#mark blurb

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Mark’s been asking you to come study at the library a few times every weekend ever since the new term started. Alone. With only him. Him only. 

The first time, you had asked him if anyone else was coming along, and he said all the other guys weren’t free- something about Jaemin and Haechan and Student Council, and Jeno with his girlfriend-  then you asked Ryujin and Minji, and they were (very unfortunately) busy too. 

So you had no choice but to go and accept an offer to sit, for a good five hours, with your best friend and your bubbling feelings for him. Of course, you probably could’ve said no, but he probably would have pestered you into coming because he knows you’re free.

To be honest, it wasn’t all that bad: it really was just studying, and it was good since you were genuinely being productive, and it’s better than being cooped up at home completely alone. 

Then he asked you the next week, and then the next week, and then it just compounded into multiple study sessions (that he kept jokingly calling study dates, which, just, ugh) that were too helpful for you to say no to. Sometimes, the others tagged along too, but not without teasingly voicing their skepticism about third-wheeling the both of you. 

And you continue to go, since hanging out with Mark is fun anyways, and your study breaks are filled with watching stupid YouTube videos and competing on Minesweeper, which he hasn’t actually won yet, and complains that your average time is too high to actually beat. He kicks at your leg from underneath the table when you use your phone for too long, and you stare at him in annoyance whenever he starts shaking his leg so violently that the entire table vibrates with him. 

Your relationship, in the sense of being associated with one another and not actually being in a relationship together, with him is conflicting, confusing, and complex, especially because everytime you think it’ll be awkward around him, the nervousness just melts away because of how comfortable you actually are with him. 

Also because you pep-talk and psyche yourself in the mirror whenever you go for bathroom breaks. Especially on the days where you sit across from him instead of beside him, and stare at his pretty hands twirling his Apple Pen, or accidentally lock eyes and he scrunches his face at you. Or when he comes all the way across the table to your side to peek at whatever you’re doing, or to whisper into your ear his help for the Math question you posed him, his face so incredibly near yours, that you almost get a shock when you turn to look at him.

(Okay, maybe you weren’t as cool as you were with him as you thought you were.) On these days you have to go just to smile all the giddiness out of your system before you meet him just to get ready and steel yourself for the rest of the day.

Nothing could ever prepare you to expect whatever just happened, though.

It started off as a normal day, and you saw his string of texts when you woke up.

[mark 😐, 0810] good morning madam

[mark 😐, 0810] we gg 2 the library 2day? i have sooo much i need to do

[mark 😐, 0811] we can get lunch then go after lol ur defo still sleeping i saw ur last seen at 2am wtf were u even up to

[you, 1027] HI yeah sure lets meet at 1230

[you, 1027] LOL i was talking to yeonjun we were shitting on our lit teacher bc the notes for this chapter are just so bad

[you, 1027] but tbh i dont get y hes so upset bc he probably doesnt even need the notes cos hes already so smart 

[you, 1027] the other day i went to discuss some essay questions with him and his points r so BIG BRAIN its kinda sexy

[mark 😐, 1028] omg lol

Then you met and got lunch as usual, and then headed to the library, and then started work, and it almost felt as if it was like clockwork. He’s sitting next to you today, and Mark keeps swearing whenever he loses on Minesweeper. You ask him how to twirl your pen the way he does, and he holds your hand through it, literally, gripping your fingers to turn the pen after multiple failed attempts that made your pen drop with a clang onto the table. This lady from across the table keeps staring daggers at the two of you and you can’t exactly blame her because of how much of a ruckus you’re causing, laughing whenever you can’t get it right.

And now he has his head on your shoulder. Yeah. What the fuck. 

You’re both trying to get the Statistics homework done today, but neither of you can get past a question about Agatha and her unnecessary calculations for how many different ways she can arrange her employees in a meeting room.

It’s six-forty and you’ve both finished the rest of the questions and have returned to this one for a good thirty minutes but to no avail, and after another failed attempt to get to the answer, Mark lets out a whispered cry, shifts his rolling chair closer to yours, and plops his head onto your shoulder.

“Oh my God, man, Agatha should just let them sit wherever they freaking want! What is wrong with her?!”

You’re too stunned to even reply or laugh- the library is freezing cold but you’re sure you’re about to combust, there’s heat rising to your face yet also a shiver running down your spine. Your heart is really going to beat out of your chest if he doesn’t pull away soon, and you’re praying he can’t hear or feel the palpitations. 

He rolls his head around your shoulder even more, and he shifts even closer to almost snuggle into your neck. Oh my God, how dare he. “Dude, your shoulder bone is so sharp. That hurt.”

“Then stop leaning on it, jeez.” You take this opportunity to shrug him off just before you really explode at the contact. 

He pouts at you with the cutest fucking face ever, and you sneer, and he complains about how he’s hungry and that you should just call it a day, and you agree, because you don’t know if you can stand anymore of his unintentional flirting in one day.

The signals Mark gives are so incredibly mixed and convoluted and sometimes you wonder if you should really just ask him. It’s hard enough swimming lost in a sea of your feelings for him, and it’s even harder when he catches you off guard with waves that almost make you drown and fall further in like, but then also drains almost all your hope of him ever reciprocating. 

[you, 1931] omg i need help

[you, 1931] oAJKASHKJHSADJKHASDKJHSADKhsdjak

[you, 1931] im gonna go crazy

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] WHY whts wrong are u okay????

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] WTF how r u already offline

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] COME BACK WHAT???? 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1932] HELLOOOOOOOO

[ryuddaaaeng, 1932] ??????

[you, 1932] SORRY i was getting onto the bus

[you, 1932] OMg mark.,.fnkljsalhalkalskjklaskljasljaksdkjldajlkads

[ryuddaaaeng, 1932] WHAT

[ryuddaaaeng, 1932] WHAT DID HE SAY THIS TIME

[you, 1933] WORSE HE LEANED INTO ME

[you, 1933] LIKE PUT HIS HEAD ON MY SHOULDER

[you, 1933] I THINK I DIED

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] WHAT WHY WERE YOU TOGETHER ITS SATURDAY

[you, 1933] NO WE GO TO THE LIBRARY LIKE EVERY WEESNK REMEMEMBER I TOLD YOU GUYS

[you, 1933] ????? YOU LITERALY CAME WITH US ONCE

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] UHHHHH OOPS OKAY BUT WHAT

[you, 1933] IDK WE WERE DOING THE STATS HOMEWORK AND THERES A REALLY HARD QN WE SPENT SUPER LONG ON AND WHEN HE GAVE UP HE JUST LIKE WHINED AND THEN LEAEND ON ME 

[you, 1933] then he was like omg ur shoulder is so sharp AND THEN LIKE PUT HIS HEAD CLOSER TO MY NECK

[you, 1933] are u guys getting the mental image idk I WILL SHOW U ON MONDAY

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] omg does he even do that with haechan

[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] NO i don’t think so

[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] omg one time i saw haechan try to hug him and he pushed him away 😭😭😭😭😭

[ryuddaaaeng, 1933] atp i think he defo likes u

[you, 1933] YEAH THIS IS THE SUSSIEST EVEVR

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1933] LOL THE other day when we were leaving school he called me and i was shocked 

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] but it was just to ask where u were and why u werent picking up

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] LIKE not even to ask where WE were it was just for u

[you, 1934] okay but its like

[you, 1934] i cant tell how legit it is cos sometimes he just… seems like hes joking about it

[you, 1934] like idk if hes just playing along with the joke sometimes 

[you, 1934] tbh i can’t even remember why the whole thing started lol it’s been more than a year since it started

[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] ok yeah idk how this has lasted this long lol

[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] but i don’t think he would keep bringing it up if he wanted us to just forget about it

[ryuddaaaeng, 1934] if he really didn’t like it he’d just let it die out??? u know

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] YEAH 

[you, 1934] idk maybe its just bc he finds it funny 😭😭😭😭

[you, 1934] i would tooootally find the running joke hilarious if i didnt actually like him lol

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1934] OK but he like does something or says something that hints at it every week

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] LIIIIKE it’s a LOT for someone that hypothetically doesn’t actually like u

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] ^^^^^

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] remember how they kept shipping him and minji bc she called him cute when we met last year

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] CAN YOU NOT//????? I ALREADY SUPPRESSED THIS MEMORT OMFG

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] IM TRYING TO PROVE A POINT 

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] ISO EMBAARRARASSSING

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] he barely paid any mind to it REMEMBER

[you, 1935] omg i completely forgot about that

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] GOOD

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] EXACTLY

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] it died off so quickly!!!! but he’s dragged this out for FOREVER

[you, 1935] okay yeah…

[you, 1935] IM SO TEMPTED TO

[you, 1935] ASK HIM OR SOOMETHING 

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] OK DO IT??

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] GO FOOR IT

[you, 1935] ugh NOOOooo adjasjkhasjkdhdksajndamnsnm,

[you, 1935] what if i asked haechan lol

[you, 1935] NO i dont wanna do that

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] LOL

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] what if WE asked haechan

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] actually….. 

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] what if…..

[ryuddaaaeng, 1935] OKAY we can ask him on monday

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1935] we’ll corner him or something idk

[you, 1936] WAIT RESALKLY

[you, 1936] LET ME THINK THIS HTROUGUH IDK

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1936] OKAY

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1936] just let us know ahehehgehee

[you, 1936] idk… he’s told me about his previous crushes and i clearly AM NOT his type

[ryuddaaaeng, 1936] WHY what even his type??? 

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1936] i said renjun isnt my type but LOOK WAHT HAPPENED

[mingeegeegeegee baby, 1936] IT DOESNT MATTER

[you, 1936] IDK he likes cool hot sporty girls

[ryuddaaaeng, 1936] WDYM U R HOT??? maybe not sporty BUT STILL HOT

the credits of the Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle are starting to roll, and you’re stuck frozen in the burrow you’ve made in the fold of the sofa, head resting on his shoulder as his arm is wrapped loosely around your side. it’s been holding you like this since the halfway point of the movie- you didn’t notice, but he let out a sigh of relief and satisfaction when he succeeded in placing it there. he stretched, arms going as high as they possibly could, before his limb wandered and found its way pulling you closer to him. cliche, he knows, but a win for him nonetheless. he had to hold back his grin when you leaned into his body.

at first, you could feel his fingers ghosting the frayed threads of your jean shorts, like his wrist was stiff and his hand was afraid to open up so his palm would make full contact with the skin of your thigh. but as the movie progressed, and he constantly broke into his cute, little, hearty giggle that somehow sent his entire body into motion, his hand started to ease, fingers drumming on your supple skin, drawing circles on it, accidentally hitting it when he laughs a bit too hard.

he gulps, and breathes, “wow, that movie was not as bad as i thought it was.”

“yeah, it was pretty good.” neither of you make an effort to move out of the position. a slight shift could mean this rare moment of comforting proximity that you waited so long for would vanish in an instant, like a bubble popping after floating around in glee. so you force your head to continue facing the screen, eyes boring into the tiny, white words that are scrolling away. 

before you know it, even the credits have finally come to a close, and your eyes are fixated on the next netflix recommendation, Jumanji: The Next Level that’s about to play in 5, 4, 3, 2, 

your head snaps up to turn, still balanced on the ball of his shoulder. when you face him, you’re staring right at him. he does that stupidly attractive thing where he turns his head towards you before his eyes land on yours, and your eyes are now locked on his. you bite your lip to ease just a little bit of your restlessness, and this movement causes his eyes to dart to your lips for just a split second. 

he gulps again.

screw it, you’re gonna have to say something.

“are you gonna kiss me?” oh my god. not that. stupid, stupid, self-sabotage.

his hand flies away from your leg, retreating back to him so he can make huge, sporadic gestures that speak for his panic and awkwardness.

“uhhh, i-” his hand is rubbing at his nose, and though it’s dark and his head is turned away from you once again, the light from the television lets you see the pink tint that begins to dust his cheeks. “i mean, if you, if you, um, want me to,”

you don’t know why you find this so cute- you literally felt just as awkward as he does a second ago, but seeing him freak out somehow fortifies you to prod at him a little more. besides, you realise that if you don’t make a move now, after at least a month and a half of going out with him, mark’s probably never going to. 

your face scrunches up into a chuckle and you don’t take your eyes off him- “well, do you want to?”

“i mean, i-i totally do want to,” his hand is on his chest, and it comes down as he points at you with his thumb, “i’m just really scared that you- don’t? i don’t know,” mark leans forward from the couch to run his fingers through his hair, and you tug at his shirt sleeve multiple times to pull him back.

“i do, mark, i really do.”

“um, okay! great. cool,” he squeaks out, and his movements to almost close the gap between your faces are so mechanic, and panic settles onto his mind and his features, “oh, but i, uh, sorry if i’m a bad kisser or anything, i don’t really get much uh, practice in this, haha.”

you have to turn your face away to hold back a giggle at this cute, shy mess of a boy, before you finally compose yourself, and let one hand gently cup the side of his jaw, and reassuring, “it’s fine. sorry if i’m no good either.”

you smile, and plant the briefest kiss on the corner of his mouth. then you let go. 

“now, how was that?” 

“t-that wasn’t even a kiss!” 

“really?” you laugh, bringing your legs up onto the couch to kneel and face him completely. this time, you hold both of his cheeks in both of your hands before closing your eyes and pressing your lips on his, for a while longer now, and you’re just about to pull away when you feel fingertips ghosting up your jaw, and feel him tilt his head so that his mouth fits perfectly in the crevices of yours. 

“what about now?”

“better.”

he shifts his body to fully face you too, and your mouths meld together just a few more times, and the feeling of his fingers gripping at you, lips chasing after yours, drowns out the background noise of kevin hart bickering with dwayne johnson. you’re melted into this moment, and you don’t want it to end.

-

another thing you never really expected from mark was- well, his fear of sudden pecks, those that catch him off-guard, those that come when he least expects them to. they don’t give him any time to react, or prepare, or take a breath so he doesn’t combust when your lips touch his skin.

you’ve made out a few times with him so far in the couple of times you’ve seen him since that very night, and so you thought that he’d appreciate the quick, little kisses, but you probably shouldn’t have assumed.

he’s getting ready to leave your apartment after another movie night, and just before he walks out the door, he hugs you goodbye, and before he can pull back, you sneak a kiss on the tiny corner of his mouth that’s turned up into a smile. or at least, you try to.

he flings himself out of your grasp, head jerking back so fast and hard that you almost tumble into him from the momentum, and both of you stare in complete shock at one another.

“oh, ummm, sorrysorrysorry, haha, awwwkwaaaard!” your hands fly to the air in surrender as if you’ve been caught red-handed, and your feet take slow, tiny steps away from him.

“that’s my bad, oh my god i’m sorry,” your words are drowned out by his, and every cell in you is cringing from embarrassment and from worry and fear that you’ve done something wrong, something you shouldn't have done, did you go too far? are you stupid for thinking that would be okay?

“sorry, i, uh, i think it’s like, muscle memory to move away because haechan and the guys, well, mostly haechan, always tries to do that kinda thing. i-it’s not you! i swear! you’re great! haechan, not so, you know what i mean? like i wanna kiss you too but in that moment my body prepared for fight or flight, you know? oh my god i’m so sorry.” he’s doing that thing with his gestures again, frantically waving his hands to ensure you visually comprehend that it’s not your fault.

this revelation comes like a knife slicing through the tension that once was, and you hide your face behind your hands in relief, giggling at the stark weirdness of it all, but you also can’t shake off the tinge of sadness from the rejection. it wasn’t directed towards you, you know, but you just can’t help but feel a little taken aback by what happened. 

he grabs your wrists, pulling you towards him, and encouraging you to try again.

“okay, go on. i’m ready now. sorry. just not used to this.” his cheeks are a deep shade of red, and his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

you’re smiling throughout the entire, brief, kiss goodbye.

nearly six months have passed, and you try to give him a peck every now and then, just to see if he still retracts in fear, and you can see him tense up every time you try. 

so you stop. 

the last time you’d tried was right before he left for tour, and in your endless contemplation of your relationship (you had way too much time on your hands not to fall down the rabbit hole of thinking), you come to the conclusion that maybe it’s just something you don’t have to do to mark. with mark, for mark. besides, there are other ways to express your love for him anyways- he doesn’t cringe when you run your fingers through his hair, or when you wrap your arms around him in a bear hug from behind. probably because he doesn’t mind when his friends do it too. and it’s not like you can’t kiss him entirely, you just have to make sure he’s fully aware of the sparks that are about to fly when your lips touch, instead of the little zaps of static that come when he least expects them to, the ones that he shies away from.

-

it’s been a week since he’s returned. a week since your suffering has finally come to an end, a week since the longing that filled your entire being to the brim finally drained out when your body collided into his when you embraced after what felt like an eternity. it took everything in you not to jump at him when you saw him at your door, so instead of fighting against your growing excitement, you run straight into his arms, hopping as his hands link together to prop you up. 

it’s hard not to tear up- the sight of mark in the flesh is overwhelming and sensational and you’re burying your face into his neck, hands playing with the hair at his nape. what used to be short, clipped ends that pricked at your fingers have now grown into something like a mullet- you remember when you saw photos of him online the other day and started crying because it was a reminder of just how much time was passing without him around. you’re crying, now, too, and mark starts to giggle you can hear just how tired he is from the grogginess of his voice- “aw, babe, are you crying?” 

“no.” he tries to nudge at you so you can pull your head back, but you stick to him like a koala wrapped around a tree until he lets go of your legs and tries to tickle you.

“awwwww, nooo! you’re making me want to cry too!” he whines, and you wipe your tears away on the sleeve of your sweater before finally looking up at his face through your glossy eyes. his face has changed, too. his eyebags are puffy, his cheeks are sunken in the slightest bit, and his jawline is more prominent than you remember it to be. his face feels just a little smaller in your hands when you hold him, and you’re staring, wondering if it’s been so long that you’ve simply forgotten the tactile sense of touching him, feeling him.

before this can spur any more tears from escaping, you’re sent into overdrive, since he crashes his lips into yours. the initial shock flickers out and you take in the jolts of electricity coming at you, the storm of repressed zeal and yearning unleashing between the two of you. it’s been so long and yet you can still remember how mark kisses- when he turns his head to nip at more of you, his arms link around your shoulders, and then the next time one hand cups your face, his thumb trailing up and down your jaw, and eventually his mouth strays away from yours, and he plants kisses all over your face, trailing down to your neck, and then… he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you for you to know.

you’ve seen him almost everyday since he’s come back- he likes to come over just to catch up on sleep in your room as you study. just so you can spend a little more time in your day with one another. there have been more cuddles, more back massages (you even gave him one this time), more sitting in his lap, and he even tries to pick up the skill of braiding your hair. so far, you’ve stuck to your resolution of not stealing pecks out of the blue- so the only thing there isn’t more of is kisses. it’s good, you think- you let him initiate and then you return, so you’re sure you don’t have to take him by surprise.

tonight, you’re in the middle of submitting an assignment, when you hear your phone ping from across the room. then it pings, again and again, in succession, and you’re about to go over and read the messages before it blows up into a full phone-call, the marimba ringtone blaring through the speakers. 

it’s johnny, and in the split second before you answer the phone, you can only assume the worst has happened- you know mark’s with him, they had a company dinner to celebrate the end of their tour- what, did he get into an accident? did he pass out? did he-

“hello? y/n?” there’s a sense of urgency in his voice, and the curiosity is really starting to eat you alive.

“hey, john, what’s up? is everything okay?” you hear a groan in the background, and it turns into a long, howl-like wail that subsides into sob.

“yeah, uh, not really. you heard that? that’s uh, it’s mark. i think he’s had too much to drink, and it’s not like he’s never gotten drunk before, he’s definitely had more before, but i’ve never seen him this, uh-”

“is that y/n?!” you can hear mark hiccup, “y/n! baaaaaaby babe y/n!” he’s still crying, and you’re so worried. mark hasn’t really expressed much sadness ever since he returned, and most of the time he’s very frank with his emotions- so if he was ever sad about anything, you’d think you would’ve heard about it by now.

you can hear someone else shushing him, and johnny continues- “i think he really wants to see you right now, so can we just drop him off at yours? you can just text me your address, i don’t think he’s in a state of mind to give directions right now.” the sobbing is still ongoing, albeit a tiny bit more muted than it was before.

“um, yeah. of course. i’ll send it to you. is.. is he alright? what happened?” 

“well, i’m not very sure, actually. he was fine at the start, and then started to get all giggly like he normally does when he’s had a few glasses, and then he had a tiny bit more, and got all sappy. and now we’re uh, we’re here. he does keep mentioning that he misses you, though. which i don’t get- since i’m pretty sure he spent the entire week with you, so….”

“right….okay. thanks johnny. has he like, thrown up or anything?”

“uhh, nope. don’t think so. hopefully he doesn’t. or hopefully he does. he’ll probably feel better after.” 

“yeah. you can call me when you get here, i’ll buzz you in. see you!” 

you hang up, and are left alone only with the many questions you have, and wow, you’ve never felt more nervous in your entire life. not when you did that interview for a scholarship, or when you had your finals, or when you drove for the first time. this imminent fear is much more terrifying- especially because you were under the presumption that you knew exactly what was happening. in everything else you feared the unknown, the uncertainty of it all, but this, you feel like you were supposed to know- you thought there was nothing between you and mark, thought he was just as transparent as you had been with him.

this week had been complete bliss for you, having him in close proximity again. you’re treasuring every moment with him much more now, holding everything right to your heart, actively storing every scene of him in your hippocampus for later viewing. what could’ve gone wrong? was that not enough? what’s changed? you can only wander around your apartment as your mind runs wild. is he stressed? is this some cathartic release? does he suddenly hate what he’s doing? 

the wait is painfully long- almost making the four months without mark cease to nothing, and you try everything not to think about him. you submit the assignment, you try to beat your record on minesweeper, you watch a couple of youtube videos but lose interest, and text a close friend for emotional support. before the soul-crushing impatience can actually kill you, you hear the ringing on your intercom, and you’ve never pressed the accept button so fast. 

you don’t even wait for them to ring your doorbell. that would just cause more delay. you open the door right away, and peek outside, and the lift doors burst open and mark’s whines reverberates along the tight corridor. johnny’s carrying him piggyback, and the sight of him like this makes you so, incredibly sad- it pulls at your heartstrings and you feel suffocated by the tightening hold that it has on you. if he wasn’t so upset, maybe you would’ve laughed at how cute and snug he looks stuck onto johnny’s back.

mark’s face morphs into a giddy smile when he sees you, letting out a garbled call for you, and you greet johnny as he slips his shoes off to carry him into the living room and plop him onto the couch. you begin to untie his shoe-laces so you can get his shoes off, and you sigh, “thanks so much for your help johnny. do you need anything? need a glass of water… or?” 

“no, i’m good. taeil’s waiting downstairs, anyway.” 

you walk him to the door with mark’s shoes, placing them right at the entrance. “right. well, um, thanks again! hope you guys get back safe. i’ll see you around.” 

“yup, see you. hope he’ll be okay.”

the door is shut, and you can finally focus all your attention on the boy that’s caused you so much concern in the past thirty minutes. you sit right by his head on the couch, and when you try to get rid of the denim jacket he’s wearing, he stirs.

“baaabe?”

“hey, markie. what’s got you all upset?” you kneel on the floor so you can slip the jacket right off of him, and his swollen, tear-filled eyes are following you as you move. when you get close enough, you’re taken aback because he smooches you, missing your lips completely, and the sweet, gentle kiss lands on your chin. 

it’s the first time he’s ever done that- first time he’s ever gone in for a kiss without you looking- and you have to sit and blink to try and figure out if you’re imagining things.

his hand reaches out for you, lips still puckered as he tries again and again to kiss you anywhere on your face, and as intriguing as it is, it’s more concerning since it’s mark. your mark- the one that didn’t really seem to like it when you did this, the one who pretty much repelled away from any of the sudden pecks you gave him. 

you sweep his hair to the side, and before you can even try asking again, his hand falls limp, and he drawls, “you don’t wanna ki-kiss me anymore.” tears are starting to well in his eyes again, and you have to force yourself not to give up on how confusing this entire situation is.

“what? babe, who told you that?” you’re chuckling, but trying not to, because he’s literally about to cry ohmygodwhat. 

“yoooooou,” he whines, “you haven’t kissed me since i, i got back!”

you brush a tiny droplet from his eye with the pad of your thumb, and then go back to stroking his hair. you try not to show your incredulity, but it’s a little hard when you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. “but i have! we even kissed yesterday, mark! remember?” 

“yeaaah we kissed! but i kissed you.” he’s so funny- even as his eyes are closed and he faces the ceiling, he still has to point at himself and then at you when he says this, and then he pauses and continues, “you haven’t tried to kiss me since i left. like, reeeaaally tried. and i can’t figure out whhhhhy.” 

oh. what? 

“well, markie, right now i don’t really wanna kiss you since you’re kinda stinky,” you try to joke, but his eyes shut even tighter and he’s about to burst into tears again, “noooooo! i’ll go brush my teeth-”

“but didn’t you say you’re not used to it? i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. you didn’t seem to like it very much.”

“but i diiiiiid! i missed you so much when i was away,” a hiccup. “and then i felt so sad,” another hiccup. “because i remembered how sad you got the first time,” and another hiccup. “and then when i got back i was soooo excited for you to do it, so i could do it back to you, and you never did.” his mouth turns into a pout, and his nose sniffles.

this is what he was upset about? no way. there is no way he got so sad because you decided not to kiss him out of the blue anymore. it makes your heart swell in confusion- because, what the hell, mark is just, for the lack of a better word, so darn cute. you can’t believe that this, out of everything you could’ve had a miscommunication about, is what he was hiding from you. 

“awwww, i’m sorry babe. i really thought you didn’t want me to.” you coo, and lean in closer to press your lips to his forehead. “look! i’ll give you sooo many right now!” you kiss him all over his face, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile, and he starts to giggle, complaining that it tickles. 

“but why didn’t you tell me? i would’ve done it if you’d asked.” you begin to trace your finger all over his features, stopping at his nose to boop at it. 

he heaves out a sigh, and you can tell he is a mere minute away from dozing off to sleep with how slowly he speaks, “i dunno, it just seemed silly to tell you. but this, it’s probably even sillier.” 

you pinch at his nose. “yeah, i’m glad you know, mark.” 

you know you once said that a small peck on the lips didn’t mean much to you, but right now, it’s your favourite way of showing him you care. just the thought of both of you unknowingly reciprocating the exact same yearning for each other is so amusing, and it gives you butterflies to know just how similar you are to one another. it’s more than simple skin on skin- it’s when two lines, so parallel and alike, tend towards one another and meet in an oblique. and though these lines have to part afterwards, they curve, bend, and loop to find their way back. you’ve never believed in infinity- it’s stupid to think that anyone or anything is completely limitless- but in this moment you can only wish for your lines to join and travel endlessly.

when you return with a face towel to wipe his dried tears and snot away, you give him your sweetest, last kiss goodnight.

-

at first, you thought it was just a one-off event. it happens sometimes to people, you know.

“hey, babe?” you question, as you sit yourself back onto the couch, feet propping over his on the ottoman.

“yeah?” he’s completely unaware, so it reaffirms the fact that it was possibly a lone incident.

your hands fiddle with his, before you push an accusing finger into his cheek, and reveal, “i think you forgot to switch off the bathroom lights.”

“oh!” as if a bulb went off in his own head, giving you a cheeky smile. “my bad, my bad, i’m sorry. i’ll try to remember next time.”

of course, there is indeed a next time. you start to learn about this particularly frequent blunder as he spends more time staying with you. each week, without fail, he forgets to switch off the lights in either the kitchen or the bathroom after leaving. and each time you realise, you call out to him, voice reverberating in your small apartment.

“maaaark!” you’re storming into the room he’s in. “you left the lights on again!” you loom over his seated figure by the desk, his eyes glued to his laptop screen.

his head whips to you from his laptop, and he can’t help but fawn at the cute scowl on your face. don’t get him wrong, he’s definitely apologetic, but it doesn’t make him want to kiss the cute frown off your forehead any less.

your fingers wind up into a flick to his temple before his hand catches yours, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, and pressing a kiss into it. he’s still seated, and he pulls you into an embrace- his head buried into your shirt as he mumbles his apologies once more. eventually, you end up on his lap, and his soft touches and his giggles into your skin melt away any hints of annoyance.

it can get bothersome, but it’s a quirk of his that he does try to fix. (he does somehow forget to switch the light off before leaving the house a couple of times. you were appalled when you returned home.) at the end of the day, no one’s hurt by it- except for your electricity bill that suffers a dollar or so. besides, it’s something that mark likes to bring up when you accuse him of perfection, and it also teaches you more about him: your assumption that mark likes to maintain his belongings for economic reasons is proven wrong.

he doesn’t particularly keep his things to save money- he could easily find another black jansport bag or another phone or wallet to replace the ones he owns that are wearing out, and not have a dent made in his bank account. he keeps a minimal number of shirts in his closet, keeps the shoes that jaemin gave him years ago even if his feet have far outgrown them- all because he wants to savour every last bit that he can get from something before it’s gone.

in hindsight, you should’ve noticed this earlier, and maybe should’ve learnt from him too. because, if you had, then you would’ve noticed how, in the upcoming weeks to his four month long tour, he held you a bit closer every time you embraced. how he held you longer, tighter, nearer to him. only then would you have noticed the more frequent tugs on your weenus (“it’s the name of the skin on your elbow, babe! you’re such a perv!”), and how much more willing he was to dig his knuckles into your back.

but alas, such realisations come too late- and before you even know it, what was once in your grasp is something you can merely yearn and reach for.

nights without mark inevitably tend to get difficult - the heart can only go so long without beating for someone, and while you know he thinks of you from thousands of miles away, your heart swells and stops in shock when you reach out for him and he isn’t there. the act of missing starts from a feeling of longing and grows and manifests into a physical craving that seeps into parts of your life.

it comes in waves: sometimes, as low tides that push and cross the sandy beaches of your mind but eventually ebb, retreating back into the sea. other times, they catch you off guard, like a quiet tsunami that stirs the best, most heart-wrenching memories of him, then crashes into you unsuspectingly.

it’s been a month since mark’s left for his tour, and the facetimes, pictures and videos that he sends every other day are good enough to keep you happy and updated. the seas are calm, gales auspicious, as you navigate through each day without him.

come friday night, and you haven’t heard from mark in a while, but it’s okay. the last you’d heard from him was about a day or two ago, where he’d just landed in spain. he hasn’t watched the tiktoks you’ve sent him, and neither has he read your messages. but these thoughts are pushed to the back of your mind as you continue to watch the episode of friends on the television.

you decide to get up from the couch to use the bathroom, but when you near the door, your hand reaches for the lightswitch to find that it’s already switched on.

it never even occurred to you that you were drowning.

your breath hitches, because you stop yourself from calling out for someone that isn’t here, stop yourself from acting on instinct. it’s such a simple, silly mistake, forgetting to switch the light off, but it’s a mistake you associated with him fully, something you’ve attached to the memory of him, so much so that the anticipation of him that comes with it crushes you with false hope. it almost feels as if your body had been fighting for air, flailing around helplessly before its final attempt at a gasp finally sends a signal to your mind to breathe.

and breath, you try. but your head is hazy with thoughts of him that are bombarding your senses. you inhale and find yourself trying to get a whiff of mark: the laundry detergent he uses (which you use too, but his clothes smell different). you close your eyes but he’s all you’re still looking for, even though he’s gone, and such trains of thought are dangerous because they lead you to think about his touch.

oh god, no, not his touch.

the way he tugs at your sleeve and then the skin of your elbows, the way he runs his fingers through your hair, the cupping of your cheek, the grazing of your neck, the hand on your hip, his lips on your shoulder, jaw, his lips on your lips.

it feels stupid, but you can’t help but miss mark. it’s totally not stupid to miss someone- nostalgia is a completely universal experience- but it’s stupid because all you can do is blink the tears that flood your eyes and text him to say ‘i miss you,’ when you know he’s going to come back.

ridiculous or not, the ache in your heart, body, mind and soul, doesn’t seem to subside or water down, and so you do what you can, wallowing, wishing and waiting for the day he can fill your arms once again.

- 

next (kisses)

a/n: lol hope you liked it.... as i’m proofreading this one more time before i post i’m starting to feel like it’s super cringe but okay i’m just going to post this before i tear this apart and have to start over haahha. 

you’re getting ready for bed now and you stand side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. your faces are bubbled, hands rubbing over the skin with cleanser- and the way mark looks with his cute my melody headband pushing his fringe out of the way almost sends you into laughter.

what does send you into a giggle is the way mark attacks his face, spreading the soap with the palms of his hands all over his cheeks, his forehead and chin in a fervent up and down motion. it’s a clear contrast to your careful ways with your exfoliating brush, ensuring you get every inch of your skin. when he’s done he splashes water at his face just as roughly, hands skimming the temples and neck to get rid of any soap. 

and then he raises his head from the sink and you see the cute frown on his face, water dripping everywhere all over your rug, and he runs his fingers over his eyes to wipe the water off of them. 

when he pats his face dry and starts slathering his face with creams and moisturisers in the same slapdash manner, you begin to chuckle again.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing, it’s just that you’re so… rough when you wash your face. the soap is on there for like, 2 seconds max.” 

“really? everyone washes their face like this at home. maybe except for doyoung hyung. he has that brush thingy that you’re using.”

“you should try it! it feels really good on the skin, especially when it digs into the sides of your nose. i think it makes the facewash cleanse better. has to do something with the pores.”

mark doesn’t really like taking it slow with his skincare routine. it would just be a waste of time- there are already 4 things he needs to apply onto his skin, and he has to wait a while in between them, and before all of this he needs to shave, too…..it’s just too much effort, really.

you do try to get him to believe otherwise, saying that it’s really good for his skin, yada yada, promoting that it’s super important to take proper care of the most delicate organ on your body. he notices that you have at least twice the amount of skincare products as he does, and that, without fail, you truly dedicate at least thirty minutes a day to washing your face. it’s incredible, and he doesn’t understand how you have the patience for it. 

he now does try to massage the products into his face every once in a while. but only when you’re around. it still takes way too much time. 

one night, you come home from an intense day at school- he heard you talk about it- you had just spent the last night cramming for your exam this morning, and then you still had yet another study group session over lunch, and then you had unbelievably long conference to attend, and now you’re back home, ready to crash onto your bed.

but that doesn’t happen. you lay down on the couch as you promise yourself that you just want a few minutes to rest, and fall into a heavy slumber. 

mark arrives at your place with the promise to finally watch that movie on netflix you’d been eyeing, and he enters to see you fast asleep in your outside clothes, one leg hanging off the couch, airpods still in ears. 

“babe?” he calls out, walking over in confusion as he probes at you, poking into your sides, shaking you awake, but you’re knocked out cold. this never happens. he knows you care too much about your skin and about hygiene to fall asleep haphazardly like this. 

“she can’t be….” mark panics for just a second before he places a hand on you to confirm that you’re alive and breathing. phew. he stands around in aimlessly wondering what to do, until he decides to take you into his arms princess-style and haul you over to your bed, gently landing you on the soft surface.

he removes your airpods, and heads into the bathroom to wet one of your face towels and bring out your little basket of face products. 

mark brushes the hair out of your face, and begins to wipe at your skin with the towel, and applies some of the cleanser he always sees you use.

honestly, he’s not sure how he knows the exact order and steps of your skincare routine, but his hands constantly gravitate towards the next product once he’s done with the previous step. and he is so, incredibly gentle, using only his index and middle fingers to spread the creams onto your delicate face, moving slowly so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you, or wake you. 

he uses the little brush you use to exfoliate, walking back to the bathroom multiple times to wash the towel that cleanses your skin after each soap he uses, and takes note of the oils and creams you complain are expensive and uses those very sparingly. 

and when he’s done, mark kisses you goodnight at the top of your forehead. there isn’t a grain of annoyance that you couldn’t watch that movie, or that he just spent half an hour cleaning your face, only the genuine wish that you sleep tight with sweet dreams.

and then when you wake in the middle of the night, groggy, you wonder where you are and why your face doesn’t feel like it’s heavy with the layers of face oil and dirt that’s accumulated from the day. your hands fly to your face, grieving the routine you missed, only to realise your skin feels smooth and soft. you sit up, panicking at the thought of “oh, shit, mark!” and you fly to the living room to search for your phone, only to see his long limbs sprawled on your couch. 

as you stare at his peaceful figure you can only wonder how you're so lucky to have come across someone so undeniably thoughtful. it makes your heart swell, makes you want to pack every ounce of love you have in your blood into a box just for him. and still, that probably wouldn't feel like it would be enough to express your ineffable gratitude for every inch of his being.

one day, as you stand in the kitchen waiting for your food in the microwave, he creeps up behind you, poking you right smack in the centre of your spine. 

“you should try improving your posture.” he says, as a matter of fact, “it’ll probably help your back pain.”

you arch your back like a cat, wincing from the discomfort. 

it’s sweet that he notices, and even sweeter that he consistently tries to look out if you’re standing or sitting up straight. sometimes he pokes you in the side when he’s sitting next to you in the library- which might’ve caused you to yelp a few times. you glare at him, but it does the job in making you flinch and aligning your spine as he points out your hunched back.

once, he even lightly taps the pads of his fingers down your spine, sending you shivers down that very bone. he drums on your back playfully before casually landing his hand around your waist as you stand side by side, waiting at the bus stop.

when you queue in line to buy food he puts his hands on your shoulders to bring them backwards and literally fixes your posture himself- letting out a brief, muttered reminder to “stand up straight, babe.” you can hear the small pout and whine in his voice even though he sounds so nonchalant. 

he gives you multiple massages even if he isn’t particularly good at them, but he’s improving and tries to remember the perpetual, specific points on your back that are culprits to your pain, rubbing, kneading with tender care into the knots. 

“woah,” he chuckles, “this one feels so stiff i can feel your pain.” his fingers are going deep into your skin, one hand holding your bare left waist in place while the other pokes its knuckles into the crevices of your back. 

mark also likes to survey for your customer experience- “does it feel better? rate my performance on a scale of one to ten, y/n. i feel like i was more helpful than i was the last time.”

“not bad, mark! i give you a seven this time. where’d you learn that thing where you pressed down with your elbow? it felt really good.”

“i watched a youtube video on it. you know, when i was looking, i stumbled across this back massage asmr channel. it’s really weeeird. but it’s kinda cool at the same time.” 

his antics hit a soft spot that melts you into a puddle of joy and a constant state of gratitude that he wants to do so much, wants to relieve the persistent tension in your spine even though he carries a massive weight atop of his own shoulders.

you feel that the distance between you two is the smallest it’s ever been in these moments- you feel him most intimately when he grabs your shoulders to pull them back and his fingers graze your neck after it taps your chin gently and slip away. moments like that. they feel better than even the static shock when your pinkies link, an electric force that binds your hands together. 

maybe it’s because there’s a clear intent to look out for you. in comparison to mere fingers pining to and reaching out to intertwine, it shows a deliberate effort to care. maybe mark wants you to stop whining about your pain. maybe mark just wants you to stop hurting. maybe mark wants for you not to damage your backbone so your health isn’t affected when you grow old together. maybe that’s a reach. 

but what you know is that it’s more touching to have someone care this way- maybe more touching than a meaningless peck on the lips or a hug that could last forever. 

next (facewash)