𝜗𝜚˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆ in which aliya levine begins her third year of surgical residency with a particular green eyed rich boy, overbearing parents taunting her all the way from malibu, an ex who refuses to leave her alone, a chaotic best friend and a pair of t...
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chapter six━new history season six, episode nine
❝ i'm sure that's going to work out so well for you. ❞
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MARK'S APARTMENT seattle, washington ( several months ago ) ⠀
The alarm clock buzzed its annoyingly tedious wake up call from the bedside table, surrounded by empty candy wrappers and one of her gold earrings which were missing its back.
They had completely forgot to draw the curtains before they drifted off to sleep, which only meant that the early morning spring light shone through the windows blindingly.
Aliya came to love mornings like this. The brief few moments where her brain hadn't realised she had woken up, and she wasn't exactly aware what day, month or even year it was. Those first stolen moments where the world is still, and the dream that she had just left was still laced between her fingertips.
Then, consciousness slammed into every bone in her body like an electric shock, especially seeing as the alarm was still blaring from beside her.
She groaned into his chest where her head was still rested upon, one hand slumped across his stomach from where they had fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs.
Mark yawned awake, his hand remaining around Aliya's shoulders as he used his other free hand to slam a button on the top of the alarm clock.
"Shut up." He mumbled to it, returning his head back to the cushions with a defeated sigh, not wanting to be awake just yet. "We could just stay in bed all day." He proposed the idea to the brunette, whispering the words into her forehead where his lips brushed against.
"Sounds like a great plan." Aliya replied softly, nestling closer into him as if declaring the fact that she never wanted to leave here. "It's not like we have surgeries or anything." Her voice was muffled as she whispered into his skin, warming his chest with her breath.
"I'm glad you agree." He smirked the way he always did, pressing a kiss to her forehead that made every fabric of her being melt in his hands.
She laughed easily, as if she felt as light as a feather, however she had come to realise that when she felt like this, it was always too good to be true. "Do you remember that lecturer at Columbia? Dr. Asher Armstrong?"
"Ash-hole—" Mark reminisced with a wild and enthusiastic tone of voice, his hand tracing circles on her back that sent chills down her spine. "How could I ever forget?"
