Angel or Devil (Yeonjun x Mark FF)

six

WARNING- This chapter is extremely cliché and cheesy and embarrassing so if you don't like that please skip

song-good boy gone bad by txt

Mark ended the call as he sighed and leaned back on the rusty park bench, ignoring an old lady that was glaring at him as her posh poodle sniffed for worms. He had had one of the worst nights of his life: eating his dinner at a dingy takeaway outside Gangnam, hiding under the table whenever anyone with a long coat came in; getting shouted at and hit with an umbrella by an angry mother for standing too close to her little son at the crosswalk; and going door to door at the hostels, asking for a spare room, only to be told no. Eventually he had crawled under a hedge and into this conservatory park, catching a very uncomfortable hours sleeping on a park bench. 

He had then woken up early, and called all the nearby housing agencies for free apartments. At last, the landlady at Kwangya Court had accepted his pleas. Now that he had some time to think, he began to think about what a stupid thing he had done. He had actually run away from his home, and lived like a tramp. He had rebelled against his father's orders and strayed from the rules of the Angel Mafia. He was absolutely horrified at himself, but not because he had been disobedient. He was horrified because he had not planned this out properly. What if Father's men were out on the lookout for him? How heavy would the punishment be? 

"Hey."

Mark looked up to see the angry face of the parkkeeper, cap pulled low over his eyes, jaws rotating with laffy taffy.  "We don't allow homeless people here", the parkkeeper snarled. Mark stood up and grabbed his suitcase, indignance taking him over. "I'm not homeless!" he replied. The parkkeeper laughed unkindly. "Of course I can believe that nonsense! Get out of here before I bring the police into this." Mark tried to walk, but he almost threw up when a sharp pain in his ankle jolted up his leg and into his spine. The parkkeeper was not convinced by Mark's limp, and shoved him roughly in his back. "GET MOVING, PUNK!" he screamed. The old lady with the poodle cheered excitedly as Mark dragged his suitcase to the entrance. 

It just gets better and better, he thought bitterly.

With his phone on Google Maps, he spent another dreadful hour looking for Kwangya Court. All around him as he limped through the streets, people stared and pointed, and one man even jeered. Mark was filled with humiliation. All his life, he has been admired and feared by the commoners, and now to have the commoners looking down on him was the worst destiny he could imagine. At last, he found Kwangya Court. The apartment was surrounded by flowery cherry blossom trees and stood clean and white amongst the small houses. Mark used the small steel elevator to get all the way to number 53, and he felt scared by the way that the lift was so different to the huge sparkly ones he would use with his family.

A lady was standing in the hall with a magenta office suit and matching lipstick. When she saw Mark, she shuddered. "Um, sir, this is not a place for homeless people-" "I'm Mark Lee," Mark cut through her sentence. "Do you know where the landlady is?" The lady plastered on a false smile. A bit of lipstick was showing on her teeth. "I'm the landlady," she half snarled. "So... you are Mark Lee..?" Mark nodded. "I'm sorry about my joggers. I have been in a bit of bother, you see. Um-here's the deposit for the flat." He pulled out an envelope and handed it to the landlady, who opened it and counted the notes, glaring at him as she did so. Then she stopped. "Erm- you've put in one too many notes-"

"As a thank you for arranging this so quickly," replied Mark with a bow. "Please don't worry about it." The landlady smiled genuinely now, showing more lipstick on her veneers. "Not at all, Mr. Lee," she simpered. "I will take you to the apartment now." She walked up the foyer with Mark in silence. The door was  plain white, with slight chipping in the paint near the handle. For some reason, this slight imperfection made Mark feel safe. The lady handed Mark a brown paper pouch, containing the keys for the house. "I di hope you'll enjoy your time here," she smiled. Mark nodded politely in response and turned the key in the lock. He had never done such an action before-only the family butler had access to the keys- and he felt a rush of euphoria as he did so.

This small moment of happiness died immediately the moment the door was fully opened. Mark and the landlady stood there in horror as they saw a long haired boy dressed in only a towel staring back at them, with the television on full blast playing XXXTentacion. "Who the HELL is THAT?" the boy shouted. The landlady snapped back, "This is the new roommate I told you about, remember, Choi?" The boy gave Mark a thunderous look and turned the television off with the remote, before disappearing into the landing and slamming a door. 

The landlady suddenly seemed to be in a hurry to leave. "I'm so sorry," she said. "We can't control the behaviour of the residents, but, um, please make yourself comfortable." With that, she was gone. Mark closed the door with a heavy feeling of loss and resignation, before looking around the small apartment. It was perfect, with a cute little kitchen and a cosy living room space. The bathroom was a bit of a mess, though, with soapsuds all over the bath and the floor, flannels scattered everywhere. He opened the bedroom door , and there was the long haired boy, fully clothed now, sat on the bed nearest to the window with clothes and an open suitcase heaped near him. The minute he saw Mark, he turned his back bluntly. 

Mark sat heavily on the bed, back facing the boy, as he thought about everything that had happened. He almost felt like he wanted his mother, but of course she would never have helped him. She would have pushed him away, just as she had done to him since he was very little. His father certainly would be of no comfort, nor his brothers, who seemed to only exist to steal from people and give birth to little horrors. That nasty roommate who was behind him would be of no help either, with his obnoxious pretty face and loud music. Mark thought about it. Did this mean that commoners lived with people who were not in their family? Had his family really dared to steal from people as poor as this? He stifled a sudden sob that attempted to rise in his throat.

Trying to distract himself, he sniffed his hoodie. It smelt absolutely awful. No wonder the landlady and parkkeeper were giving him the shady eye. He stood up, and decided he would have a bath in the soap sudded bathroom. Maybe that would help to put his mind off things-

"Don't move." Mark turned around to see the boy holding up a pistol aimed straight at him, a horrible grin on his face. "Don't move, Mark Lee Dojaejung." "How'd you know that-" stuttered Mark, but the boy cut him off. "Don't think I didn't know who you were the minute you came in here. Don't think that your disguise has fooled me. I know who you are and I know why you're here. I'm not scared to use this pistol on you." Mark took a deep breath as bile rose in his throat. "A pistol is loud, sir. You could get us both in serious trouble." The boy laughed a horrible cold laugh. "How clever. I'm not on your side, little fellow. I don't care if I get found. All I want to do is to obliterate you this minute." He raised the pistol higher. 

Mark realised he'd have to use different tactics. In one sprint he ran around and delivered a swift blow to the boy's stomach, knocking him to the ground and the pistol out of his hand. Mark grabbed the pistol and tucked it into his pocket, pulling a small knife out of the lining of his sleeve. The boy's eyes widened when he saw the blade. "Yo bro," he laughed nervously. "Let's not go there!" Mark held the blade to his new enemy's throat. (AN: I'm cringing so hard as I write this.)  "I don't even know who you are," he said. "I believe you have been sent by my father to find me after I ran away from the manor yesterday. Well, I'm not letting you do that. I am my own person now. I don't want to live in a corrupt society where I live off of other people's wealth. And I will not allow you to ruin my plans." Just as he was about to do the unthinkable, he felt an awful sensation come over him. He swayed dangerously, and the lights flickered in front of his eyes.