The Foster Kid (Part 3) (A Foster The People Fan Fiction)

I Need Youf

I heard footsteps echoed on the corners. It was barely audible and was pacing slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. I tried to stop myself, but the tears kept rolling down, damping my cheeks. I bit my lip and held my breath, trying to keep any noise from coming out. I prayed that whoever it was, would not notice me. The footsteps then disappeared and everything was silent again. Just when I thought the person was gone, I felt warm, long, and slow breaths tingling my fingers. I did not dare to lift my head up; I did not want to see its face. I got to see a glimpse of his shoes, though. They looked awfully familiar, but I could not guess who’s exactly. I felt it shifting, slightly brushing past my arm and positioned itself next to me. I restrained myself from seeing this guy; I did not want to be seen like this. I felt my arm being slowly lifted away from my head, causing me to startle a little; the scent of the guy is really familiar. It was a mixture of cigarettes and cologne, it was Mark. I finally lifted my head up to find out that I was correct, it really was Mark. He blankly stared at my red puffy eyes, he never see me like this. He looked worried and confused at the same time, his gripping hand still lingering on my arm. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice filled with tenderness,

“I-” I froze, my throat was blocked and more tears threatened to come out,

“Maybe later…” The corner of his lips curled into a gentle smile. I dropped my head on my knees again, rubbing my eyes with my thumb. I cried again, I just could not stop. I think Mark startled at this. “Hey, hey… It’s okay…” He softly said, rubbing my back soothingly.

“No it’s not…” I softly murmured, afraid that I will burst out crying again. I did not know why, but I stood up and started to trot towards the exit.

“No, wait!” Mark exclaimed,

“I’m sorry, I just need some time.”

“Please… Tell me what’s wrong…” He said, almost a dramatic whisper. I stopped, but I did not turn back, I just stop and stared at whatever was in front of me. Mark grabbed my shoulders and turned me so I could face him. He gazed at me with his warm blue eyes; I could see the worry and the affection in his eyes. His full lips curved into a tight smile, running his thumbs along my wet cheeks. I pouted, as my lips started to quiver and tears flooded my eyes. I dropped my head onto his chest while he wraps his arms around me, why can’t I stop crying? “The guys are looking for you…”

“Now?” I sighed, still on his chest.

“No, in a thousand years.” He sarcastically replied, “Maybe we’ll talk about it, the six of us. Just like old times…” He rested his chin on my head,

“No.” I shook my head, “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying, don’t lie to me.” He rebuked, “Why were you crying?” I was about to answer, but then I choked on my own tears. I could tell that Mark was confused. Mark absentmindedly started to sway a little; he understood that I needed some time to cool off.

“I need someone…” I blurted, and it was true. I needed someone that time, someone to just be there for me. My knees were wobbly under the pressure I was in, making me lean on Mark more. Behind all this sobbing, I heard Mark muttered something under his breath.

“Shit.” I felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath and shrunk as he exhaled, “I’m here for you, kiddo. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” I was in a vulnerable state, I was lost and confused, and I do not know what to do. You might think that I was being dramatic, but you did not have to go through what I have been through. “Okay, come on now.” Mark mumbled, but he stood frozen for a moment.  He then caught me off guard and picked me up like how Andy carried me whenever I scraped my knee or could not walk. Why does everything remind me of Andy? I cried more, in thinking about how Andy would sometimes resent the fact that mom said that she was sorry. He has always told me that mom was, and still is, the best mom in the world. How did he turn from good guy Andy to an ass? That breaks me, it has always did. Is he bipolar, or is he just weird? What is on his mind? What is the trigger to this behavior of his? I am worried about him, I really am. Those thoughts made me cry, I gripped on Mark’s shirt and making it wrinkle while I cried like a baby.