A Love Like Ours || m.f.

2

"(y/n)..."

I slowly set the bowl of mashed potatoes down and wiped nervously at my jeans. The rest of my family was silent- for once in their lives. I stood up quietly and Mark began to follow. I shook my head and motioned for him to sit back down. He sat back down in his chair with a questionable look on his face. I waved him off and walked over to him. He was nothing like I remembered him as, but for some reason I could still recognize him.

"Keep eating guys. Er- I'll be right back." I said awkwardly.

I peeked at my mother who was glaring at the back of my fathers neck like there was something she was missing. She huffed and strutted away after we passed her. We made our way out to the porch to sit.

"What do you think you're doing!?"

"You know you'd think after all these years she would've cooled down, but nope." he laughed and pointed his thumb towards the house, obviously talking about my mother.

"You didn't answer my question." I pointed out.

"I came to visit you."

"Ok?? No phone call about it? No "hey I'm at the airport and I'm coming to visit"??" I asked

"Yeah well I felt like your mom would disagree with the fact I was coming, and I didn't know where you were at in California, but I know you wouldn't miss Thanksgiving back home."

He considered Nebraska home?

"My mom still doesn't agree with it!! Showing up unannounced doesn't make it any better!"

"Woah. Okay, I'm sorry."

"And if you don't know where I live, there's this thing called a cellphone."

"I know." he replied shamefully

"and you didn't think of using it??" I said, flustered.

"I did- I thought it'd be better as a surprise."

A forced laugh escaped from my lips at his last remark.

"Really?" I scoffed "You really thought-?"

I stopped myself and shook my head.

"You should go." I whispered

"What?"

"You should leave, this isn't a good time and it'd be better for everyone if you left."

"But-"

"I want to talk too, this is just a really bad time."

He stood up, his warm facial features dimming into a frown. He was of a taller stature, maybe six foot one. His hair was grey along with the five o'clock shadow that lined his chin. His eyes- the same color as when he left, possibly even brighter.

Mark walked out the door right as I was about to walk in, and we bumped into each other.

"Oh my bad." I mumbled

I gingerly rubbed the top of my forehead where it made contact with Marks chin.

"Sorry about that, are you okay?"