Obsession

That Type Of Guy

"First off, this is a walking stance. This stance gives you perfect balance. It should be so that if someone tried to push you over, you wouldn't even sway," Mark's feet are planted on the ground as if he's in mid-stride. I copy him, moving one foot behind the other but slightly more to the side than normal. "Your front leg is too straight, and your back one is too bent. Bend your front leg so that you can't see your toes and lock the back one." I obediently do as he says. "Good," Mark walks a circle around me studying my position and nods in satisfaction. Then, to my surprise, he roughly pushes against my arm. I lose my balance, feet automatically adjusting themselves as I stumble a few steps to the side. "But not that good," he remarks with a smirk. I straighten myself, a little haughtily, and try to regather my dignity.

"Okay, so what's next?"

"Do you know how to punch?"

"Of course I know how to punch," I scoff.

"OK then, show me." I punch the air in front of me and then look at Mark for his approval. Instead, I see him holding back another amused smile.

"What?" I demand irritably. So maybe I get a little grouchy at this time of night (or more likely morning; I've lost track of time).

"Where do I begin?" He muses. "First off, you're not making a fist properly. Secondly, you are punching just with your arm, there's no strength in your punch. Third, you are not punching in the right place." I fold my arms as I'm being told this.

"First, this is how I've seen other people make a fist. Second, what do you expect me to punch with? My hand is connected to my arm. Do you want me to punch with my leg? And third, I'm punching in front of me. That's where I'd expect the person to be if I was to try and punch them."

"First, the thumb should be here," he takes my hand and gently places my thumb over my curled fingers, "Second, punch with help from your hip and use your other hand to guide you. As you do so, twist you hand." Mark demonstrates in slow motion. He extends his left arm outwards while his right fist is at his hip and facing towards the ceiling. As he punches with his right, he turns his left fist so the wrist is facing upwards as he pulls his hand to his waist. I see his punching arm simultaneously twists so that his wrist is facing downwards. "You see?" He does it again, but much faster. His punch looks deadly. I feel sorry for anyone who gets into a fight with him. "Try it." I punch slowly, making sure that I twist my fist 180 degrees before I hit my invisible target. "Good. And now the third point. Punch to the centre." I look at him confused. He moves my extended fist a bit to the left so that it seems I'm punching at a slight angle.

"Okay, why?"

"If your opponent's coming towards you, you want to hit them in the centre of their chest, right? Not their side. They could run into you. Think of it this way," Mark approaches me from straight on. I'm still holding my fist up and it's starting to ache but I force myself to keep it there. Mark stops a millimetre from my outstretched hand. He opens his arms wide. "With your arm punching straight forward, I could hug you from here." He steps forward. I panic and take a step back. He laughs and adjusts my arm to the centre. "From here," he takes another step and walks into my fist, "I can't." My hand, numb from holding it up so long, drops to my side.

"Hey, Mark! And...girl?" We both spin around to see a young man standing in the door way dressed, strangely, in bright pink pyjamas. His dark hair is cut short and shaved at the sides. Wide eyes goggle at us under straight, thick, black eyebrows as he scratches the back of his head awkwardly as if he has accidentally walked in on something private. I can understand why. Mark's arms are still outstretched so that it probably looks like he's actually trying to hug me which, I mean, he kind of was but not exactly in the same sense. Mark's arms fall as he takes a step forward bewilderment clear on his face, most likely caused by the other's striking choice of wardrobe.

"Jackson! What the hell are you wearing?" Jackson looks down at his attire and then back up, his brow creased.

"It was my birthday present from Youngjae," he says defensively. They both stare at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing, Jackson's a high pitched peel of laughter remarkably similar to a dolphin. "It's fashion, man!" He says in English. As amusing as this all is, I'm feeling incredibly awkward and sort of wish I could become the floor. Who knows? Maybe wooden tiles would suit me? And I wouldn't have to bother with trying to make people like me anymore. Everyday would be simple; I'd just be able to stay where I was and let people walk all over me and not have to feel bad about it because that's my purpose. I blink back from fantasising my life as the floor happily enduring people stepping on me all day to see Jackson is peering at me curiously. I remember my manners.

"I'mAimiHorikita,howdoyoudo?" I gabble rapidly and bow. Jackson, slightly taken aback, bows in response.

"Jackson Wang," he says. An uncomfortable quietness fills the room. All three of us unsure what to say.

"Well, I - um," Mark tries but words fail him and he slips back into the silence. Another few painful seconds pass.

"Ah!" Jackson shouts suddenly pointing at me. We both look at him questioningly. "The water girl, right?" He looks to Mark. Mark rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Yeah..." An evil smile appears on Jackson's face. He nudges Mark with his elbow.

"Stop it," Mark mutters. Jackson just raises his eyebrows at him. I am very confused, and slightly offended at being known as 'the water girl'. I have been trying extremely hard to put that embarrassing episode behind me, to no avail apparently. Jackson and Mark seem to be having a telepathic battle which involves lots of eyebrow wiggling until eventually Jackson turns to me and begins,

"Mark -"

"OK!" Mark quickly interrupts, "Jackson is very tired and needs his beauty sleep so we're going now! See ya, practice the technique I taught you," he smiles warmly as he herds Jackson out of the room. Jackson tilts his head backwards.

"You taught her a technique...?" Mark takes Jackson's arm and begins to pull him. Jackson tries to resist. "What kind of technique are we talking about here?"

"Jackson, shut up shut up shut up," Mark succeeds in tugging him out of the room. I'm still able to clearly hear Jackson's rambling even when they have reached the top of the ground floor stairs.

"I didn't think you were that type of guy, Mark," followed by a groan of annoyance. I stand alone in the dance room reeling from a strange mixture of embarrassment, bemusement and, for once, amusement.

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A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update! My exams finished awhile ago so no excuses really...I'm just lazy. Hopefully though I'll get back to my previous promise and update at least once a week. Soo, yeah. Bye :)

#MARKSONORNEVER