Markjin: The Walking Dead

Under the Influence

It was dark. It was silent. It was warm. Just the way Jinyoung liked it. So then why, he asked himself, could he not sleep? Jinyoung turned over restlessly to face the door. Despite the much nicer office with the sofa bed that Mark had offered, Jinyoung had decided to continue sleeping in the cell. He wasn't quite sure why. It wasn't that nice. In fact, it wasn't nice at all. The bed was hard, the grey walls unwelcoming, and the stone floor was like ice in the morning. However, there was something comforting about the door. The thick oak, metal bars, and heavy bolt (although which, admittedly, was useless as it was on the outside of the door) was comforting to him. He no longer thought about it as keeping him in; it was keeping monsters out.

Jinyoung sighed. It would be nice to have a clock in here, he contemplated. He missed the green luminescence of the digital Scooby-Doo clock in his old room. He used to find the light annoying and would throw a shirt over the clock to cover it. But now, lying here in a pitch black police station cell in God knows where, he really, really missed it. Some minutes later, but without a clock he had no idea how many, Jinyoung got up and hopped across the freezing stone to the door. For such a heavy door, it opened without a creak. He padded down the corridor past two other cells, empty of course, to another door which opened into the main body of the station. He slipped around the reception desk and, carefully stepping over littered files, headed through to the back. He was about to flick the kitchen lights on when he noticed a hunched over figure at the table. For a moment, his heart leapt in fear and his pulse quickened. He quickly recovered himself though when he noticed the silhouette was Mark-shaped. Jinyoung paused in the doorway, hovering uncertainly, half tempted to take flight back to his room and half curious find out what Mark was doing. And he was hungry. Was he really going to let his shyness come in between him and his stomach?

"Um..." Jinyoung nervously made his presence known. Mark turned his head slightly, but didn't seem surprised to see him at all. Maybe it took a lot more to surprise him now. Receiving no further acknowledgement, Jinyoung shuffled over to the sink and filled a glass of water all the while feeling strangely self-conscious. The lights were still off, so Jinyoung could only see the silhouette of Mark's slim figure hunched over a beer bottle. So silent was it but for the ticking of the kitchen clock that Jinyoung jumped, almost dropping his cup, when after several minutes of stillness  Mark took a large swig from his bottle and slammed it back down on the table. He then cocked his head to one side, surveying Jinyoung who suddenly became aware of his bedhead and the loose vest that barely covered his torso.

"Want some?" Mark tilted his bottle forwards. Jinyoung shook his head. A curious smirk spread across Mark's face; he took another gulp and then pushed himself up from the seat. He staggered slightly towards Jinyoung who tried to take a step backwards before realising he was already backed up against the counter.

"Shouldn't really be drinking I suppose, end of the world and all that," Mark drawled. The scent of intoxication fanned Jinyoung's  face. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. "If you haven't noticed, I'm a lightweight."

"Uh..." Jinyoung faltered, his face flushing with the sudden, acute awareness of how close Mark was standing. Mark leaned in and tipped the remaining contents of the bottle into the sink behind Jinyoung, arm brushing Jinoung's. Mark watched its contents pour out, almost fascinated by it.

"Half a bottle," he commented. His eyes met Jinyoung's, he hadn't moved from his position. His arm was still outstretched around Jinyoung, the bottle hanging over the sink. He dropped it and it rattled against the metal. Jinyoung flinched. Mark craned his neck to raise his face closer to the slightly taller man. "You..." he whispered, "You saved my life."

Finally some sort of gratitude. It made Jinyoung  uneasy though. He cleared his throat. "Um, I almost got us both killed before. I tried to do my best."

"It seems you always try your best," Mark smiled, but not so much in a comforting way. His hand reached up to brush Jinyoung's fringe from his forehead and smoothed his thumb over the worried creases.

"I..." Jinyoung could feel his heart beating faster.

"I've never had anyone to save my life before, it's almost...nice," Mark's hand glided down his cheek. His words were hard to make out through his slur, but their tone sent a strange feeling through Jinyoung. He couldn't find the words to reply. Mark's eyes scanned Jinyoung's face, flickering over his lips. He bit his own, his eyes coming back to meet Jinyoung's. All sorts of tingles were running through Jinyoung's body that his thoughts had become mush. "Welp, bedtime!" Mark declared suddenly and drew away from Jinyoung. The cold air rushed in to replace the warmth they'd shared in their close proximity and Jinyoung shivered, although he wasn't completely sure whether it was caused by the cold or not. Mark said nothing more. He steadied himself on a chair, briefly pressing a hand to his head, as he left the kitchen. Jinyoung washed the bottle and his glass and then went back to his cell; his hunger had been forgotten. It had been replaced by a new longing.