Affinity // (GOT7 Markson)

Chapter Twenty Four - Affinity

"You were gone entirely too long monkey. I almost had to make friends with Linda. She started to actually talk to me, it was weird." Krystal said, sitting cross-legged on the sofa as Mark placed his belongings down in the living room.

He wanted so badly to be happy and cheerful that he was around friends and home, but his anxiety about Jackson was robbing him of that.

"Kris, I'm worried about Jackson." He finally said, staring blankly into Krystal's eyes. He chewed on his bottom lip a little, unsure what else to say.

"What's going on?" Krystal said back, adjusting herself on the couch to pay more attention.

Mark sat down next to her and flung his head back, his hands covering his face as he grumbled and attempted to exhale all of the stress from his body.

"He's on his way to confront his father," Mark said from behind his hands. "His father is threatening to name a new heir to their family business and fortune: A boy that isn't even related to Jackson... a boy that his father even had the audacity to hire in order to break Jackson and I up."

"Wow, that's seriously messed up. Want me to beat him up?!" Krystal said, trying to lighten the mood like she always did.

Mark wasn't feeling it.

"Look – I'm sure his father is just bluffing. That's how all dads are anyway, they like to control and micromanage their son's life. Especially someone as powerful as Jackson's dad; he doesn't know what it's like to not get his way. He's just a big kid throwing a tantrum because for once Jackson didn't succumb to his every command." Krystal spoke softly, placing a comforting hand onto Mark's shoulder.

Mark forced out a small side smile at Krystal, "You know... you don't always bestow nuggets of wisdom, but when you do... man do you ever. Thanks."

Krystal answered with a smack to Mark's leg. "You jerk. I'm always right! I'm like a damn counselor. I'm like a sage or a shrink."

***

Jackson slowly drove through the large black steel gates, his gaze fixated on the door in front of him.

Ever since getting the news of his father giving up Jackson's rightful inheritance, he had slowly distanced himself from this place. It wasn't home anymore. And even when he closed his eyes and imagine it, it still didn't feel the same.

He wasn't ever going to be home. Not until he finally made his decision.

"Janice, tell my father I'm here to speak with him," Jackson instructed the plump cleaning woman. She stared back at Jackson as if she'd seen a ghost, her hands gripped tightly on the broom as if she was going to fight Jackson off.

"Please, Janice," Jackson said again. She simply nodded and backed away quickly, disappearing up the stairs.

Jackson's home was large – too large. There were famous paintings lining all of the hallways, pictures of his family and even a portrait of Jackson's father. At the end of one hallway, there was an empty square on the wall, it was intended for Jackson's own portrait when he took over the family business. Right now, though, it was just a vacant area that signified everything that was wrong about his life: he didn't fit.

As he sat on the leather couch in the foyer, his eyes nearly welled up with tears thinking of the things that had happened between his father and him.

He was the black sheep – the one that never did as he was told. Even by being born gay, Jackson was already defying his father. Sitting there, looking at the empty space next to all of the men in his family's pictures... it was like he was looking at his future. Would he ever belong again?