The Only Exception // (GOT7 Markson)

18

Day three into my downward spiral and I was starting to look less like a young successful businessman and more like a homeless troll.

I hadn't shaved in so long I couldn't remember, and the condo looked like the aftermath of a bomb explosion. There was glass, dirt, alcohol bottles, and footprints all throughout the place.

I was alone, sitting on the bathtub floor, the cold water pouring down on me. I was fully clothed, and as I leaned my head against the wall, every droplet was like a tingle of electricity on my skin. I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the fact that I had stayed up for almost 48 hours that made me sensitive to everything.

When you're self-medicating with alcohol and drugs, time seems to blur; day and night are one in the same. This was the downside to it, though, sooner or later your body just disagrees with you and says enough is enough.

This was my enough.

I picked myself up and left the bathroom, drying myself off with whatever towel I could find. The crisp New York air came through my bedroom window, making me shiver.

On the desk was the mug that Mark had given me, the green ceramic glowing in the dim light. I sat down on the end of the bed, covered in water from head to toe.

I began to wonder where Mark was, and how he was feeling. Knowing him though, he was probably at school or busy at work – that boy didn't know what rest was. He had no choice but to remain busy, his family counted on him.

As I put my head down and thought it over, I felt embarrassed and shamed. I suddenly couldn't stand being in my own skin. All of the hurt, the pain, the anxiety and the betrayal I had put Mark through burned into my skull.

He didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve to be hurt like this. Especially by someone like me. And I... well, I didn't deserve him – that much was clear.

I reached over to the half full bottle of vodka lying on the ground, eager to top off my shame with a harsh shot, but then I stopped myself.

Instead of grabbing the bottle I reached over and grabbed the dry clothes that were lying next to it. I checked the time on the alarm clock: 2PM. Mark wasn't off until 4 today, I knew that much.

I didn't deserve Mark, no, I knew that. But I still had a moral obligation to right my wrongs. He needed to know I was sorry, and that I would do anything, absolutely anything to make it right.

I wrestled myself out of my wet clothes and changed into the dry ones. I found a large and dark pair of sunglasses in the dresser that hid my dark eye circles and my unkempt beard.

With a certain scared determination, I set off towards the café – this time I walked.

*

Upon arriving, the café was a little less busy than I had expected. Usually around this time it was busy with people getting off of work and those who hadn't started work yet getting their coffee.

I put my hands in my pockets and slowly made my way up to the front desk, I couldn't see Mark initially.

"Can I help you?" one of the short women asked. There was a bit of a point in her tone. I knew she knew.

"Is Mark here?" I said as I cleared my throat.

The girl looked me up and down as if I was some jerk who was asking her to prom, she was clearly not impressed with me.

She clicked her tongue and then turned away, disappearing into the back where I assumed Mark was.

I let out an anxious breath, knowing that Mark was ignoring my calls and that he wasn't shy about letting everyone else know the sort of person I really was. I deserved that too, I thought.