Head Down

◤four◢

The next week and a half go by so slowly and uneventfully, Mark wonders if this is what his life is going to be like from now on. He hopes not,  because it would bore him to death before anything else could kill him. The house was small when Mark had first seen it, nothing like the luxury apartment he was used to in Vancouver. But now that he's occupying the space on his own, it's never seemed bigger. The house is actually quite... Echoey if no one else is there with him, Mark has realized.

He's currently laying down on his bed, staring up at his plain, white ceiling. He thinks back to a week or so ago, when he 'met' that boy at the park. The one with the flower petals. If Mark were to be honest, that boy seemed really weird during the only encounter he's had with him. I mean... Dead petals? Really? Was it that big a deal to step on dead petals? Probably not, most definitely not, and that boy was just making a big deal out of nothing. And whatever he said about his father? Was that really necessary? Mark could've lived without knowing, in all honesty.

But it's whatever.

The only other remotely interesting thing that's happened is that Mark now has a new neighbour. He doesn't know the family, has never seen the family, and doesn't even know how many people are in their family. All he's seen was the moving truck and sky blue convertible parked in the driveway next to his four days ago. He hasn't gone up to greet the neighbours, because despite everything, Mark is painfully timid. Also, the family next door were strangers. And a bunch of other half assed excuses.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the first day of school rolls around, Mark is anything but excited. He's pained, if he's being honest.

Leaving at the ripe time of 7:15am, Mark half expects his neighbour to leave their house too. There was a fifty-fifty chance the family has a kid. Or kids, who knows, Mark surely doesn't.

He's locking his front door when he hears it, when the hears the goodbye, the door closing and the keys jingling. He has half the mind to turn left and see who left the house, but he decides not to when he realizes that he should mind his own business. Instead, he finishes locking his own door and pockets the keys before walking down his driveway, starting the quiet walk to school. He has his earbuds in his hands, and he's untangling them when someone speaks to him.

Who even cared about Mark's plan to just make his way through everything smoothly and quietly, right? Because no one in this town did. Not the strange boy with the petals the other day, and certainly not the person who's speaking to him right now.

"Hey!"

Turning his head to the right, Mark sees what might've been the textbook definition of a city boy.

White sneakers, dark jeans, black, ripped at the knees and the thighs (are are those fishnet underneath?), white shirt tucked into his pants, held together with a thick black belt, and to top it off, an acid washed denim jacket. With more rips. And loose threads. Oh. And how could Mark forget. The coral pink hair.

He's gaping at this point, there's no doubt in his mind about it. He's gaping at a stranger who has pink hair, city boy style, and the most dazzling smile he's ever seen in his eighteen years on earth. And he's seen Johnny flash a megawatt.

"Hello?"

Snapping out of this thoughts, which were strangely consisting of how immaculate the boy in front of him is, Mark gages the other's facial expression and realizes that he's waiting for an answer. Or a reply. Or for something back. A greeting maybe. Mark couldn't tell you, he was busy staring at the most perfect thing he's ever seen. His smile falters slightly and the shine in his eyes dim and Mark suddenly hates himself. Hates himself more than he did when he realized that he ruined Jaehyun's surprise anniversary gift for Johnny. The last thing Mark would ever want to do, is take the sparkle and light out of the boy in front of him. Love at first sight? It was a bore and utter lie to Mark before he laid eyes upon his neighbour. Or maybe he's being irrational, he doesn't know. All he knows is that the stunning boy in front of him is slowly backing away and that he needs to say something quick, so he ignores the 'no talking to strangers' rule he's lived by for eighteen years.

"H-Hey! Hi! Hello! I'm M-Mark!" He greets, stupidly fast and stupidly loud, and stupidly everything because Mark always loses his cool in front of a cute boy and it isn't fair. He probably sounds stupid, stuttering uselessly and probably sweating for all he knows.

But bless the beautiful boy in front of him, because all he does is laugh so brightly that Mark thinks that laugh added nine years to his lifespan.

"I'm Jaemin," he introduces, smiling brightly once again and sticking a hand out. Mark stares at the hand for a good, what he assume is, ten seconds before coming to his senses and shaking it. Jaemin simply laughs once again, maybe he's used to the effect he has on people, who knows, but then he's talking again and that's all Mark can focus on. "Are you heading to school? You know, the only one here?" He chuckles, and oh God, Mark wants to hear that all day, everyday.

He nods dumbly instead of vocalizing an answer, but he can't chastise himself too much because Jaemin continues to smile and he continues to stare. Is Jaemin even human? Does he have this effect on everyone? Is it witchcraft? Mark has a lot of questions, but not a lot of time to get answers because Jaemin is soon latching onto his arm.

Wait.

Jaemin is actually latching onto his arm.

Is this real? Mark asks himself, still staring at Jaemin as he leads the two of them on their walk to school. Am I dreaming? Please kick me.

Mark must've said the last part out loud, because less than two seconds later he feels pain on his left shin.

"Ow!" He exclaims, staggering his steps as he brings a hand down to rub at the sore spot which will most probably bruise. He looks up and sees Jaemin smiling at him again, and as mesmerizing as it is, it's teasing. Mark has half the mind to be annoyed. Jaemin plays rough, and Mark is all too reminded of his upbringings. Jaemin looks like he's from the city, dresses like it. Could... He be from the city? Mark doesn't think about it for too long though, he doesn't want to have his hopes, probably, crushed.

"You asked for someone to kick you," is all Jaemin replies with, shrugging his shoulders and pulling Mark up. He loops their arms together once again and starts to lead them once again. He makes conversation along the way, but Mark is just enthralled by the sound of Jaemin's voice.

Yeah.

He learns that he can't really be annoyed at Jaemin.