Flicker // johnmark

nine

Mark lays in his bed, the blackbear vinyl that's playing overpowers the annoying sound of the air conditioner.

He's refreshed his instagram explorer page about a hundred times now. He sighs, turning it off.

He rolls over on his side, eyes laying on the digital clock that's located on his nightstand. It's late afternoon.

He was looking forward to summer for basically the whole school year, only to find it utterly boring.

Mark grabs his phone again, asking his friends if they want to go to the club tonight.

They agree.

—

Mark's drunk as hell. Everything's hazy, his legs are shaky as he walks. He's on the sidewalk, he can register that much.

His friends are nowhere in sight.

He doesn't remember slamming his hand on the pedestrian button. He doesn't remember walking across random streets.

He doesn't remember passing out in front of an apartment complex.

Mark wakes up with a pounding headache behind his eyes. He's in some bed, under some cheap blanket. He's still in his slacks and uncomfortable white button up from last night.

Eyes half open, he tries to make sense of his surroundings. It's obviously not his room since the walls aren't blue.

The stretch of smoke is in the air.

He sits up, getting dizzy from lifting his head so fast.

"Finally awake?"

Mark flinches at the voice. There's a tall figure leaning against the doorway.

"Who are you?" Mark's voice is croaky.

The guy comes closer, and Mark has to blink. Despite his headache, he can clearly recognize that this man's shirtless upper half is attractive.

"Johnny." he answers, standing at the foot of the bed. "You are?"

"Mark."

"Nice to meet you, Mark." there's a dip in the mattress, and Johnny's at the edge of the bed. Mark notices the cigarette between his fingers.

He scrunches his face up.

"Do you have a headache?" Johnny asks, bringing the cigarette to his lips.

Mark nods slowly. "Could you stop smoking?" there's slight irritation in his raspy voice.

The smell is giving him more of a headache.

"No can do." Johnny refuses. "You either complain more or join me."

Mark's lips part, as if he's gonna reply, but he just huffs in slight frustration. "How did I get here?" he's curious as he looks around more.

"You passed out in front of the building. Didn't wanna leave an unconscious young boy in the middle of the sidewalk." Johnny exhales smoke, and Mark watches the cloud dissolve into the already tainted air.

"By the way, how old are you? You reek of alcohol."

"Nineteen." Mark replies, not thinking through the fact that that's kinda personal information.

Johnny can be a serial killer for all he knows.

"Went out clubbing?"

"Yeah."

"The youth these days." Johnny inhales more nicotine.

Mark closes his eyes. There's a wave of stinging pain that suddenly hits him.

"I don't have any pain meds, but,"

The scent of smoke gets stronger, and Mark cracks open an eye. Johnny's holding the cigarette out to him.

"You can try this?" Johnny continues, smiling innocently. Mark's heart does something.

But the small reasonable part of his brain chimes in. Smoking is terrible, it only fucks up your lungs, that's what Mark has been taught all his life.

His mom will beat his ass.

"I promise it'll make you feel better."

The words seep into Mark's brain. He continues to stare down at the cigarette.

Johnny waits patiently with a gentle look on his face.

Mark breathes in, taking the cigarette with shaky fingers. He doesn't know what he's doing.

It's between his lips now, and he inhales again, and that's when it hits him. The taste of nicotine is prominent, dominating his senses.

He coughs. His pure lungs feel like something has invaded.

"You don't like it, huh?"

The cigarette slips from Mark's fingers and back into Johnny's hand. He gives Mark an apologetic look.

Mark finishes up his wheezing. It burns.

"I mean," there's a hopeful glimmer in Johnny's eyes when Mark speaks up. "I'll try it again?"

The cigarette's back in his hand. He breathes in slower this time, feeling the drug fill up his lungs. It's still burning, but it's better than the first time.

He exhales, amused by the cloud of smoke which leaves his mouth.

"Better?"

Mark finds himself nodding.

He inhales again. He exhales. Inhales. Exhales.

Johnny just watches him, head tilted.

They make eye contact as Mark breathes out. He's lost count of how many times he's done this.

The burning subsides. Mark feels nothing now.

He likes this feeling.

"I think it's done now." Johnny takes it away, tossing it to the floor to join the other used cigarettes.

Mark doesn't fully process what he has just done.

"Was it good?" Johnny asks.

He nods.

"Wanna another one?"

He nods again.