❝ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʙᴀʙʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ
ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ sᴛᴏʀᴍ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ's
ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴs ᴡᴏʀᴋ. ❞Mark put his hands together and blew on them, trying to heat himself up. The distance between his house and the one he had just left, was massive. He was so surprised that they lived that far away, and thst there was no mode of transport he could've used. Mark wasn't scared of the fact that he was walking through the dark streets, but instead that his parents might think ill of him, for returning home at such an odd time. Ever since he was younger, he was known as the perfect kid, that was after his older brother disappeared.
Mark's grades at school jumped up and he somehow became better at sports. The people at his school started appreciating him more, and he was getting more well known for his improvement. But as that happened, Mark's personality changed as well. In front of his parents, he would not dare to talk about the things he would do. He would skip class, stay out late (once his parents were asleep of course), and he even thought of having alcohol before he turned 18. He only thought that, but couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Lee Minhyung." His mum said, as soon as Mark entered the house. She never actually called him by his Korean name, only did it when she was extremely annoyed at him, or worried. The last time she called him Minhyung was when he forgot to tell his parents about a school trip, and they waited outside his school for a whole hour before they finally returned. "Where in the world were you?"
"Alright, I have a good explanation." Mark stared, taking a seat opposite the one his mum was sitting in, and ignored the stare his dad was giving him. To be very honest, his dad was less strict, but his mum was more understanding, and so, he approached her first. He didn't want to lie to them, and honestly, the group he just met never said anything about not telling anyone. "You know the storm that occured at my school?"
His parents nodded and then urged him to continue. After they had seen the news of their child's school being engulfed in a storm, of course the only thing they could do was worry. He wasn't picking up his phone, mostly because Donghyuck accidentally dropped it out of Mark's bag, resulting in it cracking, and because Mark was unconscious for most of his time away.
"I caused it." Mark confessed, taking a deep breath and then leaning back. His parents exchanged looks, and then let out a laugh, telling Mark to not joke about something like that, and especially not now. Mark had done this multiple times before. Once he finished reading a comic, he would slide down the stairs, staring into space and muttering some things his parents didn't quite catch. He would then sigh loudly and put his head on the kitchen counter, looking up at his dad as he cooked. Then Mark would sigh again until they asked him what was wrong. Mark would end up telling them what happened in the story, and then blink a few times and jump, yelling something about how he was going to search for a radioactive spider.
"Mark, baby." His mum said, muffling her laughter with her hands. "You can't create a storm. That's not how humans work."
"That's the thing mum!" Mark replied, shuffling forwards in his seat and placing his elbows on his knees. He was going to make sure that his parents believed him. "I had just gotten rejected-"
"You like someone?" Mark's dad interrupted him and poked the glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. "Mark, you should tell us about this kind of stuff. We understand you're a growing teenager, but we need to know this kind of information."
"Okay okay." Mark's mum put her hands up and then gestured for her husband to be quiet. "But first, finish your story."
"I got rejected and then the storm began." Mark explained, using his hands to show how a large cloud formed. "Then when I told the storm to go away it created a hole, directly above me!" Mark emphasised his point by holding up a finger towards himself, poking it into his chest. "And then when Donghyuck knocked me out, the storm disappeared apparently."
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ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ | ᴍᴀʀᴋʜʏᴜᴄᴋ
Hayran Kurguᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴍᴇᴛᴇᴏʀ sɪx ᴋɪᴅs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴏʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʜᴀs ᴛᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ɪs ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ