Flicker // johnmark

thirteen

The only thing Mark can smell is smoke. It does a nice job at clouding the rest of his senses.

Sunlight seeps into his room now. He hasn't slept at all.

There's a rattle on his bedroom doorknob.

"Didn't we establish that there will be no smoking inside the apartment? Why the hell does it reek of smoke in here?" comes from the other side.

It's Renjun.

Mark doesn't reply. He just inhales more nicotine.

"Mark?"

The doorknob rattles again. "Open the door. What's up with you?"

Mark exhales a puff of smoke and throws the cigarette butt on the floor. He moves for the first time in hours, his muscles are so stiff that they ache.

But that can't compare to the ache in his chest.

He opens the door. Renjun has his arms crossed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Mark's not even fazed by the irritation in Renjun's voice. He has every right to be mad, Mark thinks.

"Nothing."

The word comes out raspy as hell.

"Nothing?" Renjun raises an eyebrow. "You look like a wreck."

Mark knows that. He doesn't care though.

Renjun rolls his eyes. "Whatever, just stop smoking in here. Go outside or something, Jeno's gonna get sick with the smell."

So Mark grabs his pack and walks out the front door. He's back on the streets again.

There's only one cigarette left.

He lights it and places the tip into his mouth. It does nothing for him at this point.

It's not even good anymore. The smoke isn't satisfying or numbing, it's just there.

Mark coughs, lungs being deprived of oxygen for so long. He throws the cigarette on the ground and doesn't care if it goes to waste.

He's walking down the sidewalk, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie. To where, he doesn't know.

He stops after a few minutes - of course he's here.

Second floor, last door on the left, number 24. Johnny's old apartment.

Mark sighs. He's disappointed in his muscle memory.

There's no point in being here.

He ends up going back to his own apartment to get money. He needs more cigarettes.

Seven dollars down the drain. Mark walks out of the convenience store and lights one right when he gets back on the sidewalk.

The pain still doesn't subside. He doesn't care.

The smoke and taste of nicotine are so bland now. He doesn't care.

Johnny's not here with him. He doesn't care.

—

When Mark's not smoking, he sleeps. He has nothing better to do.

Jeno knocks on his door. He says something along the lines of eating, and there's food out on the counter.

Mark cracks open his eyes and rolls onto the floor. He ignores the pain in his body as he stands up.

He's hungry for once.

"Did something happen with Johnny?"

Mark almost drops his fork. He knows Jeno's curious, but there's a slight vex in his tone too. Mark doesn't wanna talk about it.

"You're just really depressed all of a sudden." Jeno shrugs as he eats his own food.

Mark finishes eating and leaves the kitchen without a word.

—

Mark craves that nicotine, but it's sad how the numbness is no longer comforting.

All Mark has is a headache and heaviness in his heart. Plus he's tired.

It's shitty. Mark hates this.

He hasn't cried in days because he refuses to. Whenever tears prick his eyes, he presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It helps suppress them from spilling.

"Mark,"

There's banging on his door. Mark flinches.

"Someone's here to see you."

Renjun doesn't sound too happy. When does he ever, though.

Mark inhales and gets up from his mattress. He doesn't even make eye contact with Renjun when he walks to the front door.

Tall figure, messy hair peeking out from under a hood.

"Hey,"

That fucking voice.

Mark freezes.