Mark couldn't look at pictures with Donghyuck in then anymore. Whenever he laid his eyes on the younger, his heart would ache, and instead of the bubbly expression he would see from him, a scowl, almost like a glare, would appear on the younger's face. It hurt Mark. It hurt him quite a lot.
YOU ARE READING
ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ | ᴍᴀʀᴋʜʏᴜᴄᴋ
أدب الهواةɪɴ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏғ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴇᴛs ʜɪs ʀᴇᴅ sᴛʀɪɴɢ, ʜᴇ's ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ. sʜᴏʀᴛ sᴛᴏʀʏ! ʙᴇsᴛ ʀᴀɴᴋ : #1 ᴏɴ ᴍᴀʀᴋʜʏᴜᴄᴋ