I Thought So [Yancy x reader Fan-fic]

Chapter 04: Getting the help Mark needs

As you both rounded another corner in the prison, Mark slid onto the floor with his back against the wall, letting out a gasp for air. "I," he coughs to get some sort of air back into his lungs, "I need to work out more."

"S-same here, man," You choked out.

The both of you sat there, trying to catch your breath for some time, and after a while, you had finally caught it. Mark's eyes wandered around the hallway, looking to see if the both of you were followed by someone else. Thankfully, you weren't.

"So... Mark, was it? Are you okay?" You suggested as you turned to face him.

The man in question looked at you and nodded his head, his chest heaving. "Y.. yep! That's me and I'm fine. I just need to walk it off, y'know?"

You looked at him incredulously. He had a busted lip and he was donning two black eyes-- you could see bruises forming around his face. That was only his face! You couldn't even tell how his mid-area was. "How can you 'walk off' while you literally just got beaten to a bloody pulp?!"

"It's what I do best, walking it off I mean. My pretty face usually doesn't get beat up all the time," he smiled painfully as he leaned his head up against the wall. His dark brown hair fell into his face, revealing to you just how soft looking it is. His chest heaved unevenly; blood smeared on his face. You never got a good chance to look at him until now, seeing that you both just barely escaped a maniac's clutches. He wore a very cliche looking prison outfit. Like, it was a prop from a movie-- how odd. He also was wearing a prison cap that looked very small. You were positive that it was suffocating his big noggin' (it had to be hemmed on the back of the hat). Small dimples would appear when he smiled. He also had a big nose too... was everything big with this man, well, besides his ego..?

"Are you gonna tell me your name? If not, a really good name for you would be George 'cause you look like one."

"Huh?" You looked up and saw that Mark was looking intently at you, his eyes full of mischief.

"What's your name?"

You gave him your name and he repeated it several times so that he could remember your name. Once he was done, he looked over at you and he smiled wide. "Nice to meet you. My name is Mark Iplier (pronounced ip-lee-air)," he stuck out his hand and you shook it with your own, " thanks for helping me escape Bam-Bam. I appreciate it."

"My pleasure."

Mark teased you once you said that, his mouth moving before he could think, "I didn't realize I was at Chick-fi-la." You let out a snort. Oh no. You quickly covered your mouth and your face flushed a bright, embarrassing shade of red. Mark, who loved teasing the tar out of people (how unfortunate for you) spoke again, "I mean, I love a chicken sandwich as much as the other guy but everyone's only here for one reason," he leaned in closer, his smile growing wider, "the mints."

A high-pitched cackle, pierced the quiet hallway via you. You couldn't hold back your laughter. It was like a dam had suddenly broke and you couldn't stop. It was like music to Mark's ears because he loved making people laugh. It was like he had accomplished something that had never been done before. It felt... nice. What didn't feel nice though was the almost unbearable pain that littered his entire body.

"I," you let out a couple more giggles and started again, "It would be nice to have some real food around here. The cafeteria's food is slop."

"Exactly! That's what I told them!"

A couple of beats have passed before you spoke, "Mark, you are the funniest man I have ever met."

"Thanks! Though, you should know that I also have incredibly good looks--" Mark hissed in pain, his eyes watering. He jerkily moved his arms and tenderly cradled his stomach to the best of his ability.