The Great Mistake (A Markimash Story)

Chapter 1: Mishap

There's a difference between having fun and being self-destructive. Sometimes that difference is easy to see.

And sometimes it isn't.

Mark, however, was a lifelong enthusiast when it came to blurring the difference.

He stumbled along the gravel and his feet crunched on the little gray crumbs, his throat burning with the liquor and his eyes rimmed with red. Mark looked like chaos had taken a room within the enclaves of his body and this was the way he would like to live his life forever.

But right now, he was getting tired despite the protests of his mind. His bones were resolute: they needed rest. The only problem with this was the unfortunate fact that Mark could not remember where he lived.

Luckily, he knew these streets, and he knew that Bob and Wade's shared apartment was just around the corner, tall and looming and always ready for him to crash in if he needed to.

There was a niche in the floor, and the tip of his sneakers got caught in the hollow area. Just before his body could bend in such a way that it would be impossible not to fall, he caught himself mid-trip. Leaning against a nearby brick wall for the sake of not falling again, he took a deep breath and felt the air inflate his lungs like balloons.

It wasn't that he was an alcoholic, because alcohol didn't control his life. What was it, then? He didn't really know. When he felt like he was dying and he needed a drink, he blamed it on the fundamentally meaningless but mandatory thing called "life." What better excuse than that?

He continued on his way, straightening his back and feeling it crack. His shoulders tensed up when he heard something in the alley. Immediately, he thought: mugger, thug, murderer. But when he looked over, he only saw two bodies pressed against each other and that was enough to sate him. He turned around the corner and the apartment building entered his view.

At this point, he really should have a key to the building. But Bob and Wade had neglected to give him one. He stopped in front of the locked door and contemplated his options, rubbing his chin. Said options were supremely limited. His phone was left behind, sitting somewhere on a counter in a dingy bar.

He would just have to do what he usually did, then.

His vision was blurring and his surroundings were less like solid shapes and figures and more like a spilled palette of oil paints in midnight-themed shades: grays and blacks and off-whites. But he could make out the windows, at least, distinguishing them by the glassy surface against the red bricks of the building. He coaxed up the window, finding it unlocked. This was a good area of Los Angeles and most of the tenants were casual about safety. Mark wondered if that was working for them so far, and the unlocked window said enough for him to come to a conclusion about that.

He entered easily, but found himself tumbling down to the carpeted ground the moment that he felt the floor beneath his feet. The strength in him was finally given out, bid to leave by the influence of beer pints from the bar by his work.

It took a minute and a considerable amount of effort for him to stand up again, his breath staggering. He was beyond tired now, this was exhaustion.

Wait --

Had Bob and Wade redecorated?

The apartment was slightly different from what his fragmented memory was able to recall, and he shook his head. No, that was impossible. Bob and Wade were busy people, always bustling about and spending time with their significant others. They couldn't possibly have redecorated so quickly -- he had stopped by four days ago. He was just too intoxicated, that was all.

He flopped onto the couch without a second thought. The window led directly into the living room, a fortunate circumstance because he wasn't sure if he would have been able to make it more than five or six steps. There was a Pokémon blanket on the black sofa, as if it was waiting especially for him.

As he closed his eyes and blacked out, feeling the waves of sleep whisper into his ears and wrap themselves around his entire body, he found himself thinking about how he couldn't remember if Bob and Wade had always owned a Pokémon blanket, or a black sofa.