Two Can Keep a Secret || Mark Tuan (Got7)

10

[ trigger warning ]

Mark sat in the hospital hallway for God knows how long. At the start, he had stood just beyond the door to your room, but after the first blood-curdling scream left you, his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor.

And there he sat. Nurses and doctors passed by without a word. The clock ticked on the opposite wall at a glacial pace. Mark stared at his fists held limply in his lap. He had never felt so helpless in his life, but he was vaguely comforted that Jackson was in there with you, holding your hand.

Time kept crawling by. Mark rubbed at his tears roughly. Was it his fault this was happening to you? Didn't really matter if it was or not, because he would blame himself forever.

Mark had never imagined the white picket fence life for himself, but you changed his mind. For someone who was convinced he was wholly unlovable, Mark was ready to bend and break his life around you just for loving him.

So Mark prayed to whatever gods would listen. Prayed you would be okay. Prayed the baby would pull through. He swore with everything he had that he would make it work. He would be whatever you needed and he would be all that his father wasn't.

The door finally opened and Mark heard footsteps shuffling out. You had quieted sometime during his prayers and that made Mark nervous.

At long last, Jackson stepped out. "You can go in now," he said softly.

Mark leaned forward, like someone had socked him in the gut. He buried his face in his hands and could no longer hold the tears at bay.

Jackson crouched down, clapping his best friend on the shoulder and shaking him a little. "Get up, bro," he said after a moment.

Mark sobbed, "What do I say?"

"You say whatever you have to so she can get through this," Jackson told him rather firmly. "You and me... we will never know what that pain is like."

Mark bobbed his head and composed himself, rising shakily to his feet with a strong arm from Jackson.

Jackson held him steady and once convinced his friend was stable, gave him a nod and cocked his head toward the room.

Dragging his feet, Mark entered and shut the door quietly behind him.

You lay in the hospital bed, hands overlapped on your stomach, eyes somewhere on the window opposite him. When you heard the footsteps, you used what little energy you had to turn and look at him, whispering, "Hi."

"Hi," he said back, pulling up the nearest chair beside your bed and plopping down heavily.

"It was...," you choked, voice faltering in an instant. You bit your lip, eyes filling with a new wave of tears. "They said this happens. It happens for any number of reasons."

Mark reached forward, taking your hand and holding it between his own. "Okay," he sighed, wanting you to know he understood, but he lacked the words to convey any of what he felt.

You stared at him, seeing he had been crying out of your sight. Gripping his hand tightly, you sucked in a breath and rasped, "I lost the baby, Mark."

Mark had known that deep down, but hearing you say it knocked the wind out of him regardless. "It's okay," he tried to console you, stroking your fingers.

Your face tensed with agony. The lingering pain in the core of your body was nothing compared to the pain in your chest, where your heart was twisting violently. "I put so much stress on it and me and...," you trailed, looking away.

Mark's first instinct was to reprimand you for blaming yourself for something completely out of your control, but he couldn't bear to scold you. "Stop," he interjected gently, looking at you with intent. "It's not your fault."