Apologetic - Mark
A/N: Wow, I always
really get into writing Mark fluff^^
This is basically based off Winner’s song, Don’t Flirt.
Word Count: 740
Mark leant across the cast iron table, taking your hand in his own, inspecting the bracelet upon your wrist.
“Is that new?”
You nodded, placing the fork you held down on the cheesecake platter.
“It was a gift from one of my friends,” you remarked, grinning as you glanced at the bracelet.
“It looks expensive,” your boyfriend murmured, releasing your hand, and lounging in his chair once more.
His brows furrowed as he
thought about which friend it could possibly be. Which of your friends had the
money to buy you such a nice gift? He couldn’t help but feel there was a
romantic undertone to it; the flashy rose gold hearts making his brows furrow even more. A gnawing thought crept to his mind.
His thoughts were interrupted as you picked up the fork once more, cradling a soft piece of cheesecake. You held the silver fork before Mark, your sparkling eyes disappearing as you chuckled at his astounded reaction.
He pushed his thoughts away, gladly accepting your offering.
“I can’t stay for long-”
The phone against your ear crackled as Mark muttered something.
“Because I’m meeting a friend at noon in Hongdae,” you replied, hurrying up the stairs, toward the studio.
You hung up as you
reached room 206, pulling the glass door open.
You smiled upon receiving greetings from Taeil and Johnny as they passed you out the door.
“How long can you stay?”
“About twelve minutes-”
Mark sat upon the sofa,
several notebooks and papers scattered about on the coffee table. He ran a hand
through his tresses, letting out a sigh; he was clearly stressed.
You sat beside him, running a hand along his arm, giving his shoulder an endearing squeeze. His gaze met your own before trailing along your figure.
“You look pretty today,” he complimented.
You smiled, brushing his fringe from his eyes.
“Which friend are you going to meet?”
His gaze fell to the
sparkling bracelet upon your wrist before settling on your exposed shoulders.
His expression seemed to darken.
He didn’t give you a chance to answer, abruptly standing.
“Why is your makeup so heavy today?”
He paced toward the door, turning from you.
“Are you seeing someone else?”
“Just tell me,” he groaned.
“You’re insane,” you blurted, standing.
“Who gave you that damned thing?” he questioned, meeting your gaze as he gestured to your wrist.
Flabbergasted, you stuttered, “S-She’s just a friend-”
Mark slouched in a
nearby chair as soon as he heard your confession. His mind had been gnawing at
him for days that you were seeing another man.
He let his hands cradle his face as he stared at the rug.
“Baby, I would never,” you sniffled.
Mark stood as he heard your muffled sniffle, his expression morphing from pained to guilt-ridden.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, tugging you into an embrace, “I don’t want you to cry-”
“I wanted to look nice for you,” you whined, sniffling.
Mark drew back, his gaze fretful.
“You look gorgeous,” he complimented, “You always do.”
His lips pressed to your forehead as he pulled you into his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I love you so much.”
Your eyes brimmed with
tears, yet they refused to fall.
Your lips parted in astonishment as you felt a hot tear land on your shoulder. You drew back suddenly, searching for Mark’s gaze. He avoided your gaze, a soft sniffle escaping him.
“Don’t cry,” you murmured, caressing his cheeks, “I forgive you-”
His bleary gaze met your own, his expression one of despair.
“I know you’ve been stressed lately and working so hard,” you soothed, wiping a stray tear away from his cheek with your warm thumb, “I’m sorry I’ve been distant and not been there for you like I should-”
“Stop-” he protested, brushing your hands from his face, “I’m the one who should be apologizing, not you.”
You were unsure of what
else to say, tugging his lips to meet your own as you hastily gripped the
shoulders of his shirt.
His nostrils flared as he tried to catch his breath, his lips clumsily following your own.
“I love you so much-” you murmured against his lips as you parted for a breath.
“You’re going to be late-” he whispered, letting his forehead meet your own.
You brushed his fringe from his gaze one more, letting your hand settle on his soft cheek.
“I want this weekend to be about us,” you cooed, “Stress-free and with just each other.”
He drew you into another embrace, burying his face in your soft hair.