The Only Exception // (GOT7 Markson)

16

To tell the truth, I was hurt more than confused. I felt as though things were going perfect.

"Please, just tell me what's going on. You're scaring me, Mark." I pleaded, still holding onto his arm gently.

With one quick motion, Mark yanked away his arm.

"Why don't you ask Tyler?!" Mark's stone cold voice faltered, shaking a little before giving up into a soft and timid cry. You could feel the hurt from a mile away.

Stunned, I backed up a step or two, unsure of what to say.

Mark advanced, walking towards the door. When he was standing next to me, he slammed my phone hard into my chest, nearly bruising my skin, then pushed his way past me, out into the hall and then out of the door.

I heard the front door close with a sharp slam. He was gone.

I looked down at the phone in front of me: "8 missed call(s) – Tyler Tuan 3minutes ago. One voicemail(s)."

It looked as though he texted a couple of times too, although none of the messages made any sense. They were simply strings of random letters, all thrown together.

I knew immediately that Tyler was drunk. He never called me unless he was drunk, and since he wasn't working for me and we weren't exactly on good terms, I knew it had to be something else.

I swiped the screen when I noticed that the voicemail was already listened to. That was probably what Mark was upset about.

Great.

With shaky fingers and a nervous swallow, I opened the message and put the phone to my ear, not prepared for anything I was about to hear.

"Jackson. Jackson! Why aren't you answering me?!...hic. I'm sorry I said those things about you... I know you are not a horrible guy. I'm the bad guy. Jackson?! Pick up the phone! Please. I'm lonely. I miss you. I'm sorry about everything. I know you like my brother, I'll leave you guys alone. He doesn't need to know anything, just please... Jackson, can I come over tonight? Just you and me okay, like before? Then I'll leave you alone for good. Jacks? Why won't you answer my-"

The message cut off after that, reaching the maximum recording time. I felt my heart rate skyrocket and my cheeks flare up.

There were pins and needles shooting all up my fingers and into my arms. My first reaction was to call Tyler back and rail him out, but I immediately thought of Mark.

He must be at least two blocks away by now, I thought, since he doesn't drive and no busses are running at this hour. If I left now, I would make it to him before he got home.

I scrambled around the room, throwing together my clothes and put them on frantically. Without bothering to put my jacket on, I sped out the door and down to the garage.

I chose the car closest to the door, wanting nothing else than to just be with Mark, to at least try and explain the situation; however, even I didn't know what sort of explanation I could give him that would make up for what he just heard.

I sped down the dark road, going a little too fast for that residential area, my eyes were peeled and darting around to the sidewalks, looking for any signs of my boy.

"C'mon Mark... where are you..." I whispered nervously to myself, my face alert and scared.

When I reached the end of the third block, the headlights caught a glimmer of Mark's blue blazer. I felt a flood of relief enter my system.

When I pulled up to the side of the road and parked, Mark already knew I was coming. He sped up, his walk now closer to a jog than any walk I'd ever seen.

"Mark!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the yards and waking a few dogs.

Mark didn't answer; he didn't even turn back at all, and this lack of care stung deep at my heart.

"Mark, please!" I called out, the cold air turning my voice into a grey fog that surrounded the air around me.

Still no answer from Mark, he was already almost on the next block.

"Please..." I whispered, knowing now he wouldn't hear, and wouldn't care even if he did.

Mark's footsteps became more and more faint, as he moved farther and farther away from me. I was sitting now, my head hanging low towards the ground, between my knees.

The chilling air bit at my ears, turning all of my exposed skin red. I didn't care, I hardly felt the cold, the only thing I could feel was the overwhelming guilt and shame that was now overcoming my entire being.

I pulled my phone out now, looking down at Mark's contact page. My thumb hovered over the call button for a second, the words began to blur at the amount of tears forming in my eyes.

He won't answer, why are you even going to try? I told myself, knowing that I was completely right. Mark was completely justified in making me feel this way, in reacting the way he did.

I knew that if it were me in his position, I would probably have done a lot worse. Still, the beginning of the night started so promising, and for once it felt as though there was no doubt we would be together... Now I couldn't feel any further from him.

And it was completely, utterly, and inexcusably my fault.

Before I could even form another coherent thought, I felt my rage boil from my mind and straight into my arm, picking it up into a fist and tossing it with all of my strength directly into my passenger side window.

The glass gave out almost instantly, shattering all over the side of the road, but mostly into the seat of the car as well.

My chest heaved deeply, in and out, as my anger leveled out. I had never experienced a panic attack, but as I stared down at my bleeding hand, I knew something was seriously not okay.

The air around me seemed to get thinner, every breath felt as though it was getting tighter and tighter, to the point that I felt as though no matter how hard I struggled to gasp for air, nothing was coming.

The intense amount of dread that came over me at that moment was made 100x worse by the fact that I knew if I called Mark to come back and help me, he wouldn't answer.

Nobody would.

I wouldn't, either, honestly.

I didn't deserve it.

Scared, hyperventilating, and shaking from the cold, I hoisted myself into my car, laying my body over the thousand chunks of glass that lined the leather. I slammed the door behind me and curled into the fetal position, trying my hardest to steady my breathing.

I counted to 100 slowly to myself, focusing on nothing more than just my breathing. It seemed to help a little, and as I mellowed out, I felt myself fall closer and closer into sleep.

Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty, eighty...one, eighty-

My body finally gave the most generous gift of being able to sleep.

Sleep away the hurt, the pain, the shame, of tonight.

I wasn't home though; no, tonight my bed was one I made myself. One of intense cold night air, glass, pain, guilt, tears, blood, and shame.

I had absolutely no clue what tomorrow would bring, and I was okay with not waking up after that to find out.