Flower Crown

6

tysm for 100+ reads :,) this chapter is longer bc of you guys
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"Jack?"

The pastel quickly set down the journal, the picture of Mark securely tucked inside. He watched the punk stomp over to him, an angry look on his face.

A pair of hands wrapped around the collar of Jack's sweatshirt, and he was lifted up in to the air.

"What the fuck were you doing with that? Why were you going through my stuff?" Mark growled, his eyes cold and empty. Jack stuttered to get something out, but nothing came. Mark threw him down on the bed, making sure to not hurt his precious little flower.

"Mark I-I-I," Jack tried again, but still nothing. He watched the punk grab the journal and threw it aside. His right knee rested between Jack's leg, and his other on the left side. Mark's hands came down on either side of Jack's face, and he looked down at the frightened boy.

"Did you read anything in there?" Mark asked, his breath tickling Jack's ear. The pastel swallowed harshly, his whole body hot from embarrassment and nervousness.

"N-no?" Jack said, the tone of his voice stating it more as a question than anything else. Mark looked at Jack straight in the eyes, their noses barely touching and their lips, only a mere inch from eachother.

Mark wanted to kiss Jack so badly. He wanted to feel what it was like to kiss another male. He wanted to see if his lips were as soft as his heart. Mark wanted to feel Jack kiss him back with the same passion he had.

"Mark," Jack whispered, his eyes half lidded, looking back and forth from Mark's eyes to his lips. He could feel the sparks bewtween them, the energy they had now was enough to power Tokyo, or so it seemed.

"What?" Mark replied, his voice a lot softer than usual. He too, felt himself start to close his eyes. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he was sure Jack could hear it.

"Kiss me."

-Time Skip-

(mwahaha i had to do it to ya >:)

Mark walked into class, his mind clogged and groggy. He wasn't in the mood for anyone's bullshit, he just wanted to sleep. But, since it was a math class, and it was the hardest class he had, he payed attention.

The teacher talked about useless equations and definitions for things Mark wouldn't need later on in life. He mentally groaned, checking the clock every minute, his leg bouncing up and down to the point where it could cause an earthquake.

"Mark?" the teacher asked, her voice having to be a little louder than usual since the punk sat in the very back. "Are you alright? You seem out of it today. Every question I've asked you, it's like you weren't paying attention."

To even her comment, Mark wasn't listening. He was too focused on the events that happened earlier that morning. Too focused on what did happen, and what could have happened.

"I'm sorry... my uh... grandmother passed away yesterday, so I guess I'm still a little saddened about it," Mark lied. His grandmother passed years ago, but she didn't need to know that.

"Well, why don't you go back to your dorm and rest? I'll email you the assignment for next Monday. Have a great weekend, and don't forget, finals are next Friday!"

Mark looked around, the whole class staring at him as if he had killed somebody and forgot to clean himself off. He packed his things, and walked out of the room, silently thanking the teacher.