failures IIII » kpop ✓

chapter 2

On the night when a half-dead Mark appeared on my doorstep and started talking about the lack of proper food in my fridge, I was terrified that he might've done something that he shouldn't have. I was the older twin, but I still saw him as my hero and he always took it upon himself to protect me. I wanted to be strong enough to do that for him, but I was always one step behind him. Even after mom left us and dad went a little crazy, there was still nothing that I could really do for him. Whenever we both fell, he was always the one who picked himself up first, just so that he could hold his hand towards me and help me up from the ground too.

'' Shit! What's the time? Is it really already three in the afternoon? Shit, shit, shit! '' The late afternoon sun was shining through the shutters and illuminating the dull hospital room. Nurses were chattering out in the hallway, while they were pushing their pill carts from one patient to another and the jumps on Mark's heart monitor became more frequent while he was watching me scroll through my text messages and panic. My short hair was ruffled and I still felt a little drowsy from sleeping, but I was quickly coming back to my senses. '' Why didn't you wake me up? Were you staring at that cute nurse and spacing out again? Mark! That's it, I'm telling her that you have a crush on her! ''

'' Don't you dare! '' Mark's face was instantly bright red from embarrassment and he raised his hands in defense. He tried to sound stern, but he was already stumbling over his words and stuttering. '' I t-tried waking you up, but then you started mumbling something about a certain Sehun and I was so disgusted that I had to wash my hands and go outside for a breath of fresh air. ''

'' Did you see this? '' I asked and showed him my flip phone, which was full of text messages from one of the members of the mafia. ''There are twenty text messages and the last one just says that I better call this guy back in ten minutes or he'll rip me a new asshole... Do you think that he was being serious? ''

Mark cringed at the vivid image that his imagination created in his head, then he pointed at the screen of my phone. '' Let's hope not. That sounds painful. You also got this text a good hour ago. Who's this Ten guy anyway? ''

'' I don't know, but he sounds like a psycho. He kind of reminds me of Chittaphon. '' I shuddered at the memory of my old high school rival and closed my flip phone with a loud snap.

The upperclassman never got over my intrusion in the drama club, where I instantly took over his position of the self-proclaimed queen, without ever actually getting any lead parts in the school plays. One day, he gave me a spoiled peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I was forced to spend a week on the toilet, while stole the tree number two role that I was supposed to get in our club's adaptation of Hamlet. After that - it was war. It lasted up to his graduation and all of our friends - both his group of buddies and my nonexistent squad - hated the pranks that we were always pulling on each other. '' Remember him? I fucking hated that guy. I still do. I wonder where he is these days. It wouldn't surprise me if he ended up in jail. He's the type of psycho that remembers to floss two times a day. ''

Mark raised an eyebrow and carefully asked: '' So... A psycho with really good dental hygiene? ''

'' Mork! I'm serious! ''

'' And I'm impressed. Remembering to floss two times a day? Wow, '' he mumbled and tried to hold back his laughter.

I smacked Mark's shoulder in annoyance and grabbed my jacket. Mumbling something about how I would pay him a visit the next day, I rushed out of his hospital room and hurried down the hallway. Mark's condition was stable and the doctors said that he would recover, but at this point, he still needed a lot of painkillers just to get through the day without suffering. I came up with a whole cover story about how he got shot by a street mugger, but he messed it up every time that someone asked him about it and we were both worried that one of the nurses would call the cops and tell them to come for an official interrogation. A part of me thought that perhaps it would be a good idea, but he was firmly against it. He kept saying that he couldn't remember what really happened and it hurt because I knew that it was lying. For the first time ever, my twin brother was keeping secrets from me.