Mark wakes up with the stark but quiet awareness of “, I’m awake and I don’t want to be.” His eyes are still closed and his blankets are pulled up over his chin, warm. He turns to nuzzle back into his pillow and force himself back to sleep when he hears footsteps come walking towards his door. The steps are purposefully light and airy, a sneaky blue and black, and Mark knows he’s about to be bothered. He still stubbornly closes his eyes and pulls his duvet over his head anyway; it’s too early for this.

He hears the doorknob click and his door opens, lavender breathing filling in Mark’s senses. Bambam, then.

“He’s still sleeping!” Bambam whisper shouts to the rest of the members, voice quiet but colors a loud and smooth mauve.

“Bam, shut up! Oh my god, stop being so loud! Close his door at least-” His door is quickly, but quietly closed but Mark stills hears -or at least sees- the conversation the members are having in their kitchen, no doubt.

Mark sighs. Oh, yeah. Mark closes his eyes as the events from yesterday play in his mind.

He sticks an arm out to get his phone and checks the time; it’s just a little past ten am. He should probably get up soon but he still feels a little weak, a little too lightheaded than normal. To be honest, the thing that’s causing Mark the most apprehension is how s might treat him now. After telling and talking about his synesthesia yesterday after he all but fainted, Mark has actually been too tired to truly gauge their reactions.

He knows he’s been met with surprised support, but that’s as far as he saw before he just wanted to curl up and sleep for a week. He’s actually surprised they let him sleep as long as he did.

He stretches and slowly gets up from the bed, taking note of how he feels. Once he deems it safe for him to stand up he does and makes his bed, the sheets rustling a crisp linen white; he’s already awake and obviously not going to be able to fall back asleep so he might as well get some food.

He pads slowly and silently to the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes and when he enters it immediately falls silent, colors dropping from his vision like crayons rolling off a table.

Mark stops and squints at the others in front of him, all staring at him wide eyed and worried, natural sunlight from the window and the kitchen’s artificial lights highlighting their features. They look like they think he’s going to pass out again, probably. Mark sighs a quiet maroon, trying to not let his slight irritation show.

“What’s for breakfast?” He mumble asks instead, sitting at his usual place at the table, rubbing any leftover remnants of sleeps from his eyes, exhaling deeply. From the corner of his eye, Mark can see Yugyeom, Bambam, and Youngjae physically stop themselves from answering him when Jinyoung scuttles over with food for him, laying everything down in front of him. The bowls make dull brown thuds against the table.

“Thanks, Jinyoungie,” he mutters, biting his tongue to remind himself not to roll his eyes when Jinyoung responds in the quietest voices he’s ever heard. “You’re welcome, hyung.”

He says it in a weird almost too light to be turquoise blue that Mark doesn’t think suits Jinyoung at all.

Mark starts to eat and chews a silent beige as all six members stare at him, unblinking. He slams his spoon down harshly on purpose to make them flinch and his lips quirk when the maknaes all shout out in surprise amid blazing fire truck red and warming orange.

“Hyung!”

“What the heck, hyung!”

“Do you like torturing us in this way-”

Jinyoung rises from where he’s situated to level them with a glare that could freeze death when Mark waves him down. “It’s fine, Jinyoungie,” he mumbles around a spoonful of rice. “It’s really ing weird to see them being this quiet. Besides, sometimes it’s nice having highlighter orange and lime green smacked into your face in the morning.” Mark makes a silly face at them to let them know he’s not mad, but also smirks to let them know he’s also not lying.

“Excuse you hyung, but you better be talking about Gyeom and Jaejae cuz I am way too good for those ugly colors-”

“Um, what? Bammie, do you even look in the mirror? I bet you you’re the orange, ugly attracts ugly after all.”

“Wow, you’re right! That must be why you’re my best friend-”

Youngjae’s bright yellow laughter fills the room as the maknaes begin to banter bicker, Mark giggling into his food, shoulders relaxing. Jackson has his hand over his mouth but it doesn’t stop or muffle his high pitched shimmering gold laughter. It takes no time at all before he’s fully laughing at the maknaes, hands over his face at their antics. He peeks over the tops of his hands to glance at Mark real quick, and finds him smiling brightly at the maknaes, eyes crinkling.

Jackson stares at him as he leans against the counter, trying to get his breathing more under his control. Mark is smiling as he eats, adding fuel to the maknae fire by making comments every so often that they use to build more banter between them. His shoulders are soft and relaxed and when he smiles, it’s easy and less stiff than a while ago. Jackson shakes his head at himself, he knows Mark, why would this situation be any different than any other? Sure, they’ve all discovered something that was previously unknown to the whole group, but this is still Mark and Jackson knows him best, knows that all he probably wants now is normalcy.

He moves from he’s standing against the counter to make his way to stand behind Mark’s chair, draping his hands over Mark’s shoulders. His own shoulders relax when he feels Mark lean back into his slight embrace, head leaning into Jackson’s abdomen. Mark tilts his head back to gaze up at him and when Jackson looks down at him, he grins such a bright smile, some giggles slipping through the small gaps of his teeth, and Jackson feels like a freight train crashed into his chest, he’s so beautiful.

Mark jerks suddenly to the side and Jackson’s mind immediately panics, reaching out to grasp at him, but then gets hit in the chest with a piece of soggy vegetable that Mark had dodged. Mark starts laughing harder when he sees that Jackson got hit by the food flying around from the maknaes now playful physical brawl, clutching at his sides as he leans over the chair to laugh.

He smiles widely at s, eyes crinkled and canines shining. Mark’s hair is sleep mussed and his shirt is wrinkled from curling up in thecsame position for hours. The members are still in their own bubble but are also side eyeing him from the corner of their eyes, grinning as he grins, smiling as he smiles. They didn’t want to make Mark feel uncomfortable, didn’t want him to close them out; he’s already quiet enough as it is.  

Militaric, Prussian blue bursting across his senses as Jinyoung tries to stop and scold Yugyeom and Bambam for wasting food, lime green and magenta laughter swirling mischievously in his periphery as they run away from him. He can see Jaebum’s low chuckles suffuse into the corners of all his colors, a deep black, encompassing, gathering at the edges. Mark puts his arms on the table and lays his head on them, trying to catch his breath even as a few cherry red giggles still come through. Youngjae’s honking sunflower laughter and Jackson’s golden shouts mix in with the others, a Rorschach made up of a nauseating mix of colors that looks like a baby’s first finger painting. It’s wild and uncontained and an absolute mess.

It looks like home to Mark.

(a/n) i'm sorry the ending is y! please feel free to ask me question about the au on cc!