Mark knew since the beginning that it was never anyone's fault. One glance on paper and it'd tell you that it was just a natural consequence of hormones gone wrong - wrong place, wrong time, everything about it was wrong. One glance, that's all it took. One glance, and Mark regrets coming here, regrets coming to this stupid gathering of "friends" under the guise of a Christmas party, regrets everything. 

He's sitting next to Jinyoung, trying to distract himself with the stocking he received as a gift in the white elephant exchange. The texture isn't too bad, he thinks to himself as he fidgets with the stocking. He swallows, keenly aware of the pair of eyes tracking his every move, and even in his peripheral vision, she seems to be all he sees. Seungwan, with her golden hair cascading down her shoulders, topped with a red Santa hat, and Sooyoung is next to her cracking some joke but Seungwan's not laughing. Mark bites his lip. 

It is only later when he's getting something to drink that he bumps into her in the kitchen while everyone's engrossed in their Super Smash tournament in the living room. He's halfway through a swig of apple cider when she walks in, humming a bit to herself before she stops, finally noticing him standing in the corner. The kitchen light seems oddly dim, casting shadows over her face. 

Mark momentarily forgets to swallow the cider in his mouth. "Hi," he says quietly, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. 

She makes her way closer to him, taking a cup and pouring some cider for herself too. "Hi," she merely replies, and there's a sort of emptiness in her voice that mirrors his, and sometimes Mark wonders when they started becoming this way. 

He's never been one for many words. But between them has always been a kind of tacit understanding: an exchange of looks, a faint brush of fingers, whispers that no one could catch if they weren't paying attention. Mark swallows, both hands setting his cup down on the counter, and waits. 

"I'm doing okay," she chokes out, giving him a forced smile. He knows it's forced because he remembers the way she would smile at him whenever he would kiss her on the forehead, the kind of cheek-to-cheek grin that lit up his sky. This wasn't it. 

Mark sends her a pointed look. But he doesn't press the subject further, instead saying, "Don't tire yourself out, Seungwan." 

"I could say the same for you," she responds, looking down at his left ankle. He had twisted it during a dance practice and could only afford to dance lightly on it, if at all. He's sort of surprised that she had noticed considering they hadn't talked in a long time.

"You," Mark starts, but he closes his eyes in frustration. He doesn't know how to say it - how to say that he wants to be the one who makes sure that she doesn't exhaust herself too much, that he wants to be the one who holds her hand like the old times, that he wants to be the one who loves her, loves without restraint. And yet he knows that even if the cameras weren't flashing or that they had chosen different paths in life that this would still end up the same way. He knows because this is just how Seungwan is, afraid to love, afraid that it will just slip through her fingers and that'll be it. He knows because he can see it in her eyes, in the uncertainty that flashed through when he had first held her in his arms, in the sad resignation that had been mixed in with her tears when she finally decided to let him go. 

She turns to him curiously, and when his gaze meets her, his mouth goes dry despite drinking his cider just seconds ago. "Do you ever regret it?" Mark finally asks. 

One side of her lip quirks up in a sad smile. "No," she whispers, then her eyes harden. "But it was all for good." 

Mark wants to scream - he wants to shout that she's wrong, that how could this be good if his heart is breaking every second just staring at the way she no longer laughs at anyone's jokes let alone make her own, if a new crack is formed every time she tries to harden her heart when he knows hers is the most delicate of all. He just wants to prove her wrong, that's all he wants. He just wants one more chance. 

"I'll wait for you," is all he settles on saying, and he looks down at the granite counter, the patterns in the rock almost mesmerizing him. 

A pause. Seungwan takes another drink from her cup. "You don't have to," she finally whispers, her voice shaking, and he knows that it's gotten to her - the industry, the people, the expectations weighed heavily on her shoulders. 

He knows she's scared, and heck, he's scared too. "Don't you think we're better together? I'm not like the others, Seungwan. I -" 

She shakes her head, bittersweet. "No, it's breaking us, Mark. Let it go," she struggles to say, her eyes averted. 

And she leaves, feet softly padding against the kitchen tiles, and Mark is left alone again in the kitchen with the dim lights shining upon the empty space she had just left. When he emerges from the kitchen into the ruckus that is the living room, he notices that she is all but gone. 

He sits down forlornly, watching as Yugyeom and Bambam absolutely slay everyone else at the game, much to Sooyoung's dismay. Laughter fills the air, but all he can think of is a girl who has no more fire left in her eyes and a heart that is too distant from his - and yet, it is heart that keeps going, that keeps beating for her even if hers had already given up. Because one of his greatest virtues and fatal flaws is his quiet patience. He can wait. 

He can wait, he tells himself again. He's been waiting this whole time, and he could wait some more.

(One day, he thinks. One day.)