"you should get some help."

you're not sure what made the words escape your lips. one second everything is completely calm; you're sitting there, your feet propped up on the couch, body rolled into a small cacoon, hoodie pulled up around you.

you can't keep it in any longer. your natural instinct is to talk things through, but no one wants to fucking talk anymore; it's like one big monologue, one big facade that contains no communication, no reasoning - nothing to solve problems that you're so obviously facing.

or, that he is facing.

or, that both of you are facing, if you're to be completely honest with yourself.

the days have been ticking, the performances getting harder and longer, and suddenly you feel drop dead on your feet.

that doesn't stop him.

you can see how tired he is constantly, can see how his addictions are getting in the way of his dream, and you want to do something to help him.

(but when you ask him this, if there's anything that you can do, there's a long sigh in response. you don't want to bother him. you conclude in being unhelpful. you can't do anything if he isn't willing to be helped. maybe another day.)

that 'another day' isn't coming nearly as quick as you want it to.

'another day' could mean the difference between life and death. lately, you wouldn't be surprised if death clashed along beside him and fate, intermingling until there's nothing left to do but crash.

("please don't ever leave me," you said to him, one night, a year and a half ago. his eyes twinkled up at you from where he was sitting, crosslegged on the balcony, and his response seems to come instantly, easily, without a single speck of hesitance.

"never. i'll always be with you. i promise.")

you wondered if you were always this gullible. god, you hope not. what else have you fallen for without even realizing it?

you don't want to know.

something's are better off not knowing.

"i think that you should mind your own bisuness."

mark's response brings you back to reality, and as you tug your eyes off from the ceiling and down onto him, you swear that you've never seen this look in his eyes before.

they seem to hold a certain animosity that you were sure that mark wasn't even capable of having. not towards anyone, but especially not towards you.

you're tired of him thinking that this doesn't concern you. it may not be your life, and you completely get that, but the group's future depends on all of you, and if one of you screws it up, well. everyone is the group is affected.

and some things are not fixable.

you try to get this through his head. he can't act this way. he needs help.

it's a problem when he walks through the door at three o'clock in the morning, reeking of beer and god knows what else, it's a problem when he can't stand on his own two feet for longer than an hour for practice, it's a problem when everyone in the group is constantly pulled back and forth, arguing now more than ever -

he needs to understand this. why can't he understand?

the door slams, the walls rattling profusely as the door clatters back onto the platform.

your head is in your hands. your heart is pounding. you swear that your head cannot be anymore clouded than it already is.

you're happy that he walked away.

something's aren't worth the fight.

~

he holds your hand within his. the touch holds a sort of intimacy that you're not quite used to, but feel like you could get used to, if this were to keep up.

his eyes are glimmering, holding a look of pure joy and unmoving affection, something so tender that it makes your heart stutter in your chest.

he soon leans over, pushing his nose against yours, something that you recognize as an eskimo kiss.

you can feel his breath intangling with yours, can feel his body heat up close, can see how his eyelashes single out -

stop that, you think. i could seriously fall in love with you.

you don't want to admit this to yourself yet. or at all, for that matter.

you've known the guy for about six months now, and you swear that you have never felt such an immediate connection with someone else before you met him.

mark tuan.

someone that you find who actually cares about you, someone who you can relate to, someone who shares the same dreams as you do.

you need to get over this. this feeling, whatever it is, needs to go as soon as possible.

this isn't how it works. you don't just meet someone who lived on the other side of the world, then get placed in the same group as them, and then fall in love and live happily ever after.

that isn't how the world works.

or so, you don't figure, anyway. that seems to be what's happening, although you're not sure about the love part yet.

(you often think about what would've happened if he would've stayed in california, and you in hong kong. if your path's would've ever overlapped if you weren't given the same opportunity. if you wouldn't have met, if you'd be the same person without him - you highly doubt it.

the same, maybe. a lot sadder, yes, definitely.)

he pulls away from you, and you feel like you can breath again.

his eyes are still sparkling, little stars colliding here and there, his smile breathtaking -

all that you can think of is that you've already fallen too hard to get out, even if you wanted to.

~

you're happy.

that's kind of foreign to you now, isn't it?

the past seems to come in waves, little things striking your memory.

right now it's a picture of when you and youngjae had just met, his insistent need to take a selca overpassing your need to go and take a shower.

the photo is bent slightly at the corners from sitting in the photo album for so long, being looked over so often, being bypassed for other's to be added to the back of the book.

you smile softly, as the feelings of nostalgia hit you.

you know that it's only been about two years since this picture was taken. yet, for some reason, simply looking at the memories that you used to share make you want to burst out into tears.

happy or sad tears, you're not quite sure.

you're leaning more towards sad, at the moment.

you wish that things were still the same.

~

mark is still out.

your phone is off. you stopped caring after a while, and shut it down after not hearing anything from him for a couple of hours.

(now that's a lie, and you know it. the other member's do, too. you care too much. push away, push away. come on, you can manage that, right?)

you put the photo album away, rubbing your eyes firmly, determined to get the unshed tears out of your eyes sockets.

you figure that being with the other's will help you. you need them. they need you. no matter how tough things may get, and no matter how much all of you may yell at each other, everyone in the small family that you guys have managed still need each other.

pushing the door open, you stand in the hallway for a moment, looking into the mirror, running your hands through your hair. black again. natural. you're not sure if you like it much, anymore, if you're to be honest.

you then proceed to the kitchen, where bambam and jaebum are standing near the stove, talking, pouring unknown ingredients into the pot on the burner.

opening the refrigerator door seems to get their attention, as their conversation stops, jaebum's hands pausing from where he's cutting a spice on the counter.

you grab a water, and when they look back at you, the refrigerator door then shut, you can't help but feel like they're scrutinizing you.

the next thing you know you're pulled into a hug, both of them crowding around you, and you're about to ask where yugyeom is, or if youngjae got that game to start working that he took hours to set up, or oh, if jinyoung possibly got that -

you feel your reserve crumbling.

you miss the boys. your boys. you want them back.

so you pull them closer to you, bambam and jaebum, and you let yourself fall.

you feel their closeness, can feel their heartbeats on either side of your body. you let the tears cloud your vision, let them pour down your face in the mass that they need to.

if anyone hears the ringing of jaebum's phone on the counter, the contact name popping up 'mark' on the screen, no one mentions it.

for now it's just you, jaebum, and bambam, and that's all that you need.

you're tired of pretending to be okay.

you'll be okay.