Kleptomania
Noun, psychology

1. An irresistible impulse to steal, stemming from emotional disturbance rather than economic need.
    

It was a cold, chilly night in Seoul and there he was, walking down the street looking for the perfect house. He wished he planned it more deeply. If he planned it, he would already know what house to go to but now he just...walked out without really thinking. It had become a habit to break into people's houses quietly and grab a few things. He couldn't explain why. He had done researched about it and what he found out had been disturbing to him. He wasn't mentally ill, no. He couldn't be. He continuously tried to convince himself that he did it for the money when in reality he didn't know why he did what he did. He just always felt the urge to steal. When the guilt of stealing someone else's things got too much, he sold the items and then it all got repeated again. He tried to always get expensive things so he could get more money so he later could cope with the anxiety after stealing.
It was a simple way to gain money he also didn't need. But it was risky. Not at all checking if the people living in the houses were awake or at home could lead to him getting captured and put behind bars. Mark couldn't tell why or when he had gotten so impulsive. But he definitely couldn't stop it.

While searching for a house, he caught sight of a wealthy looking one-storey house, almost at the end of the road that later got separated into left and right. There was no car outside, so it was either in the garage or the people the house belong to weren't home. Hoping for the later, he went even closer, looking around for an opening of some kind. Mark had to praise himself for being very quiet and skilled when it came to breaking in and unlocking doors with tools other than keys. As he picked up a bobby pin to unlock the door, he noticed a window to what he supposed was a basement and it was open. Just barely but it was open. He lowered himself and crawled towards it. He carefully gripped the frame and pulled it towards himself, the window opening even more. He was lucky to be as slim and lean as he was, he could perfectly fit in the opening without having to struggle to get in. The distance between the floor inside and the window wasn't that much, it was pretty much Mark's height and he didn't make a lot of noise when landing. He sighed. Time to get everything done. He looked around the room for something valuable. From the looks of it, the basement was a bedroom and who ever lived in the room had a keen interest in music and arts. Mark actually liked the room. It was cozy and had a warm feeling attached to it. He guessed it was the walls fault, seeing they were a soft shade of blue. It wasn't too dark and not too light. It was just right. He sat down on the bed he found, still looking for something that could sell. He hoped to find some jewelry or maybe an instrument. From the looks of it he wouldn't find it in this room, maybe stealing from what looked like a teenage room wasn't the best idea.
As he was about to stand up again he felt someone's arms wrap around his waist. His heart stopped beating and his breathing got caught in his throat. The arms around him tightened and a low mumbling followed. He couldn't even make out what the person hugging his waist said, whether it was from being too unclear or Mark's heart beating loudly. When the room fell silent again, only soft snores filling the air, Mark weighed his options. He could either go back the way he came from, or he would go up the stairs on the other side of the room, not even knowing if someone else was home or awake. He could also stay in the house until the person woke up but he felt like that was the worst thing he could possibly do. Looking at the window he felt like that was a stupid option as well. He might be able to get out but there will probably be a lot of noise. He looked at the stairs. They weren't made of tree, which was a blessing. He could walk up them without being noticed. If he successfully got there he could probably both get out and bring something with him. Yes. He should go for that.
Slowly untangling himself from the stranger, who's house he's in, he broke free and made his way towards the stairs. He turned back to look at the stranger but couldn't make out more than the silhouette. Turning back, Mark took off up the stairs and quietly opened the door connecting the basement to the rest of the house, silently thanking whatever's up in the heaven for letting the door be quiet. The rest of the house was no different than the basement. Mark checked all doors and from the looks of it, the person underneath him was the only one home. He entered one of the two bedrooms and found nothing he could use. There wasn't anything in the second one either. Taking a quick look in the living room and the kitchen, he decided that this had been a waste of time. The house looked way more expensive than anything inside. He headed for the door and when he unlocked it and opened it, a hand reached out and slammed the door shut. The hand was a few milimeters away from Mark's face and the lights .
"Who are you?"
A husky voice spoke from behind him. Mark didn't dare to turn around. Answering didn't feel right either.
"Why are you here?"
When Mark didn't reply, the hand moved from the door and to Mark's shoulder, grabbing to turn Mark around. What Mark was faced with was beyond what he expected. The man before him looked nothing like Mark had expected. Mark expected him to look extremely angry and threatening but the guy had a plain expression, with a hinted smirk dragging the corners of his mouth. What did he have to smirk about?
"How did you get in here?"
Mark didn't answer. This time he was sure it was because he was taken aback by this guy. The guy before him was handsome, no, way more than handsome. Words couldn't possibly describe it. His hair was dyed blonde and was absolute chaos after just waking up, he had a strong but not too sharp jaw and cheekbones matching the size of the jaw perfectly. His eyes were not even to talk about. Even though he was tired, his eyes were what caught Mark's attention the most, the stranger's eyes held a certain deep Mark couldn't describe. Mark felt attracted to the way all facial features fit together perfectly.
"Are you done admiring my face and ready to answer my questions?"
Mark was thankful he was wearing the mask he was wearing, there's no way he wanted the stranger to see his red cheeks.
"I'm going to ask one more time, who are you?"
"I-I'm..."
"You are?"
"Just call the cops, dammit!", Mark ended up screaming in his face. The stranger raised an eyebrow.
"From what I can see you haven't taken anything."
"I broke into your house."
"Still didn't steal anything."
"I would have if you had something valuable.", Mark muttered, expecting the stranger to get mad. Much to his surprise, the stranger laughed. If Mark thought he was handsome with his plain expression and slight smirk, the stranger's smile must've been perfection. The way crinkles appeared by his eyes, the way his perfectly straight teeth shone. It was beyond what Mark had witnessed. What was happening to him?
"What a funny guy you are. Still I'd like to know who you are. Say like this, I'm not telling anyone if I can know who the hell you are. Deal?"
"Deal...?", Mark felt unsure. "I don't even know what to say."
"Okay, like this. Hi, my name is Jackson, what's your name? Clear enough?", the guy, 'Jackson' said.
"Mark."
"I'm guessing your not from here?"
"I wasn't born here. But I've lived here for years."
"Then where are you from?"
Mark didn't answer. Such an irrelevant question!
"Why do you need that?"
"No reason, just curious. So why are you in my house?"
"I...I planned on finding something, I suppose?"
"For what cause?"
"Money, what else?"
Mark was getting impatiant. For some reason he would much rather get arrested than answer all of these questions.
"How did you get in here?"
"Your freaking window was open."
"So, Mark, why did you plan to steal something?"
Mark leaned back and let his head hit the wall.
"Tough question?"
"Just call the cops already."
"I already told you, I won't."
"Then hit me, stab me, kill me and sell me somewhere, I don't care."
"How come you rather go through that than answer my questions?", Mark didn't reply and faced the floor. "Is it because you're ashamed of what you're doing? Or maybe because you're unsure yourself?"
Mark's head snapped up. He felt his blood boil. How dared this guy question him like that?
"Oh, I'm sorry, did my words hurt you princess?"
Mark officially wanted to strangle this 'Jackson'-guy. How dare he be so attractive and annoying? Jackson's hand, that hadn't left Mark's shoulder, moved towards Mark's mask. Mark panicked. There was no way he was letting this happen. He flinched back enough to bang into the wall much harder than before.
"Ouch, calm down!", Jackson said. "I just want to see the rest of your face."
"No!", Mark raised his voice.
"I just wanted to know why you're stealing. Maybe it was for some accident or something. I just want to know, geez."
"It's not so stop asking."
A hand on his neck sent chills down Mark's spine. He couldn't move. The touch was so gentle and Jackson's eyes were so captivating. Before Mark could say something, the beanie on his head was snatched away, exposing Mark's red hair.
"H-hey!"
"What a nice color your hair has!"
"Give it back!"
"Why would you cover that hair! I never see people with such hair color!"
Mark made an attempt to get his beanie back but Jackson threw it into the living room. Mark pulled his arms back, crossing them as he let them rest on his lower back. He usually experienced back pain and having his hands preventing his back from being across the wall helped.
"Why are you doing this?"
"I don't know to be honest. I should be sleeping. But you're entertaining. I'm curious though, I'd like to know what your face looks like."
"Stop!", Mark shouted as Jackson's hand traveled to pull Mark's mask down.
"If I ask nicely? Will you pull it down?"
"No!"
"Come on! You have such pretty eyes, I want to see what the rest of your face looks with them!"
Mark froze and stared wide-eyed at Jackson. Jackson smiled softly.
"You don't hear that very often do you?"
Mark didn't reply. It was true though. People never payed any attention to him. Maybe that was why he felt so anxious about having someone's full attention.
Jackson's hand cupped his cheek. His other hand wandered across Mark's side and Mark was about to wrap his arms around Jackson when Jackson's hands forcefully grabbed both of his hands. Mark didn't only curse Jackson but also himself for resting his hands like he did. Before he could think of what was happening, his mask was pulled down and Mark closed his eyes. Suddenly Jackson's body wasn't pressed against his own anymore.
"Mark? Would you please open your eyes?"
Mark wasn't sure what made him do it but he did. He opened his eyes and faced a surprised Jackson.
"You're really handsome!"
"Can I have my mask back?"
"Nope. You shouldn't cover a face like that."
"What is wrong with you?", Mark asked, feeling unsure with what the situation had turned into.
"What?", for the first time that night, Jackson looked genuinely confused.
"I broke into your house in the middle of the night, looked for something to steal and now you're flirting with me. What is wrong with you?"
"I just believe you have a reason to steal. And you can't deny your looks."
"You wouldn't understand."
"I certainly won't understand if I don't know what's wrong. Tell me."
"Why should I? I don't know you and it takes like forever to explain."
Jackson disappeared into the kitchen and Mark felt ready to leave. Not caring about his beanie and mask anymore, he opened the door. As he was about to finally walk out, Jackson came back and handed him a note.
"This is my number. Call or text whenever you want, if you want. Your choice. It would be nice if you did."
To say Mark was shocked was an understatement. This guy must be ill or something.
"If you don't mind, I'm going back to bed. Got school tomorrow, you know?"
Mark picked up his phone to check the time. 3 am. He should be sleeping as well.
"The least you can do after breaking into my house is to call me and let me get to know you."
"The least I can do is nothing at all.", Mark mumbled. Jackson laughed.
"You're funny."
Mark made his way out, feeling the fresh night air fill his lungs. As he stepped forward to get home he felt someone put on his beanie again.
"Don't get sick. That would be a waste. Now get some rest, you look like death."
Mark unconsciously smiled and walked home.

To say the night had been strange was not true. Crazy described it better and it wasn't even enough. Mark didn't understand Jackson at all, maybe he wasn't meant to. One thing was for sure, he wanted to get to know this odd guy.