2. Sigh it into , wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don’t even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.

⇔

“You don’t have to do this.” Jackson’s voice was empty, and lacked the sort of conviction and guilt that you would expect from your boyfriend if he cheated on you.
Mark’s determination didn’t falter one bit; he slammed the maroon suitcase onto the bed, flung it open, and began to toss random articles of clothing into it, all while Jackson leaned against the doorway watching helplessly.
The couple had, for a while, been going through what Mark described as a “rough patch.” Of course, Mark was alone in that feeling.
But… Jackson was just being Jackson, he thought; oblivious, blissfully ignorant, and a little bit selfish.
“They’re called EXES for a reason, babe. I dumped him for a reason, it’s over between us.” It was the same old trope, and definitely not the first time they’d had this conversation. Mark was starting to really get sick of it.
Although they’d only been dating a few months, Jackson used the “L” word a number of times with Mark; at first it was confusing, because Mark had never been in love before, he wasn’t sure what it was, what it felt like, and when he’d even know if he was actually in love.
“I haven’t even talked to BamBam in weeks, I swear.” Jackson was groaning by this point, becoming inpatient himself as he watched Mark stuff his laptop and a few pairs of socks into the suitcase.
Mark wasn’t an idiot - sure they were broken up, and sure he claimed he hadn’t spoken with his ex in ‘weeks’ - Mark knew the truth.
It was the way that Jacskson spoke of him: under all of the disdain, and underneath the anger and regret, there was a hint of pride.
“Just the fact that you even call him that tells me you’re not over him.” Mark finally spoke, and it was partially under his breath, and his eyes never met Jackson’s. “You’re the only person who calls him that. His name’s Kunpimook, everyone knows BamBam was the name you gave him after your first date.”
Jackson sighed and tossed his head back, defeated. Mark had hit a soft spot.
“Fine. Whatever.” Jackson conceded, leaving the room to give Mark space.
It was possibly the worst thing that Jackson could have said, to not argue back, to not fight for him to stay. Even if it wasn’t helping, and wouldn’t stop Mark, it was important to Mark to know he cared enough to.
Now, in the absence of Jackson, the weight of Mark’s decision to break up was starting to sink into his skin, and invade his eyes. Tears began to form slowly, wetting his eyelashes, Mark blinked a few times quickly to try and stifle them, but it was useless.
With a lump in his throat, eyes red and puffed, Mark wheeled the small suitcase from the room and into the hallway where Jackson was si