17. Right under your nose

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Yuta groans, feeling pissed as he chucks another half-finished wooden character onto his desk. He was so angry, he let himself be distracted. He almost began to... like Mark. Like not like as in 'oh you're cool' sort of like but... romantically... there's no way that's possible. Mark has one purpose in Yuta's life... and that's to be used.

Nothing else.

Yuta stands up and sighs, he felt like paying someone a visit.

He makes his way out of his room, making sure Mark was still out cold before he left. He makes his way down the stairs and into the kitchen grabbing his almost empty bottle of wine and bringing it with him outside. He opens the rickety wooden door and makes his way down into the basement. It was the season that it began to become cold. December time. The date was the... 16th? he couldn't remember, so much time had flown past him in the time he'd been distracted by Mark.

He opens the metal door and stops.

"Still hanging on, eh? how cute," He chuckles as he kicks the door shut with his leg.

-----

"Oh god, how long was I out?" Mark mutters, sitting up and seeing the sun had already risen. He looks around and sees the character on the table. He goes to pick up but jumps back as he hears the bedroom door open.

"Morning darling, sleep well?" He smiles and Mark nods. "You slept like a log last night, it was nice to see you sleep so well, I hope you're feeling very replenished," Yuta says and Mark nods again. "I think it was needed," He says.

"Breakfast?" Yuta asks. "Sure... what are we having?" He asks. "I shall make... toasties, how's that?" He asks and Mark nods. "That's fine, I'm alright with that," He says with a small smile. "Great, head in the shower, I won't be too long," He says. "If you need any clothes, just grab some of mine, we're about the same size anyway and there's already towels in there," He says before leaving the room without another word.

What was up with him? he'd changed, they'd become distant. He talked to Mark like a roommate not like a partner, not like someone he was supposedly in love with. It upset Mark to hear the almost awkward tone in his voice like the two had only met once before, all the memories they had shared... remember Mark, he's a psychopath...

Mark heads into the bathroom and looks around, taking in the details of the bathroom from the wall colour to the grouts in between each tile to the texture of the flooring. The entire place was pleasing to the eye, there was nothing you could criticise about Yuta's house except your own standards. This man and his house were beyond perfection. Abnormal. There has to be a visible flaw but Mark couldn't find one.

He undressed and turns the shower on, letting the water warm up as he took the last of his clothes off. He steps in and sighs feeling the warmth on his back, it felt so good. Like a massage after a long day at work. He takes a deep breath and lets his head fall back and to the side letting the water run over his neck. The feeling brought back memories of the oddly many intimate moments he shared with Yuta. He opens his eyes and sighs, the moment had been ruined. He couldn't relax anymore without Yuta, he had begun to hate it. He just wanted to feel independent again but he couldn't do anything without Yuta watching him from every angle without him even knowing.

Maybe the two were beginning to become distant.

Finally, after some time, Mark turns the shower off, wrapping the towel around his waist and making his way to the bedroom to get dressed. He enters the bedroom and jumps as he sees Yuta writing at his desk. Yuta stops and stares for a few moments.

"D-dude stop staring," Mark says trying to cover his chest with his arms. "Ah sorry," Yuta says turning back around and beginning to write again. "Is there anything in your clothes that you don't want me to wear?" Mark asks and Yuta shakes his head. "Wear anything, I'm not bothered but if it's something white please be careful to not stain it," Yuta says without looking up and Mark nods, opening up the wardrobe. He looks through the clothes and sighs. Yuta's clothes were in a variety of styles, all which he would imagine suited Yuta. He shrugs, grabbing an oversized top and some shorts before going to leave to the bathroom.

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