100 Letters ; kpop oneshots

Moving On (mark, nct)

Mark Lee sighed heavily as he finally closed the last box, his eyes darting around the barren room that was once his safe space, his home, his comfort, his bedroom. He picked up the tape roller next to him and sealed the cardboard, the crinkly and sticky sound barely filtering through his occupied mind. His family was moving today. After 16 years in his hometown, Toronto, Canada, his father, who had been trying to find a new job to get a more steady income for them, got that new job in a city a country away: Seoul, South Korea. This resulted in months filled with packing peanuts, cardboard boxes, and cleaning out.

Mark didn't want to leave. Heck, his entire life up to this point lived here. His closest friends, the lovely neighbors, that stray cat that he always fed when it came around, and a community that he knows from the back of his hand. All of that was now about to be left in the dust of moving trucks and the family car as they would drive away to the airport, then fly into the unknown.

"Mark? Are you done packing?" The boy was snapped out of his thoughts as his mother's voice filtered through the door.

"Everything's in boxes, just gotta tape them up," Mark replied.

"Can I come in?" the woman then asked. Mark let out a hum in response, and the door opened.

"You should get some sleep, it's already ten pm," his mother said with concern, kneeling down next to her son. "Taping doesn't take long, you can do it tomorrow morning. You need rest for the drive tomorrow."

"It's fine, I can finish," Mark said, his voice flat. "I'll sleep in the car."

Suddenly, his mom hugged him, kissing his temple. "I know this move is hard for you, but be optimistic, okay? It's refreshing to go somewhere new."

Mark huffed. "Maybe."

He heard his mom sigh. "Fine then, but go to sleep soon, okay?" Mark nodded.

His mother smiled slightly, standing back up. With one last hug, Mark heard his mother retreat, leaving the boy to his own thoughts once again.

"Why do we have to leave?" Mark mumbled sadly to himself.

The boy stood up, picking up the box he had just sealed before stacking it alongside the other boxes along the wall in his room. He then turned around and surveyed the barren place, hands on his hips as he heaved out a breath.

"Well, no turning back now," he said with finality. His room was unrecognizable now. This was really happening and he couldn't stop it.

Mark walked over to the inflatable bed that now sat where his real bed previously stood (since it was now also packed up and shipped away to Korea) and collapsed onto it. He stared at the white ceiling. He should go to sleep and he knew that, but his whirling head wouldn't let him even feel sleepy in any way.

He turned to his side to face the wall, tracing random shapes on the smooth surface in an attempt to bore his mind. When that ceased to fail, he turned on his other side. That's when he noticed an untaped box in the corner, seemingly half empty. With a quizzical look, he sat up and made his way to it. Upon glancing inside, his mind wanted him to turn right back around and to his bed, but his body instead kneeled down to the box and opened it fully.

There were only a handful of items, all of them dusty and old in some way.

Mark unknowingly smiled, nostalgia beginning to enter his senses as he took the first item: a rainbow beaded bracelet with a small smiley charm. The string was frayed and some beads were cracked, but he had made this bracelet when he was nine years old with his best friend, Johnny, who is still his best friend up to this day, feeling both like a partner and an older brother. It was a birthday present from the older, and a few days after the party, Mark invited him over and they made matching bracelets, with Johnny's having a cloud charm. Mark knew that Johnny no longer had the bracelet, as he broke it a few years after when they had a pillow fight (there are still unfound beads in the room to this day), yet Mark had never had the guts to throw it out, even in its beaten state. Mark fiddled with the object for a few more minutes before putting it back and taking out the next thing.

His finger trailed along this next item: a purple cardboard picture frame with a photo of him around second grade, alongside a girl, his first-ever female friend, Aria. He turned the frame over, frowning as he found that the stand was almost ripped off. He wasn't surprised, though. After all, the thing was made of cardboard. He flipped it back over, smiling at the photo. Aria and Mark were very tight-knit throughout their early elementary years. However, her neighborhood got rezoned after fourth grade, separating the two without any way of staying in touch. And when they were reunited in middle school, they each had new friends, new cliques, and were basically nothing more than simple acquaintances. Though they still talked and laughed, they weren't as close as they once were, and eventually, they drifted away. A sigh left Mark's mouth as he put the frame away.

The next item was a silk fan with a floral pattern in varying shades of lavender. The cloth was frayed with holes and one of the arms of the fan was snapped in half, yet the cloth still felt as smooth as Mark remembered. In sixth grade, a new student entered his math class. His name was Jaemin, and he was a transfer student from South Korea who was still learning English. He was put next to Mark because it was common knowledge that they were both Korean by blood, and throughout the whole year, Mark helped the boy with his assignments. Sure, there were several misunderstandings and mishaps due to their language barrier since Mark's Korean was very basic (like that one time Mark accidentally tossed the boy's basic alphabet book, thinking it wasn't his), but that created a strangely close bond. They always worked on projects together and hung out when they had free time. As Jaemin was much better at writing than speaking, they texted a lot through their parents' phones. Sadly, after middle school, Jaemin eventually found his own friends and the two drifted, but Mark was left with a parting gift: a traditional Korean fan in his favorite shades of blue, given to him on the last day of school before high school. Mark at first rejected it, but Jaemin said he had too many at home, anyway, so Mark eventually took it. It was funny, really, that Mark was now going to Jaemin's birthplace. Maybe he should try and reach out. He's pretty sure that he still has Jaemin's number somewhere on his phone. Pulling out of his memories, the boy spread the fan out, holding onto the detached edge as he fanned herself a bit. He coughed as dust filled the air, putting the fan back in the box as he cleared his airways.

There were so many other items that sparked joy in him as he went through them. The old clock radio that he used before smart speakers became a thing. His first pair of headphones that now had its neon orange exterior peeling away. A handful of chipped guitar picks in various colors. His old colored pencil set, the sticks reduced to unusable knubs from excessive sharpening. His old locker shelf and magnets that he had in middle school before he found out that high school doesn't do lockers. Even a few small plushies when he was a toddler. Nostalgia mixed with the dust made tears prick at his eyes as he realized how much has happened in this house, in the place he lived. Yet he was moving tomorrow, to a new place with unknown people and unknown possibilities. The tears were beginning to make him register how tired he was, so he wistfully closed the box and went to his bed, his eyes shutting the second his head hit the pillow. His dreams were filled with old memories and a longing to stay.

The next morning, Mark was helping to move boxes out into the hallway for the moving truck guys to put into the truck, as well as bags to put into the car for the drive ahead. The boxes would be shipped to their place in Korea and arrive in a week or so, hopefully. Mark heaved all the boxes out, wiping his sweaty forehead with a huff. He looked around his empty room one last time, almost finished. All that was left was that box from last night. With a bittersweet smile, he picked up the box, and instead of leaving it out to be loaded, he took it outside the house to the curb. He placed it alongside the rest of the stuff that was to be picked up by the garbage truck. Before leaving, he took each item out one at a time, using his new polaroid camera to take a picture of each object on the grass. Satisfied with a pocketful of photos he would hang later, he turned around and didn't look back. He climbed into the family car and they were off to the airport. To their new home.