The Time Taken to Understand (BoyxBoy)

Chapter One ~ Mark

A/N~ So this is it. This is the book that I've been trying to write for the past five years of my life. It's more for me that it is for anyone else, and this journey has been a hell of a ride, but I'm very happy that I get to share this with whoever it is out there reading it. I hope it makes you as happy as it made me.

Also, while writing the later parts of this story I realized that I incorrectly use comas all over the place, and I will go back and fix that, at some point, so I'm really sorry if it's annoying.

A/N (quite a while later) I really think this book is poorly written and the story is sloppy, so I encourage people not to read it. It was the first thing I had ever written longer than a short story and in not opinion, it's quite obvious. Read at your own risk.

Mark was awoken by a short blonde lady clinging onto his chest and sobbing. No. That wasn't right. Mark was awoken by the impact of the short blond lady throwing herself against his sleeping form. It was when he came to his senses that he realized she was crying, quite heavily, and her tears were seeping through his navy sleep shirt. He could only mumble comforting words to her, patting her back lightly as his body slowly adjusted to being awake. "Mom. Mom, it's okay. Why are you crying?"

"My- my ba-bbbb-" another pained sound escaped her lips and she clutched onto him even tighter. He blinked his eyes into focus. Over the top of his mother's head he could see one of his sisters in the doorway, grinning evilly, and his father pushing her out of the way to get to their mother.

Mark smiled kindly at his father as he gently pulled his mom back, making soothing noises as he transferred her to his own chest. "It'll be okay, Pam".

With his moment of freedom, Mark sat up in his bed and looked down at his tear stained shirt. "But- but he's leaving us!" His mother continued to sob and he rolled his eyes. He was going to college, not dying.

"Mom," he began, and she turned her face against his father's chest to look at him. "You're going to be fine. I'm going to leave-" she hiccuped, "but I think you'll be surprised to find that you'll be just as busy as you were before with the twins". She blinked at him, and then slapped his arm.

"You're going to call me every night and tell me how you day was," she said. Her crying had stopped but she was still sniffling heavily. Mark looked at his father, who seemed very pleased with him and nodded.

"Of course, mom". She obviously had thought he would argue, because she drew a sharp breath as if she was about to snap at him, but then stopped, realizing what he had said. Her mouth made an 'o' as she searched for something to yell at him for.

"And right when you get there!" She demanded, and Mark, as he often did when speaking with his mother, sighed

"Mom. I'll call you every single time we stop for gas, or to use the bathroom, or to eat. How's that?" Her powder blue eyes, that were so much like his own, blinked in surprise before narrowing.

"That's way too much, Mark. I don't even talk to you that much now". With that, she detached herself from her husband and left the room with them both looking after her.

"How does it feel to be married to a crazy woman?" Mark asked his father, averting his attention to him. When he looked at his father, it was almost like looking in a mirror; a mirror that could age a person twenty years, but a mirror still. They had the same face shape and skin tone and eye shape, the same dirty blonde hair that curled in the same way. They were practically the same person, or they would be if it weren't for his father's deep green eyes, that were so different from his own blue ones that some people even said that- because of that one little difference- they actually looked nothing alike.