Friend-Zoned

[60]

More shit cause I'm awake and sad

...

Mark actually hadn't left when Jack took off. Instead, he went straight to his room and piled up on his messy bed. Jack moved a lot in his sleep, ironically. He's always moving. He shouldn't have been expected to ever stay still.

Mark groaned, slinging an arm over his eyes, not acknowledging the golden pup nudging him with her nose. She was hungry, and she wanted her food now.

Mark had other plans.

Mark had plans on thinking just why he had actually been so close to Jack lately.

He even had begun to pay attention to detail, soaking in every little thing about Jack.

He had stunning eyes. A pair of baby blues he could easily stare at all day. And, honestly, he wouldn't really mind them being the first thing he saw each and every morning for the rest of his miserable life either. They were always bright and happy, so filled with love and joy. For everything. But the love was just reserved for Mark.

Jack had the purest and best smile. It was flashy, contagious. His smile was so wide and sincere. Jack had nearly never forced a smile. Other than the time he was questioning Mark about Amy back when the raven haired boy first met him. His smile was fake, as if he had been hurt over something. Mark pretended he hadn't known. He acted like he hadn't noticed how clingy Jack was and how uncomfortable he was around Amy. Even Aaron. But Mark knew the difference between his false, dull smile and his huge, shining smile.

Jack had extremely soft hair. It was even occasionally fluffy, making it a nearly perfect pillow. Mark could run his fingers through the dark green strands all day. He could get used to the strawberry mango shampoo smell wafting into his nose every night. Mark thought he had nice, poofy hair. Jack's hair was goals. It was soft, fluffy, and perfect.

Then his figure. There was so many pros to Jack's shape in Mark's eyes. For starters, he's the best cuddle buddy. Jack's curvy but still masculine figure made it easy for Mark to just wrap his arms around the Irishman and keep him close. He was a perfect little spoon. And Mark knew Jack absolutely adored when Mark huddled up to him. Jack craved it. And this he knew. The Irish also was just the right size and height to be lifted up on Mark's back, which Jack would do if he got bored of long walks. He'd even sometimes doze off with his cheek pressed against the top of Mark's head, letting out open mouthed snores. Mark also used his body as an advantage of picking him up like a stuffed animal. To Mark, picking up his little companion was liking lifting a feather. Light and delicate. Something everyone loved, but was more important to one person than he was the next. Jack was Mark's special little feather.

Then there was the sexual pro of Jack's body, such as how well Mark's hands fit everywhere perfectly and how his shape was ideal to hold and how incredibly flexible he was. He was so curvy and bendy during anything intimate that Mark found it hot, to be honest. And dear god after Mark touched him once, he lusted for more. And whenever and wherever he wanted it, he was certain Jack would willingly give it. Such as when Jack got his little problem that Mark helped him fix in a Starbucks restroom. Without going too into detail, Mark was simply aroused by how Jack desperately tried to keep quiet and how his body jerked, arched, moved, and rolled with just the flick of a wrist.

But now that he thought about it... Mark began to realize something. And he would be in deep shit later for it. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't and never would. It hurt like hell knowing his diagnoses was exactly what he'd dreadfully expected.

Mark began to realize he might be falling in love with that weirdo.

And it absolutely fucking terrified him.