BoyFriend

«39»

Jack grimaced worriedly. If he thought correctly, Mark hadn't eaten in at least a day. It was nearing one in the afternoon. The last Jack was aware he'd ate was around twelve. Before he'd picked Jack up. Before he got that stupid, new piercing. This definitely wasn't going to settle easily for Jack.

"Hey... Aren't you going to eat anything?"

Jack popped his head into the kitchen. It seemed to be where Mark decided to hang all day. Jack made the connection that pretty boy was probably starving, Mark's a serious eater. So trying to starve himself wasn't normal.

...At least Jack had clothes now. Well, a pair of black 'M' printed pant bottoms he borrowed every time he came to Mark's.

Mark shook his head, glancing from a novel in his hand to a paper he was scribbling on. Jack raised his eyebrows. He wouldn't think Mark would ever get started on his novel summary. Don't judge a book by its cover, he'd guessed.

"No... My tongue's still a little sensitive. I think the pain is just now starting to hit me."

"You don't think it's... Infected or whatever, do you?"

"No. It was done right. Don't worry. It just kind of stings and feels funny when I talk and hurts when I get anything around it."

"I don't know, but sounds to me you're being dramatic. You're such a baby."

Mark looked up, frowning. "What? I am not. Lemme stick a needle through your tongue."

"Why the fuck did you even get it?"

Mark silently looked over him, opening his mouth before closing it. He really didn't know. "To spite Louis, I guess. She was laughing that I was wanting too much."

"You are. You're gonna look crazy by the time you graduate."

Mark shrugged, "I won't disagree."

"Besides," Jack stepped over beside him, leaning over the island next to him, "that thing is coming out if you ever plan on as much as making out with me."

"What?" Mark put both his book and pen down. "That's not right. You don't know what it's like," he placed his hands on his hips, "you know what they say, Jack. Don't knock it 'till you try it."

"I'd rather knock it."

"You're lame."

"I'd rather be lame than some whore, dude." Mark rolled his eyes, sliding the stool he sat in out a bit when Jack sat himself on his lap, snatching the book from the fixture. "But I guess if being a whore is what it would take for you to love me, I can live with that."

Mark moved his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. "You could be anything you'd want to be. I'd still love your goofy, pathetic, not to mention great, ass."