Head Down

◤two ◢

Mark scoffs.

Of course they would do something like this. It didn't surprise him, even though to anyone else, it should've. He's used to this by now, used to this bullshit. There isn't much he can change about how his parent's minds work, so he stopped trying all together a while ago.

But that doesn't lessen the sting. Mark is still just eighteen, not even legal, and so, so inexperienced to be living... Here. And yeah, even if his parents weren't much, they were better at adapting than he was. He resorted to them the past few weeks, and he couldn't do that if they weren't around. He'd have to figure things out on his own. He'd have to learn how to live somewhere like this.

It's not even comical how much he despises living here. It's just... Way too different. Way too different for comfort. He doesn't like the downsize, big cities are where Mark thrives, where Mark peaks. But this wasn't helping him, this little area of land wasn't helping anything.

"Have fun I guess," Mark says sarcastically, a bit more bite in his tone than he intended. It didn't matter anymore, he didn't regret it. It's not like he can do anything to change their minds, and it's not like they care about leaving him alone here. It's just that it wasn't his preference, but when has someone ever taken his preferences into account? He's used to it now anyways, he shouldn't be causing such a fuss.

"Mark—" His mother starts, but the boy is already walking up the stairs, fists clenched at his sides. He knows that in a few hours he'd calm down, go back to being empty and void of anything related to feelings, but for now, he'd put on a little show. It's the last one his parents would get to see in a while anyways.

Once he's in his room, Mark slams the door shut and flops down onto his bed. He stares at the ceiling and wonders what it's like to not see a city that never sleeps when he can't sleep. Lights that never dim, cars that never stop and restaurants that never close. He's going to miss those so much.

He loathes his parents for that. Loathes them for getting to go back to the city.

Seoul they had said. They're leaving him here, in this ghost town, to live his dream. To live in his dream. They ripped him out of his comfort zone, threw him into new territory and are now leaving him to fend for himself. They don't even treat him like he's human.

Mark is sure, nothing, absolutely nothing can make him enjoy living here, alone, in this horrendous, awful, godforsaken ghost town.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning, they're already gone. No good morning, no be safe, no breakfast, just a stupid little, pathetic note on the fridge that says they've left.

Not that Mark would miss them anyways. But a notice would've been appreciated.

Already in a bad mood, he makes his way down the hall and into the bathroom, rinsing off quick and brushing his teeth. He decides to leave his hair as is, nothing can fix it, before heading downstairs. It's eerily quiet in the house since he's here alone, but he assumes that he'll get used to it with time. If there's one thing he learned in his lifetime, the whole eighteen years he's been living on this planet, it's that he can get used to anything, given time.

Breakfast is a bore for him because he's incapable of preparing anything that isn't cereal and milk. He once attempted oatmeal, since it seemed straightforward enough, but he ended up burning his breakfast instead. He himself doesn't understand how that happened, but it is what it is, and he would really rather not trying to cook when he's home alone.

After breakfast, Mark realizes he has nothing to do. Staying inside all day, he'd rather not. At a certain age, that appealed to him most, but this little home was suffocating without the presence of others, surprisingly. Going outside? He'd have to interact with other people if he wanted to do that. Not that he was the introvert type, because he truly never considered himself an introvert, but the thought of communicating and getting to know the people... Here, just didn't appeal to him at all.

But he's bored, he's lonely, and he's foreign, so what else could he do?

Defeated, Mark trudges back up into his room and changes into some more socially acceptable clothes; basketball shorts and a hoodie. It's August anyways, and the weather is pretty warm. School is only two weeks away, and at least his parents have already enrolled him into the only high school here. He's glad that they had at least that much audacity. He doesn't even want to think about starting over in his senior year more than he has to. It's nightmarish for him, to make new friends and to settle into a new place just for a year. You couldn't get too attached to anything, you'd be gone in ten months. Not that Mark would ever get attached to anything here, it was just the logic.

Stepping outside for the first time in two days, Mark admits that it does feel nice. The air in his face and the bright sunlight was heated, but it was comfortable. The street he lives on is cute, as someone would describe. He knows that there's an ice cream shop ten minutes from here, and a burger place fifteen minutes from here. But he isn't in the mood to eat anything, he just had breakfast.

The only other thing he could do is walk around, skillfully avoid people, and somehow find his way back home. Actually, the last point didn't matter too much, it wasn't like he had anyone or anything waiting for him at home.

Heading left instead of right, Mark shoves his hands into his pockets, puts his earbuds in, shuffles his music and ignores everything else. If he gets stares, which he undoubtedly does, he ignores them. If people whisper things around him, which they naturally do, he can't hear them.

He could do this, get through the gruesome year he's supposed to spend here, just like this. Quiet and minding his own business. If he doesn't butt into anyone else's lives, no one is going to butt into his.

If only it was that easy.