𝗚𝗢𝗧𝟳 𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 𝟮

surgery ; mark

'I'm going to be fine, Mark,' you soothed him, taking his hand in yours, wincing slightly at the IV drip that was inserted into the back of your hand. 'It's just a small surgery, tons of people have done it,' you reassured him the best way you could, as he continued too look at you with pure concern in his eyes.

'We're going to have to wheel her in now,' a nurse popped in, clipboard in hand, her hair in a stern no-nonsense bun as she nodded at Mark, who seemed content with planting his feet here if that meant that you wouldn't have to be sent into the operating theatre.

'I'm not sure about this (Y/N), are you really sure?" he asked, this time resorting to pacing around the room.

'Yes,' you repeated for the 100th time. 'You make it look like you're the one that's going through the operation,' you teased him feebly.

'I'm sorry Miss, but we really need to get you into the operating room,' the same nurse came in with a few others as Mark was finally forced to let go of your hand but that didn't stop him from following you all the way to the doors.

'I'll see you soon,' he muttered, pressing a kiss on your forehead, and he waved a little before seeing you through the doors.

3 Hours Later

Groaning, you lifted your groggy head, feeling as if someone had thrown an anvil on top of your head. Blinking away the anesthesia, your tongue felt thick and numb and the words you wanted to say just didn't come out right. Swallowing, you winced, your throat still hurt from the surgery. Removing your tonsils had been on your mind ever since you had complications with it when you were 12, but your parents had been against it, constantly worrying if the procedure was safe enough. Fortunately, now that you were an adult you were finally able to get rid of them... not your parents, your tonsils.

'Hey, hey,' Mark rushed to your side, taking your hand in his again and it was a relief to feel something warm and comforting. 'You're okay, you're okay,' he whispered under his breath.

'Of course I'm okay dummy... don't you trust me?" you croaked, attempting to lighten the situation but even talking seemed to hurt.

'What do you need? Water? Or?' Mark asked, looking around for anything that might possibly help to get you more comfortable.

'I'm fine,' you said in a hoarse voice, cringing as it scraped against your raw throat.

'She really shouldn't be talking,' your ENT suddenly appeared by the doorway, hands deep in her pockets.

'Hi (Y/N),' she smiled warmly. She had been your ENT since you had begun to fall sick due to your tonsillitis. 'Finally glad that you got those out huh?" she chuckled knowing the ongoing war between your parents and you regarding your removal of your tonsils.

'Ugh yes,' you groaned, as she whacked you lightly with the pen torchlight she carried around with her.

'No talking missy unless you want an infection in that throat,' she scolded you.

'Is that likely?' Mark suddenly butted in, eager to find out about your condition.

'Well,' she frowned as she took a quick check at your throat. 'Hmmm, a bit red and on the swollen side but that should come down in a few days, I'll keep an eye on it,' she clicked off the flashlight, putting it back in her coat pocket with a small smile.

Bending down, she feigned checking your saline drip but she placed her lips near your ears whispering:

'That boy of yours must really love you, he hasn't stopped badgering me, constantly asking me when you would be awake, he's been sitting here for 2 hours waiting for you to come back around,'