Call My Name | GOT7 imagines

mt¹ | masculinity

You remembered when Mark first asked you out. You were beyond excited and nothing else really made you feel as bubbly inside as when you were with him, but lately you've been feeling insecure about your relationship. His attention wasn't on you anymore. He'd come home late from the gym, tired out and would just hit the bed. When you woke up he'd be gone, off to work in the studio, and with the few texts you've exchanged, his replies were getting shorter and shorter.

The tears that welled your eyes, blurred what used to be affectionate words on a page but now they were just the artifact of an old love. This was the confession letter shy dorky Mark wrote to you asking you to prom which led to him asking you to be his girlfriend two months later.

With a lot of questions in your mind, you waited for Mark even as the time passed into ungodly hours of the night, and eventually into the morning, in hopes that he'd shed light onto the situation. Your eyes felt heavy from fatigue and strained against the headlights that glared into the house. He came through the front door, looking at you with eyes that held a drained expression and the dark bags under his told you that he was anything but relieved to see you sitting on the couch of your living room with bloodshot eyes and tissues lying at your feet.

"I'm going to bed." He excused, already walking up the staircase and when you called for him, he ignored you. You got up to follow him and sat on the corner of the bed as he stripped himself of his work clothes before he lay down. "Mark, we really need to talk." You urged, sniffling and wiping your eyes. He sighed and the bed waved as he came to sit behind you, trapping you between his legs and his chest against your back as his arms wrapped around your torso. You held onto his arms and cried. The way his chest moved when he breathed, the way his arms around you made you feel safe, and the way his touch felt had become foreign to you for so long that your chest pained to think of how months you had gone without it.

"Do you still love me?" You questioned as his long fingers drew patterns on your forearms as he continued to hold you. "There's no doubt in my mind about the way I feel about you, y/n. I'm sorry that I've made you feel that I have. Work has just been hectic with the comeback around the corner and it's got me stressed out," he pursed his lips in a slight pause. "I've also been feeling insecure about a lot of things. I noticed how I hadn't been paying attention to you. How I wasn't being the man you deserved so I started hitting the gym, hoping that'd somehow make up for it. Now that I say it out loud it sounds really stupid and I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to lose you over some stupid insecurities."

Silence filled the room. Your mind travelled in many directions as you took in what he just said. "So you don't hate me?" You turned around to face him this time, hoping to see that loving gaze he always used to have when he looked at you.

"Hate you? Y/n, the way I feel about you is far opposite from hate. I love you. I don't say that enough and I'm sorry. I'm ashamed of how I've neglected you and this relationship. I'm ashamed that I let the comments of social media comments get to me-"

"What social media comments?" Your heart picked up in concern, ready to pummel anyone who had something bad to say about him. "It's nothing." He muttered.

Everything was starting to make sense now. The pressure from work stressed him out, then the negative comments started to get to him. He pulled away because he wasn't good enough to be with you and so he tried to compensate for his lack of masculinity by bulking up.

You immediately wrapped your arms around him, straddling him, and he cried. You cried with him. Even when the dawn came the next morning, you didn't let him go.

"I'm always going to be here Mark. You've never not been good enough for me. If I wanted something else I wouldn't have waited for you to come home every night or texted you about how worried I was. You aren't any less of a man just because you don't have muscles popping out. Your gentle manners and overflow of love is what makes you more of a man than any hulk-looking guy could ever be." You chuckled and held his face in your hands. Your lips met and every worry you ever had melted away. He still loved you, even when your face was red and ugly from crying.

That day Mark took off from work and you two just spent the day together. The past month of pain had fallen away and you could feel how much stronger your relationship was and how much closer you were together. You wouldn't trade this moment in for anything. You loved him more and more each day.

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