wingate gardens -got7 ✓

23- american hell

it was always cold. mark remembered that first, how the wind pushed itself into every corner of his tiny room, nestling under his blankets and running it's icy hands across the walls. he was always cold.

he would sit for hours, hugging his knees tightly to his chest to try and forget about the hunger throbbing in his stomach, and cry. well, he would never release any tears. not with joey sat next to him. he would keep the sobs to himself, trying harder every day to keep them from bursting out of him.

when his mother was still around, he had never needed to cry. when his mother was still around, he had been happy.

they had always been poor- him, his brother, his mum and his dad. they weren't well off, the opposite even. their apartment was small, with no running water or a proper kitchen, they never had enough to eat and almost everything they owned had been passed through at least 3 owners before it was their's.

in a way, mark didn't mind. sure, he often felt the need to cry when he thought of all the things his classmates had that he didn't. but on the whole, he was happy. his parents were still together, which a lot of his friends couldn't say, and he had a brother who loved him more than words could express. and he loved them all back.

they never had anything, but they had each other. that was enough.

for 13 years, they lived like that. happy. poor, but happy. mark moved up through school, started middle school and made many new friends. he spent most of his time at their houses and relished the warmth he felt all the time.

even at home, he felt warm. his world was expanding past the tiny house he had grown up in. for the first time, he was popular, the school even kept his money situation a secret, supplying him with free meals and tutition behind the other students' backs.

when he came home, he'd be greeted by smiles and questions about his day. and for the night, the house would be full of laughter.

warmth spread through him like a sunset lighting up the night sky. whenever he thought back to that time of his life, all he could think about was the warmth, and the unadulterated happiness that washed over his entire being.

then they received the news.

at age 14, mark found out his mother was dying. his father never told him the details, for fear of upsetting his son too much, so mark never really knew what she had been diagnosed with. all he knew was that she had been diagnosed, and that she didn't have long left.

they tried to make the most of their time together, forcing the warmth to linger for just a few more years. mark's grades dropped, and he remembered the disappointment lurking in his mother's eyes when she found out.

she had turned to him and said, "mark honey. don't let what's happening to me affect your life. you're more than me. you need to work hard,"

his father had said nothing, just stared at him in stony silence. he had been like that for a while, silent. it had become the normal. and yes, he still laughed and smiled like he used to, but it never reached his eyes. they remained the same. glassy.

mark wasn't allowed to see his mother in her final moments. he was at school. he knew nothing.

a note was given to him in math class, with just the simple words 'family emergency' excusing him from the rest of the school day. without having to think, he knew what had happened. as did his best friend youngjae who, after some convincing, was allowed to leave with him. for moral support, youngjae had told the teacher.

mark was 15 when he saw his mother's dead body in the hospital. joey was 11. youngjae didn't need to hear any words to know that mark needed space, so he left. the two brothers and their father stared at the body for too long, long enough for mark to feel the coldness descending onto him, the coldness that would define the rest of his life.