it's another beautiful night (i'm shining)

part one.

Mark never thought he was particularly weird. Sure, he did some weird stuff, but so did everyone else to be honest, but it didn't make him weird. He didn't even think anything was wrong with him until one visit from the doctor told him otherwise. He was younger, maybe eleven, maybe twelve, maybe thirteen, but that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that Mark got into a biking accident that required him to get stitches on his face and multiple trips to the doctors.

The doctor had wanted to make sure he didn't have a concussion and made Mark follow the light he was shining in his eyes. Mark felt like he could have puked and fainted at the same time, the doctor's flashlight mixed with the urgent and worried maroon of his parents, the crimson of his pain, and the bright white sterile of the hospital made him so dizzy he crumpled back into his father's arms murmuring how the colors were too loud it hurt.

When the room stopped spinning and Mark could open his eyes and focus, Mark's parents were looking at him in increased worry, his mother muttering a constant stream of red under her breath that he did have concussion and how she was going to kill his cousins for letting him tag along with them as she wrung her wrists. Mark's father had his hand, warm and safe, cradling the back of Mark's neck, his thumb rubbing soft, comforting circles.

His father glanced at the doctor before shifting his gaze to glance down at Mark.

"Yien," he started softly, still gently massaging the back of Mark's neck. "What did you mean when you said the colors were too loud?"

And so Mark tried his best to explain in a weakened, tired voice how there were just too many loud colors in the room from his parents' worry and the doctor's calming blue, and the light grey haze stemming from the constant hum of the machines that it just felt like too much and it made him dizzy.

And so, it was this visit to the doctor that confirmed that Mark had something the majority the population didn't: synesthesia.

-

It's a common mistake people make when they think that Mark's silence means he's passive. (He'd gotten into so many fights when he was younger that his father put him into martial arts saying that if he was going to fight, he was going to be safe (win). It was a win-win situation, Mark's mother stopped getting too worried and all of Mark's extra energy was now devoted to cool martial arts tricking.)

Mark is quiet not because he doesn't have anything to say, but because he just doesn't want to speak. Why would he want to speak when he can listen and marvel at the colors of each of his members' voices? Why would he want to see his own voice when he has six other people, six other colors, to appreciate.

He's learned his members as quickly as he did thanks to his synesthesia. He's learned them by their colors, their moods, their personalities. He loves when he's able to help his friends and family by knowing exactly what they need based on the color of their voice or how down their mood is. He loves his friends so much, he never wants anything to seriously bother them and always wants to help them, when he can.

His mother always joked after they found out about his synesthesia, how his heart was too soft a pink and that he had to take good care of it. Mark doubted his heart was that color, but he appreciated the confusing sentiment nonetheless.

-

Mark loves to observe his members. He likes to sit and watch them make a fool out of themselves or talk quietly over dinner. He's so thankful that they don't mind him just hanging around and don't mind him not talking. His members are lovely, never forcing him to talk and letting him laugh at his heart's extent.

Mark has notebooks of half-written lyrics and descriptions of people and sounds and colors. If anyone were to find them they would have thought his scribbles were nonsense, but Mark treasures all of his notebooks, especially a special, leather bound one the members got for him for one of his birthdays before debut. They saved up extra money, penny pinching when they could to get it before his birthday and Mark will always treasure this notebook more than others. Inside of it is only his neatest writing and the most beautiful of his observations, such as the descriptions of his members colors.