chapter 4.2

The next few weeks pass by rather uneventfully after the incident, at least in comparison to the last. Police are still hot on the case of Yuna's hit-and-run perpetrator, but they struggle to find witnesses as the crime occurred so early in the morning. The local CCTV didn't even cover the area where it happened which leaves the driver ultimately still at large.

The Lee's and your other friends texted in the group chat plenty and you grew much more accustomed to having them around. Mark drives you to the hospital to visit Yuna a couple times a week and the three of you would eat lunch together in her room for a small sense of normalcy. It's a tough transition for you nonetheless- your best friend and roommate who you were used to seeing every day is now so far away - your time together reduced to a few hours a week. However, the initial shock of the situation eventually faded and the two of you have come to terms with how things are. Yuna and you agreed to not cry about it anymore until she got started on physical therapy and gave recovery her best shot. Thankfully, Ten is there with her everyday and every night so it's bearable for her.

Mark's always been sweet about your comfort zone, too, never pushing you to talk about your feelings yet at the same time, always there for you when you need him. Neither one of you brought up the almost-kisses. The first reason being, you aren't ready to remind yourself of the horrible things that happened afterwards. Actually, does there need to be another reason?

So the days tick by and seeing Mark naturally became part of your daily routine. It's something you look forward to when you get ready in the morning. Although the realization hasn't hit, seeing him is something you that makes your day feel complete. His good heart shines more and more to you everyday as you chose to continue to accompany him to Sunday volunteering. You get to witness how Mark's eyes glow whenever he talks to the people gathered in the church. The way he treats everyone there as if they're his own family. Sincerity and maturity- that's what you find in him.

In addition to walking you to class everyday, Mark now has a special seat next to you in the front row of your economics lecture, leaving Jeno and Ten snickering behind you as they watch closely at your interactions. You eat lunch at the willow tree by the basketball court on the days you aren't visiting Yuna. After a while, you grew used to the dirty looks from the girls across the court, even daring to glare back when you meet Hillary's fiery stare. Nonetheless, you've developed a comfortable social routine with your newfound friends. All was well except for one obvious issue weighing heavily on your shoulders.

The middle of October rolls by and you grind your way through your evening shift at Frankie's. Thankfully, it's a Tuesday, so late-night stragglers aren't much of an issue. You finish scrubbing down the kitchen counters and wipe your hands on your waitress apron. Unfortunately, it's your turn to close so you're the only one left working tonight. Your back aches from hours of waiting tables and your cheeks hurt from the wide smile you offered all of your customers, rude or not. An underrated pain. Sighing, you count your tips for the day.

A bell chimes from the door.

"Sorry we're closed-," you stop your words as you see the figure illuminated by the low diner lights.

"Is it too late for me to talk with the pretty waitress?" Mark grins, unzipping and taking off his wind breaker. You roll your eyes but your smile tells him you aren't actually annoyed.

"The pretty waitress is covered in barbeque sauce and all purpose cleaner. Proceed?"

"Oh no, not barbeque sauce! Cancel request! Cancel Request!"

You laugh, throwing a nickel at his dramatic display.

"Wait, give that back to me. I need every tip I can get," you say, holding out your hand to receive the coin. Mark obediently picks it up, handing it to you as he takes a seat at the bar. You thank him, flipping through the crinkled, greasy bills from the tip jar. The creeping disappointment must have shown on your face because Mark breaks the silence.

"Not a good night?" His words are careful. He understands you're under a lot of stress recently, but he doesn't have the heart to pry further and make you tell him why. This, you appreciate. Mark just assumed it's about Yuna or grades, but you never actually confided the real reason of how much your financial situation really scared you.

"Not a good..." you debate telling him everything. On one hand, you don't want to come off as needy or desperate. On the other, you want to tell Mark because you know he'll listen to you and letting it out would make you feel better. "Not a good anything," you finally admit, setting the scraggly bills down on the clean counter between you.

Only $26.84 for the whole night.

Mark's soft brows are creased in concern as he waits for you to elaborate. He rests his chin on his knuckles, watching you pensate your feelings carefully. You meet his soft gaze. His eyes tell you it's okay. You let your shoulders relax, not even realizing the tension they were carrying.

"I...," you start, letting out a small sigh as you walk your way around the counter to sit on the stool next to him. He spins his stool so he's properly facing you. You pick at the mysterious stain on your apron.

How do I even tell him about this? Hey Mark, I'm broke! I might drop out because I don't have money for school, thus ruining everything my parents and I have worked for. It's cute.

"I guess I'm just worried," you resolve after a minute, "I'm worried because, well, because of money". You wince at hearing the words out loud but continue before you could take it back, "my parents are working really hard to get the money for my tuition, but things aren't looking good for next semester". You continue to tell him about how you've been picking up extra shifts to try to save up, but skating fees and money for basic necessities eats whatever you earn right up. The thought of quitting skating to save money came to your mind, but you never followed through because that was as much of a necessity as anything. A miracle occurred with the skating competition, only for the accident to come and take that away too. You tried to ask around, but everyone either already had a partner or were too busy to participate in the competition. So now you can either go rob a bank or take a gap year and hope you'll be able to return. Mark listens to your qualms quietly until you finish.

"The competition, did you ask people who aren't on your team?," Mark inquires, resting a reassuring hand on yours.

"Yeah, I even asked the girls on JV, but nobody wants to do it since they think they can't win," you confirm with a sad nod.

"That's so dumb," Mark stated, "you're like, the best skater ever. Even the worst girl on JV could win if they did it with you".

You look at him in surprise. His thumb runs comfortingly across your knuckles, sending tingles down your arm. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you look back down at your joined hands. To be honest, you aren't too sure what you guys are: officially, you were just friends at the moment, but anyone could see that there's something here, right? As of late, too much has been on your mind for you to possibly sit down and ponder it. Neither one of you has confessed feelings of any sort, but the night at the lake can't just be ignored. And do normal friends hold hands like this?

"Right, tell that to them. Nobody wanted to be my partner, so yeah, I'm kind of in a pickle with tuition right now"

"Well can anyone be your partner?," Mark asks.

"What do you mean? Like, just ask random strangers to skate with me?"

"No I mean like... I could do it". His expression remains serious, alluding that he meant every word of the ridiculous proposition.

"You could-" you stop to consider, "I mean I guess? I don't think Coach Tanya said anything about the participants needing to be on the team... or be a girl. But there's a big problem we're not considering."

"What problem?"

"You don't know how to figure skate". You free your hand from his and punch him lightly in the arm.

"But I play hockey and I've skated all my life," Mark bargains, raising his arms smugly and shrugging, "how hard can it be?"

"How hard-" you wheeze. You laugh out loud as the serious boy looked on indignantly. "Figure skating is miles different from what you guys do. Y'all go, what, forwards and backwards? Can you do a jump?".

"I can too do a jump," Mark defends.

"Okay, what about a single axel jump?"

"Uh..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," you giggle, grabbing the counter and spinning your stool around. Mark watches on endearingly.

"Y/n" the sound of your name stops your childish break and you look at him expectantly. "What if I practice every day. I can learn your uh- single axis"

"Axel," you correct.

"Axel. I can learn this axel jump and I can practice it and whatever else you need so you can do the competition". You can't tell if he's being serious, but your heart skips a beat nonetheless.

"Deadass?"

"Deadass," Mark nods.

"Why... why...". You struggle to find the right words.

"Because I like you," Mark interrupts, "and I want to do this for you because it would make you happy? I'd streak across campus fully nude and screaming if it made you happy".

Did he just...confess?

"It would," you nod seriously.

"It would? Which part? The competition or-"

"No, the streaking," you shake your head, ignoring the steady increase of your heart rate. You press your lips into a flat line and nod to feign seriousness. Mark pauses before getting up. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, sighing before lifting it up over his head.

"Let's get this over with," he sighs again, fiddling with his belt buckle. You shriek, shielding your eyes from his half-nude appearance. Although you don't want to admit it, you let your eyes linger on his lean torso through your fingers.

Damn, maybe hockey does have some benefits.

"I was kidding! Please put your clothes back on!," you cry. You hear him laugh as he pulls the garment back on.

"Okay I'm decent. I'm decent," Mark assures, taking his seat next to you again. "But seriously, I meant what I said and you don't have to reply until you're ready. I completely understand if you don't know yet. Just know that I am here for you and I-," he grabs the edge of your stool and pulls it firmly so you're facing him, "-really like you. As more than friends".

You feel surprisingly... unsurprised; the stress of life always goes away when Mark is around and you forgot all about the scattered pennies and nickels on the counter. Although his confession was so sudden, you had a feeling it was coming eventually. It didn't feel shocking, but more like... finally. That being said, you have never thought about your reply. Are you ready for a relationship? And most of all, are you sure about your feelings for him? The last thing you want was to say you like him back and have it end up not being true.

Like always, the understanding, patient look in Mark's eyes tell you that he'll wait for you to reply when you're ready.

"Okay". You smile.

"Okay". He mirrors.

"Let's do it, the competition," you decide.

"Really?"

"Yeah, let's give it our best shot! After all, it's a crowd vote and your popularity might gain us favor," you tease, poking his chest. "What time is it?"

"It's 9:48pm, why?," Mark answers, checking his lock screen. You hop off your stool and begin untying your apron.

"You drove here right?". He nods. "Then there's somewhere I wanna go if you're willing to drive". You shove your tips for the night into your bag.

"You know I'm always down for you," Mark smiles, grabbing your jacket off the rack and helping you into it. He stands in front of you and zips you up without you asking, fixing the hood so it's all proper. You watch him in silent awe as he smooths down the wrinkles by your collar carefully, slinging the strap of your bag over his own shoulder without a word. It's always these things, the little things, that leave you speechless.

The drive was pleasant. Mark put on your favorite radio channel and the two of you vibed comfortably to the acoustic music, the only interruptions were your quiet directions to the desired destination. You examined Mark's face as he focused on the road, tipping his head back and forth to the beat with one hand on the wheel. It was dark, but the passing street lights illuminated his features in mesmerizing flashes, almost as if they were afraid to show his face for too long, the beauty would be too much to handle. His cheekbones were especially accentuated by the small smile on his lips. Looking at him made you feel... calm.

You pull into the familiar parking lot. The blue neon lights above the building reading "Skate City" buzz with electricity as the two of you got out of the car.

"You wanted to come here? To a kid's roller rink?". Mark chuckles as he shut the driver side door.

"Make fun of me now but you'll see why" you roll your eyes. You lead him into the colorful, familiar building.

The interior of the building is just like you remembered: the dark, ragged carpet is covered in colorful squiggles and dots resembling an abstract representation of worms and confetti. If that isn't bad enough, the matching wallpaper and UV lights top off the hallucinogenic nightmare of a roller rink. Usually, it's also filled with the screams of children. Due to the lateness in the day, the rink is empty and the usual disco funk is thankfully turned off. You would think it to be closed if it weren't for the man watching TV behind the counter.

"Mr. Joseph," you call out with a wave. The man grunts, pulling his feet from off of the counter and shuffling through the mess of papers to find his glasses. He's an unassuming man in about his early forties, balding, pot-bellied, and proud. Nobody would guess that he's the man who first taught you to skate.

"Why is that Miss y/n?," Mr. Joseph exclaims, rounding the counter to hug you.

"How have you been, Joe?"

"Well, you know me. I'm gettin' by. Who's this fella over here?". Joe adjusts his specs and squints up at Mark.

"This," you nudge the shy boy forward slightly, "is my friend, Mark. Mark, this is my family friend and former coach, Mr. Joseph. Also known as Joe," you introduce.

The two men exchange a firm handshake.

"Nice meeting you, Mark. You treating her right?" Joe narrows his eyes even more. Are they even open?

"Um so," you cough, saving Mark from the awkward question, "Joe, we need skates for Mark".

"Wait, but I already have skates, y/n-,"

"No, you have hockey skates, Mark. You're gonna need proper figure skates if we're gonna do this competition right," you explain.

"Competition, huh," Joe coughs, waddling into the back room and motioning for you to follow.

"Yeah, I don't know if my parents told you, but Yuna was in an accident and now she can't do the pair skate with me. Mark's a hockey player but," you glance at him with a smile, "he offered to pick up some skills and be my partner".

"Here," Joe smacks a pair of skates into Mark's arms, "try these, boy".

"Thank you, sir". Mark bows and goes out to the bench to try them on.

Once he was out of sight, Joe leans down to you, "you like this boy?".

"Stop!," you cry out in a hush, covering your reddening ears with your hands.

"I'm just saying," Joe held up his hands innocently, "I can tell he likes you, you know. Men know and and you know me, I've got a good eye".

"Yeah... I just," you stop to think about it. Well it's true he likes you...

The question comes back. Do you like him?

You look to the door where you could see his shadow lacing up the new skates. You wish he would hurry back. Being without him felt like something was missing. Even if he was right around the corner, it didn't feel good that you couldn't see him and feel his reassuring presence. Realization begins to creep in and you turn to look back at Joe's I-told-you-so expression. He gives you a pat on the shoulder, "Make sure he's good to you".

Mark's figure reappears at the doorway, oblivious to your pounding heart and emotions flooding in so suddenly. Really, now? The timing is so bad. But you watch with focused attention as he steps awkwardly into the room wearing the skates, stretching out his arms to maintain his balance.

"I think they fit!," Mark beams at you, causing the butterflies in your stomach to migrate all around.

"That's good, boy. Take them on the house," Joe guides him back out to take them off before he could hurt himself.

"Oh no, sir-"

"Please, they were collecting dust in that storage room. Nobody wants men's figure skates anymore these days and I'm glad to help y/n out" Joe dismisses.

"Joe," you stop him, wrapping your arms around Joe's neck to give him a big hug, "thank you," you whisper.

"Of course, kiddo" he pats your back again, "you make me proud".

You bid your goodbyes to Joe as he locks up Skate City for the night. In the car, you hold your breath and turn towards Mark. Strangely, your head is in the clouds at the sight of his face, a face you've grown so familiar with in the past few weeks, yet feels brand new. Suddenly, he leans in close, close enough for you to count his pretty eyelashes, warranting your breath to hitch in your throat. Unaware of your new predicament, Mark places the box of skates in the backseat and sits up straight again to buckle his seatbelt. You exhale the breath you didn't know you were holding.

Right, I shouldn't get ahead of myself.

"So, are you tired or do you wanna do some skating today?," you finally ask. You hope he doesn't hear the way your voice shakes a little. You hope it's too dark for him to see the fervent blush upon your cheeks.

Mark flashes you a crooked smile, starting the car, "Y/n, I'm always down for you, remember? School rink?".

You nod.

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