★⋮ mark lee x fem!reader
content: angst, exes to ??, unresolved feelings, emotional dependence, grief of lost time, reconnecting after years, vulnerability, hopeful ending, no proofread!
note: rip to the original version
mark used to think love only died in the wreckage of a loud ending. he had always mapped out heartbreak in the shape of slammed doors, bitter shouting matches, and the kind of heavy, jagged words thrown around just to make the stinging hurt make sense. he thought it had to be a storm.
but it ended in a quiet room with swollen eyes and small, trembling smiles. and that was the part that stayed with him, the part that felt so much harder to carry.
three years together, and there had never been a single second where he actually stopped loving you. not even when the finality of it set in. especially not then.
the problem was never a lack of love, it was just the steady, unforgiving pull of timing. at twenty-seven, mark was finally stepping into the exact future he had spent his entire youth chasing. producers in new york wanted him full-time, labels were calling with meetings, and the opportunities began piling up so quickly that staying in seoul permanently started to look like an impossibility for his career.
and you had your own path. your own life, your own dreams rooted deeply somewhere else. neither of you wanted to watch the other give up everything they cared about, so you chose to part ways before the quiet rot of resentment could touch what you had built. there was no bad guy in the story. just two people who loved each other enough to let go.
mark still remembered that last night down to the exact smell of the room.
your apartment had smelled like rain because the windows were left open to the humid evening, the city lights below reflecting softly across the wet asphalt. you had sat together on the floor right beside the couch for nearly an hour without speaking a single word. you just held hands, fingers tightly laced, as if the silence could somehow freeze the clock and delay the morning.
"i don’t want us to hate each other one day" you whispered eventually, your voice cracking right down the middle on the last word.
mark looked at you immediately, your eyes already glossy and bright under the low apartment lighting. "we won’t"
"people always say that"
"yeah, but..." he swallowed hard, trying to ease the burning in his throat. "we’re not ending because we stopped loving each other"
the truth of that sentence sat heavy between you. you still loved him so intensely it felt like a physical weight in your chest, a dull ache behind your ribs.
mark reached up carefully, his fingertips brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, doing everything he could to keep from falling apart right in front of you.
"if i asked you to stay" you breathed, your voice barely carrying across the small space, "would you?"
his chest seized instantly. because god, yes. he would have stayed without a single second thought. but you already knew that, and that was exactly why you were asking.
mark let out a weak, wet laugh, shaking his head slightly as the tears finally threatened to spill over. "that’s not fair"
you offered him a sad, small smile. "i know"
you had survived world tours, impossible schedules, constant exhaustion, the weight of public scrutiny, and the late-night arguments born from pure stress. but this was different. this wasn't a temporary gap in time. this was years. maybe forever.
and deep down, you both knew love wasn't always enough to beat geography.
when he reached for your hand again, tightening his fingers around yours, you laughed quietly through the tightness in your chest. "you’d regret staying"
his eyes flashed with a sudden, raw frustration. "i’d regret losing you, too"
mark never really replaced you.
three years passed by, and somehow, every single track he laid down still carried your ghost. it was getting to the point where his producer was losing his patience in the studio.
"mark, it’s been years"
"yeah, i know that"
i hear your laugh in strangers sometimes.
you were all my future tense... i don’t know how to write this without sounding pathetic.
jihoon sighed, reaching over to lower the volume of the instrumental looping through the speakers. "you still love her?"
mark let out a soft breath, almost amused by how ridiculous the question felt. then his eyes welled up, bright and sudden. "man" he whispered, shaking his head. "i never stopped"
we ended softly, that’s what ruined me.
realizing he was tearing up, mark looked away quickly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "shit. sorry"
"don’t apologize"
"i’m not even sad anymore" mark said softly, searching for the right words. "it’s just..."
still look for you in crowded rooms.
every love song turns into you somehow.
jihoon leaned over, reading the fresh ink over his shoulder, and let out a dramatic groan. "oh my god. you are disgustingly in love. if she hears this, she’s marrying you on the spot"
mark went entirely still. "...you think so?"
"what actually happened between you two anyway?"
"timing" mark said. "i moved here"
"...and?"
"she deserved someone who could actually be there"
"maybe she didn't need someone else. maybe she just needed you to come back"
the words hit him like a physical blow. mark pressed his lips together, trying to hold onto his composure, but a tear slipped down his cheek anyway. "ah, fuck"
the producer didn't tease him. he just turned the speakers down until the studio fell into a complete, respectful silence, leaving mark to sit there with his head lowered, crying quietly into the sleeve of his hoodie. jihoon pretended not to notice when mark wiped his face, or the way his shoulders shook just once before he forced himself still. it was the kindest thing he could do.
for the next few weeks, mark changed lyrics at three in the morning, sending raspy voice notes to jihoon half-asleep. he rerecorded the bridge six times because it either sounded "too forced" or "not honest enough"
if timing was kinder, would you still be mine? or... did i lose you slowly?
he cried in secret between sessions, blaming his cracked voice on being tired. but finally, the song was done.
i think i left my heart somewhere between your hands and goodbye.
"so... when are you releasing it?"
"i don’t know. i think i’m waiting"
"for what?"
mark stared ahead. "a sign, maybe"
eventually, the conversation drifted to food delivery and random industry drama, mark only half-listening as he scrolled through his phone.
"you ever think about going back?" jihoon asked casually.
"i don’t know. what if i go and it changes nothing?"
"but what if it changes everything?"
mark booked the flight that night. a quiet click on his phone while he sat on the edge of his bed in the dark. he packed quickly, as if he’d change his mind if he slowed down.
he didn't take anything sentimental, just clothes and a charger, until he opened his desk drawer and saw the notebook. he tore the page out carefully, folding it once, twice, until it fit into his wallet.
mark called one of his friends.
"you did what?"
"yeah"
"all for love, huh?"
"i don’t know" mark lied softly.
"okay! well, send me a picture of your face when she slaps you"
the flight felt endless, the weight in his chest growing heavier with every mile. when he finally cleared arrivals in seoul, his brother was leaning against a pillar, scrolling through his phone.
"yo" his brother grinned, looking him up and down as mark approached. "you look like shit. you been crying?"
mark let out a tired laugh, pulling him into a brief hug. "missed you too"
as they walked out toward the parking lot, the airport noise fading behind them, his brother glanced sideways. "so, new york finally kick you out, or did you just get bored of being mysterious over there?"
"i work"
at the car, mark opened the passenger door but hesitated, staring at the roof. his brother leaned against the driver's side, his expression softening into something serious. "you didn't come all this way just because you missed home, did you?"
mark let out a soft sigh, throwing his bag into the back seat before sliding into the front. "there’s a lot"
they drove in silence for a few minutes, the familiar grey streets of seoul blurring past. mark cleared his throat, looking out the window. "do you... do you know anything about her?"
his brother paused. "yeah. she’s... the same"
"what do you mean, the same?"
"she didn't turn into a different person. i see her sometimes. not often, but we pass each other. she always says hi first. asks about mom and dad, too"
it wasn't a direct answer, but it was exactly what mark needed to hear.
"you still have feelings for her?" his brother asked gently.
watching the passing streetlights flicker across the glass, mark gave a single, honest nod.
"so what are you gonna do?"
"if we’re meant to meet again while i’m here" mark whispered, "we will"
when he stepped into the house, familiarity hit him like a wave, specifically the smell of the hallway, the exact creak of the front door, and his mother’s voice calling his name before he’d even taking off his shoes.
"mark?"
she pulled him into an embrace before he could even process it, her hands gripping his shoulders as if to check he was solid. his dad walked out right behind her, wearing that quiet, relieved smile he always tried to hide.
"what are you doing here? why? baby, you got thinner" his mom scolded immediately, pulling back to look at his face.
"i didn't" he lied automatically.
they didn't interrogate him. they just fed him, asked small questions, and pretended not to notice when he zoned out mid-sentence. eventually, he slipped away into his old room and fell face-first onto the mattress, sleeping heavily until the sun began to bleed orange through the curtains.
"we’re going out for a walk" his mom said, knocking gently on his door. "come with us. you’ve been asleep for hours"
the neighborhood felt entirely unchanged. mark walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, listening to his family talk around him like a comfortable, warm noise.
"why are you so quiet today?" his mom asked, adjusting her bag.
mark smiled a little. "nah, i’m just listening"
they stopped at a street cart that smelled of fried sugar and smoke. as his dad and brother started arguing over the order, mark hung back a few paces, his eyes drifting lazily over the crowd. couples walking past, someone laughing down the block.
and then, his lungs completely emptied.
a cold shock runs straight through his chest, freezing the blood in his veins. his fingers tighten inside his pockets. he tries to keep his face completely blank, but it’s a losing battle, he’s stuck somewhere between total disbelief and a sudden, burning sting right behind his eyes. he didn't expect this today. he thought he’d at least have time to prepare, time to catch his breath.
you’re looking down, completely lost in your own head, entirely unaware of the world around you. then, like you can actually feel his eyes on you, you lift your head and stop.
the air gets impossibly heavy, suffocatingly quiet, loaded with the crushing weight of three full years of absolute silence. it’s not just the shock of seeing you standing there; it’s the brutal reality of noticing the exact ways time has changed things.
every single night he spent wondering where you were, every single emotion he swallowed down inside soundproof studio walls, and every text he ever drafted and deleted comes crashing right back to the surface. it feels physical, like a solid punch to the gut that leaves him completely empty of air. your tears aren't just water; they’re the living proof of everything you had to bury while he was thousands of miles away, trying to convince himself that walking away had been the smart thing to do.
seeing you break down without saying a single word completely ruins him. he can't even tell if you're angry, or happy, or if it just hurts too bad to look at him. you somehow survived the long distance only to be completely undone by a chance encounter on a random afternoon. it’s the kind of crying that means it’s way too late to pretend the years didn't leave deep scars.
"hi" his voice is barely a rough whisper, cracking completely under the strain of his throat tightening up.
"hi"
mark looks at your face properly now, tracing the exact shape of your eyes, the way you’re trying so damn hard to hold yourself together and failing in the tiny ways only he knows how to read. his chest feels like it’s splitting wide open. he looks up at the sky, blinking furiously to force back his own tears, his teeth digging into his bottom lip until it stings.
but you close the distance reaching up to cup his face, your thumbs wiping at the dampness under his eyes.
his arms wrap around you, tight and desperate. everything he spent three years holding back just collapses.
"i’m sorry"
"mark" his name feels heavy, like something you haven't been allowed to say out loud in a lifetime. "mark, don't"
his forehead rests against the curve of your neck, breath hitched, ragged, and hot against your skin.
"i didn't know how to stay, everyone kept telling me i was doing the right thing. you told me i was doing the right thing. but i got over there, and... nothing felt right. none of it"
you close your eyes, a hot tear spilling onto his shoulder. "we had to. you know we had to"
"then why does it feel like i ruined everything?" he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands shifting to slide up the sides of your neck, his thumbs anchoring his trembling hands against your jaw.
"you look different" you whisper softly, the words slipping out as you finally pull back just an inch, your palms remaining flat against his chest.
he lets out a dry, humorless breath, his eyes dropping to your lips before lifting back to yours, still wet and shining under the streetlamps. "bad? a failure?"
"you could never be a failure to me, mark"
"i just... can we... um— can we meet one of these days? just to talk? you know, without my family watching us and..."
"okay"
"oh— okay"
it’s a little awkward, a little fragile, your chests still tight and heavy as you try to transition out of the raw breakdown into something manageable.
mark reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. his fingers fumbled a little, noticeably clumsy, as he draws out a folded piece of paper.
"this is for you" he says softly, pressing the paper into your palm.
"what is it?"
"your song" he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "i mean... i wrote a lot of things. i just carried it around because i wanted to give it to you if i ever got brave enough"
you unfold the paper slowly. his handwriting, rushed and entirely familiar. suddenly it feels exactly like three years ago. you can see the heavy crossed out lines, the rewritten sentences, and the tiny, wrinkled distortions in the paper where the ink had blurred.
"you don’t have to read it right now" he mutters, suddenly looking intensely nervous, his eyes darting to the floor.
but you shake your head. you need to.
i tried to hate you once just so losing you would hurt less but you were too kind to become a villain in my story.
if you asked me today, right now, to stay beside you for the rest of my life, i still would.
if another life exists somewhere after this one, i hope i meet you earlier. i hope i keep you longer.
"you can’t just..." your voice breaks completely, the paper trembling violently in your hand. "you can’t just give me this after three years, mark. you can't just walk back into my life and drop this on me"
mark steps right back into your space, pulling you against his chest. his arms wrap around you slowly this time.
"i know" he whispers, his own voice cracking badly now, his lips pressed against the crown of your head. "i know, baby, i know. i'm sorry"
the old nickname slips out so effortlessly, entirely natural, surviving the three year gap like it had never left his vocabulary. caught up in the middle of crying too hard to care, neither of you even acknowledges it.
"i thought about you every day" he admits shakily into your hair. "every single day. it was exhausting"
from a few feet away, his mom looks ready to cry herself, while his brother stares fixedly down the street, looking thoroughly uncomfortable with witnessing something so raw and private.
the sharp, intrusive buzz of your phone breaks the silence.
"sorry" you mumble, sniffing as you pull back, wiping at your face with the heel of your hand.
mark nods immediately, granting you just enough space, though his eyes never actually leave your face, still anchored to you.
you answer with a raspy, unstable, "hello?"
"where are you?" your best friend’s voice comes through the receiver, loud and slightly annoyed. "i’ve been waiting by the cafe for like twenty minutes. did you get lost?"
"ah... i’m sorry. i ran into someone"
a heavy, knowing pause on the other end. "...someone? wait. are you crying?"
you let out a weak, wet laugh, shaking your head. "yeah. a little"
"...oh my god. is it"
"i’ll explain later" you interrupt gently, your voice soft. "i'll be there in five minutes"
hanging up, you look up at mark, your chest still feeling tight but lighter than it has in years. "i’m sorry. i really have to go. she's waiting"
"i know" he says before you can even finish, a soft, understanding look in his eyes. "go"
you take a small step closer, smile exhausted but completely real for the first time in three years. "you’ll text me later? my number is still the same"
"yeah, i know it is" he says quietly. "i will"
you nod, leaning up on your toes to whisper against his ear so quietly that only he can hear it over the city traffic. "i love you too, bye"
mark lets out a short, rough laugh, shaking his head as if he still can't entirely believe it. he runs a hand through his hair, watching you take a few backwards steps before you finally turn around.
his family is standing right there, every single one of them looking at you with these incredibly soft, knowing smiles. it is completely dizzying. your cheeks burn as you realize they had just been quietly waiting, watching the whole raw mess unfold with nothing but pure affection in their eyes.
"hi, i—god, i'm so sorry"
mark’s mom lets out a soft laugh, immediately stepping forward to give your arm a reassuring squeeze. "oh, honey, don't even worry about it"
his dad just smiles, an incredibly warm look on his face as he gives you a small, comforting nod that completely eases your panic.
"it was really, really nice to see you all, but i'm in such a terrible hurry" you say, offering them one last breathless, flustered smile.
"it's okay, just go"
mark just stands there on the pavement, completely paralyzed.
"alright, the show is over, statue" his brother says, slapping a heavy hand onto mark's shoulder and shaking him back and forth. "you flew across an entire ocean just to turn into absolute mush five minutes after landing? it’s honestly embarrassing, mark. look at you"
mark blinks, his vision finally shifting away from the empty street corner. rubbing the back of his neck as he pulls his jacket collar up a little higher. "shut up, i'm moving"
you are just a few doors down from the cafe where your friend is waiting, trying to catch your breath and smooth down your hair. before you can even reach the entrance, the phone buzzes violently against your palm, making you jump.
markiepoo 💙: i know you literally just left but... i’m happy i saw you today
markiepoo 💙: and i still mean everything i wrote down :)
the screen glows brightly in your hand. and just like that, the endless, agonizing silence of the last three years feels like it never even happened. you bite your lip, a shaky, completely helpless laugh bubbling up in your throat as you look down at his name.
you quickly type back your response before heading inside to face your friend.
you: good. i hope every love song you write for the rest of your life sounds a little bit like me :)