#markxdr

[jihyoxdr-blog]

all things scorched

she isn’t sure how it came to this mess. her sparkling clean kitchen, one which the number of times used is countable with only one hand, is in a horrible mess. it’s just two dishes and one soup, how hard could it be? terribly hard for her, as a matter of fact. not that she would outright admit her atrocious (non-existence) cooking skill.

the kitchen counter is scattered with chopped ingredients and half unpacked grocery bags. they’re going to be used up anyway, she didn’t think there was any reason why she has to bother unpacking them neatly at one side. one burnt pan filled with water over in the sink, and black unidentifiable substances in the waste bin that were totally the failed products of her cooking.

it isn’t that she’s bad at cooking. she just got distracted by the news on the television and forgot the food was still cooking until she smelled something bad. she just had to focus.

she turns the stove on again, placing the pan on top of the glass surface. the doorbell rings right at this moment and a familiar face appears on the intercom monitor. goodness why is he here so early. she has yet to even be done with one dish at all how is she going to prove that she can actually cook something decent? she doesn’t even have time to at least attempt to make the kitchen more presentable as the doorbell rings again and she rushes off to open the door for him.

“you’re early! too eager to try my cooking?” she jokingly says as she ushers him in. “beverages in the fridge, help yourself to– oh shit!” she scrambles over to the stove where clearly yet another pan is burnt as pungent smell and smoke fills up the kitchen area.

@markxdr

[markxdr-blog]

hold your breath and count to three - mark & doyeon

@xdrdoyeon

he sits on his bed, staring out the window, the thrum of rain colliding with steel above him chiding softly to his ears. the apartment is dark and silent, the only source of light coming from a small ceramic lamp that sits near his closet, but even then it shines dull and yellow, overtaken by gloom.

thunders rumbles overhead, causing mark to wince and his bed to squeak slightly under his weight. it has been exactly a year and 3 months since he filed for a permanent roommate discharge, something that, at the time, he believed would keep both people safe. at times, it did just that.

this was not one of those times.

the flash of lightning brings mark from his thoughts, his mind scrambling in anticipation as he waits for the rumble to follow.

4 seconds, 5 seconds, 6 seconds, 7 sec-

the quaking noise causes him to jump, and he knows he cannot stay here. to be alone with one’s thoughts can sometimes hinder more than help, and mark has been at the forefront of that belief for a very long time.

he nudges himself off the bed and drops onto the floor, sliding his feet into a pair of slippers near to him and grabbing a loose shirt and some shorts to throw on. at this time of night, sleep would not help him lose troublesome memories, it would instead make it worse.

he leaves his apartment quickly, careful not too make too much noise in his depart. he finds it, from experience, quite embarrassing to explain to his neighbors the reasoning for leaving at 3 in the morning with no explanation, and he does not want to go through it all again.

it does not take long to get to the kitchen, after all, mark is the master of nighttime-sneakery. it also doesn’t take him long to find his favorite coffee brewer, and snag the box of coffee beans from the shelf. he is quiet while he prepares it, keeping his focus on the whirring of the grinder, but even his thoughts cannot be kept away for long. the noise brings along a white flash, the image of a bulldozer as it scrapes away the remnants of his family home, and then it disappears, leaving mark trembling.

he rushes the finish the coffee and pours it into a mug, taking a huge sip and relishing the feeling of the warmth running down his throat, filling him with peace.

peace, something he hasn’t felt in a long while.