Summer Nights
(Mark Scout x Friend!Reader)
Word count: 902
Summary: Mark shows up on your porch late at night, not saying much at first. You don’t push. You just sit with him—and somehow, that’s exactly what he needs.
Cw: Lit nothing this is all fluff but this is my first fic like ever so sorry if it sucks lmaooo Enjoy! ✩ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ✩
For the first time in months, there’s finally no snow on the ground, and flowers are blossoming everywhere. It’s these warm summer nights that make you the most nostalgic for your old childhood. You can just imagine it; your mom cooking blueberry pie in the kitchen, your younger brother running around in the front yard with his toys, and your dad sitting in the chair on the front porch, watching him.
You decide to sit down in that same chair and watch the sky turn from a light blue into a dusky purple and pink. Taking a sip of the chamomile tea you made, you relax into the chair and a feeling of pride washes over you–the fact that you were able to hold up the fort even after dad died and your brother went off to college only a few years after you graduated. Now it’s just you and your mom left.
As you watch the clouds roll by, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You sigh, but pick up. “Hello?”
“Hey, (Name). Just calling to let you know I’ve approved your day off tomorrow. Sarah will cover your shift,” Charlie says, his voice crackling over bad Wi-Fi.
Relief floods through you. You’ll finally have a day to care for your mom, whose health seems to be getting worse by the day.
“Oh, thank goodness. Thanks for letting me know.”
You and Charlie exchange a few more words before hanging up. You feel calmer than you have all day.
Working as a barista was never your dream job, but it’s steady and low-pressure. Lately, though, the constant need to take time off for your mom has made it harder to keep up—and the stress has been piling on.
The sky is almost completely dark now, stars just starting to come out, so you decide to go back inside to the kitchen. As you put your dishes away, you hear a car coming into the driveway next door.
Mark Scout.
You glance out the window to see Mark slowly getting out of his car. His hands are buried in his coat pockets, and his shoulders seem tight, like he’s trying to protect himself from something. He doesn’t head toward his door, though. Instead, he stands still at the edge of your lawn, just staring ahead.
Then, he walks up your porch steps.
You freeze, watching as he lowers himself onto the chair across from the one you were just sitting in. He doesn’t knock. Doesn’t say anything.
Just sits there.
You hesitate for a moment before quietly opening the front door. The night air brushes against your skin. “Mark?”
He doesn’t look at you right away. When he does, his eyes are red-rimmed, glassy. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, voice low. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Your heart aches at the way he says it—not desperate or dramatic, but lost. A feeling you know all too well.
“Devon’s out of town for the weekend. I thought of calling her, but I know she needs a break from me. I just… I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” As he says this, you hear his voice break at the last sentence, and you wonder if he’s about to cry. You and Mark have been friends ever since he first moved in 2 years ago. You would consider him to be one of your closest friends, but he’s never been this vulnerable in front of you.
You step outside and sit back in your chair across from him. You take a small breath before saying, “You’re not alone. You have me”
For a while, neither of you say anything. The crickets chirp in the bushes. A breeze picks up, rustling the trees above. Mark presses his palms together, and his eyes seem to look everywhere but at you. But none of this feels awkward. It almost feels familiar, like you guys have been doing this since you first met.
The silence between the two of you is oddly comforting. Mark has always been someone you looked up to, knowing how much he’s been through, especially with him being severed and all. You don’t fully agree with his logic of working for Lumon, but his strength to at least keep going inspires you.
“I hate this time of year,” he says eventually. “It’s supposed to be warm and beautiful, but all it does is remind me of everything I’ve lost.”
You don’t have anything perfect to respond with. But you nod. “Yeah. Me too.”
His head turns toward you slightly. “How’s your mom?”
You swallow, surprised he even remembered. “Not great. I got tomorrow off to take her to a doctor’s appointment.”
Mark lets out a breath—half-sigh, half-laugh. “So we’re both falling apart a little, huh?”
You smile softly, blinking back tears. “A little.”
And then he says it. So quietly, you almost miss it: “Thank you… for being someone I could turn to.”
You shift slightly, resting your elbow on the armrest and leaning toward him just a little. “Anytime, Mark. Really.”
He looks at you. Not past you. Not through you. Just at you.
“You wanna stay a little while?” you ask.
He nods.
So you both sit there, the silence almost comforting as you both look up at the sky and watch the stars. Neither of you are okay, but somehow, you both know neither of you has to be right now.