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Language:
English
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Published:
2021-12-18
Completed:
2021-12-26
Words:
3,623
Chapters:
6/6
Comments:
2
Kudos:
20
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1
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623

growing pains

Summary:

If you’re not his first and he’s not your last, then he’ll be your worst and you’ll be his best.

Stealing kisses, sweeping debate competitions, sharing dreams—for the first time—with someone who understands: being with Mark is being alive, basking in his radiance when you know you can’t linger. But how do you say goodbye when you haven’t left yet? In the end, you’ll never be kids again—and yet the path ahead is so uncertain. Can’t you stay with him for a little longer?

Notes:

originally posted to tumblr here

i’ve had this idea since either aug ‘19 or feb ‘20. i first came up with it in one stage of my life, wrote most of the original vision in another, and overhauled it into its final form in yet another. originally, this was going to be one big all-encompassing fic serving as my high school magnum opus, but i don’t think it’s feasible/necessary to have just one story represent my writing career.

these are six self-contained stories, all highlights of a larger plot. they represent growth, youth, goodbyes, and new beginnings. i hope you enjoy these as much as i do.

Chapter 1: the preparation

Chapter Text

When you and Mark win the second debate tournament in a row, two days after you submit your early college application, you feel like a bit of a fraud.

“Holy shit, we won,” he beams, pulling you in for a kiss. You smile when he pulls back, trying to match his enthusiasm. “We’re on a winning streak now, and we’re gonna sweep at the next tournament—”

His phone buzzes, and his face immediately twists once he checks the notification.

“Parents?” you query tentatively. He nods, and you sigh sympathetically.

“You can guess how they reacted.”

“‘Good job, now don’t forget to submit your Wharton application tomorrow’?” you ask, one hand rising to cradle his face. He leans into your touch.

“Mhm—they couldn’t care less about anything else.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll get rejected, don’t worry.”

“Yeah.”

Mark hates Wharton and all things business-related. Unfortunately, his CEO parents are determined for him to go there too, oblivious to his love for physics and anthropology.

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” he settles, pocketing his phone. “We still won. Swept the floor with their asses in finals—I’m just surprised it was a 2-1 decision.”

“Yeah. Mark, I don’t—honestly, I don’t feel like I deserved it.” You glance down to the slant of his mouth, lips ready to part in protest. “I couldn’t help with the prep as much as I normally could. You helped edit my essays, and you still did most of the work, and I was… just there.”

You know it is unfair to burden him when he has worries of his own. You know it is unfair to feel this way about yourself. You know that this is about more than just the tournament.

“I’m sorry you feel like that,” he frowns, brushing a kiss on your forehead. You lean forward, hands wrapping around his neck, and rest your face on his shoulder. “We couldn’t have won without you researching and destroying teams in-round. Don’t doubt yourself, okay?” You nod. “And I know you’re worried about decisions, but things will work out. Everything will be okay in the end.”

He’s right, you have to admit. He’s completely right.

You wish he had said something different.