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Mark felt like he never fit in anywhere. Throughout his school life, he never really focused on making friends – long lasting friends that is. And even when he tried, it was only so he could get help from them with the things he was studying – a means to “survive”.
Now at Rainbow, with how much teamwork was emphasised, he didn’t really have an option in making friends. Sure, he had befriended some of his co-workers – James, Hwa, Timur – but he always felt a disconnect between them, a rift. As if a constant reminder to him that he’ll never fit in. That he’s just different.
He had just come to accept it.
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
As he sat on the edge of the roof, holding a can of some cheap energy drink, he took in the night sky ahead of him. White dots sparkled in the black abyss as a hole of light peeked just above the buildings. He swung his legs as he hunched forward.
He knew that no one would bother him at that moment.
He knew that no one would even suspect him doing something like this. That they wouldn't even notice the mindless buzz that seemed to eat away at his brain every single day. Or the countless nights he spent staring at the ceiling just thinking. (They didn't need to know anyway.)
Or the amount of times he spent alone in his room, doing damage that even he regrets doing. Damage that he probably would never forgive himself for. Damage that would force him to wear long sleeves for the rest of the day so that no one would suspect a thing.
But it's okay. He didn't blame anyone else. He only has himself to blame. And if no one finds out about what really goes on, then it's okay. Because if no one else knows and if it’s only him who’s affected, then that's okay. Because at least then, no one would be burdened by that small part of him that's secretly yearning for something, something real, someone that would take in the little details. Or at the very least, someone that would help.
But he had long shut down that part of himself — buried it so deep that even he would forget about it sometimes, because he’s Mark bloody Chandar, and he would rather die than be vulnerable for even a second. It's a merciless world, and even the smallest of slip ups would push him to fall – to be convinced that he would be nothing without the one good thing he had left, that was his intelligence. If he were to show even a hint of vulnerability, it would show the world how truly weak he was. He just couldn't have that.
As the time passed, the sky started to brighten ever so slightly. As the first orange rays finally started to shine from the horizon, Mark could just faintly hear the song of the birds chirping. Mark never was one to study birds or nature or anything of the like – he was too busy studying metal and machine rather than flesh and life.
But if Mark kept his eye on a bird that landed on the other side of the roof and looked at it ever so intently, taking in the light reflecting off its glossy black feathers before it took off into the sunrise, it’s safe to say that no one else would be there to notice.