He knows he's not him. He's not his father, he's not. Right? But what if he was. What if Mark was just like him? And he doesn’t even know it. Then what? He's not a monster, right? He doesn’t want to be. He's just.. he's having a hard time. Mark thought he was stronger, he thought.. he was better. He thought.. Mark doesn’t even know what he thought anymore.

He stopped going out as much, he stopped being there, with the people that mattered. People said he just needed time, but that’s not really what Mark needed, and he knew that. He didn’t need time, he needed to confide in someone, he needed someone to tell him he wasn’t him and really mean it. But could they look at him how he needed?

They were just so pure, so full of life, and they always knew what to say to him. But he couldn’t go to them like this? What if he messed it up in all his sulking mess? What if they didn’t even miss him like he missed them? What if they one day looked at him, and saw his father? God that thought made him sick to his stomach. Everyday he has to look in the mirror, it's half of him. Invincible.

He stood there, at the window, the window he always flies to come in. They don’t see him, and for a moment he's glad. He's starting to chicken out, why is he even here? To whine? To sulk? What is it? This is such a loser thing to do. Here he is, he couldn’t even raise his hand to knock on the window, usually he would let himself in, but what if they started locking it? Like they were scared of him? Reluctantly, he knocked on the window, waiting for them to open it.

Mark suddenly became hyperaware of the seconds it took them to answer, questioning if it was hesitation? Should he leave now and never come back?