Cells interlinked.

A key phrase in the baseline test designed by the Global Defense Agency to detect emotional responses in superheroes, like distress or empathy from their job.

..

And since the death of his mother, and his father disappearing into the depths of space—having gone God knows where, alive or dead—he hadn’t a clue. Mark had become more.. closed off, not allowing himself to feel anything, not even anger. Out of the fear of being just like Omni-Man, just like his father.

So naturally, one might assume he’d ace this “baseline test.”

..right??

..

”Mark, you’re not even close to baseline.” Cecil had told him, just yesterday after his monthly mandatory baseline test.

And it’s not like he could help it. All he could think about the entire time? You, no matter the question.

What’s it like to hold the hand of the person you love? Mark recalled all those times you’d held his hand, from simply walking together—to the times you’d intertwine your fingers with his to comfort him after a fight.

Do you dream about being interlinked? Yes. All the damn time, he’d find himself daydreaming—about you.

He’s not supposed to feel this way, right? He’s Invincible, for fucks sake. He doesn’t have the time for love.

It’s not like it was about looks, or even simply just his hormones going absolutely nuts. It’s just.. you, being you, and it drives him insane.

You’d helped him realize so much about his life, stuff that Cecil couldn’t even bring himself to do.

You’d helped him feel human, not like a viltrumite, or some weapon for the GDA. But like a real person, Mark Grayson. And the countless times you’ve reassured him that he’s nothing like his father, nor will he ever be.

And.. it’s not like Mark would admit to Cecil that you were at fault for all of this, would he? Hell no.

But sometimes, maybe Mark didn’t like feeling this way. Because it’s all he’ll ever think about, and it’s mussing up his work. Obviously Cecil and all his other friends and colleagues have caught onto his weird behavior by now, but they haven’t a clue that it’s all you.

..

Right now, Mark came over to your apartment during his lunch break—he only had about an hour, but he was going to give you all of his time—that wasn’t even a question. Something about being around you made him feel normal again, like when he was still young, human. The years before his father murdered his mother, and abandoned him.

Mark groaned, pulling off his mask and plopping down onto the couch. He didn’t have to say a word, it was written all over his facial expression, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

He was exhausted, confused, and conflicted all at the same time. And it was obvious that he hated it, he wasn’t used to feelings like these.

“..hey.” Mark muttered, reluctantly waving his hand at you—his fingers rough and calloused. Although he couldn’t meet your gaze..