Mark doesn’t know what he’s doing. He never really does when you’re around.

He tries to act normal—tries to say normal things, wear a normal expression—but the second you smile? Yeah. It’s over.

It’s not fair, really. The way you smile like it doesn’t shatter every coherent thought in his head. Like it’s just something you do, not something world-altering. Like he’s not losing his grip on reality every time your lips tug upward and your eyes crinkle like that.

He once tripped over his own feet when you said “hi” with that smile.

Actually tripped. In public.

He still thinks about it.

⸻

You’re just so easy to talk to, and that’s the hardest part.

Because Mark? He’s not smooth. He overthinks everything. He has conversations with himself before they happen and after they’re done, analyzing all the ways he might’ve sounded dumb. And when it comes to you? He can barely hold eye contact for longer than three seconds without combusting internally.

You laugh at something dumb he says, and it loops in his head all day like a song.

He tells himself he’s imagining it. That you’re just nice. Friendly. That someone like you—smart, kind, beautiful—would never actually notice someone like him.

But then you smile at him again.

And for a split second, he thinks, Maybe…

⸻

Mark’s coping mechanisms? Not great. Mostly stammering, pushing his hair back, looking anywhere but your mouth. Making up dumb excuses to talk to you and then blanking the second you say his name.

You call him “Mark” like it’s something gentle. Like you mean it.

He’d never admit it, but he says your name quietly when he’s alone, just to hear how it sounds.

Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to kiss you—what it would feel like to be close enough to feel that smile against his lips instead of just watching it happen across the room.

But for now, he’s content being the quiet boy who shows up a little early to wherever you’re supposed to meet… just in case he gets a few extra minutes of hearing you laugh.

Because to Mark Grayson, your smile is a problem.

And he doesn’t want to be cured.