pairing: hockeyplayer!mark x reader genre: fluff, angst warnings: some swearing word count: 14.6k synopsis: to most people, mark lee was the golden boy. to you, he was just the dork who tried to eat your red crayon in kindergarten. even though kindergarten was a long time ago, the two of you have never been apart. until one day you both realise that you are heading in completely opposite directions after senior year. mark however, refuses to talk about college, claiming he doesn’t want to think about his life without you in it. but ignoring it isn’t going to make it any less real. →part of the “game, set match” universe
i. the golden boy has a terrible memory
Mark groaned, turning in his spot to march back upstairs once more and grab the textbook that he just remembered he’d left open on his desk. Day one of senior year and he’d already had to go back to his room three times to do various things he’d forgotten. The first time he ran up it was to brush his teeth, the second time was to put his watch on, and now for this damn economics textbook. And out of all subjects it just had to be econ, Mark’s least favourite. If he could he would skip it but, as much as Mark hated econ (the subject made zero sense and his teacher had an unprovoked vendetta against Mark and seemed to take pleasure making his life hell) he needed a good grade in it, otherwise, he faced getting cut from the team.
Mark sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder one last time, checking around to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything, thinking to himself that if he had to come back here a fourth time, he was giving up for the day. He paused briefly in his doorway, grabbing his door and shutting it behind him. He jumped down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and shouted a quick goodbye to his mum before heading out the front door.
And it was only once he had shut the front door that he realised he hadn’t packed his laptop. Senior year hasn’t even officially started yet, and it has already gone wrong one too many times for his brain to handle at 7am on a Monday morning. Mark audibly groaned, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against his door, a soft bang sounding from the moment his head connected with the hard wood.
“Damn, already? You know you’re meant to be like this in exam season right? Not quite on day one.”
Mark visibly perked up at the sound of your voice, a small burst of energy running through him as he turned in his spot to see you smiling up at him, eyebrows raised only slightly judgmentally.
