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The night was quiet save for the quiet whoosh of cars as they drove down the street. You rested your hand on your hands, leaning against the windowsill. The glass was cold against your forehead. You didn’t mind it, though. It helped clear your head a little bit.
You half-turned when Mindy shifted against the bed.
Yes, you had managed to get the Mindy Park. And she had managed to get the Mark Watney. And he had fallen in love with you and her, and she with you and him, and you with him and her, happy family, quelle surprise.
Except it wasn’t a quelle surprise. Not really, anyway. Mark and Mindy were inevitable. What could be more romantic than them, honestly? The woman who discovered that he was alive. What was it that she called herself? His Peeping Tom? Literal star-crossed lovers.
You were the outlier.
Mindy shuffled in her sleep again, waking halfway. You turned to watch her, your eyes scanning the hairs splayed across her face. She smiled tenderly at Mark and pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose (to the part that he had broken as a kid playing baseball, the part you always kissed because you knew he was always stupidly insecure about it despite it being the most attractive part of him) before dropping back off to sleep. Mark, having awoken, gently dragged his thumb over the small acne scars on her cheeks. He turned his head to you, staring at you. You couldn’t discern his expression.
You stared back. The wind coming in through the window ruffled your clothing.
Mark shut his eyes, letting out a sigh before slipping back into sleep. And, in some weird way, it hurt . Where was the Mark who would have stood from the bed, padding in socked feet to you? The one who would’ve scooped you up in his arms and pressed kisses to your jaw and broken down your walls enough to talk to him?
You knotted your hands over your stomach like you had a stomach ache. And maybe you did. You weren’t sure of anything anymore. With a stifled sigh, you wiggled your pillow from underneath Mindy’s shoulders. Your blanket was a lost cause.
You were relegated to the couch, then. How … awesome.
You threw the pillow down onto the couch, turning away from the framed photo of the three of you holding hands. Your sleep was uneasy and fitful; you were awake more often than not. You awoke almost as soon as you fell asleep to the sound of Mindy puttering around in the kitchen. She was humming a song that you were too tired to recognize, her hair messily strewn around her shoulders. You came up behind her.
“Hey, good morning!” Mindy was chipper, which was a rarity. She was usually snarky before she woke up properly. “Are you gonna be mad if Mark and I go out to the new coffee shop down the street? Our schedules have finally aligned. Finally .”
Oh, yeah, no. What could you say? ‘Sure! I’ll go fuck myself, then Min!’ Or maybe, ‘sorry, Mark and I wanted to go eat lunch together and go downtown today but I just know he’ll ditch me for you so why bother bringing it up?’
Which, wow, your communication sucked . The three of you normally had good communication, but you supposed … well, who knew what you supposed , but you were feeling really insecure and that was really messing with your will to communicate.
“Totally. Have fun.”
Mindy grinned at you, then beamed wider as Mark padded into the kitchen. His shirt was askew, rumpled up near his waist.
“Wanna get coffee?” Mindy asked him as soon as he opened his eyes.
“You know I do,” Mark said. “Wanna grab lunch together later, too?”
“At that expensive place?”
“You know I can afford it.”
“Okay, Mister Astronaut,” Mindy said, and then moved to kiss him. You hide your expression by going to the cupboards to pretend to grab a glass, to get yourself some juice or coffee or—whatever. Just, whatever. Fuck this weird blend of “I’m famous and rich and want everything for you!” flirting they had.
“I can’t help but feel like I’m forgetting something,” Mark mused.
“Yeah, me,” you didn’t say. You set the glass down, a bit more harshly than you intended.
“You’re so clumsy,” Mindy murmured, an indulgent half-smile on her face.
“Hah,” you replied, putting the glass away. You had lost the urge to grab something to drink. “Yeah.”
“We’re gonna head out,” Mark said thoughtfully, stretching his arms out over his head. “Maybe once we get back we can all watch a movie together.”
Oh, yeah, that’s what you wanted. You weren’t sure where this resentment was coming from. You normally loved movie nights; having Mark’s arm wrapped around your shoulders while Mindy lay her head in your lap was usually an excellent way to destress. Mostly you just wanted to sit down on the couch and cry a bit.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Mark threw a startled look at you. So did Mindy. You sighed.
“Have fun.”
“We will,” Mindy said, smoothing the tension over. “And we’ll bring you something back, don’t worry. It’ll be good.”
As Mindy went to slip her shoes on, Mark lay his warm hand on the nape of your neck. “I noticed you didn’t give us a goodbye kiss.”
“I wasn’t aware you still wanted to kiss me,” is what you didn’t say. Instead, you smiled tersely at the glasses. “My mistake.”
He turned you around to face him and pressed a solid kiss to your lips. His jaw was scratchy; no doubt he had elected to lounge around in bed for a while instead of shaving. “I missed you in bed. I woke up and my back was all cold.”
“I, uh … wasn’t able to sleep,” was what you settled on. “Kept tossing and turning. Didn’t want to wake you guys, so I just went to sleep on the couch.”
Mark pressed another firm kiss to your lips, not saying anything for a long while. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”
“Mhm. I’ll tidy up. Or something.”
“Or you could do something fun. There’s a new movie out, right? Maybe you could go see that?”
“Maybe.”
He pulled away, patting your shoulder and following Mindy out the door. You saw them laughing down the street, his calloused hand holding hers. She knocked him upside the head the way she did with you (but affectionately with him, always affectionate, always him ) and that’s when the tears started flowing. It took you by surprise. Your brows furrowed as you choked back sobs.
Because what the hell were you even crying over, really? You pictured yourself saying “oh, yeah, no, don’t worry, I’m only crying because I feel super fucking lonely about the fact that my partners seem to love each other more than me.” Which, wow, you really needed to talk to someone about that.
The door opened and you straightened, pretending to be busy wiping down the counter. You forced your shoulders to relax.
“Left my keys!” Mark exclaimed. “Oops.”
You didn’t say anything. The lump in your throat rose up and if you were asked a question or compelled to say anything … well, it would be better if you weren’t.
“Love you,” he called over his shoulder, not waiting for your reply. The door closing felt colder than usual.
“Love you,” you managed to the door.
And so the rest of the day passed like molasses. You tidied up (the dishes were Mindy’s job, but she usually could get you to help by batting her eyelashes at you), vacuumed (your job, but not so bad because Mark would take your hands and help you with it (and even if he made your job harder, well, it was Mark )), and watered the plants (Mark’s job, and one he never wanted anyone to do—oh, he never said anything, but his left eyebrow always twitched when you or Mindy so much as breathed on the damn things—but the leaves of the chrysanthemums had turned yellow). You took a quick break to sit on the couch.
The door opened again. Mindy and Mark walked in at the same time, arms slung around the other’s shoulders.
“What’s for dinner?” Mark asked, toeing off his shoes. Mindy followed suit.
You froze. Dinner … shit. It totally slipped your mind. “Um…” What was something easy…? Fuck, why were you blanking? It was just dinner.
“We could just go out,” Mindy offered. She sat down next to you, patting your shoulder. She had painted her nails a reddish-orange, shaping them into a nice oval shape.
“Let’s go to uh, that place a few blocks away,” Mark suggested, sitting down next to Mindy. “What’s it called? The Angus Star? I’m in the mood for a burger.”
“Why not,” you said.
“You don’t seem very enthusiastic,” he pointed out.
“Let’s just go.”
And so you all left. You walked behind MIndy and Mark, who were still (somehow) holding hands. It’s like their hands were fused together.
“You have fun?” Mark asked you, craning his head back.
“I guess.”
“We had lots of fun,” Mindy said with a smile in her voice. “They were giving out free chocolate cake with each coffee.” She walked in silence for a little while before stopping, a frown twisting at her mouth. “Oh. Shit. We didn’t bring something back for you. Sorry.”
Yeah, you figured. “It’s cool.”
“Shame. It was delicious.”
Wasn’t that just salt in the wound? “I’ll bet it was.”
“I’ll get you something next time,” Mindy said, trying to smooth things over. She probably noticed the awkward dip in the conversation that you didn’t seem too eager to fill. “It’ll be even better than chocolate cake.”
What would be even better than chocolate cake would be to be left alone for a little while to cry. Or not being forgotten about in the first place.
“I guess,” you said dryly.
Mark, whose people skills were far more developed than Mindy’s, clasped a hand on your shoulder. Changing the topic entirely, he said: “You have no idea how pretty Mindy is with a flower behind her ear.” He pulled out his phone to show you approximately twelve thousand pictures of Mindy smiling, laughing, and blushing, with a daisy tucked into her hair (he probably snagged it off of someone’s lawn). Despite your unceasingly bad mood (you feared it would be chronic), it was cute. Mindy had a way of being absolutely adorable without realizing it. It was one of the things that had drawn you to her, and a smile twitched at your lips as you thought about your first meeting and how she had held a pen up to her lips, hair falling over her eyesー
“Very nice.”
“I knew it would make you smile,” Mark murmured, putting his phone away. That immediately made your smile drop a little; you turned your head to hide it.
Way to go, communication skills.
You let them go on ahead, wrapping your arms around yourself. Mindy stopped and waited until you caught up. Mark followed suit.
“You cold?” she asked, laying her hand on your arm. They were awfully touchy today … it was almost disconcerting. Disconcerting in how much you had missed it, honestly.
“No.”
She ran her hand down your arm, the sleeves of Mark’s hoodie brushing against you. “I’d offer you my sweater, but Mark said ‘keep it, it’s yours’, and…”
“Yeah.”
“Will you say something other than monosyllabic sentences?”
“No.”
Okay, no you were just being childish and you knew it.
“Come on, talk to us,” Mark said, slowing down. The restaurant was just a few streets away. You stared longingly in its direction.
“Just tired.”
“You’re always just tired. Just talk to us! Please!”
There was a sudden squeal. “Mark Watney!”
You all turned your heads. There was a girl, maybe ten, her hair in high pigtails that arced off of her head. You were, privately, grateful for your interruption. You then immediately felt guilty for feeling grateful: one of the worst things about being famous, Mark had complained, was that he was never entitled to privacy anymore. He was fine with kids, but if another asshole thirty-year-old came up to him, he …
“Can I get a picture?”
And somehow Mark was all smiles, the crease between his brows fading into a beam. “Sure thing!” he exclaimed, posing with her. He pulled Mindy to him, and her smile was part bemused and fond. Of course, you weren’t pulled in.
With a bright “thanks!” she skipped away down the street.
“She was cute.” Mindy pushed her hair back from her face, smoothing out her clothes. You lingered on the sidelines.
“She was. I love kids,” Mark said with a small smile. It was true. At family gatherings, he was the cousin who played with the younger kids, let them draw on him, and otherwise chase after him.
“Me too. Think we should have some of our own?”
“Hmm. I’d like that. A few tykes of our own!” Mark rubbed Mindy’s arm, his smile widening. Obviously, your feelings on this didn’t matter, so you could go fuck yourself. (Wow, you were bitter today. Maybe you should just go home and go back to bed, redo the day.)
“Would they take my last name or yours?”
“Which is more famous?”
‘Mine, duh! Our kids’ll be able to brag about how their dad survived Mars.”
You tuned their banter out, fiddling with your hands. You were losing your appetite and your stomach felt like it was the size of a rock. What if you wanted kids? What if you didn’t? Why didn’t it matter?
“You know,” you interrupted them, before you could second-guess the part of you screaming that it was a bad idea, “maybe I should go home.”
Both Mark and Mindy turned their heads to look at you.
“I mean, I don’t want to interrupt ,” you muttered, unable to keep the hurt annoyance out of your voice. “So I’ll just take my leave.”
“Whoa, hey, where’s this coming from?” Mark asked, immediately shifting to concern. It would’ve been endearing if you weren’t so, so… “You know you’re never interrupting us.”
“Yeah?” you asked sardonically. “Okay, let’s change the topic. What am I, if I’m not enough to be noticed but not enough to not be noticed?”
And then you knew you were losing. You were blabbering, your throat hitching. All the things you wanted to say, all the things you felt , and you didn’t even know how to say them in a way that made sense.
“What?” It was Mindy who asked the question, her brows furrowed.
“I mean, like, when Mark was gonna go out with me today and then decided to not because you asked him and, I guess, he prefers it to go out with you?”
“I love you, but I can’t know things unless you tell me.” If it was even possible, Mindy’s frown deepened. “I didn’t know you and Mark were gonna go out today.”
Mark raised his hands placatingly. “It’s my fault, okay? I forgot. That’s on me. I’m sorry.”
You were too irritated to let his attempts at smoothing things over work on you. “You forget an awful lot.”
“We should discuss this at home,” Mindy muttered. The woman who had craned her head to look at the three of you hurried away, chastised.
The three of you walked home in a stony silence. You opened the door, shutting it behind the three of you. You slipped your shoes off and Mark and Mindy put theirs next to yours.
“What the hell was that?” Mindy asked, her brows drawn. She sat on the couch. “Where’s this all coming from?”
Suddenly, you were pissed off again. “Where’s what coming from? It’s no secret that the two of you prefer the other over me. What the hell am I even here for, huh?”
“We love you, but why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Mindy snapped back. “Why didn’t you communicate with us sooner instead of letting it all build up?”
“It’s not like you guys were around to hear it! You’re both always busy with each other, or being famous, or—”
“Once again, how were we supposed to know—”
“Maybe if you just bothered to ask instead of carrying on like always, I wouldn’t feel—”
Mark clapped his hands. “This is unproductive. Also, I don’t like seeing us fighting.” He turned to you, his eyes softening. “So it seems like you feel neglected, right?”
“Right.”
“And Mindy is right. You should’ve talked to us sooner.” He rubbed your shoulder, putting a finger up to your mouth at your sharp intake of protest. “But … you’re talking to us now. That’s good.”
Some of the tenseness left your shoulders. “Yeah.”
“And it’s not good that you feel that way. I’m sorry. I know us being famous and you being, well, not famous, has strained our relationship a lot.” Mark’s voice was soothing and calm. For someone always ready with a joke, he was deadly serious now. He pulled you to him and you had missed his touch too much to pull away. “How long have you been feeling like this?”
“I dunno. A month, maybe?” You cleared your throat at the way Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “It was after the anniversary of when you came back to Earth. When you both got busy again. It wasn’t so bad the other, y’know, months. When people kinda forget.”
Mindy had sat down on the couch, squinting up at you (she had left her glasses in the bedroom and was seemingly too lazy to get them.) She tilted her head. “I thought we had good communication.”
“I dunno, I guess it caught me by surprise. And it’s not like I wanted you guys to call me jealous, or anything,” you said with a sheepish smile. “And it felt so dumb that I couldn’t talk about it.”
Mark pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek. “You know you can always talk to us about this stuff. Even if it feels dumb.”
Mindy came up behind you, running her hands down your back soothingly.
“If it helps, I don’t have any “Mark Watney is so awesome” meetings until next week. Unless we schedule one for tonight…?” Mark said, grinning against your front. You turned to swat at his cheek; he caught your hand and pressed a kiss to your hand.
It wasn’t a fix, but it was a start. A good start, even, that needed a bit more communication. For the first time in a month, the tense set of your shoulders had relaxed.
“Let’s go get dinner,” Mindy said, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “I’m still hungry and I need to buy you dessert to make up for earlier. Maybe two desserts.”
Somehow, you could live with that.