i. cherish
Sitting on the couch watching a movie becomes such a different experience with Luther's arms around his waist. The way he holds Mark snugly but gently, absently kissing his hair from time to time, tracing little patterns on his hands – something about it is just so different from being held by anyone else. It makes Mark feel fragile, almost. Not vulnerable, but special. Priceless. Cherished. He could never try to explain this, not to himself, not to Luther, and not to Tim. But it was there. Tim can make him feel so many things, but he never holds him like this, like he's the most precious thing on the planet. So Mark snuggles back into Luther's chest and pretends for a moment that they're the only people on earth.
ii. safe
Even New York can be dangerous for the homosexual community, as Mark knows too well from visits to the hospital after some jackasses beat up a friend or a friend's partner. He's not ashamed, but walking down the street holding hands with another guy seems so daunting sometimes. But then sometimes, he'll step outside, and Tim will grab his hand, and suddenly there's not a thing in the world that can hurt him. Tim is strong, and protective, and he'd never let someone hurt him. Mark knows, in the back of his mind, that Tim could get beaten just the same as anyone else, but that doesn't matter. With Tim, he doesn't have to be afraid. He's safe.
iii. mischievous
"Bombs away!" Luther calls before dropping the overly-full water balloon out the window onto a group of tourists who were pouring over a map, trying to figure out where they are. He ducks back in before they start cursing, before they can look up and see him. Mark, hanging out the next window over – too far to have been the one with the balloon – bites his lip to keep from laughing.
"You're evil." He says as Luther comes over to peek out the window with him. The tourists were grumbling, and they moved away from the window Luther had been at.
"Yeah, well, it was your idea." Luther points out, and Mark grins as he aims and gets the tourists even wetter than they were before.
iv. creative
"It's beautiful." Mark whispers after the echoes of Tim's voice have faded from the apartment. Tim's newest song, not quite perfect, so he says, and Mark can only sit in shock. It makes him want to create something, to visually capture that song on film, somehow.
"It's okay." Tim shrugs and frowns. "The bridge needs work. It's still sort of forced." Mark shakes his head but doesn't say anything. He knows it won't do any good to tell Tim that no one else in the world would notice anything wrong with the bridge. So instead he busies himself with plans to make a short film to go with that song, and how exactly he could capture in images the feeling that rushed through him as Tim sang.
v. complete
There are moments – few and far between, but there nonetheless – when Tim and Luther aren't fighting. Usually they're asleep, it's true... curled up on either side of Mark in bed – never after sex, because they refuse to do that, but neither would let the other be the only one in Mark's bed at night – or with Mark between them on the couch. And in those moments, Mark can say that he is truly content. He can't seem to get anyone to understand why he puts up with both of them, why he doesn't just pick one, so he doesn't have the stress and pain of watching them fight every day. But if they could be here, where he is, in those moments... then they'd understand. Being with them, both of them, is when he feels complete. When he feels like he's enough, like he's not a failure, like he can be whoever and whatever he wants – and he wants to be nothing but who he is.
Lying awake in the middle of the night with Tim pressed against his back and his face buried in Luther's chest, both of their arms around his waist – that's when Mark feels complete. And that's why he could never leave.