Mark's house was only a few blocks away from Melanie and Derrick's. Usually, Mark would just ride over and zip me away on his bike. This took a time of five minutes. It was taking me a solid twenty minutes to trudge my way to his house now, mainly because I was willing myself not to give in to my panic and run gasping back to Mel's.

Also, as fate would have it, it was drizzling with cold summer rain.

Thankfully, I had my brains with me so I had opted to wear a sturdy checkered jersey that looked like my grandmother had given it to me with some sinister intent. In reality, it was given to me by my best friend with some sinister intent. However, though it was sturdy and kept most of the rain from soaking to in too fast, it sure didn't stop me from trembling from head to foot.

Well, maybe that didn't have much to do with the rain. But still!

I arrived at Mark's house. It was actually quite picturesque, sort of like a two-storied cottage. It was red-tiled, white, had a blue door and a beautiful front garden with a pebbled path. It was very much like a house you would see on a postcard from Ireland. Didn't make much sense, but there you are.

Mark's room window was fortunately at the front of the house so I didn't have to use any of my nonexistent ninja skills to get to the back of the house. The real problem was that his room was on the second floor and there was no way of getting to his window without making a hell load of noise and waking up the entire neighborhood. After debating for a few moments in the slowly increasing downpour, I decided on my line of course.

He was sitting at his desk when I arrived at his house, and the desk lamp was the only light on in his room. He had been going through our old photographs. Most were ridiculous rather than charmingly pretty due to my unlucky inability of looking good in photos. To make up for my incapability to be photogenic, I usually opted for ruining the photo by making a stupid face or an absurd stance. It didn't really work but at least I was being purposely ugly, as opposed to being 'accidentally' ugly. Mark, however, found this trait of mine very appealing. Reverse psychology, I guess.

My favorite photo was that of us standing beside the lake at camp, hugging. Colin had taken it without us knowing and it had shown his face with a tiny smile as he smelt my hair. His was one of me on his back, sticking my tongue out at him, and him grimacing up at me. It was this photo that he was staring at while I stood outside his window in the pouring rain.

It had been a few days since he'd last called me, and a week and two days since we'd broken up. He had reconciled himself to the fact that I had not forgiven him, but that did not stop him from telling Katarina that he was sorry but he could not accompany her in her test. Some of his emotion were sorrow, but most was anger. Why was I always so stubborn? Why was did it take so much effort to get on my good side? Why didn't I understand that he l…? Such were his thoughts as he sat there. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that when the first knock on the window came, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He crept over to his window and when the next knock came, he realized that it wasn't a knock but a rock hitting the window. He looked out and saw me standing down there.

I couldn't see Mark's face properly but when I saw his shadow at the window, I felt a surge of hope. I called out as loudly as I could without waking anybody up, "Mark! Open your window!"

He did so, curious despite himself. "Ruth?"

"Yes. I need to talk to you."

"And a simple phone call wouldn't have sufficed?" He shook his head. "No Ruth, go home. I don't want to talk to you and you're going to get pneumonia if you stay in this rain for too long. Just go home."

I couldn't tell him that even though a phone call would have sufficed, I didn't want to call him and tell him this. I needed to show him that I cared enough to fight for him and give all the grand displays that his romantic soul liked. I needed for him to know that he was worth more than a phone call to me.

So I shook my head and said, "No. I'm not leaving unless you hear what I have to say."

He scowled. "Then you can stand there and freeze." With that he slammed the window shut and turned his back to it. He didn't move away though, and still the sight of his shadow there gave me some credence. "Mark! Open your window!"

He shook his head and glowered. Why did she have to be so melodramatic? Why couldn't she be like other girls, normal?

Would you have loved her, a little voice spoke slyly, if she was anything but herself?

He firmly shut that part of his mind out as my voice continued to call him from below. "Mark, just listen to me, okay? Open your window!"

He wasn't going to. He'd made his decision already and now he'd see how she liked it when he was the stubborn one.

"Mark, please!"

He wasn't going to. He didn't need her. And he sure as hell didn't want her anymore.
He was just looking through their photographs for one last goodbye.

"Just give me a chance Mark!"

Why? She didn't give him any. She'd ignored every one of his calls and not even given him a chance to apologize.
Mark moved away from his window, stomping to his desk and sitting down, staring blankly at the wall.

"Please Mark!" When his shadow disappeared from the window, my heart sank into the desperate shambles that I'd been trying to stave off. Swallowing my tears, I continued to plead with him. Please Mark. I need you to be the bigger person here. I need you to be the brave one and to do what I didn't. I need you.

"Please open your window!"

From the peripheral of my eye, saw the next-door neighbor's lights turn on and a minute later, the front door open to reveal a middle-aged woman and her husband peering out curiously. But it wasn't their attention I wanted.

"Open your window!"

He put his head on his arms, gritting his teeth. He hated this. He hated her for doing this to him.

"Mark!"

"Mark?"

He started, raising his head to look at his open door. His mother was standing there, with his dad standing behind her blearily rubbing his eyes. "Who's outside?"

Mark turned away. "Ruth."

"What?" she asked incredulously. "Here? Now? It's raining outside. What does she want?"

"She wants me to talk to her." He said, burying his head in his arms again.

"Then go talk to her," his dad spoke up grouchily. "And tell her to stop waking the whole damn neighborhood up." With that, his father dragged his mother off but not before his mom gave him a small smile.

He sighed and looked towards the window. He heard my voice again, this time trembling. "Please, Mark!"

He sighed again, walking towards the window and sliding it up. I stopped shouting at the sight of him leaning out into the rain. "You have five minutes," he told me shortly. "And if you haven't finished by then, whatever. Five minutes I'll stand here, but then I'm going to bed."

"Okay," I gulped and tried to smile. "I'm sorry."

He narrowed his eyes at me but kept his mouth shut. After a short pause, I started again. "I'm sorry for all the bullshit I put you through. I'm sorry for not taking your calls and not even giving you a chance to explain. I'm sorry for doubting you and thinking… and thinking you would even think of doing something like that to me. I'm just… What I'm trying to say is…"

He stopped me. "Let me finish it for you," he said. "What you're trying to say is that you're sorry, and would I please take you back and you'll never do anything like this again, right?" He paused, apparently waiting for a reply. But I kept mute. He continued bitterly, all the hurt he'd been nursing for the last week pouring out of him now. "You tell me, why should I? Why should I go back to putting up with your bullshit and apologizing at every turn and taking care of you and… and… all that? All I got for that was a false accusation. Tell me, Ruth, how that is fair. Give me one good reason why I should come back."

I'd never seen Mark so upset, so hurt. And it physically hurt me to realize that I was the one who'd caused it. But I knew that it was my turn now. It was my time to be the hero.

Suck it up, Ruthie.

"I'm in love with you." My voice trembled when I said it but I had no doubt that my voice carried. He stared at me uncomprehendingly. "I'm in love with you Mark."

For a heartbeat, all was still. Then he slammed the window shut, staring at me through the glass. I gulped down my nausea and practically screamed out, "I'm in love with you, Mark! I love you, and I'm sorry for all that bullshit but I swear that I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me another chance. I love you Mark, I love you!"

He disappeared from his window. This time, I didn't suppress the nausea or the desperate sobs. I'd tried, I lamented, and he still doesn't forgive me. I've lost him, all because I was a stupid insecure girl.

But a second later, Mark's front door flew open and he came running out to meet me. For a split-second we just stood there looking at each other while the rain drenched his shirt through. Then he had wrapped his arms around me and squeezing me 'til my lungs couldn't expand, and breathing into my ear, "I love you too Ruthie, I'm in love with you and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please stop crying, I love you…" I hadn't even realized I was shaking with tears until he said so. I swallowed them away and smiled up at him. He kissed me forcefully, pulling my arms around his neck and hugging me closer still. When he pulled away, we were both breathing heavily and he whispered, "I love you, Ruth."

"I love you too."

He smiled, shutting his eyes. "You little idiot."

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I might get pneumonia."

His laugh was choked out.

Author's note: So? How was the ending? I tried to do this double vision/ POV type of thing and I hope it went across well. And there ends the story of Ruthie and Mark. Their character pics are already picked out and should be up on my profile unless FictionPress decides to keep the ban on all links on this website.

Leave me a review! And do subscribe to read my upcoming oneshot Stacy's Mom which, surprisingly, has nothing to do with the song.