"Hey, you're the Irish exchange student, right?" Bob asks, handing him a can of coke.
"Half-right," Jack says, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. "We moved here from Ireland. Signe's the exchange student. People keep gettin' that mixed up."
They're in the basement of Bob's house, it's crowded by instruments and old furniture, including a single bar stool and an old couch pushed into the corner, on which Jack goes to sit.
"Sorry," Bob says, pushing up his glasses. "Well, Wade said he met you Friday and instantly wanted you for the band, so you've gotta be good, huh."
In fact, Wade was supposed to be here as his buffer, but got sick the day before - leaving Jack to the audition alone. Luckily for him, Bob's pretty cool, so it's far less awkward than it could be.
"I guess, we'll have to wait 'n' see," Jack says, then nods at the guitar in Bob's hands. "You're the bassist?"
"Yeah, I have no real musical talent," Bob laughs, "but I'm passable at bass, thus Mark dubbed me the bassist. Sorry about the room, by the way, my parents are the only ones that let us play."
"Nah, It's cool," Jack says, "thanks for the coke."
"No problem," Bob says, smiling, "you can show us what you got as soon as Mark gets down here."
"Already here, Bobby m'boy!"
Jack turns, and is faced with a strange rush of something at the sight of this Mark guy. Probably because of how close he's standing to him.
"Whoa."
"Oh hi, I'm Mark, I sing and write lyrics and stuff," Mark says, taking a step back and sticking out his hand. His voice is deeper than Jack would've expected it to be. "You're Sean, right? You're gonna be in our band?"
"Jack, actually," he corrects as he shakes Mark's hand, feeling lightheaded. "And… you haven't even heard me play yet."
"Oh!" Mark smiles warmly, then sidesteps. "Sorry man, go ahead!"
"Um, anything in particular? Any styles?" For some reason he can't stop staring dumbly at this Mark guy. With his stupid shark-fin hair, and his stupid eyes, and his stupid big friendly smile, and his stupid hot voice. It has to be because of how stupid it all is. Definitely.
"Whatever you like, man," Mark says, and there's that warm smile again.
Jack goes and sits at the drumkit, and, with one last look at Mark, he plays.
They gel pretty quickly, him and Mark. He's shy about letting Jack see his lyrics at first but once he does Jack swears he can practically hear the songs.
He gives suggestions about moving some lines around, and when he tries out a simple beat Mark starts humming along, and when Ethan comes down he starts working out the guitar and bass sections immediately.
After that first night of practise, Mark beams at him like he's made of magic and insists that Jack comes to his place the next day. And Jack - with his heart caught in his throat - of course he's not going to say no.
He realises he's pretty much doomed from here on out.
"So you'll do it right? You'll be in the band?" Mark asks, eyes trained on Jack like if he looks away he'll bolt. They're standing on the porch of Mark's house, waiting for Jack's brother to come pick him up. They've just finished their second band practise, and Jack has to admit that they sound pretty good.
"Well.. I didn't just come here for the food," he says, scratching the back of his head. He looks down at the sealed container of leftovers Mark's mom insisted that he take. "But I'll have to next time if your Mom makes whatever this is called again, yum."
"Kimbap, Wade likes it too so she always makes it for lunch when he's over," Mark tells him, then tilts his head, "So that's a yes?"
"O' course it's a yes," Jack smiles. He sees his brother's car drive into the street. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Yeah, great! Y'know, we're gonna be really awesome." Mark tells him, sounding so sincere that Jack can't help but to believe him. Mark grins widely and, for some reason, ruffles Jack's hair before heading back inside.
Jack tells his brother to shut up when he asks why he's blushing.
"If one more douchebag asks me to play with his drumstick, I'm quittin' the band."
"Jack noo," Mark says blandly, staring at his phone. "This is gonna be our Behind The Music breakup, isn't it? It was all over after one gig at a sleazy bar."
"I'm surprised they even let us play," Bob says, loading a speaker into the back of the van. "Tell Danny those fake IDs were legit."
"Yeah, maybe too legit," Jack says, shuddering. "Agh, one guy's breath smelt like alcohol, vomit, and regret - how'd they miss the whole underage thing up close and personal? I'm practically prepubescent!"
Bob tilts his head. "Yeah, you look sixteen, and some guys are into that," he says, cringing. "Creepy guys."
Mark peeks up from his phone to look at Jack. "Nobody like, touched you or anything, right?"
Jack looks at him, noting the hint of concern in his voice. "Nah, there wasn't no bad touch, thankfully."
"Good," is all Mark says, looking down again. "Or I'd'a, you know…"
Jack clasps his hands together and bats his eyelashes at him. "Would you've defended my honour, Markipoo?"
What Mark says sounds like 'shut up' as he turns away with a blush forming on his cheeks, but what Jack hears is 'yes'.
They got close to it once, earlier on. They were drunk and camping out in someone's living room between shows. Wade and Ethan were passed out on the couches, snoring, while Bob had opted to sleep in the van. Jack was seventeen, and at the time he thought underage drinking made him cool as shit.
"You know, you're my best friend, Jack," Mark had said sincerely. He was glassy eyed and his face was all red, it tended to get really flushed whenever he drank.
"Dude," Jack said, leaning up on his elbow. "You're like, my first best friend ever . But you're also the best one. Y'know what I'm sayin'?"
"Yeah," Mark agreed, rolling onto his side to face Jack properly. Without his glasses and his hair all mussed up he looks really young, and sort of vulnerable.
"I never wanna lose that, you know?" Mark went on." What we have… it's different, it's ours, it's... special."
Ordinarily Jack would have laughed at that, cheesy as it is, but being an emotionally drunk teenager, and Mark looking at him like he meant every word - he took it to heart.
"Yeah," Jack sighed, and Mark moving in closer felt like another reality, a slower one where all Jack could do was lean in too and close his eyes.
Then Wade snorted really loudly, and Mark just laughed and laid back down as if nothing world-shattering was just about to happen.
And at that moment, Jack remembers thinking to himself, 'oh no, I really love him'.
They have a hit on their hands, their manager says. They don't believe it till they're out on the road, and Bob turns up the radio. Wade nearly swerves them off the road in shock.
The opening line; I was crawling around in my head in the haze of a trance…
Mark catches Jack's hand and starts singing along loudly, at stoplights and in backstreets. And it's the last time they drive to a show in that shitty van.
Jack sighs and sets down his drumsticks. Wade and Ethan jostle the bus from the outside, trying to push it out of a ditch as Bob revs the engine.
"Y'know what they say," Jack says, "if the bus is a-rockin'..."
"I've got my cock in," Mark finishes, grinning at Jack from across the table.
"You're such a moron," Jack says, but he's laughing too, and looks out the window just in time to see Ethan charge at the bus. "Although, not as moronic as those two, apparently."
"I dunno, I kind of admire their optimism."
Wade slams onto the bus then, huffing and sweaty as he looks at them with wide eyes. "You guys have just been sitting here this whole time?!"
"Hey, we helped!" Jack says, leaning back. "Like, the first couple o' minutes."
"Then we realised that none of us have the manpower to move this thing," Mark chimes in, and flexes his arm out at Wade. "Not even my huge muscley manliness could help, it's hopeless."
Jack mentally congratulates himself for only glancing at Mark's bare arm as he nods. "Y-yeah! Not our fault ya idiots are still trying."
"Well we need to do something!" Wade says exasperatedly, a hand pressed to his forehead. "We have no freaking reception and we're out in the middle of nowhere!"
"Actually," Jack starts slowly just as Ethan clambers back onto the bus, "I got a signal and called a local tow company."
"And you didn't think to tell us that?" Ethan's skinny form slumps right onto the table. "I can't feel my arms. Or my legs. Or most of my upper body."
"We liked watching you try." Mark shrugs, petting Ethan's blue head consolingly. "It was admirable... in a sorta fruitless way."
"And I really thought you had it like eleven minutes in," Jack adds, nodding at Wade who is just watching them with quiet rage. His eye's twitching - does it normally do that? "So at least I believed in you."
Jack dyes his hair green in the middle of their tour, and Mark decides dying his red would be cool. Wade says they look like Christmas one night on stage between songs.
"Form of - mistletoe!" Mark says, coming 'round to Jack behind his kit and shaking his hair in his face. Jack laughs and shoves him back playfully, and the crowd loves it, cheering.
"I need a haircut, man," Mark says. "Hey Jack, what would your superhero name be?"
"Um," Jack says into his rarely-used mic. "JackSepticEye's what they called me in Ireland, 'cause I had a septic eye once, and m'name's Jack."
"Mine is Markiplier, apparently." Mark shrugs as the crowd cheers. "That was my username on myspace I think, like eighty years ago. The fans found it. Meeerkiplier."
"Those are both shit hero names," Bob says, strumming his bass as the crowd laughs. "You'd be shit super heroes. Mark Septic Plier Tank? The hell is that? Besides, you're both too short."
"Hey!" Ethan says indignantly, and someone in the crowd screams "I love you Ethan!"
"Eh, whatever, shush, shush ," Mark commands, waving his hands down. Once the crowd is quiet enough, he leans in and sings the first lines of one of their sillier songs, "Hate to tell you honey, but Wilford Warfstache killed a man…"
"Ohh home sweet not-the-road!" Mark exclaims as soon as he's through the door, making his way towards the kitchen and flopping onto the counter. "Oh, overpriced kitchenette, I've missed you so."
"Dude, I forgot you had a house!" Jack says as he walks in after him. "And a kitchen!" He glances at Mark and goes to hug the fridge since the counter's taken.
"I forgot what not having to disinfect every surface before you touched it was like," Mark says, voice muffled.
Jack opens the fridge and sighs. "I forgot food wasn't only provided by truckstops and questionable club owners."
"I forgot that you guys don't shut up," Tyler yells from the living room. "Like. Ever."
"Tyler!" They both say excitedly, and run to greet him. It's an awkward six-armed hug, but they manage.
"Aw," Mark says, "I forgot what having a surly roommate dictating my every move was like."
"Hey Tyler!" Ethan says, opening his arms to join the group hug.
"Wait, never mind," Mark grunts as he's crushed between them all. It's a good day.
"I guess the songs are okay, but babe, do they have to be so… down ?" Mel makes a sad pouty face, as though Mark can just rewrite the whole album for her when they're at a party celebrating that it just went platinum. God, Jack hates her.
"Ah-hum, well the songs are pretty personal, yeah," Mark says, looking down at his drink. "I thought "Calling Doctor Schneeplestein" was pretty upbeat though."
"Yeah I guess," she says with a grimace. "The drum solo was a bit much - no offense Jack, but yeah."
"Oh, offense taken, Mel," Jack says, a fake grin plastered on his face as he sips his drink - whiskey and coke - and murmurs, "Ya shady bitch ," into his glass. If Mel hears this she doesn't show it, and proceeds to ignore him like she usually does.
She's entwining her pinky with Mark's, using her cutesy voice as she says, "C'mon babe, I'm dying for a drink." Mark looks to Jack for some reason, opening his mouth like he has something to say before she drags him away.
Eventually Wade comes over, bottle of beer in his hand as he leans against the wall beside Jack.
Wade bumps him with his shoulder. "You holding up okay, buddy? I feel like you've had that glass half-full all night."
Jack barely hears him, watching Mel parade Mark around the room like a trophy. "Is it just me, or is she the worst?"
"Who?" Wade asks, then follows Jack's line of sight and rolls his eyes. "Oh."
Jack turns to him at that. "What?"
"Nothing," Wade says, taking a swig of his beer. "Only... you know you say that about all the girls he dates, right?"
"I do not," Jack says indignantly, setting his glass down. "I thought Amy was cool." She was a sound tech on their first big tour. Her and Mark's relationship lasted a few months, then just when it seemed to get serious Amy ended it. It was also around that time that Jack met Felix.
"Yeah, after she married Kathryn and moved to Connecticut."
"She was cool before that!"
"Before she dated Mark, you mean," Wade says, a small smile on his face. "Then it was all, 'man, has Amy been kind of an asshole lately, or what'. don't you remember?"
"This is different. Mel has her head shoved so far up her own ass I'm surprised she can still communicate verbally," Jack says, and unconsciously starts to fiddle with his wristbands. "Mark doesn't need someone like that. He needs someone that isn't vapid, someone that actually cares about him, that gets him like..."
"Like… you?" The smile is evident in Wade's voice alone.
"Shut up," Jack says, blushing as he picks his drink back up and downs the rest of it. He can feel Wade's eyes on him, but refuses to look up.
"It's okay that you're in love with him, you know," Wade tells him, and Jack swears he can feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. There's no way he can know - he's hidden it so well.
"Wh-what," Jack says quickly, breathlessly, "I don't… you don't… I don't." His hands won't stop shaking so he clenches them at his sides, hoping it goes unnoticed.
Wade places a heavy hand on his shoulder, and somehow it sets Jack at ease, makes him feel a little more grounded.
"It is okay, Jack. You have to know that," is all Wade says, then after a smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder, he walks away, probably to go find Molly.
Jack takes a deep breath, and after a few minutes of settling himself down he decides it's time to go order another drink.
It's not like Jack just pines for Mark and doesn't date other people. There was Signe in high school for like two weeks. Then Robin. And Jack will count Felix even though that never really went anywhere.
So he's not totally pathetic. He just... can't help that his stupid heart doesn't leap at the thought of anyone but Mark.
And if that idiot can't see how gone Jack is like bloody everyone else can, well, he has to figure that it's on purpose.
"It will, Bob, it'll fuck up the band," Jack hears Mark say from the other side of the bus. He thought they were asleep. It's like three in the morning and they have a gig tomorrow, but Jack woke up needing to pee and the great outdoors seemed a fine choice for a toilet.
"You're an idiot if you think something like a real relationship is gonna fuck with the band," Bob says.
Ah, Jack figures they're talking about Mel. They'd broken up just over a week ago, Jack doesn't know the specifics as to why, but Mark hasn't seemed all that upset about it anyway.
"Being in love is a good thing, Mark. You can have good things."
Something about the way Bob says this reminds Jack of what Wade said to him that night at the party. It's okay for you to be in love with him, you know.
"I don't know," Mark says, sighing. "I don't know and I hate that I don't know."
"Look, you guys, together," Bob says, "it just... works. It always worked." Jack hates him a little for this. Since when is Bob so gung-ho about Mark and Mel getting back together?
"And when it doesn't?"
"If anything actually happens because you finally grow some fucking balls," Bob says, and Mark chuckles a little at this. "If something does go wrong. We'll still be a band. You'll still be my friend."
"At least I'll have that going for me," Mark laughs weakly.
"Yeah, at least."
Jack quietly heads back onto the bus, but he doesn't manage much sleep.
The next day, Mel releases a sex tape of her and Mark.
"Oh…" Jack says, and for some reason he can't bring himself to look in Mark's direction. "No it's not like that… we're uh…"
"...Not together... like that," Mark finishes for him, and for a long moment no one says anything. Even the lady interviewing them seems to sense the tension as she glances between them.
"Well the fans sure do "ship" it, haha," she says, tapping her pen against her clipboard. "So, any real romance happening in your lives, or does the touring keep you busy?"
"It does keep us all very busy, but we'd like to keep that sorta stuff personal, regardless," Bob answers, then smiles innocently. "If you don't mind."
"Of course not! It must be so overwhelming having the spotlight suddenly on you," she says, faux-sympathy written all over her face. "Mark, I know you've been dealing with some heavy media attention lately."
"Is that a question?" Jack snaps, already frustrated with how this interview has gone. When he feels everyone's eyes on him he looks away, face flushed.
"It's just that you've all been so... quiet," she says carefully, "Which is understandable, but I'm sure your fans would love a comment from you Mark, and of course from your fellow band members." She smiles, and it reminds Jack of a bloodthirsty shark circling its prey.
"What do you want to know," Mark says finally, eyes downcast. "Did I know she taped it? Did my "fellow band members" watch it?" He looks up at her then, pure fury in his voice. "What? Am I into other kinky shit? Am I really that hung or was it the camera angle? What - what do you want from me."
"This interview's done, that stays off the record," Bob says, putting a hand on Mark's shoulder, to silence or comfort him - Jack doesn't know, maybe both. "You're not using any of it."
The lady laughs - laughs . "You don't get-"
"You're not using any of it," Bob says again firmly, towering over her, and the lady shuts up and nods tightly.
"Well that was…" Jack finds himself saying, but Mark is already standing and walking away.
"Get out," Jack says, trying to pull Mark out of his bunk. "You aren't sulking here the whole goddamn tour, Mark."
"Fuck you, yes I am." Mark resists, rolling away from Jack and - with his extra muscle - manages to pull him halfway into the bunk with him.
"Ow , you fuckin' ass," Jack swears. "Tear my arm out its fucking socket, why dont'cha."
"Hello, Tyler," Ethan says into his phone, sitting at the table on the bus. "Hi, mommy and daddy are fighting again, I'm scared."
"Fuckin' - that's it." Jack climbs the rest of the way into the bunk, squeezing himself into the tight space between the ceiling and Mark's body.
"What're you - get the fuck out, Jack!" Mark squirms, but only manages to fit them closer together. There's a lot of kicking and elbowing but Jack manages to hold Mark down. Even if it's in a precarious, and somewhat suggestive way.
"Dude, I am in prime position to knee you in the balls, do not test me."
"Nevermind," Ethan says loudly. "I actually think they're having sex. Yeah I know right? Finally."
"Shut up!" They both say at once, and Jack manages to pull back a couple inches to stare Mark down.
"The tape isn't your fault," he states simply and firmly as he can.
Mark's face reddens, and he starts pushing at Jack in earnest. "You don't know what you're talking about, Sean -"
"The questions aren't your fault either. Fuck's sake, Mark, we're a team. When shit happens to you - it happens to all of us."
Mark sinks back down and avoids Jack's eyes. "Exactly," he says, "and now you guys are catching all the shit meant for me. All our work - our music is ruined because of me ."
"No. That's not what I mean." Jack shakes his head, keeps his hand pressed to Mark's chest to keep him still. "The music is the music, it doesn't matter how people find it, or what they associate it with. It doesn't even matter whether they like it or not." Jack swallows when Mark finally looks up at him. "It is what it is, and one stupid sex tape isn't going to change that."
Mark is silent for a moment, then quietly asks, "And us?"
"The band is us, stupid," Jack says, huffing. "It's our friendship, it's you and me. Would the band be ruined because I fucked like, I'unno, a german horse?"
"Ew, maybe," Mark says cringing slightly, but his tone is light.
"Nah, you'd forgive me, wouldn't ya?" Jack shuffles his body down a bit, but stops when his thigh slides against Mark's. "We'd even write a song about it."
"We probably would," Mark says faintly. "Do you? Forgive me, I mean."
Jack frowns at this. How can Mark possibly believe that any of this is his fault? "Dude, there's nothing that I need to forgive. Mel's a fuckin' bitch and she screwed you over. And even if you yourself released a bajillion freaky sex tapes, I still wouldn't be mad. Horrifyingly impressed maybe, but never mad."
"Yeah?" Mark asks, half-smiling at Jack now in a way that makes his heart get caught in his throat.
"Yeah," Jack says, biting hack the urge to lean down close and brush his lips against Mark's. "Now, me and the german horse on the other hand…"
Mark doesn't say anything to that, but he does pull Jack down into a heartfelt hug. And if Jack maybe savours it for longer than he should, well, that's no one's business but his own.
After the tour ends, they hang out at Mark and Tyler's place in LA, laughing and drinking every night. It's just Ethan and Jack since Bob and Wade flew back to Ohio, so Tyler insists that they crash with him and Mark before their international tour starts.
It feels so normal, like how it was before all the crazy fame and attention.
"You're gonna tell him, right?" Ethan asks when Jack lies down next to him on the pull-out in the living room.
Jack doesn't answer, hopes that Ethan will just think he's drunk and already dead asleep.
"You've gotta, dude," Ethan says anyway, and Jack feels him tug at the sheets when he turns on his side. "You'll be happy."
Jack thinks about it the rest of the night, thinks maybe it's time to get this weight off his chest. But he doesn't think he can. When Jack really thinks about it he loved Mark the minute they met. When he was fifteen. And Jack's man enough now that he can accept that he loves him, probably always will. But he couldn't bare actually saying it and having Mark not feel the same way.
It's better this way, he thinks as he drifts into sleep. Less heartache.
Not an hour later, Tyler is shaking him awake and saying, "Something's wrong with Mark, get up!"
"You moron," Jack says, and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Mark continues to sleep, it's so quiet except for the rhythmic beeps of the machines he's hooked up to. A really cool nurse let him in when she saw he was practically lying on the floor in the waiting room.
Jack sent the others home after everything was sorted, but couldn't bring himself to leave.
"Do you even know how bad I would've killed you if you died," he says to Mark's sleeping face. His chest hurts at just the sight of the tubes in his nose and dark bags under his eyes. "Like, super dead."
Mark collapsed, turns out his usual minor reaction to alcohol wasn't so minor at all. It did something to his heart. Jack only got the gist of it - that Mark plus alcohol from now on is a no-go.
"This is the part where I tell you I… I'm in love with you, or whatever." Jack sniffles and takes his hand in his, careful of the needle stuck in the back of it. "Well nope, in fact, fuck you. You scared the shit outta me. Us. Half your family's flying down tomorrow, by the way."
Mark continues to sleep, his limp hand is heavy and warm in Jack's as he gently holds onto it.
"What would I do without you?" Jack says quietly, then, even quieter, "I do love you, ya fuckin' bastard."
"Are you always this articulate?" Mark's deep voice is gravelly and weak, and his eyes are closed when Jack nearly snaps his neck to look at him.
"Mark?" Jack holds his breath, and then the corners of Mark's mouth lift up to a smile. "Oh you fuckin' asshole!" It takes a lot of willpower to not smack him on the chest.
"Be gentle with me," Mark says meekly, opening his eyes, "my heart stopped or something. I'm delicate." He squeezes Jack's fingers which cause him to blush.
"My ass you're delicate," is all Jack can say. His face feels hot and he'd really like to pull his hand away, but Mark is holding on like a vice.
"Did you mean it?" Mark asks, and for a second it feels like Jack's heart stops.
He can't bring himself to speak, or even look at Mark, as he finally nods minutely.
"Will you please look at me," Mark croaks softly, and his fingers are on Jack's chin, gently turning his face. Their eyes meet, and just fuck Jack's life, it's a goddamn hallmark movie.
"Well," Jack says, though he doesn't know why, and swallows at the lump in his throat.
Mark smiles at him. "That was really cliche," he says, and Jack tugs his hand free, hurt. "But I'm really fucking in love with you, so I'll allow it."
Jack doesn't say anything, can't . But then Mark makes a soft noise and pulls weakly at his hand and Jack goes easily, hugging Mark as carefully as he can. It barely registers that Mark was quoting Hercules when he spoke up, what a nerd.
"I really would have killed you, y'know," Jack says, muffled against Mark's collarbone, he brushes his fingers through Mark's dark hair. "Still might."
"I know, you're totally vicious and scary," Mark says, and his mouth is right against Jack's ear, making it tingle oddly whenever he speaks. "You'll kiss me first though, right?"
Jack lifts his head a bit, and Mark looks so fragile, so tired and hurt. And he loves him, so, so much.
"Right," Jack says softly, leaning down. "I'll kiss you first."
Only he doesn't, as Mark surges up and closes the space between them. His lips are dry and his mouth tastes like chemicals - yet it's undeniably Mark he's kissing - and that's all Jack's ever wanted.