Jack's first impression of the mystery YouTuber was, ashamedly, that he was hotter than he'd expected. "Really awesome to finally see you," he says, taking in the loose hoodie, dark blue jeans and hair that looks neat without him even trying. He's met Cryaotic before during a few group gaming videos, but only over Skype calls and he's never seen his face before. He's now one of the few who can say he recognises him.
"Yeah, I'm honoured to be in the presence of such highly subscribed YouTube gods!" Cry jokes. "Nice place you got here, Mark. I can see the ad rev is running well."
"Get in here," Mark grins, taking his friend by the hood and pulling him into the room. "You asshole."
"Harsh words." Mark rolls his eyes and ducks into the kitchen where he's using his expert cooking skills to heat up popcorn.
"So, wait, he wasn't joking when he said you guys were dating?" Cry gestures vaguely to the kitchen door, looking slightly embarrassed.
"It's something he would joke about, but yeah, we're dating."
"Hope you're not uncomfortable," calls Mark from the other room, and Cry just laughs and sits on the couch. Abruptly, Jack realises he's been staring at Cry. He drops his gaze quickly. No, what am I doing? It's fine to think someone's good looking. Mark does it all the time.
"Recording equipment's all set up," he says cheerily, matching Cry's eye contact without worrying this time.
"Man, this is going to be so fun. I'm really glad I get to play with you guys. It feels like forever since I did a collab."
"Time really gets away from you, huh?" Jack takes a seat on a chair nearby and folds his legs. "Do you do much gaming in your spare time?"
"Not much that I don't record. But I'm very skilled at this game!"
"Bloody Trapland for the win!" Jack cheers.
"It really has been forever since I played it. Hey, where's that popcorn, Mark?" he says loudly.
"Two seconds!"
"Alright! Hey, congrats on ten million, Jack."
"Oh! Yeah, thanks a lot!" Jack beams at the thought. "It's so exciting."
"Well, you've got a pretty cool channel."
Mark returns to the lounge as Jack finds himself flustered by the man's kindness. "Popcorn! Alright, let's do this thing!" He opens his laptop and Jack follows suit as Cry takes his out of his bag.
The general idea, as planned by Mark, was to have a camera on him and Jack while Cry sat to the side. He'd insisted on recording his screen, so all Jack had to do was play along.
"YES!"
"NO! That's not fair, Mark! Stop laughing!" Jack yells across the room at Cry, who's absolutely hysterical at yet another defeat.
"Oh, man, my voice really hurts now," Mark chuckles. Jack had noticed about ten minutes ago that his boyfriend's tone had slipped even deeper and throatier. God, that voice was gorgeous. "Didn't I say that it we'd finish on this level, about three levels ago?"
"Oh yeah. I can't handle being destroyed again!"
"Says we've been running for just over an hour," Cry adds.
"Okay, we're done! I think we can all agree I won." This comment didn't escape without severe complaints from both Mark's friends. "Shush, shush," he says loudly, pointing at them each. "Comment down below, okay? Comment who won!" He gestures downwards, an action that'll only make sense by the time the video's uploaded. "And I will see you in the next video! Buh-bye!"
"That was so unfair, Mark!" Jack says as Cry switches the camera off and closes his laptop.
"Blah blah blah, excuses, excuses. I don't think I've laughed that hard in weeks. Can't wait to edit it!"
"Tell me you're going to cut out the part where I nearly dropped my computer."
"No way in hell."
"Okay, but definitely the part where Chica jumped on me."
"Are you serious? The internet is going to adore that!"
"Mark, c'mon!" Jack tackles the taunting man, who just giggles at his futile attempts to subdue him.
"Jack, he's got a point. That was pretty damn adorable," Cry points out.
"Well, god, if you insist," Jack smiles.
And something odd happens to Mark's expression. It slips just a little bit, and his eyes flick away from Jack's face. He sends him a questioning glance but Mark seems to have shrugged it off already.
"You still love me," he points out.
"Yeah, okay. That's true."
"Final victory!" cheers Mark. "Alright, get off me, my stomach hurts."
"Yeah, I'm gonna throw up if you get any more romantic," Cry says, raising an eyebrow at them.
"You can't handle our love, Cry!" Mark yells, pushing him and Jack back into a sitting position.
"Mark, stop," Jack laughs, embarrassed by his boyfriend's playful attitude.
It happens again. Just the slightest falter in an otherwise happy expression. It lasts a bit longer this time. Jack frowns and Mark leans forward and kisses him quickly on the lips, erasing the uncertainty. "Nope. Won't stop."
Man, he's so in love.
"Tell you what, it's only 11pm," Mark continues. "Do you guys wanna play some Mario Kart?"
"Oh god," the other man laughs. "Yes. Please."
"I'll clean the popcorn bowls," Jack starts to say.
"Nah, I'll get it," Cry interrupts, getting to his feet. He picks up the two large buttery bowls and throws a few stray popcorn kernels into his mouth.
"Set it up, Jack!" Mark says enthusiastically.
Jack gets to his knees and presses a few buttons on the console and the TV it's connected to.
"Hey Jack."
"Yeah?"
"Hey Jack."
"Yes, Mark?"
"Hey Jack."
"Mark, what do you want?!" Jack complains mockingly, still not looking around.
Someone grabs his elbows and pulls him backwards as he shrieks indignantly. Mark's upside-down grin is all he can see.
"Hey Jack."
"What is it," he sighs, defeated but still holding back a smile.
"Love you."
"Is that all, you doof?"
"Say you love me back."
It's all fun and games, but somehow, Jack's suddenly worried he's compensating for something. "Love you, Markimoo."
Mark looks satisfied, and he helps Jack to sit upright again. "Had to check."
"Hey, Mark-"
"I thought you were setting up Mario Kart," Cry says, re-entering the room. Jack can't ask what he was going to ask now.
"On it," he says, pecking Mark on the cheek before pressing one more button. The screen flicks to life and Jack selects Mario Kart off the list of games. "Gotta warn you, me and Mark have spent so much time playing this game, I'm practically a master."
"I barely know how to play!"
"No problem." Jack collapses onto the couch next to him and leans over to inspect his controller, pointing out the different buttons as he chooses a track and racer. Mark tells them he's going to get drinks and disappears into the kitchen.
"Okay. Ready?"
"No!" Cry panics, but Jack starts the course anyway and they lean forward on instinct, tilting their arms and banging their shoulders against each other more than once. Jack wins the first race and Cry complains loudly at his fourth place ranking.
"Oh no, you guys started without me?" Mark asks, coming into the room behind them.
Jack notices he hasn't got any drinks with him, but doesn't think much of it. "Sorry! Just have to teach this noob how to play." Cry nudges him on purpose this time. "You can join the next cup, sound good?"
"Sure." Mark looks oddly disappointed. "I'm gonna grab a blanket."
Cry brings his attention back with a competitive, "I'll beat you on this one!"
"Ha! I'd like to see you try!"
Another hour later, and Jack actually throws down his controller. "This is IMPOSSIBLE!"
"Yeah, the king has claimed his throne!"
"No! No way! You must be more tolerant to late nights or something!" Jack leans his head on the back of the couch and groans in frustration. "Let's stop before I break something."
"If you insist," Cry grins, putting down his controller in a much calmer fashion. "This has got to be the best night I've had in months."
"You flatter me," Jack says jokingly.
"Oh, I try," replies Cry, deepening his voice noticeably. Jack actually feels a shiver run down his spine. I really have a thing for people who talk sexily, don't I?
God, he was tired, he was delirious and there was a good-looking man next to him. He needed a break. "Are you sleeping on the couch?"
"Sadly, yes."
"I can join you, if you'd like. Sleep on the other couch. I'll protect you from the ghosts that haunt this apartment!"
"Aw, you don't have to. I think Mark needs his cuddly Irish," Cry mocks.
"Mark's had his 'cuddly Irish' every night for a solid five months. For real, I don't want you alone out here."
"Hey, thanks, Jack." Cry smiles at him and it's a really warm smile now, one that's surrounded by an inviting air. Jack gets up and switches off the light, the blueish glow from the curtains not bright enough to highlight the blush that's grown on his cheeks. Shut up, Jack.
"Can I tell you something?" His guest laughs slightly.
"Tell away."
"I fangirled a little bit when Mark said you'd be joining us. Fangirled? Fanboyed? I dunno." Cry sounds embarrassed.
"You did not!"
"No, I really did. Sorry! I just hadn't heard from you in so long." Suddenly, Cry grabs him from behind and Jack yelps in surprise. "A mad fan has got into your house," he gasps.
Jack's back straightens at the sudden contact, but he chuckles anyway and grabs one of Cry's hands. "Please, contain yourself! I know I just radiate hotness, but please!"
"I can't! I can't do it!" Cry's arms are so warm against his skin, and his hoodie is soft. Stop it Jack stop it Jack.
It's just because he's attractive, he reminds himself. Remember when Mark was flirting with Marzia? That meant nothing.
"You alright?" Cry's hug falters.
"Yeah, sorry."
"Didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."
"What? Of course not! I can find someone good-looking if I want to," with a wink that Cry obviously sees in the dim light.
"Don't tempt me, Jack. You're taken already."
He vaguely recalls his worry over Mark's jealousy. There's a good chance he was overreacting. Mark's behaviour wasn't too unusual. Nothing to worry about. He'd never returned to play with them, but he was probably just tired.
"Let's get some sleep."
"Yeah, I'm tired. This might've been a bad idea."
"Oh, you offend me."
"Whatever. Let me just get a blanket and let Mark know. He might be asleep, though."
He pulled a thick blanket from a cupboard and walked down the hallway to poke his head in the door of their bedroom. "Mark? You awake?"
As his eyes adjust, he sees that Mark is indeed awake and sitting on the side of his bed. A startled noise follows Jack's arrival, followed by, "Just go into the lounge."
Jack feels his heart drop into his chest.
Because Mark's voice is cracking and falters at the end and it's clear that he's close to tears.
"What's wrong?"
He barely takes a step before Mark gets to his feet faster than Jack's ever seen him move. "Go away, Jack!"
"Mark, what's-"
"Go away! Get out of here! Leave me alone!"
He's not just close to tears, he's choking on half-sobs now, and Jack can see a furious wet glare before Mark closes the door firmly on his face.
Mark can sometimes be defensive with his emotions. He knows that. Jack worries about him, but there's nothing he can really do at midnight when his boyfriend's just kicked him out of their room. He feels wounded by the sharp rejection. It doesn't seem fair.
"Mark asleep?" Cry asks as he returns to lie on the couch.
"Yeah," he lies.
"Alright. Night, Jack."
"Night," he mumbles, mind flicking through reasons as to why Mark just acted like he did. Maybe he'd just been thinking about something.
His mind can't handle it right now, and his thoughts fade as he slips into sleep.
He makes them both breakfast when they eventually wake up. Cry regretfully warns him that he has to drive to a different part of California for family.
"Aw, that'll be fun. Thanks a lot for coming around," Jack grins.
"Thanks for hosting my noob ass," Cry replies, shoving him playfully on the shoulder.
"We should do it again sometime. Flick me a tweet. Hey, I'll go drag Mark out of bed to say goodbye." Cry nods in confirmation and Jack walks again towards their bedroom. He's sure Mark will be in a better mood this morning.
"Mark? You awake, hun?"
Silence. Jack listens to the uneven breathing, hears him shift his foot slightly.
"Cry's on his way out. Come and say goodbye."
No response.
"Mark, I've slept next to you every day for about half a year now. I can tell when you're pretending to be asleep."
A heavy sigh and Mark pulls his pillow onto his head.
"Alright, fine. I'll be back in five minutes." Now Jack's wondering, was it something he'd done? Had Mark really been jealous?
"The lazy lump's still asleep," he tells Cry with a shrug. "He probably says something stupid and slightly offensive."
"You know him too well!" Cry exclaims. "Well, say 'thank you' for me. See you later, Jack."
"See you." He's disappointed that Cry's leaving so soon, but he's not as sad as he is when Mark leaves town.
If he was single, perhaps he would have asked him to stay.
But he's dating Mark, and that's probably the best decision of his life so far. So he lets Cry go without a backward glance.
Back into the bedroom. "He's gone. What's wrong, Mark? Let me in."
He can see Mark straighten. 'Let me in' has been a kind of codeword for a while now. Whenever one person says that, the other has to spill. It works well with Mark, who can be pretty damn stubborn with his problems.
"I'm fine. Don't know what you're talking about." The words are brisk, almost sarcastic, and it's clear Mark has been awake for a while by the speed at which he flips the covers off himself and plants his feet on the floor.
"Is this about last night?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Jack."
He's confused. "I thought we could trust each other with this kind of thing."
"I thought we could trust each other full stop," retorts Mark, brushing past him on his way out of the room. It's not a soft or accidental nudge.
"This isn't about Cry, is it?" Jack follows him helplessly down the hallway and finally grabs his shoulder when they reach the lounge. "Come on, Mark. Don't play around. Tell me what's up."
Mark turns to face him with a look of pure annoyance on his face. He might not be much taller than Jack, but he can definitely be intimidating if he wants to be. Usually, though, that's in a joking way.
This time, he's actually slightly scary.
"I told you, drop it."
"No. I'm not going to stop bringing it up until you tell me. Let me in, Mark."
Mark bites his lip and drops his gaze.
"Let me in. Come on." His tone is as soft as it can go.
"Pretty fucking good looking, isn't he?" he spits out.
Oh.
This was definitely about Cry.
Had he been that obvious?
Jack brushes a bit of hair off his face to cover up the fact that a blush is growing. "Mark, you can just tell me if you're jealous. It's better if we sort this out."
"Yeah, fine, I was jealous. I was jealous of Cry. I was jealous of the fact that you'd cut me off to reply to something he said, or laugh at his tiny little jokes, or exchange knowing looks when I said I was going to win. Maybe I was jealous of the fact that he was pretty happy to flirt with you all night, my boyfriend," he says with a strong, possessive tone.
Jack takes a step back. "I'm sorry. It wasn't like that. I was just happy to play with him for the first time in a while."
Mark turns and paces into the kitchen.
"Mark, look, I apologised." Jack's feeling frustrated now. "Don't be like this."
And he swivels back in Jack's direction with a twitch of his arms and a defensive stance like he's tempted to shove Jack away by force.
"You didn't need to act like that all night. It was rude."
"The suspense was killer," Mark says with a short, barking laugh that's full of anything but mirth. "Wondering if you're just going to fucking kiss already or not! Look, you're even blushing. How cute."
His tone actually makes Jack flinch back. He wants to be sympathetic, he really does, but anger floods into his words. "I told you, it's not like that!"
"Do you really think you can lie to me right now? You can get all up on some other guy when I'm not in the room, is that your logic?"
Jack freezes.
Oh.
He doesn't need to feel guilty.
But he does.
"Caught. Red. Handed." Mark goes to storm away but Jack grabs his wrist and Mark clasps his hand on Jack's opposite shoulder and for a second it looks like he's going to push Jack off him but they stand in that position and nothing happens and Jack lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Go on, then. Run after Cry if looks are really all you care about."
"You're being unreasonable! Not to mention hypocritical!"
"Are you serious?!"
"Yes! Remember how easily you brushed me off at the convention when you were all up on Felix's girlfriend? How can I even size up to that?!"
"Bullshit! I told you, I was kidding!"
"And now look what you're doing! At least I'm actually trying to help this time."
"At least I didn't go behind your back with it!"
And that's when they started yelling.
Jack had brushed all the angry tears off his face but more were following suit.
"Fine!" he says crossly at the door, which still looks shaken by the heavy slam it received a few minutes ago. "I don't care. I don't care about your stupid hurt feelings."
It was less directed at Mark and more at himself.
His hands are trembling and he walks into the kitchen and grabs his stashed block of chocolate off the shelf. God, that argument had been awful. Jack can hardly remember half the things he'd said.
Some of them were about Cry. Some of them were about Felix. A lot of them were insulting.
What had he said just before Mark left? Weak excuse for a boyfriend. Shit.
And then again, Mark had replied with, Weak excuse for a YouTuber.
No, he doesn't care. He'd let Mark leave. He doesn't care where he went, or when he'll come home. He wasn't about to admit he'd let things get out of control. It was all Mark's fault, anyway.
"Stupid… idiot."
One set of words sits heavily in his mind. He tries not to repeat what Mark said. It hurt, it hurt like hell.
It was too late to regret the things he'd said. People argued. It was fine. Mark would come back and apologise.
Eventually.
He could wait.
His phone rings about four hours later. Jack pauses the game he's playing, takes off his headphones and is surprised at the sudden silence. Maybe he'd had the volume a little loud.
The caller name is Felix. He hadn't wanted it to be Mark. He hadn't wanted it to be Mark.
One set of words.
"Hey, Felix. How's it going?"
"Yeah, alright. How are you?"
"I'm okay."
"I heard you had a fight with Mark this morning."
Jack bends his head down and sighs. The world seems determined to keep reminding him. "I just want to forget about it for a bit."
"He just got off the phone with me."
"Oh yeah? What did he say?"
"I'm not being dragged into this," says Felix hurriedly.
"No, you're not. Sorry."
"It's alright. He just told me to remind you to feed Chica."
Jack fiddles with his headphones anxiously. "Right. Okay."
"He said you brought up the time at the con. With Marzia."
He winces. Yeah, he'd said a lot about that. "It was just to prove a point. Please don't take it personally."
A deep exhale carries over the phone line and Jack feels his insides turn with embarrassment and guilt.
"Jack, look. I've been dating Marzia for about four years now. I know about arguments. You're both going to say sorry eventually. Just get it over with, alright?"
"…Yeah."
One set of words. Like needles in his thoughts. Only those words.
"Hey, good luck."
"Thanks. See you."
Mark kissed Marzia's hand softly and Felix darted into the hotel room around her, making some joke about him kissing Jack's hand. At first, he didn't mind. Then the video games started and with it, the flattery. Marzia didn't object to it in any way, nor did she seem uncomfortable. She's beautiful, sure, and funny, but Mark's almost in awe in front of her. They'd never met in person before. He'd been dating Jack for about a month and their relationship was tender, soft, the bond holding them like a glittering new, thin string. Felix took her away about an hour later.
Jack refused to smile at him for the rest of the evening.
He carries himself down the hallway and smiles half-heartedly at Chica, who's pacing the room and hurries towards him when he opens the door. He pours biscuits in her bowl and she gets about halfway through them before raising her head.
Something's off and she can sense it.
Where's Mark? her slightly confused eyes seem to ask.
"He's not here, Chica-beaka," Jack coos without thinking. Chica wags her tail at the nickname Mark had given her.
He feels bad using it.
"Come on," he says quietly, sitting on the couch and patting the space next to him. Chica jogs over and leaps up beside him, draping her paws over his legs and getting herself comfortable.
When Mark was around, she'd almost never cuddle with him like this. She was too attached to her actual owner. Now, it was like he was Mark.
One set of words.
Cold tears fall from his eyelashes and carve scars on his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "It's my fault he left. I was the one who was being stupid."
Chica puts her head on her paws and looks up at Jack. Perhaps it's just his imagination, but it looks like she forgives him.
He's listening to his own words in his head.
"You're a fucking train wreck of a person! Absolutely hopeless!"
Words shot like bullets out of a sore, dry throat.
Jack hasn't regretted anything more than that sentence.
One set of words. Mark knew they'd hurt. Jack knew where to hit him. They'd both said things that never should've been said by anyone.
He wondered if he'd regret them too.
Mark doesn't return home that night. The bed is cold and too big. Chica lies where his boyfriend usually would.
Jack feels like this is the worst emotional pain he's ever been through. He wakes up so many times in the night. Once, he seriously considers ringing Mark then and there.
One set of words.
He's tired as all hell when he wakes up. It's an early night and an early start. He makes himself toast and turns the TV to a random channel.
Where's Mark? What's he doing? Where is he staying?
Jack can't take it anymore. He takes his phone and sends a message.
J: Where are you?
It's only ten minutes before he gets a reply.
M: Stayed in a hotel
J: Do you have money?
M: Cash
The short replies are enough motivation. He dials Mark's number.
"Hey."
One set of words one set of words one set of words all in that voice.
"Come home, Mark. I'm sorry."
"I just need a bit more time." Jack blinks his prickling eyes. "I'm not mad. I'm just thinking."
"Chica misses you," he says quietly.
Silence.
"I miss you."
A soft sigh. "I'll be back in an hour."
"Okay."
There's a pause before Jack hangs up the call.
Click click from the locked doorknob an hour later, followed by a knock. Jack calls Chica over and opens the door.
Mark looks awful. Lines under his eyes, hair sticking at awkward angles, but he still bends down to hug his dog with a half-hearted, "Hey Chica-beaka, yes, hello, I missed you too."
"Get in here," Jack says, holding open the door. Mark lets him close the door behind them.
Jack looks the man in the eyes.
One set of words.
Why is that the only thing he can think of right now? The memory of angry Mark hangs so heavily in the air around them, Jack's sure he can hear it too.
"What? What are you thinking?"
Jack realises he's biting his lip. He never does that. He straightens his expression. "The things I said… I didn't mean them."
"You meant what you said about me and Marzia, and about Cry. But yeah, I understand."
"You know I didn't mean them."
"I know. We just blew everything up bigger than it was."
Jack rubs his eyes before the tears can even form. "Mark, please, can you…"
"What?"
"Can you tell me you didn't mean what you said?"
"Which part?" Jack flinches and Mark hurries to fix his mistake. "We both know what I didn't mean. I was… I was serious when I said I was annoyed with Cry."
"I meant the, uh, the thing you said before you opened the door. That last thing."
Mark pauses. "Jack, I - what did I say? Give me a second."
One set of words.
"Oh, great to see you're finally taking something seriously! Not our relationship, not your life - no, screaming bullshit is the only thing you're really good at, isn't it?!"
"Oh. Oh no, was that… was that when I…"
Jack drops his gaze.
He'd told Mark he was worried about the comments, worried they were true. Scared other YouTubers really did think he wasn't a proper gamer, didn't take his channel seriously enough.
Immediately, Jack's wrapped in a tight hug. He gasps slightly, and then relaxes. "Heh, Mark…"
"I'm sorry," he says. "I mean it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"We're both stupid, huh?" he whispers.
"So stupid," Mark agrees, laughing, and something happens that he doesn't quite store to memory and they're both crying.
He sits on the couch with music blaring through his headphones. Mark's taking a nap after what he admits to be a nearly sleepless night and Chica's gone to join him.
He's not useless. He takes things seriously. Felix and Mark like him, why wouldn't anyone else? He's not useless. He takes his channel seriously. Felix and Mark like him. He's not useless.
With a slightly cracked voice, he hums softly with the music and his thoughts dissipate one by one.
"Jack."
He starts awake, an odd numbness coating his ears. Wait, no, he's still got his headphones on. His playlist must have ended. Jack pulls them off his head and looks up.
Mark's standing above him. "Sorry. Thought I'd better wake you up."
"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he says, and then coughs a few times into his sleeve. His throat feels sore and overused.
"That's alright. I slept a little too."
"How are you feeling?"
"To be honest? Awful." Mark runs his fingers through the mass of red hair. "Did Felix talk to you?"
"Yeah, just passing on a message. Nothing else."
"I said sorry about Marzia."
Jack sits up, horror crossing his face. "Why?"
"I felt like I needed to."
"We've all moved on. I just brought that up to make a point."
Jack lets a silence settle over the room.
"Hey Mark," he says softly. Mark looks up at him. "Love you."
Again, he runs his fingers through his hair.
"I don't like Cry." He nods. "I was happy to let him walk out the door. I couldn't handle you following him. You know that."
Mark wipes new tears off his face.
"Let's not invite Cry over again."
"That's mean." Mark laughs slightly but it comes out sounding like a sob. "It wasn't his fault."
Jack sits back on the couch and closes his eyes. That's it. He can tell the argument's finally over.
"I'll just cook something. See you in a little bit."
"Yeah." Something's missing, but Jack puts his headphones back on anyway.
"Jack?"
"Mhmm?"
"I love you too."