A/N: If you're a regular reader of mine, you know that this isn't much of a typical fandom for me. But as I work one of the most boring desk jobs in the history of desk jobs, I've struggled to keep myself preoccupied through the monotony of my day's tasks. I downloaded Choices on a whim from the app store, and found myself swept away by surprisingly fantastic character building and storytelling. It sparked the creativity bug in me, and I'm excited to dive further into the easygoing fun that the team over at Pixelberry has created.
This story was inspired almost completely by the song "Marry Me" by Thomas Rhett, which has one of the most phenomenal music videos I think I've ever seen. I highly suggest listening to it as you read. Or just listening to it in general. It's a great song.
In my playthrough, I chose to keep my MC, Rachel, exclusive with Mark. (The lingering college romance struck a chord and I couldn't pair her up with anyone else once that plotline introduced itself) but I'd always wondered what would have become of Mark's unsaid feelings should she have chosen to pursue someone else, in-game. That being said, I hope you enjoy my first foray into the Choices fandom!
A million thoughts swirl through Mark's mind as he sits in his car in the church parking lot, knuckles going white as one hand grips the steering wheel and the other clutches an unopened flask of whiskey. His blue eyes flick up towards the chapel doors, and he closes them for a moment as visions of Rachel, stunning as ever, works her way down the aisle, blonde updo and white dress only serving to leave everyone she passes breathless. Mark heaves a shaky breath at the thought of Ben standing at the end of that aisle in the place Mark had always hoped would be his own, proud smile and misty eyes adorning his features as his fiance approaches him. Blue eyes open up once again, watching visitors pile through the church doors, and the cap on the flask is becoming increasingly tempting to unscrew.
His phone buzzes in his lap, and Cole's face flashes across Mark's screen to signal the incoming call. The caller ID photo of his best friend, a drunken selfie that typically never failed to make Mark laugh, did little to settle the heaviness in his heart. He contemplates letting it ring out for a moment, but when he glances up and sees Cole standing at the top of the church steps, scanning the parking lot for his roommate, Mark sighs and swipes to accept the call. "Hey," he mumbles.
"Hey, you coming?" Cole's voice is tinged with a note of concern, and Mark knows that there's no point in hiding the pain that Cole already knows is tearing his heart apart.
"I'm trying to will myself to get out of my car and go inside, but I don't know how long that's gonna take. Or if it's gonna happen at all." Mark sighs frustratedly, swallowing past the heavy lump in his throat as he runs his fingers through styled brown hair. "I don't know, man."
He can see the sympathetic look cross Cole's face from across the parking lot. "Think you can make it to the open bar at the reception? I'm sure Horatio will whip something special up to help you forget at least for a little while."
"Making to the reception means I have to sit there and watch the woman I love have the wedding of her dreams, to someone other than me. I think I'd be more of a distraction than a welcome presence here, anyways."
"You could always be the one to stand up and shout 'I object!' when the minister asks?" Cole suggests, and Mark knows that he's really only half-joking. He mulls over the possibility in his head, imagining himself uncharacteristically declaring his love to the woman who's had his heart since their junior year of college. All the fantasy reminds him of, however, is missed opportunities and his own regrets for not pursuing her when he could.
"As much as I'd love to make some last-ditch effort to convince Rachel that I'm the one for her, this isn't a movie, Cole. She knows how I feel about her, and she chose Ben. And he's a great guy. He's going to make her happy and I don't want to ruin that."
"Then take a shot of that whiskey that I know you've got in your hand and get over here! Horatio and Tara are saving us seats, and you've got a whole bunch of friends ready to support both you and Rachel today."
Mark nods weakly. "Alright. Just… I need some air first. You go on ahead. I'm gonna take a walk, maybe take a shot or two out back where no one can see me drinking away my sorrows."
"You got it, man. Whatever you need," Cole reassures before hanging up.
Mark's fingers fumble with the handle to his car door before he steps out, the slight chill of the San Francisco November skimming his cheeks and causing his stubbled beard to bristle in response to the cold. He steps out, dress shoes planting against the asphalt and doing little to steady the feeling that his legs were made of jelly. He ducks around the side of the church and into a courtyard, drawing in a shaky breath as his fingers make quick work of the flask's cap. No sooner does he raise it to his lips than he hears the sound of a faint and very familiar giggle from across the courtyard. Furiously screwing the cap back in place and shoving the flask into his coat pocket and out of sight, Mark glances up and meets the chocolate eyes he's gotten lost in more times than he cares to admit.
For a moment, time freezes, and the sight of her in white nearly stops his heart. Whatever he'd imagined she'd look like on her wedding day, it's incomparable to the beauty before him now. Mark hears himself whisper under his breath before he can stop himself. "Wow."
She looks equally surprised to see him back here, and he chooses to ignore the delusional thought that her eyes reflect the same hidden pain he sees in the mirror every morning.
Before either of them can respond to the surprise of running into one another just minutes before Rachel is set to walk down the aisle and into Ben's awaiting embrace, the unmistakably bubbly voice of a familiar bridesmaid cuts through the silence. "Mark!? What are you doing here?"
He finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from Rachel's as he answers Brooke. "Just… taking a walk," he mumbles. He's quiet for a little longer, his gaze lingering on the woman he loves and his heart racing as he contemplates pouring his heart out to her right there on the day of her wedding.
But that's the last thing Rachel needs, and so he manages a weak smile. "You look beautiful, Rach. Ben's a lucky guy. I'll, uh… I'll see you inside, okay?"
He's hardly turned to leave when Rachel's voice rings loud through the courtyard. "Mark!"
Mark looks back over his shoulder at her expectantly, and he's surprised to see the conflicting emotions reflected in her facial features. Her mouth hangs open, searching for words, and she blinks hard a couple times before composing herself. "Nevermind," she responds quickly.
He can sense the well of emotion she's holding back and nods at her gently before turning to walk away, blinking back salty tears forming in the corners of his eyes and shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the feeling that an elephant had come and sat upon his chest. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he shoots a quick text to Cole.
I can't do it. I'll see you back at home after the ceremony, but don't worry about me. Rachel needs and deserves your support today, and you guys deserve to have some fun, too.
He's thankful that he'd been interrupted before managing to take a drink from the flask when he slides back behind the steering wheel of his car and turns the key in the ignition. San Francisco traffic is a nightmare as always, but it only takes him about 15 minutes before he's able to slide into his favorite booth at the Double Tap. Parker, who's managing the bar during Horatio's absence, sidles over and places a gentle hand on Mark's shoulder. "Your usual, or something stronger?"
Mark's thankful for the level of friendship he and his friends had established with Parker that granted her the insight to ask such a question, and he gives her a smile that turns out more like a grimace. "Much stronger."
Parker nods knowingly and returns to the bar, mixing up a potent cocktail and delivering it to Mark. "I'm sure Horatio could have made you something a bit tastier, but if you're looking to distract yourself from Rachel tonight, this should do the trick."
He nods and takes a sip, the alcohol hitting his senses like a punch in the face. For the first time that day, he's startled almost entirely out of his melancholy. "It's perfect, Parker," he wheezes.
It's only after his second drink that the buzz begins to eat away at the pain in his heart, and he closes his eyes while heaving a shuddering sigh. Though his memory should be hazy, he can't shake the sight of Rachel in her wedding dress, his mind playing out the scenario in which he, not Ben, stands ready to take her hand at the end of the aisle.
"I love her, Parker," he says glumly, staring down into his empty glass.
There's a weighty pause in the air, and the silence causes Mark to glance up. The alcohol in his system slows the shock briefly, but it hits when he makes eye contact with Rachel.
The bride-to-be stands next to the booth, tears welling in her eyes as she first shrugs modestly, then buries her face in her hands to muffle her sobs. Mark stands in an instant, gathering her into his arms and holding her close to his pounding heart. "I couldn't do it," Rachel cries into his chest. "I never wanted to hurt Ben. I never wanted to hurt you. But I couldn't do it."
"Shhh," he soothes, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades, where his bare fingers make contact with shivering skin thanks to the open back of her wedding dress.
"I love you," she whispers, and he freezes. She pulls back to look at him, and it amazes him that even with tears streaking through her makeup and eyes red and puffy, she still leaves him breathless. "I know it's the worst time to say it, and you have no reason to love me back after what I put you through or what I just put Ben through, but I've loved you since we were kids and I've been too blind to see it. And I just couldn't go through with marrying Ben knowing that I had feelings for you even if you never feel the same way-"
"Rach," Mark silences her with a swipe of his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears that continued to pool there. "I've waited years thinking I'd never hear you say those words. Not to me, anyway. And this… this is messy. But damn, Rachel, if being with you means dealing with messy, then sign me up, because I'd rather step into this mess with you than move on without you."
He slides his fingers down her forearm until he's able to lace them with hers, and squeezes tight before leaning in. She meets him halfway, years of anticipation and build-up melting into a moment of peace and rightness in the middle of a San Francisco dive bar.
Their first real kiss wasn't how he'd imagined it. It wasn't the perfect setting. It wasn't the perfect situation. She wasn't a perfect woman and he wasn't a perfect man.
But as Mark smiles against her lips, he only had one word to describe this moment.
And it was perfect.