Mark's desk vibrated suddenly as his phone screen lit up. It was a video call from Jack. He smiled, despite the massive lump of awkwardness that had lodged itself firmly in his midsection, and accepted the call.

"Two things," Jack said brightly, as his face appeared on the glowing screen. How is he always so chipper? "One: I'm not going anywhere. I needed yeh to see my face an' know that. Believe me?"

"Yeah," Mark said, smiling even more widely at the confidence in his friend's voice. "I believe you.

"Great," Jack chirped. "Two: I'm not going anywhere tonight. Go on. Get in bed. Bring the phone with yeh."

"Seriously?"

"Ser'sly."

Mark's smile slipped slightly as he contemplated this. He knew they were just friends, and he knew they were physically a world apart. But he also knew that something… intimate… was about to happen. That they were about to take a tiny step over the line that separated friendship from… something else.

"Hey! What did I say! Nothing to worry about, yeah? In yeh get!"

The knot in Mark's stomach started to loosen. Could it really be this easy to open up? To feel better? Or did it just feel easy because of… Jack?

Mark smiled more confidently. He finally stood up from his computer chair, yawning hugely and rolling his neck and shoulders, attempting to release some of the tension he had been carrying. He turned off his computer monitor and felt his way over to his neatly made bed, phone in hand. He slid under the sheets, noticing how cold they felt on his bare feet. Finally, with a stiff groan, he let his head drop onto the pillow, propping the phone up in his blankets so he could see Jack, who was yawning and stretching himself. The time on Mark's phone screen read 3:34 AM.

"Sleep time for you too?" Mark yawned.

"Nah man, it's basically lunch time. I was just up early fooling around with you lot."

Right. Ireland was eight hours ahead, a fact that Mark forgot often, because of the strange hours they both kept. He internally cringed again.

How often does this happen? How often does Jack go out of his way for me? How many times has he done something like this, for my sake, expecting nothing in return?

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jack had noticed the look on Mark's face.

"I see it, you know? I see the things you do for me. I'm sorry it takes me so long to catch up sometimes. But I see it. I see you. I'm sorry if I don't tell you enough."

"None of that, now." Jack's voice was cheerful, but quiet, and he was looking down into his lap instead of directly into the screen. "I couldn't begin to repay what yeh've done fer me, Mark, so don't start. Being a decent friend is the least I can do."

"I'm not even done apologizing. No, let me finish-" Jack had looked back at the screen and started to protest- "I was an idiot," Mark went on. "This is what I mean by feeling out of touch. I thought if I told you any of this… I thought if I even started this conversation… I thought you'd be gone. I thought at the very best, you'd be nice about it, and laugh it off, but that our friendship would change or end or… I don't even know what. And that was stupid. That's not who you are. I should have known better. I should have known YOU better. I hope you'll give me a chance to do that, if I can get out of my own way."

Jack was looking away from the screen again, clearly embarrassed. "Please… stop apologizing, I can't take it. It hurts me- " Jack's voice became even more quiet, almost difficult for Mark to hear- "I can't think about yeh feeling badly like this. I should be thanking yeh- I… I could never've started this conversation. Yeh mean too much to me. I would never've taken that risk. I would never've risked losing yeh. I couldn't face it."

Jack finally looked back at the screen, only to find Mark's eyes closed, his glasses all askew across his sleeping face. Jack took the opportunity to stare, something he would never have allowed himself to do under normal circumstances. He took in Mark's features- from his ink-black hair, the top dyed vibrantly red to match his bright, energetic persona- to his strong, slightly creased browline- to his wide mouth: lips that usually formed Jack's favorite smile in the whole world. This is why Jack didn't normally stare; the beauty of Mark physically hurt.

Jack contemplated this pain that he had tucked away. He could feel it in little pinpricks behind his eyes - in the way his heart had started to squeeze, his pulse slightly elevated - and in an uncomfortable rustling sensation he felt suddenly, fluttering around his abdomen. He examined each sensation, one-by-one, forcing himself to confront ideas he had refused to acknowledge for so long. He owed it to Mark. Sweet, perfect Mark, who had taken such a massive risk tonight. Had it even occurred to Mark, what a lesser human being might have done with this information? Jack was staggered by this thought: how much trust – how much faith – must Mark have had in Jack, to even raise the subject? Or, had he acknowledged the risk, and felt something so strongly that he had no choice but to take the chance? They both had a lot to lose, but that was just it - Mark had said he felt like he was losing already, missing out on something so important that he could hardly stand it. The urgency of it was becoming increasingly obvious to Jack, and it was slowly breaking his heart. He had to help. He had to figure this out, for himself and for Mark.

His thoughts turned to the logistics of the thing. He considered Mark's mouth, which had fallen open ever so slightly in his sleep. Do friends think this much about each other's' mouths? Mmm.. don't think so.

Mark had said, I don't even know what would happen if you were here…

Jack tried to picture it. How would he comfort his friend? How would he show his care and concern? Well, he had hugged Mark before. It had felt nice. Mark was a bit taller than Jack, broad-shouldered and strong in comparison. Jack remembered the pleasant sensation of being encircled and squeezed. He liked hugging Mark. Hugging Mark was good.

But hugging was something friends did. This conversation was about… more-than-friends. What did more-than-friends people do to comfort each other? He imagined what it would be like to sit next to Mark in his room. He imagined saying something witty and reassuring, and picking up Mark's hand for a comforting squeeze. He imagined brushing his lips across the palm of that hand, pouring care and comfort into the gesture. He tried to imagine where else he could place his lips… and was promptly startled by how quickly and naturally he was flooded with imagined scenarios and sensations, many of which made his face hot with embarrassment.

His head swam.

He was happy to have some time alone with these thoughts before trying to talk to Mark. He did a quick body-scan, expecting to find fear and anxiousness taking hold within his chest… but the sensation was more like… excitement. Could this be good? Could this help Mark? Maybe it was senseless. Maybe it was just fantasy. But maybe, if he could put himself out there, if he could trust Mark the way Mark had trusted him… maybe he could help his friend feel… loved.