G/T YouTubers (One Shots and More)

Exiled (Mark and Jack) (Part 3)

The only sound filling the stretch of silence that felt like infinity to Jack was the rumble of thunder, as the rain continued to pound on the roof high above. He was hardly aware of his own rapid pants, or his heart racking against his ribs with a frenzied knocking, but rather he was solely focused on the two pairs of eyes locked on his body; those eyes of giants, whom outdid the Irishman every way possible: outsized, outstrengthed, outright in control of every atom of the very bedsheets that coldly cradled his pathetic figure. He could try and look for a way out, or just blindly flee, but they could-- and he didn't doubt would-- easily overpower him.

He was nothing to them.

Mark and Amy both held on to their baited breaths, and while Amy was fathoming the remarkable existence of these dying-out creatures, again, Mark was studying Jack intently; the way the shoulders bunched up, how close the limbs were to the core of the little human, or how obviously shaken this frightened thing was. He was afraid, and Mark understood why. But to help him, the giant would first have to try and connect with him. And that started with calming him down.

Mark took a deep breath and leaned forward. Amy shot him a warning look as he let his hand sink into the covers, and Jack flinched away. Mark bit his lip and put his weight forward, slowly laying down on his stomach so that he was at the human's eye level. He could practically smell the fear wafting from the huddled form, like rancid food left too long in the trash. His nose wrinkled sympathetically, and he put his head down and pressed his cheek against the covers so that he could get a better look at Jack. Still, the human was gripping a wrinkle in the heavy sheet, and as he felt the giant come closer and closer he seemed to get even smaller. But as Mark opened his mouth, about to offer soft reassurances, a whimper interrupted him. He hesitated, and then when he tilted a little closer he saw a droplet fall from the human's face.

He was... crying.

Mark was stunned as he watched the waterworks let loose. Jack didn't even bother to hide it, his countenance just contorted as he gripped the covers harder. Amy slowly knelt down as Jack started sobbing, and she exchanged a sympathetic glance with Mark over the small man's head. Mark looked back at Jack, feeling a wave of emotions wash over him.

"..." He lifted his hand. He saw Jack flinch when the very shadow of it loomed over his hunched figure, and in turn he winced guiltily. He slowly let his hand come down, and then he tilted his hand and let only his thumb come into contact.

Jack stiffened as he felt the warm and heavy extremity rest on his head. He held still, hoping that the giant was going to just put him out of his misery already, instead of prolonging the inevitable. But no weight came flinging down upon him. Not a disgusted hand, or book, or even the ridges of a shoe. Instead, Mark's thumb slowly, gently, trailed down his back, and then back up toward the shoulders, in a repeated motion. It felt... it felt kinda nice, actually. It was sending a chill through his nerves, but it was pleasant, like ASMR when listening to rain or white noise tapes. He felt his muscles relax under the gentle rubbing, and his grip on the covers eased. The tears leaking from his stormy ice-blue eyes subsided too, and he could only stare at the pattern of the spreading as Mark continued to rub his back.

"I think it's working," Amy whispered. Mark nodded. He could feel all the intricate muscles that were bunched up under his touch now softening, but the breathing was still shallow and apprehensive.

"Can you get some of those leftovers heated up?" He murmured, guiltily noting Jack shrivel downward like the weight of his voice was too great. But Amy caught on to Mark's idea, and she nodded, quickly backing away to leave the room. It was just one giant now.

Jack watched her go out of the corner of his eye, feeling his heart flutter at the sound of the door clicking shut. He was still stranded high up upon the bed, right next to Mark and now directly underneath his hand— or at least, half of his hand. Most of the fingers sat dutifully behind him, like dogs awaiting their master's command to hunt something down.