The Adventure (Tomark)

Chapter 12

A/N: I-is anyone still out there? :D Part of this was inspired by "The Urethra Chronicles 2", starting around the 40 minute mark: 

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"Ha, you're the best!" Mark exclaims as he cheerfully tousles his friend's hair. "Be safe!"

Tom watches him as he walks away and puts on a weak smile to ease away the rising helplessness inside of him. He soon has lost sight of Mark, but still, his words are like an echo in his head — and Tom remembers every single one of them.

***

When Tom walks back to the bar to not grab a glass, but instead a whole bottle of tequila, he senses that something has changed. He feels empty, numb almost. Perhaps it is related to the blunt that Mark has shotgunned him with earlier, perhaps it is related to the fact that his friend is most likely fucking Patrick in his dorm room in this very moment, in the same bed that he was lying in not too long ago, resting his head on Mark's chest. While the seemingly hundreds of people at this frat party appear to have the time of their lives, Tom feels like he doesn't belong, like an alien surrounded by humans who have it all figured out. This takes him right back to freshman year, back to being a lanky, pubescent loser with the most hideous braces imaginable, someone that is pushed around and sighs with relief when others don't take his punchable face as an offense. It doesn't matter how much he has developed in these past months, it doesn't even matter that Wendy Clear, undoubtedly one of the prettiest girls in this room, for some unknown reason has decided to be his date tonight. As much as Mark has inflated his self-esteem, it now feels as if he has immediately let out all the air with a rusty needle.

Tom sighs and takes a big gulp from the bottle. It is weird to think about it; just a few hours ago, Mark was kneeling right in front of him in the Hoppuses basement, engaging in various activities that still make him blush, no matter how alienated he feels now. And just a few weeks ago, Mark has taken him to the beach, finally opening up about his past and whispering all kinds of mushy sentiments into his ear. It is hard to understand that he is gone now, probably doing the same things with someone else. Tom can't make sense of these different sides of Mark, one of them being his best friend that makes him laugh, stuffs large amounts of Sour Patch Kids into his mouth, shares the last crumbles of weed with him and puts his hand on Tom's knee when he's sitting next to him in the car. This version of Mark is affectionate and kind, perhaps the kindest person he knows, always looking out for Tom and making sure that he is having a good time. It feels like they can confine in each other, and Tom values their intimacy a lot, but the comfort that Mark offers is limited and erratic, often ceasing as soon as someone more interesting than Tom draws his attention. And this is where another version of Mark comes into the picture, with him occasionally growing awfully distant and putting his own desires above everything else.

What's even worse is that Mark never seems to see him as equal. It is likely that he does really like Tom just like he said, but he doesn't respect him, at least not enough to object to Patrick, of all people. This is something that not even outgrowing his shyness and constantly testing his limits can change. No matter how much he tries, how many tattoos he gets or how hard he punches Patrick, who definitely deserves another fist to the jaw after tonight, there still is and perhaps always will be a distinct power imbalance between him and Mark – and Tom can't help but to feel awkward and childish because of this.

"Dammit, I just don't want him to get all clingy and shit. He's fucking crushing on me already, I really don't need that," Mark told Patrick, and it fucking hurts. Tom groans and buries his face in his hands, trying to get a grip. He has to gain control of this again. Even if it is too late to deny the feelings he somehow has developed, there must be a way to turn them off at least.