Markiplier x Reader

A wintery visit

   Mark sighed as he pulled into the parking lot, looking up at the large building. I hate hospitals. Mark thinks to himself. For more reasons than one. He takes a deep breath and opens the door to the cold brisk air of winter. He shivers, but still thankful that it isn't as cold as it was two years ago.
   Two years ago. Two years ago, it was blistering cold. Two years ago, he was having Christmas with a friend. Two years ago, the two of them ran out of a very needed ingredient to their Christmas meal. Two years ago, the friend went out to quickly get the ingredient. Two years ago, they drove to fast.
   Mark grimaces at that memory. He still remembers the call he got from the very hospital that stands in front of him. The dent on the wall from him throwing the phone too hard is still on the wall.
   Tugging his scarf tighter on his neck, Mark walks up to the double doors that he knew all too well. He grasps the cold metal with his bare left hand and pushed it open. It opened silently, and Mark stepped into the heated building, happy to be out of the cold.
   Mark walks up to the counter, quickly noticing all the people around. Geez, there are more people than usual during the holidays. Mark thinks, knowing why. He walks up to the front counter, trying his best to not look at anyone.
   Standing at the desk, Mark clears his throat to catch the attention of the lady sitting at the desk. The woman slightly jumps, but calms herself down and looks at Mark. "Ah, Mr.Fischbach, we were expecting you to be here today."
   Mark looks up at her silently, his eyes a loud enough example that he does not want to talk. The woman sighs, waving her hand to the left hallway. "The doctors are all done taking their tests for today, so (s)he's/they're okay to visit today."
   Mark nods and turns in the direction he knew by memory. He walks down the hallway, stopping at the elevator. He presses the button, and waits a minute for the metal box to slide down to his level.
   A ding is heard, and the doors slide open. Luckily there is no one in the elevator. So he walks inside and presses the button to go to the 3rd floor. The doors slide closed, and seconds later the elevator starts moving up.
   It takes less than a minute for the elevator to stop at the correct floor. Mark waits for the doors to slide open once more. And like always, they do.
   Mark takes no time to get out of the elevator and walk down the hallway. 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306. Mark counts the door numbers, finally stopping at door 316.
   Taking a deep breath, Mark opens the door; almost expecting something. But like always, nothing was new.
   The sleeping body still lays on the bed, facing up. As it has been for two years. The chest still rises in the same rhythmic pattern, showing that the otherwise not moving body is still alive. The arms still lay next to the body, and legs straight out on the bed. Nothing seems to have changed since Mark last visited.
   Taking a deep breath, Mark walks over and takes a seat on the chair; pre-placed just for him. He stares at the motionless body, fighting back the tears once more.
   He fights back the tears as he has been for two years. For two long years, Mark has been holding his tears back. When he's sitting in front of his friend; when he's playing a video game, even when recording. Expecially when he's recording. It's hard for Mark; even though he's strong physically, he is not strong enough to watch as his friend rots away on a hospital bed.
   Mark reaches over and takes ahold of the now weak and skinny hand. "Hey (Y/N), I'm here... again. It's the second Christmas with you in a coma. But hey, three's a charm. So maybe you will be awake by the third Christmas." Mark bites his bottom lip, wiping a tear away.
   He holds on tightly to the cold hand, as if he were to not the other person would float away. Mark takes another deep, more labored, breath and continues to speak. "You know, I miss you. I miss your laugh. I miss you scaring me as I record my videos. I miss your voice. I miss everything about you."
   Mark wipes away another tear, slowly giving up on the fight with himself. He looks back at (Y/N), looking into their more pale face. "Do you want to know something?" Mark asks; when silence is met, he continues. "I purposefully ran out of that ingredient we needed. I did it so I could prepare a special gift for you." Mark's breath quivers as it is drawn out of his lips once more. "I was going to confess that I-I... I loved you. I was going to tell you that night."
   Mark bends over on himself, tears running down his face and falling on his pants. "It's my fault. It's all my fault." He mutters to himself, eyes pinched closed as if in pain.
   The tears roll down his face as he shakes his head. He looks up at (Y/N), face crumpled into a sobbing mess. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). It's all my fault. Please forgive me."
   He awaits a answer, but he knows he won't get one at all. So he just wipes away his tears and recollects himself.
   Mark lets go of the other's hand and raises it to their face. Softly, he brushes some of the (Y/H/C) hair out of the way. "I'm spending Christmas with Bob and Wade this year, I wish you could join us." He says, only to obviously get no response.
   He stands up and leans down over to kiss the other's forehead. "I still love you." Is all he says, before exiting the room.
   But he never notices the tear slip down (Y/N)'s cheek.