Septiplier One-Shots

Viable

I FEEL TERRIBLE FOR NEVER UPDATING ;_; I PROMISE THAT THE NEXT CHAPTER THAT WILL BE PUBLISHED WILL BE MINE!

FOR NOW, ENJOY ANOTHER BEYOND PERFECT CHAPTER WRITTEN BY THE ONE-AND-ONLY author144!

And so it continues...

It was raining; again.
This, however, was not the rain that Jack wanted. He wanted the warm rain, the rain that fell outside Mark's house in California where the air was still heated and it was something to admire rather than avoid. This rain in Ireland was cold, and perfectly described how Jack felt at the moment. He was upset, still having to come home to see his family. He loved them, but sometimes they could be such a pain...
He Skyped with Mark once a day, even if that call led on into the hours of the early morning. Jack could have cared less what time of day it was, this was the closest he could get to Mark for awhile, and so it had become quite the priority for him. No matter what time it was, what he was doing, the second that his Skype went off, alerting him someone was calling, he would put whatever was in his hands down and rush to his computer, sometimes even if that meant ignoring his food.
It hadn't been worth it, in Jack's opinion, to come home so soon. He went to his mother's almost immediately after arriving, and talked with her for a little while about Mark and America. He conveniently left out the parts where his and Mark's lips connected and their drunken adventures, but managed to pull a smile regaling their tales of fun and excitement. Jack could literally feel the happiness seep from him once he stopped talking about Mark, and forced a cup of tea down himself to hide the fact that he was merely seconds from sobbing.
His brothers apologized, as promised, and they made it up to Jack by taking him out for a day. They went for lunch, and then out to the beach, and as much as Jack enjoyed it, Mark never quite left his head. He couldn't stop picturing Mark sitting beside him on the sandy beaches of California, his grin wide spread, sun glaring off him in the most artistic way that made him look as bright and alive as a fire. Jack was constantly pulling himself from memories the entirety of the day.
Jack had found it getting harder and harder to create videos and game as he wanted to, and he only found a true burst of energy when Mark called every once in awhile to collab outside their normal talking, and Jack was rejuvenated for a few days longer. It couldn't be healthy for him to mope around the way that he was, but he also couldn't help it.
His chest ached every time he thought of Mark, and the man's voice could drive him crazy sometimes, he missed the way it could be right next to him instead of transmitted through static and headphones. When they Skyped, Jack never wanted to hang up, and always found himself sleeping a little easier the days he got to talk extra to Mark.
Even now, Jack was feeling withdrawals as Mark had been busy the night before, and over apologetic about missing their call. Jack dismissed it, and didn't get a wink of sleep. He pushed back in his chair, sliding to the opposing wall and sitting there, hands behind his head as he finished recording and stared out the window, watching the rain drop onto the ground outside and soak everything. He felt as gray as it looked only for moments longer until he heard his Skype going off. Quickly, he rolled forward and answered it.
"Sorry that I couldn't talk to you yesterday, I got so busy. I feel terrible," these were the first words that Jack heard from Mark, and his heart nearly beat out of his chest.
"Oh Mark." he whispered, barely getting his words out. Mark's camera was on and so was Jack's, and he revelled just looking Mark over. His hair was a bit crazy, and Jack enjoyed seeing the smile tugging at his lips. The way it always did once they turned the cameras on.
"Every time," he told Jack , and he knew what Mark meant. There hadn't been a single time when either of them turned their cameras on and hadn't stared at the other in pure love, pure wanting. They both noticed it, but neither of them could help it. Mark, much to Jack's dismay, disappeared off camera for a second before returning with something in his hands. "Look what a certain someone left behind." Jack grinned, both saddened and happy to see his green flannel resting there.
"I thought I lost it." Jack sighed in relief, and Mark chuckled, looking it over and grinning at it.
"Well, I guess you'll just have to come back to America to get it." Mark informed the Irishman, and they both laughed at this.
"Oh how awful that would be." Jack rolled his eyes, and looked at Mark as he laughed. He was so perfect. He stopped, looking at Jack and he nodded, sighing. "Soon enough, Mark." Jack looked at the screen, smiling at Mark as he did too, and he blushed. "We can make it until then."
"We can." Mark agreed, and he glanced down at Jack's shirt once more with a large grin. "Of course we can, we're viable." Jack grinned at him too, and he took his headphones off, leaning back to listen to someone yelling at him, probably the Cyndago guys. Then, he returned and gave the Irishman a sad look. "I have to go again, I'm so sorry. I love you."
"Its-." I paused, Jack's breath catching in his throat as he realized what Mark had said, but before he could utter a word, Mark ended the call and left. Jack sat back in his chair, almost in disbelief of what he just heard. Then, there was a knock on his door and he couldn't worry about it anymore. He went to the door, opening it and finding no one there. Instead, he looked down and there was a small vase of flowers. Jack picked them up, carrying them inside. He found a note attached, and reading it over, he grinned and smiled to himself.
Don't worry, we can make it. I <3 you lots ~Mark
Jack was lucky, and he knew it.

To be continued...