"Cry, I.. I don't know." You sit at your computer head in your crossed arms trying to recover from most of the mishaps that have happened today. He sighs shaking his head on the Skype call, he was desperately clinging on the fact that you were overreacting, but you knew he would be spammed later on about... It.
"I can't do it." You huff out raising your head to reveal your puffy eyes. Cry scowls as he connects the others onto the stream call. "I can't do it, Cry!" You grit your teeth at his silent remark trying to look menacing. "I'm sorry!" You plead faking a smile trying to act pitiful for yourself.
"Hey-woah. (Y/n)?" Cheyenne was the first to connect, the first to see the trails of tears. "Are you caught up in this mess too?" She shifted herself at her desk sipping a can of coke.
"It's not my fault, I'm family, I'm supposed to care." You swing your legs over the armrests of your office chair starting to sprinkle saltiness all over your screen. "I can't help the tears."
"I understand, take off, do your thing." Cry had been the sincere one and waved off your problems. "We'll miss the shit out of you."
"Speaking of." You throw off your magenta headphones spinning in your plush chair. At this point everyone had been added, everyone had access to your breakdown. You let yet another tear slip down your rosy cheek.
"Good Night Guys." You slowly turn around to see Russ close to tears himself. You smile on the inside at the very close friend, surely you'd be talking to him later about nonsense concluding today's actions. "Bye, stream."
You click to exit the call, but now you'd have no choice to be even more disappointed. You regret turning down your offer, and now your heart stings. You only say one word, in the context of your last statement.
"Goodbye Daniel."
It was all you could say, you didn't even tell the distraught Markimoo goodnight. Not even when you lay together for the night recuperating silently in your salty tears. Your cloudy eyes scan over Mark's face, he was worse. 'I'm sorry'.
Words weren't spoken for the next day and a half. Droplets and laces of guitar strings faintly swayed in the air the next morning. Acoustic notes are somehow calming, don't you think?
After all a certain someone played guitar too.
Thank you Cyndago.
YOU ARE READING
Really Mark? (adopted by Markiplier)
FanfictionAs an orphan since second grade you knew your way around town. Since your parents were rich fools, and bought you whatever you want, you already had a phone and a laptop. Ever since you got your own room in the orphanage you watched YouTube like it...
