The Broken Places (Septiplier)

7) I Feel We're Close Enough

A/N I didn't made this video and the props go to the owner. Click the YT button on the bottom right to watch the video on YouTube and look into the awesome creator.

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Mark was warm, he was warm and he was comfortable and he was confused as to why. Sure, his bed was pretty comfortable, memory foam tended to be, but he wasn't usually this warm. He was balancing on the tight rope that was the land between consciousness and sleep, so he chose to simply enjoy it. His eyes were open, but only slightly, and his mind was hazy from the long sleep he'd had. After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning and thinking about Jack he'd finally allowed himself to sleep. 

"Mark, you're kind of crushing me, could you move?" The source of the warmth began to talk, rumbling beneath Mark's upper body.

"HOLYFUCKINGSHIT!" Mark shot out of bed, falling to the floor in surprise. Beds didn't usually talk, did they? No. No they definitely did not.

He tumbled a few feet before landing on his ass, hands braced behind him. He looked to the bed, pink hair flopping into his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. Why was there someone in his bed? 

"What the hell, Mark!?" Jack's voice had jumped a few octaves due to shock and he brushed his bright hair from his face.  "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he began to laugh. "I forgot you were here and thought someone broke into my house to cuddle with me!"

"You silly!" Jack began to laugh as well.

And for what seemed like a long time, the two men just sat in Mark's room, laughing until they cried. It felt good Mark realized, to laugh like this. He hadn't in what felt like ages and there was something freeing about it. He let his head fall into his hands and he continued to laugh, his whole body shaking with it.

After a long moment, though, the laughter died. The room was once again silent. 

"Jack," Mark's voice broke the silence, once the laughing had finished, his voice wavering. "Do you think it'll be okay? Now that Joseph is dead, will it be okay? Can it?"

"Yeah Mark, of course it'll be okay. Why wouldn't it?" He paused. "Okay, stupid question Jack. Yes, it'll be okay. Joseph may be gone but you can always remember him. You can keep his memory alive and you can do things to assure he will never be forgotten. Like your hair, isn't that for Joseph?"

"Yeah, yeah it is." He laughed, the sound hallow. (a/n: this may or may not be true irl, I dunno)

"Well, see?" Jack smiled, getting up and crossing the room to offer Mark his hand. "Joey isn't gonna be forgotten. Not by anyone. And, after a while, things will be okay again. They will be different, and a little strange, for sure. But they will be okay."

Mark took Jack's hand and allowed his friend to pick him up from the floor. It seemed like Jack was doing that a lot, -both metaphorically and actually- picking him up. He was being such an incredible friend and Mark wasn't sure how to repay him, or if he ever could. 

"Let's go see what the rest of the house is up to, yeah?" Jack smiled, still holding Mark's hand in his.

"Yeah," Mark's returning smile was warm, and for a moment he allowed his fingers to tense around Jack's.

Holding Jack's hand was nice, Mark mused. His fingers were longer and thinner than Mark's, but they held a lot of strength. Jack would make a wonderful pianist, or a cellist, with fingers so long. 'What else' the intrusive thoughts whispered, 'what else do you think those long fingers would be good far, Markimoo?' 

A dark room, lips hotly pressing together between the sheets of Mark's bed. A low cry and a small frenzie of motion. A sticky kiss, a soft sigh and a low grunt. The sound of skin on skin. A low, rumbling cry as the silhouette of a head is pulled back by a slender hand. The hand is attached to a lithe shadow who's hips are working against the stockier, shorter body on all fours in front of it. Hurried breathing, but the silhouettes move slowly. 

"... and I was thinking maybe we could all get out of the house today? Just get out and do something? Maybe we should go to the zoo, it'd be good to get you, Matt and Ryan out of the house. We could go anywhere, or no where. Even just for a walk." Jack was in the middle of speaking, but Mark only caught the end of it.

Mark's cheeks flushed as he tried to forget what he had just been thinking about. Sure, it had been a long time, but a fantasy about Jack, really? That was too much. He dropped Jack's hand quickly, as if he'd been burned, and looked down.

"Sure, that sounds good." His voice was low and he cleared his throat, hoping Jack hadn't noticed the raw need that had briefly bled into his voice. "Let's do something, anything." 

Jack wanted to say something, he did. But he saw the flush on Mark's cheeks, noticed how his voice had changed, gotten low and sultry, and he lost his train of thought. He licked his lips subconsciously, unable to control the flash of lust through his system. After a moment the lust was replaced with guilt. Mark was mourning, this was not the time to be a horny bugger.

"We should get dressed, first." Jack said, slowly, before gathering his clothes for the day. He didn't look at Mark, still trying to shake off the feelings of guilt and lust. "I'll take the bathroom this time, I need to shower."

"Okay," Mark replied, without looking up. He was still lost in the fantasy from a moment ago, trying to come up with a reason as to why he would have platonically thought about something like that. So far, he had nothing. No good reason. Oh boy. This was not the time to be thinking about this. Mark shook the thoughts off and began looking for something to wear. 

Jack finally decided on something and headed for the bathroom. He tried not to notice how troubled Mark looked and simply closed the door behind him. He knew, somehow, that Mark just needed a minute to himself.