Markiplier Imagines / One-Shots ((fin))

°We Accept The Love We Think We Deserve°

((Y/F/N = your friend's name))

You refuse to forgive the boy who broke your heart.

He refuses to admit he did so.

Sitting alone on your couch, your phone screen lit up for the fourth time today, Mark's caller ID clear.

"What?" You snapped, picking it up.

"Y/N? Are you okay? I've been worried." His caring voice was on the other end.

"No! I'm not okay!" You hung up, then turned your phone to silent. You didn't want to hear from him again.

He could never understand how you had fallen in love with him over the years, just to see him date some random girl off the street that didn't even love him. You had supported them at first, but after the third time she cheated on him, you tried to convince him of it. Mark yelled at you for accusing her of it, causing you to leave in a fit of tears. Your friend had never been anything past mildly annoyed at you, or anyone else, so when you were met with pure rage from him you left. And haven't been back since.

That happened nearly a month ago, and you decided to stop letting yourself wallow in self-pity. You were going to do something, anything to forget. Your friend had mentioned a party she was going to tonight, so you declined the call from Mark that was lighting up your screen in order to call her.

"Hey, Y/N!" She excitedly answered.

"You remember that party you were telling me about? I think I'd like to go."

"Yes! Its finally time for you to get out of that old shirt you haven't taken off in a month!"

You looked down at the shirt you were wearing. It was one Mark had left at your house years ago that you kept for yourself, which he didn't argue with. "So when are you picking me up?"

"In an hour?"

You were then interrupted by another call from Mark, which you swiftly declined. "Absolutely. Bye!"

Next, you went into your contacts and blocked Mark. He wasn't about to ruin your night out. Flipping through your wardrobe, you chose a form-fitting black dress, with gold heels and the jewelry to match. You wanted to look and feel fierce tonight.

Y/F/N knocked on your door five minutes early. "Coming!" You yelled, slipping your phone into your purse.

At the party, you mainly followed your friend around, going in between the dance floor and the bar. Your heart sank when you saw a familiar couple walk in, Mark and his girlfriend. Trying to ignore the dismal mood they put you in, you downed shot after shot. Holding Y/F/N's hand, she pulled you out to the dance floor for some much-needed letting go.

You danced like crazy, then felt your shots from earlier working their way back up your intestines, accompanied by regret and bile. Excusing yourself from the random guy you had been grinding on, you slipped out of the crowd to find a bathroom. You were not at all surprised to find a couple making out in the first door you opened, which happened to be a bedroom. The next one over held a bathroom, to which you gladly fell to your knees to begin retching.

As you puked, someone grabbed your hair, holding it away from your face and rubbing your back soothingly. You couldn't see who it was until you had finished, wiping your mouth with a towel. When you looked up at them, you were met with those heart-melting chocolate eyes. "Mark? What the fuck are you doing?"

"Helping a friend."

You narrowed your eyes. "Why aren't you with your girlfriend?"

"Ex-girlfriend." He clarified. "I saw her grabbing another dude's junk, decided she wasn't for me."

"I fucking told you." You then felt another wave of nausea hit you, forcing your face back into the toilet boil.

Once again, Mark rubbed your back and held your hair as you hurled. "Yes, you did. I should have listened." Then he handed you the towel.

"Damn straight." You slurred, standing on wobbly feet. "Now leave me alone."

"No, I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'm getting you home before you hurt yourself."

You didn't protest as he pulled you out to his car, sat you down, strapped you in, and began driving. The car ride was silent, he didn't even turn on the radio, which he usually did. At your house, he fished your keys out of your purse, and half-carried you inside. Mark led the way down the hall to your bedroom, setting you down on your bed. Gently, he went to work taking your heels off you and putting them away, then scouring your semi-messy floor for pajamas for you.

"Is this my shirt?" He smiled down at the article of clothing.

"Yeah, I couldn't bring myself to burn it." You spat.

"I'll let you change, do you want me to make you anything to eat?" Mark kept the same kind demeanor.

"No, I want you to leave!"

He did so, exiting your room. You sloppily undressed then threw on your sweatpants and old T-shirt. Without even taking your makeup or jewelry off, you fell onto your bed, dead asleep.

A massive headache woke you up merely hours later. Your clock told you it was 3:28 am. Oh joy. Dragging your feet into the kitchen for some pain killers and water, you spotted the sleeping form of Mark on your couch. Judging by the glasses that were still on his face and the position he had fallen asleep in, he must have dozed off while protectively staying up for you. After swallowing the tablets, you crept over to where he was splayed out and took his skewed glasses off his face to set them down on the coffee table. You tenderly placed a hand against his cheek. He looked angelic as he was sleeping.

You reminded yourself he wasn't yours to appreciate. But at least he wasn't hers anymore.

"Y/N?" He whispered sleepily. "Is that you?"

You quickly retracted your hand. "Yes."

"You should be asleep."

"Can't sleep."

He motioned for you to join him. "Then how about we talk?"

You settled in beside him, not protesting when he pulled you into his side. "Or I can talk and you can sleep. Sounds like you need it more than me."

Partway into your ramblings, you could hear his faint snores. He was asleep again. Wanting to just live in the moment, you snuggled deeper into his side, closing your eyes.