He tapped his foot agitated, Felix was late. He sighed, taking a sip of his drink, and staring round the quirky little coffee shop. All of a sudden his phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly checked it to se if it was an apology or a checkup from the Swedish man.
Pewds: Hey Jackaboy, sorry can't make it, but just stay there I know somebody who'll keep you company
He sighed putting his head in his hands, running his hands over his head, resulting in pulling his hood up, he annoyed at his friend, but realised there was no point in being angry. Now he was just curious as to whom the person coming was, trying to puzzle it out as he stared at the table.
That was quickly answered by a presence in front of him.
"Dude, sit up, why'd you need me here anyway." That voice was all too familiar and very unpleasant.
"I'm going to fucking kill Felix." He muttered to himself before looking up and seeing the man he predicted but hadn't hoped for. "Why you! Of all people why you!" He cried, not caring if he was earning stares.
Mark sighed, just staring at the green haired boy in front of him, glaring almost. "Well that's it, Ken is fucking dead to me." He heard the American mutter.
"They set this up, fuckin' sneaky bastards. Should've fuckin' known Felix was goin' on at me to talk to you again."
The American laughed, but it wasn't happy. "And Ken was doing the same God I'm so-"
"Stupid." They said at the same time.
A waiter set down a mug of coffee on the table, for Mark, whom decided that since they were here and both had finished their drinks yet that he'd start up a conversation. "So how's life Jack, still being a fucking liar?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Still being a possessive, paranoid, piece of shit?"
"That was uncalled for."
"So was calling me a liar."
"Stickdick."
"Tic-tac."
"Oh you would know huh?"
"Yeah I would if you haven't forgotten."
"I'm surprised you didn't forget when you had your tongue down his throat!"
Silence. Just plain silence. Jack was constructing a sentence in his head. A comeback but he couldn't deny the amount of pain that built up in his stomach. A feeling from deep within him that he knew when it built up would either make him scream in anger or burst into tears.
"Fuck you Mark Fisbach, you think you're so high and mighty with your fuckin' dumb ass red hair and fourteen million subscribers but let me tell you something. You're pathetic." The green haired man spat, slamming his hands down on the table as he stood up, disregarding his unfinished drink, before storming out of the cafe.
Tears threatening to pour down his face.
Because if he was honest. He really missed the red haired American.
If he was honest. He still loved him.
But if he continued to be honest. Mark broke his heart.
And if he was honest once more. He didn't know what he wanted.
