You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for the Truth

"Jack?" Mark asks, surprised. The Irishman can hear him fumbling with something in the background, his livestream. Jack feels horrible for calling, interrupting him.

"Are you still there?" Mark asks after a few seconds, the only sound his smooth voice.

"Y-yeah," Jack tries, tears still sliding down his cheeks.

"Are you okay?"

Jack laughs, the noise a surprise to even himself. He shakes his head, tears dripping from his chin. He wipes his eyes, chuckling a bit more.

"I'm sorry, Mark," Jack says, regaining his composure. "I'm a mess."

"No, it's okay," the American replies quickly. "What's going on?"

The Irishman shrugs, even though he knows Mark can't see him. His throat feels as if it is closing, like he may drown in his own tears. He doesn't want to cry anymore, doesn't want to have Mark listen to his pitiful sobs, but he can't do anything to stop himself.

"I don't know," he finally sighs. "I can't be here anymore. I can't do this anymore. I can't be with Signe, but I'm too scared to leave. Because I'm a fucking coward, Mark, and I don't know what to do anymore because every decision I make ruins someone's life one way or another."

"Hey, hey, hey," Mark coos softly. "That's not true, okay? Things have unexpected consequences, and that's not your fault, okay? You're going to be okay, Jack. You're a lot stronger than you think."

"But I'm n-not," the green haired man admits, breathe hiccuping with a sob. He's about to break down, but he forces himself to swallow hard, push all emotions down deep into his stomach.

"Please, don't wait for me," Jack begs quietly. "You shouldn't have to. You shouldn't put your life on hold for me."

The words are acid on his tongue, salty tears in his eyes. His heart is tearing itself in half in protest, deciding it would rather stop beating than comply with his mouth. There's ice in his core, spreading to form terribly sharp crystals beneath his skin.

Mark quiet for what seems like a long time, his soft breathe the only noise on the line. Finally, he gives a small sigh.

"Jack, I... I want to wait for you," he admits. "I love you. And I understand if you don't love me, but... it's going to take me a long time to just move o-on."

Mark's voice breaks at the end, and Jack can hear him crying softly when he finishes, his uneven breathe's reaching the Irishman's awaiting ears. Jack closes his eyes, the mere sound of his lover crying breaking his fragile heart.

"I'm so scared, Mark," Jack breathes. "I'm so afraid to make any changes. Signe has always been safe. Me and her- we've always been shallow and broken, but it works just well enough to keep either of us from leaving. It feels so much different with you. You feel like... you feel like love. But, what's going to happen if I wake up one day and it doesn't feel right a-anymore? W-what are we going to d-do then?"

"I don't know," Mark admits, sniffling quietly. "But I'd spend the rest of my life searching for the answer if that will make you happy."

"But what about you, Mark?!" Jack nearly shouts: confusion and pain mixing to anger. Because everything inside him hurts so bad, and the raven's words make it so much worse.

"What are you going to do, Mark?" Jack demands, through tears. "What are you going to do if I turn to you one day and say I don't love you anymore? Then what?"

"Then I'll let you go," he replies quietly. "And I'll try to put myself back together. Maybe all the pieces won't fit together quite right or maybe I'll be missing a few. But I'll make it work."

"I don't want to do that to you," Jack shakes his head. "I don't want to have that kind of power. I can't be trusted with your heart, Mark. I've never been good with them."

Mark chuckles sadly. "It's too late for that."

"Please, take it back," the Irishman pleads. "I don't want to hurt you. I can't do it. I can't hurt everyone anymore."

"It's only coming back to me in pieces," the raven admits. "I'm sorry, Jack, but I am completely and utterly in love with you. And I know I shouldn't be, and I know I should be more careful with my heart but... Jack, I want to be with you."

"I love you," Jack confesses, the words feeling so good on his lips. "I love you, and I won't pretend I don't. But I can't. I can't fall out of love again. I'm stuck in his safe but loveless relationship, and I'm too afraid to pull myself out. I'm too afraid to try again. Because maybe we're just going to end up the same way? Maybe this is just how it's supposed to feel."

Mark is quiet for a long moment, nothing but a dreadful silence between them. Jack's heart aches, the words from his lips tearing him apart. He wants to be with Mark, but he just can't do this again. He doesn't know what he'll do if they fall into the same monotony as his current relationship. His heart can't take it.

"Then it doesn't matter, does it?" Mark decides, a deep breathe pushing from his lungs. "It doesn't matter if you love me, or if I love you. If we can't be together, then, it's all pointless."

"Please, Mark, please don't. I'm sorry. I really don't want to hurt you. I love you. I swear I do."

"No, Jack... you don't. And I'm sorry for thinking that you did."

The call ends with three soft beeps. Jack is left alone, phone pressed against his ear, heart crumbling as any glimmer of hope dissolves into bitter, agonizing sadness. He drops his phone, trembling hands wrapping around himself, as if the physical embrace can keep his broken spirit together. He can't breathe: his throat choking on sobs.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," he repeats quietly to himself, his exhausted brain unable to accept the situation. "No, Mark. I love you. I love you so much. Please, god, no."

His hand finds his mouse as he navigates back to YouTube. He click the Markiplier first video his blurry vision lands on. It buffers for only a second before the American pops on screen, greeting him with unrivaled enthusiasm.

"Mark," Jack smiles softly, tears streaming down his face.

He pulls his knees to his chest, wiping his eyes so he can better see the raven in the corner of the screen. He's still crying, his soul is still breaking, but it feels so much better with the smooth, baritone voice coming through his speakers.

"I love you, Mark," he coos softly, watching the man play a horror game. "I love you so, so much."