since eighth grade. → markiplier

Chapter Thirty-Five: I See Fire

Chapter Thirty-Five: I See Fire

All credit and rights to Marioverehrer for playing this song by Ed Sheeran. I just put it in here so you could hear what Ellie was playing, yeah? :3 

Ellie 

Mark's face doesn't pale, or even look distraught as I had expected it to. However, his eyes widen a little with shock, his mouth dropping open slightly. He soon closes his mouth, though, and blinks rapidly to try and orient  himself in his sea of confusion and shock. He slowly and gently closes the pizza box, placing on his desk beside mine.

"...Twins?" He asks, though it sounds more like a statement. Sheepishly, I nod my head and push my hair behind my shoulders.

"Twins," I say blandly, running both of my hands through my hair. "Although I'm not sure about it, there's a possibility that there's more than one child." I tell him, feeling my chest and stomach clench due to the overpowering amount of emotions that hit me like a brick wall; the stress was building up. Although the idea of having a child with the man I love was pretty awesome, I wasn't sure if I was ready to become a mother or not. Especially not for twins. Not now. 

"Jesus," Mark says, his voice cracking a little. "I mean, it doesn't change my mind about wanting to get rid of it - or them, but it's still just so... crazy." He exclaims, and I nod my head. I let out a shaky breath, pushing myself up and off of the chair. I lean down, picking up my shoes, and, with a sigh, I walk out of the room.

"I need air." I tell him, before, somewhat harshly, shutting the door behind me as I step out of his recording room and into the hallway. Taking a glance down the stairs and then back up, I find myself stumbling over to the balcony, my chest feeling as if it has a great weight upon it. Once out on the balcony, my hands curl around the black, iron railing for support, despite the way the cold metal bites my skin with icy teeth. I take in a deep breath, letting my eyes travel up from my hands and white knuckles, only to follow the line of flats, the road that lies between them. 

I suck in a deep breath, trying to remove the weight from my chest. It feels as if I could just choke, but it's a deeper feeling than that. It's almost as if I'm suffocating, but nothing is smothering me. Like I'm downing; my entire body is filled with water and, slowly, my lungs are filling up. I don't know how much longer I can hold out with this feeling, and I needed some kind of relief from it. 

Before I know it, more tears are coming out of my eyes. Furiously, I wipe them away with my palm and notice that my skin comes away stained black. Great. If it's not bad enough crying, I had to be messy enough to get my make-up everywhere, too. I must look like a fucking mess. Honestly, I feel like one. I keep my mouth firmly shut, my tongue pressed up against the roof of my mouth to try and prevent any wails making it's way out of my mouth. I take another deep breath of air through my nose, blinking rapidly to clear up my misty vision. 

"Ellie?" Mark calls out, his voice drifting from down the hallway. I almost turn around, but I stop myself before I do. I don't want him to see me like this - tears streaming down my face freely, my hair a mess, my make-up everywhere. My grip tightens on the metal railing, and the firmness of my grip seems to relieve some of the pressure on my chest. "Ellie." Mark repeats, his voice, this time, more contained and much closer. I know he's right behind me, but I can't find it in me to turn around and look at him. I push my index and forefinger under my eye, swiping any tears away. And, probably, smudging more make-up. I do the same with my other eye, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck tingle when Mark approaches.

A deep sigh escapes his lips, and I hear his footsteps as he approaches me from behind. Instead of saying anything, he just wraps his arms around me from behind, his chin just brushing the top of my head. I let out my own sigh, though this is much smaller as I don't have much energy in me anymore. At the back of my mind, I feel an itch. An itch of a memory that was, earlier this year, buried among many others.

"There's something about me that I haven't told you," I murmur, and I feel him tense up a little. He was, perhaps, going through things in his mind. He soon relaxes, though. "I'll have to show you, though. It's difficult to explain, and you probably wouldn't believe me," I tell him, and I feel his chin shift as he nods his head. Keeping my head low, my hair hanging over my shoulders and cheeks, I take hold of his wrist and lead him to my room. "But, I'll just... you know, take this crap off my face." I say, letting out a small, empty laugh as I go into the bathroom. 

Hastily, I glance up from the floor to my face. My face is tear-stained and smudged with black eyeliner, but not as badly as I had suspected. Either way, though, it wasn't pretty. Groaning a little, I remove all make-up from my face. Once done, I step into my room to find that Mark isn't there. However, I do notice that his door is open. I can just see an ounce of his bare back as he pulls a shirt over his head; he was changing. Deciding that changing would be the best, I pull on some comfortable pyjamas and then flatten myself on the ground, reaching under the bed.

My fingers land on the box, slim but long. I yank it out, hearing it drag along the carpet as I pull it out from underneath the bed. When it's fully out, I notice a thin layer of dust over the top of the box, and I feel obligated to wipe it off. After all, this thing did hold a bunch of memories. Good ones, too. Apart from when- never mind. 

When Mark returns, and I have torn open the box, he raises an eyebrow. Inside the box is a piano and a stand, just small enough to sit underneath the window opposite my bed and leave enough space for me and Mark to sit down. I set it all up easily and smoothly, having done this many times before. Soon, everything is all set up and I take my seat in front of it. I turn my head to Mark, motioning for him to sit beside me.

"You play the piano...?" He asks, feeling a little shocked. 

"Just listen," I say, pulling my hair back and tying it up into a simple pony-tail. "You like The Hobbit, so you'll probably recognize this song." I tell him, rolling my shoulders before sliding back the lid of the piano and letting my hands glide across the white and black keys. Man, it's been so long. Ten months, I think. 

Once my fingers settle themselves on the first keys of the song, I find myself instantly lost in the music that floods my ears. Each sound is overlapped by another, flowing nicely to create the beautiful sound of Ed Sheeran's song: I See Fire. I don't know why I kept this talent a secret, but it was always a precious hobby of mine that took some of the pain away. I didn't want that destroyed by anybody, and my trust was very broken at that time. 

Before I know it, my hands have stopped playing and the song has finished, causing me to be torn out of my own little world. I turn my head to Mark, noticing that he himself seems to be dragging himself out of a world of his own, thus causing a smile to spread on my face. 

"That... was amazing," He tells me, his voice quiet and soft. "Why the hell didn't I know about this? That was so awesome! I've always wanted to know how to play the piano." He tells me, and I nod my head. I knew this - he used to always go on about it to me. 

"Yeah, I know. I didn't tell you - I didn't tell anyone, actually - because it was precious to me. Focusing on the piano and learning to play new songs helped me feel better. I didn't want that to be taken away, so I kept it to myself." I explain, resting my hands on the cool, white keys. 

"So why tell me now?" He questions, his eyes wide with curiosity. I sit there for a moment, chewing my lip in thought. Why did I choose to tell him now?

"I guess that... well, playing the piano helps me feel better. I didn't know if it would do the same for both of us, but I thought that I might try it." I say, feeling happy with my answer.

"Oh," He says, nodding his head in understanding. "I can get that. Well, I do feel better. That was so cool! Do you know any other songs?"

"Of course I do! You know Sherlock, right?"

"Yeah, you forced me to watch it." He says, rolling his eyes playfully. I poked his arm, but I soon return to the keys.

"Well... this is 'The Game is On'. Prepare yourself, Mark." I tell him, smiling almost cockily as I begin playing the song.

...Yeah, not so sure what I feel about this chapter. It's sort of a 'fill in', so you guys know what's happening between Mark and Ellie, and how they're both feeling. See you in the next chapter, guys! Bye-bye!