Under Pressure - Septiplier

Chapter Forty Six

Mark stares down at his laptop, biting at the cuticle of his thumb as he reads over Jack's email. They have a lot of work to do on this current project, so they agreed to meet up somewhere over the weekend. Mark let Jack pick the place and time, knowing Jack had a much busier schedule than Mark. However, he didn't expect it to be the one coffee shop with too many memories—Lola's.

What was he supposed to do? Mark couldn't go ahead and nix that; Jack was always cramped for time. He obviously picked Lola's for a reason. Isn't that where he works? Something like that. Mark remembers something about Twinkies and talking to... her. He sighs and closes his laptop with a decisive click, shoving it into his bag, grabbing his folder, and heading out the door.

When Mark arrives, Jack is sitting in the corner by the shelves of books, lounging in one of the chairs. The atmosphere is the same, soft color pallet, happy music, the familiar scent of coffee. Mark nervously glances over at the counter, but there's no sign of Amy, so she must be in the back. He takes advantage of that fact and hurries over, picking the seat that most obscures Amy's view of him. Jack perks up and grins as Mark sits down on the other side of the table.

"How's it going?" the blue-eyed teen asks with a smile, pulling his backpack into his lap to dig through it. Mark shrugs and gives a quick rotation of his hand as if to say 'so-so.'

"That's alright, not every day is amazing. I'm pretty tired myself, if I'm being honest. I worked late yesterday and came in early today since I'm taking the afternoon shift off to work on this project. But hey, I'm happy you're here," Jack chatters away as he digs out his laptop. Soon the pair gets things set up, getting on with things. Mark's stomach growls, and he huffs. Shit, he should've eaten something before he came.

"I can get you something if you'd like. I get all the discounts, yanno," Jack offers with a grin. Mark tentatively peaks over the back of his chair. Still no sign of Amy. He turns back around and nods, digging out his wallet and handing Jack a ten. It crinkles in the exchange, and Mark blinks at the unexpected sound before he opens his mouth to speak. He closes it hastily, frowning and clearing his throat.

"Hot chocolate and... two croissants," he says, finally letting go of the bill. He frowns, voice scratchy and hoarse, but Jack doesn't react. He smiles and nods and easily ignores Mark's problems with willful ignorance. The teen stands and walks off, leaving Mark to work on breath control.

"Hey, Amy, a hot chocolate and two croissants, please?" Jack asks, setting the cash on the counter. Amy perks her head out from the back to look at him, like a meerkat scanning the area.

"Can you ring it up? I'll get it to you after I finish these dishes," she requests before ducking into the backroom again. Jack shrugs and leans over the counter, typing it in and counting out the proper change. He takes the receipt and goes back over to Mark.

"It'll be ready soon," he murmurs, setting the money on the small table beside Mark as he meets his friend's nervous, dark gaze. Those brown eyes follow him as he sits down, roving over his posture with jerky, darting regard. Mark doesn't know where to focus, but he signs 'thank you' to Jack, touching his chin with his flattened fingers and gesturing outward, almost like blowing a kiss. He has learned a few basic signs over the years, and they're easy enough for others to guess the meaning of. Jack smiles lightly at the gesture. He doesn't entirely understand why Mark doesn't talk more, but they aren't close enough to ask just yet. In the meantime, he'll do his best to be kind and gentle with the fragile boy across from him. As they start the project, Amy brings over the drink and food. As she approaches, the girl stills for a moment, a freeze-frame of shock, at the sight of Mark, before she recovers. Her jaw tightens, and she sets down the mug and plate on the table between Jack and Mark.

"There you are," she says, eyes cast downward to the food on the table. Mark stares up at her, brows furrowing as his eyes widen downward with deep emotion. Jack decides it is akin to a time-lapse of a wilting flower—sinking down and darkening, the life draining with a rapidity that serves as a reminder of death.

What died between them to cause such a reaction?

Jack doesn't ask, quietly thanking Amy before sliding the food towards Mark. She hurriedly leaves as Mark stares down at the table, posture drooping like that dying blossom in his eyes. Jack opens his mouth to raise a question, before he snaps his jaw shut and shakes his head as a reprimand to himself, leaning back and letting Mark be. The teen turns his attention back to the laptops and begins typing, allowing his friend to recollect himself. Eventually, Mark gathers himself and takes a napkin, carefully wrapping up the croissants, stashing them in his bag. Then, he sips on the hot chocolate, leaning over to read what Jack's typing up. They work on the project for a few hours while Amy stays as far away as possible. Mark slouches back with a tired puff as they finish going over the final paragraph.

"Bloody hell, that was long," Jack breathes, slumping in his seat as he shuts his laptop with a click. Mark shakes his head at the click and blinks harshly a few times, refocusing himself before nodding.

"Whaddya say we skedaddle and go do something fun?" Jack asks with a gentle smile. Usually, he'd play up the impishness and smirk, but he wasn't sure Mark could handle that energy right now. Mark tentatively looked up with furrowed brows. Jack shrugs in answer to the questioning gaze, standing and shouldering his bag.

"It's too early to head home. Let's go explore," the teen declares, standing tall and straight, attempting to emit as much confidence as possible in some desperate hope that Mark will pick up at least some of it. Those soft, brown eyes drift downward to gaze at Jack's feet, unable to hold eye contact. Mark deliberates, weighing the options as if considering the fate of the universe. Jack waits a few moments before he crouches down and rests his hands on Mark's knees. Jack looks up at the teenager with a small smile that speaks of understanding and grace, even if he doesn't understand. Jack can at least try to act like he does, in the hopes it will reassure Mark.

"It's alright if you don't want to, I won't be offended. That project was definitely exhausting," Jack murmurs, before hastily tacking on "man," at the end, after a pause. So far, his method of avoiding intimacy during these moments had been to nail on "dude," or "bro," or "man," at the end of everything. It keeps things within official friend-zone barriers. Not that Jack would be opposed to a relationship, but Mark... Well, Mark was struggling, and Jack doubted anything like that was on his mind. The brown eyes of his friend scour Jack's, desperately diving into the deep blue searching for something. Jack never knows what Mark is looking for. But this time, he seems to have found it relatively quickly.

"Let's go," he croaks out. Jack's lips split into a wide grin, eyes lighting up. Mark looks away, but he does catch a glimpse of it. Those blue eyes sparkle like a sunset over water, and Mark blushes at the thought of the absolute joy Jack radiates from Mark's simple answer. Mark blinks a few times, clearing that scratchy, raggedy voice from his mind before standing and tossing his bag over his shoulder.