Chapter 14

 

  No words are exchanged on the ride home. Mark's hands glue to the steering wheel as firmly as his eyes to the road, leaving Jack's to lie limply in his lap. He wants to lean against Mark's shoulder, to place his hand on his thigh, something to wipe away this ugly trance Mark had fallen into, but Jack's afraid of Mark's response. He doesnt fear Mark jerking away in disgust... Well, not as much as he fears Mark not reacting at all.

   As the two pull into Mark's driveway, Mark exits the car as if nothing is wrong, but Jack sees the tenseness in his shoulders as he strides to and inside the front door without so much as a glance in Jack's direction.

  It stings, but Jack surprises himself when no tears blur his vision and no lump forms in his throat. The numb feels good for a moment, but he knows how hard it can all come crashing down. He sucks in a brave breath before stepping out of the car and to the house.

  Mark feels like all of his seams are coming undone, he flees the car trying to gather and hold all of his insides. The moment the front door closes behind him the tears begin to flow in perfect silence. In a stir of panic and confusion he marches past a very confused Chica to the bathroom and locks himself inside, bracing himself against the sink with heaving breaths.

  He's angry. He's hurt. He's panicked, tired, and above all frustrated. Its all so unfair. If it had been him and Brittany up on that stage, Jack wouldnt have been put through that. In fact, if it had been Mark and ANY female, nothing of ill record would have occurred. If Mark had just respected Jack's wishes about PDA none of this would have happened and they could both have been spared the jagged word and questions it left them with.

   Mark sucks in a large breath that he hadnt felt flee him as he sinks back against the wall, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. He couldnt protect Jack from one asshole at the county fair, how could he possibly hope to protect him from all the countless assholes online? They could never possibly be open about their relationship when the whole world would have an opinion and the means to voice it.

  Mark's legs slowly lower him to the ground, shaking the whole journey. Could they ever possibly be happy with endless criticism and hatred for their love? A shakey sob leaves Mark's lips as he slides his hands from his eyes and into his hair at either side of his head, gripping frustratedly. But what can he do? He'd be miserable trying to hide their relationship forever, and surley so would Jack. But neither could stand the constant stream of hostility and prejudice they'd receive daily.

  So where does this leave him? two equally unsettling answers: Both he and Jack could quit youtube, which Mark could never ask Jack to do. Or, he could cut things off now, before it becomes far too painful, and he loses Jack entirely. The thought alone shreds his heart to peices and removes the air from his lungs. Not only would he lose Jack as a lover, but he'd lose his other half. His soul mate. His best friend. Is it worth it just to pacify the audience they have?

  Mark grits his teeth, wishing he could rip apart any objection or venomous comment directed toward them with brute force. He hates that the world cant accept it as easily as they should. Nothing matters if it isnt Jack, and everyone who disagrees can meet Mark in hell. But in no world can he let their venomous words ruin Jack. And he knows he can spare him, but doing so is going to destory everything that he is.

  Shakey fingers lift to the door, tapping a knuckle against the polished wood gently.

"Mark..." Jack breathes, still barely able to form words past his tight throat. Mark takes in a long breath before standing, catching sight of the ghost of the man staring back at him in the mirror. He knows what he needs to do... Tearing his eyes away from his own, he focuses on his weak fingers as they struggle to unlock and open the door. He clutches the door knob harder, brown eyes unable to meet the set of blue ones that greet him on the other side.

"Mark." Jack murmurs again, compelled to fall into his chest and dispell all of the negative emotions haunting Mark, but he holds up a hand, stopping Jack in his tracks.

  Jack's heart immediately jumps into his throat then slams into the pit of his stomach, somehow already knowing whats coming before anything leaves Mark's flat lips.

"Dont..." Jack breathes, unsure whether his feet want to step forward into Mark, or back away from him in disbelief.

"Seán we cant-..." Mark quivers quietly, gripping the bathroom door handle harder as Jack cuts him off.

"Dont do this." Jack reiterates, taking the step forward to place his hands on Mark's shoulder and jaw. Mark stiffens briefly before taking hold of Jack's wrists and moving them away.

"You know we cant keep this up." Mark's voice is a mixture of shakey firmness that causes Jack's throat and stomach to burn in protest.

"Stop it! You dont know that!" Jack stiffens further in attempts to solidify his argument. Mark's eyes meet Jack's for the first time, but they seem cold and dejected.

"Yes, I do. And so do you." Mark states, his voice icey despite the heat radiating from his body.

  Jack shakes his head, unwilling to let this fire in him die, his voice raising slightly in frustration.

"No we dont! You cant just give up on us! We-"

"There is no more we!" Mark cuts him off with equal volume, but his booming voice rumbles through Jack's body, freezing him in place for the briefest of moments. Mark is silent a moment, initially regretting everything as Jack's eyes well up with tears before remembering all that he's preventing. All the heartache, late night tears, and fear can stop right here, right now, if he just powers through this. Jack will be safe...

"How can you say that?" Jack's lip quivers but he refuses to cry. Not here. Not now.

"It was more than just me in that hotel room. I didnt go to the fair by my self. I didnt undress myself and-."

"Stop..." Mark commands, snapping his jaw shut as if to bite the end of Jack's sentance back.

Jack swallows. "Thats 'we'. That was Us. Both of us. Dont try to brush that all away-"

"Jack-."

"No! Dont call me that and make all of this seem like nothing!"

"What if it was!?" Mark snaps coldly.Jack falls silent for a moment, his firmness melting from his shoulders.

"You dont mean that." He breathes out shakily, searching Mark's expression for the lie.

"You're making this harder than it needs to be-" Mark tries, hating that those cliche words left his mouth but Jack seemingly hates them more.

"And you're making it too easy! Not everything is roses and diamonds Mark! Things are tough sometimes but this is just the start, we cant just-." Jack tries once again to place a hand on Mark's cheek but he turns his face away sharply.

"Yes, I can, because its over now. There isnt a we. Its through. Let it go."

"No!" Jack shouts again shaking his head with tears still burning his eyes, his voice breaking from the intensity of the protest.

"I fought every instinct I had to hold onto you! Fought every flinch, every panicked breath, and held your hand when I wanted to cut mine off! You cant just fucking walk away when things arent easy for you!" Jack chokes, his chest heaving slightly. Mark steps forward, watching as firece sapphire eyes melt into dejected fear in an instant.

"Who says I cant?" Mark growls lowly, hating the look of ache that paints Jack's face.

"Please... dont." Jack forces himself not to sob with a stiff swallow between the words, the plea a sharp stab in Mark's gut, melting the steel he'd created as armor.

"Just go."Mark mumbles coldly, his eyes falling to the floor, unable to witness the outrage behind Jack's silent and still figure. Stillness clouds the room, as does painful silence.

  Jack chuckles jarringly, tears flowing easily and freely now as his brows furrow with his tight expression as he backs away from Mark.

"Should have known better than to catch feelings for such fucking a flake." Jack mumbles to himself before turning abrubtly away, and not glancing back as he strides further into the house toward Mark's bedroom, coming back into sight a minute later with all his bags gathered, his eyes red but the tears no longer visible on his torn expression.

  He parts his lips seemingly to say something before snapping his jaw shut and making his way toward the front door, opening it and stepping out without the briefest of pauses.

"Sey ya 'round, Mark." He mumbles coldly before closing the door behind himself, leaving Mark still standing in the hallway, words and emotions feeling like worms wrestling in his skull unhappily.

  Its impossible to lie about the immediate regret that boils into his throat in desperation. He hated every moment of it, but he did the right thing, right? Sure sparing Jack of furture pain was the right thing. He just prevented so much deterioration... He- he made sure no one could hurt Jack like that again.

  Now, no one can call him names, no one can rip apart their love with jagged words and warped opinions. No one can sit behind their screens, sheltered and protected by anonymity and judge them, if there isnt a them to judge... Because Mark stopped it before it could happen. Jack's safe now.

  Until...

  The word punches Mark in the gut, causing him to gasp and choke, fighting the thought until it overwhelms him.

  Until Jack moves on. Moves on without Mark, and possibly faces the same hell Mark just tried to save him from. What if the next person to love Jack isnt so willing to back away? What if they allow the turmoil, what if Jack still ends up hurting, despite the precaution Mark had just taken?

  What if they love him more than the world hates them? What if they take over the job that was supposed to be Mark's? What if Jack forgets about Mark entirely?

This is all a huge mistake.

  Mark sprints to the door, whipping it open at light speed, his eyes scanning the world for the man he just pushed away, longing to drag him back and pour our a million apologies. But, theres no one. Empty streets and dim street lights. He's alone. He's going to remain alone.

  Closing the door, Mark stumbles backward into the house. He opens his mouth to the empty room and house but all words escape him. All except two, which begin to stream from him in an almost garbled mess as he once again finds himself sinking toward the floor, fearing it wouldnt be there to catch him when he finally collapses. His lips move unceasantly, wishing he could scream the words out in all of their truth as he finds himself a pathetic puddle on the wooden floor, shaking with sobs that achingly quake his muscles and bones to the core. But the words remain a repeated whisper that stings more and more as Mark gathers himself into a ball that earns him no comfort.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."