Chapter Text
The thing that was killing him was the gentleness. The strength and the sweet sensation of safety that it brought, the way it could make him feel when he neared it too close for comfort, like a fragile moth drawn to a warm, beautiful but oh so destructive flame. It hurt to want it, it hurt to think about it; it hurt not to have it yet it was even scarier to imagine how much it would hurt if he did. He couldn't have it. He shouldn't have it. It was too dangerous; it would crush him.
And still here he was. Sitting right next to that inviting source of warmth again, for the first time since a long time. Listening to the soothing, deep rumble of that voice, trying to avoid looking too often, too obviously, into the endlessness of those inscrutable, dark eyes. Their color was chocolate, the hue of something as sweet as their owner. The merry twinkle in them was bright and lively, as sparkling as stars could be in the deepest of nights. They could fool many, but not many could fool them and he was no exception. The moment that deceptively carefree gaze had cast itself upon him, he'd known that it had exposed everything he might have tried to cover up and hide, exposed it for no one else to see bar the chocolate eyes that same gaze belonged to.
But neither of them had broached the subject. They had greeted each other with a smile and a hug, a hug the repercussions of which he was feeling even still, hours after those arms had wrapped themselves around him and pressed him close to that well-built body. He had wanted to stay enfolded in that hold a little longer, instead he had pulled away too hastily, afraid. The black monster of terror was so much larger and so much more terrifying than the shy presence of longing hiding in the corner of his heart like a wounded little animal. He couldn't. He couldn't, he shouldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to.
"-any collaborative projects while you're here?"
The sudden silence made him aware that all attention was focused on him now, including that of the man to his immediate right. He felt that chocolate-hued gaze again, feverishly trying to guess the beginning of the question he'd barely caught the ending of. Collaborative projects... in general? With somebody in particular? After a few more moments of hesitation he finally replied with a 'yes' which resulted in the happy cheering of the audience, leaving him to hope that he'd managed to give a plausible response. When asked to elaborate, he evaded tactfully with some silly jokes and supposed unwillingness to spoil the surprise.
Sadly it wouldn't remain his only faux pas during the rest of the convention panel he hosted together with a few more of his kind of entertainers, YouTube stars as many were prone to call them. A term he never really endorsed, neither did he feel particularly like a star or even an entertainer today. He just felt debilitated, and perpetually anxious.
"Jetlag still gettin' to ya, eh, buddy?", the good-heartedly teasing remark following his next minor slip up was accompanied by the friendly slap of that one strong hand atop his slender shoulder, causing him to flinch. Unnoticed to everybody else. Way too obvious for ever the same eyes, brown and sweet as chocolate, astute and attentive like a lie detector.
Which was why he didn't allow himself to lie, laughing out instead - loud and boisterous, and too counterfeit to his own hearing. But vigor and laughter was his shield and sword in this and he was not willing to give up the fight just yet. Not yet. Not just yet.
He barely remembered how the rest of the panel continued and how it came to an end, somewhere along the way it all had blended into some sort of a clouded daze where his spirit was a mere spectator to the doings and sayings of his body that seemed to act separate from his mind. Going through the motions, a routine that was so familiar, so perfected, it flowed all by itself even when his heart was not in it. His thoughts were far, far away from the happenings around him.
Eventually the convention was over and he was free to go, declining the invitation to dinner from his friends whom he hadn't seen in a very long time and whose company he wanted too desperately to permit himself to have it. He told them he was tired and wanted to rest, the flight had been long and exhausting and timed rather badly which was in fact true, his plane got delayed and had landed with barely an hour left until the start of their panel. He had to rush here from the airport and even though normally all of that would have hardly left a dent in his usual energetic disposition, it was still a good enough excuse to have them let him go without appearing too suspicious to any of them. Any but one, he guessed, his own eyes diligently escaping that chocolate-hued gaze as he said his goodbyes and wished them lots of fun. They'd see each other tomorrow again.
He was off to his hotel then, alone and fighting a mauling sense of paranoia. A feeling that was actually warranted in view of everything that rested in an invisible, leaden weight atop his shoulders, yet he was persistent in trying to ignore the unwanted feelings and perceptions. He truly could use a good rest. He hadn't been getting much of it lately. But first things first - after entering his suite he took a long, hot shower, spending endless, idle minutes just standing under the downpour of water with his eyes closed and his mind wandering. The bathroom was damp and steamy by the time he was done, slipping into a pair of loose sleeper pants and a grey T-shirt, bare feet sinking into the fluffiness of the carpet in the bedroom as he'd entered it little later. He glanced towards the huge suitcase near the closet and let out a grave sigh. He should unpack. Thus it was what he set out to do, regardless of how much he didn't really feel like it.
"Hey. Are you aware that you've left your front door unlocked, you dingus?"
He startled and dropped the small stack of shirts he was going to stuff away, the pile of material soundlessly plopping to the floor near his bare feet. Swirling around, pools of clear, sharp blue came to stare into warm, fawn counterparts and his expression must have shown quite a degree of panic, causing his unexpected visitor to laugh out softly.
"Whoa, sorry. Didn't mean to nearly make you crap your pants."
Christ almighty, had he really missed to lock his hotel room door after entering...? That had been stupid. Stupid and careless and way too freaking dangerous. His mind really was all over the place, forgetting something as mundane and yet paramountly important as that.
"You alright? You seemed a little bit spooked the entire day today."
That was probably true, and he should have made a better effort to conceal it. Even though he doubted he would have been able to trick the man in front of him no matter how much he would have tried. Nonetheless he recomposed and forced his best, teasing grin onto his face.
"Aww, were you worried about me, sweet cheeks?"
His opposite however, reacted not with usual cheerfulness and some repartee remark, but placid earnestness instead: "As a matter of fact, I am worried about you. Something seems off."
Well, because something was. Not that he was willing to openly admit to it. Not that it was anybody's business altogether. Even that of his friends. Especially that of his friends. Especially this one friend.
"Nah, I'm just real tired, man. It's been one long-ass day for me." He maintained his grin - and his distance, by taking a few steps back when the other man took a few towards him.
"No, there's something else. You're different from the last time I saw you."
He laughed out; again, that overly illusory sound ringing out in his own ears. He could bet his opposite could hear the deceitfulness of it as well. "Of course I am, you big goofball! Last time you saw me in person was well over a year ago. People change." On camera, it was always something different. On camera, it was a job as much as it was fun. But when the lights went dark and the lens was off... It hadn't used to be that way a year back, either. He'd used to be pretty much the same on and off screen, but things did change. People did change because their circumstances might have. Everything did change, sometimes over time and sometimes in a blink of an eye.
"That they do." His interlocutor confirmed and closed the distance between them even further.
There was only so much space he could retreat to, bumping his slender back into the closet door, wood clanking softly against wood as he pressed himself against it. He tried not to show it, but he was getting increasingly uncomfortable under the inspection of that unreadable gaze which seemed able to read him all too easily. Mere seconds later those eyes of dark, chocolate hue were so incredibly close as one of those hands reached out to stem itself to the side of his face. The two of them were near enough to each other now that he could faintly feel the warmth radiating off the taller, broader body, swallowing hard against the agitation rising rapidly within him.
"Mark... what are you doing?" His voice unintentionally came out soft and stifled, a grave contrast to its usual vibrant sonority. Jack, that trusted alter ego of his, wasn't there to cloak his entire self akin to snuggling into a big, fuzzy coat, leaving him chilled and entirely too exposed to the uncanny scrutiny of his friend who, too, seemed different. The way the barely older man looked at him made the Ireland-born feel his insides twist and churn with an indefinable sort of disquiet. One of those hands remained near his face, yet the other one reached up and settled gently against his upper arm which flinched under the touch.
"You're trembling," Mark pointed out softly to him just then. "Why?"
He was, and he hadn't even noticed. It became even more evident when he tensed up after that smooth baritone, lowered as it was, had posed its alluding question, sending a shiver down his spine. Inches away from him, he was asking why?
"You're too close..." Entirely too close. Dangerously close. Or... not close enough? If he imagined himself wrapped up in that warmth... but was it genuine? The desire. Or was it just him seeking shelter? A sanctuary to hide in...
He knew the other man had caught him at an entirely bad time. He was exhausted from the sleepless night before his sleepless flight, worsened by constant anxiety and today's stress of the convention, as pleasant as most of their panel might have been. He couldn't think straight. For weeks now he had not been able to, and right now even more so. This was bad... all of this... the timing, this proximity, the emotions... It was all wrong and twisted and tainted, only catalyzed by the demons that had torn their way into his life.
"I've been this close before, Sean."
The abandonment of his nickname made this entirely too personal. It struck into his heart like hot iron, hammered in deeper with every next word.
"I've hugged you before. I've sat next to you before. You've never been like this."
Neither have you, he wanted to say, yet all that happened was a jittery breath. And another one and one more, before he lowered his gaze for the inability to be looking into those observant, fawn eyes anymore.
"It's... This is..."
"Different from a year ago?," Mark questioned him quietly. "Just like you seem to be?"
The other man knew. He knew, he knew, he knew. Maybe not the particularities of it, but he knew that something was up. That something was wrong. That something was off. And realizing that scared Jack even more, because it presented him the one opportunity he couldn't allow himself to take despite so very desperately wanting to. It wasn't fair... He shouldn't have come here, to this city, this convention; he should have feigned something, anything, some reason to decline. Withal that stupid, underlying hope had driven him, guided him, pushed him to go. And now here he was... making an even greater chaos of his life, an even greater mess of himself than it, than he already was.
The gentle hand on his upper arm slid upwards, slipping along the finely crafted curve of his shoulder and the dip between it and his neck, brushing even higher until that warm palm lay resting softly against his cheek.
"It's been a while, hasn't it? That you had somebody this close to you?" And it was abundantly clear that his friend meant an entirely different kind of 'being close' than that which used to be between them. It stunned him on a deeply intricate level he couldn't begin to understand; what was the older man up to? And why now all of a sudden? With what purpose, what meaning?
The hand on his cheek seemed to burn his skin... or maybe it was the deep blush that had tinted it a healthy pink color. "I don't understand..." He truly didn't. Or maybe he did, at least a part of it and that part confused him even more. He had never been more conflicted during the short span of his barely 25-year-long life. "What do you want...?"
That same hand moved again, caressing the length of its fingers along the firm set of his jawline and soon taking his chin with index and thumb to gingerly nudge his head up again so that their eyes could lock sight on each other once more.
"...to get even closer."
A temperate, aspirated whisper that fell against his lips and before he could ever say anything at all, those very lips of his were gently claimed by those of another. It pulled a soft, startled gasp from him, wholly drowned in the delicate, deceptively innocent connection of their mouths; the press of those pliant lips upon his own undemanding and yet unyielding at the same time. Jack's arms finally found to motion, shooting up to let the left one grasp at one of those stout shoulders while its right-sided twin stemmed itself against the firmness of Mark's chest, delivering a feeble attempt to push the taller presence away. To no avail, moreover he perceived the velvet pair claiming his soft own move enticingly.
He flinched and tried to pull away, only entangling himself even further into the fine net that had caught him. That arm, the one that wasn't busied with its hand keeping his chin a captive and his head and lips in place, snapped around his waist and curled a strong hold on it, pressing him up even more, all close and personal, against the stronger figure that had him imprisoned in its grasp. Resting palm flat against that sturdy chest, Jack's own fingers curled up now, clutching a handful of black material comprising the form-fitting shirt that covered his friend's torso; a desperate, failing try to resist.
This... How... His head was spinning.
Held in place so wonderfully firmly, he got squeezed even tighter and it pulled a sweetly distressed whimper from him, causing his eyes to fall semi-shut with a mild flutter of crescent-shaped, black lashes. Tension reigned supreme in every muscle, tendon and sinew of his tautened body, high voltage pinballing from synapse to synapse in jolts of tiny electric shocks.
The thing that was killing him was the gentleness. The strength and the sweet sensation of safety that it brought, the way it made him feel being too close for comfort, like a helpless moth touching its frail wings to a warm, beautiful and oh so destructive flame. It hurt to want it, it hurt to think about it; it had hurt not to have it yet it was even scarier now that have it he did. He couldn't have it. He shouldn't have it. It was too dangerous; it would crush him. It was crushing him already. The warmth, the care, the honesty of affection... The confliction, the conflict, the chaos and confusion... The inner struggle was excruciating and this entire situation... overwhelming. Too much... It was too much... He didn't know what to do... He wanted- He needed-
"Jack. Jack, hey... Hey, easy."
He didn't even notice that their kiss was no longer a kiss. That it had stopped, while those arms went on to curl themselves around him fully now, no longer holding him in place but gently bringing him into a firm embrace. He noticed only now that it shook him uncontrollably, inside and out, his breaths a messy staccato of uneven in- and exhales. A lump in his throat and the pressure of treacherous liquid burning behind blue eyes screwed shut so tightly it hurt, and he wasn't capable of pinpointing half the reasons for that unwanted, unwelcome need to let those salty droplets fall.
"It's okay... It's okay. Everything's alright."
The soothing sound of that smooth, deep timbre echoing in his ears, lips touching a soft kiss to his temple to remain lingering there in a comforting press for a few extended seconds.
Nothing was okay. None of this was alright. Everything was a terrible mess outside of the small fortress that those arms had built around him for now, having enfolded him protectively in their caring hold, hiding his quivering form away against the stronger body he clutched at.
"I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. Shhh... Easy... Easy."
Hadn't meant what? Was sorry for what? It wasn't making any sense... None of this was... He himself wasn't; hadn't been for a quite some time now. He tried to steady himself, but it was hard. He didn't want to imagine what Mark might have been thinking of him right now and frankly... he didn't have the strength to even care. He just let the other man hold him, a decision that was probably stupid... stupid and careless and so, so dangerous. Regardless... he allowed himself that moment of weakness, accepting and welcoming something he knew he couldn't, shouldn't have despite how desperately every fiber of his being wanted to own every second of it for as long as it could be granted to him.
But no, he was not willing to give up the fight. Not yet... Not just yet.
He didn't really remember how he got into bed. It was a blur of contact, warm hands on him, touching, guiding, accommodating, helping him to lie down and covering him with a snuggly blanket. The moment his head had touched the pillow, his consciousness got swallowed by pitch-black, dreamless darkness for which he was actually thankful. His dreams had been nothing but chaotic and uncomfortable for the past weeks, sometimes bordering on nightmares and sometimes going all too far beyond.
Still, he woke up again way before sunlight graced the skies. Night still claimed sovereignty outside behind the windows, the almost full moon high up on the firmament, halfway hidden by the fluff thick clouds that hid away most of the stars as well. He knew he wasn't alone even before he opened his eyes, feeling a presence there beside him, fingers fondly combing through his chestnut hair in calm, steady motions.
Same motions stopped when his eyelids drew apart and allowed those intensely blue eyes of his to see again, looking up to see Mark there, sitting on the edge of the bed. The only source of light was the bedside lamp, throwing long shadows into the room and bathing the other man's well-build figure in soft, yellowish glow. His chocolate-hued eyes seemed much darker thanks to the illumination setting, appearing almost obsidian in their color.
"What time is it...?", he questioned quietly, voice soft and groggy.
"A few minutes past three AM," Mark replied in an equally hushed intonation. "Go back to sleep." His hand reached for Jack's hair again, but the Ireland-born was quick on catching it by the wrist and pushing it away again.
"Don't..." He shuffled around and sat up in bed, scooting back a little to bring some more distance between them, the pillow scrunching up between his back and the headrest of the bed. Mark looked at him for a small, wordless moment, appearing almost a bit lost.
"Did it really freak you out that much? Me kissing you?"
This time it was on Jack to be silent for a small while. Then he exhaled a heavy breath and brought up his own hand to rack his long fingers through his anyhow tousled hair. "I... No idea. It did startle me something good," he admitted. "I was so tired and-"
Just then, it dawned on him and he gripped tight the second cushion to his side, swinging it to smack it flat against the side of his friend's face. "You asshole! You did it on purpose, didn't you?! Just to push me?!" Push him over the edge. The other man had noticed how fucked up a state he'd been in, how mentally and physically drained - which always made people's defenses, no matter how well-placed, so much weaker. If you applied even more pressure atop them then, you'd get them to break and he almost had, yesterday. He'd almost broke down and opened the gates, revealed a truth that was way too fucking dangerous to let loose. Oh, this goddamn-
He swung the pillow again but this time, Mark caught it in a grip of his own, stopping it from colliding with his head another time. "Partly, yes. I knew I wouldn't get much out of you otherwise. Look, Jack, I'm sorry."
"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" The younger man hissed, yanking at the corner of the pillow in his grasp yet his fellow YouTuber was holding on to said object just as firmly. "Do you even know-" He fell silent abruptly and just gave the pillow another angry yank.
"Know what?" Mark broached, not letting go either. "I want to know, Jack, I really do. And that kiss... it wasn't nothing. I meant it. I do want to get closer to you. If you let me."
Realizing that he wasn't gonna get that pillow back anytime soon, Jack decided to abandon it and shimmied over to the other edge of the bed instead, getting off the piece of furniture. Now on the other side of it and up on his feet, he glared daggers his friend's way.
"Shove off, okay?! I don't- It's just-" The words wouldn't come out. It wasn't even anger speaking out of him, his irritation a poor cover up for what was truly trying to push up from the inside. He couldn't let it. It was too dangerous... Too dangerous. "It's really bad timing right now, Mark. I have so much on my plate already, I can't-"
Getting up to his feet as well, Mark's voice rose up a notch in its volume as well. "Finish your goddamn sentences, man!" He demanded exasperatedly, which in turn did manage to piss Jack off in the actual sense of the word.
"Yeah, and how about - fuck you!" He spat, swirling around on his heels with the intention to rush off to somewhere, anywhere, only to get away. From the confrontation. From the worry, the care he saw etched all over that handsome face. He couldn't have that... That gentleness, the one that was killing him to even see, let alone experience. He couldn't... Couldn't, shouldn't-
He didn't get far. Mark was quick on intercepting him, a few strides brought him close enough to reach the Irishman and grab his wrist, pulling him back towards facing each other.
"Oh no, you're not running away now."
They were so suddenly so close yet again, and Jack's heart leapt up so high he could almost feel it beating in his throat instead.
"Let me help, Sean."
Again, the mention of his name. It was unusual to hear it being spoken by that voice, unusual and strangely effective all the same. It barreled through his chest and knocked the wind out of him, rendering him speech- and motionless for the few moments it took the other man to form even more tenderly murderous words.
"Whatever it is you're going through right now, it's getting to you, bad. I could see it straight away, Jack, and the moment I wrapped my arms around you back at the airport I felt it as well. You can try to hide it from others, but you can't hide it from me. Hell, you can't even hide it from others all that well. The only reason they don't ask is-"
"Because they know how to respect somebody's privacy, Mark!" He cut the hurtful flow of those persistent, gentle words the moment he managed to get his bearings back together. "Keep your nose out of other people's fucking business, understood?!" He needed to get away. He had to, now. Right now. Yanking, he tried to get his wrist out of the harmless yet steely hold those strong fingers had on it - to no avail.
"I won't," Mark replied, the smooth timbre of his voice steady and resolute. "I can't. I did that once; I kept my nose out, and my worries in. And you know what it'd cost me?" Despite all composure, there was no covering up the pain that flooded those bright, fawn eyes the very next instant, grief and remorse thick in that lowered, baritone inflection. "It'd cost me a friend, Jack. I won't lose another." The way he said the last sentence reflected a firm resolution, an iron will set in stone.
For a moment, it stupefied Jack something good. "What are you talking about?" The question wasn't even fully out of his mouth however, when it dawned on him; Daniel...? Was he talking about Daniel? His pending outrage got replaced by stun, he was entirely taken aback by that revelation prior to letting his emotions spill out through the flabbergasted tone of his voice. "I'm not... Jesus, Mark, I'm not suicidal or anything!" It wasn't that kind of problem at all. It all was a wholly, completely different issue. "I'm just... I-"
"You're in need of help." Mark persisted softly. "So let me help you, please."
The plea wasn't only in his words, it was in the affectionate gaze of his compassionate, chocolate-hued eyes as well, causing all fight to evaporate out of Jack's roused spirit. The rebellious tension slipped out of his body, leaving behind acceptance and fatigue.
"And in order to help me you had to come up and kiss me?" He chose to address an entirely different topic instead, one that was equally as uncomfortable yet less perilous to talk about. His distraction worked well enough to lead away from the primary thing he didn't want to be discussing, although it would make his overall predicament even worse as he'd soon come to find out.
"Why? Did you dislike it?"
There was something haunting about the way his friend counter-questioned him because it was... nigh predatory in some intricately thrilling, sensual kind of way. His captive wrist received an abrupt but soft pull that got him tumbling forward into those arms again, finding them locked around him in the most confusingly delightful manner.
"Or are you simply afraid?"
His hands found themselves imprisoned between the tight press of their torsos, their difference in heights minimal enough to have those lips close to his own with one perfect tilt of the other man's clever head. He could feel the heat of that plush pair tantalizingly close to his own again.
"I can't..." He murmured helplessly, searching for a way to escape the temptation by bending his own head down instead, tucking his precariously glowing face away against the curvature of Mark's shoulder and neck. A cozy little place to hide in, albeit it didn't do him much good in trying to escape the chaos of emotions his friend's warmth and presence invoked upon him.
"But you want to." Husky words whispered right into his ear now, sending a hot shiver down his spine. "So... so badly... you want to..."
And Christ, those statements weren't wrong. It was as though Mark could read him like an open book, or maybe he wasn't putting up good enough of a fight to either hide or deny any of it - his mind wanted to, but his heart and his body were betraying him in the most scandalous ways. The longing was strong, and it showed... too clearly, it showed.
"Please..." He exhaled in a barely audible, jittery breath into the curvature of that neck he held his face pressed against, inhaling just as shakily and making matters even worse because that inhale brought with it the befogging mixture of fine cologne and a personal scent that was entirely Mark's own.
"Oh, I can please you."
Those lips touched to the outer shell of his ear and the contact, in pair with the confidently suggestive sound of that voice, made his knees weaken abruptly.
"I can please you in a million different ways if you only let me."
"That's not..." His heart stuttered and so did his breath when his earlobe was gently captured by soft lips and those arms squeezed him closer more tightly. It was hard to articulate himself especially when thoughts were becoming more and more clouded inside his head. "That's not what I- Oh shit..." He couldn't help his eyes falling shut when the next kiss was touched to the overly sensitive spot right beneath same earlobe. It was one of his most receptive spots, making him shiver and bite down on his lip to keep any even more embarrassing sounds from slipping out.
No, he was not willing to give up the fight. And yet, just for now... just for a little while... he surrendered.