Mark had spent the night again in London, he was really loving the place, perhaps he'd live here. So much culture and history. He could get used to it. He was walking down a path in St. James's Park, watching the swans drift in the lake as they courted each other. Despite the warmth of the summer, he wore a baseball cap to hide his colored hair, and in his blue button-down shirt and blue jeans, he had his satchel slung over his shoulder. Off into the distance, he could see the London Eye, the world's largest Ferris wheel, as it slowly turned. It was a beautiful site. He walked over and stood against the rail that kept people from being able to walk into the lake when someone came over and stood next to him.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" came a familiar Irish accent.
Mark looked up quickly to his left at the man with a tuft of green sticking out from his dark green hat. Jack wasn't looking at him but was watching the birds swim around the lake. He wore his red v-neck Henley shirt, black jeans with holes in the knees, and Converse shoes. His collection of bracelets was on his arm, a travel bag was slung over his back, and an upset expression was on his face. When Mark didn't answer, he turned his steely blue eyes towards him, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Well?" Jack asked calmly.
"How? ... What? ... Dammit, Felix," Mark cursed, turning back towards the lake. "He promised he wouldn't say anything," Mark said more to himself than his friend.
"No, he told me he promised he wouldn't tell me what the fuck is wrong with one of my best friends, but he never promised to keep your whereabouts a secret," Jack corrected him.
Mark hung his head. Felix had used a loophole, even after everything he had told the Swedish meatball.
"Dammit, Jack, just go home," Mark almost whispered.
"Not until you fucking tell me what's going on," Jack growled.
It was getting to be too much. How was he supposed to keep his distance when Jack was standing right there, nearly touching his shoulder with his? How was he supposed to keep his secret when the man he loved more than life was demanding to know what it was?
"What the fuck does it matter?" Mark said forcefully.
He pushed back from the rail and walked away, crossing the path and entering the grassy area.
"Where the hell do you think you're going? Get back here," Jack demanded, following close behind.
"GOD DAMMIT Seán! I'm getting away from you," Mark bellowed.
Exploding pain shot through his chest as he knew he was about to make the worst mistake of his life, but he couldn't help it; it needed to be done to move on. It was either this or living the rest of his life in the agony of never being able to be loved by someone he longed for so desperately.
"What?" Jack was clearly confused.
The Irishman stopped in his tracks for a second while Mark kept walking. However, in a moment, the American was quickly flung back when Jack grabbed him by the arm and jerked him around to face him.
"What the fuck do you mean to get away from me? What the fuck did I do?" Jack demanded to know.
Mark dropped his satchel on the ground. He was really pissed and was ready for a fight. Jack followed suit and dropped his travel bag on top of Mark's, their personal belongings spilling into each other.
"What did you do? You... everything, Seán! You did everything. You are everything, ... and I can't handle it anymore," Mark rambled.
"What? That doesn't even make sense," Jack's confusion was evident in his body language and expression.
Mark's hands were clenched as he pushed them up into his temples. His mind was reeling with all the words that wanted to escape, the confession that was right there on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released, to be heard. Jack tried to reach out to him, but Mark flinched back. The last thing he wanted right then was physical contact. It would destroy him to feel Jack's touch.
"Dammit, Seán, you're killing me," Mark raged.
"I'm not fucking doing anything to you. You're the one who's been ignoring me. ... What the fuck did I do wrong? ... Talk to me, dammit!" Jack's voice cracked towards the end.
Mark looked up and saw Jack's eyes red and worry etched across his face. He was doing this. He was causing this grief to appear on his love's beautiful face.
"I ... I can't. It won't matter. It won't change anything. ... You won't change," Mark tried to explain, his eyes burning from the oncoming tears.
"How the fuck am I supposed to change if you won't tell me what's wrong," Jack pleaded, taking a step closer to his friend.
Mark was at his wit's end. The words, the confession of his heart, were right there, just begging to be said, so close to the edge of being verbalized, to be set free and heard by the one person who needed to hear it most. But he held it in, and he grasped it like a desperate man clinging to his dead lover that he couldn't let go. But the pain was too great. Heartache drove him to his knees as he fell into the soft grass with his head in his hands. Tears streaming down his face. When he felt Jack drop to the ground before him, gently placing his hands over his, he finally cracked.
"I love you, Seán," Mark whispered.
"What?" Jack asked.
Mark wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't hear him or didn't believe him, but he continued nonetheless.
"I have loved you since the moment I met you. No, even before that, when I first heard your beautiful laugh, I loved you. I've wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you how much I care, but no matter how I tried, you were always out of reach." Mark wasn't even looking at Jack, he just kept his head facing down, as tears slipped into the soft green beneath him. "I can't do it anymore, Seán; I just can't. It hurts too much. I can't keep pretending like nothing is wrong and that I'm not dying inside every day. I'm so sorry, Seán, but I must stop this before it destroys me completely." Mark said in the same whisper. Jack had leaned his head against his, and Mark could hear the man sniff as Jack had his own tears running down his face.
"Go home, Seán. ... Please, ... leave me be," Mark begged.
Jack's voice was broken as he tried to speak. "Mark... please, don't do this."
"I have to Seán. Please ... go," Mark said quietly.
A sob tore through Jack's body, and he could feel the Irishman gently squeeze his hands as they lowered to Mark's knees. But then Jack reached back up and softly placed his hands on either side of Mark's face, kissing his forehead gently. Jack picked up his bag and belongings, and Mark listened as his footsteps quietly left him. When he looked up, it was only to see a glimpse of the most important man in his life walk away.
YOU ARE READING
My Everything (Septiplier Story)
Fanfiction**This is a sequel!! This story continues from the end of Actual Boyfriends, written by Ashlee Geary. If you haven't read that story yet, you really should before starting this one! Thank you!!** ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~...
