Oneshots » Septiplier

III. I Bring The Weather With Me

"Is black a colour?" I enthousiastically read the Tweet out loud. Man, I love those 'Reading Your Comments'-videos. They are so fun to make and are totally unexpected.

I lift my microphone and move closer to my camera.

"Black is the colour of my soul," I joke in the microphone, my voice dark, low and daring, and try to hold back a grin, but fail.

I set my microphone back onto my desk and sink back into the chair again. After scrolling through some more Tweets – from which most are asking for my opinion on the current world status or other negative ones – I finally find a normal, positive one.

"Are you and Mark still together? You barely do collabs anymore," I read, my voice turning from lively to serious.

I hesitate before answering.

"Yes, we are," I begin honestly.

"We are both just very busy. And to top that, he has been to a family gathering for a week," I stop to glance at my watch.

"And he should be on the plane back right now."

I gulp. Bite my lip. Look down at my lap.

"We had a fairly big fight two weeks go. Nothing too serious, but that's also one of the reasons we didn't film together and didn't even respond to one another's Tweets."

I look up at the screen again with sad eyes. I quickly shake my head so the thoughts of Mark would vanish.

I scrolled through some more Tweets, and finally found a neutral one.

"Do you speak Gaelic?" I read aloud.

I shake my head vigorously.

"Nope," I respond.

"Barely any Irish person my age speaks Gaelic. It just simply wasn't teached here. English is my first language and the only one I spea-"

Suddenly my phone starts vibrating and making sounds - my ringtone.

"Who in the world calls me at 1 A.M.," I mumble angrily to myself. I pick up my phone and see that it is Mark who is calling me.

From that very moment my anxiety started growing.

I look up at the screen with a uneased expression as I answer the phone call. I bring my hand up to my mouth and start biting on one of my nails. I don't know, this feeling of anxiety and concern just washed over me.

"Hello?" My voice is shaking.

"Hi Seán," Mark says. His voice sounds calm yet hastily.

"What is happening? Why are you calling me?"

"I'm on the plane," he starts. As he said those four words, I know something is wrong. I don't know what, but I just hope it isn't as bad as the voice inside my head is screaming.

In my head I cross my fingers. Deep down I pluck four-leaved clovers. Mentally I throw salt over my left shoulder.

"And the pilots just announced," He gulps down something what sounds like a sob. I don't want him to say it. I want to yell to him to shut up.

"The plane is going to crash."

"What?" My voice is filled with disbelief and horror. My face suddely turned pale, my limbs started shaking heavily. I'm suddenly desperate for oxygen.

"There's something wrong with the motor. There is no way it can be fixed."

I suddenly hear the motor roaring. I suddenly hear people screaming on the other side of the phonecall.

Though I'm not sure if those sounds really come from the plane or from the voices in my head.

"Seán? A-Are you alright?" Mark stutter.

"Y-Yes," I sob quietly.

I lied. I'm not alright. There is a pause.

"I'm sorry about the fight," Mark says out of nowhere.

"Me too," I confess. I put the phone on speaker and lay it on top of my desk.

"It was all my fault." I bury my head in my hands.

"No, it wasn't," Mark says lovingly.

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have told you about my roommate." I could hear that Mark was genuinly sorry.

"I shouldn't have been jealous," I insist.

"We were both wrong," the other male says, not wanting to talk about it.

"Probably."

All of a sudden it is quiet, and everything feels normal. Except for the voices in my head screaming. Except for my limbs that feel numb. Except for the darkness that comes creeping in on the side of my view.

"Seán," I suddenly hear. I look up.

It was just Mark. His voice echoes throughout the whole room. I looked up at the camera. It was still rolling.

"I love you," I feel like he's smiling, though I also feel like he's crying.

"I love you too," I respond.

It is quiet again. I hear Mark sighing. He says the three words that I didn't want him to say ever.

"This is it."

And at that exact moment my world comes crashing down. Breaking my numb limbs. Eliminating every innocent person. Demolishing my soul. Crushing my lungs.

"M-Mark," I stutter, sobbing.

"I-I... I don't want to... I don't want-"

"I know," he shushes.

"Seán?" Mark's voice is questioning.

"Will you miss me when I'm gone?"

What. Why is he asking that.

"O-Of course I will. Why do you think-"

"I am the storm that never leaves."

"Mark," I say confused.

"I don't understand."

"I bring the weather with me." His voice is monotonous. Is he possessed?

"M-Mark, I... I don't-"

"Seán, I love you," he interrupts.

"But I'll sleep with the stars tonight."

On the other side, I hear people screaming. Out of fear. Desperate for someone to help. I hear people having panic attacks. I hear people yelling names of people that have passed out because of the lack of oxygen.

And then, an explosion.

And then, nothing.

"Mark?" I sob.

"Mark!" I yell louder, hoping he would respond.

"MARK!" I cry.

I know he won't respond.

Ever again.

As I lay down my phone, I can't breath. I can't see. I can't think.

I hear drops of rain fall on my window. They comfort me a little. They are the sounds that I'm used to hearing.

After a few moments the clouds burst open, rain crashing against the street, buildings, my window.

"You bring the weather with you," I whisper to the window, to the sky. To nothing and no one in particular.