Markiplier Smuts VI

Cooler Than Me I

A/N: Welcome to the next book. I know I said the last one would be music based, and some of the chapters were, but this one is going to be legit music stuff. I promise. This song is "Cooler Than Me" by Mike Posner

Ever lose contact with a friend? It's rough, especially when it happens for no reason. Mark and I had no falling out, we had no...anyting. We just faded. I'm well aware that his channel took off and he took off for LA, but I can't help but feel a bit miffed that he just disappeared from my life. We went from talking daily to never talking. I've reached out a million times, and honestly, I realize now I'm setting myself up to get hurt each time I try to talk to him. I've reached my boiling point. I can't even look at his channel anymore because I miss him and him not talking to me is killing me. I snatched my phone from the countertop. I knew damn well that I had the right number for him so I decided to shoot him a heartfelt message or ten.

I instantly regret messaging him. What had I just said about setting myself up to get hurt? I squeezed my phone tightly fighting back tears of anger. "Fucking Mark." I muttered, slamming the phone down on the coffee table. I looked at my computer. YouTube was up on the screen. I tried stopping myself, but I couldn't...I found his channel and watched his most recent upload. Then I heard it: my phone's notification tone for texts. I hadn't text anyone but Mark. I nervously picked up my phone and looked at the phone.

I stared at my phone for a moment, trying not to get my hopes up. He'd said something like that just before leaving LA and it was utter bullshit as far as I could tell.

God, I felt so good and so bad for saying that. A few more messages came in from Mark, and I didn't even bother looking at them. I closed the lid of my laptop and went outside for a smoke. What a fucking jerk. He got cool and moved to LA. Big whoop. Millions of people have...he's not even as rich and famous as almost all of them, so his attitude just makes no sense. As far as celebrities go, he's a fucking nobody. Someone ought to tell him that. I tossed my cigarette butt on the porch and stomped on it. Sadness had definitely turned to anger, and now the anger was gradually turning to not caring. I marveled at the fact that he tried to tell me he really cared. What a liar...I don't know what's more insulting, him ghosting on me, or him lying to me about ghosting. I decided to just go to bed for the night, what's the point in staying awake brooding like a teenager? I changed into some pajamas and went straight to bed, feeling a mix of emotions. Tomorrow had to be better, right?