Markiplier Imagines

106 | coming back home

Of course, you stayed away from the one place, the one reason you were coming back to Cali, and drove to the old vacation spots you used to go to. That's where you remembered the most distinct moments of your relationship, the memories you never, ever wanted to let go for fear of losing who you were. He was a part of you just as you were him, and the two years you spent in New York felt empty in comparison to what it felt like with him.

After that, you made the trip back to L.A.

The roadways felt so familiar, and the shops you were obsessed with were still open and functioning, yet there wasn't a face you recognized on the sidewalk. You decided that maybe, just maybe, you could hit up a few old friends, find a place to crash for a few days and then decide if you wanted to leave.

Until then, you chose to drive through the neighborhoods you used to drive daily, going from one place to another and running errands. Music played a little loud from your radio as you turned onto the street where your old apartment was, and you could see that it was occupied once more ─ Jery was always obsessed with making sure all of his apartments were filled, "Better for my business," he'd say.

You still remembered moving in on the first day, and that feeling that held your stomach in a ball of excitement as you thought of everything that might happen to you in the next few years of your life. For the first week and a half, you didn't have any furniture, so that time was mostly filled with going to IKEA and finding some really nice, Swedish stools that would go excellent with the white aesthetic of your small, almost studio apartment.

Then you had people, specifically one person, that would come over and help you build it all over a cup of wine for you, and water or juice for him. After that, the two of you would just sit on the couch (that had been built the first round of IKEA purchases) and talk. He always talked about the wonders of life, how you were born at this time and it was like fate was finally being nice to him for once.

"I just," he started, closing his eyes and resting his head atop of yours, which had been resting on his shoulder while your legs went over his lap. "I just really, really need you in my life, Y/N. I... I love you."

That was the first time you'd ever said I love you to one another. It was eight months (almost) into a relationship that was slowly progressing, and that had started as a friendly gesture when he had been in Ohio and a mutual friend of yours had introduced you.

To say that you didn't miss it now, well that would be an understatement. You wanted everything back to the way it was, but it was too late. You had left, and he had probably moved on to better things, better places, better people. 

The grip you had on your steering wheel had tightened in the time you were lost in your thoughts, and your subconscious had brought you to the one place you promised yourself you wouldn't go for fear of hurting the one love of your life. You had remembered him moving all about, never being able to stay at one house for long because of the fans that he had acquired through his job with YouTube.

So this house, this house was the one he lived in two years ago. You were almost relieved when there weren't any cars in the driveway, but that feeling was crushed by the person that opened the door – none other than Tyler, the aforementioned "mutual friend." Your hands and feet reacted before your mind and soon enough you were parking parallel to the curb and hopping out of your car.

Tyler watched as you stood and after mere seconds, recognition crossed his features and he was smiling from ear to ear. You raced to his arms, hugging him as tight as possible in complete silence. It was nice to be in the arms of your best friend again and to smell the fresh scent of pine that Tyler never seemed to shake.