you saved the world from me [septiplier]

xiv. where i broke my only promises

"The heart was made to be broken."

–Oscar Wilde

⧔⋯⧕

"HE broke your heart, yet you're going to his wedding, Jack. You're going to see the guy you loved get married, that's like salt in the wound!"

"Keyword: Loved. I'm over him now, Mark, and I t'ink he might want to rekindle our friendship, seein' as he actually went out of his way to ask me t'ere."

"Or he's just being a dick and inviting you so that he can break your heart again!"

Jack sighed, it was the third time that week they'd had this discussion, and he was starting to get tired of it. He knew Mark had good intentions and he appreciated them, but it was exactly the opposite of what he needed. He himself wasn't one hundred percent sure what Seamus' intentions were.

"That was years ago, we've both grown up. We're grown-ups now! Adults! I know him, and even at the time he wouldn't even have considered doin' t'at."

"Seán, he stabbed you in the back when you were most vulnerable, is that the Seamus you know?!"

"Please don't call me that," Every trace of anger that had been on Mark's face disappeared when he heard Jack's pained whisper. The Irishman knew he sounded like he had been stabbed with a knife, or something equally painful, and, though some might call it overdramatic, that was how that name felt, especially from the mouth of someone he l– cared about. It was as if he'd be hurt any minute, as if he was going to be told their friendship was all a massive joke. His – no, the – name was associated with Seamus, who had wrecked it for him, so he did what everyone did with wrecked things, he threw it away.

"Shit, Jack..."

"He used to call me t'at, he called me that right before...Listen, Mark, I haven't forgiven him fer what he did, but I know it's also my own fault. I'm not even sure if he actually wants t' be friends again. I'm really fookin' confused and emotional at t'is point, so this argument isn't really helpin' me right now, and all I really need is someone who'll be t'ere fer me if everyt'in' goes t' shit...Please, Merk...can ya just...pretend t' think he has good intentions?"

"I...fine, I will, but if things go to shit, I will punch him."

A grin found it's way onto Jack's face, "That's why I invited ya, everyone needs a good ol' superhero like Markiplier t' protect 'm!"

⧔⋯⧕

Mark looked very handsome in his black tuxedo, his red hair surprisingly complementing it. Jack himself was wearing a dark blue tux and had chosen to put on his glasses for this event. His hair, unpredictable as ever, was curly and in all honesty getting on his nerves. He thought he looked like a joke. Mark had assured him he looked positively sexylicious.

"That isn't even a word," Jack rolled his eyes, trying to fix the mess.

"You're a higher level of sexy, it needs a new word, so now you're positively sexylicious."

"Shut up, ya big goof."

"Stop doing that to your hair," Mark said, stepping in front of him and grabbing his wrists to prevent any further movement, "It looks great."

Jack's heart skipped a beat. His breath was caught in his lungs and he was paralysed by fear.

Why was he feeling this?