Jack feels like he hasn't seen Mark in so long! Honestly, he’s getting worried (and totally doesn't miss him or something, what?), and ended up texting him. In response, he’d received a single text, an invitation to come over for Honey Bunches ASAP, and he drops everything to head to his room.
Not even knocking, he slips into Mark's room to find the other man already in bed. Shooting a sleepy smile over to him. His heart skips despite himself, dumb butterflies fluttering in his stomach, and he grins broadly in response. “Hey, Markimoo. Been awhile,” he says, leaning against the wall as he shuts the door behind him.
It feels like something inside of him is clicking back into place, an unnameable something that he hadn't even noticed was in disarray.
“Sorry, man. Things have been… hectic, to say the least,” Mark replies, a bit sheepishly. They haven't seen each other in weeks, really.
“Oh-ho-ho, these things better’ve been mighty important, otherwise I'm completely cuttin’ ya off from my life. Snip snip, asshole,” Jack replies, joke all teasing, and he's rewarded by the widening of Mark's smile, the crinkle of his eyes. Thrum.
“Oh, so important Jackaboy, you don't even know. But if you need me on my knees, begging for forgiveness, I understand. Just…” He gives a yawn, stretching out a little, and Jack swallows, fighting a blush. “...after our nap, hopefully? I worked preeeetty hard to get ahead of schedule for this for you, so… why are you still across the room?”
Jack chuckles softly, cheeks a bit warm, just… happy, really, to be considered. Especially since he’d been feeling really neglected and… unimportant, as of late. Not that he’d ever tell him that. He just pushes himself off the wall, striding over to that bed. Climbing on, curling up right against Mark, head pressed to his chest. His stresses seem to melt away as Mark wraps his arms around him, keeping him close, and he lets his eyes droop closed, listening to his steady heartbeat. Smiling.
He doesn't want to ask, but he suspects that the time away has everything to do with Shawna. She's been a sore point between them for a while, a subject they both knew better than to bring up - Mark, because Jack has been very open about his distaste for her and the way she treats him, and how she led to their falling out, and Jack, because of how she treated him and how she’d outed his “past” love for Mark. The most they've gotten to civilly discussing is when Mark would give him a small update, at Jack's light prodding (because he really worries), and Jack gave the least aggressive advice he could. There were arguments, when they pushed it too far, and both of them hated it.
“So… these so-called important things?” he asks hesitantly, and Mark's grip tightens on him briefly. Possibly understanding where his worried mind is going.
“I… uh. I was spending more time with Shawna,” Mark starts, and Jack tenses a bit, because of course she was trying to steal him away again, keep Mark “safe” from Jack, the bi-- “...because I was trying to find the right time to break up with her.”
Jack blinks, the words difficult to process - and then he's pushing himself up, staring down at Mark with wide eyes. “Holy shit.” Finally. “Are… are y’ okay??” he asks, trying to keep the utter relief clear from his voice. Mark is… Mark is safe, completely safe, he finally took Jack's advice, he…
He's single, some shitty part of his brain whispers, but he already knows how Mark feels on that front. He hates the part of his brain that even offered up the idea.
Mark chuckles a little, smiling warmly up at him. Fondly. Eyes sweet, like melted chocolate, fixed upon him like he's the most amusing thing he's ever laid his eyes on. Jack wishes he could keep those butterflies from flapping their wings harder, keep the warmth from spreading through his veins, but as always, resistance is futile. “I'm… great, Sean. Really. I mean, it's weird, and I… I loved her, y'know?” Jack tries not to react outwardly at that, but the words make him feel a bit nauseous. “But… something's changed.”
He nods a little in response, accepting the words as truth, and lets himself lay back on his chest, rather than just stare into Mark's eyes until he inevitably creeps his best friend out. “What changed?” he asks, and he wishes that part of him wasn't hopeful that it could be… could be…
“...Can you keep a secret? And promise not to judge me?” Mark asks, voice a bit smaller, but there's an odd… excitement behind it.
Jack bites his lip a little, trying to think through all the possibilities. Fighting that damned hope. “O’ course, Marky. Cross my heart and hope ta die.”
There's a beat of silence as Mark considers.
“I'm sorta… with Thomas.”
There's only confusion inside of him at the proclamation, the very concept absurd to him, and he just lays there, trying to make sense of them.
“...With?” he asks, finally, befuddlement seeping into the word.
“We're… dating, actually. Officially, since the breakup.”
For a moment, the words just bounce off of him, Jack's entire being rejecting the implications behind them. But they must ricochet off the wall, because they're slamming into him once more and sinking in, weighty, painful. Like a death sentence.
“But… you're straight?” he manages, somehow keeping the sheer panic he suddenly feels out of his tone. All that warmth from just a moment ago is gone, replaced by cold dread.
“I thought so too. But… I don't know. It's weird, I know. I think there's always been like, something that I've just neglected for so long. And I just… I love him more than anyone I've ever been with in the past. He makes me feel better than all of them, anyway.”
Jack struggles to keep his breathing under control, squeezes his eyes shut tight against the tears. They leak out anyway.
He's not straight. He's not straight and he still doesn't love you. He's not straight, and he chose someone else. He doesn't want you, Jack. You don't deserve him.
The devastation and utter helplessness he feels is overwhelming, his thoughts turning against him so damn fast, and he feels so hollow, burned out suddenly. He just wants to go back to his room, sleep, sob his eyes out, scream that this isn't fair. Mark just… doesn't want him. Jack is so completely and wholly devoted to this sweet boy, and he… he doesn't feel the same. He should be okay with this, in a way - he has Phil, after all, and shouldn't that be good enough?
He suddenly realizes, with painful intensity, that he would leave Phil in an instant if Mark loved him back.
He bites hard enough on his inner cheek to draw blood, fighting his swirling emotions to try and tune back into whatever Mark is saying. Oblivious, rambling.
“...and maybe I should feel more guilty, or something, but I'm just… I dunno, happy. I honestly don't know if I've ever been this happy before. Maybe back--”
“Does he treat you right?” Jack cuts in, voice a bit thick, but it doesn't waver. He prays Mark attributes this to tiredness.
“...He does. He really, really does.”
“Then that's all I need t’ hear. As long as y'r happy Mark.”
