Markiplier and JackSepticEye Imagines

The Soloist (Mark)

(Word Count: 1358)

She sank into the cushioned auditorium seat, the squeak of it louder than the throng of people chatting around her. She was rather excited for the performance to begin, the choir being said to be the best it's been in years. She was more than thrilled for the whole experience, the last song being the one she looked forward to most. The lights began to dim over the quieting audience, all of them finding their seats and preparing for the choir to take center stage.

The first song was bold and impressive. They sung together in unison, the pianist hitting every note with grace. Their next few were equally as remarkable, each line being sung with great skill and power. No voice stood out over each other; every one of their voices blended with one another impeccably. Like always, they ended their concert with Silent Night. Every light in the room was turned off save for a single spotlight, shining on a member of the choir. He straightened his posture, beginning the piece as the conductor instructed.

His voice was beautiful. Every single syllable was pronounced with such astounding grace, every note hit with precision. The entire room sat in silence, every last bit of their attention focused on the choir on stage, their soloist sounding astonishingly brilliant. His deep voice hung in the air like fog, forcing everyone in the room to be clouded by the transcendent sound of his singing. Not a single person dared to move, afraid that they might ruin the beauty of that moment with a sound. Nobody blinked, their bodies wanting to absorb every second of the stunning performance. Every eye was on the soloist, the other performers seeming inadequate compared to him.

He stood tall, his tuxedo fitting his form nicely. His hair was slicked back in a professional manner, confidence and charisma radiating off of his body. He seemed so involved in his own singing that he tuned the other performers out as they joined in, his voice sticking out amongst the throng of vocalists. Their voices harmonized together so well that it seemed professional; like it wasn't a mere high school performance. Each pitch seemed perfectly in tune, Each word sung so clearly that even those with deficient hearing could understand every syllable. It was a truly surreal moment, one so beautiful that no microphone could do it any justice. No recording would ever live up to the beauty of that moment, and the entire auditorium of listeners knew that. Not a single phone, nor camera was held by anybody in the audience, their bodies too frozen in amazement to move a muscle.

As soon as the choir's last word rang out, the crowd exploded in applause. Never in their lives had they seen something so gorgeous, so magnificently executed. Grown men and women weeped at its glorious sound, and children clapped wildly. The entire room stood and cheered deafeningly, every eye focused on the soloist. There was nothing more wonderful than what he'd done, and he knew that he did well. He bowed confidently at the top of the rafters, his fellow vocalists clapping for him as well. They exited the room in long strides, each one of them having a wide smile on their faces. None of their proud grins matched that of the girl's.

She exited quickly from the auditorium, beating the crowd out into the lobby. She ducked into the choir room, a wide smile on her face. Tears of pride sat in the corner of her eyes as she waited patiently for the soloist to return from the changing rooms. And after many minutes of waiting, he emerged from the depths of the back hallway, a bulky backpack swung over his shoulder. He took notice of her small form sitting in the corner of the room and grinned. He dropped his bag and lifted her up, twirling her around in a hug and planting his soft lips upon hers. The soloist pulled away, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grasping tightly onto her hand as he pulled her out of the choir room and out into the lobby.

Many people stopped to compliment him and gush about how beautiful his voice was. Many other woman spoke to him in a very flattering manner, but with every flirty remark that they made, he squeezed her hand. He was the soloist, that was true, but he was her soloist. His beautiful voice was at her arsenal at all times, singing to her whenever she needed a reminder that not everything that existed was bad. He kept her sane in times of great need, his godly voice being her only source of light when things seemed too dark to get out of. He was hers to love and nurture and support. He did the same back, his gorgeous voice doing all it could to help her when she needed it most.

The two of them finally managed to emerge into the cold of the night, the tight crowd in the lobby becoming too hectic for either of their liking. He lead her to his car, throwing his belongings into the back seat. He looked at her lovingly, his warm brown eyes sending butterflies soaring through her stomach. She could feel her heart leaping out of its chest, her brain exploding into a lovestruck mess. Her lips pulled back into a wide smile, incapable of holding back her merriment. She felt tingles shooting through her body, every muscle within urging her to reach out and hold him. She never wanted to let him go, never wanted to leave his side. She felt as though the entire universe would fade away if they sat there longing enough, nothing but themselves for the rest of eternity. She felt all of these emotions crashing down on her like waves, every last thought she had coming from that single, heartwarming gaze.

The soloist drove cautiously down the old, cracked roads that lead to her home. He drove slowly, careful not to hit woodland creatures that meandered into the road. The headlights of his car illuminated the path in front of them, the only sound being heard was that of his old car's engine. They sat in a comfortable silence, the events of the night leaving them both speechless. He knew that his voice would need a few days of recovery before he should sing with such intensity again, and she knew that if she attempted to speak, her voice would crack under the emotions she held in after his performance. The quiet that fell upon them was not uncomfortable in the slightest, but rather a loving, understanding silence. They were satisfied just being in each other's presence, so contempt that not a single word needed to be spoken to understand the other's feelings. He knew how proud she was of his magnanimous performance, and she knew how much he appreciated the support of her presence at the concert.

A soft, disappointing sigh was let out as they pulled into the girl's driveway. She didn't want him to leave her alone to her own thoughts and the crushing reality of her home life, but she knew that he had more important things to do, celebrating to be done. She longed to be able to spend the night with the soloist, but she knew that no deity, no matter how powerful, could grant her unreachable wish.

"Goodnight, Mark," she said softly. And with great discouragement, she planted a kiss on his cheek and exited his vehicle, watching dejectedly as he left. She entered her home with great sorrow, being sure to keep quiet as to not wake her father. She passed his sleeping form silently, unfazed by the abundance of empty beer bottles that surrounded his recliner. She entered her tidy room and enclosed herself inside, collapsing on her bed with a hollow feeling in her heart. She didn't bother changing into more comfortable clothes before curling into a ball under her blankets. She fell asleep with a veil of anguish cast over her heart, dreaming of the soloist singing her a bittersweet lullaby.

******
This was written by mine and Andy's good friend Meghan. It's not what I promised would come out, and I know it's been, like, a week since I last updated this, but it's really really good. This wasn't the exact story, I Did change it around a bit so that it would be a bit more like a oneshot, but the original was inspired by Mark.

I'll most likely be updating one more time today, only because it's been a full week since I last updated. Expect either part two of Mr. McLoughlin or part three of Priority. I'll probably be doing nothing but watching YouTube and working on Wattpad all day (all my friends are busy) so I'll most likely be getting a lot done.

Fun Fact: I have 42 parts in this story, and only about 1/4 of them are published already. A few of them are just ideas that I haven't fully fleshed out yet, but I'll get them posted eventually.

Happy reading,

Allie B.