You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for the Future

"Just, hear me out for one minute, okay?" Jack asks, needing space to explain himself. Wishing he has a bit more time and a bit less publicity.

Mark nods, saying nothing. He's terrified as well, completely unsure as to how the Irishman will want to proceed. He tired as best he could to build some type of defense around his heart, but if there was anyone who could break through it, that would be Jack.

"I broke up with Signe," he begins, speaking quickly so Mark can't interrupt. "For real this time. Officially, we're done. And I know what you are thinking, but I did it for me. Because, you know what, I haven't been happy with her for years. I knew that three months ago, I knew it a year ago, but now, I've finally done something about it. And it hurt, and it was messy, but damn it's such a relief to finally be able to let her go."

Jack pauses, taking a large breathe. Mark's face is complete unreadable, expression utterly blank. Jack's terrified to continue, figured Mark would have given some indication through his first confession, but he forces himself forward.

"And I don't know if this is too fast," Jack begins, slower, "and I don't know if you even feel this way about me anymore, and I barely know anything, in all reality. But, I wanna be with you, Mark. I... I love you, okay? A-and I know I hurt you, and I-I know I don't deserve you, but goddamn it, I will spend my entire life making it up to you."

Jack hates to admit that his eyes are watering terribly, his voice wavering. A tear trickles from his eye, but he doesn't wipe it away. He feels utterly vulnerable, and even though it hurts him to tear his heart open, he would do it for Mark. He knows, if anyone could put him back together, it's Mark.

"Jack, I," he starts but hesitates, staring too deeply into the wet, blue eyes. "I can't do it. I can't do secrets and lies and distance. God, I can't handle the distance. I want to with someone: actually with them. I can't- I won't get hurt anymore. I just can't take it."

"I can't tell you it will never hurt," Jack admit, eyes searching Mark's face because there is something there. "I can't tell you I won't fuck up. I can't tell you the universe won't fuck us over. Maybe every relationship is just doomed to monotony. But, even if that is true, I want to be with you. I'll give up everything for the opportunity to fall out of love with you."

"Jack," Mark starts but he can't finish. He wipes the tears rolling down his cheeks with the heel of his hand, shoulder shaking with each breath. "I... I can't. I just can't. It won't work. It can't work."

Jack thinks his chest may have caved in, knows the pain in the heart can't be from words alone. His hand comes to his mouth, in a fruitless attempt to seal his sobs inside his lips, but he bumps his mic. His misery turns to white hot rage as he nearly rips the technology from his body. He manages to drag a hand through his hair instead, tugging hard enough to pull out green strands.

"You're right," Jack sighs, tears falling from red rimmed eyes. "You're so totally right. Jack and Mark could make it work. But Markiplier and JackSepticEye? Not a chance in the world."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mark asks, wet eyes staring into crystal blue.

"It means this!" Jack nearly snarls, jabbing at the mic next to his mouth. "It means all of this," he continues, throwing his hands out dramatically. "It means I love you," he finishes, voice soft and sad, "but I can't love all this twice over."

Mark sighs, his fingers brushing his own mic. "It would be so hard to be together, Jack. Impossible, probably. With how our lives are. With how we are. I want it to work. I want it to be the two of us. But, look at our lives. It will never be just us."

Jack nods, swallowing hard. "We probably won't last a week. But, those six days beforehand would be the best days of my life."

"Is it worth it?" the raven demands, voice nearing desperate. He can't understand his heart: it's drive to try despite everything. "All that pain? For a few fleeting moments?"

"I don't know," the Irishman admits, wiping a tear from his eye. "But I'm here, aren't I?"

Mark blows a long stream of air from his lungs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He runs nervous fingers through his dark hair, the gnaw of uncertainly at his core.

"If you don't love me anymore," Jack offers, eyes on the ground, "then this shouldn't even be a conversation. I won't force you back."

Mark release a little laugh, shaking his head lightly, wondering how he managed find to be the most oblivious human on earth. "Jack, I love you. I love you, so much. I won't be standing here if I could just walk away from you... from us."

Jack's heart jumps at the confession, the declaration of love. He starts crying anew, wondering how long it's been since he's heard those three sweet words. "Y-you still love me?"

"Of course I do," Mark admits, placing a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder.

The weeping Irishman takes the opportunity to burrow into the raven's chest, crying onto his shirt. Mark rest his cheek against the faded green hair, rubbing his back gently, not minding that tears trickling down his own cheeks.

"I want to be with you," Jack confesses. "I want to be with you so bad. And I don't care that we probably won't make it and I don't care about how much it's gonna hurt. I just want to be with you."

"I love you," Mark sighs, pressing a kiss into his hair, "and I want to be with you too."

Jack pulls himself from Mark's chest to catch the American's lips, allowing them to slide together for only a moment. Tears mixing as tongues gently brush together, Jack's fingers gently brush across Mark's shoulders, pausing when he feels something cold beneath his fingertips.

Foreheads resting together, Jack gently eases the necklace from beneath Mark's shirt, crying fresh tears when he sees the pendant with his name on it. "You kept it."

"Of course," Mark chuckles light, soft fingers pulling the pendant from Jack's shirt. "Now, come on," he smiles, offering his hand to the other man. "We're late for our panel."

Jack puts his hand in Mark's, lacing their fingers together. The American's hand is smooth, warm, fitting perfectly inside Jack's, making the Irishman regret not holding it more when he had the chance: reminding himself not to make the same mistake. Mark leads them back towards their stage entrance, the distinct cheer of an audience hidden behind the black curtain.

"Are you ready?" Mark asks the Irishman, wiping his own tears with his free hand.

"We're a mess," Jack reminds him, brushing a tear's trial from his love's cheek.

"A hot mess," he corrects, thumb brushing Jack's pale cheek. "But, I think our appearance will be the last thing on their minds," he assures, squeezing Jack's hand tight.

"Okay," Jack breathes. "One more kiss for good luck?"

Mark chuckles, but presses his lips to the Irishman's quickly. When they part, they both take a breathe, turning towards the curtain. The fear of the announcement, of the avalanche of questions, plants their feet to the floor, makes it nearly impossible to take the first step.

"We're in this together," Mark reminds him, attempt to ease their hammering hearts.

"Forever and ever," Jack agrees. "I love you, Mark."

Mark smiles, hoping his hand impossibly tighter. "I love you, Jack. I love you, so much."