Chapter Text
The emotions running through Mark’s head were anything but calm and anything but predictable. The crowd, a crowd he’d been fearing for days upon days, was merciful enough to cheer him on. There was no booing, and there were no rotting tomatoes chucked at his face. The internet was suddenly foreign to him, a new feeling as if it didn’t even exist ruminating in his head. As he followed Jett into the wings and away from the eyes of the audience, Mark could only stammer out a few words.
“I, uh, I…” he tried, removing his mask and tossing it to the ground.
“Broskii, holy shit!”
Jett wasted no time in scooping the stunned Mark into his arms. He twirled around ceremoniously, his laughter and joy more contagious than it had ever been. What was once a speechless Mark turned into a giggling fit as he clung on desperately to Jett’s shoulders. He was still in pure and utter disbelief, but the sensation of being high against Jett’s chest and beating heart easily overpowered this. No other live concert had ever made him feel such ways. This was better than the usual relief.
“You were amazing!” Jett exclaimed as he placed Mark back on his feet. “They loved you!”
Mark didn’t know what to say. He could only stare back at Jett, wide, ecstatic eyes visible under his dark visor. Based on the tone of his voice alone, Mark could picture the warm smile under the maw of his coyote mask.
“You did it!” Jett continued. “You did it, Mark!”
Jett wrapped Mark into another tight hug, one that Mark was powerless to do anything but sink into lovingly. An appreciation and adoration for the man before him bubbled deep within, threatening to pour out from its container and into the surrounding world. This was likely the reason he couldn’t seem to form any noises at all.
Jett pulled back, his hands still firmly planted on Mark’s shoulders. His gaze changed from wondrous to worried in an instant.
“You okay, broskii?” he asked.
Mark was not okay. He was not okay for many reasons. Mark had issues stemming from the deepest crevices of his mind and soul that would never be healed fully. He could never run from these problems, and neither could he ever hope to. Perhaps it was that fact that brought him to do what he did next. Without a care in the world for the things he felt he needed to hide, a crazy side of Mark took full control.
He gripped the collar of Jett’s racing suit firmly, leaving no time for Jett to question Mark’s actions. Helmet be damned, Mark pressed his lips against the mouth of the coyote. Jett’s little gasp of surprise did not phase Mark— not the gasp of surprise, not the jump of his body, and not the way Jett’s hands found Mark’s waist after a few seconds of wordless “kissing” between the two.
It was only when Mark heard the announcer on the speakers that he realized the severity of the situation.
“And that was Mark Berskii! Wow… What a–”
That was all Mark had heard. Once his eyes were open, a horrible, sinking sting ripped at his chest. He backed away from Jett with an instantaneous regret eating away at whatever shame he still had left within.
Just what the hell are you thinking?! Mark berated himself. What the hell was that for?!
Mark took notice of the blood rushing to his own face, that familiar heat making him look all the more a fool than he already was. Jett’s wide eyes were back. Mark knew he should say something. No matter how hard he tried to formulate some comprehensible string of words, though, his tries simply weren’t coming together. Instead, he only continued to internally question himself.
My God. You perform one damn song together and now you’re kissing him backstage? Get a grip! What is the matter with you?! You’ve really fucked it up this time.
“Broskii…” Jett extended a hand almost cautiously.
“U-uh… I… I…” stammered the pathetic little lovestruck music producer.
With no other choice, Mark turned and bolted towards the exit, flustered, horrified, and beyond embarrassed with himself. He must have really lost it. The showcase did him in. It was all over. There was one place he needed to be: in the confines of his dorm room where no one could see him crawl into a ball and shout profanities at himself.
“Broskii, wait–!”
Mark was convinced what he’d just heard wasn’t real. There was no time to focus on that— he just needed to get out of the area as soon as humanly possible. Disbelief couldn’t even begin to describe his reaction to what he’d done.
Exiting into a side hallway, Mark pushed past the door. Interrupting his swift escape were two familiar faces, one smiling and the other neutral. Mark attempted to brush past them, but the former’s energy was enough to keep the frazzled Mark trapped.
“Mark! That performance was amazing!” the first of the duo, Kai, chirped. “So unexpected, too! I can’t believe you brought Jett up there with you!”
Each sidestep was thwarted again and again.
“Professor Tozu’s super annoyed with you,” the second of the men, Damon added, a judgemental look on his face. “You realize that, right?”
“Oh my God, YEAH!” Kai shouted. “It was kind of hilarious, I’m not gonna lie. The Zu is PISSED! ”
Mark barely listened to what they told him, unwilling to care. With one half-strong step forward, he successfully made it past his opponents and was free to continue his rapid journey.
“Shit!” Kai jumped.
“The hell?!” Damon hissed.
Mark was too far and too desperate to hear them. It appeared the doors to the concert hall had been opened, and the audience was pouring out. Mark had to get out of there faster than any ashamed Ultimate had ever managed before. Thundering footsteps echoing through empty halls were the only thing he could hear as he grew farther and farther away from the commotion. He just needed to get to the student dormitory… then he could rest and take some time to think about his actions.
Mark’s quick feet took him all the way to his room, through the door, and deep into the darkness, waiting until he was fully inside to completely let out. He fell to the carpet and groaned not from the pain, but from the knowledge of the awful mistake he’d just made.
It really shouldn’t have ended this way, Mark thought. He should have done the performance and left everything at that. There was no reason to kiss Jett backstage, and now Jett had every reason to avoid Mark. Mark had been able to control himself after Jett took off his helmet for the first time, likely saving their relationship from the horrors he currently found himself in. Maybe it was the work of his managers, probably having placed some sort of spell on Mark that would ensure he made a fool of himself if he ever defied their orders. That had to be it. What other reason would Mark do something so stupid?
So had become Mark’s usual at that point: sitting on his floor in the dark and regretting the decisions he made. This time, he couldn’t ignore the pounding in his heart, nor could he push away the blush that had planted itself onto his face, much like the way he planted his lips onto Jett’s… almost.
There was no telling what would happen next. Mark could only wonder the possibilities. Jett would surely start avoiding him though. Mark was already too mortified to even think of an apology. All he could manage was groaning into his knees, chastising himself for doing the one thing his stupid brain wouldn’t stop dreaming about.
Maybe he could hide in his room for the rest of eternity. It was certainly a solution. That way, Mark could lock away his emotions again, and Jett wouldn’t have to deal with seeing his best friend who thought it was a great idea to kiss him following their big performance.
Just as he was about to fall deeper into his hole of shame and regret, his door swung open, and in marched a panting visitor.
“Broskii! What the heck was that about?!” the familiar voice laughed. “Haha… I knew you’d be in here.”
Mark’s red face surely worsened. He couldn’t bear to look at Jett as he sat in front of him. Jett tapped Mark’s knees.
“You’re always sittin’ here in the dark!” he said. “C’mon, don’t go all quiet on me now! What was that about?!”
“I…” Mark stammered. “I dunno.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Jett laughed again.
Jett held Mark’s hands playfully, something Mark was too foolish to fight. Mark, meanwhile, couldn’t believe how well Jett appeared to be taking the situation. His next words made Mark freeze.
“Can you do it again?”
Jett’s voice had grown small and sheepish in his request. Mark thought he may not have heard him correctly. Following Jett’s quiet words, Mark gained the courage to look at him. Abruptly, Jett moved his grip away from Mark’s hands and placed both on the edges of his helmet. In one flawless motion, the helmet was away, and Mark was face-to-face with a sight that softened every fiber of his being.
Jett stared at him with those wide eyes and a small, bashful smile. Mark couldn’t entirely tell in the darkness of his room, but he could almost see a hint of pink atop the unscarred areas of his skin. The display made Mark melt away into a puddle of wild emotions.
There was a light feeling in his chest. If this was what Jett wanted, if Jett wanted the same thing Mark did, then Mark would give it to him.
Gradually, Mark leaned in, closing his eyes as he braced for the touch of Jett’s lips against his own. It was his third chance at this— he couldn’t mess up.
Soft as the tickles from Jett’s nose was the kiss Mark left him. Jett’s lips were slightly dry, yet everything about the act was fuzzy and warm. Mark only allowed himself a few seconds before the embarrassment set in, causing him to nervously end the touch and open his eyes. Their faces were still close together, foreheads pressed against one another as both of them awaited even the slightest word from the man in front of them. Jett was the first to speak.
“Mark…” he whispered through a wide smile. “I love you.”
That phrase worked to both cease Mark’s every function and inspire him through a happiness he’d never had the luck of experiencing. Nobody had ever told him that in his life— at least not genuinely. Not in the way the sentence fell out of Jett’s lips, reaching Mark’s withered heart in mere moments. His fans could say they loved Mayhem’s music and his parents could say they loved their child. Never had anyone loved Mark.
In place of a verbal response, Mark jumped forward once more, faster and more confident than his previous kiss. Jett yelped in surprise— only for a second— and then matched Mark’s energy in the embrace. Heart beating as furiously as it was during the performance, Jett and Mark wrapped their arms around one another, neither willing to let go and neither willing to part from their little declarations of love.
Feverish in their movements, they kissed each other through smiles and through laughter. Mark felt the smooth surface of teeth, quickly corrected by Jett returning to proper formation. For months, Mark had wanted this so badly. What shocked him was the extent he desired Jett Dawson— he hadn’t quite expected this. Mark chose to ignore his surprise, however, choosing instead to flourish in the affection of the guy who wouldn’t stop bothering him.
They both probably needed to be outside the concert hall to answer questions and accept compliments (hopefully). They should be explaining themselves to Professor Tozu, who was apparently beyond pissed at their decision to perform together. There were so many things Mark Berskii should have been doing other than passionately kissing Jett Dawson on the floor of his dorm room.
Those things could all wait for the coming days, the coming weeks, and the coming months. The one thing Mark truly needed was to relax after such a stressful event. What better way to relax than to bask in some joy for once?
Joy was the warm embrace of a cherished friend. Joy was the successful result of his efforts. Joy was the reciprocation of love.