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The apartment is quiet.
Only the sound of the faucet running and dishes clinking can be heard. Oh, and occasionally Jackson’s very low humming to some random song he probably heard on the radio the other day.
On rare occasions like these, Mark’s voice is the first to break the silence in the little apartment.
“Jackson?”
A sweet smile curves Jackson’s pink lips when he looks over to his boyfriend.
“Yes, babe?”
They just had lunch. Nothing fancy; they were too lazy to cook and Jackson was craving comfort food, so Mark made ramen.
Naturally, Jackson enjoyed the meal; he never asked for much anyway. Mark wished he could say the same thing. His mind was too preoccupied with something else to enjoy the food.
Mark had just finished rinsing the bowls and utensils they used during lunch. Jackson is currently drying each one of them with a towel, before putting them away in their respective drawer and cabinet.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Oh, Mark needs to talk?” Jackson chuckles teasingly, while putting away a bowl. “That doesn't happen often. It must be important.”
With the lack of response from his boyfriend, Jackson turns to the other man, in concern. Mark is a quiet person but Jackson knows the oldest would have normally talked back whenever his boyfriend teased him over his quietness.
Mark is leaning on one of the counters beside him, an unreadable expression painting his handsome features. Quickly, Jackson puts away the last of the dishes and wipes his hands dry on the towel before walking up to his boyfriend. He stops right in front of him and gently grabs his hands in a loving manner.
His cheerful expression falls as he watches in disbelief Mark slowly pry his hands away from his.
“Mark?”
“Let's sit on the bed to talk,” Mark finally says, pushing his body from the counter.
He walks across the room and sits down on their queen size bed.
They don't exactly live in an apartment. It's more of a studio where everything is in the open. The only walls are for dividing the bathroom from the rest. The place is small and cozy, which gives it a homey vibe. However, it lacks of privacy.
Mark didn't used to mind.
Aware of the sudden change in atmosphere in his home, Jackson carefully makes his way to the bed and sits beside Mark; far enough for him to not feel overwhelmed, close enough for him to know that he's present.
“Everything okay, Mark?”
Mark exhales shakily.
This is it.
As he tries to gather his thoughts, Jackson opens his mouth again.
“I’m sorry I made that joke. I know you hate-”
“That's not what I want to talk about, Jackson,” snaps Mark, his voice barely rising above his usual tone. However, the sharpness is there and Mark feels his boyfriend tense up beside him so he quickly adds: “But thank you for apologizing.”
At a loss for words, Jackson nods mutely. He has never been confronted to this side of his boyfriend before.
A couple of seconds, which feels like minutes, hours even, passes in silence, with Jackson staring in concern at Mark while the latter stares down at the silver bracelet around his wrist.
Gently, his fingers brush against the cold chain his younger boyfriend had gifted him on their first year anniversary. It was such an expensive present for someone he had only started dating for a year. Mark had wanted to refuse the gift at first, but Jackson insisted that he would want nothing more than for Mark to accept the silver chain and to be with him the year after that and the year after that and the year after that and so on.
Jackson was in love, and so was Mark.
They have been together for almost four years now. They graduated college, moved in together, found stable jobs and came home to each other every night. Everything was perfect.
Until it wasn't anymore.
Mark, who has always been a man of few words, finds it hard to bring up the conversation about why it’s not perfect anymore, why he's not okay anymore. But he knows he has too. He owns that much to Jackson.
“How should I say this?” Mark finally asks himself in a quiet voice, dropping his head in his palms, elbows resting on his laps.
Despite having said it very softly, Jackson still manages to hear it in the quietness of their home.
“Say what?” Jackson asks gently.
“How should I say this so you won't get hurt?” Mark repeats, not much louder and not moving from his curled up position.
“What? Get hurt?” a worried expression flashes across Jackson’s face. “What's going on, Mark?”
“Pretty words and just the right amount of excuses should be enough, no?” Mark lets out a dry laugh. “Why doesn’t it feel right then?”
“Mark, what's wrong? You’re scaring me,” fear starts creeping in Jackson’s voice. “Is everything okay?”
Mark finally lifts up his head and meets Jackson’s big brown eyes. He can feel his own start to burn. But he stops himself when he feels tears forming. He cannot cry.
He has no right to.
“Let's break up, Jackson.”
The room becomes awfully silent but Mark can hear his world crumble, everything resonating in his ears. Like Jackson’s quiet gasp before he lets his mouth hangs open for a few seconds.
“What?” Jackson finally rasps out. He looks and sounds horrified. “No. I don't understand.”
Mark stays silent. He doesn’t understand either.
Why did it have to be this way?
“Did I say or do something wrong?” questions Jackson, in an insecure voice.
Marks shakes his head slowly, eyes cast back down. Jackson weakly pulls at the oldest's sleeve, wanting nothing more than for his boyfriend to look at him. They say the eyes are the window to the soul and Jackson is desperately trying to see what Mark is thinking right now.
“Mark, please look to me. Why would you say something like this?”
Mark barely hears the questions and starts rambling. “I was going to let you go and leave-”
“Why would you let me go?” Jackson asks desperately. “Mark, I thought we were happy.”
We were. But I am not anymore.
“Please, tell me what’s wrong. Please, Mark, talk to me. I’m begging you.”
Jackson’s voice gets quieter as he talks, his words more desperate. Mark can’t take it. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He wasn’t supposed to go there but-
“I’m in love with someone else.”
Silence falls upon them once again. They stay still for such a long time that Mark wonders if he really said what he said.
Is this it?
“Y- you're what?” Jackson’s question is voiced barely above a whisper.
“I’m in love with someone else, Jackson,” Mark repeats shakily. He doesn’t even sound sure of himself.
But this is the right thing to do. It has to be.
“I-” Jackson lets out a choked sound. “I don’t understand.”
I didn't want to tell you in case you get hurt. But there’s no going around this.
“I’m sorry, Jackson.”
You’re going to hurt either way. Just like I am hurting now.
Mark suddenly feels the need to leave, to run away. He’s suffocating in his home. And he knows that nothing can be fixed even if he stays there.
The oldest stands up shakily; his knees feels wobbly. He feels tired, lost and so, so, so hopeless.
Before he can move away, a hand grabs his hip to what he thinks is to stabilize him. But to Mark’s surprise, Jackson wraps his arms completely around the other’s waist and, while still seated, brings the older man closer to him. He shoves his face in Mark’s abdomen and with a hiccup, starts crying.
Mark cannot see his face but he knows. He knows the way Jackson’s eyes are currently dripping with salty tears. He will clench around anything, like a small child, seeking comfort from anything that would hold him, just like his hands are tightly clutching Mark’s waist at the moment. His sobs are not loud, but Mark knows that they are those that hurt the most.
Mark’s heart breaks even more than it was and, as on instincts, his shaky hands make its way into the brown locks on top of Jackson’s head, soothing his messy hair.
Despite everything, Mark still cares. He cares so much.
But it just wasn’t enough.
“Don't leave,” the youngest begs. “Don't leave me.”
Jackson's muffled voice sounds so unusually tiny. Mark feels the front of his shirt getting damp. Still, he can’t bring himself to move away.
“Please don't blame yourself for this,” Mark murmurs. “You always give your everything to me. You always say that my happiness is your happiness. You only looked at me. You-”
“Then, where did I go wrong?”
“It’s not your fault,” Mark whispers. “I'm just in love with someone else other than you.”
Jackson slowly looks up to him. His usual big bright eyes are watery, tears running down his face silently. He looks destroyed, crushed. The sad puppy look makes Mark feel like he just got his heart ripped out of his chest and thrown across the apartment.
“Mark...”
“At the end of our love, I didn’t want to tell you because you're a good person, Jackson.”
Mark’s hands gently rest against the younger boy’s cheeks. He drops a kiss at the top of his head, on his soft brown hair. He stays there for a long second before pulling away, making Jackson’s arms fall from his waist.
“But stop trying to hold onto the crumbling sandcastle.”
Mark finally lets go of Jackson's face. With one last look into the youngest’s broken eyes, Mark turns on his heels and exits the apartment.
It starts raining when Mark steps himself outside in the streets. As the rain falls upon his face, Mark finally lets himself cry like the sky is.
(Mark hates to play the bad guy but he didn’t know how else to let go of Jackson ever since he fell out of love.)