Chapter Text
Mark pulls his headphones off and goes still, pausing his game and listening to the quiet of the house around him. He thought he heard something rattling in the darkness of his house. It must have been pretty loud to make it past his soundproof walls and the thick padding of his headphones. For a second, he thinks that it might be Chica at the door. She does that sometimes, snuffling and pawing at the wood until he comes out. He gets out of his chair and listens again. Silence. If Chica was trying to get his attention, she must have tired out.
He’s about to sit back down when he hears his doorbell ring. He pauses. He wasn’t expecting anyone, was he? And he can’t remember having ordered anything either. No one should be at his door. He considers going to see who it is, but then thinks better of it. It’s just past 10:00. If someone’s at his door they probably want to murder him. Best to let them leave on their own.
He’s putting his headphones on when the doorbell rings again. And again. Whoever it is barely waits for the last sound to fall from it’s crescendo before they’re hitting the doorbell again. The word button-mashing comes to mind.
Mark considers ignoring it, but the sound is almost non-stop now. He sighs in annoyance, putting his headphones down and heading toward the front door. Whoever’s out there is about to get a piece of Mark’s mind.
He’s already geared himself up as he throws the door open, ready to give a stern talking to to this person not only about the late hour, but also basic door etiquette.
He’s already opened his mouth when the words get caught in his throat. Ethan is standing in front of him, one hand pressed close to his torso while the other rests on Mark’s doorbell.
“M-M-M-Mark…” Ethan says, taking what starts out as a step forward before he’s falling into Mark’s arms.
“Ethan?!” Mark exclaims, stumbling as he compensates for the boy’s extra weight. “What - why are you - what happened?”
Ethan totters on his feet, one hand twitching near Mark’s shoulder, fingers curling but not quite managing to grip Mark’s shirt. “C- Cold, Mar’,” Ethan stutters. “I was…” He trails off, pressing his forehead to Mark’s chest.
“Alright, okay, bud,” Mark soothes, leading Ethan over to the couch and guiding him to sit down. He’s a little worried. Ethan isn’t usually so… tactile. Maybe he’s drunk? “What are you doing here?”
The weather is awful. It’s a full blizzard outside, complete with howling wind, historically frigid temperatures, and thick, icy snow. It started last night, when frost began to creep over the city. The next day everything was covered in ice, and then it was snowing . In LA! It wasn’t supposed to snow here. It was supposed to be sunny and warm and maybe a little rainy, but not this. Supposedly, it’s some kind of polar vortex. At least, that’s what the news has been saying. It’s terrifying enough on it’s own, but knowing that Ethan tried to travel through that weather makes Mark’s stomach turn.
“You know it’s not safe,” Mark continues, standing in front of Ethan’s sitting form. Ethan doesn’t answer. Only now does Mark really get a good look at him.
Ethan’s shaking. His whole body is trembling almost violently. The shiver seems to come from his chest and radiate outward, so he seems to be convulsing for a moment before the tremors subside, only to rattle him again. His face is pale, although that’s nothing new, but it makes his bright red ears and nose almost comically stark. Snow is caught in his hair and dusted on his shoulders. That part’s kind of adorable.
Mark is about to make a comment on it when he catches sight of Ethan’s hands, which are an unhealthy, mottled shade of purplish blue. “Oh my god, Ethan, your hands!”
Ethan doesn’t respond, but he’s rocking gently now, though it’s almost unnoticeable beneath his aggressive shivering.
“C’mon, let’s warm your hands up a little, okay?” Mark cajoles gently. Ethan looks so small and young like this, hunched over and shaking. It makes Mark’s chest ache in a way he doesn’t have time to think about. He puts one hand on Ethan’s shoulder and takes the younger boy’s hand in his other, guiding Ethan to his feet. Ethan’s sways as he stands and Mark’s heart jumps into his throat. Ethan’s hands are ice cold and stiff and, for a moment, an image of the younger boy forever still and silent burns in Mark’s mind. Mark swallows around the lump in his throat and leads Ethan to the bathroom, turning the water as hot as it can go.
He glances at Ethan again as the water heats up. The boy’s gaze is unfocused. He’s leaning heavily on Mark, lips parted around a sigh. The same fear drips, icy cold, over Mark’s heart. Something’s clearly wrong, but Mark still can’t tell what it is. He doesn’t seem drunk. Drunk Ethan is usually a hyper ball of energy. But he doesn’t seem exactly… sad, either. He’ll worry more about that later; right now, his first priority is getting Ethan’s hands to look like they don’t belong on a dead body.
He awkwardly pushes Ethan’s sleeves up, careful to support the boy’s weight as he does so. The water is steaming and he pushes Ethan’s hands under the water, murmuring quietly. “Alright, bud, just gonna rinse your hands a little, okay?” Ethan jerks against him as the water hits his skin, but he quickly relaxes, eyes fluttering shut.
Mark rubs his hands over Ethan's, hoping to help get the circulation going again. Ethan’s head bumps Mark’s chin as the boy presses closer, squirming in Mark’s arms. “Mar’,” the younger boy mumbles. “Still col’.” The ends of his words keep trailing into nothingness, which really isn't making Mark feel any better.
“I know, Eth. I'm trying to warm you up now.”
“Noo…” Ethan whines, pressing back more firmly. “Cold er’ywhere!”
Indeed he is, Mark notes as a shiver passes through his own body. Then it hits him. He nearly smacks himself for being such an idiot. He barely realized that Ethan's clothes are wet. The snow must have melted from his body heat, and Ethan's only wearing a sweatshirt, not a winter coat, so the water just soaked through. No wonder he's so cold.
“You're clothes are all wet, blue boy,” Mark states and wow, that's not a name he usually uses. Ethan just seems so… small, right now. Mark doesn't really have time to contemplate this as Ethan sags against him. “How about we get you out of these clothes and you can put on some dry ones, okay? I think I have some stuff you can borrow.” Ethan nods, head lolling onto Mark’s shoulder. “Is it okay if I take off your sweatshirt? We'll get your pants later, but I want to get you dry as soon as possible.” Ethan nods again. “Alrighty, up we go,” Mark cajoles, pulling Ethan back a little and maneuvering the sweatshirt up over his head. Ethan isn’t exactly helpful, seeing as he can barely keep himself upright on his own, but Mark manages eventually. He opts to leave Ethan’s t-shirt on for the time being because it’s thin and will dry soon enough and besides, he’s still worried about Ethan’s hands.
He throws the sweatshirt in the shower - he’ll deal with that later - and once again puts Ethan’s hands under the stream of steaming water.
They stand like that for another minute or so before Ethan starts squirming, fighting Mark’s hold. “Ow, ow, ow…” Ethan exclaims suddenly, pulling away from the water.
Mark lets him, moving to turn the water temperature down a little bit. “Hey, hey, we can make it a little colder. Is it burning you?”
Ethan’s face screws up in discomfort as he vehemently shakes his head. “No no no, hurts - it hurts, Mark.”
Mark glances at Ethan’s hands, which are now a bright red. Still not exactly optimal, but at least it’s better than the frozen look of before. “Are you sure? It will warm you up faster if we keep them under the water.”
Ethan shakes his head again. “No, no more. Hurts.”
Mark hesitates, but decides that it will be alright if they stop now. “Okay, let’s just dry off your hands, alright?”
Ethan’s leaning against him again, and he grimaces as Mark rubs his hands, but he remains quiet.
“Let’s get you into some warm clothes, okay?” Mark coos, but Ethan shakes his head.
“Hurts, really hurts, Mar’,” Ethan whines. His eyes are glistening. Without warning, he crumples to his knees, curling around his hands.
“C’mon, Ethan, let’s at least get you to the couch first, okay, bud?” He levers Ethan to his feet, though the boy wobbles as he stands. “You can do it. I’ve got you.” Mark manages to drag Ethan over to the couch before the two collapse in a heap of limbs.
Ethan curls up in Mark’s lap, head tucked under the older man’s chin. It’s less pronounced now, but he’s still trembling. Mark can hear his teeth clicking against each other, like a rapid, secondary heartbeat. “Ow…” Ethan mumbles, tucking his arms close to his chest.
“C’mere,” Mark whispers gently, taking Ethan’s hands in his own. His skin is still cold to the touch, so Mark wraps his hands around Ethan’s in a bundle of warmth and presses their joined hands to his own chest.
They sit like that for a minute. Mark just listens to Ethan breathing, the occasional shudders in his exhales causing worry to spark in his chest. Then he hears a quiet whimper, and he looks down to see tears leaking from the corners of Ethan’s eyes.
“Oh, baby…” Mark murmurs, cradling Ethan against his chest. He caresses Ethan’s face, wiping the tears away, and Ethan presses into the touch with a tilt of his head. “What’s wrong?”
“Hurts,” Ethan sniffles, nuzzling a little closer.
“I know, sweetheart,” Mark coos. “Maybe we can get you into some warm clothes, hm? That should help.” Ethan doesn’t answer at first, but he eventually nods, the action causing his hair to tickle Mark’s neck. “Let’s get you upstairs then,” Mark says, wiggling out from under the younger boy to stand. He sticks out a hand to help pull Ethan to his feet, but instead Ethan extends both of his arms toward Mark, hands opening and closing in a grabbing gesture. “You want a hug?” Mark asks. Ethan shakes his head like a dog wagging its tail. “What do you want, bud?”
Ethan opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. Mark can see his throat move as he swallows, seemingly struggling to piece his thoughts together. “Carry?” he asks finally, eyes wide with hope.
“You want me to carry you?” Mark asks. Ethan nods excitedly, stretching his body towards Mark. Mark chuckles but leans down to scoop Ethan into his arms. The boy wraps his arms around Mark’s neck and his legs around Mark’s waist, pressing his cold face into Mark’s shoulder. He clings tight as Mark lumbers upstairs, the older man kicking the door to his room open. He leans over to place Ethan on the bed, but the boy whines loudly, grip tightening as he presses his face into the side of Mark’s neck.
Mark suppresses a shiver at the sensation of icy skin against his own, straightening back up and adjusting Ethan to rest on his hip. “C’mon, blue, let go. I need to get you some clothes,” Mark cajoles, swaying gently to rock the boy in his arms.
“No,” Ethan mumbles petulantly, fisting a hand in Mark’s shirt.
“Yes,” Mark insists, placing Ethan on the bed again. He untangles the boy’s limbs from around his body, prying his hands off with some effort. Ethan is still shivering, and as much as Mark wants to keep Ethan happy, it’s more important that he gets him warmed up. As he tries to step away Ethan reaches out and grabs hold of his shirt again, eyes shimmering in the dim light. He waits for the smaller boy to say something, but Ethan just holds on tight, staring up at Mark with those wide eyes. “C’mon, it’s okay,” Mark croons. “I’ll be right here. I’m just going to get some stuff from the closet. I’ll be right here.” He uncoils Ethan’s fingers again, and this time Ethan lets him, his hand falling limply to his side. The boy blinks slowly, and a tear slips down his cheek. His lower lip is trembling.
Mark feels a pang deep in his chest. “Don’t cry, Eth. It’s okay. I’ll be right back. I just need to get you some clothes, alright? You’ll feel so much better, I promise. Just let me get them. It’ll only take a second. Just a second, blue, okay?” He turns around before he can get too caught up in the disproportionately deep sadness spilling from Ethan’s eyes. He scampers over to his closet and nabs his warmest, fluffiest pajamas, leftovers from Ohio, before turning back to the bed.
Ethan has his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tight around them.
Mark’s breath catches. He approaches slowly, placing the clothes on the bed next to the younger boy. “C’mon, blue, it’s okay. I’m right here. There’s no need to cry.”
Ethan sniffles, his teary gaze drifting to Mark’s face. He suddenly launches himself into Mark’s arms, clinging to him tightly enough that Mark can feel his limbs shaking. “Don’t leave,” Ethan chokes, voice thick. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Mark pats Ethan’s back in what he hopes is a soothing way. “I know, I know…” he murmurs. “Let’s get you into some warm clothes, okay? You’ll feel alot better.”
“Don’t leave,” Ethan breathes on a shaky exhale.
“I won’t leave,” Mark assures him quietly. “C’mon, it’s okay,” he repeats as he gently disentangles Ethan’s arms from around his neck. With his hands around Ethan’s, Mark can feel his continued shivering, hear the faint chatter of his teeth. “You still need to change…” Mark mutters, more to himself than Ethan. “Let’s go, bathroom time,” Mark says, hefting Ethan to his feet. Ethan leans heavily against him, blinking slowly, but Mark manages to grab the clothes on the bed and a clean pair of boxers and maneuver them to the door. By the time they waddle into the hallway Ethan seems a little steadier. He still has one hand wrapped tightly in Mark’s shirt, but at least he’s carrying most of his own weight now.
The two stumble to the bathroom, where Mark takes a moment to study Ethan and assess the boy’s current capabilities. He still seems woozy, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to collapse as soon as Mark lets go of him, which is an improvement.
“Can you get changed on your own, Eth?” Mark asks tentatively, adjusting the bundle of clothes wedged under his arm while still keeping a loose grip on Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan frowns, his free hand grabbing Mark’s elbow. “Don’t leave,” he whispers urgently, taking a step closer.
Mark runs his thumb across Ethan’s shoulder, tracing the tapering line of his collar bone. “I won’t leave, okay? I just want to know if you need help or not.”
Ethan’s shoulders droop in what might be relief. He pats Mark’s elbow, a smile twitching on his lips. “Stay.” His mouth goes flat again as his grip tightens. “Stay?”
“Yeah,” Mark assures him. “I’m going to stay.” He pauses, peeling Ethan’s hands away and folding the clothes into his twitching fingers. “I’ll talk to you through the door, okay? You good?”
Ethan nods, that gentle smile back on his lips. He steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind himself.
Mark listens to the rustle of cloth and the soft pad of footsteps on tile.
Then, “Mar’?”
“Yeah, Ethan? You need help?”
There’s a hesitant silence before Ethan says, “no.” A beat passes. “Still there?” Ethan asks from behind the door.
“Still here,” Mark affirms, leaning against the wall. “You want me to talk to you?”
“Yeah,” Ethan murmurs, barely audible.
Mark exhales before starting on the first thing that comes to mind. “Have I ever told you how much I love space? It’s just so huge. Bigger than any of us, bigger than anything. I just… sometimes I realize how insignificant we all are. But not in a bad way! It’s just that, I don’t know, I think that sometimes we make things a much bigger deal than they really are, y’know? And thinking about the cosmic consequences, it just, kinda makes me feel like it’s going to be okay, y’know? Like nothing I do will matter that much in the long run, in the scope of the entire universe, so why not have a good time? Why not live the best life you can if you’re the only one you’re living it for? Does that make sense?” From behind the door, Ethan hums. “I’d love to go into space,” Mark continues. “I just… I love what I do, you know that, but sometimes… I mean, I’d give it all up just for a chance to… well, you know. It just, sometimes it kinda seems like that’s the only thing that matters, like that’s the only that could matter. A chance to see, to experience, something so much bigger than any of us, than all of us, really.” Mark sighs, staring at the hallway light like it might someday be the sun. “I’m rambling, I guess, but do you know what I mean?”
Ethan steps out of the bathroom, dirty clothes cradled in the crook of his arm. “I know what you mean,” he says, voice soft. He stares at Mark for a moment, a gentle compassion in his eyes, the ethereal glow of a lantern in the snow, and Mark feels it pull at him in ways he doesn’t understand. The spell is broken when Ethan speaks again, still soft as down. “Where should I put my clothes?”
“Oh. Just throw them in the shower,” Mark supplies quickly, levering himself off the wall to stand.
Ethan swivels, leaning precariously as he tosses his clothes haphazardly onto the floor of the shower. Mark makes a mental note to hang them up later, but as Ethan sways dangerously again like a newly uprooted tree, Mark decides he has more pressing concerns. Mark steps forward and puts a hand on Ethan’s waist to steady him. Ethan turns, still swaying, smiling serenely up at Mark with half-lidded eyes.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Ethan murmurs, resting his cheek on Mark’s shoulder. His breath puffs warm and reassuring against Mark’s neck, and goosebumps rise from the older man’s skin. “I…” Ethan doesn’t finish his sentence, eyes drifting shut as his full weight melts against Mark’s body.
“Let’s get you to bed, blue boy,” Mark whispers, jostling Ethan a little to wake him up. The boy stirs, blinking groggily at Mark through a haze of sleepiness.
“Mar’?”
“I know you’re sleepy, bud. Let’s just get you into bed. Then you can rest, alright?”
Ethan nods, blinking slowly, and lets Mark half-guide, half-carry him to the guest room. He crumples onto the bed in a heap of limbs, eyes already closing again as Mark pulls a thick comforter up to the boy’s chin.
“Sleep tight, blue,” Mark breathes, flicking the light off and sinking the room into a deep indigo.
From behind him he hears a muffled groan before Ethan speaks again. “Mar’?”
Mark pauses in the doorway, turning to look at his friend’s cocooned form. “Yeah?”
He hears snuffling as Ethan shifts, and when the boy turns to face him, Mark sees the shine of his eyes in the low light, already shining with unshed tears. “Will you stay?” Ethan asks, fragile and paper thin as the moonlight glittering in the window.
Mark pads back over to the bed, that now familiar ache flaring in his chest again. “You want me to stay with you?”
Ethan nods, unblinking gaze focused on Mark’s face. His hand emerges from the thick blankets, hangs in the air, trembling in an intangible breeze. His fingers twitch toward Mark, fluttering to the beat of Ethan’s exhales.
Why does Mark’s chest hurt so much?
The older man catches Ethan’s hand in his own, stills that shaking second heartbeat, and feels the ache inside of him crawl over his lungs. “Okay, okay. I'll stay.”
Ethan shifts backwards to make room for the other man, but he doesn't release him.
Still, Mark manages to clamber into the bed, wriggling his way under the covers to face the younger man in front of him.
Ethan’s grip on his hand tightens before disappearing altogether, replaced by Ethan’s body plastered against Mark’s. Ethan’s arms find their way around Mark’s torso and he presses himself closer to the older man, close enough that Mark can feel the younger boy’s pulse thrum against his own.
“Please don't leave…” Ethan whispers into his skin.
Mark feels a pinprick of cold as tears seep into his shirt. He rests a hand on Ethan’s back, curling around him, and presses a kiss to the boy’s hair as he speaks. “I won't. I'm right here, Eth, and I'm not going anywhere.” He hesitates for a moment, listening to the sigh of Ethan’s breathing, before adding, “I've got you. You're safe.”
Ethan goes limp in his arms, the tension draining from his body as his breathing evens out and deepens, filling the quiet of the house with a sleepy susurration.
“Go to sleep, blue. I've got you.”