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They sat on the swings in their neighborhood park, just two young kids who held the world in the childlike glint of wonder in their eyes. It was always like that when you were young — there was always something that told you to grab all the bright things this Earth offered.
And they'd endlessly try to grab it, fueling it with their adolescence and all the hopes and dreams that came along with it. They'd endlessly widen the horizons they were given with fantasies — stories of pirate ships voyaging the seas or astronauts exploring the vastness of space. Tales of knights in shining armor and heroes in capes.
They may have been simply living in a drab, bland, blue neighborhood, but they transformed it with their minds. They painted new realms with the colors of imagination. They crafted new universes with the clay of creativity. They held the world in their hands, ready to face it head on, hearts brave and fueled with a flame.
The flame of youth.
"Man, this swing feels like some sort of launchpad," Mark remarked childishly, genuine happiness displayed on his face through a smile.
"Yeah? Feel like an airplane?" Jack replied in the same light, albeit a little teasing.
"No," the raven haired boy shook his head, "I feel more like a bird, soaring in the wind."
"Well, this feels a lot more like a rocky ship to me," the little Irishman said as he swung higher, holding onto the metal chains with dear life.
"A ship doesn't rock forward and back."
"Hey, it could! Who knows, me pirate ship could be going against tha fierce sea waves," Jack's Irish accent switched into a pirate's tone as he finished that statement, making Mark laugh.
"You're silly."
"And yer stupid, being my friend and all."
"I know," Mark said with absolute certainty that the words Jack had just uttered were true, "Might as well get one of those 'I'm with stoopid' shirts."
"Find one with 'I don't know who this bucko is' and we'll match!"
"Don't think that exists, Jacky."
"Then don't wear a stupid shirt like that, Marko."
Mark laughed at that remark as their swings continued soaring, sailing higher by the minute.
"Ye know what else this swing makes me think of?"
"What's that?" Mark asked, momentarily stopping his swing just to push his feet at the ground harder, making his seat fly higher.
"Spiderman."
"Hmm?" the boy inquired nonchalantly as his swing continued soaring, his attention focused more on not falling rather than in Jack's current topic of choice.
"Spiderman! Ye know, with his spider powers, the cool webs. This swing sure makes me feel like I'm shooting out a web vine of sorts, flying from building ta building. Pew pew," he made unfitting sound effects as he pretends to shoot out webs with his left hand for a second, before clinging back onto the swing's chains to keep himself from losing his seat.
Mark smiled and shook his head at that, "You're such a sucker for Spiderman."
"Come on! How could ye not be? I mean, have ye ever wondered what being Spiderman feels like?" Jack wondered aloud, suddenly filled with energy and enthusiasm.
"Not really."
"Fine, but don't deny that it would be really cool ta be a superhero! We'd hide away during the day and go undercover every time our light signal flashes into the night sky."
"Weeee—" the young boy cheered as his swing continued soaring high, before catching the glare the fellow on the other seat was sending him and saving his statement rather poorly, "...can do anything as heroes!"
Jack surely didn't buy it.
"Ye know what, nevermind," he sighed dejectedly, staring at his feet as he cut off his swing's speed, choosing to sway it slightly instead, not in the mood to be playing like Mark had anymore.
"Aw come on, Jack. I'm sorry, okay?" Mark said immediately after detecting the loss of giddy joy in the young Irishman's voice, knowing in himself that it was his fault, "I'll listen this time, I swear."
"Promise?"
"Yes, Jack."
And soon the wonder and happiness was back in the boy's Irish lilt, "I just... I wanna be a hero, Mark! Wouldn't that just be interesting?"
"Hmm, sure would. If we could be," Mark held doubt in his voice as he slowed his swing down with his feet, the contact with the ground breaking the momentum.
"It's not impossible! I could be Jackaboy and you'd be..." Jack paused, glancing towards his best friend as he awaited the response, making sure the boy knew he was meant to finish the sentence.
"Mark," the raven haired boy sighed, shaking his head at Jack's silly thoughts.
"You're clearly no fun, Fischbach. Why am I even friends with you?" Jack simply uttered, a frown evident on his face.
"Hey!" Mark rebutted, placing a frown on his features too, "I'll have you know I'm the best guy around."
"The best guy would willingly play along with me."
"The best guy would know the difference between fun ideas and dumb, impossible ones."
"The best guy would know this idea is fun."
"The best guy clearly disagrees with that."
"Maaark," Jack whined, obviously done with his best friend's attitude, "can you please just..."
The young Irishman trailed off, although didn't need to finish that sentence for Mark to understand, "Alright, alright. We'll talk about superheroes."
This made Jack smile widely, enthusiastic energy radiating off of him.
"Once again, Jackaboy saves the day from the evil scientist mastermind! Thank you, masked hero!" the Irish boy dramatically exclaimed, as if he were a newsreporter, before he went and rambled on, "Do ye imagine that, Mark? I mean, I sure could! I can even picture me in a red and blue suit! Can ye envision that? Can ye imagine all the happy families I've just rescued?"
"I'd rather not envision you in a red and blue suit," Mark pulled a face, "Also, before I forget to ask, why Jackaboy?"
"I dunno. First thing that popped in my head."
"Maybe you should think of a better name. Jackaboy sounds bad."
"Yeah, and what would ye be? Mark is a whole lot worse," Jack teased, referencing to his buddy's reply moments ago.
"I think you should be Jacksepticeye!" Mark replied with glee, choosing to ignore the other fellow's remark.
"Jacksepticeye? Why that?" Jack raised an eyebrow in question.
"It sounds rad. At least, compared to Jackaboy. Plus, it holds a little secret! I mean, no one would know why you call yourself Jacksepticeye."
"So getting yer eye cut is a good secret for a hero to have now?"
"No, but no one needs to know that secret to begin with," Mark replied cheekily before he began to let his swing soar high again.
"Hmm," Jack mutters, giving the name consideration, "I guess it is better than Jackaboy."
"Told you so."
"Well now you need a hero name, wise guy," the little Irishman said as he also started to swing, matching the intensity Mark currently had.
"I'd love to be called Markiplier," the brown eyed youngster instantly replied.
"Have ye been thinking about this before?" Jack asked suspiciously, curious as to why Mark immediately had an answer as if it were hidden under his sleeves, ready to be pulled out at any minute.
"No, but I had been thinking of a good username."
"Username? Seriously?" the blue eyed boy reacted, the smile on his face showing how silly he thought his best friend was.
"I just want to play videogames online, you loser," Mark immediately defended himself, wanting so bad to wipe the smug smile off the Irish boy's face, "Markiplier is basically Mark plus multiplier. You know, those—"
"I play games too, ye doof. Don't need to explain to me what a multiplier is."
"Right," Mark wanted to facepalm right there. He played games with Jack, for goodness sake. He really didn't need to explain.
"I would've thought ye just wanted ta be Handy Manny. Ye know, because pliers are a thing," Jack commented, still smirking, his tone filled with humor.
"Oh, ha ha. Funny, you septic poo," the raven haired boy rolled his eyes as he continued to swing high.
"Didn't think poo could be described as septic."
"Whatever," Mark sighed, before putting the conversation back on track, "But yeah, I'd be Markiplier."
"I can see you in red," Jack commented as he squints, staring into the distance as he imagines this fictional world, "and maybe I'd be in green, because septic stuff are usually green."
"Why am I red?" Mark smiled as he watched his friend daydream about their little fantasy land.
"I dunno. I just think it fits ye. Besides, it's my favorite color, and since ye seem to loathe the idea of me in a red suit, you get the red suit."
"That's something reasonable," Mark said with a laugh, shaking his head at Jack's response.
"At least ye ain't the green one here!" Jack bantered back, a small smile on his own face.
"Hey, I love green!" Mark reacted immediately to that in defense, "Although, you are the Irish one."
"I'm American now!"
Mark just shook his head, "Living in America doesn't take away the leprechaun in your heart."
"Touché."
"Now let's stop talking about superheroes, okay?"
"What? No! Not yet! I haven't even gotten to ask about powers," Jack replied immediately.
"Jack, please. You know we're just everyday people who do everyday things," Mark sighed, no longer wanting to talk about Jack's preferred subject.
"Ye know I don't wanna be an everyday person. I can't be one of them," Jack shook his head, puffing air out of his cheeks in dejection.
"Well, you are one of them. And so am I. And we live in a world where powers and magic aren't true."
"Anybody's got the power. They don't see it because they don't understand, just like you," the brunette huffed, eyebrows knit together in what seems like a little irritation.
For a moment, Mark questions the dedication Jack had for this conversation. It was as if he held a passion for superheroes, and the raven haired boy wanted to learn more about the reason to that.
"What don't I understand, Seán?" Mark cautiously replied, choosing to use Jack's real name to emphasize his sincerity.
"I just... I don't know. Maybe yer right. Sorry m'stupid," Jack shoved the conversation aside, choosing to keep his random thoughts inside this time.
"No, you're not stupid. It's actually really nice to see you so passionate about something," Mark complimented, hoping that would get the Irish boy to open up.
It didn't.
"Hmm," the blue eyed boy commented nonchalantly, staring off once more to the distance, although not because he was lost in his own reality.
"What is it about heroes that gets you so worked up, Jackaboy?" Mark pressed further, voice still holding a gentle tone as he called Jack by his original and silly superhero name.
"Do ye really wanna know? It sounds childish."
"We're children, it's fine," Mark reassured with an easy smile, causing Jack to puff air out of his cheeks the second time around — probably a nervous habit.
"I-I just really wanna matter and all. I mean, being a hero... yer important. Right now I'm just... plain ol' Seán," Jack said in a mere whisper, loud enough for Mark to catch, his cheeks a light tint of red.
Of course that was the answer. For a kid with a hundred dreams, it's easy to get caught within it all. It's easy to think your life is too dull, especially if you live in a drab, bland, blue neighborhood. Especially if you held the world in their hands.
Yet Mark never forgets to face everything head on with a brave heart.
Maybe Jack needed some sort of reminder.
"As regular as you are, you're important to a lot of people," Mark rebutted after giving his words some thought, "Besides, your life can still have adventures despite how normal it seems right now. We're young. We still have a long way to go."
"I just don't wanna grow up to be regular. I wanna be more."
"You are more, even right now."
"Thanks, I suppose," Jack smiled, "That... means a lot ta me."
"If it's any consolation, you can keep talking about superheroes," Mark smiled back.
There was a momentary pause, Jack's swing slowing down, before a mischievous smirk crept back onto his face as he stood up from his seat. Mark raised an eyebrow in question, knowing well that Jack had a plan.
"Ye up for an adventure, Markiplier?" the smirk didn't fade away.
As silly at it would have seemed to Mark, he just couldn't say no at that moment.
"Anytime, Jacksepticeye."
And so they were running, adrenaline pumping through their veins, smiles wide as the wind brushes through their hair and their outstretched arms. The houses in their streets faded from their heads, morphing into the tall skycrapers they had to rescue. Their everyday clothes changed into color coded suits, complete with masks, weapons, and capes.
They were running with hearts full of bravery and glee, spreading the love for adventure and a little light in every step they took. They were running until they started panting, the smiles on their faces forever wide, their imagination forever colorful.
Little did they know that they would always be running, breezing their way through life with the energy and the joy in their soul. Little did they know that they would be wearing invisible capes for the rest of their days, saving a ton of lives just by being themselves.
But for now, all that mattered was the present, in which they would endlessly run, fueled by the flame of their youth.