Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mark loves to scare Ethan.

It’s an adrenaline rush like no other – getting Ethan to break his camera persona of oddly-childlike twenty-three-year-old is a temptation that Mark can never refuse. But the moments are few and far between, and there’s only so many times one can say I have a great video idea – you and me go out into a dark field and I scare the shit out of you for a few hours and document it for an international audience. The chances of a yes were growing slim by the second. He’d have to have a perfect excuse.

Anyway. On a completely unrelated note, it’s Mark’s birthday tomorrow and he’s asking Ethan to film a video with him in the woods at night. Totally, completely unrelated.

Ethan drives, because he always does, shaking his head. Every mile or so, he’ll grip the steering wheel tight or run a hand through his hair. Mark watches through his periphery, knowing full well that the explosion is coming. It only takes about thirty minutes of a forty-minute drive before he sighs, loud, and begins to speak his mind: “You guys never tell me what we’re doing. It’s always  hey, Eef, come make a video  and what do I do? I come over. Every single time, I come over and I say  here I am!  And you guys are like, ohhh, Ethan, you know what you should do? You should drink boiling hot oil for this video! And I’m all like, okay, guys! Anything for you! ”

Mark rolls his eyes, “We don’t make you drink hot oil.”

“It’s the principle,” Evan says from the backseat, the camera obscuring his face. 

“It’s my birthday,” Mark supplies, lulling his head to the side. Ethan is chewing on his lip, clearly stuck in an odd limbo between nervous and frustrated.

“Not yet,” the brunette mutters, tapping his hands against the wheel. “So, please tell me what we’re doing. Please. It is late, I am running off of four hours of sleep.”

“Oh! Right, I brought you – “ Mark leans down to reach under the seat. He hands Ethan the object – a lukewarm can of Red Bull. “Energy. ‘Cause you were talking about how tired you were.”

“Thanks.” His tone is somewhat soured – he clearly wants to say something along the lines of you couldn’t give me the energy drink before the forty-minute drive in the dark? But he just takes it, resting it against his leg and popping the tab. “Sorry, I’m grumpy.”

“You are a little grumpy, yeah.” Mark checks his phone, grimacing at the brightness. “Well. Uh. Buck up.”

Ethan hums around the opening of the can. He takes a long gulp before dropping it into the cup holder. He sighs, “I’ll get there. I just gotta let my… uh, comedy… bone… turn on.”

“C-comedy bone .” Mark turns toward the window, chucking into his hand, “Turn on your comedy bone faster .”

“You close?” Ethan mutters. Mark squeaks out a laugh, letting his head fall back against the headrest. That seems to help Ethan’s mood substantially.

When looking for a good location for his video idea (video idea is in many,  many  quotation marks, it’s barely comprehensible as a hypothetical concept), Mark may have typed scariest forest in California into the Google search bar. Surprisingly, there were good results. He didn’t tell Ethan about this. He didn’t tell Ethan about anything. At this point of time, it seems like a good idea.

Ethan pulls through the open, rusted gates of the forest. He takes a breath in, “This is the scariest forest in the world.”

“Scariest forest in California,” Mark offers.

Ethan scoffs. Then he considers that. He glances over to the passenger seat. “That’s funny.” Mark gives him nothing to work with. The smile falls. “Are you serious.” More silence. Ethan’s face crumbles. “Maark. C’mon, man, why are you doing this to me?”

“It’s my birthday,” he says as if that’s any consolation. Or as if that’s a good excuse.

They go through the motions. They park, unload the few pieces of equipment they need. They lav up. They make sure they both have signal on their phones. Ethan finishes his Red Bull. And only then, once both cameras are on, does Mark explain.

“You,” he begins, holding out a Go-Pro in the palm of his hand. Ethan tentatively accepts it, chuckling in that confused way. “Will take this Go-Pro.”

“Got it,” Ethan says. He holds it, pointing it at Mark with a semi-goofy smile on his face. Mark knows it’s about to disappear. “Got the Go-Pro. Are we gonna play h-hiiike and seed?”

Mark makes a face – he isn’t surprised by Ethan’s odd language anymore, but it’s fun to play it up. He’s trying to hide his glee. Ethan’s camera presence is going to fade in just a couple seconds. Like clockwork.

“Not hide and seek, no.” He turns to the trunk of the car and reaches inside, hiding the things he grabs in his palms. “Do you want to guess again?”

“… Are we…” Ethan squints, trying to scan for a correct answer, “Are we looking for Bigfoot?”

“No.” Mark shifts. He hides his hands behind his back. Just to maximize the tension.

Ethan blinks. “What do you have behind your back, Mark?”

“Nothin’. Keep guessin’.”

“Maaaark…” Ethan takes a step back. He drops the Go-Pro slightly, no longer pointing it at anything in particular. He’s concerned, now. “This… is getting… gross.”

“Gross?” Mark shakes his head, “Keep guessing.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“Alright, fine. You’re gonna take that Go-Pro and… this walkie talkie.” Mark reveals the walkies. Ethan’s face goes pale. “And you’re gonna walk into the woods.” A smile is implied in his tone.

“Wh – Mark,  no .”

“Mark, yes .”

“I … “ Ethan closes his mouth and looks up to the sky for a moment. He grips the Go-Pro in his hand like it might relieve the stress he’s feeling. “B-by myself?”

“Yes, by yourself.”

“But – I… don’t have a flashlight…?” Ethan seems to be searching for a good excuse.

“Your phone.” Mark holds the walkie toward Ethan.

“Oh. Right.” Ethan sighs and takes the device. “I – doesn’t Evan come with me?”

“No, you have the Go-Pro. Evan stays here. We’ll communicate through the walkie.” Mark produces his own from the trunk before closing it. He holds his up.

“Yeah, but…” Ethan covers his face with his hands (as best he can while holding two devices), “But what are we – why are we – what are we gonna communicate? What’s the purpose, here?”

“Just – y’know. Fun.” Mark looks toward the camera, “For fun.”

“Fine. Fine.” Ethan checks his watch. “Forty-five minutes until your birthday. I guess I’ll…” He gives one more defeated look toward Mark, shifting it toward the camera, then back to Mark again. “I guess I’ll just… walk into the woods now. Alone.” A pause. “Wait, are – am I just gonna be alone and lost in the woods when it turns – when it – when it’s your birthday?”

“Safe travels,” he says instead. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take, so he just avoids the question. Then, Mark’s eyes go wide and he presses the button on the side of the handheld radio, holding it to his mouth. “Safe travels,” he says again. His voice sounds crackly and frightening through the speaker. Ethan cringes at the noise.

“Okay…” Ethan takes a step back, fumbling with the Go-Pro. He grasps for his phone. “I’ll… alright, I’m going now…” He seems to be waiting for Mark to tell him he’s joking, to come back, to stay with them. But they don’t. They watch as he slowly walks into the darkness, away from the light emanating from Evan’s camera.

Ethan’s vocabulary dies as soon as he’s alone. Over twenty years of using big-boy words, and now he’s been limited to “I” and “fucking” and “hate” and “this.” On a loop. For about two minutes of footage. It’s just the faint rustle of leaves, creaking of old trees, the crunch of starch-stiff earth, and Ethan muttering I fucking hate this. He knows it’ll be edited down to about ten seconds, so he gives some variety. Different emotions, different inflections. He has all the time in the world, he figures.

The motivation to be a thrilling on-camera presence is non-existent, now. Despite knowing that he could be doing something here, he could be speaking an octave higher than usual and making up some sort of song about getting murdered in the woods. But he can’t, for some reason. He’s tired and confused and wishing he could have Mark here.

After three minutes alone, the radio crackles to life and Mark’s voice comes through – “You still alive? Over.”

Ethan grumbles. He pulls it from his waistband, tucks his phone in its place, and presses the button on the side. It chirps. “Yes. Over.”

“Just checking. Since you haven’t used the walkie to, uh, talkie. Thought you died. Over.”

“I’m mad at you.” He can’t help but sneak into that semi-childlike voice. At this point, he talks like that almost a third of the time he’s with Mark. Maybe that’s annoying. He’ll have to ask later. “Over.”

“Aw. Over.”

“What – what do you mean, aw, over?! You put me out here! I need an apology! Over!” Ethan throws his non-Go-Pro hand in the air, almost dropping the radio in the process. He waits for his apology. The walkie clicks, which gets his hopes up, but nothing comes. He can picture Mark, sitting on a rock or something, pressing the side button just to get a rise out of him. It’s working. “Maark.”

“Sorry, did you say something? Over.”

“I don’t wanna do the  over  thing anymore, I’m not feelin’ it.” He begins to walk again, hesitantly, almost immediately tripping over a log he hadn’t seen. “This is a bad idea, and you know it.”

“What are you implying? Over.”

“Not implying, I’m telling you that this video idea sucks. And you know that it does. And that’s why you’re making me go out here.” Okay, so maybe he’s a little more than grumpy. Maybe he’s irritated and tired and frustrated and lonely and anxious and everything all at once. “Editor, cut this part out.”

“No, editor, keep it in! Over!”

“Seriously. I will be silent for the rest of this goddamn shoot and none of the footage will be useable.”

“… Fine.”

Mark is leaning on the car, tapping his foot and staring at the walkie talkie. He can’t wait to watch the footage back. He can just hear some dumb song Ethan is coming up with on the spot about the scariest forest in California, or something. He hopes he’s doing that, anyway, because it’s awfully quiet on this end. And it’s boring. Maybe he should have gone with him.

Evan is sitting on a rock a few feet away, his elbows resting on his knees, holding the camera steady. He seems to be thinking about something. Mark doesn’t dwell on it.

“These woods are awfully quiet,” Mark attempts a grim tone toward the camera. Evan scoffs. “Anything could happen.”

He clicks the button on the side a few times. He forgets if it makes a sound on the other end, but he figures it’s good to try. He doesn’t want to be there for Ethan too much, as that would be a comfort. And he’s really trying to push it this time. For what reason? Because it’s his birthday.

A few minutes pass of straight silence. Mark is having a good time. Evan, not so much.

That thinking look, that thoughtful grimace, has evolved into distaste. Perhaps disdain. Mark doesn’t know the word he’s going for, but Evan’s doing it hard. 

“What?” He says, eventually. To Evan.

“I just…” Evan’s face goes deeper into that non-descript territory and he lets the camera drop slightly.

“Woah, woah!” Mark points, “Keep that on me, you crazy.”

“I haven’t been filming for the past, like, five minutes.”

“E- Evan! ” It comes out stuttered and not-quite-Mark. He has to take a moment to step out of Camera Mark’s shoes. It’s never particularly easy, especially so suddenly. “What the hell?”

“There’s nothing to film, Mark, but I just can’t help but think that… Ethan’s right.” Evan shrugs, setting the camera down beside his foot.

“Right, sure, but – what if – why aren’t you filming? What if he says something?” He holds up the walkie as if it might offer something. It does not. “What if he finally – “

“Mark. Jesus Christ.” Evan runs a hand through his hair. His energy seems to be deteriorating by the second. “What is this video?”

“It’s – scariest forest in California… uh, video.” He makes a face at himself. It is very stupid, yes. Evan’s face seems to react to the stupidity. “So.”

“Mark…”

The walkie crackles: “It’s really fucking dark out here.”

Mark says see, I told you with his eyes before holding the radio to his mouth. “You’re doing great. Just a few more minutes and then we’ll meet you halfway.”

There’s a pause. Then a barely-audible sigh through the receiver. “Okay. I just. Okay.”

Mark shakes his head, letting the radio fall, “See, you could have gotten that on camera.”

Evan stares. “What’s this about?”

A beat. “Huh?”

“Why are you sending him out in the dark like this?”

Mark opens his mouth to reply. But he finds himself speechless. There isn’t a way to word it. He didn’t even have to explain when he pitched the idea – he just said, “I have an idea, and Ethan’s gotta drive.” And they just trusted him. They thought it was a funny bit. It was.

But it isn’t a bit, right now, is it? The camera is off. Evan’s staring at him and he’s very serious.

“Um…” He says, quite eloquently.

Evan nods once, “Right. I thought so.”

“Thought so? Thought what? I don’t – know what you’re – “ Mark fumbles with the radio, trying to ignore Evan by going back to the business at hand. He presses the button, “Hey, Ethan, you there? Over?”

Evan clicks his tongue. “Mark, you can’t just – “

“Ethan, come in. Little Bird, it’s the Nest, come in. Over.”

“Mark.”

“Everything’s fine,” Mark says, so rushed that it can’t even masquerade as convincing. “So. Turn the camera back on, and we can keep going.” He turns to the side, cradling the walkie to his face like it’s a sacred object. It chirps as he presses the button, “Lil’ Birdie?”

“It’s because you like seeing him scared.”

“No.” Mark grimaces at the delivery. “Maybe. But it’s – this is a good video idea.”

“Every time you say something is a good video idea…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Everyone gets the point.

“It’s – just – yes, when he gets scared, I laugh. A lot. Because it’s c – funny. And the people like it too, so. I figured why not? So, we’re here, and we’re fine, and we’re…” The steam runs out before he can finish the sentence. That oh, shit feeling is deep in his bones, at this point. Ethan would know what to do. He’d do that high voice and push his shoulder and the weird moment would pass.

He presses the button a few more times. It clicks, and clicks, and blips. He wonders if it’s making noise on Ethan’s end. He wonders if Ethan’s getting good content that can salvage this whole thing.

“Mark?” Comes Ethan’s crackly voice through the receiver.

“Yeah. Hey. You alright?” Mark gestures to the camera on the ground. Evan sighs and picks it up.

There’s a moment. “Jesus Christ, Mark.”

“What?” He squints. “I’m just asking.”

“I don’t wanna do this dumb broken walkie talkie bit anymore.”

There’s a long pause. A burst of static from the radio before Mark’s voice breaks through, “… are you doing a bit?”

“This – what would be the bit, Mark? Riddle me that.”

“I don’t know.” Mark shakes his head, “So, what? What’s happening?”

“S-s-so – wh-what’s-what’s h-hap-peni-ng?” 

Ethan grimaces at the static. He remembers this. It isn’t funny, this time. That time in the basement was sort of funny, for a moment. It was a controlled environment. They were all upstairs. The radio feedback was controlled, it was fake, it was all fake. But now he’s in the woods and they didn’t negotiate another radio bit. So he’s getting sort of messed up, here.

“Mark.”

“W-hat?”

“Are you – are you doing this on purpose? Dude?” He kicks a stick that seems trip-able. “Because it isn’t funny, and I’m tired, and you said we’d get food after and I thought that would be okay but I’m starving right now, and I – “

Another shrill scream comes from the receiver. He jumps, staring down at it.

“Mark?”

“Doing what on purpose?” Mark looks over at Evan for an explanation. “What’s – is it doin’ the screechy thing again?”

“Y-es, yea-h, it’-s-s-s – “ 

Silence. Mark stares down at the object in his hand. It’s never done that before. He expects an explanation from Evan, but does not get one.

“Ma-a-r-k, it’s-s s-o-o d-a-r-k – I n-e-ed – h-ell-o?”

There’s that pit in his stomach. But he figures this is part of that bit Ethan was talking about. He’s doing a bit, right? He said something about a bit, so that’s all this is.

“Alright, man. Very funny. Good stuff. You can come back now.”

“I – “  There’s a loud screech, Mark nearly drops the walkie in response.

“Holy shit.”

“M-ar-k, a-re y-ou – “  Static. It echoes through the trees and he scrambles to turn it down.  “Ther-e?”

Reality settles in. It creeps across their arms and into their chests, that sort of oh shit revelation.

Mark is half a mile away. He’s with Evan. He says are you sure it isn’t working? into a handheld radio that is no longer working.

Ethan is half a mile away. He is clutching a Go-Pro in his right hand and a walkie talkie in his left. He takes a shaky breath in through his nose before trying again. He says Mark? into a handheld radio that is no longer working. It only makes a clicking noise in response.

Chapter Text

So, the phones don’t work. Of course they don’t. That was what the walkie talkies were for. But they seem to have quit on him, on the both of them, and now there’s silence. Just the rustle of trees and the creak of wood and Evan pacing by the car with his hands in his hair muttering what the fuck have we done, we lost Ethan, what the fuck have we done.

“Uh… alright,” Mark says. He can hear Ethan’s voice in his head, you know how to do this, you’re an engineer! He isn’t sure if that’s good or not. His head is swimming. Most of his decisions don’t have much thought behind them, but this one. Wow. What a goddamn blunder. “Okay, so. He can’t have gotten far.”

“He can. He could. Have. Gotten far. It’s been fifteen minutes.” Evan pauses briefly before resuming his pacing, beginning to circle the car. “He’s so lost, and he’s probably freaking out. And phones don’t work out here. And there are bears.”

“He’s not going to be eaten by a bear. It’s – it’s fine…” Mark doesn’t know where to start. But Evan’s freaking out, which means he has to be the sane one. But he doesn’t want to be the sane one. Being the sane one requires having a plan. He doesn’t have a plan. He doesn’t even know where to start. He checks his watch. “Right. Fifteen minutes. Okay. So. That’ll be… half a mile. Or something. Which – I don’t think I can yell that loud, I don’t think he could hear me.”

“Where did you get half a mile from?”

“Can you just – “ Mark holds a hand up. He tugs at his shirt, it suddenly feels too tight. He’s going to have to start crafting his apology. He’s going to have to start coming up with some explanation to why he wanted to do this. He has to come up with a way to say I like when you’re scared and you cling to my sleeve and you say my name in that little way but in a less creepy way. Is there a less creepy way?

Mark is suddenly full of anxiety. Well, two kinds of anxiety. Guilty-anxiety and dreading-anxiety. They’re hard to distinguish between, but the reasons for them are very different.

Guilt: God. I did this. I did this to him, because I thought it would be funny. And now he’s alone and tired and hungry and I can’t do anything about that. And he knows that I did this to him.

Dread: When I find him, he’s not going to be happy. He won’t be pleased to see me, he’s not going to cling to my sleeve, he’s going to be so fucking mad. And the worst part is that he deserves to be.

“I’m… I’ll go after him. If I know Ethan at all, he’s probably… standing still and trying to get the walkie to work.” Mark hooks the radio on his belt loop. “So, you stay here and, if we’re not back in an hour, you go get help.”

Evan blinks, “What? I’m not – I’m going with you.”

“If we all get lost, what’s that gonna help?” Mark’s talking out of his ass, right now. But he can just picture them finding Ethan together, and then he’d have two people judging him as he attempted to explain. And maybe profess his love. Whichever came first. [He probably shouldn’t start with the profession of love. Maybe he should wait and ask him out to dinner, or something. He doesn’t want Evan to be there when he attempts to do the love part, for sure.]

And maybe he wants to save Ethan on his own. Maybe he wants to be the sole savior. Whatever.

“So, what, I just sit here?”

“Yep,” Mark pats his pocket for his phone. He’ll need a flashlight. That’s important. Side note, he’s fucking terrified. “You can sit in the car. You have the keys. Go wild. I’ll be right back.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Evan mutters, but he slows his pacing and begins his journey to the passenger seat of the car. “Fine. Fine. I’m setting a timer for an hour.”

“Great.”

They part. It is not on necessarily good terms. They’re both clearly angry at each other and themselves for a reason they can’t pinpoint.

Evan slams the car door shut louder than he should. Mark has to contain his urge to punch a tree – he knows his limits – as he wanders off in the same direction that Ethan went when he suddenly disappeared into the darkness.

At least… he thinks Ethan went this way. He thought he identified those two skinnier trees as the ones Ethan walked between. It isn’t a certainty. But it’s too late to go back. (Not really. But Mark’s got this one path stuck in his head, now, and there’s no stopping it. Such is his philosophy.)

It’s an easy enough task, in theory. Find Ethan. That’s all he has to do, just find Ethan.

But where does he start? He can’t look up the square footage without service. He can’t pull some mathematic bullshit and try to estimate how much time it would take to search the entire forest. It wouldn’t take an hour, that’s for certain. Maybe a few days. He knows that thinking about that isn’t helpful, so he ignores that thought.

He’s very good at ignoring thoughts. Especially thoughts centered around Ethan. But that’s beside the point.

So, the walkie talkie isn’t working anymore. Ethan figured that out about three minutes ago. But he also hasn’t stopped speaking to the damn thing.

He isn’t sure if Mark can hear him, still. He isn’t sure if maybe they’re on their way, or maybe they aren’t, or maybe… maybe he’s dreaming, and he’ll wake up. Maybe, in real life, Mark is driving and he’s asleep in the passenger seat and he’ll wake up and he’ll be able to say hey, maybe we shouldn’t do this. Like a Final Destination situation. He might be able to prevent this terrible evening from happening.

Ethan’s phone is at seventy percent. There are about thirty minutes left until Mark’s birthday. They were going to get food after this and then go back to Mark’s to open presents and start the year off right. But he’s lost, now. So that probably hinders things.

“Alright,” he says. “I’m… I’m glad I took my medication, today. Very glad. Very… very glad. Uh.”

He shines his flashlight around in a circle. Just trees. No sign of anyone. No sign of anything, no landmarks. It’s all just fucking trees. But, to be fair, he isn’t sure what he was looking for in the first place.

The break he takes is an unsteady one, “Because…” He hums for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. He isn’t sure why he’s trying to seem so eloquent with his panic. It isn’t like Mark can hear him. “Because I’d probably be pretty useless right now, without that… uh, medicine. I’d probably… I should maybe stop walking.”

He does. He slows to a stop, letting the steady sweep of his flashlight cease. With every step, he’s getting further away from Mark. From Evan. From civilization. And that isn’t helpful.

There’s a giant tree trunk that sticks out among the other skinnier ones. Ethan figures that could be easily identifiable. He stumbles toward it, dropping to sit against it. He props the Go-Pro against a root, figuring that it can probably still see him, and takes a breath. And another. He stammers to the air before trying to speak into the radio again. “Hey. I don’t… I don’t think you can hear me, but if you can. If you can, I’m… there’s a huge tree, where I am. I don’t… I don’t know where that is, but there’s a huge tree here. And I’m sitting next to it, so. Look… for, uh, that.”

It’s good that there isn’t any more feedback coming from the walkie talkie. That would add insult to injury. He also supposes that the lack of noise is the opposite of a comfort, as well. No noise means it’s truly broken. No chance to revive its signal.

Shut up with your pessimism, Mark said to him once.

Now would be a good time to become an optimist.

Mark hadn’t considered how it felt from Ethan’s point of view until now. And he begins to walk faster.

Without the radio communication, he can’t hear Ethan. Duh. But where he can’t hear Ethan, he can’t hear his questions. He can’t hear him say, “I’m afraaaaid, Mark.” And, even if he could, he probably couldn’t do much to help. Usually, he’s within a few feet. Usually, he can open the basement door and hold his hand out for Ethan to grab. He can pull him away from whatever’s scaring him, he can offer a “you got this, man.” Anything.

But what is Ethan doing now? There isn’t really a camera on him, save for the Go-Pro. What is off-camera-scared Ethan like? How does Mark help?

Find him. That’s what he can do.

But how?

That’s all he can think. It isn’t a helpful thought. How to find one man in a forest in the dark, alone? How to begin? How fast to run? How much to yell? Should he yell? Probably, right?

“Ethan?!” He attempts. It’s much harder to scream a name than he had anticipated. He finds himself sort of embarrassed by it. He isn’t sure why. (He has an image of how this is going to go in his head. He wants to be cool, to be calm and collected, he wants to be Ethan’s rock whenever he spots him through the trees.) He tries again, louder, less cowardly – “Ethan!”

He doesn’t see the point of yelling now. It’s only been a few minutes. It’ll take a lot more time to get into earshot. Even further, assuming Ethan is still walking in the opposite direction. Shit. Hopefully he isn’t still walking. He’s smarter than that. He’s probably paralyzed. Fuck.

“I… ugh.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Alright. Okay. Everything’s fine.”

If he says it enough, it’ll be true.

Another five minutes passes.

Ethan’s back is starting to ache. The bark is rough and sharp – every time he shifts, he can feel every ridge through his thin shirt. If Mark were here, he’d ask for a hoodie. He’s been doing that a lot, lately. Asking for clothes. A thinly-veiled excuse.

He hears a twig snap somewhere in the distance. His hopes shoot up for a moment, sitting up and wrestling with his flashlight, but he hears some small critter scamper off. His shoulders go limp and he falls back, groaning as his shoulder blades scrape along the tree.

Ethan holds the radio to his mouth. He clears his throat, which is suddenly very dry. His brain begins to overreact, the adrenaline of an almost-rescue making his doubts run wild. “Hey… uh, I know that what I’m about to say is gonna sound like a thing that people say when they think they’re about to die… which isn’t gonna happen. I mean, worst-case scenario, I’ll wait ‘til sunrise and find my way back. Um. And you can’t hear me, so it doesn’t matter. But, if you could, I just… I don’t know, man. Sorry. Just – “

He’s had overwhelming moments, sure. Especially when he’s off his medication. It’s happened in front of Mark about a dozen times, which is embarrassing in itself. He gets distracted to a certain degree, gets frustrated at himself, can’t finish a simple task, cries, feels frustrated about crying, cries more. Not once has Mark made him feel awkward during those times. He’s always been very fortunate for Mark’s gentle hand on his back when his chest gets tight and his eyes can’t focus and his motivation to finish a mundane thing disappears.

But, this isn’t that. He’s not doing anything. There’s no one around. He took his meds. He’s just sitting and waiting to be found. So why does it feel so similar? Why is it an exact replica to that embarrassment he’s felt before? It’s panic-attack-adjacent, not quite there but close enough to be noticeable.

“I… I really hope you’re not upset that I did this to you on your birthday,” Ethan mumbles to the air.

Mark has forgotten than it’s his birthday soon.

He checks his phone. It hasn’t been too long since communication was severed. It’s felt like an eternity, though. He had expected tonight to be so easy, so fun, so simple, so… full of Ethan. Everything had gone his way until now – he should have knocked on wood.

He only has two trains of thought, at this point – find Ethan and Jesus Christ, I’m an idiot. There are no new thoughts. Only repeated regrets on a circular track with the occasional oh, fuck! as he almost trips over things in the dark.

There’s that lingering worry that defeat will settle in soon. He doesn’t want to give up, but at some point… well, at some point, motivation will die and fear will take over and he’ll be absolutely useless.

He remembers a time before tonight, however hard it is to do so. He remembers Ethan’s voice, muffled around a bite of bread, telling him to change the channel, I don’t care about the state of the world! I wanna watch Star Trek! He can see the man lounging on his couch, sitting cross-legged on his floor. Sleeping in the passenger seat on the way home, head tilted back against the headrest.

All of his memories of Ethan are cozy or ridiculous or amazing. He’s hoping and praying to whoever will listen that Ethan’s memories of him won’t take a turn for the worse because of tonight. Because of his selfish cravings for Ethan content he could have waited for.

He could have just waited.

“In all honesty, I’m very tired. But also, awake? At the same time?” Ethan props his phone flashlight against a structure of sticks he constructed a few seconds ago, illuminating the circle he’s drawing in the dirt with his shoe. “But, what if I fall asleep and you walk by? What if I sleep through your arrival, and then you’re gone, y’know? And, even worse… bears! I could get… uh, gotten by a bear. So. I’m tired, but awake and afraid.”

The circle becomes somewhat of an oval over time. He loses his words for a few seconds, trying to keep his spirits high even as his energy drops. He’s so exhausted and confused as to why this is happening to him today of all days. If it were a week earlier, a week later, it wouldn’t be that bad. But today, almost, is supposed to be Mark’s day. And what did he do? Get lost.

He picks at the nail polish on his thumb with his index finger. The polish is almost completely gone. He’s been meaning to repaint them, anyway. Nice, Ethan. Way to be an optimist. You’re getting better at that.

Sarcasm, of course. His head is full of doubt, of uncertainty, of pessimism with a capital P. He can’t even summon hope when he hears the various possible-human-approaching noises of an empty forest.

He presses the side of the radio again, holding it up with very little energy. “Uh… by the way, I hope you’re looking for me. I can’t know that for sure. I’d… I’d like to think you guys are looking for me. I don’t think you’d leave. That’s… I mean, you wouldn’t do that. I know that.”

There’s a pause. He considers that.

“I mean… I wouldn’t leave you, if the roles were switched. And I know you guys… I mean, we know each other well. So it’s not like you could just – and if you wanted me to back off, or something…” Ethan blinks, “Oh, shit, was this an elaborate plot to get me to back off? Oh, God. Wait, can you hear me? Mark? If you can hear me and you’ve been recording my breakdown this whole time, just… like, do the feedback thing again. Please. So I can stop fucking embarrassing myself.”

Silence. Another twig snaps. Ethan surges upward, wobbling to his feet. He looks around, slowly bending down to grab his flashlight. There’s nothing there. No Mark with a radio, no Evan with a camera. It’s a bittersweet emptiness to the space, there – if they were there, if this had all been a joke, he wouldn’t be happy. But he’d be better off with them than alone.

“Okay…” He takes a shaky breath, taking a moment to allow his heart to settle in his chest again. He presses the cold walkie against his hot forehead, centering himself. “Alright, so… okay. Not sure… uh, wow, not sure how I feel about this. Part of me wishes this was an elaborate ploy to get me to shut up for once. Ha. If that was your goal, seems like it didn’t work, eh?”

Ethan glances up. There’s a moment of peace – the sky is a deep blue against the black of the trees. It’s like a pond in the sky. He feels like an idiot for even thinking that. But it’s a comfort, somehow.

“Oh, but if I ask you if you’re trying to get me to leave you alone, you probably wouldn’t answer, right?” He sighs toward the stars, kicking a mound of dirt.

He pivots to point to the Go-Pro on the ground. It isn’t facing him perfectly, but it should be good enough to paint a picture. Why is he still trying to act like he’s camera ready, like this video is even going to see the light of day? It’s a coping mechanism, probably.

Ethan doesn’t want to sit down, anymore. He scared himself awake. He needs to pace, again. Pacing at least gave him something to do while he waited. For a rescue. Or death. “So… I don’t know. I feel like you… you wouldn’t do that, Mark. Right? Since… I mean, that wouldn’t be super realistic, I guess. You could just ask me, really. And I feel like you know that.”

Ethan didn’t even press the button that time.

This seems like a good opportunity to vent.

Mark is saving his screams.

Ninety one… ninety two… ninety three.

He counts to one hundred as he walks, and then tries to yell. One hundred. Yell. Rinse and repeat. He figures, in the next few minutes, he should be coming up to where they lost signal. Hopefully Ethan had stopped walking around then.

Ninety four… ninety five…

God, his legs hurt. He isn’t even sure why. He’s worked out harder than this, walked further in his own yard at once than this. Maybe it’s the tension in his entire body.

Ninety six… ninety seven…

Yeah, it’s definitely the tension. He’s starting to get a headache, too.

Ninety eight… ninety nine…

“Jesus Christ. Okay…” He takes a deep breath in. If he really puts some mustard on this one, maybe Ethan will hear. Please, God, Ethan… please hear me. “ETHAN?!”

He waits, holding his breath. Nothing but the rustle of trees. Alright.

One… two… three…

“And, I mean, sure. Uh. Theoretically, you could make me walk into the woods in the dark and then get back in the car and drive off and abandon me. Theoretically.” Ethan tosses the walkie on the ground, he’s not really pretending anymore. “But… I mean, I’ve got a modest following online. Modest. And someone would notice if I disappeared. I mean, I have a stream in the morning that I have to do. And I haven’t missed any, recently. I’ve been doing good.”

Thirty three… thirty four…

Mark coughs quietly. That last one really fried his vocal chords. He’ll recover before he gets to one hundred. He has to. There’s a deep feeling in his stomach that this is where Ethan is, somewhere in here. That weird rumbly feeling he gets when Ethan’s near. It isn’t weird. Don’t make it weird.

He’s trying to count to one hundred and write a heartfelt speech in his head at the same time. It isn’t working out very well.

Forty one… forty two…

Maybe he shouldn’t say anything. Ethan’s going to be upset, anyway. There will be other times to try and randomly wedge in his emotions. None of this is protocol, really. Ethan’s freaking out and all alone. Last thing he needs is…

Sixty… sixty one… sixty two…

Mark hears something behind him. He twirls around. There’s nothing there. Of course not.

Seventy six… seventy seven…

“I guess I’m just trying to convince myself that you’re still out here, somewhere. I don’t care if you haven’t come lookin’ yet. Just… please, please be here, still. Please be by the car where I left you.” Ethan glances over at the radio on the ground. “If this has all just been some elaborate prank on some weird kid who had a weird crush on you, I don’t think I’m gonna forgive you… Not quickly, at least… I mean, not this week.”

He finally takes a breath. He’s been talking to himself nonstop for a while, he could benefit from some silence.

Then he hears something. Maybe.

Ninety eight…

Mark takes a breath, so deep he has to stop walking for a moment. A breath down from his stomach.

It has to work, this time. 

Ninety nine…

“ETHAN?!”

Ethan stops breathing for a second. Oh, shit. Is he hearing things? Has he finally cracked?

“M-Mark?” He means to yell it, but it comes out more like a whisper. He clears his throat and tries again. “Uh – M-Mark?!”

And he begins to run.

Chapter Text

They’re still a ways off from each other, their voices still semi-distant, but they run anyway – playing some weird pseudo-game of Marco Polo.

Mark? comes Ethan’s voice from the dark. It’s closer, now. He’s moving, quite fast too. Maybe he shouldn’t be.

“U-uh, stay put!” Mark calls into the woods, his heartbeat loud in his chest and his ears. “Don’t move, I’ll come to you!”

A beat. Why? I can just – I can hear you! If we both move, we can find each other quicker!

“No, just – just stay, I’ll…” Mark doesn’t finish his sentence, knowing full well that Ethan probably couldn’t hear him this time, starting to sprint. “Just fuckin’ – can you clap, or something?”

Mark, I – I cannot stress enough that I can just walk to you at the same time –

“Just!” Mark says, trying to follow the sound of Ethan’s voice. It’s gone before he can trace it. “Clap! Make a noise! Echolocate!”

Pause. Silence. The trees creak. Then, distantly, he can hear the audio they use for the timer – the echoing tick-tock-tick . Mark rolls his eyes, clearly thinking clapping would make more sense and be much more efficient, but follows the ticking anyways. He’ll tell him how dumb of a decision that was, later.

He sees Ethan’s flashlight beam first. He can’t quite tell which direction it’s coming from for a moment, his brain creating some sort of optical illusion that’s completely derailing his rescue mission.

“Ethan?” He hears himself say, shining his flashlight in the same direction. It’s counterproductive. “Turn your flashlight off!”

… you turn your flashlight off!

“Ethan. Seriously. I can’t see you through your fuckin’ heaven’s light over there.” Mark shields his eyes with his hand, “Please.”

The light flickers off. Do I still just stand here? Because I –

“Yes. Just hold on. You’re so close, it’s alright!” Mark immediately trips over something as he begins to half-jog-half-walk. He’s wasted enough time, but he also doesn’t want to sprint and accidentally smack against a tree. That wouldn’t be great. Wouldn’t inspire much confidence.

As he runs, the short period of time he runs, before he can even see Ethan, he has a plan. His plan is this: jog over, slow to a stop a few feet away, point at him in that exaggerated way and… ideally, say something funny. Something like there you are! or hell of a present! or are you still hungry? That is the plan. It is, admittedly, a good plan. He can deal with the repercussions later.

And then, he catches a glimpse of Ethan’s face in the light beam. He squints at the brightness, only his head and arms visible with his black ensemble. Ethan lifts a hand to block the light, so similar to Mark’s actions a few moments earlier that it makes Mark’s heart skip a beat or two. He feels like an idiot, but there’s no time –

 – because he’s still running. He was supposed to stop a few feet ago. And now Ethan’s so close, and he’s making a face that means what’s going on and I’m safe all at the same time, and Mark’s reaching out his hands and he’s pulling Ethan toward him and Ethan’s arms are around him and all he can think is god, finally.

Ethan’s hands hover over his back for a moment, not sure what to do. Mark definitely isn’t sure what to do, here. This wasn’t the plan. It wasn’t the plan for Ethan’s head to be on his shoulder, cold cheek against Mark’s ear, hands slowly tangling into the fabric of his hoodie. Safe.

“Could you hear me? With the radio?” Ethan asks quietly, voice muffled against Mark’s shoulder. “At all?”

“No, man.” He wishes he could have. That would have been better. “Why? Did you… like, confess something? Or… something?” Very smooth, Mark. He won’t suspect a thing.

“Yeah, just my deepest insecurities.” Ethan laughs quietly, low and almost unfamiliar. Mark missed his laugh. The high-pitched ones, the uncontrollable ones. “I fuckin’ – I mean, the whole time I was talking… I was like, god, I hope Mark can’t hear me… but now, you’re here, so. And you’re not mad, so, I’d feel better about you knowing. If you had been listening or whatever. Since you’re not upset.”

Mark doesn’t know what that means. He wishes he could have heard, now. But he doesn’t want to say then, repeat all your deepest insecurities. He doesn’t let go of Ethan for a moment, though, which should definitely send some sort of message.

Mark has been hugging Ethan for about two minutes now.

Ethan isn’t sure what to make of this. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to remove his hands, if he’s supposed to initiate the de-hugging process, because he’s pretty sure Mark doesn’t want this. There hasn’t been much of a hugging history between them. It’s all good-natured high fives, perhaps a head-to-shoulder-lean once in a blue moon. So… what’s this?

What happened to the past year of don’t touch me Mark? It was always a bit, sure, but a bit based on the truth. Mark’s not a touchy person. Mark’s not a huggy person. So what the fuck is going on?

Not to say that Ethan isn’t full of glee to be hugging Mark for this period of time – sure, it’s sort of juvenile to be riled up over a hug, but it’s good to feel something – but it’s the implication of the thing. Is something about to happen? Is this a trap? Is this a goodbye? What’s happening?

Mark takes a deep breath, arms tightening around Ethan’s torso (which terrifies him to no end), before saying the most mind-boggling words Ethan’s ever heard in his life: “Look, I know you’re mad.”

“M-mad?” Ethan sputters. He isn’t sure if he should let go, now. This is a joke. Right? “What?”

“Mad. At me.” One of Mark’s hands is rubbing up and down Ethan’s spine. “For making you do this and for being ungrateful and for – “

“Mark?” Ethan’s voice is high-pitched, he can hear it in his voice and feel it in the air. He’s not confident in his words, not confident that he truly understands what Mark means. “I’m the one who got lost.”

There’s a silence. Ethan doesn’t feel comfortable in the hug anymore – well, he does. But insecurity is creeping up on him fast.

Mark takes a breath in. Ethan cuts him off before he can speak.

“I mean. You’re mad at me… right?”

“What?” Mark’s hand stops moving.

“No,” Mark says slowly, incredibly lost, “Why would I be mad at you?”

Ethan’s incredibly still, now. Should he let go? How long have they been standing like this? Is Mark crowding him? Probably. He’s still a little shocked that he initiated this in the first place. Once again, not part of the plan.

“Uh… ‘cause I got lost.” His high-pitched voice is coming back. Suddenly, Mark remembers that Ethan has a camera. How he forgot that piece of the puzzle is completely unknown. That was the purpose of them coming out here in the first place.

It’s the damn woods, Mark is willing to bet. Haunted. Wiping brain waves. Government conspiracy.

“I – “

Ethan isn’t done, “And for ruining the video. And for making everything about me when it’s your birthday. And – “

“Ethan.” Mark says quietly. He slowly releases the hug and takes a step back. He needs Ethan to understand this part. Really understand it. “The camera.”

Ethan blinks, opening and closing his hands at his sides. “S-sorry?”

Now is a better time than any, right? “The camera, Ethan.”

“But it’s – it’s got a light – “

“No, I meant. I meant shut it off.”

Ethan points to the camera on the ground, “It’s… it’s just over there, I don’t think it can hear, but I can still turn it off.”

“Would you?” Mark would rather this not be recorded. He isn’t one for recorded pieces of sentiment. And he figures he isn’t going to be very eloquent with this. “For just a minute. And then we can head back.”

The entire time that Ethan, his friend of several years, moves to turn the camera off, Mark is focusing on the worst case scenario. He is terrified that, in one fell swoop, he’s going to alienate Ethan and ruin all of this. Because friendship, while quite unclose to what he truly wants, is better than nothing. So what if he says this unplanned shit and scares Ethan off? Then what is he left with?

“Alright,” Ethan says. He groans as he stands, seemingly in good spirits despite having been recklessly pushed into the woods to get lost. Mark remembers Ethan telling him it isn’t so scary in the dark with him there. His chest aches. “What’s up? We headin’ back, or?”

“Sorry. Uh.” Think, Mark, Jesus. “One more thing, and then we can. And hopefully this’ll go smoothly so the walk back won’t be terribly awkward.”

Ethan settles back in front of Mark, leaving a good two feet of space between them, “That’s ominous.”

“Yeah, I know. I promise I’m not trying to be, it’s just… I gotta prepare for, uh, the post-conversation awkwardness, y’know.” He scrubs a hand over his face, “And there are probably a hundred better places to do this but we’re here and Evan’s back there waiting for us, so it’s a good conversation to have in private, y’know – “ he’s rambling, he knows this, but he can’t stop, “so, why not, right?”

Ethan presses his lips together, “It’s okay, I know what’s happening. You don’t need to pad it out to make it easy, just say it and we can go back.”

That isn’t quite the amount of enthusiasm Mark was looking for. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean…” Ethan shrugs, “You’re breaking up with me, right?”

Mark’s face goes blank. Ethan immediately realizes that he could have worded it better, but now it’s out there. “What?”

“No, I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Ethan says quickly, wincing at the way Mark seems to have shut down completely. “Sorry, I just meant – like, you’re breaking up the… like, you don’t wanna collaborate with me on videos anymore. Which is… I get it, totally. I know you’ve had to deal with me for a year almost nonstop and – that’s a lot, so. Lot of days.”

Mark is quite literally frozen in time. He hasn’t blinked in a minute. Ethan knows he should probably stop talking, but he can’t. His heartbeat is in his throat and he’s trying to push his expectations away and somehow convince himself and Mark that he’s not upset. He’s very upset. He’s tired and hungry and embarrassed that he got lost and even more embarrassed that he’d convinced himself over time that Mark might enjoy his company.

So he wants to stop talking. He really does. But he is panicking and he wants everything to end on good terms – but how! All those times he did that stupid voice and Mark looked at him and said you know how stupid you look right? God.

“Uh, and I knew you were doing that bit about me not being your Unus anymore and replacing me, but at some point it started to be sorta true – which, again! Is fine!” Ethan knows he’s starting to get a little shaky so he tucks his arms around himself, attempting to seem at least a little bit confident, “Seriously. Uh. And – and when I was walking around, I was kinda joking with myself that this was a ploy you put together to get me to shut up for once. But that’s understandable, because I talk all the time and I’m kinda doing it now. Anyway. I understand, and it doesn’t have to be weird, and I’m sorry I said you were breaking up with me because that sounded kind of pathetic. Ha.”

He takes a breath through his nose, shrugging his shoulders. He can barely see Mark through the dark. There’s silence for another moment, so he speaks again.

“I’m really grateful that you chose me in the first place and I hope we can still be friends, if that’s okay.” Silence. He tries again, “We don’t have to be. Just… putting that out there. Um… just. Please say something.”

Mark opens his mouth, “Where… when did you get that idea?”

Ethan’s throat is dry, “What idea?” He had said a bunch of ideas. It was really a gamble as to which one Mark was talking about.

“That I didn’t want you to be my Unus.”

Huh. “Uh.” 

Mark’s brain is swimming. Ethan seems genuinely speechless at the thought that Mark might want to continue spending time with him in any capacity. And he’s speechless himself because he can’t believe he didn’t see this before.

“All those times I said that shit, it was all a bit. I mean, a bad bit, but a bit nonetheless…” Mark shakes his head. He sounds like an idiot. Ethan’s face is unreadable. “And I’m not saying – I’m – in no way am I blaming you, because God knows I’ve had some bad bits in my day. So. But no, I’m not – I’m not breaking up with you. I’m doing quite the opposite.”

Ethan shrugs, “I know it was just a bit, it’s just… I’ve got an overactive head, and I spiral easy, and – wait, what does that mean?”

Fuck. Okay, it’s go time. It’s time to be very serious and comprehensible and – not Mark.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” He cracks his knuckles, which makes Ethan groan. “What does what mean?”

“I’m doing quite the opposite,” Ethan says in his Mark-voice, “What does that mean? We’re already working together, so. I guess… you just mean we’re still working together. Right?”

“Uh.” He nudges something with his foot, he isn’t sure what it is. It’s so dark, and they’re just shining their flashlights upward to light their faces. It looks pretty stupid. “No, not necessarily. I mean – ugh, I was trying to figure out what I was gonna say when I was walking here, but I couldn’t, so I look like a real fuck ass right now.”

“You don’t look like a fuck ass,” Ethan mutters, half-laughing. “It’s okay. I’m just very confused. And my stomach is digesting itself, I think.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. We do need to get food for you, don’t we?” Mark grimaces, “Uh, right. I’ll hurry this up. Uh. Jesus. Okay. The whole reason I did this stupid video idea was because I like seeing you scared.”

Ethan opens his mouth to reply but closes it again. He seems to not quite like that, but he waits for something else.

“I… God. This is stupid, and I should be too old for this. And I thought I was.” Mark takes a step forward, “Uh. Anyway, I did this because, when you’re scared, you do this thing where you grab my sleeve and you don’t say anything about it. You just do that, and it’s so good, and I wish you’d do that more because it’s… uh, it’s quite good.”

“You just want me to grab your arm more…?” Ethan asks. He either isn’t putting the pieces together or he genuinely thinks Mark is being disgusting.

“Y-y-yeah, but – I… maybe you could do the other stuff? That, uh? Might be in that realm?” Mark should just say it. Ethan’s not getting it. “I’m saying I want to… be… I want to be your Annus, is what I’m saying.”

It takes a moment. Through the dim light, Ethan’s face changes from confused to doubtful to… something else. Not quite blank, but very near it. “Wait… in like a… what way?”

“In a relationship way. Maybe.” Mark has his hand on his hip in that weird way. That Grinchy way. Ethan seems to not notice. “If that’s okay.”

“Is this…” He makes a face, “Are you serious?”

“Yes? Unless you don’t want to, then no.” Very smooth.

Ethan’s world is crashing down around his ears. But in a good way.

“Right… you made me turn the camera off… so it’s not a prank,” Ethan says it aloud, hoping for an answer. “But… so, do you not want them to know?”

“… is that a yes?” Mark holds a hand out as if he’s reaching for something. He isn’t sure what.

“It’s – you’re actually being serious?” Ethan covers his mouth with his hand, “Really? Really?”

Mark gets a wave of annoyance, though fond as ever, “Yes! Of course I’m serious. You think I’d joke about this? Right now?”

“Yes! You always do!” Ethan turns in a tiny circle, clearly wanting to do more of a gesture but also scared of the dark. “You’ve joked about fucking me constantly!”

“Not constantly!”

“Yes! Constantly!”

Mark thinks about that. He has, hasn’t he? Maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped to be. But that’s making this a bit easier, he supposes.

“Fuck. Okay. Okay. So, it’s a yes?”

Ethan can’t stop swaying. Probably to keep himself awake. “I’m trying to really wrap my head around this. I mean. Yes, please. Please? Please – “ his last word is cut off by a small laugh, like he can’t believe this is happening.

Hell, Mark can’t believe this is happening. Is he dreaming? Did he trip on a log back there and hit his head when he was looking around?

“Okay.” He isn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t anticipated that this would happen. He thought Ethan would laugh a bit and they’d maybe start heading back. “Uh.”

“Uh, right.” Ethan scoffs nervously and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s gonna be weird when we turn the cameras back on, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine.” Mark shakes his head, “We need to get going. We’re on a timer, here.”

Ethan’s eyes go wide, “Holy shit. Evan.”

“Evan’s fine. He’s with the car.” Mark clears his throat, mumbling, “And I may have told him that if I wasn’t back there with you in tow in an hour that he should, uh, phone the authorities.”

Ethan starts walking, sputtering, “M-Mark, what the fuck! How long ago was it that you told him to set the timer! And what if it’s already been an hour! And what if he’s gone when we get there! And!”

“Hey, hey. Calm down.” Mark waves a hand, starting a steady pace to catch up. “It’s alright. Evan’ll be too nervous to actually leave us out here. Slow down. Don’t bust your face open by tripping, or something.”

“You’d catch me, right?” Ethan turns to face him, shining his flashlight toward Mark, who winces and holds a hand up to block the beam. “Right?”

“Can’t catch you when you’re meters ahead of me, can I?” He quickens his pace only to meet Ethan, when he stops again. “I know we gotta keep moving, but are you absolutely sure? Because I keep thinkin’ about it, and as much as I’d really like us to… y’know… I know I caught you in a pretty vulnerable state, and I won’t hold you to anything, so – “

“Mark, please.” Ethan doesn’t seem to want to even entertain the idea, continuing to walk while he waves a hand, “It’s a goddamn dream come true. I’m excited to get out of these woods so I can see what us would look like, so if we could go ahead and do the get-out-of-the-scary-woods step, we can move on to the other stuff. Okay?”

Mark is tempted to throw his hands into the air – out of exasperation or excitation, he can’t tell. Yes, he’s more than happy to continue this new life and get out of the woods (both literally and figuratively) and get food and see what this will all look like. But he also expected more of an explosion. More of dramatics and fighting in the dark and having to explain his feelings. He had expected the how long have you felt that way question and then I can’t, Mark that would come from Ethan’s voice in the dark. And he had expected to say yeah, no, that’s alright! because he’s a goddamn gentleman. So there’s an inherent disappointment, but not in the places he’d expect. He loves a good challenge, too. That’s a fight for certain, a challenge to the unkempt joy that he feels.

Ethan keeps walking. He follows, hesitantly, continuing to try and coax a reaction, “I mean, you don’t have to say yes now if you don’t want. You can always think on it.”

“Do you want me to think on it?” Ethan looks over his shoulder, shining his flashlight back at Mark.

“I don’t know? If it would make you more sure?” Mark shrugs a shoulder, wincing at the light.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds a hand up, “Alright. I just wanna make sure.”

“Well, this is gonna make a long walk if you keep…” Ethan stops mid-sentence. Mark catches up to him, slowly, confused. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Mark looks ahead, searching the trees for some monster or shadow. “I can’t see anything.”

“No, no, wait. How long have we been walking?” Ethan suddenly seems disoriented, glancing around. His eyes are so wide that Mark gets genuinely concerned.

“I don’t know, like five minutes.”

Finally, finally, he feels Ethan’s fingers tangle into the fabric of his sleeve. “I think I can hear the car.”

Mark blinks, “It’s a Tesla. She runs quiet.”

“Yeah, but I can hear it. I know what your car sounds like,” Ethan trucks ahead, dragging Mark with him. “But that’s impossible. I could have sworn… I mean, we were just fifteen minutes away. And I couldn’t hear you yelling until you were, like, yards away.” He manages to walk confidently while still cowering into Mark’s side. They walk as a unit. “So, it’s just weird… that I can hear your car…”

“Honestly, it’s weird that you can hear the car at all. Are you okay? Are you sick?” Mark stumbles alongside Ethan’s lead.

Sure enough, they see the cabin of the car, lit up by the inside lights. They can see Evan, chin tucked into his shirt, on his phone. He doesn’t seem particularly nervous. Mark isn’t sure how he feels about that.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Mark whispers, clicking his flashlight off. “Seriously. We didn’t walk for that long.”

Ethan takes a semi-shaky breath, “It’s the fuckin’ woods, dude.”

“What?” Mark feels the hand on his arm squeeze tighter. He feels pretty great about his life choices that lead him to this point. “It’s – it’s not haunted, Ethan.”

“You don’t know…” Ethan whispers, walking forward. “I’m shaking out of my boots, man. How did we get here? I mean, really. This forest must be… like, it has to have some sort of time-warping powers. Right?”

“Maybe we were just nervous and didn’t know how fast time was going, that’s the most likely explanation.” Mark pats the hand on his arm, “Besides, I know what’ll get your mind off of that.”

“Off of the horror of the forest?” Ethan flutters his eyelashes, doubtful but trying to hide it.

“Yeah.” Mark stops, making Ethan trip backwards a bit. He points forward, “You know what that is?”

“Evan, waiting for us, probably gonna leave in a second…?”

“No,” he lets a moment pass, staring ahead. “An opportunity.”

Ethan takes a breath in, “I… do not know what that means.”

Mark shakes his head, placing his hand over Ethan’s and gently prying his grip away. “I’ll go around the back, you stand at the side. I’ll count to three and we’ll both slam our hands on the windows.”

Ethan thinks for a moment before he begins to smile in the dark. Mark mirrors the action. Ethan loves to scare Evan. 

Chapter Text

The night is normal.

Mark had called the restaurant ahead of time to make sure nothing in the place would kill Ethan, so they kicked back and ate way too much food for probably not enough money. They returned to Mark’s house, exchanged gifts, did all the normal birthday things. Evan brought a bottle of sparkling grape juice so they could all drink together. It was quite nice.

There were near-misses. Mark would put his hand on Ethan’s back, or Ethan’s hand would land on his leg for a moment as they moved around and gathered wrapping paper from the floor. Even after Evan and Bodhi left, it was normal. No talking was done about the forest, or the Unus to my Annus talk. But, to be fair, Mark didn’t think they needed to have one. Not then, at least. Maybe in the morning.

“Is it alright if I crash here?” Ethan asked, waving a hand to tell Spencer to go to bed. He had brought Spencer’s food and bed over when they met at the house earlier that night. It was a Chica, Spencer, and Henry sleepover night. “I’m pretty, uh… tired.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I figured that would be the case. Big day.” Mark shrugged a shoulder. “Good idea, keepin’ the dogs together here.”

“Thanks, thanks.” Ethan settled on the couch, laughing as Chica rested her head on the cushion beside him. He pet her head, but quickly removed it as he saw Mark point to her bed. He understandably gets frustrated when she doesn’t listen the first time around. He’s a dog-parent perfectionist. So is Ethan. They’re good for each other in that way. “Do you have breakfast stuff?”

“Breakfast stuff?” Mark made a face. “Are you still hungry?”

“No, no, I mean for the morning. Birthday breakfast.” He sent an adorably kind smile over the back of the couch. “Or I could order in. But I feel like, even if I schedule something to come to the house early, it always gets delayed and delayed and delayed until the food you get’s cold anyway. And cold eggs aren’t great.”

“Right.” A pause. Ethan was so terribly cute. Mark wasn’t sure what to do. “I’m sure I have something. Anyway. You’re taking the bed, so don’t get too comfortable there.”

“No,” he pushed himself to sit up, “You were complaining about your back last week. And I’m pretty sure it got all ache-y ‘cause you slept on the couch. So.”

“Hm.” Mark squints, “I don’t mind it.”

“I do. Besides, I fit very nicely on this couch, thank you very much.” Ethan stretches, settling. “And Spencer gets nervous out here anyway.”

Mark hums, “Well, alright. But if you’re all bitchy in the morning, I reserve the right to laugh in your face.”

Ethan smiles again, kind and soft and sleepy. “Roger that.”

The morning came, and… nothing.

Nothing changed. It was infuriating. Mark had anticipated a drastic change – sure, maybe that was a silly thought and he was an adult, but it was a thought nonetheless. Maybe a good morning hug, like the ones the TV couples give each other in those Folgers coffee commercials. He doesn’t know.

He rubs his eyes as he stumbles into the kitchen, somewhat upset with himself for sleeping in (it’s only eight, though, he figured he didn’t need to get up early to workout after the night they’d had). Ethan is wearing an apron from the pantry, sloppily tied and askew on his shoulders, swaying at the stove as he hums to himself. He wears a short-sleeve prototype Cloak (Mark remembers giving Ethan the shirt as somewhat of a buttering-up attempt that didn’t quite work) and some loose boxers. Probably Mark’s as well.

Mark must step on the creaky part of the floor because Ethan jumps, spinning around and pointing at him with the spatula like it’s a weapon. His stance falters as he sees Mark, who raises his eyebrows at the display of questionable protection instincts, and he clears his throat. “Oh, it’s just you.”

Mark scoffs, “Good morning to you too.”

“Breakfast!” Ethan holds up the pan. Mark grimaces, clearly not trusting him with the pan of sizzling bacon fat. “I’m making it!”

“I see that. Thank you.” He shakes his head, glancing around at the near-pristine countertops. He’s personally always so messy when he cooks, it’s refreshing to see Ethan have some restraint in that regard. “Did you ever figure out how to use the coffee machine, or do you need me to – “

“Yeah, no, I’m never touching that thing again,” Ethan gestures behind him with the spatula, “I was gonna wait for you to do that.”

“Got it. You need some?”

“Yes, please.” Ethan says, pushing the pan onto an unlit burner and transferring the strips onto the standby plate. “Oh, birthday! Happy!”

“Thank you very much.” Mark fumbles with the machine. He’s had the damn thing for years, he isn’t sure why he still struggles. He knows the basics, at least, which Ethan doesn’t. But it’s fair, he doesn’t live there. (Yet?)

He doesn’t truly see the state of Ethan until he goes to the fridge to grab the creamer.

He doesn’t see how tired Ethan seems until he’s that close. Ethan glances over at him and offers an exhausted yet completely genuine smile before he moves to assemble the plates. Mark pauses at the fridge, the door resting on his hip, considering a question he should ask. But he thinks on it, not wanting to catch Ethan off-guard while the man is standing so close to a sizzling pan, stirring sugar into the coffees (just a little over the normal amount for Ethan) and acting like nothing is amiss.

They settle at the dining room table, the warm light filtering in through the windows, Ethan settles across from Mark and it all feels very normal. Ethan hadn’t stayed over like this many times, and yet the normalcy stands. The act of eating breakfast under the pretense of a possible future (or current?) relationship… feels… normal.

But the issue stands of Ethan’s clear fatigue. He slumps over the table as he talks about something he saw on Twitter the other day that he meant to send, but forgot. It’s a conversation they have often, but it’s always something different. Today, Mark can’t even listen. He’s focused in on the bags under his eyes, the curve of his shoulders, the way his hands are shaking juuust enough to be noticeable. He always gets so shaky when he’s tired. He doesn’t ever eat enough, Mark knows that much.

“So,” Mark says after it’s clear that Ethan’s done talking. “How’d you sleep?”

“Eh,” Ethan says.

“Eh?”

“I didn’t really… uh, sleep.” He shrugs, “I was restless. But it happens, y’know! I think I was still a little shaken up from the night, so.”

Mark hums, “Why didn’t you come get me?”

Ethan glances up through his eyelashes. “What?”

“… uh? Why didn’t you come tell me, I would have hung out with you. Or something. I don’t know.” He holds his mug up to his mouth. “If you needed support.”

“I’m not a kid, is the thing.”

“Big boys need support sometimes.”

Ethan rolls his eyes, “I… hate you. After all I’ve done for you this morning, I’m treated this way?”

“I’m just saying.” Mark holds his mug for a while longer, not knowing what to do with his hands otherwise. He’s trying to come up with a way to bring up so many things at once while still being inconspicuous. “I just am saying you can talk to me about anything. Especially, uh… considering.”

“Considering?” Ethan tilts his head. The sun is warm on his face, all glowy and yellow. Mark feels his stomach go all butterfly-y. He feels stupid about it.

“Considering last night, and… stuff.” Very eloquent, Mark.

“Oh. Oh.” Ethan understands in an instant, almost as if the idea was hidden in his brain just out of view, waiting for Mark to bring it up. “Right. I thought you were, like… hm.”

“Did you think I was joking?” Mark smirks, though he feels incredibly nervous. It’s his coping mechanism, probably. “I think we went over it at the time. Y’know. The fact that I’m very much not.”

“Yeah, but…” The sentence dies. So does the smirk. There’s a moment of silence. Mark wonders what Ethan’s been thinking about all night. He knows this much: it probably wasn’t good.

“Well, I know telling you that you could have woken me up, that I wouldn’t have minded, doesn’t help a lot right now. Since that’s passed. But you should know,” Mark fights the urge to take Ethan’s hand, he figures that would be weird, “From now on, anyway. You can come get me. And talk about anything. Because I think, to… to, uh, have a good relationship… communication and… and comfort… is key.”

Mark is talking slowly. He wants to get this right. And he doesn’t want Ethan to run away. And he definitely wants to watch his words because he can’t be entirely sure that the conversation last night wasn’t part of his dream. His dream was also full of Ethan, for the record. A wonderful dream.

Ethan blinks, “Oh, so you were being serious.”

“Yes. Were you?” Mark feels a little sliver of dread. He keeps his face calm, though, somehow. He’s very good at that.

“Yeah. But. I just.” Ethan shrugs a shoulder. He places his fork down, leaning back in the chair for a moment. He breathes. Mark can’t breathe. He pretends to take a sip of coffee. The chair creaks as Ethan moves. He’s still wearing the apron. “I was thinking a lot last night, and I was… hm.”

“You can tell me.”

“I know, if you could give me a second,” Ethan says, trying to hide a smile but failing miserably. It makes Mark feel a little better, the smile. The playful rudeness, it’s a comfort. “I couldn’t sleep, obviously. And it’s not your fault. O-obviously. Not that you thought it was. Uhhhhhhh. I’m really fuckin’ this, right now.”

“You’re doing no such thing. You’re fine.” His voice rumbles in his chest. It always gets so rumbly when he’s trying to be comforting. Mainly when he’s trying to be comforting to Ethan. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right.” The word comes as an exhale. “Um. I was just catastrophizing and saying, y’know, that I probably read too much into it and you didn’t mean it like that – “

“I did mean it like that – “

“ – and that, like…” Ethan grabs a small piece of bacon and tucks it into his mouth, “Well, I guess I just thought it was a we’re lost and going to die so I might as well attempt to make us both feel better about everything thing.”

“And you agreed because you thought it was that, or?”

“Well, no. No.” Ethan holds a hand out, stares at his own hand as if he’s considering his actions, and then slowly places it on top of Mark’s. “Is this okay?”

Mark nods, gleeful as hell but trying to conceal.

“I agreed because I do want… uh… stuff… with you. But then you went to bed by yourself and I was on the couch and I was thinkin’ about the circumstances and I was like, I guess…” Ethan’s thumb draws lines on the back of Mark’s hand. “I didn’t want to put in all the energy to, like, convince myself that you did wanna be with me and then… the next morning, I’d find out that it was just a fear response.”

“You think a love confession is a fear response?”

Ethan raises his eyebrows. “You love me?”

“What?”

“What?” Ethan leans back in his chair, “You said love confession. You didn’t say you loved me last night.”

“I didn’t mean to just now.” Mark goes cold as Ethan’s hand slips away. “So, for whatever that’s worth.”

Spencer pads into the room, stopping in the doorway to yawn, then continuing his trek to reach Ethan’s side. Eye contact is broken only then so that Ethan can pet the tired dog.

“Hi, Schpence,” Ethan says, voice scratchy as he tries to reach the high-pitched baby-voice he usually uses around the dogs. “Need to go out, bud?”

Spencer doesn’t say anything. Chica’s paws click on the floor in the other room. Mark and Ethan stand at the same time to bring them outside, chairs squeaking across the floor. The conversation is wordlessly pinned to be returned to later. The dogs come first. Such is the norm.

The dogs walk calmly to the door but break into a sprint once the door is opened. Ethan snorts as Spencer skids across the dewy grass, Chica elegantly trotting behind him. Mark leans against the sliding door as Ethan wraps his arms around himself. The morning is cool and blue-tinted, the smell of chlorine is faint. It is the perfect time for Mark to say –

“I do love you, by the way.” He clears his throat afterwards, as if trying to cover it up. He doesn’t want to cover it up. But it’s just to make things less awkward, he supposes. “It’s probably too fast. It’s definitely too fast.”

“I don’t think it’s too fast.” Ethan’s teeth chatter halfway through the statement and he laughs quietly at himself. “I wanna say it back but it’s too gross.”

“Gross.”

“Gross, like… weird. Y’know.” He wraps his arms around himself. “Like in bad movies when they say it for the first time. Gross.”

“I… don’t know if I should be offended, or – “

“No,” Ethan shakes his head. He reaches out to place his hand on Mark’s arm. It’s a hesitant touch for only a moment, growing more confident by the second. It is the touch he gives Mark, fleeting but meaningful, because he knows Mark doesn’t like touch but knows that his own love language is touch. But Mark does like touch, when it’s Ethan. But he can never find the words. “It’s bad toward me, not you. But I do. Love you. Too. Fuck.”

Mark tilts his head back and gives one of those good laughs. Those belly laughs, sustained and loud and kind. The ones that are real and unhideable. The ones that make Ethan’s tummy feel warm. (He’s upset that he calls it his tummy, still. But that’s for another day.)

“Good, good.” Mark says the words in that faux-condescending way. “That’s great to hear. You’re not wearing any pants.”

“I forgot. Got distracted. Didn’t bring my meds with me.” Ethan lets his arm fall to his side, trying to stick his hand into a pocket of a pair of pants that he isn’t wearing. “Started one thing, started another thing… uh, meant to put pants on, meant to grab some orange juice. Meant to do a lot of things. Distracted.”

Mark hums, smiling. “I figured. It’s cold out here, you didn’t think to say anything.”

“I didn’t think it’d take them this long to go potty, Mark!” He bounces up and down slightly, “I need to eat more. Caffeine’s making things worse. I’m cold, too. And I - ”

“You go ahead, I can wrangle ‘em back in.”

Ethan shakes his head. Ever the stubborn man. “I wanna stay out here.”

“Grab some pants, come back out, then.”

“Maaark.”

He sighs, “Either stay or go. I do not mind. But I’m not completely awake and I don’t want to get grouchy at you on such a lovely day.”

Ethan nods, resigned, and turns to go inside.

There is not a playbook for this. Ethan knows that very well.

There is not a playbook for jumping headfirst into a relationship with someone you’ve admired for years. There’s no step-by-step guide to jumping from keeping his distance or following the don’t touch me orders from Mark (even when they were just a bit)… to the opposite? To getting rid of distance and doing whatever relationships require? Is there a way to do that with grace? Does he want to bother with grace when he knows he could just jump? Who’s left to impress?

Mark drives Ethan over to his and Katheryn’s place the next day. It is a mostly normal car ride. They arrive, leaving Spencer on dog-mode of course, and explain. As simply as is possible. The approximate gist is “I’m not moving entirely yet, I’m just spending the night for a week or so to figure out… things.” And Katheryn just nods, smiling, and shrugs. Because it was expected, likely. This was all probably meant to happen in retrospect.

Mark sits on Ethan’s bed as he packs. He hasn’t been in here in a good moment. It’s interesting to look at things through the relationship lens. Ethan sleeps on the right side of the bed, he has a rack of vinyls in the left corner but no machine to play them.

“So,” Mark says. Ethan looks over his shoulder, tossing a couple of pairs of socks into the case at his feet. “Uh, do you have… a schedule…?”

“I’m gonna need some more clarification, there.” Ethan didn’t brush his hair this morning. He looks radiant.

“Like… what time do you wake up? And… uh, you’ve got streams, right? This week?” Mark makes a face. He isn’t sure where his brain went.

Ethan closes the closet door with his foot, knocking his suitcase to the side in the process. “I try to wake up at eight. I’m pretty unsuccessful at that though. And, uh, streams… I’ve been slacking on my schedule there. I don’t think anyone would mind.”

“You could always use my set up,” Mark offers. “Can’t promise that your chat will be squeaky clean, though.”

“I’ve already banned your name from chat, it’s all good,” he mutters through a smile. “I’ll probably have to get used to it, though, as time goes on. Since… uh.”

“Right, right.” A silence. The overhead fan clicks as it turns. “We can talk logistics… public… wise. If you want that.”

“If we have to do one of those sit-down videos where the title’s, like, The Truth or whatever, I’ll jump in front of a car,” Ethan laughs through the last part of the sentence, a lazy laugh.

“I’d never do that to you.”

“Thanks,” Ethan bends down to zip the case, pulling it up to stand. “I do want that, though. Publicity, at some point. That’s the goal.”

“Yeah?” Mark raises an eyebrow. He wants that too.

“I know lots of internet… uhhhhh, I hesitate to say personalities, that seems assumptive – “

“You have a personality,” Mark says, offended on his behalf, “I love your personality.”

“ – sure, sure, suuuuure, but you know. It’s just obnoxious. Anyway.” Ethan tosses the case onto the bed beside Mark, leaving just enough space to slide in between. “I know internet people usually wax poetic about wanting to keep their relationships private – and, y’know, all power to them because I know everything can be terrifying with an audience. But…” Ethan rests his head on Mark’s shoulder. “I really am excited for people to know.”

Mark lets out a long exhale. That feels good to hear. “Me too. Damn.”

“Damn,” Ethan agrees. He sighs. “Would you wanna stream with me?”

“Huh?” He turns, slightly. Ethan doesn’t lift his head, all Mark sees is his hair, but it’s nice. “When?”

“I don’t know. When I do, sometime this week.” Ethan turns his head just barely. He’s looking for a response, for a yes-or-no answer in Mark’s eyes. He doesn’t seem to find one. “I have a good idea. I think it would be funny.”

“Do tell.”

“So, here’s what I’m thinkin’.” Ethan rolls off the bed to come into a semi-professional pitch stance. “I unblock your name from chat. People start bein’ like ohhh, woahhhh, Eef’s in Mark’s house! and ohhhhh, Eef, go get Mark! And then, where I’d usually be like guys no, I’ll be like guys, yes. And then you come in.”

“Oh, I come in?” Mark fakes newfound interest. Narcissist Mark is his favorite Mark to play.

“Yeah. And you come in, and I say, here’s Mark! And then… uhhhhh, chat goes wild, of course.” Ethan shrugs, “People’ll ask why I’m there, and then we’ll tell them.”

“I… have a couple notes.”

Ethan’s shoulders go slack. “Can you say it’s a good idea first before you tank my dreams?”

“Yes, of course. It’s a wonderful idea. Very impactful beginning… ran out of steam there, at the end.” Mark watches Ethan stumble over to the bed. “I love the build up, I’d like to hear more about your tell-em plans.”

“I don’t really have any. This is all very new, I guess.” It’s true. The pause that occurs really proves it. “It’s barely been two days. I know a lot about you but not in this way. So it’ll be a few days, for certain. Before I’ll know what to do.”

“Probably kiss, though, right?”

Ethan chokes on the air. “Jesus.”

“I mean…” Mark clears his throat. “Am I wrong?”

“No, but… when I said I wanna, like, show you off and stuff, I didn’t mean that I wanted… God, this is about to sound very juvenile.”

“Go wild.”

“Uh,” Ethan rubs his eyes, clearly nervous, “I didn’t mean that I wanted our first kiss to be public domain, y’know.”

“It won’t be.”

“Promise?” Ethan strikes a pose on the bed. He’s very nervous. He’s scrambling to do all his humor coping mechanisms. Mark reaches out a hand and Ethan takes it. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re fine. You’re great.” Mark shakes his head, “I don’t know why I’m so… fucking lost, in all this. Do you feel like this”

“Yes. Yes. God.” He falls back onto the bed. “There’s so much at stake but there’s no reason for anything to be at stake.”

“Stakes, yeah. Most stake I’ve put into a relationship that’s only been goin’ for two days,” he shakes his head. “Anyway, long winding road, let’s kiss.”

“We’re not – “ Ethan sputters out a laugh, holding his hands over his face. “Mark, we’re not kissing in here. No way.”

“What! Why not?” Mark makes a face, “What’s wrong with this? We’re on a bed. And… stuff.”

“Yeah, but it’s my bedroom. And it’s… it’s sad and lonely in here.” Ethan places his hand over Mark’s mouth as he leans close, “Don’t look at me like that. This place has bad vibes. Plus, I’m all packed and ready to go.”

“Fine,” Mark says, peeling, Ethan’s hand from his face. “Let’s go, then. If this bed is unsatisfactory, we’ll find another one that meets your expectations.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ethan mutters through a smile, watching Mark sprint out of the room. He fumbles with his case, attempting to follow close behind.

Mark steals a kiss before he pulls out of the parking lot. Ethan freezes for a solid minute afterward, thawing just as they reach a stop sign in the road, where he steals another.