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Ethan groans, and wipes at his eyes blearily.
The harsh sunlight coming in through his window is shining directly into his eyes, and when he rolls over to escape it he runs smack-dab into the pillows he had used to emulate a person the night before.
They’re not very person-like anymore, though, and he feels no remorse in pushing them aside to grab for his alarm clock, tilting it towards him with a clumsy hand. The numbers blink slowly, warping in the blurry haze sleep always leaves him with, and it takes a second before he fully registers that it’s seven in the morning.
Fuck, that’s early.
Groaning again, he pushes himself onto an elbow, hissing at the sharp pain in his shoulder as it pops and stretches out for the first time in twelve hours. Such is life, though - the last dozen times he had sworn off sleeping on his side he had ended up curling up with a hot pack and pillow, and he knew that that night would probably end the same way.
Stretching slowly, he sits up completely, humming into the silence of the morning. Even though he desperately wants to dive back under the covers and ignore the day, the morning is nice, and he takes refuge in knowing that he gets to witness it for once.
Until his phone rings.
“Fuck,” he hisses slowly, glaring at the offending object. Why he didn’t have it on silent by now he had no clue, but he swore to make the change right after the call.
And then he sees who’s calling, and that vow is thrown out the window, too.
“Hey, Ethan!” Mark greets, voice too light and cheery for the time. “How are you, man?”
Swallowing thickly, Ethan’s eyes dart around his room as though that will supply an appropriate answer, and clears his throat. He glances at the pillows and crumpled hot pack tucked halfway under his blanket, and pitches his voice higher to ignore the sudden lump in his throat. “Just woke up, but good. What do you need?”
“I was just calling to check in. We… haven’t talked much lately and I wanted to know how you were doing.”
No shit they hadn’t talked lately - it had been a few months since the end of Unus Annus, and their only text history was a one-sided effort from Ethan to hang out, which eventually became video chat, then call, and then nothing at all.
Not knowing what to say to that, he nods his head a few times, working his jaw like he’s still processing what Mark has said, and shifts under his blankets. “It’s early,” he finally settles on, “I’m usually not up by now. Not with - everything. You know that.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and then a quiet rustle of clothing. “I didn’t… I forgot, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“Talking more often might help you remember,” Ethan spits, a little too aggressive to be coming from him, about something as stupid as the time he wakes up, and he takes a deep breath to recollect himself. “You didn’t wake me. And I’m good, still.”
“Are you sure? You… You’ve been drinking a lot on streams. And I know you can handle yourself! But - I’m here if you need to talk, you know?”
Mark sounds genuinely worried, Ethan will give him that, but he can’t help the dry laugh that escapes him. “I’ve been trying to talk for months. Thank you, though.”
Another silence falls between them, and Ethan’s about to check if Mark’s hung up when he speaks again. “Let’s go for a walk. Like - like during Unus Annus. I think we both need it.”
And even though he’s a little pissed off at the man right now, Ethan sighs and agrees. “The dog park at five?”
“See you then.” Mark hangs up, and Ethan’s left alone. Again.
Ignoring the sudden stinging behind his eyes, he rolls over and grabs a pillow, pressing it to his chest with stuttered breath. Ten hours to go.
It’s cold outside. That’s really the only thing Ethan’s letting himself think about while waiting for Mark.
He’s not thinking about the tension between them, or how weird his friend has been acting lately, or about how badly he just wants a fucking hug when the couple across the park starts cuddling again. He’s just thinking about how the metal bars underneath him bite into his skin, even through his jeans, and how he really should have brought a heavier coat.
Spencer darts back and forth in front of him, wildly sniffing bushes and lampposts like he had never seen them before, and he watches his dog run with a sort of detached amusement. They had been to this park hundreds of times - especially in the last few months - but Spencer somehow always seemed just as excited as before to come back to it.
Ethan wishes he could feel like that. Could feel just as pumped about making a weekly run to the store, or the rare times he needed to purchase something for work, or even be excited about the fucking dog park. But it’s all the same - over and over and over again, a never-ending loop of gray that he’s starting to think he’ll never break away from.
A nose bumps against his leg, and he pets the attached head without thinking, working his hands through the fluffy hair before realizing that this is not his dog. “Took you long enough,” Mark murmurs, eyes crinkling behind his mask when Ethan finally looks up again. “What were you thinking about?”
Shrugging, Ethan whistles for Spencer, and stretches out his achy joints as he stands. He isn’t even surprised by Mark’s appearance at this point - he’s too understimulated to care about much right now. “It’s cold out.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” Mark puts his hands on his hips, like he always does when he has more to say, but ultimately drops them again and adjusts Chica’s leash. “Ready?”
“Sure.” He waits for Mark to go ahead, and trudges along after him, winding the rough material of Spencer’s leash around his hand to distract himself from the absolute cluster fuck going through his mind.
“So… what have you been doing recently?” Mark starts again, once they’re a decent ways away from the dog park and he’s realized Ethan isn’t going to pick up the conversational slack anymore. He’s aiming for confidence, but Ethan can see the way his hand twitches around Chica’s leash, and the younger man sighs.
“Nothing, to be honest. Just working and streaming, you know.” Spencer tugs at his leash, and feeling a little spiteful, Ethan stops, letting the dog take as much time as he wants to sniff the bushes. “Been up to anything interesting yourself?”
Mark shakes his head with a sigh, and he glances at Chica, watching her amble up to Spencer and investigate whatever’s in the concrete that smells good enough to have their complete attention for a couple minutes - a true feat with these dogs. “Nothing, either. I’ve been... working, yeah.”
“The great Mark Fischbach: the man who never stops working!” Ethan teases, throwing his hands out wide as though he was some old-timey announcer. “Is that really all you’ve been doing?”
When Mark averts his gaze, Ethan immediately knows something is wrong. “Yeah,” the older man says, trying to go for joking but ending up falling flat and dejected, “just. Work.”
“Yikes,” Ethan hums. He’s about to press for more, but Spencer bumps against his leg and he starts walking again, not eager to listen to a whiny puppy.
He kind of wants to bring it up again - knowing he’d be secretly grateful if someone took something he said like that at more than face-value, but he also knows Mark isn’t like him. Typically, if he wanted something brought up, he’d bring it up himself. Plus, when he had said it, his body language practically screamed that he was uncomfortable and didn’t want to talk about it. Ethan didn’t want to push him, especially considering where their relationship was…
But then again, he’d seen Mark crash and burn before. One too many projects piling up and slowly crushing them until he was left with nothing but some misconstrued guilt about letting people down.
Ethan got it. He was getting it, actually, that day and all of the other days after Unus Annus ended. Being wrung too tight and stretched too far to do much other than lay there, feeling dried out and thin as a wire, ready to snap at any minute.
So, he decides to say something. Just in case. “You haven’t done anything else? Just work? That can’t be healthy.”
Mark doesn’t say anything for a while, and Ethan’s counted twenty-two of their footfalls before he speaks again. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve been doing much either, Eth.”
He’s right, of course. Even the work that had seemed light-hearted and fun, like streaming with his friends, all had a little seedling of escapism in it. Everything he did, lately, seemed to be a means to an end.
Never one to try and hide his feelings (to anyone other than himself, of course), Ethan shrugs passively, looking over at Spencer to pretend to watch him. “That’s true. I just… I’ve been homesick, you know? I miss my family, man.” It’s hard to find the right words without completely putting all his cards on the table, so he settles on something smaller - something he actually has the words to describe. Something that won’t give away how utterly awful he’s feeling.
Chica jerks on her leash, and the momentary distraction gives them a minute before Mark responds. “Ouch,” he mutters sympathetically. “But you’ve been celebrating christmas without them for a while, right? What’s different this year?” The older man runs a hand through his hair, and Ethan hopes that the bits that fall into the man’s face hide the hurt expression before he can mask it.
“Uh… The pandemic, dude,” he jokes. He forces playful indifference into his voice, trying to cover up the shake he knows is there, but when Mark looks at him he knows he’s laid it on a little too thick. He coughs and tries again. “Can’t see anyone this year, really. Everyone’s too far away or can’t risk it.”
Mark hums, and there’s another pause before he speaks again. “Yeah, I feel you. Everyone’s going through it - just gotta get through somehow.”
It’s weird, to hear Mark talk like this. To hear the man that’s usually so good with uplifting speeches and comforting others just… toss aside something that’s hurting him like it’s a bad weather forecast.
Ethan shifts away from him and draws Spencer in, casting him an apologetic look for tearing the dog away from a fire hydrant. Maybe it is ridiculous, to be upset over something like this. It’s not like this is some great burden, placed on him and him alone - everyone’s going through it.
They don’t talk after that. Ethan has nothing he really wants to say - too caught up in debating over his own damn feelings - and Mark apparently thinks his turn to talk is over. It’s not long before they’re doubling back on their walk and standing in front of the dog park gate.
“I’m gonna go -”
“You should come over.”
Both of them speak at once, and while Ethan is still processing what just happened, Mark starts again. “You should come over. We can let Chica and Spencer play a little in the backyard.”
“Are you sure?” Ethan asks, before he can stop himself. It feels a little too good to be true - hanging out with anyone, at all, for more than a twenty-minutes walk or phone call, let alone the man he’s been trying tocontact for months now.
“Yeah, ‘course!” Mark twists and untwists Chica’s leash around his hand, and it’s the only sign that he’s just as nervous as Ethan is - that he has the same antsy tension thrumming through his veins at something so trivial as human contact. “I - I want to hang out with you, Eth. Despite… everything.”
He has half a mind to call Mark out - to bring up all of the bullshit he’s put up with in the past month or so, both from him and others - but the other half of him, the larger half, just wants a fucking hug.
“Okay,” he mutters, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, sure. I walked here, anyway.”
“Great!” Mark breathes, stumbling closer to him before quickly stepping away. His eyes are crinkled, the start of crow’s feet becoming more prominent in joy, and Ethan notes that this is the first time he’s seen the man smile since they initially left the dog park. “Cool - uh, cool! We can take my car, then.”
Gently pulling Spencer along with him in the direction of Mark’s car, Ethan snorts. “I would hope so. Your house is an hour walk away, at least, and I forgot to bring a coat.”
“Do you want mine?” At the mention of a coat, he stops in the middle of the road, hand clenching at the hem of his like he was fully prepared to rip it off then and there. “I can give you mine if you’re cold.”
Ethan stops, too, and glances between Mark and the car six feet away. He wants to bring up the sudden shift in demeanour, but decides against it in favor of not falling back into weird unspoken-tension territory. “Uh… Your car is right there.”
“Yeah…” Mark says slowly, turning around. He seems to be noticing it for the first time, like a troublemaking toddler “noticing” a broken vase, and Ethan’s really not sure why the fuck he’s acting like this right now. “It is. Right. We should get in, probably.”
“Is this a bit?” He bites out. Spencer immediately jumps in the car when Mark opens the door, and he laughs at how seemingly nothing’s changed for the dog when he can feel their relationship crumbling. “Because - yesterday you were ignoring me and now you’re acting all… I don’t even know! You’re, like, putting on this character and I have no idea what to even make of it!”
Mark blinks at the confession, and then deflates like a balloon, shoulders sagging and curling forward like he’s trying to protect himself. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, all of the fake (and somewhat creepy) peppiness gone from his voice. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and Ethan has to physically resist the urge to reach out and grab them. “I… I didn’t mean to let everything fall to the wayside.”
There’s a pause, and Ethan knows that in Mark’s weird mental rules, it’s his turn to speak. Not wanting to give up the first shred of actual information he’s gotten from the man in months, but also not wanting to have a lengthy discussion about feelings in the middle of a cold parking lot, Ethan nods at the car and slips into the passenger’s seat.
“What do you mean?” he asks, once Mark has turned on the car (and more importantly, the heat). “By letting everything fall to the wayside.”
The older man takes a moment to pull out of the parking space before glancing over at him. “Well, you, especially, know. We haven’t talked in…” he trails off, eyebrows furrowing in concentration.
“Two months,” Ethan finishes. “Just a little under two months.”
Mark swallows thickly, and his eyes dart to Ethan before glancing back out at the road. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Uh - two months. I didn’t… After Unus Annus ended, I just kinda threw myself into my work. I was trying to ignore -” he stops, and swallows again. His hand twitches on the center console, and Ethan itches to just grab it and never let go. “I just wanted to escape, for a little, you know? And then I ended up cutting everyone off. I’m sorry.”
Not knowing how to respond, Ethan hums contemplatively and sits on his hands. He wants to say it’s okay, to move on to forgiveness and just hope that everything will go back to normal, but it’s hard. These past few months have been lonely, with no one to talk to in person except for maybe Kathryn, and all of that built-up pain he’s been trying to suppress needs an outlet of some sort.
“What were you trying to run away from? It’s not like you to not at least try and work through things,” he asks instead, folding his legs up onto the seat and under him. Mark glances over at his shoes on the upholstery, and Ethan moves them off out of habit.
“I did,” Mark says, carefully level and neutral enough that Ethan can’t tell what he’s feeling. His fingers start drumming on the console, and Ethan finally grabs at his hand, pressing the antsy fingers against his palm. If he was slightly more optimistic, he would’ve sworn he could hear Mark’s breath hitch. “It didn’t work.”
Ignoring the subtle shake in his voice, Ethan nods slowly, squeezing Mark’s hand in his own. “That’s fair.”
There’s another lull in the conversation, neither really willing to continue on with small talk or touch on the elephant in the room, burning bright and hot and ugly and feeling almost palpable. Ethan coughs awkwardly and fiddles with the heat, and eventually Mark squeezes his hand back. “What were you ignoring?” he asks, after a minute. His voice is tense, now, strained to the point of breaking, but Ethan doesn’t comment on that, either. “I know it’s not just homesickness.”
“It’s mostly homesickness,” Ethan defends. “But… I don’t know, it’s just kinda everything else, too? I’m - I’m lonely, and touch starved, and tired -” Mark squeezes his hand again, and Ethan pauses. The thumb rubbing over his knuckles knocks the wind out of his chest. “It’s just a lot, right now. I don’t know.”
He says nothing at that, and carefully peels their hands apart once they reach his neighborhood. Ethan quickly shoves his hand in his pocket, trying to simulate the comforting warmth he knows he won’t get again for a while.
“I’m sorry,” Mark murmurs, still staring resolutely at the road. “I could’ve helped you.”
Ethan shrugs. It’s true, and they both know it, but it’s not like the man could have single-handedly solved the issue. He’s just one of the many people he’s missed. “Yeah. But you couldn’t’ve fixed it. It’s in the past, anyway, s’long as you keep talking to me.”
Mark grins at that, and Ethan takes a moment to appreciate the curve of his smile now that it’s not being blocked by a mask.
“I deserve that.” He pulls into his driveway, then, but makes no move to get out. “There’s… hot chocolate inside? If you want it. Uh, there aren’t any peanuts - I checked - but if you’re still suspicious, I get it.”
And there it is again. That weird-ass, hesitant, completely unlike Mark voice that he’s putting on. He sounds almost scared if Ethan thinks about it too hard.
So he doesn’t. Think about it, that is. “I’m sure it’s fine. But we have to actually be inside to make it, don’t we?”
Seemingly snapping out of some sort of daze, Mark jerks slightly, and looks around the car like he’s just now noticing it, for the second time that day. Ethan briefly wonders if this is all some isolation-induced fever dream until Mark speaks again. “Oh, shit. Yeah, let’s go inside.”
It’s significantly warmer inside, at least. The car had started to freeze much like everything else after Mark had turned it off and just sat there, so Ethan’s taking the opportunity to warm up by the small space heater Mark had turned on for him in the living room, listening to the older man bustle around while he lays on the floor with Chica. The dog makes small huffs every few seconds or so, and he keeps giving in and tangling his fingers in her fur, almost like a game. It’s nice, and one of the only pieces of normalcy he’s felt all day, so he feels no remorse in forcing Mark to put the mug on the table for him while his hand runs through her golden fur.
“Did you come over here just to play with my dog?” Mark asks, easy grin soothing any nerves Ethan had left over about being in his house after so long.
“Yes,” he replies, seriously. Then he smiles and scoots over to the table and Mark. “But I guess I missed you, too.”
The older man snorts, raising an eyebrow at what can only be described as a half-step away from a buttscoot, and takes a slow sip of his cocoa. “I missed you, too.” Ethan’s about to call bullshit, only half-joking, but Mark continues on instead. “I really fucked up, in not talking to you. I’m sorry.”
“You could tell me why you did it,” Ethan suggests. “I could have helped you, too.”
Mark looks at him for a long moment - a little too long for Ethan’s sanity, if he’s being honest - and then gives him a slow, sardonic grin. “I don’t think you could’ve helped me, Eth.”
“What do you mean?” There’s a sneaking suspicion that he’s supposed to read between the lines - figure out what Mark means through stilted, cryptic messages and meaningful looks - but he’s fucking tired, so if Mark is expecting anything from this he’s going to have to outright say it. After months of limited human contact, he is not in the mood to play stupid games to figure out what someone else means.
“I…” Mark swallows at that, and then knocks back a sip of cocoa with a wince like he’s downing shots at a high school party. There’s a new hesitancy about his actions, and Ethan fears he’s kicked the man back into the realm of radio-silence.
“I, uh… the last few months of Unus Annus, I tried to be around you more. I knew you were lonely - I was lonely, too - and I tried to... I don’t know. Just. Be there for you.” It sounds suspiciously like he’s trying to excuse his absence, and Ethan is about to call him out on it until Mark raises a trembling hand. Which is kinda weird, considering Ethan has never seen the man’s hands tremble before. “And then… and then Unus Annus got closer to ending and I realized that I wouldn’t - wouldn’t have this project with you anymore, and it was too much.”
“So you… cut me off because you wouldn’t get to spend as much time with me?” Ethan interrupts.
Mark laughs, and even though he’s more confused than amused, Ethan laughs too, if a little more hesitant. “Okay, that sounds stupid, yeah. But - it wasn’t that, really. I just… realized how attached I got and I couldn’t - couldn’t deal with it. So I needed to go cold turkey.”
“Again, you liked being around me, so you decided to stop talking to me when I needed you most? Just… leave me alone, knowing I had no one else?” He wants to believe Mark, wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his explanation is shoddy at best.
“No!” the older man quickly defends. “I just…” He lets out a heavy sigh, and before Ethan can really comprehend what’s just happened reaches out and intertwines their hands. “I was scared. You mean so much to me, Ethan, and I couldn’t handle just how much at first. I’m sorry.”
“Just how much?” Ethan echoes. His gaze flickers over Mark’s face, eyes searching for any kind of answer, and he damn near flinches when his friend squeezes their hands together.
Mark laughs, a little shakier than can be considered genuine, and leans over the table to get closer to Ethan. The younger man can feel his breath on his face - warm, if a bit gross - and he subconsciously leans in closer. “I’m in love with you, Eth. And I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner.”
“So that’s why you were working,” Ethan blurts, immediately ruining the mood. “Fuck, wait, hold on -”
Giggling wetly, Mark runs his thumb over his knuckles, soft grin setting off a chain-reaction of butterflies in his stomach. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “that’s why I was working. But I - I got over myself and I’d like to make it up to you, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Ethan sits back on his heels, bringing his face away from Mark’s, and tilts his head. “Make it up to me?” he asks, more aware of his surroundings now that he’s away from the overwhelming presence of Mark.
Reluctantly taking his hands away from Ethan’s, Mark gestures for him to sit down on the couch. When Ethan stumbles in his haste to get up, he glances at the other man, and flushes when he sees that he’s looking at him like he hung the stars.
“You said you were touch starved, right?” Mark asks, once they’re settled down and hands are re-intertwined at the insistence of Ethan. “I… I was thinking we could watch a movie together, for starters. And, uh… Maybe cuddle, too?”
“Oh.” Ethan stares down at their hands again, and he’s guessing Mark misses the flush he can feel creeping up his neck because he starts to pull his hands away.
“We don’t have to! I know it’d be… weird. After I just confessed, and all.”
“Why would it be weird?”
Mark blinks at that, and winces at Ethan’s vice grip when he tries to pull away for the second time. “Uh… It’s one-sided, right? I’d feel a little awkward cuddling someone that just, uh, confessed, you know?”
“Oh.” Ethan repeats. He smiles again, and laughs at the confused expression that flits across Mark’s face. “It’s… It’s not one-sided, dude.”
“Oh.” Neither of them do anything for a moment, both still wrapped up in their own little revelations. And then Ethan’s surging forward and they’re hugging for the first time in months.
It feels nice, being pressed up against the man like this. He can feel arms wrap around his waist and the heartbeat right under his jaw, and he feels the most alive he has in a while.
“Fuck, I missed this,” Mark groans, squeezing Ethan impossibly closer. “To think, we could’ve had this for ages if I wasn’t such a dumbass.”
Ethan hums in agreement, huffing out a soft chuckle, and curls around the older man. They’ll have time to figure all of this out later. For now, he’s here and warm and loved, and that’s all he can ask for.