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Ethan sniffles softly, tugging his duvet tighter around himself as though that would keep the thoughts at bay. The slight pressure feels nice - a little like giving himself a hug - and he applauds his past self for figuring the trick out. Even if the reason why he had figured it out wasn’t something he wanted to think about.
His phone pings in the background, interrupting the soft Christmas music he was playing, and he smashes his face into a pillow and screams.
The worst part is that nothing happens, after he does. There’s no automatic catharsis, no little balloon of negative feelings floating up, up and away like fluffy clouds, and no one to hear him.
He’s alone.
Another notification noise pops up, and he finally leans over to grab at his phone, swiping away the music.
Mark: hey, call me when you get the chance.
Mark: it’s nothing important, don’t worry
Letting out a small sigh of relief when he sees the second message, Ethan shakily taps on the call button, taking a deep breath to steel himself for the conversation ahead. It’s not that he’s trying to hide how he’s feeling or anything, he just… Doesn’t want Mark to know quite yet. Especially for something that will be solved as soon as the holidays pass.
”Hey!” Mark greets, once he picks up. His hair looks messy and unkempt, and Ethan briefly wonders when the last time he showered was.
“Hi, what’s up?” He tries to smile, but the earlier anxiety of the implication of a “serious talk” hasn’t quite left him, even with Mark’s reassurance.
The video jerks, and Ethan imagines it’s Mark shrugging. ”I just wanted to talk to you, honestly. I’ve missed you.”
Huh.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Ethan says, instead of voicing any of the thoughts that particular sentiment sparks. “What brought this on, though?”
”Just… I don’t know. A lot?” He scratches at his chin with his free hand, and Ethan notices how messy that is, too. Mark’s never messy like this without a reason. ”With the holidays coming up and all, I just realized that things are different this year.”
It’s not something Ethan needs to be reminded of. He’s constantly made aware of it - in the PSAs around every corner, the updated Christmas ads, hell, even the songs he’s been playing to fill the silence make sure to rub it in his face that he won’t be able to celebrate like usual.
“It’s Christmas Eve and I haven’t even watched a Christmas movie,” Ethan hums, pulling at a string on his duvet. He’s never been the most articulate at expressing his feelings, and starting small feels like his best bet. “That’s really fucking sad, dude.”
There’s a pause on the other side of the phone, before Mark is clearing his throat and speaking up. “I mean, you could always come over here.” Before Ethan can question what that means, he continues. ”I mean, I have a metric shit ton of old movies collecting dust. Like, all the classics. I haven’t touched them yet, though - it’s too weird to watch them alone.”
Knowing how that feels, Ethan nods in agreement and glances at the clock. It’s a little past ten at night - giving him enough time to wallow in self-pity if he wanted.
He’s been doing that a lot, though.
“Sure, why not? It’s not like I have anything going on,” he says instead, smiling tightly for the sake of appearances. “I’ll drop by in twenty?”
Mark smiles - warm and inviting - and nods. ”Sounds great.”
And then he hangs up, and Ethan’s left alone again. He could still skip and spend the night crying into his pillow.
But then he thinks of Mark’s smile, and the twinkle in his eyes even through the shitty phone quality, and hops out of bed.
It’s a lot brighter, in Mark’s house. He has more lights spread around - both in the ceiling and in decorative lamps and Christmas lights - and Ethan feels the heavy weight that’s been crushing his chest lift, just a little.
“Glad you could make it, dude!” Mark calls from the kitchen, shuffling back to Ethan with two mugs in his hands. He passes one to him, and after reassuring him it’s safe, Ethan takes a hesitant sip.
“Oh,” he says, savoring the thick sweetness of the chocolate and burn of the whiskey. “This is - this is spiked hot chocolate.”
“Yeah, it is.” Mark chuckles when he scrunches his nose after another sip, and gently leads him to the couch. “‘S that okay?”
“Of course!” He flops down on the couch - familiarity taking temporary control - and sets his mug down on the coffee table to let it cool a little. Mark automatically scoops it up and places a coaster down, prompting a laugh from Ethan. “I’ll never remember that, will I?”
Grabbing the remote, the older man looks back at him, amusement clear on his face. “No, I don’t think you will.”
“Whatever,” Ethan huffs. He fiddles with a string on the couch, and carefully avoids Mark’s gaze. “Just play the damn movie, Romeo.”
“Romeo? How am I Romeo?” Mark asks, smiling widely. The soft light of the TV and Christmas lights frame his face beautifully, and he quickly picks up his mug.
To avoid saying anything he’ll regret, he takes a slow sip of his hot chocolate, smiling at the warmth that spreads through his chest. “I don’t know - this is all very date-like, you have to admit. Are you trying to swoon me or something, Romeo?”
Mark blinks for a second. And then he leans back against the couch, a disbelieving smile playing on his lips. “Are you drunk?”
Ethan doesn’t even know where to start with that, so he takes another slow sip of his drink, holding eye contact with his friend the whole time. “No, I’m not fucking drunk,” he finally says, once he’s gotten over the sheer stupidity of that statement. “I’ve had, like, three sips. I can barely even taste the alcohol in this!”
“Then why…?” Mark trails off, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. When he’s silent for another minute, Ethan reaches over and takes the remote from his lap and starts Home Alone.
“I’ll let you puzzle this one out,” he teases, when Mark glances from him to the TV. “Don’t hurt your brain, though!”
It takes a little bit - almost the whole movie, in fact - before Mark brings it up again.
They’re closer now, bodies almost pressed into each other, and he brings the arm slung on the back of the couch down until it’s on Ethan’s shoulders. “Were you being serious?” he murmurs, fingers slowly tracing shapes onto Ethan’s bicep. “With the whole ‘Romeo’ thing.”
He waits until the action scene is over before he turns to the man, and flushes at their proximity. Mark’s eyes dart down to his lips, and any anxiety building up in him is slowly being released the closer he leans in. “Yeah,” he whispers, just barely loud enough to be heard over the TV and forcing the other man to lean in even closer, “I was being pretty serious. Gotta admit, I’m being a little swooned right now.”
“I’m not sure that’s grammatically correct, honestly,” Mark laughs, but his hand curls around Ethan and pulls him until there’s just a few inches between them, so he figures it doesn’t matter all that much.
“Probably not. That’s just how much you get to me, dude.”
“Don’t ‘dude’ me when I’m about to kiss you.” Before Ethan can even process what’s been said, Mark closes the gap between them, and he decides their stupid banter can wait for later.