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It had been so long. So long since Rob was on stage with them. So long since their fans were the same people, since Take That fans were shouting Robbie's name.
Mark lay on his bed in the hotel room, thinking about the tour. Robbie's hologram had brought back a pang of grief that he hadn't felt in quite a while, not since his best friend left all that time ago. He didn't know what he was hoping for, perhaps that Robbie would miraculously appear in their dressing room and thank them for including him in the show, reminding him that he belonged in the band. He'd saunter in all stardom and glitter and announce that he was here to stay. They'd hoped that maybe it would serve to remind everyone, mainly him, that the door was open for Rob at any time. Either way it was more than likely that the act had gone unnoticed. Rob never appeared, even though every night Mark couldn't help glancing at the door, waiting for him to swing it open and fill the room with laughter, like the last fifteen years had all been some elaborate joke.
It had been so long. Mark had to know. He had to get in touch with him, to know where he was and what he was doing. He had to say hello, and sorry, and how was the tour going. He just had to hear his voice one more time. His phone lay next to him on the cold pillow, and he turned it over in his hand before he opened it and typed in the familiar number. He briefly wondered how he was able to remember the number so easily, seen as it had been so long, but he guessed it had something to do with reflex. This was natural. Calling Robbie felt natural.
While the phone rang, Mark wondered what to say. He could be cool and collected, a simple "hello" letting Robbie know that he was calm, that this conversation was normal and expected. Perhaps if he hid his own tentativeness Robbie would be more likely to... to speak to him? To call again? To fly over to England? Mark didn't have time to feel ridiculous, however, as the phone suddenly answered. Mark, in shock, stuttered out a weak noise that sounded something like hello. The responding voice was low and smooth,
"Hello? Who is this?"
Mark only paused for a second before he realised that he'd switched phones, that Robbie didn't know who was calling him. For a brief, insane moment, he imagined hanging up and leaving Robbie guessing who had called him, but something stopped him from holding the phone to his ear and speaking,
"It's, uh, Mark."
A beat. The voice on the other side seemed shocked when it finally spoke again, "Oh Mark. Uh. Hello." The words seemed forced and nervous.
"Is this a bad time? I can leave, I'm sorry." Mark rambled, beginning to doubt whether he should have contacted Rob.
"No! Please stay." The voice blurted.
"I forgot about time zones." The excuse sounded ingenuine, and Mark inwardly cringed and how badly the conversation was going. What was he expecting? A love story with a happy ending?
"I missed you Markie."
The sentence startled him out of his self-deprecation. It was so softly spoken that it made Mark want to cry. He remembered how Rob used to say his name, how he was the only one who used the childish nickname, because he was the only one that Mark let. Markie began echoing in his head. It reminded him of beaches and cheeky grins and bad haircuts. Dark nights and sharing a bed and stolen kisses.
Markie.
They had both been silent for a while. Mark blushed. Did Rob want him to say something?
"Sorry for calling, seems obnoxious now I've done it."
"That's a big word! Hanging around with Jay too much does that."
"I can use big words Rob." Jesus, he sounded like a kid.
"Fuck. I know, Markie. Sorry. Just been a while. You've changed s'all."
Mark was secretly glad he didn't have to be the one to bring it up.
"It has. Been ages, I mean."
"Fuck, when did we last speak?"
He could hear Rob sitting up. Was he in bed like him?
"What was it Knebworth?"
Mark wanted to make a snide comment. He wanted to shoot back that him and Rob hardly met that night, that they were like cars passing on a motorway, both heading in different directions. But the words got stuck in his mouth, and he mumbled a broken 'yeah' into the phone. His hand shook as he bit his lip. Jesus why was he crying? Was he really still that caught up about Rob?
He already knew the answer, of course. Always.
"I saw that hologram of me."
That surprised Mark. He gasped. Robbie didn't let him catch his breath before whispering "I wish I was there in person." The sentence is so quiet, so quickly spoken, that Mark almost misses it.
But he hears it, and he's angry. He wants to tell Robbie that it's not too late, that he could come back. If it was Gaz he was sure that Rob would already be on the next plane over, enamoured by Gaz's encouraging words and promises of forgiveness. But he remembers how it used to be, with Rob and Gaz like two alphas fighting for the top spot. He remembers feeling so scared when Robbie fell. He remembers when Robbie began to build himself up to where he is now. When he changed and became a new man. Became a stranger to Mark.
He wants to throw his phone. He wants to scream at Rob. He wants to tell him he loves him. Wants to tell him to fuck himself, to take his hologram and shove it. He wants to use every bad word he's ever learnt and throw them at Rob. For the first time in his life, he lets his emotions control him, lets all the anger from the past ten years build up.
"It's late. I'll call you tomorrow. See you mate."
Just like that Rob's gone again. Mark knows he won't call him. He sinks onto the worn carpet and sobs, lets his emotions bleed out as he feels the heartbreak he's been working so hard to hide.