Work Text:
Mark doesn’t know where Damien is planning on taking this, and he doesn’t like it.
The string lights that dangled over the rooftop the two were on swayed lightly in the breeze, gently illuminating the surface of everything under it. Towering skyscrapers glimmered down on them too, mimicking the stars that they concealed. A rooftop cocktail bar seemed an all-too-casual place for a campaign fundraiser, but Mark didn’t know enough about politics (nor Damien’s event coordination team) to question it.
What he definitely questioned, though, was the scene unfolding in front of him — which was conveniently spotlighted by an orange tinted glow. It was almost taunting how the lights shone directly down, making sure it was the focal point of Mark’s attention.
A blonde woman who looked considerably younger than him stood over Damien, her pale hand on his shoulder. Her bleached hair swayed slightly onto her face in the night’s breeze, and she smoothly moved her hand over her heavily made up face to swoop it back into place. She’d been lingering around Damien for a few minutes now, circling him and making small talk about God knows what. Her lips were twisted into an overly charming smile and they remained that way, as if her mouth was stuck like that. Bright white teeth clenched together, save for the occasional exaggerated laugh that she’d force out after Damien made a joke (which Mark didn’t think was even that funny). Occasionally, her white painted nails would even teasingly trail up and down Damien’s arm as he spoke, her sharp gaze softening slightly as she bent over and faced him eye-to-eye.
The strangest part of it all? Damien didn’t seem to mind. And it wasn’t even necessarily that he enjoyed it — he just seemed totally indifferent to the entire situation. It might’ve been that Damien was unaware of the woman’s flirtatious ploys, but Mark didn’t think his friend was that clueless, especially considering the promiscuous monster he’d been in university. So why was he sat on that chair, talking to that woman like it was the most innocent thing in the world?
Scratch that, why did Mark even care this much? It doesn’t matter what Damien does — or who he does — because that is nobody’s business but his. If anything, Mark should be happy for his friend. In all their years together, he’d almost never seen Damien pursue a woman romantically. Maybe he’d even end up settling down with this girl, maybe this night would turn into something special, and…
Ugh. The thought made him clench his fists in unwarranted annoyance.
Mark didn’t know what he was thinking. He didn’t know why the thought of the two together was eating away at him like this. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about a future between them, why he was making up these imaginary scenarios just to upset himself further. He didn’t understand why the sound of her chuckle dug into his ears like nails on a chalkboard, why Damien’s sweet and professional grin felt like a stab in the gut, why he looked at her with wide and attentive eyes as she talked about the most unnecessary, uninteresting bullshit—
“Hey, uh, lady?” Mark said, giving up on remembering her name mid-sentence. Her aggravating grin turned to face him as her hand travelled down Damien’s shoulder. Both their eyes were on him, waiting.
“I just saw your friend getting grabbed on by some guy. You should probably go check that out, make sure she’s okay.” He continued nonchalantly. The woman’s face quickly turned to one of horror and worry as she hurried away, reluctantly letting go of Damien and flashing him a quick smile before disappearing into the crowd. Mockingly, Mark gave her an exaggerated smile before rolling his eyes and slumping back in his chair.
A little white lie never hurt anyone, right? Plus, it’d probably go do her some good to stick with people she already knew. And Damien would surely thank him for getting her off his back. Everybody wins.
Or so he thought. But Damien’s furrowed brows, wide eyes, and open mouth seemed to disagree with that notion.
“Mark, what the hell was that?” Damien hissed as soon as the woman was out of sight.
Mark tilted his head slightly and replied in a whisper. “What, too far?”
“That’s the representative of one of the biggest businesses in town you just scared off, you understand that, right?”
“Oh, come on.” Mark rolled his eyes again and aggressively placed his hand on the table. “She was trying to sleep with you. That’s all she wanted.”
Damien squinted in disbelief, and argued back, “I’m not stupid, I could tell. But a donor is a donor, and votes are votes. You know the campaign’s been tough.”
“Are you serious?” Mark felt his anger from earlier return, feeling the frustration rise through his throat and into his voice. He didn’t understand why this upset him so much, and at this point, he almost didn’t want to. “So you were ready to fuck her if it meant more money in your pocket? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I didn’t say that–”
“No? Because that’s sure what it sounds like.” He snapped back, an astounded laugh sneaking between his syllables. “That’s messed up. And I thought she was taking advantage of you.”
“Wh– Look,” Damien put both his hands on the table and attempted to collect himself, taking a deep breath through his nose and continuing his sentence, “I appreciate that you were trying to help. I get it. Thank you. But let me handle these things myself in the future, okay?”
Mark scoffed, nose scrunching in disgust. He hated the way Damien was speaking to him, like he was scolding him, like Mark was the one acting out of line. The condescension in Damien’s voice angered him, almost as much as the fact he knew that he deserved it.
“God, who even are you?” Mark shouted back defensively, “You’d throw away your dignity so easy for a few measly dollars? That is not the Damien I know.”
“Mark, calm down–”
“I am calm!” He responded, throwing his hands up in a hostile manner, “Who– Who says I’m not calm? I am so calm!” Mark’s unconvincing smile grew wider along with his eyes.
“I am so unbelievably calm! You wouldn’t believe it, you wouldn’t even believe–” He paused and slammed his hands onto the table, making Damien flinch at the sudden display of aggression, “–how calm I am.”
“Jesus, what is the matter with you?!” Damien responded, anxiously glancing around and hoping the people around them were too engrossed in their own conversation to see what was happening. His voice was near a whisper, making Mark’s yelling seem demonstrably more out of place. “I don’t get it! Are you jealous or something?”
“Jealous?” The accusation echoed in Mark’s head. There was something so infuriating about the fact jealousy was being used to describe this disappointment. Of all things, jealousy? Mark had a wife at home. The most wonderful, beautiful, heaven-sent wife. A wife with modesty, with truth outside of excess flattery, with dark and defiant hair that spat in the face of the all-too-common blonde that woman wore. It wasn’t jealousy of Damien – God, no! It was more like pity! “Of you? Absolutely n–”
“No, of… of her.” Damien practically mumbled the second part of that sentence, realising the absurdity of it as he was putting it into words.
And it was absurd. Mark almost let out a small laugh before he caught himself.
It was absolutely ridiculous. Ludicrous. He hated that something so idiotic, so blatantly wrong was making his stomach drop the way it was, and making his thoughts rush so fast it made his head spin.
Mark’s intense gaze slowly softened as he attempted to process the avalanche of thoughts inside his head. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked down at the table to avoid as much eye contact with Damien as possible.
There was nothing Mark hated more than being helpless. Ever since he was a young boy, the very thought of not understanding what was happening around (or inside of) him would send him into a state of panic. Control was all he needed, especially over himself, and it was something he had begun to master over the years. A large part of this control was, of course, understanding himself. How can you control something you don’t understand? The simple answer is: you can’t. Which is why Mark had no choice but to sit and watch as every belief he held about his love for his friend crumbled in front of him, piece by piece, memory by memory. And he loathed it. With every moment that passed by in the deafening bustle of that rooftop bar, he came to realise the one thing he hated more than anything that night – himself.
But this was a problem for his future self to deal with. For now, all he had to do was set all this confusion aside for later.
“No, I just… I’m– sorry. I don’t know… what that was.” Mark muttered, forming a weak smile as he looked up and back into Damien’s eyes. “I shouldn't've overreacted.”
“Oh. Well, thank you for apologising. Just don’t go that crazy when I start seeing someone, alright?” Damien joked, forcing out an awkward laugh yet still failing dreadfully at lightening the mood. Mark attempted to blink away the sinking feeling in his heart and slowly took a sip of his drink, his eyes again trying to escape Damien’s.
“Yeah.”