Chapter Text
Your boyfriend wasn't the most mature person in the world, and that was obvious to everyone who had ever met him.
It was already made clear by Mark's typical demeanor alone, not to mention how he'd been holding off on college to play games in a hole with his friends. (The hole was also in the middle of the woods. And those woods were always full of little kids.) It got worse when those friends left him, resulting in him basically becoming a hermit. That’s when hanging out in Elder Rock became all that he ever did .
And you did not have a problem with Mark's interests, or the harmless aspects of his personality. You wanted him to take better care of himself, of course, but if you didn't love him & how he spent all of his time, you wouldn't have stuck with him for so long, or for so often.
Mark was at the creek? Then you'd be there, too. He wanted to watch My Hoagie Academia with you? You were seated. He was raving about a new toy he saw online? You'd be ordering it for him as a present. He planned out another session of Goblins & Grottos? You were at the game table, listening to him narrate like it was the most interesting and enthralling thing you've ever heard. It might as well be, given how much you adored the performances he'd put on for it.
After all, these were just hobbies. Endearing hobbies, at that! Even if some found them juvenile, why should you care? Hell, you enjoyed it too- and you'd be lying if you said that you didn't have a pile of stuffed animals on your bed at home. Who says you ever need to stop enjoying the things you liked as a kid? Especially when he loved them so clearly and unapologetically.
What was concerning was how Mark could act , even around his friends. He was bossy, he was petulant, he was mocking, and seemed to outright refuse to be responsible, productive, or... well, an adult . Which maybe, possibly... definitely was the reason why David and Barry had left him behind. Not that he saw it that way. In fact, you don't think Mark ever even realized when he was being mean. Communication and understanding was notably lacking in the Elders' friend group, but it was a little too late to do anything about that, now wasn't it?
That left you alone with Mark for a good while, a fact you weren't upset about on its own. But he clearly wasn't taking it well, as much as he tried to hide it. He'd brush it off, say it was fine, tell you just how happy he was that they were gone. Then he'd be curling up in your arms the day after, whining and sulking as he made you pet his hair. It was obvious that David and Barry's absence had an impact on him, whether he was being straightforward about it or not.
Though, after a few weeks of this, you really thought that things could start looking up. After all, Mark had made a new friend! One around his age, even! Well, Jerry was there too, but was he really even Mark's friend ? You guess that was the first red flag pointing out how he didn't really care who his new "friends" were- if he had you and two other stand-ins, maybe life could go back to the way it was before. Just him and his three best friends in the whole creek.
While you didn't recognize that at first, it quickly dawned on you. You saw potential between him and Bernard, considering their nerdy personalities and the fact that they both had the people they love walk out on them. (Justifiably so; but you never said that.)
But the potential Mark saw wasn't really in making Bernard his new friend- he just wanted him to be a replacement. And since he wanted to control David and Barry so much, he also managed to make Bernard, like... another version of himself? It was confusing. And weird. And manipulative.
And sad. So, so sad!
You could tell how hard Mark was trying to hold on, to go back to how it used to be. After standing and observing it for so long, even joining in when he, Bernard, and Jerry played a game or watched an anime, you realized that this went way beyond "childish hobbies" or "acting immature." Mark was clinging onto any part of his childhood that he could. (And after learning a bit about Bernard, it seemed like he was kind of doing that too. Double the sadness.)
Luckily, Bernard's girlfriend and little brother came back to save him from the grubby clutches of your own boyfriend. As upsetting (and slightly entertaining in its own weird way) it was to watch Mark lose a sword battle, you couldn't help but feel a little relief at seeing Bernard walk away. Continuing on with his life, alongside the ones he loved... after his girlfriend had fought for him... even if he was scared to grow up...
Okay, maybe it also made you feel crazy guilty. Why can't you be like that cool warrior girl Alexis? Why can't you talk some sense into Mark and help him get over his fears? Why couldn't you save him? It's not just because he’s stubborn and wouldn't like it- you can't even bring yourself to do it .
With how often Mark hurt other people's feelings, it was a little ironic that you were terrified of hurting his own.
He'd been through so much. As far as he was aware, his friends bailed on him for no reason. In fact, another friend just "bailed on him for no reason." And you were present to see how he processed all of it, from how he isolated himself and acted aloof, to how he clung to you and complained about it till his voice got sore. How absolutely devastated he looked.
And how would he look at you if you tried to properly talk to him about his behavior? How he should "act nicer" and "grow up." How everything David said to him before he left was true. He'd be so hurt! He'd look so upset! His cute mouth would turn into a frown, and his eyes would narrow at you behind his glasses like you had turned on him, like you had betrayed him. What if he got angry? What if he cried? What if it would break his heart?
And it'd be all your fault. Your precious boyfriend's heart? Yeah, it's broken and stomped on and lying on the floor. Great job.
...Okay, it was definitely way more serious to you than it probably should've been. Regardless, the thought was enough to make you feel a little sick. So, you bottle up your thoughts and hold them in, hoping that things could improve just enough , so that you’d never have to say them. Naturally.
But before you start worrying about making Mark upset again, you turn your attention to how he is currently upset, laying in the dirt after Alexis had convinced Bernard to go with her. You 're quick to rush over to him, brows pinched in worry as you do.
"Mark!"
Hearing you approach, he looks up, an annoyed expression plastered on his face after his "defeat." You drop down to your knees to be eye-level with him, the cloak he had given you to match him and Bernard pooling at your feet.
"...You okay?" You ask, which makes you feel a little stupid. Obviously, he was not okay. But what are you supposed to ask your boyfriend after he loses a sword fight? (Especially when he didn't really even lose- the fight just ended because one of his friends decided to leave him. Again. God.)
Mark lets out a soft groan as he gets himself up from the ground, sitting beside you. “Never felt better .”
You give a little frown at hearing the disgruntled tone in his usually boisterous and nerdy voice. Bringing your hand up, you cup his cheek, which had gotten smashed into the ground after Alexis had swept his leg and made him topple over. (Which also may have been deserved, but that didn't stop you from gasping and covering your mouth in concern when you had witnessed it happen.) Mark looks at you as you do, hardened eyes softening to look a bit more… pitiful , said kindly. He leans in, melting into your hand’s touch while you wipe away at the dirt that had gotten on him.
It’s impossible for you to not smile at it. You hated seeing him so upset, but you weren’t immune to the way he gazed at you, letting you tend to him like he was some sort of puppy. This is cut short though, with Mark soon pulling away from you and wiping at his face by himself. “Hey, hey, I’m fine , y’know. You don’t have to look at me like that.” He complains, cheeks warm.
Letting out an amused huff of air, you tilt your head at him. “Like what?” You ask, forcing your voice to sound less jokey than it could come across as. Now wasn’t the time to get him all annoyed. While you loved to give him some lighthearted teasing, it was hard to tell if the tone would land and make him feel amused, or if it would just piss him off.
“ Like… you know !” He answers, gesturing with his hands, as if that would help you understand any better. He then gives up, crossing his arms in frustration instead. “Like I’m some kid who needs a kiss and a band-aid every time he gets a boo-boo .” He kicks at the ground, giving an emphasized pout as he says the last word. You swallow back your need to giggle.
“Am I not allowed to help out my boyfriend when he needs me to?” You ask with a tilt of your head, voice soft. “And I thought you liked my kisses.”
Mark’s cheeks go red again at your second sentence, and he turns to look away from you. Who was he kidding; he couldn't deny that! And he’d be lying if he said he didn't crave your kisses more now than ever. You had been giving him plenty when it was just the two of you- Bernard joining the group and being around so often made them less frequent, which had Mark feeling pretty frustrated.
"Well, maybe, but… I don’t need help." He frowns, the stubborn expression accentuating the new eye bags that adorned his face. "You’re always coddling me! Like I'm weak . I'm not weak. I can take care of myself!”
That made you pause for a second. Coddle him?. You held him and stroked his hair often, made him food, praised him for admittedly almost anything , sure... but he clearly enjoyed all of that, proven by how he actually begged for those things sometimes. Realistically, you knew he was just being defiant because he was in a bad mood- but the thought of accidentally making him uncomfortable with how you treated him was one that made your skin crawl.
"I’m sure you can, I-... and I don’t think you're weak , Mark. Of course not." You eventually stammer, not wanting him to believe you'd ever see him like that.
But then again… and you’re saying this purely based on observation, not to be mean… could he really take care of himself? Properly, you mean. The man hadn't showered in, from what you've gathered, years . He eats junk food all the time and only knows how to make hot pockets and ramen. He's been doing nothing but holing up and blaming his friends for leaving him after he had been unkind to them for so long.
But you don't want to tell him that.
It’s not like you look down on him for it. And as ridiculous as it was, you liked doing things for him. And he seemed to like it, too! Mark was lazy and wanted you to serve him or whatever, and you, somewhat embarrassingly, were happy to serve. Without focusing on how much you wanted Mark to move forward and improve himself, it was a dynamic that worked. That’s what you thought, at least. But now you’re being told that you’re coddling him. Which, frankly, was the last thing you wanted to do.
"And I'm not trying to make you feel like you are," you add on, and your other hand moves to one half of his middle part's greasy bangs. You slide your fingers into it, feeling like you just can't keep your hands off of him. Despite him not being the most cleanly, or even the most deserving in a lot of people’s eyes, you adored giving him attention. Maybe even more than he adored receiving it, but that’d be a bold claim to make. "I just care about you a lot, y'know? I'm not trying to coddle you. I love doing things for you, and thought that you loved it too. I love you .”
For a moment, it seems that you’ve calmed him down. He’s always one to soften up when you touch him, even when he’s grouchy like he is now. His eyes close behind his glasses as your fingertips stroke over his scalp, mouth shifting like he’s holding back a whimper. But his brows furrow just a moment later, and he moves a little ways away from you, scoffing. “But you… you’re saying that like you’re not just gonna leave me, too.”
Okay, that almost knocked the wind out of you. Was he trying to push you away? He didn’t actually think you were coddling him, did he…? He just wanted you to be discouraged from getting closer to him and leave now, so that he didn’t have to feel the pain of it later?
Ohhhh god. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you thought about it.
You pull your hand back after he moves to avoid it, eyes a little wide with surprise and concern. “What do you mean?” You ask- but you knew exactly what he was getting at.
"Everyone leaves. That's what they do . They get sick of me. They don't like what I have to say, or how I act, and they leave." Mark answers, rolling his eyes, and he scoots further away from you in the dirt. To him, maybe you seem dedicated, but so did all his friends. And look where he ended up. He crosses his arms, resting them on his knees and pulling his legs up to his chest. "You may think you looove me now, but then you're gonna realize I'm too much for you. And you're gonna ditch me ."
"Mark, no , that's not gonna happen." You reply softly, not knowing just how to get that through to him. He was stubborn, and you worry that you would say something stupid, or he'd keep doubting you anyway, and you don't know if he wants you to touch him anymore or not, and your heart feels like it’s going to spill out of your chest. Your voice is both serious and gentle, and you lean in just slightly closer after he’d moved away, keeping your hands down for now. "This is different , okay? I'd never leave you."
He finally looks back up at you with a hint of a glare, but it doesn't look as mean as he probably wants it to. "How do you know that, huh?" He interrogates, tilting his head down to almost hide from you in his arms. "That you won't end up hating me like everyone else?"
“Because there’s nothing that could ever make me hate you! Or hate being around you!” Your voice is so tender that it’s nearly a whisper at this point, though it’s just as pressing. Obviously he was going to be doubting you a little now, nobody else he trusted had continued to hang around. But it still made you feel awful. How he was even considering that you could leave, that you’d ever want to leave. That he wasn’t the one person you cared about the most in your whole life.
“I mean, aren’t I the only one who’s…” You began, but your words falter a little before you continue, “...the only one who’s still here…?
You watch as Mark’s face drops to something sadder, brows softening. A hint of anger bubbles up in his eyes for just a second before it simmers down again.
Sucking in a breath, you give an apologetic expression, and you keep your eyes on his. "Barry and David left, but I'm still here. Bernard left, but I'm still here . I've been meeting with you at the creek every day just to spend more time with you. I love being with you." You proclaim, voice soft. "Isn’t it obvious that I want to stay? Really, Marky, why would I leave you now? After all of this?"
There's a pause, Mark letting himself sit with your words, stew in them. He's quiet, giving that same look- but then his face scrunches in an almost babyish way, frown tightening, and he blinks a few times. You feel your stomach give an uncomfortable, worried churn. Was he about to tear up? You guess it shouldn’t surprise you- for someone who acted as haughty as he did, it was actually pretty easy for him to start crying. And he had just lost another friend mere minutes before this. But that absolutely did not make you feel any less sick over it.
Mark lets out a little noise, trying to say something, but it stops short, quickly becoming weak. He clears his throat and sucks in a breath, looking down at his boots. "I-I dunno." He manages to speak with a frown, quieter again, his geeky voice now slightly squeaky. "I don't know why everyone... why they all hate me now."
Your chest aches, heart breaking, and you have to hold back from replying bluntly. It's because you're mean. You push people away. They got tired of your attitude. You still just can’t bring yourself to say it, to show him that you understand why his ex-friends decided to go. Especially not right now. It can happen one day… but not today.
Letting yourself scoot a little closer, your hands move up to touch him again, almost out of instinct, before you pause. You make your movements slower, seeing if Mark tries to stop you, but he doesn't, and you continue. Your hands rest dearly on his shoulders, giving them a little rub over the thick fabric of his cloak.
"Well, I think you're perfect." You decide on saying, which wasn't a lie. Even with his flaws, Mark really was perfect to you. Creative, beautiful, precious.
He actually lets himself lean into your touch again, looking back to your eyes with his wet, dark brown ones, catching the light of the sun. He seems to enjoy the sentiment, but then he squints. "Yeah, "perfect." And they cut me out of their lives anyway."
Mark looks a little pained now, grimacing as he moves his gaze to the side again. He brings a hand up to wipe at one of his eyes, almost angrily, shoving his glasses out of the way and making them crooked. "Saying I'm a bad friend... what'd I ever do wrong ..." He mutters to himself, about what David had told him before he left, a few cracks in his words. "Spent their whole lives with me, 'n they left me just like that..."
"Hey, hey, Mark, it's okay..."You whisper, unsure how to reply with anything other than more comfort to try and calm him down. You bring your hand up to his other closed eye, very gently and carefully wiping at his damp lashes. You feel a lump forming in your own throat just from feeling it.
Mark’s body gives a little shake as he lets out a harsh exhale, and he presses his cheek into your palm. "It's not okay! They’ll never wanna see my face again." A small sob forces its way out of him, the noise almost goofy-sounding, and his shoulders hike up. In his mind, Mark must think he was nothing but kind to them! What right did they have to walk out on him like that? On their best friend? "They're so... so..." one of his hands hits the ground in frustration, the word coming out through gritted teeth, "STUPID!"
He feels your free hand move down to rub at his back, and all his complaints about you babying him fall flat as he lets out a hiccup, finally breaking and pushing himself into you to be held. You wrap your arms around him as he does the same to you, messily grasping at the back of your clothes while he heaves and cries into your shoulder. Usually when you hold him like this, it's so careful, like he was something fragile. But the way he's pressing himself up against and grabbing at you for dear life makes you hold on a bit firmer. You give a squeeze to try and match his tight grip, petting him and letting him get your clothes wet with tears.
Mark's way of crying was a bit... comical. But that only hurt you more, with how distressed and dramatic it was. His wails were muffled against you, childish, some coming from the back of his throat, akin to an infant. You swear you could hear him whine something about "Kenny," mentioning him for the first time since that phone call three months ago. You start to rock yourself back and forth, slowly, like a parent would for their child. Maybe he was a little onto something in regards to you "babying him"... but how are you supposed to respond when he's acting like this?
"Just let it all out, sweetheart ..." You encourage softly, reverently, pressing your face into his (greasy) hair, finally helping him get all the pent-up sadness out of his system. It took a long moment, but once his wailing had lessened into whimpers and deep, shaky breaths, you speak again, fingertips stroking his back underneath his cloak.
Mark continued to whine into you, his breaths short and shrill. He tried his hardest for months, but he couldn’t pretend anymore.
Why? Why was he expected to “grow up”? Why was everyone else having successful adult lives without him? Why did they choose that over staying with him and having fun every day? And why was he letting you see him cry about it? He always wanted to feel big, but now he couldn’t help but feel small, small, small.
You gently lean your head into him, quiet voice close to his ear. "You know what, baby? I'm sure a little convincing would get them all to come back." And an apology , you think, but don't say. "You're so smart, and talented, and fun to be with... they'd be crazy to stay away from you forever."
Sniffling a couple times, a few short, shaky breaths leaving him, Mark looks back up at you. His eyes are wide and wet, cheeks warm and tear-streaked, glasses fogged. His nose was even snotty. He looked, for the lack of a better word, pathetic. And you love him , love him enough to feel a pang in your chest and a sting in your eyes at the sight, making you tighten your lips to keep them from quivering.
Mark felt slightly better at your reassurance, even if it was only because he was desperate to believe it. But maybe “better” wasn’t the right word. Calmed? Soothed…?
Fuzzy. His mind felt fuzzy , and hearing your voice and feeling your hold on him was certainly influencing it. Everything felt a bit muted, like his head was underwater. "... Y-yeah ...?" He asks meekly for confirmation.
You smile at him, tilting your head as you wipe at the tears on his face with your fingers, touch so light that it was barely there. "Yeah."
Mark pouts underneath his little mustache again, sniffling back snot, and he gazes up at you like you're a light in the dark, a safe space to curl up into and hide away in. (Which, at this point, almost has you relieved- if you could be his new safe space instead of Elder Rock, maybe he could go back to living again.)
He keeps his front pressed up against yours, finally calming down and resting as you rock him, his flushed, wet cheek on your shoulder. Even if it was often to comfort him from feeling so awful, you always adored holding Mark like this, how his body and long limbs would spill over you while you cradled them. He takes a few deep breaths, heartbeat trying to slow and match your own. And with his eyes closed, he coos out a word.
"Mm... Mommy..."
You freeze up.
You can’t help but freeze up. It was so... unexpected. And obviously strange; you don’t think that you had ever even heard him say the word “Mommy” in the past year you've known him. And he sure as hell had never called you it before. It left you stiff, one hand stuck to where it stopped on his back, eyes wide in surprise. You almost didn’t believe that he had really said it.
But, for whatever reason, you didn't hate it. Not at all. In fact, it felt like someone had grabbed your heart and started squeezing it. A warm, flickering, beaming fire flowed through your veins. He must trust you so much to call you something like that, whether by accident or not, and his voice was impossibly adorable, and he was grabbing at you, burying himself into you like you were-
Like you were his mommy.
But this revelation ended quickly, as Mark soon jolted himself away from you, staring at you with wide, bleary eyes. He looks like he had snapped out of something, like he suddenly remembered that he was sitting in the dirt in front of Elder Rock, clinging onto you, crying like a toddler, despite being a full-grown adult. There's an incredibly quick moment of quiet, where everything finally registers; the birds chirping, the ground beneath your legs, the faint babbling of the nearby creek. And then his hands are on your shoulders, pushing you apart from each other.
"Ngh- ah! Get away!" Mark yelps, scrambling backward in the dirt. His brows are downturned like he's angry, eyes wide like he's scared. His cheeks might be pinker than you've ever seen them before. He seemed to be just as shocked as you were, but much less thrilled about it. "You didn't hear me say anything!"
”I- no, wait-!” You blink and shake your head to clear your mind, bringing your hands up in a “calm down” gesture. “Mark, it’s fine , it’s not like I minded at all!” In fact, that was an understatement- you liked it.
“I said I didn’t say anything !” He yells back, before messily clambering to his feet, almost tripping over his own boots. He rushes back to the entrance of the rock, looking over at you as he attempts to hide some of his flustered expression with the hood of his cloak. "Just-! Go home!"
" What?"
"You heard me!"
Furrowing your brows, you give him a truly confused look. This had escalated so quickly! Go home ? Mark never wanted you to leave, even after the dinner horn, begging you to stay as late as you could possibly tolerate. And besides that, you had just gotten done cradling him in your arms! And now he was ordering you to get out of here? Was he really that embarrassed? Was he still trying to push you away?
He moves into the silly position one had to to get into Elder Rock, crawling halfway inside, but his franticness led him to accidentally toppling forwards, falling much quicker than intended and earning a geeky squawk of surprise. You flinch as you hear him also let out an "Oof!" upon impact with the ground, hoping he didn't fall face-first into dirt for the second time today.
You quickly make your way over to the entrance as well, eyes wide and voice gentle with concern as you peek inside. "Are you okay?"
Mark stands back up at the sound of your words, his cloak cartoonishly draped over his head after the fall. He grunts out a "fine!" in response before shaking the fabric off of him, revealing how his eyes were still glaring at you behind his crooked glasses. "Now go away!" He adds again, before turning and swiftly making his way over to the blue bean bag in the back of the rock. You lower your head a little more to watch him as he sits, crossing his arms and turning away from your direction to pout.
"...Can't we talk for just a-?"
"La la la la la~! I can't hear you!" He shouts to cut you off, absolutely childish , and his arms uncross only to press his hands over his ears. What a little stinker.
Well. You suppose there's not much you can do. Mark was obviously not willing to hear you out, and was also obviously overwhelmed. As ironic as it was after that whole "I won't leave you" conversation, maybe going away and letting him cool off is just what he needed. You sigh, getting yourself halfway back up to get ready to walk away, but not before saying goodbye.
"Well, okay," you start, the "okay" coming out like a parent saying an unconvinced "if that's what you really want" to their kid. "But I'll be back tomorrow."
You almost add more, something about how this is the one time he could make you leave, how it'd take a lot more for him to really get rid of you, another reminder that you'd never "ditch him" like his other friends had. Instead, you lay off, adding a simple "I love you."
At that, you see his expression soften quietly, and you stand back up.
This was all... a lot. You were right about just how much all of this was affecting him, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And now he was back in Elder Rock, isolating himself, still just as hurt as he was when this whole thing started. And you’re sure you’ll be thinking about the “mommy” thing all night, whether you want to or not.
But rocking him like a child and whispering in his ear did seem to calm him, even if it was just for a moment. And if that’s what it takes to help him heal and move on… maybe you don’t mind the idea of him being your baby.