Each day, I feel the dark grip my shoulders as I wake. It sits me up, leads me downstairs to the kitchen, and uses my hands to make me a bowl of cereal, or fry an egg, or whatever it happens to be in the mood for. It isn't me, because I'm off in my own mind, frolicking through fields of love and joy with Mark. I'm off, wishing, wondering, thinking... And the days pass in blurry hazes. I record, upload, and respond to viewers before I go to sleep and reset the cycle.

I mention Mark and I's public coming out in my Pax vlog, but it only deepens my need to be around him. I feel like a ghost, detached from reality. Social media is a maze of hate and love- but the hate is what stands out the most. I know it was bound to happen, because some people watch me for no other reason besides the games I play. To them, I'm not a person, I'm nothing more than an entertainer.

I get the usual hate tweets and comments, an occasional anon on Tumblr, but what really hammers home just how much of a mistake we'd made is the emails. Countless emails from parents, telling me how their son or daughter is no longer allowed to watch my videos because I might have some influence on their sexuality. I don't tell Mark about these when we do manage to Skype, or about how much they tear me apart every night. He doesn't need to know that my eyes are bloodshot from crying- not shouting, which is what I tell him. He doesn't need to know that whenever I lose myself in thought, I'm imagining my life without him. He doesn't need to know that my throat closes up at the very thought of his name... But at the same time, I need him to know. It'd be different if Mark was a woman. I know full well it would- because of  'Zalfie' or whatever their ship name is... And when I had a girlfriend, I didn't get scornful emails that shamed me for my sexuality. It's all because Mark and I are both men that parents are starting to get concerned over my influence. Who I fall in love with shouldn't matter- what I do hasn't changed. I'm still me. I still promote the same values. I'm still Jacksepticeye, no matter how many people would rather I wasn't.

Mark and I haven't Skyped in two weeks, and I'm not making an effort to because I don't really see a point. When we Skype, it's always the same. I say hi, he says hi. We talk about our day, our plans for the next day, and talk about how much we miss each other. Then something comes up and he has to go, or he gets tired, or his friends are calling... And I'm left alone.

I'm just so tired of the same old pattern. I want to spice it up- but I'm not really sure how. There's still seven months until Pax East... Seven months I don't know how to handle.

"We should Skype sometime." The text from Mark remains unread as I know he's busy with other, more important things, and that I shouldn't be selfish and take up his time.

"You should come over for dinner this Friday." The voicemail from my mother burns in the back of my mind.

"SOOO happy Septiplier is official now, my life is complete."

"Is Mark moving to Ireland or are you moving to LA?"

"Still curious as to who's bottom."

"Proud of you for coming out, finally. I always knew you were crushing on Mark."

The asks/comments from my ever-so-faithful followers go unanswered as I sit on my living room floor, tears streaming down my face. What more do they want from me? I've given my life, my privacy, my heart and my mind. My whole being has gone into this career path- this lifestyle, and I'm not willing to give it up.

I lean against the wall, keeping my knees against me, and bury my chin in my chest so my cheeks just barely touch my thighs. My breath comes shallow and my heart pounds heavy like rain against my t-shirt. 'Get out, get out, get out,' my mind begs, but I have nowhere to go. I'm forced to deal with this.

Sniffing and wiping my tears on my sleeve, I stand. Might as well repeat the ritual for old time's sake.

"H- hey," he answers my Skype call. His eyes are drawn to mine, though he likely won't notice my drying tears and blotchy cheeks.

"You doing okay?" I smile weakly, wishing I could reach out and touch his face.

"Not exactly, but I'm... I'm alright." He exhales, and though he tries to hide it with a small cough, I can see his lip tremble.

"What happened?" I find myself whispering, though there's no need for it.

He hesitates, "I was just heading downstairs to get something to eat... And I was really exhausted. I haven't been sleeping well, because I... I can't stop thinking about how awful I was to you at PAX."

Oh, this is a new topic. We haven't discussed this yet. Maybe we've hinted at it, but never more than just in passing.

"Mark-" I start to protest, but he cuts me off.

"Don't try and argue with me, I was being a dick and you know it. I'm really sorry, by the way."

"You've got nothing t'be sorry for," I sigh.

"I shouldn't have brought up moving, you lived there your whole life. I was being selfish." He clears his throat while I sit in my own silence, letting my thoughts bubble toward my lips. I hold them back though, for speaking my mind is a dangerous thing now. With a slight impatient tone, he continues, "but, as I was saying, I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn't really... Keep my eyes open and... I ended up on the floor."

"What?!" I yelp, practically jumping up out of my chair. "What happened?"

"I missed the first stair," he says sheepishly, as if expecting me to lash out. "And narrowly avoided breaking my neck."

My heart stops and I can feel my tongue, pressed against the back of my mouth, blocking my airways. He said it so matter of factly, as if it were a casual occurrence and not a potentially life shattering moment. He could have been hurt! He could be in the hospital right now, but... He's not. By some miracle he's safe. He's safe and I can't hold him in my arms.

I don't say anything, so he gestures at his body, "I'm fine! Unscratched, Jack. I promise. I'll just move on from it."

Some might nod. Some might sigh and let the worry leak from their heart onto their words, but not me. His hand is shaking to the point that it becomes blurred, though that could just be my threatening tears. "No," I huff finally.

"No?"

"No, Mark. No. You're not fine, obviously. You're shaking and you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

He slowly drops his hand from view and takes off his glasses with the other, rubbing his eyes. "I miss you," he whispers.

"I miss you as well. So I'm not going to let you be miserable... What do I need to do?"

He hesitates. I can tell what he's thinking, but he won't say it. Not after I stormed out of the hotel room. "I... Don't know."

"Yes you do," I press. "So... Give me some time to think," I swallow, not sure if I can keep the promise I'm about to make, "but whether it's for a visit or forever, I'm coming to stay with you in... Four months." I scratch my neck, hoping, no, praying, that I can make this happen, for him. "We can make it that long, right?"

His eyes light up, "of course! Oh, Jack, take your time! I don't want to rush you but- I just... I'm so excited."

"I can tell," I smile warmly at him.

Immediately after ending the call, I take inventory of everything I own, and call my landlord. It's about time I got out of the rain.

That night, I pack a few things, just to occupy my mind, but it doesn't work. I miss him. I miss everything about him. I miss the way his hair tangles and frizzes wildly at some point between him falling asleep and waking up. I miss feeling his heart beat against my cheek when I rest my head on his chest. I miss listening to his breathing while we cuddle, kiss, or do other things... I miss his hands, his shoulders, his square jaw... I miss his eyes, and how they move up and down my body with irresistibly glowing passion.

Weeks pass, and nothing really changes. I'm still unhappy, and in spite of my unhappiness, I've started packing; most of my dishes are wrapped in newspaper and placed strategically in boxes in my living room. I still have over three months to decide if I'm visiting or moving, but fuck it anyway. My nights are restless and my days are long. Too long. The sun, what little I see of it, mocks me continuously. Mark sees the sun everyday. He smiles at it while watching it rise, he lets it warm him as he moves about his large, empty apartment. I can't take much more of this, and it's only been a short time. I miss his voice too- and while it is only a Skype call away, I can't bring myself to call him again. That is, until my family comes by and practically forces me to.

They're due for a visit any day now. Since I told Ma that I'm dating Mark, she's been begging to come see me. I asked her to bring the whole family, because it might be the last time for a long while that we'd all be together. She was mildly upset at first- but my oldest brother lives in France, so she's used to long distance children.

As time drags, my belongings are nearly packed, and I'm hardly able to restrain myself from hopping on a plane at five in the morning after a couple hours of restless sleep. I told him four months, damn it. This is one of the biggest decisions I'm ever going to make, I can't rush into it just because I miss his arms around me...

"Your half-packed already!" My eldest sister cries as I lead all six adults to my living room.

"You said four months, Jack," my mother mumbles incredulously. "What's all this? You still have a month and a half before you go."

"I might be leaving sooner than I thought," I shrug and quickly change the subject. "It's good to see you all again." I hug everyone individually, saving my father for last. There's something in his eyes that tells me to tread lightly.

"About this guy," he says, his hands clamped on my shoulders.

"Oh, not now- you promised you wouldn't-" my sister speaks up again.

"Just a minute, I'm talking to Sean." He looks back at me. "Is he really what you want?"

"Who- Mark?" I stall. "Of course he is."

"I mean- you never once mentioned any sort of... Interest... In guys at all, and I guess... What I'm trying to say is... I hope you're making the right choice."

"I never mentioned it because I didn't think it was necessary... I had a girlfriend anyway. I kind of just... Forgot to mention my sexuality over the years as well, because I never noticed any guy that peaked my interest... but Mark isn't like any other person I've met- he," I let out a breathy sigh, "he's my best friend."

Seemingly satisfied, my father hugs me again, patting my back. "I can't wait to meet him."

"Skype!" My mother says suddenly. "That's how you said you've talked to him before. We could Skype him."

"I don't know, guys-"

"I want to meet who your leaving the country for," my father insists with a playful smile. "He must be pretty damn special."

"Well, we could try..." I hesitate, glancing at my phone. "It's about seven in the mornin' where he's at." I send him a text, simply saying that I'd be Skyping him in a few minutes.

We all pile into my recording room, having grabbed kitchen chairs for my parents, and sit in front of my computer. My siblings look around, clearly judging the mattresses stacked against the walls- but it's not like they don't know why I have them. Breathing deeply, I wait for my parents to get situated before I log into Skype. I turn around to look at the faces of my siblings. I feel so small somehow, and not just because I'm the youngest. Are they judging me? Do they think differently of me? Frowning, I take another slow, deep breath and turn back to my computer, clicking 'call' before I can talk myself out of it.

He answers with a bright smile and messy hair. He's clothed, thankfully. Well, at least he has a shirt on. "Hey, Jack! I..." He notices my parents and trails off slowly, "... just woke up and... wasn't expecting..."

"Mark," I smile to hide my building terror, "sorry I didn't give much of a warning- but these are my parents."

"Much of a warning?" He chokes, sitting back in is chair. "You didn't give me any. I would have combed my hair, I would have shaved-"

"It's okay," my dad interrupts him. "I didn't shave either."

~~~~~~~~~~

As awkward as him meeting my family could have gone, it was fairly normal. They talked about how Mark and I met, and then how we became more than friends (leaving out a few... choice details). All in all, I'd say it went great. Same for my siblings. Everyone fell for his charm and wit, similar to how he'd drawn me in ages back. When it came time for him to go, I promised I'd talk to him later. But I never did.

We haven't Skyped since my family visited last month, and our texts are infrequent. Whenever I go to message him, my fingertips grow cold and my joints lock up. I tell myself that I'll answer if he prompts a conversation... But I don't. I sit there, staring at his messages and wondering how the hell I got to that point. Mark is amazing, I'm lucky to have him, and here I am ignoring his texts. What kind of boyfriend does that sort of thing? Why can't I reply? He just wants to know how I'm doing, but I don't know what to tell him without making him sad. When I do manage to reply, I keep it vague, and ask about how he's doing to change the subject. Thankfully, he doesn't notice. Either that or he just won't mention it.

My things are pretty much all packed and all legalities are taken care of. All I have to do now is get my ticket and go. But something's stopping me. It's not my family, we've come to terms and promised visits on holidays and such. It's not my heritage- I'm still gonna be an Irish brute no matter what country I live in. I'm not sure what it is precisely. I'm still shocked that I managed to pack or sell everything I own in less than two months' time. Especially when I'd told Mark I wouldn't be coming for another few months. He's not expecting me for a while yet. Why did I get everything in order so promptly? Why did I go out of my way to make everything ready at a moment's notice, when I still have weeks to prepare? I ask myself those questions every night, though I already know the answer.

I'm rushing things because I can't take it. I- of all people- can't take this distance. I have to see him, before my shell hardens and it becomes impossible for anyone to get through. I need Mark to break me out of my chrysalis. I can't bring myself to Skype him because I'd burst into tears within seconds. Hearing his voice, seeing his face... It makes me weak, like an addict with cocaine in a translucent, bulletproof box. Mark is inaccessible; as much as he tries to be the opposite, he seems to become more and more unreachable with every wasted hour I spend thinking of him. I'm just torturing myself, spending day after day rereading our conversations. I don't know what to do- or why I'm acting like this. I've been in long distance relationships before- I handled them expertly. But this... This distance is so much more than physical. Mentally, I'm drowning. I'm drowning in my own, pitiful thoughts.

What if he cheats? What if he breaks it off? What if I, being the coward that I am, break it off myself? What if I get to LA and we fight again? Where will I go? Felix won't be there to coddle me. Why am I still thinking about this?! I know it's inevitable! No matter what anyone says, you can't change fate.

Anger surges through me when my phone buzzes. I see it's a text from Mark and I ignore it. How easy it would be to just... Stop talking to him. To unpack my things and inform the world that even though the world was apparently ready and waiting for Mark and I with open arms, Mark and I weren't ready for the world. The world is a cruel, cold place that has no room for two very passionate forces of people working and living together.

But I couldn't do that. I couldn't forget Mark if my life depended on it.

I grab my phone to search for a one-way ticket, but then a new text arrives from him.

"Do you even want to talk to me at all?" Of course. Of course I do, Mark. But I don't answer. I don't know why. I just can't.

~~~~~~~~~~

The flights are way longer than I expected. It feels like days, rather than hours. I wish I could sleep, but all this worry is piling up on me. I didn't tell Mark I was coming, which seems like an awful idea now that I look back on it- but maybe he'll see it as romantic. Oh, romance. Something that's been lacking as of late.

Before I can think of an explanation, the plane is landing. I'd managed to sell or give away a great deal of my things, and the rest will be shipped later, but I did bring four suitcases. Four, huge things that I have to look for and carry. A small twinge of panic and guilt rest in my gut when I realize that I don't know Mark's address, or even what street he lives on. He's completely oblivious to my whereabouts...

Taking a large breath, I sit in a chair, rest my elbows on my knees and rub my eyes. I just have to get things sorted out, that's all. Maybe I could call up a hotel and let them know I'm on my way, and later I could call Mark... And just... Explain to him that I... I was so lost. No, no. I ignored him- he's probably pissed. He's probably already moved on, I mean, who would blame him, really?

I don't know what provokes me to, but I approach a pay phone and dial his number.

"Hey," I start quietly.

"Jack? What the hell is-"

"I'm at the airport. Can you come get me?" I sniff, and wipe away any tears that slipped through my harsh glare.

"Come... Come get you?! Jack! I..." He goes quiet, and I hear shuffling, then a door slamming. "I'm on my way, okay? Are... Are you okay?" I don't know what to say, so I just keep quiet. "You're not, are you?" He sighs. "Well," an engine starts in the background. "I'm on my way."

~~~~~~~~~~

My heart drops when I see him, a wild expression on his face as he searches for me. He's still in his pajamas, with a beanie over his messy hair. Before I can stop myself, I'm running to him. He huffs softly when our chests collide, but his arms pull me closer anyway. "What the hell is going on?" He asks after a moment. I look into his eyes and let it all out. The loneliness, the cycle, the confusion... And his arms drop to his sides. We move toward the wall to stay out of the way, and he scratches his chin as I spew my thoughts in run-on sentences. When I slow, he grabs my hand, and looks at his feet. "I didn't know... You never said anything, I... I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be sorry," I mumble, suddenly hyper aware of everyone staring. "Just... Don't be mad."

"Why would I be mad?" His brows furrow in the cutest way, and I have to remind myself to breathe. I curl in against his chest, my hands on his shoulders.

"Because I... I'm..." I whisper into his shirt. "We're gay, right? Isn't that... Wrong? Not to us, or like... I mean... It's not wrong, but to some it is and-"

"Jack," he interrupts me, shoving me back so our eyes meet again, "if loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right!"

I grip his shoulder harder, tears making my knees weak. "What if we aren't meant to-"

"Don't you say such a thing," he gasps, though his tone is firm. I say nothing, only press closer to him. He leads me to the emptiest row of chairs, which still has about seven people in it, and leans me against him. "It's not 1950 anymore," he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing against my hair as he tries to calm me down. And after ten minutes of soft caresses and gentle whispers, I finally find the strength to grab him and pull his face to mine. He's frozen only a moment, but then he melts along with my heart.