|4|

     Since high school, Mark's friend group had always been the four amigos: Felix Kjellberg, Mark Fischbach, Wade Barnes and Bob Muyskens. Once Bob got engaged, the dynamic changed and it became a trio. However, it was news to Mark that they'd soon be a duo.

“You’re going to Los Angeles?” Bob asked.

Wade shrugged, his lips still wrapped around his smoothie straw. The four friends had met up at their favorite restaurant — originally they would come every Friday and hang out, then game. Then, when they hit college, it was an occasional thing. The cushioned seats, the back window, the poorly made pancakes and sugary milkshakes. It was all a tradition. As a senior in high school, Felix was added to their group, and from then on it was Mark who sat with Felix. The two looked at each other.

“That’s far from Ohio, though,” Mark replied. “What's the deal?”

Felix nodded. “Yeah.”

Wade sat up and grinned, pulling something out of his pocket. He slammed it on the table and then crossed his arms. The three friends all leaned forward to look, and all gasped. In bold print the letter said, “ACCEPTANCE LETTER UNIVERSITY OF CALI.”

Felix and Mark looked at one another, eyebrows raised.

“Isn’t that kind of far from your family?” Mark asked, pulling the letter close.

“Well yeah,” Wade said. “But it's a great opportunity. It's my dream. And I'll be back.”

As if on cue, a pitter patter sound touched the window of the restaurant. All four of the friends turned — it was raining. How delightful. Felix asked Wade what he would be doing while Mark continued to stare out the window, dark thoughts swirling like the eye of a tornado. He imagined for a moment he was the clouds. Angry and frustrated, forcing out all his feelings into a great storm that tore apart the city. He saw himself blowing wind that splintered trees and pushed cars.

Wade was leaving. What would he do? Who would tell dumb jokes with him and bring pizza to his house? Who would sneak gin upstairs like they did in high school and tell stories about Bob from childhood?

No one.

Mark stood up.

“It’s good that you're leaving,” he said suddenly. “I’ve got to go.”

Wade grabbed his arm before he could turn. They stared at one another, brown on brown. Mark ripped his arm out of Wade’s grip.

“Don’t do this, Mark.”

“Too late,” Mark growled, storming out of the booth and then the diner.

Rain began to pour on his head, soaking his hair and dripping down his glasses. As he walked past the diner window he heard the three talking.

“. . . Hasn't been the same since his dad . . .”

“Yeah, he's changed.”

“. . . Guys stop.”

And that was that.

   Mark walked alone. His thoughts lingered on the letter, sealing his friendships’ fate with Wade — one of his best friends since high school. One of the guys who kept him up while his father's death drowned him. It was still early in the afternoon, but all he could think to do was sleep. No work. No friends to hang with. No school. No family. And the rain.

His sneakers beat against the worn sidewalks of Cincinnati, squeaking every so often from the damp concrete. Mark glanced up at the sky, noting the the shabby clouds. It was neither bright nor dark. A mediocre kind of day that only furthered his crippling self depreciation. His pocket buzzed. It was only a text from his brother, asking if he was alright. Mark ignored it and continued walking home.

More water dripped down his face so he lifted his hoodie.

“Damn it! Damn it all to  hell!”

Mark jumped, startled as he heard more muttered curses. He looked around but the only things around were “Juan’s Taco Truck” and a stray cat. Curious, the black haired man peaked over into the truck and saw the back of a guy. He was wearing a uniform and a hat. He probably worked there.

“Fuck,” the guy said, louder. “Of all days!”

The employee turned around and Mark froze as he noticed who it was. Jack! The artist from the art festival.

Jack gasped. “Aye! Mark, how ya doing?”

“Hey, hh, hi,” Mark replied. “Are you alright?”

The green haired man rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, you heard that?”

Mark smiled.

“It’s just that the rain picked up right as my shift ended and I gotta walk home in it. I haven't gotten a car yet, so I'm kinda stuck, yeh know?”

“Well that sucks.”

The conversation went back and forth as such, until Jack hung up his apron and stepped out of the truck with another taco in his hand. The Irishman looked fatigued with some sweat beads streaming down his neck, dampening his shirt collar. Mark handed the green haired man a napkin and sat himself down on the concrete sidewalk. Jack follow suit and took a large bite into his beefy paradise. They didn't care it was wet.

“Man, I sure see you everywhere,” Mark muttered through a bite. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were stalking me.”

“Ah bogus,” Jack laughed. “It’s a coinkydink.”

Mark shrugged. He enjoyed the company for a moment. Why he kept running into the greenie was unclear, but maybe Jack could be a new friend? Or not.

“Hey,” Mark murmured. “My apartment is a couple blocks from here. If you want, you can chill until the rain dies out.”

Jack grinned. “That’d be great.”

The two were silent as they finished their fatty meals. Once Mark finished he stood up and dusted off his pants. He shrugged his hoodie back on, looking at the green haired fellow peculiarly. After a minute of this, he finally sighed and held his hand out to Jack. He took it and hauled himself up using Mark's arm, slamming into the latter chest.

“Jeez, you alright?” Mark asked. He pulled back his hood, hands still clasped around each other.

Jack bit his lower lip and pulled back. “Sorry,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I weight a lot less than you.”

Mark merely laughed it off and pointed towards his street.

“So, Irishman, do you game?”

—

    “So, you suck at Mario Kart,” Mark commented, peeking over his friend's shoulder to see his placement. Jack hadn't even made it to sixth place.

“I only fuckin’ suck ‘cause you're breathing in my ear.”

Mark rolled his eyes, blowing a huge breath into the Irishman's ear, before lounging on the couch beside him. He flinched but continued to drive his virtual card straight to victory. Neither had enough energy to celebrate however. They had played video games for hours, going from horror to classics and even first person shooter. They were both pretty good, but Mark was definitely the more clever one and paid more attention to details. Repetition was Jack's forte.

“Hey don’t —”

The lights cut out. Mark screamed, dropping his controller to the ground. There was some movement before Jack's phone gave off a soft glow. From this angle Mark could see the slightest outline of his couch, old and worn from years of use. Jack also showed, his baby blues seemingly smiling back. Amused. Amiable.

Jack frowned, leaning closer to his friend. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Mark sighed. “I think the power went out. Probably the storm.”

“Do you have any flashlights?”

“Just candles.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s the 21st century but okay. Where are they?”

Mark just stood up. Jack followed suit, until Mark took a step forward and tripped. His foot slipped on his controller, knees slamming into the hardwood floor. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Fuck!”

“Mark, are you alright?”

Jack leaned down to help up Mark, but instead their noses bumped quite painfully. They both cried out, grabbing their noses. Mark reassured Jack he was okay and grabbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Jack followed silently. They used the minimal light from their phones to illuminate their paths - unfortunately they still tripped over one another.

Mark reached a door and paused, pressing his fingers harder into Jack’s wrist.

“What you’re about to see, you can’t tell anyone. Got it?”

Jack swallowed his spit and nodded.

End |4|

—
sorry it's taken so long. What do you think? Was it worth the wait? Been so busy with high school!

Thanks so much for sticking with me