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It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Every curve and edge, so perfectly sculpted. He can’t help but take a closer look. What could this object be? He’s never seen anything quite like it before.
He leans closer to the object, leaning on his elbows. Truly amazed by the unknown object in front of him. Markiplier carefully leans even closer, and gently sniffs the bright yellow thing.
Whoa.
Such an amazing smell can only come from… Some kind of fruit?
Whatever it is, must be very special. Markiplier thinks to himself.
Does he dare touch it?
He uncertainly reaches out with both hands, but stops midway. Can he really? Does he have the balls to actually touch such a majestic thing?
But after a few moments of thinking, Markiplier decides that yes, he does have the balls to touch the magic fruit. So he does.
Whoa.
That’s the most amazing thing he’s ever felt. He can almost feel the sparks when he touches the smooth, bright yellow, skin. They must have been meant for each other. There’s no other explanation.
Markiplier, amazed by his newfound bond with this mysterious object, sinks down onto his arms and gazes, dreamily at the fruit. It’s such a beautiful moment, he thinks to himself, getting emotional.
They sit like that for a minute or so, just gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, souls, peels? Before Markiplier decides that it’s time to make a move. He can’t just sit and let this opportunity slip by. He can’t just leave his one, true soulmate when this is over. He needs to do something.
He reaches out, and touches the object again, soothingly stroking its weird, antenna-like end.
Yes. This feels right.
He smiles at the object.
It’s now or never. He just needs to take a moment to gather up the courage to say something.
The Markiplier nods to himself approvingly. He can do this. He’s confident enough to do this. They share such a special bond. It would be weird for him not to do anything.
Once again, Markiplier reaches his hands out, carefully placing his fingers under the fruit to provide support, and gently lifts it up.
Whoa.
He studies it even closer. It’s so beautiful. He needs a moment to process he’s actually holding this wonderful object in his hands.
He swallows. Sweat beading on his forehead. It’s now or never.
“Can… May I… Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Markiplier asks shyly.
“…” answers the smooth, yellow fruit.
And so he slowly brings the object closer, until its soft peel meets his slightly dryer lips, and they share a passionate kiss.
Markiplier can’t believe how right this feels.
Consumed by emotion and passion, he deepens the kiss, which is getting needier by the second.
Markiplier’s tongue dances across the smooth, slightly toxic-tasting skin of the fruit. But it only draws him in further.
He pulls away for a second.
“Should we take this to the bedroom?” he asks, breathing heavily.
“…” the object responds.
Markiplier smiles to himself, reaching down to remove his shirt, completely forgetting to leave the kitchen.
Once all clothing is disposed of, he turns back to the fruit.
“Oh, how disrespectful of me to forget you!” he exclaims, and picks it up.
Fiddling with the peel, he realizes this might become harder than he thought. Markiplier tries once again to break the only thing that is keeping them from sealing the bond. But to no avail.
“Let me just go get a knife, and we’ll get you right out of that uncomfortable… Shield.”
Markiplier leaves the room to go look for a knife, which ironically, he does not keep in the kitchen. That would be madness. Somebody could use them to cut some innocent vegetables or butcher some poor, dead animal. No, the knives, he keeps under his mattress in his bed.
He grabs the sharpest, shiniest knife he can find. It turns him on the most. And starts heading back to the kitchen.
But he stops dead in his tracks when walking through the door. In his kitchen, a very familiar, green-haired man is stood with his back turned to Markiplier, looking out the window. And in his hand, he’s holding an even more familiar oblong, yellow object. Only now, it’s been… Peeled.
Markiplier gapes at the scene in front of him, tears forming in his eyes. At the same moment, the man in front of him turns around.
“Oh Hey, Mark-whoa!…. Why are you naked?!” The Irishman stares confusedly at the, now crying, naked, man in front of him, that happens to be Markiplier.
“I… You… The thing… You ate it,” Markiplier stutters out, completely crushed by what’s happening in front of him.
“Uh… The banana?”
The green haired man furrows his brows and looks weirdly at Markiplier, who nods.
“I am still eating it…” he says, and takes a bite out of the delicious, creamy, fruit, that was once the love of Markiplier’s life.