Chapter Text
It was starting to become routine.
You'd sit there, your legs curled up to your chest, head laying on your knees, mindlessly flipping through the channels on the TV. Your right hand lightly pushed the up arrow on the remote, your left limp at your side. Your breath slowly slid out of your mouth, and you inhaled sharply through your nose as the noise increased from the the other room. A large bang, then muffled screaming. It was the usual, where even the sound proof room couldn't fully contain the explosive rage. Your nerves settled a bit from the scare, the noises turning back into the background as they did every night. The loudness didn't bother you anymore; you were sure you had gone partly deaf years ago.
The blue colors of the wall were deepening as the sun was settling down for the night, the TV light casting longer shadows over you. The cream of the couch blended into the gray of the dimmer light, while you traced nonsense patterns on the microfiber. The only unsure part of the night was just how long he'd be in there, how many videos he'd force himself to make. Lately he’d been making more and more, but his channel wasn't noticing any difference in content two videos still uploaded everyday. Your back was beginning to hurt, so you laid back, the TV light partly blinding you for a moment before you switched to yet another channel. There wasn't anything on that you really wanted to watch, nothing of merit to distance yourself from you thoughts. You didn't feel like getting up and doing any hobbies, didn't feel like sleeping. You were stuck in between, wanting to do something, but unable to. Your feet brushed against the coffee table and you slipped your feet into the lower opening.
The top of the table was littered with the remains of your dinner, which you ate by yourself and the latest book you had since abandoned. It really was interesting and normally would have easily captured your attention for hours. Only tonight, you had a different plan – a surprise. You had been reading it, skimming through the pages and stealing glances at the clock, counting down the minutes. Until the door handle jingled, a rush of hot air into the house and the sound of keys hitting the end table woke you out of your stupor. You sat bolt upright, rushing and almost tripping to reach the hallway, swinging around the corner, watching him turn to close the door. Your smile faltered at the expression on his face.
It was the same look he always had these days whenever he came home, a grim set to his lips and he wouldn't look at you in the eyes. His eyes skittered around the room, over you, like he wasn't expecting you to be standing there. Your hope bounced back as he approached you, his shirt brushing lightly against you as he leaned down.
Even when he dropped a swift kiss on your forehead, the passion wasn't there, the action habitual.
You tried to follow him as he toed his shoes off, rubbing the back of his neck as you chattered nervously, explaining that the surprise was cooking him dinner. You had the two seats spread out with his favorite. Yet he brushed it off, waving to you and explaining he had to get two more videos up for tomorrow. You shut your mouth with a snap. You knew he had recorded enough videos to last him into next month. Silently, you nodded your head. Not that he saw while he retreated into the room, closing the door. You heard the now familiar noise of the lock sliding into place, your eyes burning from unshed tears when you wiped at them furiously.
No. You weren't going to cry. Not again.
Eating in silence, you sat down on the couch, ending up in the position you were now in. The leftovers were surely going stale in their pots, but your interest in putting away the spaghetti was minimal. It wasn't like he would eat the leftovers. They would just sit in the fridge until you brought them for lunch or grew fuzzy with mold. He was always eating out now. Once in awhile, you would smell him cooking late into the night as you curled up into your pillow on the cold bed, willing yourself not to cry at the fact that your food was right there. At first, it had been hard, the tears flowing hot down your cheeks, every day trying your best but getting nowhere. But after a while, after it had become normal for you. Your heart had become hardened, your fingers clenching into fists against it. You did, however, wander in there to blow out the candles, lest they started a fire in a house you didn't own.
You felt the same urge to cry again even as you tried to distance yourself from it now, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. You needed to get up, you needed to clean the kitchen and put away the food. But you knew if you looked at that food right now, it would cause the floodgates to open. You had tried so hard, seasoning it exactly as he had taught you, years ago now. Your thoughts stopped in their tracks for a moment as you dug deeper into the past.
When was it? When was the last time you had sat down for a meal with him? When had you last gone on a date? When had you heard him say he loved you for the last time?
You took a deep breath, trying to breathe through the pain in your chest, lifting your arm to rub away the feeling. It didn't work. You even knew it wouldn't. Your heart still ached. Still deeply in love with him, it felt like there was nothing you could do. It wasn’t like he had done anything specifically horrible to break up. He hadn't cheated, hadn't beat you. It was just as if he had lost interest completely. You didn't know if that made it hurt worse...
Trying to get him to talk about it was impossible. He insisted nothing was wrong, and after every insistence of yours, he would pay attention again. Your heart would swell, hoping that it would last this time.
But it never did. It never lasted more than a few days.
The nights would become longer again, the bed growing colder and colder, as your texts were ignored again. The rest of his life wasn't suffering. His channel was hitting the twenty million mark now. The problem just seemed to be you. Had he grown tired of you? You hadn't changed…had you? Had he?
The questions were swirling around in your mind when the door to the studio opened a crack. It had a very distinctive whine when it was eased open, yet you stalled. Before, you would have jumped up at the chance, making your way to the door with a smile on your face just to gauge his mood, seeing if just maybe he needed a release of all that anger. It would almost always end in a sweaty pile, exhaustion mixing between you both. But considering you hadn't done anything but sleep in the same bed for more than three months now, you didn't move. Small sounds of shuffling and then silence, you held your breath, pretty sure he could still see you, even slumped on the couch. Your heart started to hammer in your chest, the hope eating at you, even though you know you shouldn't.
The silence reigned longer and you grew confused. Was he just standing there? Sitting up slowly, you turned towards the door to the recording studio to see-
Nothing.
The door was still slightly ajar but there was no one there, and you suddenly heard the slight jangle of keys at the front door. The sound of the door closing made you sit up further, the slam of a car door making you race to the window, slightly pulling back the curtain. Headlights partly lit up the room as the engine revved to life, the car slowly pulling out of the driveway. You watched it go, the hopelessness creeping up along your back, over your shoulders, and settling deep into your chest. You couldn't stop the tears from spilling out of your eyes, lower lip trembling like a child. He had to have seen you...
Maybe he thought you were asleep...?
Your voice betrayed you then, whispering out the name of the man you wanted so much, but who didn't seem to want you.
"Mark..."
Sniffling, you pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to block out the feelings creeping deeper into your heart. Retreating back to the couch, your shin bumped the coffee table, a hiss erupting from your mouth. You grabbed the offended leg, limping over to the couch. Staring down at it, the bruise started to form slowly, quickly be obscured by the tears gathering in your eyes. You returned to the knees up position, allowing yourself just one more night of emotion.
Only one more night, right?