forever
Title: Forever
Fandom: GOT7
Pairing: Markson (or never)
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 3012
Warnings: (SPOILERS) vague allusions to possible character death
Summary: Mark is just where Jackson left him seven months ago, still staring out at the sea they once traversed together, and Jackson feels every step closer to the man he still loves as a stab to the heart.
AN: of course the first GOT7 fic I post is a drunk fic. At least this one is... Somewhat readable? yo i need to stop drunk fics
Anyway, have some vague pirate!au Markson. Is there a pirate!au for GOT7 out there? If so pls tell me so I don't have to write one myself
Also: no I don't give a shit about titles, soz
Mark is right where Jackson left him, high upon the cliff above the crashing waves and staring out at the cascading hues of red, orange, and yellow across the sky and where they blend into the sea. Mark’s familiar features look unchanged, barely worn by time and wind and seasalt in the air, still beautiful, still enchanting. It’s as if the last seven months never happened. As if he wasn’t left behind while Jackson was out there, sailing under the flag they once swore fealty to together, plundering, drinking, fighting like the right pirate he is.
While Mark was all alone on this lonely island.
He doesn’t accuse Jackson though, no, he never would. He couldn’t.
Jackson knows this.
It doesn’t make the trek from the beach and up the hill to Mark’s resting spot any easier. Jaebum, Jinyoung and the kids offered to come with him, said they wanted to see Mark as well, but Jackson asked them to stay on the ship. It is selfish, he knows, but every step is a stab to his lungs, heart, throat, head, reminding him of the painful choice he made, the sacrifices he had to endure, and he allows himself this little trinket of relief. Each step brings another memory of the day he turned his back to Mark and walked down this very cliff. It was easily the worst day of Jackson’s life.
He just wants to see Mark again, just for a little while, even if it isn’t going to change anything.
He will still have to leave him here at the end of the day, go back to the sea and a vagrant life that isn’t nearly as fun without Mark there by his side.
It’s a nauseating thought.
He sees Mark’s back, almost too soon, and even though Jackson has been waiting for this moment for seven months, he falters, hesitant, almost uncertain in his approach. Suddenly everything he thought about, everything he wanted to say feels inconsequential. He wonders what he is doing here at all, because even the silhouette of the man he loves is enough to blur his eyes and send a tremor through his knees.
Mark deserves so much more.
Jackson drags a hand over his face and sighs to himself. This isn’t okay. Not at all.
But at least he is here now, and he will kick himself overboard tomorrow if he doesn’t use his time well. He isn’t the only one suffering.
The final few steps are the heaviest, but also the quickest, and Jackson tries to shake off any sign of his anxiety as he steps up next to Mark.
They stand together in silence for a second, gazing out at the neverending water and the seagulls and the shadow of a ship they both know as well as their own nose. The sky is mirrored on the rippled surface, not a perfect replication, but still enough to paint a lifelike image of the motive it imitates. It’s a beautiful evening, for what it’s worth, but neither of them are able to appreciate it. Not quite. Jackson glances over and sees the warm glow play on Mark’s smooth skin, making his face come alive with a certain warmth Jackson only sees in memory now.
The sight almost makes him happy.
But it’s still not… It’s not quite right.
Jackson tears his eyes away and focuses on the blurred horizon instead.
“Hi, Mark,” he says quietly, after minutes of stillness and quiet and it’s almost absurd in it’s mundanity. It works, because Mark doesn’t say anything back.
“I missed you,” Jackson continues, still subdued, so unlike his usual vigour and audacity. Not that his voice has held much power lately. It just doesn’t work anymore, not when he doesn’t have to be a counterpart to Mark’s shy softness. He’s shouting at something that isn’t there, and reaching out to imaginary arms that don’t search for his. It’s confusing, disturbing, and makes Jackson feel uncomfortable in the skin he has worn for sixteen years.
“I mean, they all missed you,” he says, almost quickly (but what is the point?) and reiterates the point. “But seven months without you and I… I don’t think we’ve been apart for that long since we met.”
He smiles then, a sad, little, broken smile, far from Jackson’s usual toothy grins.
“Not even that one time you hid away on a Marine ship and they sailed away with you as a blind passenger.” He snorts a little. Mark doesn’t say anything. “Man, those were good times. How long was it, a couple of weeks? Three? And you were crying so hard when they tossed you out on the docks the day they returned. Couldn’t make you stop for hours, but you sure had some great stories when you did.”
Mark isn’t looking at him, isn’t moving an inch, and Jackson continues.
“Yeah, I was really lonely without you back then,” he nods, mostly to himself. “It’s always been me and you, you know? What am I doing out there without you?”
He pauses. Swallows.
Mark is silent.
Jackson wants to cry.
“The others miss you too,” he says, almost as a distraction. A brief reprieve from his breaking sanity, the tightrope he is walking between grief and anger and regret. He doesn’t know what to do with all of it, except to push it away. It doesn’t quite work - otherwise he wouldn’t be here.
Otherwise he would have tried to forget Mark.
Jackson could never forget Mark.
“The kids are getting along fine,” he says, because Mark always cared about the kids. Even if they’re not children anymore, strictly speaking, they will always be ‘the kids’ to Jackson and Mark. “Bambam wasn’t dealing too well in the beginning, but he’s banged his head against the mast a couple of times and told himself to man up, so he did. Youngjae is taking up some of your duties, well, he and Jinyoung are splitting, mostly - “
There is an unspoken agreement that they are not going to hire a replacement for Mark, even if it would make their jobs so much easier, the running of the ship so much smoother. They might have to, but no one has pushed the notion so far.
Jackson doesn’t want to face the possibility, ever.
No one can replace Mark.
“ - but Youngjae’s getting so good with the gun, it’s almost scary, I tell you. Not quite like your glory days, but better than most guys I’ve ever seen. So a few weeks ago, Bambam was trying to chase off a seagull at the rear, and Youngjae just straight up shot it, right next to Bambam’s head, and you should’ve seen the fuss he kicked up, it was great.”
He chuckles a little, allowing himself a small smile at the memory. He lets himself escape, for a little while, into tiny anecdotes about life at the ship, the small things they do and do not do as if everything is fine, as if Mark was just displaced for a small period and needs to catch up on the latest gossip about the boys’ antics. It’s not true, but Jackson is good at pretending.
“And the other day, Jinyoung put a rat’s tail in Yugyeom’s soup, just to mess with him. I mean, we haven’t had rats in three years, do you remember the last time? Probably not, you spent three days in the crow’s nest after we found them, that was hilarious. Still don’t know how on earth they got on the ship, but whatever. So Yugyeom found this long thing in his soup, and I suppose Jinyoung thought he’d freak out, but Yugyeom’s too cool for that, you know. He just picked it up and walked out, and we were all a bit disappointed, you know, like, that’s it? But oh no, Yugyeom is a clever little bugger, so when Jinyoung went to bed that night we all heard this shrilling sound, like a girl screaming, and Jinyoung comes running back out on deck and apparently Yugyeom put the thing in his hammock?!”
He laughs again.
“I’m so proud of the kid.”
He glances over at Mark again.
Mark isn’t smiling.
Mark isn’t moving at all.
It drives Jackson back to the present and the invisible hand on his throat tightens its hold.
“It’s not the same,” he admits, quietly, more sober again. He isn’t fooling anyone. “Not without you. We all try, but…” He searches for more words, for any explanation, excuse, comfort, anything - but nothing comes out except a defeated sigh.
Mark still stands stiffly next to him. His hand is stretched out, reaching towards the sea, towards something that captures his eyes and attention far across the horizon, and Jackson just wishes he could see those eyes meeting his with the same warmth, affection and mirth he always associated with Mark. This stillness, the detached coldness and quite frankly dead expression on Mark’s face drives daggers through his chest and he wants to look away because this hurts, but he can’t, not after being away from Mark for so long, and now that he’s here, he’s not entirely here, and -
Jackson reaches out and wraps his warm hand around Mark’s outstretched, cold one. It fits into his just like it used to, but it doesn’t move to intertwine their fingers like before.
The fond memories of a shared past is all they’ll ever have now.
Jackson moves, puts both of his hand on Mark’s and stands in front of him, casting a shadow where the sun shone earlier. But Mark's eyes still see right through Jackson, past him and into a moment long lost but still haunting Jackson’s nightmares. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything, but his expression is such a distressing combination of horror and confusion that Jackson has to move his eyes away again.
This is the first time he’s seen Mark’s face in seven months, and it is just as he remembered.
If there was anything left of his heart to break, it would shatter into diamond dust now.
“Mark…” He starts, gripping the hand tighter with his, but Mark doesn’t complain. “I’m so sorry, Mark…”
How could they have been laughing, smiling, singing, imagining a future where they all grew old and ugly just a scarce year ago? How could they have been so careless, unaware, challenging the world as if their invincibility was as uncontested as their youth? A year ago Jackson would have laughed, kissed Mark and tossed him overboard with mere seconds to spare just for fun, and Mark would have shoved him to the floor and wrestled with him until they were both sweaty and exhausted.
And here they are now.
The grim stillness is such a morbid contrast that Jackson wants to shut down, fall to the ground and never get back up. Sob himself to death at Mark’s feet, like he thinks he deserves.
He knows that nothing will ever be the same again, but it doesn’t stop him from dreaming, those nights his sleep isn’t tortured by nightmares or insomnia. He dreams of coming to the island and taking Mark with them, dragging him down to the ship while enduring endless complaints about boredom and slow pirates, and everything would be fine. They would sail the seas, conquer the world and live their lives in happiness, just as before. He would punch Mark and Mark would kiss him back, and Bambam would call them pigs and Jaebum would bark at them to get back to work. It would be a good life, just like they had before.
Then he wakes up and cries when he sees the empty hammock next to his.
He knew going back to see Mark would end miserably for everyone, but he missed him so dearly. There was a never-ending ache, dull throbbing in his chest, and nothing was quite as amusing as before. He could never forget Mark, but he had hoped he would be able to ignore his absence.
He didn’t.
They could never leave him alone like this, anyway, not completely. It wouldn’t be right to Mark, he deserved as much. They couldn’t have him at the ship, it was too dangerous, and it wasn’t fair to keep him locked up either.
Jackson had suggested the island.
A small piece of freedom, brittle and isolated, but still better than the hull of a pirate ship. At least here Mark would be in peace, and he could look out at the sea he loved so much, relive a thousand sunsets and tropical showers.
It wasn’t much, but it was all they could do for him now.
Jackson still believes they made the right call, but now that he stands before this beautiful, damaged man he would gladly give his life for a thousand times, he wonders if he will be able to live with himself.
Mark would smack him over the head for such thoughts.
Mark won’t ever smack him again.
“Mark…” Jackson says again, and it feels so good to repeat this name, Mark, Mark, Mark, because it has become an almost unspoken rule to never mention the name around the ship. It’s too painful, too raw for everyone involved, but Jackson especially. It feels good, marginally better but nowhere near remediating, to finally say the name he has spoken more than any other for as long as he can remember. “Mark, please…”
Please, what?
He doesn’t know what he’s asking for himself. Forgiveness? A smile?
Jackson takes his hand away from Mark’s hand and move closer to cup his face instead. Cold, smooth cheeks feel almost unfamiliar under his touch, but it’s still Mark. Same tousled hair and pierced ears, same sculpted nose and wide eyes. So quiet, so scared, so beautiful, even now. Jackson wishes, as he does at least six times a day, that this never happened.
The tears start to fall as he lets his face fall against Mark’s forehead, and he shakes all over while sobs rip through the air to interrupt the silence of desolation. His thumbs rub slow circles across Mark’s cheeks, a habit more than anything, but it helps ground him when the usual soft hands don’t land on his back to rub away his aches and worries. Instead there is nothing, Mark remains quiet and still and Jackson tries to will it any other way, but he can’t.
“I still love you, Mark,” he says, thickly, trembling, and his breath ghosts over Mark’s barely parted lips in mock imitation of how they used to lie together in the darkness, close, intimate, happy.
It’s a far cry from the helpless desperation rattling in Jackson’s chest right now.
“I’m so sorry,” he continues, still keeping his head close to Mark’s, but his eyes are closed, avoiding. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you safe, and I’m so sorry for leaving you here. I think about you every day, I…” He halts again.
“How could you leave me, Mark?”
Mark isn’t answering. He can’t.
Jackson knows this and he shakes his head a little before throwing his arms around stiff shoulders, pulling himself closer to Mark until two bodies almost becomes one. Almost, because one is hard and cold, while the other is pliant and warm. Jackson wraps himself around Mark, trying to ignore it, but it doesn’t feel the same. He knew it wouldn’t, but it still sends bile rising up his throat, choking him and spinning his head until Mark is his only lifeline, like so many times before, but not quite the same way -
“Please forgive me, Mark,” he mumbles into Mark’s neck, shoulder, whatever, and shakes his head again. “I don’t know what to do, but I would do anything - “
There isn’t anything to do. It’s irreversible. Jackson will never get Mark back.
Curses are horrifying like that.
“I love you…” Jackson chokes out again, because he probably didn’t say it often enough before, and it feels almost validating to say it now. Not quite enough, doesn’t change anything, but Jackson needs to say it. “I love you, I love, I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you. If nothing else, I hope you know that.”
Mark isn’t saying anything. But Jackson knows Mark knows anyway.
He knows Mark would say the same back.
It doesn’t make it any better.
Untangling himself from Mark’s stiff body and lifeless gaze is one of the hardest things Jackson has ever done, second only to leaving him here in the first place. He looks at the shell of the man that was his world, the man with the most adorable smile and annoyingly endearing laugh and mischievous, gentle eyes - once upon a time.
“I’ll come visit you again,” Jackson says and swallows as he steps back. “And I’ll come back after that too. You’ll never get rid of me, you know. I’m annoying, I’m gonna cling.”
“Yeah, you are, but it’s alright, I love you anyway.”
It’s the echo of a memory, but Jackson can almost imagine it coming from frozen lips as he reluctantly tears his eyes away from that form, and instantly he sees before him an image of Mark as he was seven months ago, before this entire calamity. He is smiling, laughing at something Jinyoung said, flinging an arm around Jackson and kicking at Youngjae. It’s a beautiful scene, but it’s not true anymore.
“I’ll never stop loving you, Mark,” Jackson says quietly as he takes the first step away, down the hill, towards the ship, and his waiting crewmates. “I hope you know that.”
He disappears down the cliff, a slow descent, but time doesn’t pass for Mark, and the petrified body of stone is left alone amongst the tufts of grass fluttering in the breeze and the last rays of sunlight from a blood red sky.
He will wait, wait forever until Jackson returns. That’s all he is. That’s all he does.
Stone is unaffected by the passing of years.
Fandom: GOT7
Pairing: Markson (or never)
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 3012
Warnings: (SPOILERS) vague allusions to possible character death
Summary: Mark is just where Jackson left him seven months ago, still staring out at the sea they once traversed together, and Jackson feels every step closer to the man he still loves as a stab to the heart.
AN: of course the first GOT7 fic I post is a drunk fic. At least this one is... Somewhat readable? yo i need to stop drunk fics
Anyway, have some vague pirate!au Markson. Is there a pirate!au for GOT7 out there? If so pls tell me so I don't have to write one myself
Also: no I don't give a shit about titles, soz
Mark is right where Jackson left him, high upon the cliff above the crashing waves and staring out at the cascading hues of red, orange, and yellow across the sky and where they blend into the sea. Mark’s familiar features look unchanged, barely worn by time and wind and seasalt in the air, still beautiful, still enchanting. It’s as if the last seven months never happened. As if he wasn’t left behind while Jackson was out there, sailing under the flag they once swore fealty to together, plundering, drinking, fighting like the right pirate he is.
While Mark was all alone on this lonely island.
He doesn’t accuse Jackson though, no, he never would. He couldn’t.
Jackson knows this.
It doesn’t make the trek from the beach and up the hill to Mark’s resting spot any easier. Jaebum, Jinyoung and the kids offered to come with him, said they wanted to see Mark as well, but Jackson asked them to stay on the ship. It is selfish, he knows, but every step is a stab to his lungs, heart, throat, head, reminding him of the painful choice he made, the sacrifices he had to endure, and he allows himself this little trinket of relief. Each step brings another memory of the day he turned his back to Mark and walked down this very cliff. It was easily the worst day of Jackson’s life.
He just wants to see Mark again, just for a little while, even if it isn’t going to change anything.
He will still have to leave him here at the end of the day, go back to the sea and a vagrant life that isn’t nearly as fun without Mark there by his side.
It’s a nauseating thought.
He sees Mark’s back, almost too soon, and even though Jackson has been waiting for this moment for seven months, he falters, hesitant, almost uncertain in his approach. Suddenly everything he thought about, everything he wanted to say feels inconsequential. He wonders what he is doing here at all, because even the silhouette of the man he loves is enough to blur his eyes and send a tremor through his knees.
Mark deserves so much more.
Jackson drags a hand over his face and sighs to himself. This isn’t okay. Not at all.
But at least he is here now, and he will kick himself overboard tomorrow if he doesn’t use his time well. He isn’t the only one suffering.
The final few steps are the heaviest, but also the quickest, and Jackson tries to shake off any sign of his anxiety as he steps up next to Mark.
They stand together in silence for a second, gazing out at the neverending water and the seagulls and the shadow of a ship they both know as well as their own nose. The sky is mirrored on the rippled surface, not a perfect replication, but still enough to paint a lifelike image of the motive it imitates. It’s a beautiful evening, for what it’s worth, but neither of them are able to appreciate it. Not quite. Jackson glances over and sees the warm glow play on Mark’s smooth skin, making his face come alive with a certain warmth Jackson only sees in memory now.
The sight almost makes him happy.
But it’s still not… It’s not quite right.
Jackson tears his eyes away and focuses on the blurred horizon instead.
“Hi, Mark,” he says quietly, after minutes of stillness and quiet and it’s almost absurd in it’s mundanity. It works, because Mark doesn’t say anything back.
“I missed you,” Jackson continues, still subdued, so unlike his usual vigour and audacity. Not that his voice has held much power lately. It just doesn’t work anymore, not when he doesn’t have to be a counterpart to Mark’s shy softness. He’s shouting at something that isn’t there, and reaching out to imaginary arms that don’t search for his. It’s confusing, disturbing, and makes Jackson feel uncomfortable in the skin he has worn for sixteen years.
“I mean, they all missed you,” he says, almost quickly (but what is the point?) and reiterates the point. “But seven months without you and I… I don’t think we’ve been apart for that long since we met.”
He smiles then, a sad, little, broken smile, far from Jackson’s usual toothy grins.
“Not even that one time you hid away on a Marine ship and they sailed away with you as a blind passenger.” He snorts a little. Mark doesn’t say anything. “Man, those were good times. How long was it, a couple of weeks? Three? And you were crying so hard when they tossed you out on the docks the day they returned. Couldn’t make you stop for hours, but you sure had some great stories when you did.”
Mark isn’t looking at him, isn’t moving an inch, and Jackson continues.
“Yeah, I was really lonely without you back then,” he nods, mostly to himself. “It’s always been me and you, you know? What am I doing out there without you?”
He pauses. Swallows.
Mark is silent.
Jackson wants to cry.
“The others miss you too,” he says, almost as a distraction. A brief reprieve from his breaking sanity, the tightrope he is walking between grief and anger and regret. He doesn’t know what to do with all of it, except to push it away. It doesn’t quite work - otherwise he wouldn’t be here.
Otherwise he would have tried to forget Mark.
Jackson could never forget Mark.
“The kids are getting along fine,” he says, because Mark always cared about the kids. Even if they’re not children anymore, strictly speaking, they will always be ‘the kids’ to Jackson and Mark. “Bambam wasn’t dealing too well in the beginning, but he’s banged his head against the mast a couple of times and told himself to man up, so he did. Youngjae is taking up some of your duties, well, he and Jinyoung are splitting, mostly - “
There is an unspoken agreement that they are not going to hire a replacement for Mark, even if it would make their jobs so much easier, the running of the ship so much smoother. They might have to, but no one has pushed the notion so far.
Jackson doesn’t want to face the possibility, ever.
No one can replace Mark.
“ - but Youngjae’s getting so good with the gun, it’s almost scary, I tell you. Not quite like your glory days, but better than most guys I’ve ever seen. So a few weeks ago, Bambam was trying to chase off a seagull at the rear, and Youngjae just straight up shot it, right next to Bambam’s head, and you should’ve seen the fuss he kicked up, it was great.”
He chuckles a little, allowing himself a small smile at the memory. He lets himself escape, for a little while, into tiny anecdotes about life at the ship, the small things they do and do not do as if everything is fine, as if Mark was just displaced for a small period and needs to catch up on the latest gossip about the boys’ antics. It’s not true, but Jackson is good at pretending.
“And the other day, Jinyoung put a rat’s tail in Yugyeom’s soup, just to mess with him. I mean, we haven’t had rats in three years, do you remember the last time? Probably not, you spent three days in the crow’s nest after we found them, that was hilarious. Still don’t know how on earth they got on the ship, but whatever. So Yugyeom found this long thing in his soup, and I suppose Jinyoung thought he’d freak out, but Yugyeom’s too cool for that, you know. He just picked it up and walked out, and we were all a bit disappointed, you know, like, that’s it? But oh no, Yugyeom is a clever little bugger, so when Jinyoung went to bed that night we all heard this shrilling sound, like a girl screaming, and Jinyoung comes running back out on deck and apparently Yugyeom put the thing in his hammock?!”
He laughs again.
“I’m so proud of the kid.”
He glances over at Mark again.
Mark isn’t smiling.
Mark isn’t moving at all.
It drives Jackson back to the present and the invisible hand on his throat tightens its hold.
“It’s not the same,” he admits, quietly, more sober again. He isn’t fooling anyone. “Not without you. We all try, but…” He searches for more words, for any explanation, excuse, comfort, anything - but nothing comes out except a defeated sigh.
Mark still stands stiffly next to him. His hand is stretched out, reaching towards the sea, towards something that captures his eyes and attention far across the horizon, and Jackson just wishes he could see those eyes meeting his with the same warmth, affection and mirth he always associated with Mark. This stillness, the detached coldness and quite frankly dead expression on Mark’s face drives daggers through his chest and he wants to look away because this hurts, but he can’t, not after being away from Mark for so long, and now that he’s here, he’s not entirely here, and -
Jackson reaches out and wraps his warm hand around Mark’s outstretched, cold one. It fits into his just like it used to, but it doesn’t move to intertwine their fingers like before.
The fond memories of a shared past is all they’ll ever have now.
Jackson moves, puts both of his hand on Mark’s and stands in front of him, casting a shadow where the sun shone earlier. But Mark's eyes still see right through Jackson, past him and into a moment long lost but still haunting Jackson’s nightmares. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything, but his expression is such a distressing combination of horror and confusion that Jackson has to move his eyes away again.
This is the first time he’s seen Mark’s face in seven months, and it is just as he remembered.
If there was anything left of his heart to break, it would shatter into diamond dust now.
“Mark…” He starts, gripping the hand tighter with his, but Mark doesn’t complain. “I’m so sorry, Mark…”
How could they have been laughing, smiling, singing, imagining a future where they all grew old and ugly just a scarce year ago? How could they have been so careless, unaware, challenging the world as if their invincibility was as uncontested as their youth? A year ago Jackson would have laughed, kissed Mark and tossed him overboard with mere seconds to spare just for fun, and Mark would have shoved him to the floor and wrestled with him until they were both sweaty and exhausted.
And here they are now.
The grim stillness is such a morbid contrast that Jackson wants to shut down, fall to the ground and never get back up. Sob himself to death at Mark’s feet, like he thinks he deserves.
He knows that nothing will ever be the same again, but it doesn’t stop him from dreaming, those nights his sleep isn’t tortured by nightmares or insomnia. He dreams of coming to the island and taking Mark with them, dragging him down to the ship while enduring endless complaints about boredom and slow pirates, and everything would be fine. They would sail the seas, conquer the world and live their lives in happiness, just as before. He would punch Mark and Mark would kiss him back, and Bambam would call them pigs and Jaebum would bark at them to get back to work. It would be a good life, just like they had before.
Then he wakes up and cries when he sees the empty hammock next to his.
He knew going back to see Mark would end miserably for everyone, but he missed him so dearly. There was a never-ending ache, dull throbbing in his chest, and nothing was quite as amusing as before. He could never forget Mark, but he had hoped he would be able to ignore his absence.
He didn’t.
They could never leave him alone like this, anyway, not completely. It wouldn’t be right to Mark, he deserved as much. They couldn’t have him at the ship, it was too dangerous, and it wasn’t fair to keep him locked up either.
Jackson had suggested the island.
A small piece of freedom, brittle and isolated, but still better than the hull of a pirate ship. At least here Mark would be in peace, and he could look out at the sea he loved so much, relive a thousand sunsets and tropical showers.
It wasn’t much, but it was all they could do for him now.
Jackson still believes they made the right call, but now that he stands before this beautiful, damaged man he would gladly give his life for a thousand times, he wonders if he will be able to live with himself.
Mark would smack him over the head for such thoughts.
Mark won’t ever smack him again.
“Mark…” Jackson says again, and it feels so good to repeat this name, Mark, Mark, Mark, because it has become an almost unspoken rule to never mention the name around the ship. It’s too painful, too raw for everyone involved, but Jackson especially. It feels good, marginally better but nowhere near remediating, to finally say the name he has spoken more than any other for as long as he can remember. “Mark, please…”
Please, what?
He doesn’t know what he’s asking for himself. Forgiveness? A smile?
Jackson takes his hand away from Mark’s hand and move closer to cup his face instead. Cold, smooth cheeks feel almost unfamiliar under his touch, but it’s still Mark. Same tousled hair and pierced ears, same sculpted nose and wide eyes. So quiet, so scared, so beautiful, even now. Jackson wishes, as he does at least six times a day, that this never happened.
The tears start to fall as he lets his face fall against Mark’s forehead, and he shakes all over while sobs rip through the air to interrupt the silence of desolation. His thumbs rub slow circles across Mark’s cheeks, a habit more than anything, but it helps ground him when the usual soft hands don’t land on his back to rub away his aches and worries. Instead there is nothing, Mark remains quiet and still and Jackson tries to will it any other way, but he can’t.
“I still love you, Mark,” he says, thickly, trembling, and his breath ghosts over Mark’s barely parted lips in mock imitation of how they used to lie together in the darkness, close, intimate, happy.
It’s a far cry from the helpless desperation rattling in Jackson’s chest right now.
“I’m so sorry,” he continues, still keeping his head close to Mark’s, but his eyes are closed, avoiding. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you safe, and I’m so sorry for leaving you here. I think about you every day, I…” He halts again.
“How could you leave me, Mark?”
Mark isn’t answering. He can’t.
Jackson knows this and he shakes his head a little before throwing his arms around stiff shoulders, pulling himself closer to Mark until two bodies almost becomes one. Almost, because one is hard and cold, while the other is pliant and warm. Jackson wraps himself around Mark, trying to ignore it, but it doesn’t feel the same. He knew it wouldn’t, but it still sends bile rising up his throat, choking him and spinning his head until Mark is his only lifeline, like so many times before, but not quite the same way -
“Please forgive me, Mark,” he mumbles into Mark’s neck, shoulder, whatever, and shakes his head again. “I don’t know what to do, but I would do anything - “
There isn’t anything to do. It’s irreversible. Jackson will never get Mark back.
Curses are horrifying like that.
“I love you…” Jackson chokes out again, because he probably didn’t say it often enough before, and it feels almost validating to say it now. Not quite enough, doesn’t change anything, but Jackson needs to say it. “I love you, I love, I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you. If nothing else, I hope you know that.”
Mark isn’t saying anything. But Jackson knows Mark knows anyway.
He knows Mark would say the same back.
It doesn’t make it any better.
Untangling himself from Mark’s stiff body and lifeless gaze is one of the hardest things Jackson has ever done, second only to leaving him here in the first place. He looks at the shell of the man that was his world, the man with the most adorable smile and annoyingly endearing laugh and mischievous, gentle eyes - once upon a time.
“I’ll come visit you again,” Jackson says and swallows as he steps back. “And I’ll come back after that too. You’ll never get rid of me, you know. I’m annoying, I’m gonna cling.”
“Yeah, you are, but it’s alright, I love you anyway.”
It’s the echo of a memory, but Jackson can almost imagine it coming from frozen lips as he reluctantly tears his eyes away from that form, and instantly he sees before him an image of Mark as he was seven months ago, before this entire calamity. He is smiling, laughing at something Jinyoung said, flinging an arm around Jackson and kicking at Youngjae. It’s a beautiful scene, but it’s not true anymore.
“I’ll never stop loving you, Mark,” Jackson says quietly as he takes the first step away, down the hill, towards the ship, and his waiting crewmates. “I hope you know that.”
He disappears down the cliff, a slow descent, but time doesn’t pass for Mark, and the petrified body of stone is left alone amongst the tufts of grass fluttering in the breeze and the last rays of sunlight from a blood red sky.
He will wait, wait forever until Jackson returns. That’s all he is. That’s all he does.
Stone is unaffected by the passing of years.