Chapter Text
Ethan sighed as he lay on his couch, he was so damn lonely. Swaddled in blankets, and with his feet poking out one end, he knew that he had to get up eventually. Soon he would need to use the bathroom, or get something to eat, but he didn’t want to now. It was so warm, and so safe-feeling, that Ethan decided to try and fall asleep right there.
Everything was just so perfect right now, the sun had set, so there was no blinding glare from the window, it was friday, so tomorrow he would have no classes, and there was a boston creme pie on the counter, waiting to be eaten tomorrow.
This moment was an island in a rough ocean that was currently Ethan’s life. His girlfriend had just broken up with him, less than a week ago, after she found his strange… obsession, and she hadn’t taken it very well. Ethan didn’t blame her, he is a freak, always has been.
No. He is in a safe place, these thoughts are not ones he should think right now, not while he felt so good. His thoughts drifted back to his surroundings, since they never changed, and were always reassuring.
Youtube was playing in the background, he had a playlist of videos that he had seen a thousand times before, but always made him feel happy. The voices soothed him and made him think of when he still lived with his parents, and he fell asleep to their voices talking downstairs.
The blanket draped over him had a sunset-like pattern, reds, oranges, and purples. It was very soft, and his favorite. Ethan attempted to retreat even further into his cocoon of blankets, and found that he couldn’t without poking even more of his long legs out of the warmth.
Ethan’s feet were already exposed to the cold air, the heaters in his apartment sucked, but the feet were manageable. His calves were off limits to the cold air though, and he hissed at the feeling of cold.
Curling in on himself would only lead to falling off the couch, and he didn’t want to do that, so he attempted to get up. Of course, his mind internally screamed bloody murder as he did so, since he was leaving the safe spot, and oh god, the thoughts were back.
The thoughts invaded his mind quickly, they were every single ‘what if’ possible, and none of them were good ‘what ifs’. “What if you fail at school and end up being unsuccessful and homeless? What if you can’t pay back your student loans?” were a few examples, but the most common one was “What if no one loves you, and you are lonely forever?”
Ethan was anything but suicidal, or self-harming, but he knew that he might become one of those if he kept the thoughts pent up. Last time he had let it happen… well, he still had the scar on his hip, but that could be mistaken for anything.
Writing the thoughts down, along with everything else that had happened recently was a good way to calm himself, so he took out the journal he kept (it is NOT a diary), and got on his hands and knees to peek under the couch.
Immediately, he tensed, this position was not one he wanted to be in, not for too long, not at all. It reminded him too much of that awful time. Ethan instead sat down, and ran his hand under the place he had been lying down. Within a few seconds, he came up with a pen, which wasn’t his first choice, but it would work.
He always addressed his journal to his idol, the one who brightened his days when they were oh, so very dark. Ethan gripped the pen in his hand very hard, and lowered it to the page.
“Dear Mark,”
No, that felt too much like he was referring to a friend, rather than the person he had looked up to for years. When he read over this, hopefully after he wasn’t obsessing over this man, he would laugh at how strange and stupid he once was.
“Dear Mark, (that is crossed out, I don’t know if it registers on all devices)
“Dear Markiplier,”
That was better, but Ethan realized that he could have just written ‘iplier’ after Mark, which kind of defeated the whole point of keeping the page neat. It didn’t matter now though, he needed to put down his thoughts before they became unbearable.
“Dear Markiplier,
Today sucked, yet again. This whole week sucked. In fact, the past couple of months have all been awful. My girlfriend Sarah broke up with me, I remember writing about her somewhere in here. I am still in my apartment that is being paid for by my parents, even though they told me that they would stop paying for it when they found out.
When they found out about you. It was Sarah, she found this journal and she sent them a picture I drew of you, and the poem, and the part where I said that you were the first man I ever felt attracted to. She told them, and they told me that they would cut me off from all support from them.
I don’t know when they are going to stop paying for the apartment, I hope it’s not soon, since I already have enough debt, with my student loans. My work as a waiter on some weekdays barely gets me food and other things I need.
You are the only thing that gets me through the week at this point, your voice helps me sleep at night. I wish I could be just like you, everything seems to be amazing with you. You live in a nice house, you have thousands of fans (like me) who would probably jump off a cliff for you.
Well, I mean, I wouldn’t always like to be you, I still want to be me. You have brown eyes, but I like mine. I like a lot of things about myself, but it would still be nice to be you around half the time. I know that is strangely specific, But who knows? Maybe I will see a shooting star tonight, and it will come true.
Anyway, enough about my hopes and dreams. The week/month has been a plummet down, down, down into awfulness. I got a bad grade on a test, you only posted one video in the past month, and of course, the thing with Sarah.
Here’s another wish; I want to see you, and meet you in real life. I want to know if your laugh is as genuine and wonderful-sounding in person.
Love,
Ethan”
Ethan smiled sadly as he placed the diary on the shoddy coffee table, and forced himself to get up. Immediately, he sat down, because he felt really light headed, but he got back up again because he saw something.
He walked over to the window, and saw a moving light. ‘Probably just a plane’ he thought to himself, but not before remembering his wish. The light wasn’t blinking, however, so he concluded that it was in fact a star.
Ethan wondered if maybe Mark was seeing this same star-thing, if maybe this was the only way that he could feel connected to his idol. Everything was just getting worse in his life, he supposed the only way he could go now was up.
“Here goes nothing.” he told nobody in particular, and he concentrated on the idea of being just like the person he looked up to. Ethan screwed up his face so that it was wrinkled all over, and his eyes were closed tight.
Nothing happened.
He wasn’t expecting anything to, but it was still a bit of a let down. It would have been impossible, but you can’t sue someone for hoping. Ethan noticed how dirty the window was, it was covered in a thin layer of grime. Maybe he hadn’t seen a star, it still could have been an airplane.
It was late, and he should sleep. Ethan exhaled, and listened to the noise his feet made as he entered the single bedroom in the apartment. In the room, there was a good sized bed, a dresser, and a bunch of boxes that he hadn’t unpacked in the year that he had lived there.
He didn’t even bother to take off his stiff jeans, only throwing off his shirt and pulling the covers over his cold body.
Sleep came quickly.