Chapter Text
A century is a long time to live with the agonizing guilt of past actions. An awful long time because the average human should not live for that long in the first place.
But Mark hasn’t been an average human since the events at his old home so long ago.
He’s had time to move on, physically at least. Starting his YouTube channel, playing games, raising money for charities, it's the kind of public performances he always wanted to do, but on a smaller, less corruptive scale. Putting his acting skills to good use and re-building his fortune from the ground-up.
Emotionally?
The guilt still runs strong. Whether Mark was influenced by that darker entity or not, he would always be responsible for all the death and destruction that took place that day.
His thoughts spiral into reflections of that time as he sits in front of his computer to edit his latest video. Questioning how he could have ever considered doing the things he did, reaming himself for being such a heartbroken idiot…
…missing his friends.
Life is for the living. But your friends are dead, and you’re close enough.
Mark shakes his head and returns to the tedious void of editing. It’s hard to remind himself not to dwell on the past, but lately, he’s been doing better about it. It helps to keep busy with the channel, and to obsessively plan for the next project he can lose himself in planning.
He’s startled out of his momentum by a pounding at the door. He goes to open it and sees Benja—Tyler on the other side, hands on his knees, panting like he’s run thirty miles.
“Why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?!” Tyler demands, holding his own cellular device as proof of trying.
“My battery’s dead, are you okay?” Mark asks. “I thought you were just going to get McDonald’s—”
“I’d be fine if you actually charged your phone more than once a day, but that’s not the point, you gotta come with me, right now!”
“Wait, why—”
But Tyler grabs Mark’s hand and tugs him out of the house and into the car. As the vehicle speeds down the road, Mark suddenly wonders if his only surviving friend has finally lost it.
“Tyler, what is going on?”
“It’s better that you just wait and see—”
“You can’t just break down my studio door and not expect questions—”
“Just shut up and wait!” Tyler shakes his head. “Look, I’m sorry, but really, you wouldn’t believe me unless you saw yourself.”
Mark settles into the hot leather of his seat, arms crossed. He feels highly uneasy about this, but he can’t put a finger on why. Aside from Tyler definitely speeding to wherever the hell they’re going.
“Slow down! You keep going this fast, you’ll get us killed!”
“Oh, you came back just fine last time!”
This is really not the time to make petty jokes about that. “I think the circumstances would beg to diff—”
Mark lurches into his seat belt hard enough to hurt as Tyler slams the car to a halt and leaps out to the street.
“C’mon!”
Mark hesitates when he sees the suspicious alleyway Tyler has parked in front of. “Um…Tyler, if I’ve done anything to offend you this century—”
“MARK!”
“Okay, okay, keep your pants on!” Mark follows Tyler into the alley.
“No, no, no, no,” Tyler mutters, as his gaze rakes up and down the alley. He finds a vacant cardboard box big enough for a person and gestures wildly to it. “They were right here, I swear to God, they were right here!”
“Tyler, who are you talking about? What’s going on here?”
Tyler’s hand runs through his hair. The look in his eyes is almost manic. “They should be here, I told them to stay—”
“Um…hello?”
A hoarse voice cuts through Tyler’s frustration. Mark switches his attention from his friend to the newcomer standing a little further into the alley, half behind a dumpster—
Mark does a double-take.
No.
No, it’s impossible.
The person is obviously homeless, in a heavily stained over-sized hoodie and jeans so tattered Mark can’t believe they’re holding up. The shoes are in a similar condition to the jeans. Their face is gaunt and sickly, eyes nearly popping out of their head.
But those eyes, century-old eyes…
Unmistakable.
In another life, those eyes broke and mended his heart countless times.
The District Attorney shuffles forward, a limp in their step. They’re looking at Tyler. “I…I didn’t think you were actually coming back…” Their hands are stuffed into the pockets of the hoodie. “Thanks for the burger…”
Wait…why aren’t they speaking to him? They looked right at him—
“No problem,” Tyler dismisses. He grabs Mark by the shoulder. His grip is tight, a silent message to play it cool.
(What does Mark even look like right now? Hopeful? Heartbroken? What’s he supposed to say? Why don’t they recognize him?)
“This is Mark, the friend I told you about,” Tyler introduces. “The one who’d like to help you, I mean.”
Their eyebrow lifts, and the shy bemusement, so achingly familiar, nearly sends Mark to his knees. “The one who wasn’t answering his phone?” They sound like they haven’t spoken in years, a scratched record of a voice.
“Yeah, he’s bad at battery management,” Tyler jokes. He pulls Mark back and gives him a very purposeful look. “Our friend here,” Tyler shifts his head in the DA’s direction, “is a little lost. Has been for a long time.” Tyler turns back to them. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah…I guess…” They shake their head. “My head is a little…blank, I guess would be the right word.” They pull their hands out of their pockets, thin and bony like a skeleton, and hug their arms around their body. “I saw Tyler on the street, and…I swear he looked…and you look…familiar, maybe.” They swallow, the action rather frightening in their veiny neck. “I’m sorry, I sound crazy—”
“No!” Mark interrupts, the first thing he’s said since laying eyes on them. He pulls out of Tyler’s grip and steps closer to them. “No, you—you’re not crazy, you don’t sound crazy.” Shit, he’s acting weird, he needs to back off.
My head is a little blank.
No clear recognition in their eyes.
They’re alive, somehow.
They don’t remember him.
And at his sudden loud word, they finally make direct eye contact with Mark. His breath catches at how hesitant they look, the fragile hope and despair in their face.
“You…” They clear their throat. “Tyler said you could help me…but I’m a stranger, I’m sorry, this is weird, if it’s too much to ask—”
Mark reaches his hands out and grips their upper arms. When they immediately flinch, he draws back.
Shit. This is…this isn’t good, how are they here, they’re alive, they’re alive, but…they look so dead. What the hell happened to them?
Mark straightens, a new resolve coming over him.
“Yes, I’m going to help you.” Mark glances over his shoulder to see Tyler watching them both carefully. Tyler's weird behavior all makes sense now. He looks back to the DA. “You’re going to come with us, you’re going to have a home, food, and maybe even a job, if we play our cards right.” Mark takes a chance and steps a little closer to them. “I’m going to keep you safe. I promise.”
He’ll never let them get hurt again. He’ll never hurt them again, he swears on his life.
A rash promise, perhaps, but seeing hope light up those dim eyes makes it all worth it.