Markiplier Imagines / One-Shots ((fin))

°My Favorite Phantom Pt. 2°

Recommended Song(s) For This Imagine:
Long Way Home - 5 Seconds of Summer

Every Halloween you looked forward for Mark's arrival at 6:33 pm. You easily considered him your best friend.

Except this Halloween was different.

You were 17 now, and had been invited to a Halloween party by a cute boy from school. It was your senior year, and also was going to be your first high school party. School in your new town was never easy for you, friends were few and far between, so you really wanted to go.

You'd nearly forgotten about Mark's visit that night as you put on a bit of makeup. It wasn't a costume party or anything, it was supposed to be horror movies and food. You were to be at Jeremy's house at 7, so you left your house at 6:30.

As you were driving in your car, you looked absentmindedly at the clock, then realized the time. 6:33. Shit, you were going to miss Mark. You convinced yourself he would understand, after all, you'd poured out your troubles at school to him for several years.

At Jeremy's house, you nervously rang the doorbell, fingers tapping on your phone. A little girl dressed in a Cinderella costume answered the door.

"Hi." You smiled. "I'm Y/N, I'm a friend of Jeremy's, he's home, right?"

She nodded, still not moving from the doorway. Then, a woman entered the room, smiling at you. "Hello," she said, moving the girl. "I'm Mrs. Gobea, don't mind Caroline. Come on in, Jeremy and his friends are in the basement."

"Thank you." You nodded to her, walking to the stairs she had gestured to.

Downstairs, there was a circle of beanbags around a small TV, and a few people were around a microwave. Unsure of what to say, you stood there for a moment before they noticed you.

"Oh hey Y/N!" Jeremy grinned at you, walking over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "Meet my friends! Lucy, John, Michael, and Olive."

Olive didn't seem happy to meet you, sending a death glare at you. Smiling nervously, you said hello to everyone. Then, the microwave dinged, signalling the popcorn was ready.

Everyone crammed themselves onto some beanbags, you picked one at the end, and to your surprise Jeremy squished in right next to you. Olive seemed to notice this and sat on his other side.

You first watched Night of the Living Dead, which didn't scare you all too much. Olive, on the other hand, seemed terrified, clinging onto Jeremy's arm and complimenting him on his biceps.

Towards to end of the movie, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, quickly tidying up your hair. Throwing on a huge smile, you walked back to out to settle in next to Jeremy, but instead your smile immediately fell. Olive was on top of his lap, and they were fervently making out.

Without a word, you ran upstairs and out the door, throwing yourself into your car. All caution was out the window as you sped home and ran upstairs to your room, past your concerned parents. Stumbling, you fell onto your bed, tears streaming all over your pillow. You knew it, nobody liked you. Absolutely nobody.

A voice in the corner of your room disturbed your crying. "About time you showed up! I've been waiting for nearly three-"

Mark's forceful yelling stopped when you looked up at him, mascara running down your face. His face and tone immediately softened. "Y/N, what happened?"

"Everybody hates me! I can't seem to do anything right! I have no friends, I forgot about you, some bitch made out with a guy I kinda liked. But it doesn't fucking matter! Because I don't fucking matter!"

"Oh Y/N, don't think that. That's so not true." He walked over to you, hovering over the bed beside you. Mark reached up his hand towards your face, as if trying to wipe your tears, but his hand went through your cheeks, making you shiver. "If I could wipe your tears, I would."

You sniffles, wiping them and giving him a weak smile.

He continued speaking. "I'm your friend, and I like you. You matter to me, to your parents. So what if that guy made out with some bitch? He didn't deserve someone as beautiful as you."

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do! I've been your friend for what, seven years now? You are amazing and incredible, and deserve so much better than that fuckboy could've given you!"

You smiled at his use of the term. "You used modern slang correctly. Babies grow up so fast."

"Hey, I'm 445 years older than you!"

"Woah really?"

"Nah, I'm about 145 years older than you, but yknow, close enough."