#sunshinechallenge

The rain drips outside, the dreary sidewalk lamps illuminating the dark like a bad picture, caught all at the wrong angle and moment and time. The weather on this side of the world is usually fairer than this—but tonight, it seems the universe wants to be a colossal dick to Jack.

Sipping from his lukewarm cup of coffee, he shakes his leg beneath the table, rocking the old thing and causing it to creak restlessly against the chipping tile floor. The diner is still in business after all these years, and it's a miracle in its own way—the food has never been that good. There's maybe one or two people here at a time, and so Jack doesn't have much of a clue as to how they actually stay in business.

But that's not what matters. What matters is a promise made in this very establishment ten years ago.

Ten years ago, Jack and his almost-sweetheart made a promise that, if in ten years, they were still unhappy with their lives, they'd meet each other at this place and come back to one another. In a way, it's a ridiculously stupid promise, because they'd been best friends long before feelings had ever developed, but it had been something Mark had insisted on.

“We're going to different colleges with different plans and extremely different lives ahead of us,” Mark had said, seriously. “I want you in my life, Jack, I do. But I don't think...we're gonna be able to make it work. Not with the way things are right now. If in say, ten years, things haven't worked out and we don't like them...meet back here. And we'll try...something. I don't know. Does that make sense?”

Jack had been so stupidly in love that he'd agreed to such a promise, if only for the sake of his heart and perhaps the hope someday he'd get the one he wanted.

Mark hadn't been entirely wrong, though. Jack's life became grossly hectic once college started. He had switched his major halfway through, dated a few girls, and some guys, all which ended on good terms but still leaving him with an empty ache in his chest.

Now, settled into a job he'd always wanted, Jack is somehow still unhappy with this turn of events, and that's why he's sitting in this shitty diner and pretending that Mark actually remembers this dorky promise.

From what he's seen on FaceBook, Mark's getting on pretty well in life. He's on the cusp of publishing his first book, blissfully surrounded by friends Jack doesn't know the name of, doesn't recognize the faces of. There's no reason for Mark to be unhappy even if he does remember their promise, and no reason for him to waltz back into his life and proclaim feelings Jack has managed to somehow hold onto after all these years.

Drumming his fingers on table, he gulps down the rest of his mediocre coffee and drops a couple of bills on the table, combing his fingers through his green hair. It's about time he get home and get some sleep, or at least finish up his fifth run of Undertale, since sleep is something that tends to evade him these days.

He begins to stand when the bell above the door rings, and Jack looks up. A broad-shouldered person steps inside, covered by a long raincoat, before they shuck off the hood, closing an umbrella and setting it into the umbrella bin next to the door.

Jack normally would ignore them after this initial examination when they—it's a man—looks over at him. Their eyes meet for a brief second, and Jack's entire world tilts on its side.

It's not the person he remembers, but God help him, those eyes are definitely Mark Fischbach's.

He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. Mark stares back at him, as though surprised to see him there as well, and an uncomfortable few seconds pass between them before Mark walks over, almost in disbelief.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark says, and his voice has deepened significantly since they had last talked. “Jack?”

A select few people know his given, childhood nickname. These days, most people refer to him as Sean—he's since stopped giving out the nickname to people. Old friends like Felix and Marzia and Ken call him Jack—but no one else.

“Mark Fischbach,” he replies, and a laugh escapes him against his wishes. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

It sounds pretty rude coming out, but from the way the cheap light from the hanging lamps dance in Mark's eyes, he knows he doesn't mean it that way. In fact, he finds it pretty amusing, apparently, because a soft snicker escapes him, as though remembering a fond memory. Perhaps he is.

“I made a promise, didn't I?” Mark says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ten years ago? When we were, what, sixteen?”

“You were seventeen,” Jack corrects, sliding back into the booth. “I was the dumpy sixteen year old. God, I—I can't believe you remembered.”

“I can't believe you remembered,” Mark counters, taking a seat across from him.

Jack almost can't believe he's really here, alive and well and here on a promise that hadn't even been binding. He wants to pinch himself, just to verify he's not dreaming. But he doesn't. That'd probably be weird.

“You...remember the rules of the promise though, don't you?” Jack inquires. “I—I kinda thought you were doing pretty well in life. You seemed like you...had everything worked out.”

Mark has the decency to look thoughtful. “I can't say I'm unhappy with my life. But there's...there's been something missing for a while. I dropped out of my engineering program that I had my heart set on since I was like 6, and I took up more writing and literature classes. It's much more freeing and in a couple of weeks, my first book will be out to the public. Just getting the okay from my editor right now.”

Jack nods. “That's—that's honestly really incredible. Meanwhile there's me, who switched majors halfway through my program, and now I'm working in audio. Bunch of technical mumbo-jumbo, but it's nice, being able to work on something I love.”

“So why are you here?”

He swallows, offering a shrug. “I...I guess I'm like you. Something feels like it's been missing for a while. Guess I wanted to see if...something old could help me find it again.”

The rain outside continues to drizzle, and Jack wonders if maybe his words are too blunt, too straightforward. He's been holding onto this petty crush for ten plus years, consciously or not, and it's probably weird to Mark to realize the kid who liked him then still likes him now.

But Jack isn't blind, and he doesn't think Mark is, either. If Jack had loved Mark when he was an awkward, seventeen year old kid who still hadn't fully grown into himself, he sure as hell loved what he's seeing now. Mark's aged well—his late twenties have treated him well with a toned physique and a softer smile than he remembers.

Jack's torn between laughing and crying, honestly, because maybe it would've been better if Mark hadn't shown up at all.

“You know,” Mark says slowly, as if bringing him back to reality. “When we were kids, I...I always sort of liked you. But I was pretty scared of that.”

He looks up, and Mark's expression has gone a little anxious. “So I shoved it down and pretended it didn't exist. I wasn't comfortable with myself at all, certainly not with my feelings. But the last ten years has changed that. I've gotten a lot more sure in my own skin. Dated a lot of girls. Dated some guys, too.”

The last phrase is a bombshell, practically. Jack regards him skeptically. “And...?”

“And,” Mark mumbles, and his voice is gorgeous against the patter of the rain. “I've always wanted to ask you out on a date. If, you know, you want to.”

There isn't a lot of words that can describe how he's feeling, and it takes all of his energy to not gawk at him. Jack tries to keep the expression of cool calculation, but his insides are practically melting. His tiny, child's heart is screaming in elated happiness, the small teen part of him that still exists pumping his fists.

“I understand if you don't want to,” Mark babbles, and suddenly he's so nervous, and it's kind of adorable. “I mean. I was kind of an ass to you, telling you that...things wouldn't work. But I want to make it up to you and I'd...I'd like to spend the next ten plus years with you in my life, in whatever way you'll have me.”

Jack erupts in laughter, unable to contain it. He puts his face into his hands, because this whole situation is so funny to him, somehow. But he's so fucking happy to be hearing these words that it's incredible.

“Ten years is a little presumptuous,” Jack wipes at his eyes. “I do admire your ambition, though. But let's not get too ahead of ourselves. How does next Tuesday sound?”

Mark's smile is practically blinding. “Sounds fantastic.”

Jack puts his hand on the table, palm up, and Mark places his hand over his tentatively. It's warm against his skin, and his heart flutters. He knows his cheeks are red.

Jack rolls his eyes, contemplating ducking underneath the garden bench just to spite the man calling out his title. But he rears the corner too quickly, his eyes lighting up when they fall upon his face. He smiles, and Jack sticks his tongue out at him.

“You know I hate it when you call me that, Mark,” he reprimands, but scoots over anyway, allowing Mark to take a place next to him. “We're nearly equals, you and I. And even if we weren't, I wouldn't care. Call me Jack.”

Mark laughs, soft and quiet. “You'll have to forgive me, Jack. Such a hard habit to break. I've been calling you that since we met. The last I checked, though, knights and their princes aren't exactly equal.”

“If you recall, when we met, I told you to call me Jack anyway,” Jack reminds him, nudging him with his shoulder. “And they're equal enough. There are no titles between us. You know that. If there were, I'd be calling you Sir Marcus every time I greeted you.”

“Dear Lord,” Mark shakes his head. “Please don't ever. It wouldn't sound right, coming from you.”

Jack grins. “Fair enough. But only on the promise you'll call me Jack whenever you greet me, unless my parents are around. They hate the nickname.”

“Didn't they give you the nickname?”

“Yes,” Jack replies. “But that was when I was a child. Sean is much more suitable, now. More proper, and all that. Jack suits me better though, don't you think?”

Mark's hand moves towards his on the bench, then slowly, he intertwines their fingers. Jack sighs contently at the contact. “It suits you well. Though, Sean sounds just as lovely, for the record.”

“Don't you go getting any ideas,” Jack warns. “It's Jack to you, mister! Nothing else.”

The knight snickers, but holds his other hand up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Jack it is, then.” Jack nods, satisfied with the promise. He inclines his head up towards the sky, the orange and yellow mixing together as it bleeds into red at the horizon. It's gorgeous, he thinks, the way the sun can cause such a splash of color in the vast sky. He could sit out here forever.

Mark squeezes his fingers gently. Yes, he thinks. With Mark here, he could stay here forever.

But then, he remembers himself. The prince casts a look to his companion. “What were you going to ask me?”

Mark quirks a brow. Jack goes on, “You were calling for me.”

“Oh,” Mark hums. “I was just wondering where you were. It's my job to look out for you, you know. Was making sure you weren't getting up to anything you weren't supposed to. Though, obviously, my guess that you were in the gardens was correct.”

Jack snorts. “As if you could really stop me from doing what I wanted to.”

“I could so stop you!” Mark retorts indignantly. “...Or I would help you do it. Whatever keeps you safe, and all that. I look out for you, above anything. I'd do that even if it weren't in my job description.”

Jack flushes a bit, but hopes that it's covered by the quickly approaching dusk. He says, “Well, anyway. I'm glad you're here.”

He really is. Mark has been his knight since Jack chose him as his champion all those years ago. It had been when he was sixteen—and the kingdom's annual tournament was officially underway, and as a sixteen year old, Jack had been officially eligible to participate with a champion. That's the thing about being the youngest member of the royal family—he isn't anywhere in line for the throne, but he is still precious, a spare part of sorts, and they couldn't risk him getting killed in the tournament. For his elder brothers, it was a symbol of strength. For him, it had been too risky. So, if Jack wanted to be part of it at all, he had to choose a champion.

He'd chosen Mark. Mark had been new, not quite up to par with the rest of the knights, but there had been something in him. Jack had been enraptured by him from the moment he'd seen him, practicing out on the fields one morning, in the way that the sun shone in his eyes, a fiery passion unlike anything he'd seen before. He had fought with a grace unlike anyone else, as if there had been a purpose to every move, every thrust—as if he had a cause he had been willing to fight for to the end.

If there ever were a knight who sought only to do good for his kingdom and for others, it's Mark. Even then, fresh out of training, Mark had possessed that spark in him.

He and Mark had become quick companions, despite their differences in status. There was something between them that just clicked, and after a bit, Jack had asked Mark if he would be his champion, and Mark agreed.

Of course, there had been some struggle. Initially, his parents had wanted someone more well known to be his champion, but Jack had fought for him, and would have until his last breath.

And he hadn't disappointed. After Jack had chosen him, he burned through the ranks until he eventually came out on top, even besting his brothers. It had surprised everyone, but Mark's name had soon been known throughout the kingdom as Prince Sean's Champion Knight. It sticks, even today.

Though still a knight, Mark is Jack's unofficial caretaker. Even after the hype and glory that Mark received, he remains ever loyal to Jack He's sent with Jack anytime he leaves the kingdom, and he follows him around the palace grounds day and night. Not that Jack minds, to be fair. They have...a relationship of sorts, now. It hadn't been the easiest to get it started, because while there had been no denying their affection and attraction to one another, it's a risky gamble for a prince to be intimate with his subordinate. Even if he doesn't think of Mark, as such. But it all works, now, somehow, in their crazy little system. Behind closed doors, and in private, their lives are entirely different. The way they like it.

A touch to his face startles him. Jack looks over, and Mark gazes at him, running his thumb over his cheek tenderly. Jack leans into the touch, offering a smile in return. Even in the dusk, Mark looks radiant as ever.

“I'm glad to be here,” Mark mumbles.

He leans forward and kisses him gently, a gesture which Jack is eager to respond to. He wraps his fingers in the front of Mark's tunic, and only now does he realize Mark isn't in his normal, patrolling attire. But the realization is quickly forgotten when Mark deepens the kiss, cradling his face.

“I love you,” Jack whispers against his lips, and he feels Mark smile.

“And I love you, my prince.”

Jack groans, and Mark laughs outright, kissing him again in apology. He pulls away, then, resting their foreheads together. His warm breath ghosts over his cheeks, and Jack has never been more peaceful than he is right now, in the palace gardens with the only person that really matters to him.

Mark gives another quick kiss to his forehead before glancing up at the sky. The dark blue and black of the night is overtaking the color, swallowing it nearly whole. Only at the horizon does the faint traces of pink and red remain. Their fingers are still locked together, with no chances of letting go anytime soon. Jack is surprisingly okay with that.

“The sky is beautiful tonight,” Mark says. “I think my favorite part of the day is whenever the sun is just about to go away, because it seems the most brilliant. What about you?”

Jack lays his head on Mark's shoulder. Not bothering to look at the sky, or the sun anymore, he closes his eyes. “My favorite part of the day is whenever I can be with you, just like this. I don't care if the sun's at its highest or gone entirely. As long as I'm with you, I'm happy.”