Who knows what love is amirite? Not me. Love is said too much in this story lmao Im sorry

Request will be up soon, I want to perfect it.

Love.

Jack often wondered what love was, he didn't know what it was like to see someone and your heart to swell. He never knew what it was like to meet someone and have butterflies in your stomach every time you saw them, At least that's what he thought.

Mark however knew exactly what that felt like, infact he felt that towards a certain green haired man - yet this green haired man never knew that because he didn't know what love was like; but Mark did. Love was like handing a killer a knife and telling them to stab you with the knife gave you - but love is also, the killer dropping the knife and never stabbing you with it. A grim way to think about it, perhaps. They sat on the couch, watching The Flash, it was season one finale and Jack was laying on the leather couch next to Mark, Jack was so into the season he'd sometimes yell at the TV Making the red headed man jump but then his heart nearly burst out of his chest, as he was so into the episode, he never noticed Mark was staring.

Truth was, The Irishman looked so adorable, Mark wished he couldve took a photo and saved it forever. He was starring at him with such love and admiration he hadn't noticed the episode ending. Not caring by now, he just wanted to watch the Irishman forever.

Jack coughed, "Mark?" The red headed man snapped out of it, blushing. "Sorry, Do you want hot chocolate?" He asked The green haired man who nodded, smiling. Mark always treated Jack nicely when he was in L.A. Which wasnt often enough for Mark, he wanted to see Jack all the time. He wanted Jack to catch up staring, and stare back. He wanted to brush his fingers against the Irishmans boney ones; to hold his hand so tight that maybe then he'd know.

Throughout the night, Mark seemed to laugh harder at Jacks jokes, and stare at him more. It was until they touched hands for a moment that everything hit Jack like a truck.

Love.

Mark loves him.

The hot chocolate with extra cream,

The staring.

The admiration.

The laughter

The smiles.

Love.

Jack gasped without knowing it and softly asked;

"Mark?"

"Yes, Jackaboy?"

"Do You love me?"

Mark froze and started to panic. no. no. NO. He wasn't expecting this! He couldn't tell him now, could he? How could he have been so careless to ruin everything so easily?

He barely managed a nod, he didn't want too but it was now or never he decided and Jack smiled, his green hair covering his eyes.

"Show me what love is." Jack muttered.

And oh god, Mark did.

He'd hug Jack when he was making coffee in the morning, tell him he was beautiful as soon as he saw him in the morning - even though his hair was sticking up and his accent was so strong he needed to speak slow, just in case Mark didn't understand. They'd go to parks and Mark would pick the pretties flower their, the one that stood out against the vibrant grass almost the color of Jacks hair. Even though, the flower would never be as pretty as Jack, and he'd say that like the smooth criminal he was and Jack would laugh and nudge him, putting the freshly picked flower behind his ear. And finally, when Jack caught Mark staring, he'd stare back and observe Marks hazel eyes the way he'd have to blink from looking into Jacks eyes for so long. The way his mouth curved into a smile when Jack looked back. And finally, Mark would brush his fingers over Jacks and he'd take his hand and squeeze it just to say "I love you" without words. And Finally, Jack knew exactly what love was and every time someone asked "Whats love to you?" He'd say it was Mark; Love was Mark. The way he looked at him in the morning, the way he'd hug him.

Love.