@Dustin
Mark’s yawn was huge mouth stretched wide as he almost literally deflated, he slumped in the wheelie chair that was moulded to his shape from over 12 hours of being wired in, his headphones lay resting next to his keyboard and the urge to never move was creeping up on him. Although he didn’t want to have Wardo on his back about staying in the chair again, he usually had to haul Mark out of it and make sure he didn’t fall over when they made their way to either the couch or his bedroom depending on how mobile he was. Repetitive Strain injuries were a nightmare. He rolled his shoulders wincing at the loud cracks his shoulder blades made then continued popping every single finger on each hand twice, finally he pushed his jaw to the right all the tension being released from his spine in a sound that rivalled a champagne cork being popped.
He braced his hands against the arms of the chair his elbows creaking in protest but holding firm as he heaved himself up onto his legs which threatened to not cooperate and buckle. Mark gritted his teeth and began a slow shuffle to the living room oversized sweatpants drowning his skinny form. He wasn’t really sure what the time was but he assumed that Dustin and Chris would be asleep- that was usually what happened after he’d been on a binge. It was comforting that he had everything done though, so it was worth it. He leant heavily against the doorframe and was surprised to see Dustin holding a pillow in a vice grip face contorted in concentration, The Matrix dvd box lying open and empty on the couch next to him. Mark couldn’t help but smile.
“Why do you torture yourself like that?” he asks simply, his voice hoarser than he’d expected from lack of use.