This story has somewhat mature themes; Suicide, Self-harm, Depression and Anxiety. If you suffer from any of these things, read at your own risk.

The song is "Just Like a Pill" by P!nk. (Video)

"I'm lyin' here on the floor where you left me."

They had faught. The two 'perfect lovers' had faught, again. Not a surprise, considering Mark always seemed to be screwing something up. And now, he was here, on the floor. Again.

"I think I took too much."

His arms were, once again, covered in scars. He could remember their fight so vividly, why? Maybe because it happened less than two hours ago. And Jack was already on a flight back to Ireland, so there was no way that he'd be able to help the half-Korean.

"I'm cryin' here, what have you done?"

"Mark, we need to talk."

Mark looked at the Irishman standing in the doorway, he was holding a pair of black underwear in his hands; female, from the looks. "What is THIS?"

"Why are you asking me?" Mark rebutted.

"YOU'RE the only one here who's ever had a fookin' problem with monogamy!" Jack screamed, throwing them on the floor. "I'm never fookin' good enough fer ye, am I? No, ye've got ta fuck the next girl ya see!"

"I thought we were past this!" Mark exclaimed in annoyance, growling. "I've not cheated on you in months." That was true, he had been getting better.

"Well, then how d'you explain those?" Jack pointed at the underwear on the ground. "Ye can't, can ye?!"

"No, Sean, I-"

"DON'T fockin' call me that, ye stupid American bastard. I shoulda listened t'my brother, yer nothin but trouble!"

"Sean- I-I mean, Jack, no, please- I'll do anything!"

"I'm not fookin' hearin' it. I don't care what ye've got t'say, I'm done." Jack was obviously seething. "I've been puttin' up with yer bullshit fer months. I'm just lucky ye haven't pressured me into anything, yet!"

Mark could feel the tears starting to form in his eyes as the Irishman grabbed a bag and started throwing things into it. "I'm movin' back t'Ireland. I don't want t'here from ye again, Fischbach."

The next thing Mark new, the door was slammed shut.

"I thought it would be fun."

Tears stung Mark's eyes as he remembered the fight they'd had. But he didn't have the strength to wipe them away, so he simply let them fall. And once the started falling, he couldn't stop them.

"I can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch."

He felt his breathing start to shallow as his vision darkened, this made him laugh. 'This is what you wanted, isn't it Jack?' Mark thought to himself, hysterical. 'It's everything else all over again.'

"I can't stay on your morphine, cause it's makin' me itch."

Mark was in the bathroom, vomiting blood. Not even an hour ago, he'd swallowed the rest of his Anti-Depressants, Pain Killers, and Anxiety Suppressors. Bottles and pills were scattered everywhere.

"Mark, honey, I'm home! Where are ye?" He heard Jack call from the common room. Mark began to panic, he wasn't supposed to be home early.

"I came home early t'spend some tie wit'cha!" Mark suddenly vomited again, causing a startled yelp from the Irishman in the other room. "Mark, are ye feelin' alright..?" More vomiting. "..Mark..?"

Suddenly there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Mark, I'm comin' in. Are ye decent?" Mark just kept vomiting.

Jack came in, slowly, then screamed. "MARK? Oh my fockin' Jeasus, are ye okay?! What the fock happened?" Jack was by the half-Korean in an instant. "We've got t'get ye some help!" Jack quickly dialed 911.

"I'm tryin' to call the nurse again, but she's bein' a little bitch."

Mark laughed and cried more at the last memory. Jack had been there to save him, but who was here for him now? Nobody. And no one would miss him.

Jack had made it clear that he didn't care anymore. Wade and Bob were too busy to talk with him anymore. Everyone else had other people that they liked more.

And his subscribers? Not a single one of them would miss him. They all liked Jack more than him, anyway.

"I think I'll get outta here, where I can.."

He closed his eyes, his laugh almost being overpowered by his crying. The scars on his wrists were burning and bleeding, but no one could hep him. He couldn't even cry out for help.

But who would even hear him? And who would care?

"Run, just as fast as I can."

He couldn't even scream through his hysteria. Everything hurt. He felt like his soul was being ripped out of his body.

"To the middle of nowhere."

Mark couldn't even breathe anymore. He was wheezing, laughing, and crying. He felt like there was a fifty pound weight on his chest, and he couldn't get it off. It was worse than when he had his heart attack.

"To the middle of my frustrated fears."

'Am I dying?' Mark thought through all the pain. 'Is this what death really feels like?'

He'd been close, but never this close. He was scared, he didn't want to die. Not like this.

"And I swear, you're just like a pill."

He didn't want to be alone. He wanted someone else to hold him, to comfort him. He was so lonely, so scared, and in so much pain.

"Instead of makin' me better;"

Jack burst through the door, a look of terror on his face. He was by Mark's side as fast as lightning. "Mark? MARK! I'm so sorry! Please, you can't die on me now.."

"You keep makin' me ill,"

Mark let out a small chuckle. "I love you, Jack.." He forced out, rasping. He felt his chest collapse and his vision was gone. Suddenly, there was nothing.

Jack's eyes were watering. "Mark? Marky..? Please wake up.. I love you too.." He couldn't hold the tears back any longer, and he started bawling into his dead lover's chest, repeating, "Please wake up.."

"You keep makin' me ill."

This hurt me more than it hurt you.

I think.

Maybe.

Probably not.

But, thanks so much for reading! I'm not exactly very good at sad fics, and I never have been, so, I apologize. Anyway, I'll see all you guys in my next fic!