thank u guys all so much for the kind words of support. i really appreciate it all. 3 ive been feeling a bit better so i managed to write this (on the day of a major presentation haha)

Chapter 6: Uhhhh,

"Mark?"

Jack couldn't believe his eyes. He was definitely tripping, right? There surely wasn't Mark fucking Fischbach standing on his porch out there in the freezing cold in the middle of the night?

"Can I come in?" Mark prompted while Jack stood there like a statue.

"Wh-wha yeah, yeah of course!" Jack stammered nervously, backing up to finally usher his friend in. Mark grabbed his suitcase and shuffled in as Jack shut the door behind him. The two stood there awkwardly in the foyer, Mark trying to catch his breath and Jack trying to control his. Both were unsure of what to say or how to say it.

It seemed like Jack was the one that had to break the silence. "Um, no offense, Mark. But what the bloody hell are you doing here?" His voice cracked, and Mark frowned.

"I came as soon as I could," Mark replied simply with a shrug.

Jack raised a brow. "Okay, yeah. That doesn't tell me anything."

"Well," Mark avoided Jack's piercing gaze, opting instead to look around the dark, bare apartment. "What can I say? I was worried about you."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't. He wanted to tell Mark that he didn't have to worry, but his thoughts drifted to what he had done to himself not an hour before Mark appeared at his door. Besides, Mark had taken a fucking plane, several planes probably, all the way to Ireland to visit him. It was too late to shoo him away, especially since Mark had gone through all the trouble to get here. Instead of offering a rebuttal, Jack sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"For making you worry."

The silence dragged on, both men shifting uncomfortably on their feet.

"I could, uh, make you some hot chocolate or something?" Jack suggested.

Mark's face lifted with a smile. "I would like that."

"Take yer shoes off and make yerself comfortable, then," Jack instructed, clapping Mark on the shoulder and making his way to the kitchen. As he was grabbing two packets of instant hot chocolate from the pantry, Jack saw a thin line of spiders crawling up the wall. "Oh, no."

"Everything okay?" Mark's worried voice sounded from the living room.

"Y-yeah! Everything's fine." His voice sounded way too shrill and high-pitched to be believable. Huffing, he shut the pantry door, several of the small arachnids falling off the wall from the force of the slam. He stomped over to the stove, bringing a pot to boil. Jack stood there, waiting for the water to boil, intensely staring at it. Yet… It wasn't boiling.

"Jack?"

Jack nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out what he would consider a completely unmanly shriek.

"Woah! Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Mark said hurriedly, backing up a few steps to give Jack some much needed space.

"Phew! You- uh, gave me quite a fright there buddy." Jack let out a shaky laugh, putting his hand over his wildly beating heart for emphasis.

"I was going to say, the stove isn't turned on…" Mark pointed towards the dial, which was indeed, still off.

Jack wanted to scream at his own stupidity. How was he so fucking focused on watching a pot of water that wasn't even going to boil? What the hell was wrong with him? Fucking Benadryl. He let out another nervous laugh, regretting taking all those pills as he turned the knob to high heat. Mark continued to observe him, albeit a little suspiciously. The walls melted around them, the cream dripping like slime and landing on the linoleum with a sickening squelch. Jack honed in on the puddles, which turned a dark, regrettably familiar red.

"Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Mark asked immediately.

The puddles of blood. There were still literal puddles left in the bathroom from earlier that Jack has been to lazy to clean. A bead of sweat ran down his temple. His breathing picked up again. He had to go clean it up before Mark found out. "I need to take a piss!" He yelled, dashing out of the kitchen as if his life depended on it. His injured leg instantly flared up, pain spreading through him and forcing him to limp the rest of the way to the bathroom. "Keep an eye on the water!" He didn't turn back to see if Mark stayed or not, too set on getting to that room as soon as he could.

Somehow he made it to the bathroom, Jack nearly slamming the door behind him. The sharp, metallic stench of blood assaulted his nose, and Jack covered his mouth, gagging. There was so much blood all around him, so much, and he just couldn't take it. His head was throbbing, the room spinning and dripping red all around him.

Jack dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, purging all the pills he had taken. He coughed harshly, hacking up all the little pink pills and bile he had in him. Snot and tears ran down his face, combining with the sweat and forming a disgustingly sticky mixture. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and Jack covered them both tightly with a quiet whimper.

"Make it stop…"

He wasn't sure when Mark had entered the room, but Jack suddenly became aware of a pair of muscular arms wrapped securely around him. "Jack. Jack, shhhh. I've got you now."

As that calming tone registered in his mind, Jack lost it. He began sobbing, clawing onto Mark's sweater as though he would vanish at any second. There was no use hiding it now. It was pretty obvious what Jack's secret was, the two kneeling on the black towel soaked through with his blood. His cries sounded so weak and pitiful to his own ears, but it only made Mark tighten his grip on the other. Jack responded by scooting closer, burying his head in the juncture of Mark's neck and shoulder. A strong, but gentle hand smoothed down his green locks.

"I'm here, Jack. You're safe now."

Those words were so incredibly comforting. It was something that Jack had yearned to hear but denied himself. He didn't think he deserved it, hell, he still doesn't. But with the two holding onto each other for dear life, Jack could honestly care less.

Eventually his raw sobbing settled down to mere sniffles. Mark continued running his hand through his hair, and Jack found it oddly soothing. He slowly released his grip on the back of Mark's sweater, lifting his head from its resting spot on the other man's neck. Mark's hand ceased moving immediately, opting instead to bring it down to hold onto Jack's side.

Sniffling again, Jack let out a broken laugh. "Yer shoulder's a mess," he pointed out. His tears and snot were everywhere, and he couldn't help but feel a bit bad for crying so hard on his friend. The friend, who he had practically been straddling for the past ten minutes or so while he had his break down. His laugh turned sheepish this time.

"I can always wash it," Mark reassured with a shrug, and it was just the comforting thing that Jack needed. His hand moved up, stroking Jack's back lazily and affectionately.

"Srry-" Jack broke off his an abrupt hiccup.

"I don't mind." He squeezed Jack's arm tenderly.