First-Person: Yamimash

I barely heard him come in the house. It was only when I heard his not-at-all quiet footsteps that I froze. But then again, how on earth can I explain this mess when he would inevitably find me? There aren't any sane, logical reasons that I could give him to explain all this away. There just isn't any. But, it's his fault. I didn't even tell him he needed to come over!

I guess, in my mind, I knew the truth. He didn't come over just because he thought he needed to... He came over because he thought I needed him. What kind of fucked up love story is this?! Last I checked, Juliet didn't have major depressive issues (well, at least not at first) and Romeo didn't have to charge in (literally charge in) and save her all the time, since she (in this situation) apparently has self-confidence issues. I'm the male-equivalent of alternate Juliet, and Mark is the definition of Romeo. At least, to me.

Holy shit, what kind of thing am I on?

I tried to stay as quiet as was possible, though I could feel the blood soaking into my shorts. But a small, tiny giggle broke through. And then the involuntary blubbering. And finally, the nonsensical, hysterical ramblings that spewed out of my mouth. I really am a mess, aren't I? Yes, I thought. Yeah, I guess I am a huge, disastrous, dangerous, and poisonous mess. Mark shouldn't be forced to be within even ten feet from me.

''Yami? Yami, can you hear me? What's-''

I wasn't even listening to what he was saying. Something about breaking down my bathroom door or something. But I honestly just don't care anymore. Distraught and teary, I tried to speak, and tell him to go away. To tell him that I didn't need him. To plead for him to leave me alone. It came out hoarse, and was barely heard in my ears. Before long, I could feel tears spilling over, and I closed my eyes so I wouldn't feel its salty sting. I hoped to God Mark went away. I hate being so fucking emotional! It's like a living hell!

No matter what I wanted, I knew that just behind the other side of that wooden door, Mark was there. Banging on the door. My eyes were still closed, just like a game of 'If you can't see me, I can't see you'. But just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it isn't there. So, against all the hope in my body, Mark didn't 'magically' disappear. Far from it. ''Open this door or I swear to God I will-''

''THEN DO IT! JUST STOP TALKING!'' I screamed, but my vocal cords were too worn right now. I ended up just doing a weak yell. But it was enough, I know. It was definitely enough. Already the I could feel the world getting a little blurry around the edges, a bit more distorted. If I didn't know any better I would say that by the sound of it, Mark just burst through the door...What a convincing delusion.

Which made it that much harder to accept what was happening.

''Yami...'' I heard him say. I didn't dare open my eyes. It would just make me lash out again, and I knew it.

''Ma'k...'' Hah, I guess Karma's a real bitch. I did this to myself. I deserve it all.

I vaguely registered that he was carrying me. All I felt was a lightness I hadn't felt in a long time. Seems like ages ago. In another time, another place. I was almost tempted to say, 'Am I dead yet?', but instead, I kept my mouth shut. No need to make this more melodramatic than it already is. No need to say anything, actually.

''It's okay Yami, it's okay. You're gonna be okay. We are gonna be okay. The...cuts, aren't that deep, I don't think...''

Sweet nothings were continuously whispered in my ear. Nice try, Mark. Maybe you should waste your breath somewhere else. Don't waste your time on something that's already broken.

"Believe me, you aren't broken, you just need a little bit of super glue, buddy. And I am not wasting my breath, especially if I know you can hear me. You'll be okay." He said. Did I say that out loud? Well, if I can't even control my emotions, I can't expect to control my mouth either, can I? Especially when everything hidden starts to bubble to the surface. I've suppressed my emotions long enough, I suppose.

I recognized my couch when I felt the worn, but soft texture of it. How nice.

Finally, out of nowhere, I opened my eyes. And when I saw him carrying a small wet towel in one hand, a dry one in the other, and my trusty box of band aids perched precariously in between the two, it suddenly hit me.

What have I done?!

First-Person: Markiplier

What the hell do I do?

That was my first thought. My second:

What the hell has HE done?!

Out of all things, I did not expect this. To see him on the floor like that. To see him slowly close his eyes. To see him break down in a heap. My -no, he's not mine, never was- Yami all empty-like. I nearly wanted to cry myself incoherently too, because this was all a very horrible nightmare that I had to wake up from. Except...It's not.

After a second of deciding, I just lifted him up into my arms. I caught a glimpse of his closed eyes before his head rolled back. The living room was closest, so I would be able to set him on that old couch of his, while I could go look for first aid stuff. I like this plan, it's solid, it's easy. If only I wasn't so shaky and nervous and panicking. To occupy my mind, I let whatever I wanted to say come out of my mouth, without abandon.

''You'll be okay, Yami. You'll be fine. Can you hear me? Can you hear my 'awesome' voice? Come on, say something. Anything. Please.'' I quickly looked at his face for progress. My feet were frozen on the same tile floor, and I tried to not look at the red 'mess' on it. He has to say something.

''It's okay Yami, it's okay. You're gonna be okay. We are gonna be okay. The...cuts, aren't that deep, I don't think,'' I said, loudly and clearly.

''Don't waste your breath Ma'k, especially on something that's already so broken,'' He whispered. I pulled a shaky smile on my face and then slowly moved out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

''Believe me, you aren't broken, you just need a little bit of super glue, buddy. And I am not wasting my breath, especially if I know you can hear me. You'll be okay,'' I said, using my recording voice for an added effect. I'm Markiplier. Hero of awesomeness and Warfstaches. So how come my knees were so shaky when I finally let go of Yami on the couch?

Making sure he was seated upright, I bolted to the bathroom again. The whole time his wounds were still bleeding, although not as much. All my research on the topic gave me a few pointers. I would need two towels, one wet with water and the other perfectly dry. Check, I said to myself when I hurriedly shut off the sink. Secondly, I would need big band aids. Similar to 'heavy artillery' compared to those tiny 'Spongebob' ones that barely stuck on. What rip-offs those were...Anyways, I scanned through the cabinet under the sink, knocking over a few things. A box of band aids. The kind that I needed.

Yami was patiently waiting on the couch. Or rather, it looked like he was patiently waiting, since it appears he hasn't even moved a muscle since I left the room.

Once he saw what I had in my hands, he just stared straight ahead. He didn't complain, nor pay attention really when I moved the wet towel over the various cuts on his left arm. An eerie silence seemed to grip us both. I truthfully didn't know what to say, or even if there was anything to say. I didn't know about him though. Was he mad? Angry? Or-

Or maybe he's frustrated with you for trying to help when he clearly didn't need it.

I wanted to almost hit my head when that traitorous thought broke through. It almost made me freeze up. But nevertheless, I continued cleaning it with the cuts with the wet towel, then gently drying it with the other. My hands were almost excruciatingly trying to be gentle, but since he had a blank face on, I couldn't tell if it hurt at all or not. For a person who's getting taken care of, it's almost as if he's deliberately trying to make it hard on me. Well... Nevermind. That's definitely not true, and I know it. I may not have the slightest idea what'a going on in that British head of his, but I'm damn sure that whatever it is, it isn't good. What makes a person harm themselves? To want to do this? Was I not there for him? Did he even need me?

''Ouch.''

''Oh, sorry! I'm, uh, just trying to clean it up al little, pal. Bandages are next, so it's not over,'' I responded. His brown eyes finally looked around; at the room, at the couch, at the wounds...just not at me. At least he wasn't staring at the wall like he was earlier, so that is something that I have to be grateful for.

The bandages weren't hard to put on. In the end, all he needed was three huge bandages and a tiny small one. No biggie. I almost felt like a doctor, actually. Surgeon Simulator, anyone? ''All better, Yami. Nothing to worry about. So, would you mind -oh, I don't know, explaining a bit?''

His face started to blush a little bit, but he still kept his head down. After a pause, I sat down next to him, because for one; It seemed appropriate, and two; The in between pose between half kneeling yet not touching the floor was uncomfortable. There were no harsh movements, and no quick words. I kept staring at him, refusing to look away. Finally, I heard a sigh escape from his lips.

''It all started...with you.''

A.N:

Hello Moustachians! Updates may take longer since my prewritten story kind of ends here. But no worries! I'll write the other chapters one way or another. And sorry if this chapter may seem to move along slowly, it's just that I wanted to capture the 'angst' that I feel should be all over this chapter! XD . Thank you for your awesome reviews and support! As always, they are appreciated! :)