Really Mark? (adopted by Markiplier)

Unfortunately

The small suitcase you tugged around weighed you down as you walked. For miles. The fact that you wore mostly black meant the sun was also at your throat. The Nirvana shirt you wore didn't give you luck like it usually did. The only splash of color were your shorts, which still had black on them. They were green and black checkerboard, close enough. Even though it was sunny out the comfort of a jacket brought back memories. You wished to make even better ones with the Markiplier.

At the doorstep you were just as anxious as I would have been actually, but it's not about me, it's about you, reader-chan!

You fiddled with your hoodie strings hoping that somehow he would know you were here. Maybe this was a bad idea.

As you wished the door swung open, knocking you a step down. The lace of your chuck taylor's slipped under your shoe making you stumble backwards. The not so menacing fall seemed to grow greater by the second as the blood spilled out quicker.

Worst first memory ever. Well, shit.

A buzz was felt next to your thigh, must've been your phone. But, instead of waking up to see the small orphanage room you were used to, the blaring white light of a hospital room greeted you. "GOOD MORNING!" it practically screamed in your face as you open your eyes even the slightest bit. You had to get to your phone though, what if it was Mark?

You pushed yourself up, only to screech in agony at the scar you had planted on your scalp. You also hadn't kept in those cuss words you were just dying to scream. The nurse you hadn't seen in the corner bashfully waltzed out of the room.

Mark: You awake yet? Tell me you're okay.

Mark: Yo! It's been two days! You are okay right?

Mark: (Y/n)! Please answer me! I'm sorry okay?!

Holy shit! You had been in the hospital for three days! ASLEEP! Man, I wish I could sleep that long. You had to text Mark, now. He'd probably exploded by now. Wait, how did he get your number?!

You: Um, yes, I'm fine. Sorry, I just woke up. Just a question... how did ya get my #?

It was literally five seconds later when he replied;

M: How do you sleep that long?!

Y: I had a goddamn concussion, what do you expect?

M: I dunno rly. I guess im overprotective.

Y: Tell me about it.

M: Dont use that tone with my young lady.

Y: Im 17! I can do what ever I want Fishbach!

M: Ok then, I dont want any boys in the house

Y: Rly?! I wake up from a coma, and that's what you tell me?!

M: Markiplier's advice of the day!

Y: Is this weekly, or a one time thing?

M: You tell me

Y: Hey! Its not my fault I couldnt knock on your goddamn door!

M: That nervous eh?

Y: Actually yes. Now are you proud of me?

M: I dunno. How good are you at scrubbing dishes?

Y: Mark, I did not ask you to adopt me to be a maid. you have enough money, go buy one!