Everything's Alright

Jack

I wake up at 8:06 in the morning on the couch in my living room. My stomach hurts, but I don't mind. I get up and make myself coffee. As I fire up my Keurig, I sit cross-legged next to it on the counter. I suddenly do something I find myself doing a lot recently, which is getting transfixed on one spot and thinking. Usually about something sad. I start to criticize myself.
'Mark thinks you're a fucking wreck,' a strange, demonic voice shouts, 'he doesn't like you. He only said yes when you asked because he felt sorry. It'd be better if you were gone.'
"Morning, you okay?" A voice says, startling me. I flail and fall off the counter, landing in a small puddle of Jack on my tiled kitchen floor. "Oh my god! I'm sorry!" Mark shouts. He hurries to help me up.
"It's good," I say, "It's not a long fall. I'm fine, by the way. I'm sorry." I say, looking at Mark. His large hands are still on my left bicep and right forearm. I'm wearing a long sleeved gray nightshirt and gray sweatpants. Mark is wearing long, flannel-printed pants and a gray v-neck. Mark pulls me off the floor and sets me upright.
"Hey, Mark, do you have any shows today?" I ask.
"No, I kind of came a day early." Mark replies.
"Do you wanna, like, spend the day together? Because I prerecord a lot of videos and I'm covered for the day. I mean, you don't have to! I'm just thinkin like yknow..." I trail off. Oh fuck, I need to stop doing that. 'Stupid,' I think to myself, 'Now he thinks you're weird...'
"Well, I was kind of hoping we could, actually." Mark says.
"Cool," I say, trying to play it off as no big deal. I think Mark almost bought it, but I saw a secret smile somewhere.