House Mates Au | Mandela Catalogue | {Rewritten}

2 U

The two sat on Cesar's couch quietly. The room silent filled with unspoken unease. Though it didn't particularly take a genuis to wonder why. They're both on edge after the whole ordeal with that creature, especially Mark. He swears he can hear it's voice in his head. He tried to pay it little mind and breaks the silence.

"Hey, Cesar?" Mark started, finally lifting his head slightly to look over at his friend. "Yes?" Cesar tilted his head to look at Mark. Raising a curious eyebrow. "Why did you save me?" Mark questioned.

Silence fell between the two for a couple of moments. An uncomfortable and akward silence. Before Cesar finally spoke, answering marks curious question.

"Because I care about you." Cesar started. The two have been friends ever since they met at church one day. They're like brothers. Cesar wants to say more, wants to say something with more weight, but he leaves it at that. They're both too far tired for any more emotional complexities today.

Yet another beat of silence passed. It never was like this before this whole incident. Any silence would usually be filled by Cesar talking or Mark making a sarcastic remark. The silence was never uncomfortable before. It was never like this before.

But a lot has changed, hasn't it, Heathcliff?

Mark shakes his head. The silence becoming unbearable. Cesar doesn't have the energy to fill it. So Mark does. He asks a simple question, that he was sure had a definitive answer. But now, his faith wavers. "Is there a god?" Mark asked. Cesar looked away. Seemingly unable to answer that question at the moment. At least while looking at Mark. Being aware of what has happened.

"I.. don't... I don't think so." Cesar started. He used to be so religious. But as he prayed and held onto his faith, it didn't seem to do him any favors. When he was first attacked that night, he threw the wooden cross he had hung up in his kitchen. He prayed. He scrambled to try and keep a hold of the rosary beads. Yet despite that, it didn't help.

His religion didn't save him

His god didn't save him.

He wasn't saved.

"But if there was.. I don't think he would've let this happen." Cesar added after a hesitant pause. He can't be so doubtful. He needs to be strong as he and Mark recover.

Silence seemed to fall over the night, neither having much to say. So they went to bed a little while later. Both of them needing the rest.

But at the late hours, Mark couldn't sleep. There was a nagging feeling preventing him from doing so. He stumbles out of bed, his body feeling strangely weak. He persists though. Taking deep breaths. Repeating affirmations in his head that he can do this.

(Even if he has less faith in himself than he has in god.)

That same damned voice kept speaking in Mark's brain. Kept on repeating phrases that seemed to morph together. Mark couldn't make sense of it even if he tried. He manages to get to the bathroom. He felt the urge to look in the mirror- just to make sure he's real. And that he's alone. Nothing nearby. Nothing around.

His worries ease a bit as he grips the kitchen sink and stares into the clean mirror. Though he feels a strange sense of guilt. He feels alone. And in a way he hadn't expected.

Being alone was meant to be a good thing. It meant he wasn't in danger.

But he just feels so conflicted. He has Cesar, his friend, why is he so.. empty? He can't make sense of it. But there's not much to make sense of these days anyways. His eyebags are visible. He really should go back to sleep. But it's not like that damn voice will allow him to. He feels his sanity slip yet again.

But he has to hold himself together. "No use in crying over the past." He thought to himself. Though he knew that saying was bullshit. You have every right to greive.

And it feels like a million realizations hit him at once. He's alive. So is Cesar. They survived an alternate. But Cesar's mother is gone. She's dead. Mark wonders how Cesar is holding up so well? If it were him and he had a better relationship with his patents, he'd be inconsolable.

Cesar loved his mom. He was a mama's boy, to put it simply. And Mark hated that sometimes jealousy would well up in him, wishing his mother cherished him as much as Cesar's mother cherished her son. Now isn't a time to think of that. Cesar would probably slap him for feeling jealous now of all times.

Mark thinks Cesar is the strongest man he knows. Bravest, too.

And after all that thinking and sudden rush of a realization of his own mortality, he feels tired. The voices in his head just dull background noise. He retreats back to his room, shutting off the bathroom light behind him. He gets in bed, and tries to ignore the feeling of dread.

"Why won't you listen to me, foolish mortal? Have you abandoned your religion that easily?"-

A/n : sorry for small chapter, I'm splitting up chapter two into two chapters instead of one. The mashing together of the events was kinda iffy in the og story... and this shi wasn't proof read!!! I'm eepy:((