Appointment

House Call

Mark ran. Running and running, dodging cars, people, trees. Looking for Jack. But the pale man was nowhere to be found. No. Mark had to find him. Because if he didn't, then Jack might jump.
He couldn't let that happen.
It started to rain.
Mark checked everywhere around him, glancing fearfully at the rooftops. Nobody was up there. An hour of searching. He couldn't have gone far. Where was he? Was he already dead?
"Jack, it's okay, I'm okay, please, just... Be okay." Mark whispered, panting from all the exertion. The way Jack had looked at the cuts...that was the look Madeline had given him at her last appointment. Scared. Scared of herself. Tired. Tired of going through all this. Worried. Worried she'd just hurt more people if she kept moving on. Curious. Curious to see if the world would be a better place...without her in it.
It wasn't. Mark hoped she knew that now.
"JACK!" He shouted in desperation, slumping against a wall. He was breathing heavily, a hopeless look starting to appear in his tired eyes. He must be too late by now. Too late to save him.
"Fuck it. He's dead." Mark decided, laughing bitterly. He didn't know where to find him. Where to even start looking. So he just gave up. Tired of trying, when he knew he'd just find a corpse if he kept looking. He didn't even bother to get out of the rain.
It was raining heavily now, and nobody could see that Mark was crying. They all walked by, paying no heed to a man on a street corner burying his head in his hands. The drops rinsed the tears away, and Mark was left feeling empty and exhausted.
Stumbling into a loud bar, Mark sat on a barstool and watched his sopping wet shirt drip a puddle onto the counter.
"Want anything?" The bartender asked, and Mark shook his head. What was he doing here? He can't even drink alcohol. Maybe he thought he could get drunk off the atmosphere. Laughing at his own idiocy, he stood up off the stool. As he started to head for the door, he was bumped by a massive rush of people. Must be college students or something, all out together. He waded his way through them, managing to stay inside as they all clambered out the door into the rain, laughing loudly. Mark glanced boredly back towards the bar. Then he noticed something.
Nearly invisible. Dwarfed and hidden by the huge biker-looking man in front of him. Sitting on a barstool, on the other side of the room, was Jack.
All of a sudden Mark's emotions came flooding back.
Mark didn't stop to think of wonder if it really was Jack. He just tore straight for him, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around. He almost cried in relief when he saw it was indeed Jack.
"Mark?" Jack tilted his head.
"Yeah, it's me. Are you okay? I-I was looking for you, I thought...something happened..." Mark said nervously. Jack shook his head.
"Nah, I'm fiiiiin~e. Don't...worry 'bout me..." He replied, swaying slightly.
"Wha...hey...wait...Jack?" Mark looked worried.
"Huuuu~h?" Jack grinned.
"Wait. How many drinks, exactly, did you have?" Mark asked, a pit of dread in his stomach.
"I 'unno. Like, fffffffff-seven. Yeah, like seven. Beer is yummy." Jack slurred, hiccuping.
"Oh god, Jack..." Mark pinched the bridge of his nose in distress and irritation.
"Whaaat? All the tall buildings are closed. No jumping for me today." Jack smiled sadly, and it scared Mark to know that he couldn't tell if Jack was joking or not.
"Please don't...say that..." Mark muttered.
"Why not? 'S the truth, ain't it? I'm tired of...keepin' hurting people. Lashing out cuz... I can't tell the difference between what's real an' what ain't. I should just...jump, ya know? Get it over with." Jack responded, slumping down onto the counter.
"Why didn't you ever get help?"
"Thought the insane asylum cured me."
"You went to an insane asylum?"
"...Then a ton of counseling. Thought I was better."
"But..."
"Kinda fucking obvious I ain't. Stop talking about it." Jack downed another can, then another, before exhaling slowly.
"Whoooo! That's what hits the spot there..." He chuckled drunkenly, spilling beer onto the counter.
"Ohhh, shit. Clean up on aisle -hic- four..." Jack laughed, nearly falling off his seat.
"Jack, you need to stop. We need to get you home." Mark said worriedly, propping Jack back up.
"SweeeEEET HOME ALABAMAAAAA! WHERE THE -hic- SKIES ARE BLUUUE!" Jack sang off-key, spinning around on his stool. Mark grabbed him to get him to stop, and he nearly fell over. Stumbling away from the counter, he followed Mark's gentle, guiding hand, bumping into a few people on the way.
"Come on. We're getting you a cab." Mark said quietly. The shorter male grinned.
"Waaaaaaaaawwww, thanks so much!" He slurred happily, clutching onto Mark.
"I-it's fine. What's your address?" Mark asked, figuring he'd have to walked Jack into his own home. The man could barely stand, good god.
"Ohhhh, ya ain't never supposed to fuck a guy after the first date, siiiiiiiiiiir." Jack teased, patting Mark's face. Mark blushed brightly, shaking his head.
"I-I NEVER MEANT THAT, I-I WAS JUST-just asking in case you needed help taking care of yourself."
"I can take care of my-hic-seeeeeelf just fine. Unless you wanna help...?" Jack raised an eyebrow suggestively, and Mark adamantly shook his head.
"Jack, cmon, you're drunk. Just lay low and tomorrow morning you can figure it all out."
"Mmkayyyyyyy." Jack slumped against Mark, burying his head in his chest. The American blushed, patting Jack's green hair softly. A few minutes later, Mark managed to hail a cab and nudged Jack into it.
When they arrived at Jack's house, they disembarked and Jack stumbled towards the front door. With unsteady hands, he tried to put the key in the keyhole. He missed terribly, jabbing at his door. Mark sighed, taking the keys from him and easily unlocking the door.
Jack smiled smugly, though he had nothing to do with it, and wobbled into his house. Mark steadied him, sighing quietly.
"Come on, let's get you to sleep." Mark said gently, as if talking to a young toddler. Jack shook his head.
"I-I aaaaaain't tired." He declared angrily, sticking his tongue out.
"Jack, listen-"
"N-no, you can't ma-hic-maaaaake me." Jack slurred, shoving uselessly against Mark's chest. Mark sighed, rubbing his face.
"Why do I bother..." He complained. Jack shrugged.
"I dunno. Cuz you ain't want me jumpin'. I don' wanna jump. Nah really. It ain't fun if ya live. You're trying ta keep me alive. But why?" Jack countered.
"...because it's not right for anyone to drive themselves to ruin, so much that they end their own lives." Mark sighed.
"Theeeeeeeere ya go. Now -hic- thaassss how you do it." Jack pat Mark on the back.
"Okay. I've answered your question, so now will you just go to sleep?" Mark replied.
"Oh-kaaaaay. Hey, I love you." Jack declared suddenly.
"Wh-what?" Mark blushed, shaking his head.
"N-no, Jack, you're just drunk..."
"Oh. But... I thought... You loved me too?" Jack tilted his head, his eyes unfocused. Mark hurriedly shook his head.
"No...I just...you're my patient, I never..." He said quickly.
"Nothin's ever wrong with a little bit of sexy times." Jack teased.
"WHAT? No, Jack, I need to-" Mark was cut off by Jack kissing him sweetly. He pushed him away, looking nervous.
"Jack, don't! I don't love you." Mark said firmly, feeling a pang in his heart.
Jack frowned, looking sad.
"I'm sorry. I really thought..."
"Why? What makes you think that..."
"I could see it in your eyes. At least, I thought I did."
"...I don't. Whatever you saw, I don't have it."
"Oh. Okay." Jack sighed in regret, feeling stupid that he'd tried something like that.
"I don't...no, I don't..." Mark repeated, trying to convince himself. But his heart kept thudding, trying to tell him something.
"Look, I fucking get it. You don't, okay? Great. Glad you found out. I'm tired. I'm going to bed." Jack growled, pissed off and embarrassed. He started to stomp away, but was stopped by Mark's arm.
"Jack?" Mark whispered, eyes on the ground.
"What." Jack replied, irritated.
"I don't. I'm not supposed to. Its wrong. I don't...but...do I?" He said quietly, his eyes desperate for an answer. Jack's voice softened.
"I don't know. I thought you did. But why is it so wrong?" He asked quietly.
"I...I can't. It's...two guys...I'm not...I-I'm not gay..." Mark said nervously.
"I don't. I'm not." Why did it hurt so much every time Mark said that? His chest felt tight, and tears were threatening to spill over. He didn't want to know why. He didn't want to know, because that would be admitting something he didn't want to. He'd fallen in love with someone and hadn't even known it.
Jack waited patiently for him to come to terms with it. It was a hell of a lot of stuff to process in a few minutes.
"Jack?" Mark called again. Jack tilted his head.
"I...what if I am?"
"Do you think you are?"
"I-I might be, I don't know, maybe..."
"If ya were, would ya kiss me?"
"What?" Mark blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"...yes."
"And do ye want to?"
"...yes."
"Then ya are."
"But-but how can it be that simple?"
"Gay just means you're a dude who likes dudes. Ain't that difficult."
"I know, but...its...are you?"
"Sounds stupid, considerin' the shit I went through, but yeah, I am."
"Then...can I kiss you?"
"You won't push me away again?"
"I..."
"If ye cain't gimme an answer, I'm not gonna kiss ya. It hurts when you push me away."
"I'm sorry. I don't...I don't know." Mark said quietly. Jack sighed.
"Okay. I get it. I still love you, though."
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Mark went home when Jack fell asleep. Jack took an entire bottle of painkiller the next day. He was found in a coma by his neighbors, who called an ambulance. The ambulance arrived in time to save his life, but he hasn't woken up yet.
He doesn't want to.
Mark visits him in his hospital room every day.