Appointment

Final Appointment

Mark stopped his crying, rolled down his sleeves, and started to get up and leave. Then he felt like he was glued to the floor, and for some reason wasn't allowed to leave by an unseen force. Turning around, he saw Jack's eyelids flutter.
He raced to the side of the bed to see bright blue eyes staring up at him.
"Jack?" He whispered, almost unbelievingly.
"...hi." Jack replied, smiling gently.
"I...I...I have to tell someone...I have to tell the doctor, or-or someone-!" Mark was stopped by Jack's arm grabbing onto him limply.
"Please don't...leave yet." Jack said weakly. Mark briefly wondered if he meant leave the room or leave the planet. Jack himself was having trouble speaking, and he was so much frailer now that he'd been in a coma for so long.
Jack pulled his hand back, and there was a silent moment of communication between the two. Then the door opened and Mark quickly stepped away.
"Oh my goodness! Looks like he's finally come back to the land of the living, huh?" The doctor entered, smiling brightly.
"So glad to have you back, son. Let me just do a quick examination to make sure you're A-okay. You'll have to stay a few extra weeks here to get your proper nutrition. We've done our best, but you're still a little depleted. You might need a bit of physical therapy, too..." The doctor continued, and Mark tuned out, running a hand over his sleeves. Hiding his secret.
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It took another two weeks for Jack to come out of the hospital for good. The nurse was glad she wouldn't see Mark again. That meant that his friend was okay.
As they were driving back to Jack's place, he started to talk.
"The doctor told me that you came every week. From 3-4. That was my appointment time."
"Yeah. I know, it's cheesy, but...I thought maybe I could...coax you back to life."
"But I never heard anything." Jack said incredulously.
"Why did you start hearing me now?" Mark asked. Jack shrugged.
"I have no idea. Honestly. It was a stroke of luck. You told me either I was going to wake up or you were going to kill yourself. That was more than enough incentive to get my ass out of dreamland. But why did I just then start to hear you?"
"...I don't know. Fate or something, I guess? I'm just glad you're alive." Mark said quietly. Jack glanced at him, before doing a double take and really looking. Then he noticed the dark circles. And more. The dark circles, the twitch, the constant suppression of a yawn, the messy hair, dirty clothes, tired eyes.
"Mark...?" He whispered, but Mark refused to look at him.
"I'll tell you when we get to your house." Jack would've ordered an explanation immediately, but they were already almost home.
He scrambled into his house, using the keys he'd had in his pocket the day he had taken all the pills. The hospital had kept his belongings safe. He unlocked the door and held it open for Mark. He shut and locked it behind him, and tilted his head, his eyes pleading for an answer. Mark sighed, rubbing his face. He sat down in a nearby chair.
"Alright. First off. Coma. Um, your family could cover some expenses, but they've got people to feed and a roof to keep up, so of course they couldn't afford all of it. You have sucky-ass insurance, so that covered fuck-all. So. If your bills weren't paid, you couldn't stay. I paid 'em. Um. They were incredibly expensive. You needed a lot of shit to survive. So. Uh. I might have. Lost. My house." Mark said rigidly. A look of shock and guilt crossed Jack's face. Mark shook his head.
"No, it's okay. I... I can make it back once I find a job. I've been bumming it in motels so far, and I'm fine." Mark grinned, but the state of his clothes and his expression said otherwise. Jack gasped.
"You don't...even have your job anymore?"
"Nah. Obviously, I wasn't very good at it."
"Mark, no, this-this isn't okay. No, you shouldn't have to live like this just because... No! Wait, you-you can stay here! Yes!"
"Jack, I don't want to cause trouble-"
"Shut up! No, I can't let you live in a motel because you're trying to cover for me. You look exhausted and dirty, you need to rest somewhere decent. And I don't charge rent."
"Heh. Alright, you got me. Sounds appealing." Mark smiled gently.
"Alright, any other aspects of your life that I've ruined?" Jack asked sarcastically, but guilt still flooded his features.
"Yeah, actually. Um. I love you. That's probably your fault, right?" Mark said awkwardly. Jack laughed.
"Sorry, but I'm not good at confessing my feelings, my job was to coax that out of other people!" Mark blushed brightly.
"Okay, okay, I shouldn't be laughing. Just...it sounds so you, just robotically saying "I love you" to someone, because you don't know how to put any emotion into it." Jack giggled. Then he realized what Mark had actually said to him and started to blush as well.
"Wait, um, like, actually? Actually, you love me?" He asked incredulously. Mark nodded shyly.
"I'm sorry. We could've avoided all of this if I'd told you when you asked. I just got...too nervous."
"Come on, man, I literally told you I liked you right in front of your dumb face. You weren't gonna get rejected." Jack teased. Mark shook his head.
"It wasn't about you rejecting me, it was about...everyone else."
"Ahhhh, society. Well, fuck that." Jack declared. Mark snorted.
"But...is it too late to tell you?" He asked quietly.
"Of course not! My door's always open, and I still love you." Jack said cheerfully, wrapping his arms around Mark.
"Then why did you take the pills?"
"...I had already planned to. When I was drunk. I was going to go home and take them. But my plans got interrupted." Jack explained.
"I sure as hell didn't help you there, huh."
"Erm...honestly? No. You really hurt my feelings. But you're not the reason I did it."
"Then why?"
"Because. I hurt someone again. Because of a man I can't see. Because I'm dangerous. Because I'm quite possibly insane. Because I deserved it." Jack shrugged.
"Why would you ever think that?"
"Because at the time, I believed it was true. I still believe it, actually. But...I have to live now. To save both of our lives."
"...why did you take that so seriously?" Mark whispered.
"When you push your therapist to the brink of suicide, you probably should stop."
"But...why did you think I was being sincere?"
"Mark, you idiot. All you are is sincere. And all you do is care. One of the reasons I love you."
"...can I kiss you?" Mark asked quietly.
"What?" Jack blushed brightly.
"I...I want to kiss you."
"Um...go ahead, i-if you want..." Jack said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Mark smiled gently.
The first kiss was fast, tentative. Their lips met, briefly, then danced away again. The next was slower, longer. Then Mark pulled away abruptly.
"Hey, man. Are you okay?" He asked quietly, as Mark blushed.
"I...I...no..."
"Sorry. W-we don't have to do this if you don't want to, but...what's wrong?"
"I need to show you...Its...they're...I-if I showed you, you...you have to promise you won't judge me for it."
"Mehhhh..."
"JACK! I-I'm being serious, you can't..."
"I know. I understand. I promise, I won't." Mark trusted this and slowly slipped off his long-sleeved shirt. Jack didn't notice anything at first. Then he gasped.
"Mark, you..." He choked on the words, his fingers running softly over the scars. There were so many scars. Mark laughed sadly.
"I'm so pathetic, aren't I?"
"No. No, of course not. I promise, you aren't even close to pathetic. Why would you say that?"
"Because it's true. I'm too weak. I can't...stop. My arms move on their own. Did you know that blood is really beautiful?" Mark smiled, his eyes begging for help.
"Is that really why you hurt yourself?"
"...I...no. No, but it's why I can't stop. But...originally, I thought...that I deserved it. The timing...the timing was too perfect for it, between me rejecting you and you attempting suicide, it had to be my fault. But...also, I deserve it because it was my job to save you. My job to help you. And I couldn't. I couldn't help her, either. I can't even help myself, I'm so pathetic. So sometimes, I'll just...take a razor...and go wild." Mark explained, a mirthless grin stretching over his face.
"...when was the last time you did this?"
"Not since you woke up. I'd say a little more than two weeks ago."
"Does it hurt?"
"All the time. Of course. That's why I did it. I...deserve...every second of pain." Mark said miserably, his voice cracking.
And that's when Jack started to cry.
He hadn't cried in a long time. Not really. Not since the bad thing happened. Nobody had been able to open him up to his emotions. Nobody had ever done anything that could really make him want to cry for such a long time that the tears on his face surprised him.
But he cried anyways. For himself, for the times he'd tried to kill himself. For the time that had made him want to. For the people who were going through the same thing, for the people who didn't get second chances. For Mark, who never would've ended up like this if Jack hadn't fucked him up.
Mark let him cry, let him wail and bawl about everything that was wrong in the world. He let him cry, and the teardrops that landed on his arm stung. He glanced down at the scars, the ones that said he wasn't good enough, that he deserved to be hurt.
And Mark started to cry, too. For the scars, for Jack, for her, for everyone else he'll never be able to save.
But Jack's tears turned, from fear and sadness to hope. He cried because he'd made it, he'd made it back home. He cried because he woke himself up, when for so long he hadn't wanted to. He cried because he was finally glad he was alive.
And Mark started to laugh lightly with the tears still falling from his eyes. Because he wasn't alone. He hadn't failed just yet. He still had somebody with him. Somebody who could maybe, just maybe, help him carry on.
So there they were, just two, crying fools, clinging to each other like it was the end of the world. Well, maybe it was. At least, the end of the world that they were so used to.
But maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
Everyone is fucked up in their own little way. And sometimes, whatever happened to screw them over stays with them their whole lives. You can't change that, and occasionally you just have to accept the fact that they'll never be completely the same again.
But they can get better, and they can keep moving forward.
Because there is always a reason. It might not be a person to live for. But there is always a reason to live. To wake up. To come back.
It just takes people a little longer sometimes to find it.

A/N: thanks for reading so far, guys. Sorry, I might've gotten a little cheesy at the end, but I had an important message to display. One more chapter after this (well technically it's the epilogue so I guess you could just stop reading here).