Get Out Alive

Ohio Is For Lovers ; 05

You don't remember the dizziness this time. You don't even remember hitting the ground. All you do know is that in one minute, you're safe at your house, and in the next -you're blinking open heavy, stinging eyes, the world is sideways, and you're feeling like you were bludgeoned into unconsciousness with a police club or something.

You are laying on cold tile floor underneath pale white lights, surrounded by broken glass. And that can only mean one thing, right? You knew that it wasn't a dream! You just knew that you weren't going crazy!

"Mark?" You automatically croak out.

It would be sick and. . . and wrong, to be relieved at being back here. And you're not, make no mistake about that. You are not thrilled whatsoever to be stuck in an insane asylum with the very real chance that you could die within its walls. Hell, no. But. . . when you finally spot him laying four or five feet away from you, his broad chest rising and falling with an easy, reassuring rhythm. . .

Something catches in your throat and buzzes through your veins and you are just so damn happy to see him again that nothing else really matters at the moment.

"Hey, buddy." You rasp, crawling over as he begins to stir, and definitely trying not to grin like a loser in the process. "Rise and shine."

". . .what?" Mark mumbles. "[Name]?" Blindly, he reaches out towards your voice, and your fingers are linking through his without a second thought.

"Yep, alive and kicking." You assure him. "Um, maybe not the kicking part."

His skin is very warm and very solid against yours, a little sweaty and peppered with tiny cuts and scratches from his award-winning tumble from the second floor. And you. . . you hold on to him with no intention of letting go as he gradually sits up. You probably should, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to pry the two of you apart, either. Actually. . . it feels like he squeezes your hand even tighter as he straightens out his glasses. One of the lenses is cracked, but they don't look broken.

You both stay there on the floor for a few silent moments. Amidst the glass and the blood and the two or three other headless bodies scattered around the lobby, holding hands and staring at one another like nothing else in the world exists.

It should be awkward, shouldn't it? It isn't. And you think that it hits him all at once, what happened to you two the last time you were here. . . and now, this. Did he believe that he was going crazy, too? Or was he hoping that it had only been some terrible nightmare?

Did he remember falling when he woke up at home? Did he. . . did he remember you? You can't imagine how anyone could forget any of the shit that you saw. . . but, maybe you can. The note that Ryan left behind. . . it mentioned something about remembering things, didn't it? What if you guys hadn't?

"Fuck." Mark finally huffs. An unsure, crooked smile twitches near his mouth.

"I think that pretty much sums it up." You agree, chuckling weakly.

He swears again and shakes his head. "I can't believe you went after that asshole with a flashlight. Do you have a death wish or something?" His low voice is thick and scratchy with emotion. "Man. Don't you remember what I told you before? About running, and not fighting? We are no match for the Variants, [Name]. You could have. . ."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What? Been tossed through a window?" You interrupt. "Are you honestly going to get mad at me for wanting to save your life?"

A sigh buckles his shoulders. "No, no. I'm not going to get mad. I'm just. . ." He rakes his free hand roughly through his hair, dark eyes fixed on yours. "I don't even fucking know what I am -other than confused as hell, I mean. I woke up in my bed in my apartment and I had no idea what was going on." His frowns.