99 Steps

Step 16: Dream

Jack let out a low moan as he let his eyes roll to the back of his head. Feeling uncomfortably loud, he bit down on the corner of the pillow and let a half sigh, half whine.

Mark, who was sitting on the backs of Jack's thighs, let out a chuckle. "Have you never had a massage before?"

"I gue-" Mark pushed down on the space between his shoulder blades, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

"No. Not like this." Jack mumbled, biting his lip. Mark moved his hands up the back of Jack's neck, pausing to add a little pressure. In response, Jack moved his chin to his chest. He quieted down a lot, but Mark already missed how vocal his boyfriend was.

Laying down on Jack, Mark reached to Jack's hair and ran his fingers through the green clump. He planted a kiss on Jack's shoulder blade, to which he tensed up from.

"Relax babe, it's fine." Mark attempted to soothe his boyfriend, although Jack kept moving his feet around. Mark tangled his legs with the smaller man's, carefully kissing the skin on the back of his neck.

"Mark, I just do-" For the second time, Jack was cut off by a moan as Mark started to nibble at the nape of his neck. He tugged on his hair, moving his head to the side, which made Jack gasp. Kissing and sucking some more, he let out curses and gasps, fueling Mark.

Soon enough, Mark moved his hands down to Jack's bare sides, moving one to push up his body and flip Jack onto his back. He dipped back down, tracing small circles around Jack's hip, the other holding himself up.

Jack fought against the feeling, pushing Mark back. "Mark, I'm not ready. I'm sorry but I'm not." Mark's finger tips stopped, and he met his blue eyes.

Without saying anything, Mark pushed himself up, walking out of the room. He made sure to flip the light off and shut the door, stomping up the stairs.

Sitting in the complete darkness, Jack felt terrible. Mark was his boyfriend, and they were supposed to have sex, and cuddle, and do more than lay in bed and sleep all the time. In all honesty, Jack thought that his wings were starting to break again, and he was starting to drag Mark back down to the ground; dragging him down fast enough to the point that the two would soon be nothing but red splats on the ground.

Jack sat for a while, thinking what kind of birds the two boys would be. He came to the conclusion that Mark would definitely be a beautiful, strong bird; like a hawk, eagle or owl. Jack would for sure be a raven or crow, some simple bird that had to scavenge for all its food, something that was considered a pest.

Jack unlocked his phone, plugging his headphones in. 'Because why not make myself cry and feel terrible about everything?' He scrolled down to the songs he worked oh-so hard to get, which was really just downloading it from the Internet. Jack closed his eyes, and let the music really sink in.

Jack tried to act like he wasn't a huge fucking cry baby, but that didn't work out so well. You really have to pay attention to the words in a song, otherwise you might think it's happy because of the beat. One thing Jack had figured out was that he could be on the brink of tears while listening to music, while other people could ignore the legitimate screaming and crying for help and to he saved.

Mark on the otherhand, Mark could listen to the words, and not be affected, but when he looked to see how Jack was reacting, that's when he would be sad. The Irishman never showed too much emotion on his face, in fear that he might be labeled as weak, but when he listened to some bands, the emotional roller-coaster of his mind would be plastered on his face like it was saving his life.

The thought of Mark made more tears fall, or maybe it was the voice in his headphones screaming to "please save me" over and over. Jack just rolled over, face down in his pillow. He had to be a stupid fuck up that freaked out when his boyfriend tried to do anything. He had to be a pathetic bitch that needed people to show him how to live. He had to break down like the over reacting piece of shit he was and slice his thighs open.

Just because he didn't want to have sex. He made Mark mad, and thought back to all the times he was a disappointment. Jack had to snap and ruin the time he was clean for.

All he wanted to do was die, and all he would have to do was cut a little deeper. So that's what he did. He could feel his legs tingling from the razor digging deeper that he was used to, but he ignored it.

7. The least I can do is make it even.

11. Fuck.

Bright images of angels flashed through his head, so he paused, and looked around his messy room. He could leave this hell hole and join them, right now. But what about Mark?

What about him?

What would he think? What would he do when he found his body? What would he feel? Would those songs hit him if he listened to them ever again? Would he even ever come down here? Would he just wait until he could go home?

Jack rolled his eyes, and dropped the razor on the ground, flopping into bed, letting his blood run out of his legs. He glanced over at the bottle of pills on the desk. He didn't want to get up and get them, but they were calling out to him.

Finally, he gave in. Jack walked over and took a few, plugging his phone into the radio playing the same play list.

He closed his eyes, passing out almost instantly. The whole time he was asleep, all he could see in his dream was beautiful things, like flowers, and rivers, and butterflies, and pretty teens. Slowly, though, everything drowned in darkness.

AN// aaah aHaha HAaaaAaAAA

I'm sorry I'm a terrible person but I'll be alright as long as you guys are good

I mean you guys are so fucking cool like this book is the result of listening to the same song when I can't sleep and want to die

Like you guys actually like it. I have made you guys cry. With my own fucking words.