99 Steps

Step 19: Don't Lie

"Alright, so I had an idea." Mark tapped his fingers on the table top. He thought he could bring Jack out for lunch, although his green haired boyfriend kept fiddling with his sleeves and adjusting his shirt as he watched the few other people in the room.

"Oh yeah?" Jack blinked, chewing on his lip as he tried to concentrate only on Mark. Not the people who he thought were judging him.

"Since the whole thing didn't work out so well, why don't I just be your therapist?" Mark picked up a fry off the large plate, offering it to Jack. He shook his head.

"How would that work?"

"Well. I guess you could just act like I'm someone else. Or we could a have a rule, like don't bring up topics from 'therapy time'." He munched on the fry, picking up another one and offering it to Jack again.

The Irish man shook his head again, and Mark ended up eating the fry. "I can't just paint a mask on you and tell you everything I really think about you."

"Well, now I'm worried. What do you really think about me?" Mark didn't give up, and offered Jack a third fry. He rolled his eyes, and let out a sigh.

"I mean, that's just it. I can't just - just spill my guts out to you." Mark ate the fry, and leaned back.

"How about this; just don't look at me. Close your eyes if you have to, but try to think we are sitting in an office of a sort. Pretend that girl from the front desk is sitting in the corner listening to you."

Jack looked at the pile of fries, then up at Mark, who picked one up and held it in front of his mouth.

"I'm not ea-" Mark put the French fry in Jack's mouth, holding it there until he bit down and ate it. Jack would have sat there all day with the salty food in between his teeth, but holding eye contact with Mark made it uncomfortably awkward. He bit down, chewing up the food. Jack licked his lips.

"Those are fucking good." Mark smiled, finishing the half eaten French fry, taking another.

"Now, close your eyes and imagine the office." He thought it was absolutely insane, but he closed his eyes and tried anyways. It was easier than he was expecting it to be.

"Okay." Jack said, not sure what to do next. Did he just start pouring every once of emotion onto the table?

"Now, how has Mark helped you since you've shown up here? Do you feel like you've made any progress in recovery?" It was a bit weird to hear Mark's voice, but imagine a small women talking.

"Mark has been a big help. Most of the time anyways. I mean sometimes I just feel like he should realize that he should let me die, you know?" He wanted to open his eyes to see what Mark's reaction was, or if he should even continue.

"Keep going." Mark said after a moment or two of silence.

"But I mean, I haven't used really anything in a while. We got rid of my needles when I freaked out. I smoke only when I really need to." Jack didn't know what else to say. Sure he was proud of himself for not using in a while, but at the same time he was ashamed.

"And what about the, um, incident a few weeks ago?" It sounded like Mark was sad, which was nearly strange to hear it coming from him. He was always cheery and happy about everything.

"I just... I couldn't deal with all my thoughts, really. It wasn't entirely Mark's fault, in fact it wasn't at all. It was my fault because I made him upset. I mean I should be used to people being disappointed with me by now. My own mother sent me out of fucking Ireland to get 'fixed'. She didn't bother to try and help. She just sent me away." Jack opened his eyes, and looked at the table. There was a lot of stuff he wanted to talk about, and that he should talk about, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring up Zoey again. He was such a fucking baby he couldn't even kiss his boyfriend.

"Jack." He looked up at Mark, who had so many emotions behind his eyes. "I love you, so much. You're not broken, you don't need to be fixed."

Feeling the need to get away, Jack pushed himself out of the booth. "I need a smoke." It wasn't like he was entirely lying, he didn't smoke for a while, and he was proud of himself. Now, though, he left Mark with out even responding to what he said.

He pulled out the small box from the glove box in the car, pulling out a cigarette, and a lighter. He leaned up against the building after closing the door, and lit the stick, taking a few puffs.

One way to look at it was that it was medicine. He would literally stop functioning if he up and left cigarettes, although he did it with all the drugs. He rolled his eyes. Maybe he could get lung cancer and die that way, he wouldn't actually have to give Mark the pain of ending his life personally. Even though he was, in a way.

What if he just went home? What would his mom do? What would Mark do?

Jack thought of how much easier it would be to die if he wasn't constantly being checked on by Mark. He wouldn't even have to find out, as far as Mark would be concerned Jack would have just stopped talking to him.

No. He couldn't do that. All the effort the two put towards Jack getting better couldn't just be thrown down the drain like that.

Jack wasn't about to let his broken wings stop him from being able to fly with Mark. He had to try harder than before, and not just let himself fall behind.

AN// I feel like I haven't updated in ages, but it's only been a few days. Annnyways, I'm working on another thing, and I hope you guys will like it. Also, self promo, but I've been working on a oneshot for that past few weeks // I don't think I've ever taken that much time to think of a single one shot or anything // and I'm actually really happy with it, and I'm thinking about making it into a small //or larger, idk man// book. GOO READ IT IF YOU WANT THANKS K BYE