99 Steps

Step 21: Trust Yourself

Mark walked down stairs, pushing open Jack's bedroom door. He got out of the shower about 45 minutes ago and was yet to come upstairs for lunch. Without knocking, Mark pushed the door open.

Jack was laying out across his bed, only wearing a pair of black boxers and a band shirt with the sides cut out.

At first, Mark was caught up by how attractive his boyfriend was, and entranced by the faint happy trail going down his stomach. Slowly, he let his eyes wander around Jack's sleeping body. His pale thighs were littered with white and pink lines, some thicker than others. Most crossed over other scars.

Mark stood there, at the foot of Jack's bed, observing his skin and where all his scars were; not trying to be rude, but he could list some people that would say it was. It was almost hurtful, trying to count all the little lines. Mark lost count at about 23 - just on Jack's left thigh. He looked away, mainly because he didn't want to find out how many there actually was, but also because Jack shifted, blinking his eyes open.

"Do you always watch me sleep?" Jack asked, instantly pulling the blanket up to his waist.

Mark clicked his tongue, as if trying to count all the times he did. "Only a few times." Jack smiled and rolled his eyes. That smile, the one that showed he was actually happy, not faking it to make Mark stop pestering him to talk about how he was really feeling.

Jack knew that Mark knew the difference between the smiles. Jack also knew how to read Mark like a book, an right now, he was worried about something. He wanted to talk to Jack about something, but the Irishman was in the mood to sit in the dark with his music a little too loud.

"We, uh, did have plans for today-"

"We did?" Jack asked, looking around for his skinny jeans, which were actually the only pair he had; black with holes in the knees.

"Okay, I had plans for today, but we have to go to a check in today." Mark caught on, and noticed the jeans were by his feet. He handed them to Jack.

"And what is that?" Jack stood up, tugging on his pants.

"It's kind of self explanatory, we'll go in, talk to the other people who live here, a few people will question you and me, individually, and then we get to go home. I figured we could do laundry and get more food and all that good stuff today too."

Mark went upstairs, grabbing a few things before they left. Jack found Mark's flannel, not bothering to put a clean shirt underneath it. He looked in the mirror, remembering the incident with the 'Professional' therapist. He shook his head, and fixed his hair. With 4 gauge plugs, tattoos, and 'punk' clothing, not to mention a bullet necklace and beanie, he looked like a bad ass. Really though, Jack just wanted world peace and for every one to be happy. He also really liked cuddling. Though he would never voice it.

Unfortunately, they walked to the main building. Jack was looking forward to listening to music in the car, being one of his favorite singers - from before his life went downhill - was working on a solo project, and he was slowly becoming obsessed. 

The boys walked in the big building. Even though he had been here for a few months, Jack had only been in here when he first met Mark. All the times they had to clean their clothes, Mark just brought their clothes here.

After what felt like hours of pressuring questions, Jack could finally leave the room. He met Mark in the hall, and fell onto his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

"Tell me I never have to do that again." Jack spoke into Mark's chest.

"I would, but I don't want to lie to you. I mean unless if you're leaving tomorrow." Mark was, presumably, joking, but Jack couldn't help but think about when he would actually leave. It wasn't an event they talked about, nor were they excited for the day. Although both knew that it was going to happen one way or another.

Jack just forced a smile, following Mark to where the food was kept for when residents were running low in their cabins. They each carried a small box, carefully, trying not to drop it or run into any of the other people that were walking out at the same time. 

Mark was walking back, Jack sitting on the front step watching him.  He didn't want to go with, so he was enjoying the silence as the sun set. The bright rays broke through some of the trees, scaring off the long shadows. It was peaceful, with birds chirping, a few people talking in the distance. There was a slight breeze, but it wasn't too cold; it was still hot from the long day with the sun beating down. 

Jack looked down at his arms, looking at all his scars, whether it was from blades or needles. He wasn't even 20 and he looked like he had survived a few wars. If the wars consisted of cutting your opponent that is. 

The green haired man looked up at the blue sky, and saw a few birds flying near each other. He watched them as they circled around, one swooped down, but the other seemed to fly down and urge it back higher into the air. Just like Mark was with Jack. However, he felt he was helping Mark with a few things too, not much though. Maybe Jack was only there to help him realize that he needed to deal with the pain of losing someone close. Some one he loves. He looked down, shaking his head. No, Jack wan't there to help Mark with anything. Why would Mark even say he loves someone as messed up as Jack. Because he really did? Most likely not. He probably felt bad for the depressed Irish asshole, and wanted to make him feel good about himself. Who could fall in love with someone who had mood-swings, scars, and a constant death wish? Who was foolish enough to do that?

The same smiling dick face that was skipping back towards Jack, making a complete fool of himself just to see that smile. The one that was cracking across Jack's face as he sat on the ground with his knees to his chest.