SEIZURE WARNING IN THE VIDEO SERIOUSLY BRO. SHIT GETS REAL. SEIZURE WARNING.
A/N This song is written by me and is my content. I wrote it. Tis mine. More of a poem really, but still. Tis mine.
The video above is kind of irrelevant, but it's been my favorite song for a while now and I thought you guys might like to share it with me. (Page250 Jane production, please ignore Dan he just happened to be in the video)
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Mark was bent low over the guitar that was settled in his lap. Dawn was streaming in from the window behind him reflecting off the tub he was perched on. There was no logic behind why he'd decided to sit on the edge of the bathtub, but he was comfortable. The strings were hard between his fingers and he plucked them slowly, unused to the feel of his guitar. It had been years since he'd played, though it came back easily enough. He started to sing, his voice low and course from the months of disuse.
"All of the days that I have passed by
And the nights so long forgotten
Winding roads and shadowed faces
My memory holds onto you
Breathe you in, tell your secrets
Whisper to the stars and set you free
So many songs yet so much silence
Hold me in while you are gone
And though tomorrow is not promised
And yesterday is already so far gone
Here and now is so fleeting
Dig in your roots towards the horizon
I only miss you when the sun is gone
And the night is settled low on the hills
Whisper to me sweetly before the sunrise comes."
By the time he finished singing, he was crying. Tears fell on the guitar and, when he felt himself slipping, he just allowed himself to fall backwards. The tub was cold and he'd clocked his head pretty hard against the side, but he didn't think he was bleeding. In his graceless decent he'd kicked the knob to turn the cold water on, forcing it to spew from the shower overhead. He felt no desire to get up, even with the icy spray hitting him, so he simply curled in on himself and wallowed.
From the counter, his phone began to ring, Jack's ringtone, and he finally pulled himself from the tub, scrambling to answer it.
"Hello?" His voice was soft and raspy.
"Where are you? I'm at the airport. Come get me, you smelly." Jack's voice is warm and loud and his laugh lifts Mark's spirits.
"Wait, you're here?!" Mark's voice jumped three octaves in excitement and he quickly cleared his throat. "Fuck, yeah give me a minute I'm on my way!"
He quickly turned off the shower and scrambled into a fresh change of clothes, without looking in the mirror. He yelled a goodbye to Matt and Ryan before scrambling into the car and stepping on the gas. The airport was only a fifteen minute drive from his house but he made it in ten, too eager to see Jack to care about being careful.
"Jack!" Mark called, barely through the doors, frantically looking for his other half. "Jack!"
"Mark!" Jack was suddenly there, arms wrapped tightly around him, sobbing into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
Mark felt Jack pull away and he tried to keep the smile from lighting up his face, but it was pointless. He expected Jack to smile back, but his blood ran cold at the horror on Jack's face.
"Mark! You're bleeding!" Jack's voice is too loud in the small car and Mark winces.
"I fell." He replies automatically, suddenly aware his head was throbbing. "Ouch, it kinda really fucking hurts."
"That's what happens when you gash your head open, stupid!" Jack brushed Mark's hair back, tenderly. "It doesn't look too bad, you probably won't need stitches. Let's go into the bathroom and clean it up, you look like a nightmare." He laughed, suddenly. "Darkiplier in real life!"
"Right," Mark laughed.
"So," Jack said, casually, as they walked hand-in-hand towards the bathroom. "Have you been doing anything for your channel lately?"
"Uhm, no." Mark replied, awkwardly. "I had some pre-recorded stuff that's gone up, so there's a new video once a week or so on the channel, but I haven't done anything new."
"We have lots of time, we can collab. Don't worry." Jack laughed again as he shouldered open the door to the bathroom. "Now," his voice was tender, "let's clean you up."
Fifteen minutes and half a roll of paper towels later, Mark's face was clean. He'd need stitches, more than likely, but they'd cleaned up most of the blood and were on their way to the car, Jack's bags in tow.
"So, can you drive? Cause, I'm not so good with the whole American cars thing." Jack laughed, nervously, and rubbed the back of his neck.
"I'm fine, yeah." Mark removed the towels from his face and tossed them in the trash.
They loaded Jack's bags into the back and got in, Mark making the turn towards the hospital to get his face checked out. For a long time, the car was quiet.
It was a comfortable kind of silence, though. The kind of silence that came from knowing someone well enough that you didn't feel the need to spend every moment in idle chatter. The kind of silence where you were content to listen to their breathing and memorize the way they tapped an invisible beat on the steering wheel. An intimate, personal silence that was almost better than speaking.
Mark's face was still bleeding, the blood trailing almost like a caress down his forehead, over his eye, along his cheek and slowly, so slowly down his neck before staining the front of his shirt with color. Jack carefully wiped the blood away, afraid to break the stillness of the silence.
Mark wound their fingers together and smiled, his eyes on the road.
Jack wondered if things were finally looking up.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the semi tear through a red light, heading directly for Mark's side of the car.
YOU ARE READING
The Broken Places (Septiplier)
FanfictionMark's close friend Joseph had just died and Mark didn't know what to do. He had never felt so empty and cold. It was like there was a black hole inside him, sucking away all the light in his life. And Jack ends up in LA to spend time with his Ameri...
