Septiplier One-Shots

Casual

Everyone take a moment to thank the incredible author144 for blessing us with another one of her amazing stories! Now, I know she has been writing most of the recent chapters, but I've begun to start writing again, and I have a Oneshot that's almost finish. I plan to complete and upload it some time this week. For now, enjoy yet another fantastic work of author144!

Jack’s POV
I lifted a hand to block the incoming punch. I felt pain sear up my arm and shoulder, causing me to rear back and endure another punch that felt my nose. I took another hit to the stomach, causing me to lean over my knees, coughing. A knee came up to my nose, knocking my head backwards and inflicting whiplash upon my neck. I was shoved backwards, stumbling into the waiting arms of another man whose knife glinted in the fading sunlight of the day, his smile just as bright as I was tossed into his hands. A quick stab to my right side, and I knew that it was over from there.
I gasped, feeling the blade sink in only to be removed in a forcefully gruesome manner, tearing flesh and opening the wound more as it left my body. I slumped to the ground, shaking visibly with my mouth left gaping open. The two men sprinted away from me, running towards any other place but near me. Even if someone found me now, my hand placed over my side in attempt to stop the blood, paling as my life bled away onto the sidewalk, there was nothing they could do; nothing any professional doctor could do for me. My injuries were too much now.
Instead of pondering death, instead of fearing it and letting it consume my mind, I fumbled with my shaky hands for my pockets. I lay back, letting the cold of the concrete beneath me seep through my clothes, gritting my teeth when my body involuntarily shivered and spiked my injury, demanding warmth. I managed to shove one of my hands into my pocket, reaching down and wrapping the tips of my fingers around the edge of my phone. Carefully, I pulled it out and set it on my leg. My hands were shaking uncontrollably now, and I slowly dialed a number into my phone, almost unable to, and I moved the phone by my ear so that I could lay back in peace.
“Hello?” Mark’s voice sounded over the phone. I heard the rumbling of a boiling pot of water in the background, and the sound of soft music playing. Considering what time it was, I could only assume that he was in the middle of making dinner. I smiled to myself, imagining him in his pink frilly apron that he wore while cooking, and I heard him wipe his hands as he gripped the phone better.
“Hey Mark, it's me. I’m just calling to see how you’re doing.”
“Hey, love.” Mark responded, pronouncing my pet name in the sweet voice that he always used. “I’m doing just fine, just trying to make what I can for dinner while you run to the shop. What’s taking you so long? Is everything alright?” My hand instinctively moved up to my side where the blood was still pooling at a rate too fast to comprehend. The sky began to darken above me.
“There was some complications at the store, but you shouldn’t worry.” I told him, watching as an older lady walking nearby noticed me bleeding out on the ground. She gave a horrified shout, and with that she turned tail and ran the other way, probably to find help. I almost wished I was able to call her back, and tell her that she would only be wasting her energy.
“I can tell by that scream I just heard.” Mark said, amused. I heard the careful chopping of a knife against a cutting board, only to be followed by a shout from Mark. “Ow!”
“Are you alright?” I asked, my anxiety spiking as I knew he had hurt himself, and I heard the knife being set on the counter, rustling as his clothes brushed up against his phone. I knew he was searching through the closet to find a bandage.
“Yeah, I’m alright. I just nicked myself with the blade trying to talk to you. You’re so distracting, you know.” Mark said, and I heard him sigh as he fixed his injury.
“You should really be careful, we wouldn’t want you injured and in the hospital or anything like that.” I breathed out, my lungs only taking in less and less air. I leaned back against the concrete even further in relaxation, wondering what the men who had just attacked and robbed me were thinking. Were they that poor that they had to attack me and leave me bleeding out on the sidewalk?
“I know, I know. I’ll be careful, I promise.” Mark told me, and I could hear his smile through the phone. My eyes closed as I imagined it, his toothy grin as he shot me a lopsided smile, one that could make the sunshine through rainclouds during the stormy days of June in Ireland. I clung to that memory as I heard an ambulance come to a screeching halt not too far from me. “Is that an ambulance? Oh my, Jack, please be careful.”
“I will, I will.” I breathed out, and I smiled to myself once more in the present as I pictured Mark’s emotional, worried, handsome expression. “Make sure that dinner tastes wonderful tonight, alright?” I asked him, and Mark only huffed as if my request was a silly one. I recalled the last time that he kissed me, and for a moment I could practically feel his lips against my own.
“I’ll see you soon, Jack. I love you.” Mark said, and I felt my final breath building up in my lungs.
“Take care of yourself, handsome. I love you more.” I breathed out, and I heard the phone line go dead. My last memory included the sound of feet scuffling towards me, a stretcher being rolled out from the ambulance as paramedics rushed to save me. I had nothing left in terms of energy to tell them that I was already a lost cause. My finally memory was Mark’s warm smile, the heat of the kitchen as he cooked, and his lips against my own. A death, no matter how it occurred, would never be as peaceful as when Mark’s phantom lips kissed me to sleep.