With open eyes Jacksepticeye + reader| Finished

Mango

Your P.O.V.

You walk out of the shop, your friend on the left. You have been shopping for a whole day, after you had checked in at your hotel.

It is a hot day and you are dressed too warm. Your phone said it would be cold outside, but you think that the contrary is happening.

Your heart is beating fast. You know this awareness. You have felt it more then once. It is a respond you could describe like this: you know the feeling of standing on a diving board and looking into the deep abyss made of water below you? You are getting scared of the height, an old instinct God has yet not released us from. You tiptoe towards the edge only to look at the water you are doomed to touch. After convincing yourself you can do it, you jump.

You know you are going to faint, which often happens when you have your attacks. You are not scared of falling; you are scared of getting up again.

Your friend knows there is something wrong so she tries to get your attention by talking to you; by asking what is wrong. She knows what is going on; she just wants to hear you say it.

You and F/N picked a codeword for every symptom of your illness, getting unconscious was linked to fruit. Why did you not persuade F/N that you are not in need of "codeword's"? You cannot remember.

What was the code word you picked for these situations? You find yourself unable to recall the word. A burning pain is pushing inside your head and begging to get out.

You search your brain for every odd word you remember that may be connected with this situation. You see sentences and names flashing by when you finally find the right one.

Mango.

'Mango, Mango!' you yell. Your friend reacts with a loud: 'Help!'

F/N is prepared for what is going to happen; she knows helping you would make things worse. At least when she helps you it always goes wrong.

You have known her for years yet she is still scared of you, you are able to see it in her eyes. Her big pupils are bouncing all over the place and tears rush themselves down her cheeks.

No one helps, they only stare in silence.

Your legs give up and so you fall to the floor. You embrace the coldness of the streets; cringing you turn around so only your back touches the place many people have walked before you did.

The bottle you held falls with you and thousands of broken shivers of glass rest on the cold stones.

Your hands get cut open by glass as you move your body; the transparent little demons vanish into your skin so you scream loudly. Your scream is echoing from building to building and ends up somewhere at the end of the block.

Already lying on your back, two young men decide to help and push themselves through the crowd that formed a circle around you. The young men have dyed their hair different colors, one with dark neon green hair and one with fiery and flame (also fabulous) red hair.

"Green hair" calls 911 so his friend looks after you.

The man is muscular, well trained it seems. A sport addict maybe. His hair is fluffy and a part of you want to run your hand through it.

The person opens his beautiful mouth to say something and rasps his voice. His timbre is filled with worry and concern but still comforts you.

'I'm Mark, stay with me...'

He looks at you in sorrow, yet his American voice makes you laugh politely and again you scream in pain.

'The ambulance cannot come here, we must bring 'er to the closes spot passable for cars,' the other young man says. He sounds Irish. For the second time you want to laugh but once more you scream in pain.

You see Mark nodding and F/N crying, even the other man seems to feel sorry for you. Your sight gets blurry and for a split second you close your eyes.

Once you open them again the world is less colourful, everything you see has a grey tint.

You hear your crony sob and drown herself in tears, you felt so guilty for making her sad so you want to lie that you are fine but it would only hurt you more.

'Look at me!' the American screams and you look into his eyes; they are chocolate brown, almost shining brighter than any star in the whole universe. Only YOU see them in white.

Two strong arms lift you up, they are from Mark. He holds you bridal style. You have never been hold like that, not even by all your exes.

You feel a growling roar deep within you and before you can stop yourself, you cough up blood all over his shirt.

'Sorry,' you whisper shyly. The young man smiles and does not even looks at you like some kind of monster. This is the first time nobody has looked at you like you are broken, something that needs to be mended.

'No problem,' he responds.

The Irishman runs first, then your friend and then your saviour, Mark. You lay your head against his shoulder and cringe when the pain kicks in again.

When it does, Mark holds you tighter almost like a hug gone wrong. You smile, comforting yourself in his arms. Mark is not looking away from you, he wants to make sure you do not close your eyes.

After 10 minutes of being held by Mark , you feel his breath getting shorter within seconds which means he is panting. You get why; he had to run with his own weight and with yours. You are not over weighted or anything, but you are not made of dust.

'Let me hold her, I do not want you to faint,' the green haired Irishman says with his calming accent. You say goodbye, with your eyes, to Mark and great the other young man.

Bigger arms hold you; the Irishman is taller than Mark, not much but just enough for being noticed. You lay your head against his scapula and he hugs you while holding you a few feet above the ground.

The beast inside you grows for attention once more, you refuse to give in. After a second growl the monster is showing his impatience and you feel a warm liquid coming up.

For the second time you caught up blood, this time over the road. You do not want to vomit your blood over the man, you know how filthy that is.

The young man stares at you in shock. He is still running, while starring at you. Not afraid of you, afraid of the unknown.

You hear an ambulance coming.

'The name is Jack,' he says. You find the name fitting him yet you do not believe it is his real name.

You close your eyes; you want to not feel the pain for only a split second. You want to be immune; you plead to be able to resist it. You just want to let go of the pain.

'Stay awake!' he yells and so you try.

'Y/N' you whisper before the ambulance men lift you up and lay you down on the hospital bed, into the car.

Jack glances at you one more time before he glances behind his back, probably searching for his best friend.

Your friend steps in the back of the car, next to the left side of your "bed". She still cries and sobs, you want to caress her cheek like you always do but the doctors hold you down.

Jack and Mark sit in the front, you scream again before you faint and you are greeted by the darkness once more.

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hey cornflakes, thank you for reading. i know it is strange that i just randomly changed the first chapter of my first book but i thought it was awful so i made some more detail XD

i hope you guys enjoy and when there is any wrong things that could b! not trying to have a good excuse but i am trying to use other characters so i can publish this as a REAL book, like with paper:P

hope you cereal enjoy, i love you cornflakes and always

Stay BOSS!!!