Septiplier One-Shots

Fighting For You

Jack sighed softly as he walked down the pathway, holding the bundle of flowers to his chest.

He stopped in front of a black gravestone, golden words carved into the front of it.

Mark laughed softly as he tugged on Jack's hand, pulling him down the sidewalk.

"Mark, where are we going?" Jack practically shouted, laughing as well.

"You'll see!"

Jack kneeled down and carefully placed the bundle of flowers against the gravestone.

"Mark, have you seen my glasses?" Jack asked, rubbing at his eyes gently.

"Here, you left them in the bathroom last night." Mark said, placing the glasses on Jack's face gently.

The Irishman blushed darkly and mumbled a quiet 'thanks'.

"Hey," Jack whispered softly to the grave, head tilted enough to make his glasses slide down his nose slightly.

"You alright, Jack?" Mark asked, knocking on the bathroom door gently.

The razor hovered over pale skin.

"No,"

The bathroom door opened and Mark stepped into the room.

"It's alright," Mark soothed, taking the razor carefully and put it away.

Jack let the other help him to his feet.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," Jack murmured, closing his eyes tightly.

"I couldn't bring myself to come to terms with you being...being..." he trailed off.

"You stay here." Mark demaned, eyes filled with warning.

Jack nodded numbly, swallowing thickly.

Mark opened the door to the closet before stepping out and shutting it again.

"Dead. I couldn't bring myself to terms with your death, and I'm sorry." Jack sobbed out, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

The gunshot rang through Jack's mind loudly.

"No,"

"I miss you,"

"Dead? He can't be." Jack reasoned, hands splayed out in front of him like he was showing something off.

The doctor squeezed the smaller's shoulder gently, soothingly.

"Mark."

"Jack is all torn up about it. How was he suppose to know if the guy had a gun or not? It wasn't his fault."

"I should have stopped you, you'd still be here."

Jack held Mark's lucky flannel to his chest and face, sobs shaking his body violently.

"I should have protected you like you've always protected me." Jack nearly yelled, leaning down to hug himself.

Jack walked down the stairs slowly, reluctantly.

Without Mark here it felt wrong to him.

No Mark meant no laughter to wake up to in the morning.

No smiles to be greeted with at breakfast.

And no lips to be kissed with at night.

He felt empty, he might-as-well be.

Jack slowly straightened himself out, quickly drying his tears.

"Thank you, for saving me."

'Thank you, for loving me.' Mark's whispered words replayed in Jack's mind as he layed curled on the couch.

"I'm glad I had you, I'm glad that you are in a better place. I won't forget you." Jack said, standing up.

The pillow pressed to his chest was a poor substitute for Mark's warmth.

"I'll come back soon, just because your dead doesn't mean you get out of hearing me talk." Jack joked slightly, his chest tightening at the thought of never hearing Mark's voice again.

Jack walked away from the house that he had shared with Mark.

"Just for a little bit," he reminded himself.

Jack moved back down the path, heading back to the house. Mark was gone physically, but at that house it felt like Mark was still there.

"I love you." Jack whispered into the cool air, looking around the front of the house, Mark in mind.