Septiplier One Shots

Sick

(Mark's P.O.V.)

It's been four months. "Four months since what" you might ask. Well... It's been four months since Jack started... Since he started acting weird. Now you may be asking "how weird?". Well... Let me start in the beginning.

A year ago Jack and I started dating. Our subscribers were beyond happy, and our friends and family were more than supportive. Six months ago Jack moved in with me. I got him his own recording space, and we shared a bedroom. Four months ago... Jack asked for his own room. And that was when I knew something was wrong.

I didn't say no. I asked why and he just shrugged, but argued that he wanted his own room nonetheless. I turned my guest room into his new room. I've been in there once, the day after he moved his stuff in there. But ever since he's kept the door locked 24/7. When he's in there, I don't bother knocking. I know he either won't answer, or will yell.

And it's not just the room thing that's weird. No... He's not uploading anymore. A month after he moved into his own room he recored something and I watched it before he uploaded it... And I didn't let him. It was weird and... Not him. Creepy. It would kill everything he's worked for just like that. So I deleted the video and told him not to make anymore videos until he felt better.

Lately I've asked if he wanted to record something, ANYTHING. But his reply is always the same. "I don't care for that anymore." Which is scary to me, since it was such an important part of his life. His subscribers are worried, even after the video I posted saying that Jack won't be active for a while.

And again, there's more. Jack's picked up some new... Hobbies. And they're really worrying. For one, he really liked knives now. I mean, he takes knives and sharpens them. And then he proceeds to test out how sharp they are on his arm. I asked why, he said because he enjoyed it. I told him to stop, he said he couldn't. I asked if he needed help, he said he didn't want it.

His other hobby... Well I don't necessarily know what it is. But sometimes during the day he'll go to his room for a bit and when he comes back out his clothes and his hands are covered in blood. And he often has a knife with him... Also covered in blood. I asked once before. He yelled at me. I haven't asked him anything regarding it since.

This one time though... He tried to kill me, and he almost did. He had a crazy look in his eyes, he was holding a knife and had me pinned up against the wall. He would've done it, but before he could stab me he dropped the knife and broke down. I caught him though, so instead of crying on the floor he wrapped his arms around my neck and cried into my shoulder.

I felt terrible that he was so upset, but I was so grateful for the hug. That was a month ago and it was the first hug I'd gotten for two months prior, and the only hug I've gotten since.

I'm just worried. Jack... He's violent now and the normal happiness and energy in his eyes is gone, replaced with hatred and anger. I never see his smile anymore, unless it's a smirk, but normally he's scowling. He never laughs anymore, and he never jokes. He isn't my Jack anymore. I still love him, and I want to believe he'll get better.

But he's not just weird... He's sick.

***

Today is Jack and my one year anniversary. It's 10AM and Jack still hasn't come out of his room. I don't care if he doesn't answer or yells at me. I'm gonna go knock on the door and see him. I want to see my boyfriend on our anniversary. I walk up the stairs, walking quickly to Jack's room at the end of the hall. Once I reach the room I bring my hand up and I knock rather loudly. It's silent for a minute. He's probably just ignoring me again.

I sigh, tapping my foot impatiently. I go to knock again when the door swings open, revealing Jack who looks just like he always does. Tired, sick, creepy, unhappy, etc.. I smile a bit. Even though he doesn't look like my Jack or act like my Jack doesn't mean I shouldn't treat him like my Jack.

"Happy anniversary." I say. He scoffs and turns, walking back into the room.

"Not really." He says in a low voice. I frown a bit, walking into the room and leaning my back against the wall. Jack turns and looks at me. "How are you?"

I shrug. "I could be better. What do you want to do today? I was thinking maybe we could go out somewhere..." I'm cut off by Jack chuckling.

"Mark we both know that if I leave this house I'm not coming back." He says. I sigh, nodding, admitting that I have in fact realized that. But I wanted to see if maybe... Just maybe he was well enough to go out somewhere today. Just for today. That's all I'm asking. But not what I'm receiving.

"Seriously though. You want to do anything today?" I ask. Jack shakes his head, looking to the side. I nod slowly, trying hard to hide my disappointment. I know he still loves me. I hope he still loves me. I'd be crushed if he didn't.

"I don't know." He says it quietly, unsure of himself. I just stare at him, studying his face, trying to figure out what he's thinking. And when he grasps his wrist tighter, I know what's going on. He's having another private battle, another fight for control. Another fight to do what's right instead of what's wrong. I just don't know what the wrong is in this situation.

"Are you okay?" I ask then, and as soon as I say it I know I made a mistake. I know that he's not. He knows he's not. His eyes widen and he shakes his head, scowling.

"No Mark! I'm not okay! Why would you even ask that?! I'm standing here trying not to do the worst thing I possibly could and you're asking if I'm okay?! In case you couldn't tell I'm pretty screwed up at this point! And there's not a damn thing you can do to help!" He yells, leaving the house in an eery silence afterwards.

I don't flinch, I don't get upset. I'm used to this by now. I'm used to his yelling, his freak outs. And I hate that it's gotten to that point. The point where I'm used to it. Where it's normal. He sighs and turns, his back towards me. The silence continues as I stare at his back, waiting for something to happen. However, after a couple seconds, I decide to look at the room.

I haven't been in here since the day Jack moved into it, and boy has it changed. It's dark, cause he's blocked the windows with the curtains and stapled the curtains shut. The floor, walls, ceiling, doesn't matter. The surfaces of the room has blood splatters on them. Some recent, some just stains. Knives are laying everywhere, and some are hanging on the wall. This just concerns me even more.

Suddenly, Jack breaks the silence. "You know I love you... Right?" He asks quietly, and I can't help but smile because he says it just like he used too. How he used to every time we went out, every time we finished recording together. I nod.

"Yeah. And I'll always love you." I say. He nods slowly, and I'm wonder... Why did he bring it up now? And why did he sound almost... Sad? It's only then I understand because in that instant he whirls around and rushes up to me. I don't even realize what happened until he's right in front of me, the knife already implanted in my gut.

The pain is unbearable, but I can't get myself to scream. Blood starts dripping down my chin, and my mouth is caught open. I can feel my life start to go away as he digs the knife deeper into my body, twisting it and turning it. He takes it out, letting the wound bleed and bleed. His hands are covered in my blood. Tears are rolling down his face.

"I'm sorry Mark. I just... I can feel the old me slipping away and I know you want me to get better, but I don't want to and I can't. I know that. You know that. I know what I am, I know I am not who I used to be. I know I'm just upsetting you, and I'm going to continue doing that. I don't want to put you in that much pain." He sobs. I just study his face. I can't bring myself to do anything more. He continues.

"I know that if I died or went away you'd be crushed. I know that if we broke up you'd be devastated. I know I can't get better, because I simply can't feel anymore." He chuckles. "But I feel this. I've been contemplating whether to do this for ages. And I didn't think it'd hurt this much. But it's for the best. I'm so sorry." He puts his hand on my cheek, still clutching the knife with his other hand.

I put my hand on top of his slowly. "I forgive you." I whisper, my voice strained. He sobs louder and says one last time...

"I love you." Before he stabs me again, I close my eyes, and I take my last breath.