Stockholm Syndrome

Chapter Twenty Four- Fear.

Hey guys, I'm starting to write a Joshler fanfic called "Thank You." if any of you guys are fans of Twenty One Pilots. Don't worry, "Stockholm Syndrome" is my main focus still. I'm not sure how close this is to being finished. Anyway...

**Darkiplier's POV**
I sat at the counter, listening for Anti to get out. He had been in there for a while. I tapped the counter with my fingertips, anxiously waiting. I chewed at the inside of my cheek, and stood up, stalking over to the bathroom. 

"Anti?" I called from the other side of the door, impatiently bouncing with my weight on my left foot. "Anti!"

The door flew open, and I was met with black eyes, his green pupil burning holes in me. "What the fuck do you want, Dark?" Anti snapped.

I parted my lips to answer, but was distracted by his bare body, eyes lingering down to the towel wrapped around his waist. 

"My eyes are up here, Dark," Anti sighed in an annoyed tone. 

I swallowed, and looked back into his eyes, forcing a smile. He glared back at me, something in his eyes wiping the smile from my face. He looked angry. Frustrated. Sad. The look made me nervous. Although I knew he loved me, darkness was unpredictable. I grabbed his shoulder, damp with shower water, and forced another smile. 

"Sorry, I w... I was worried about me."

He rolled his eyes and brushed passed me, walking across to his bedroom. "No need to worry about me, Darkimoo," he said, sarcastically, and shut the door behind him.

I felt stung, his off attitude making me confused. Angry. It's called fear, Dark. 

"Shut up, Mark," I growled at his voice in my head. 

You're scared he's going to turn against you. You forget that Jack hates you, and he's still alive in there. Just as I'm still alive.

"Shut up!"

You can't shut me up, Dark. I'll get back in control soon enough. Mark laughed darkly at me. Mocking me. I slammed a closed fist against the hallway wall, shattering my knuckles, but I didn't care. I knew it would hurt Mark. Why couldn't he just fucking give up already? Why must he be so stubborn?

I walked up to Anti's door, knocking gently. I needed to clear up what was going on between us. Anti threw open the door, yelling at me to leave him the fuck alone. I ignored his threats, and walked into his room. He was half-dressed, wearing only a pair of black skinny jeans, and white socks. He ran his hand through his damp, green mess, eyes fluttering over to me. 

"Dark... I have to get dressed," Anti whispered, tired of yelling.

I could see the drained look on his face. His host was fading. The thought of Jack dying off made me nervous. Scared. I didn't like the idea of Jack being gone forever. And Anti made it clear that the world needed Mark and Jack. I was scared to let go. I liked being in control. 

"You look tired," I hesitantly pointed out. 

Anti looked away, gripping the door handle tightly. "So do you." 

I let out a sigh. I hadn't looked at myself in the mirror for a while, but I could feel myself growing weaker. Not because Mark was fading away, but because he was getting stronger. He had more fight than Jack. Anti looked back up at me, his eyes worried. He walked over to me, taking my bruising hand in his. Without questioning the injury, he waved his fingers over mine, healing me with ease. Although, his body shook, and skin paled over seconds after.

"Anti? Why would you-"

"Just say thank you," Anti said, sternly, locking onto my eyes. He placed his cold palm on my cheek, smiling weakly. "Please."

"Th- thank you..."

Anti pressed his lips against mine, blood mixing into our mouths. I pulled back, gasping at the sight. Anti wiped at the strange streaks of blood falling from his eyes, and turned away, body shaky. 

"Anti?" I questioned, voice shaky with fear.

Anti sighed, and looked straight ahead of him, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I'm sorry," he said, and disappeared.

I stepped back, eyes widening. Something inside me stirred, twisting my stomach in painful, nervous knots. I held my hands out at my sides, waiting for him to attack. A cold breeze cut through the room, sending chills down my spine. I spun around, gasping out in pain, as Anti wrapped a shaking arm around my shoulders. His other hand held onto the handle of a knife, wedged into my gut. I hunched over, blood spluttering from my mouth. Fuck.