Selfish *Markson AU*

Chapter Seven

I honestly don't even know what to say. Does "Sorry for the long wait!"even cut it anymore? I keep coming back to this chapter, rewriting it, changing everything and starting over again and again to the point where it has become a mini book on this version of Jackson. I'd like to say that I'm really busy with my life, but the truth is instead of having a  life I have a huge chunk of writers block. Well anyways enjoy, even if it's all about a character almost people hate :)

Chapter 7

Rock Bottom. Jackson laid on the cold floor of the bathroom, his tears slowly drying on the white tiles. He can faintly hear his cellphone ringing, probably his work, wondering where he is. He gave up on running to the phone, heart filled with hope, only to have it immediately crushed when it wasn't Mark's voice that greeted him. Jackson knew he should get up, to get on with his life, but that was too hard, the hole in his chest ached whenever he breathed. Jackson just wanted a second chance, a glimmer of hope even. Curled into a ball on the floor didn't help anyone, but it was the only thing he had the strength to do. His cellphone continued to ring, taunting him to answer. Jackson let out a deep sigh and slowly started to get up, kicking away the empty bottles of alcohol that surrounded him. Following the sound of his phone, Jackson stumbled through the hallway of their apartment, head still spinning from last night's bad decisions. Finding it on the couch, he looks at the caller I.D., work of course. He hits the ignore button and flops down onto the couch, exhausted from the short journey. He thought about Mark, where he could be, if he was happy. Fresh tears started to form in his eyes as he thought about Mark, his smile, his eyes, his voice that Jackson so desperately wanted to hear.

How could he just leave me high and dry? Selfish Bastard.

Jackson's phone began to ring again and he let out an anguished scream. It was Bambam, he should answer this time. He hit the green button and slowly raised the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Jackson croaked out.

"Hey, still sick huh?" Bambam's cheery voice boomed out of the phone's speaker, making Jackson cringe. His excuse was a pitiful one, but it worked.

"Yeah, it's not getting better." He holds in a sob, trying to sound sick instead of dying.

"Maybe you should go see a doctor, I could drive you if you are too-"

"No, that's alright. I'll be okay." Jackson hoped that his friend couldn't tell he was lying.

"Work is wondering where you are, they want you to come in for a day at least. sick or not." He could tell even Bambam was getting fed up with him. Making another excuse, he hung up shortly after and threw his phone onto the cushion beside him. It's only been two weeks, but time passes slowly when you are alone. The first couple of days he sat in denial, staring at the tear stained note Mark had wrote. Then his infamous anger took over as he nearly tore down Jinyoung's front door, looking for any sign of Mark. He was dragged out by a very pissed Jaebum and soon pulled off their property and arrested by the police. With no one else to call, Bambam had picked him up, finding out that Mark had left.

Jackson spent the rest of the time angry, until even his anger burned out and he was left numb. He tried going out at night, to random clubs where you show any sign of money and all the girls start lining up, but the only thing he found any use in was the alcohol. These days he didn't even bother going to the clubs, just to the liquor stores, buying bottles of whatever he could afford, wasting away his rainy day fund. He was going to take Mark to America to see his family, but since that wasn't happening, he couldn't think of anything else he wanted.

Jackson knew he should get help for himself, fix his growing alcohol problem, maybe even his anger issues if they ever reappear. He realized how much his anger has taken over his life, as well as his relationship with Mark. Jackson wanted to take back every nasty word, every hit and punch he ever laid on the poor guy. Mark had every right to leave, but that didn't ease the pain that tore through Jackson every time he thought of him. Jackson took to drinking to numb his thoughts, only when sober does he feel the pain.

Jackson stood up and stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing the nearest bottle of alcohol and taking a huge gulp. He drank until he lost all emotion and he was numb again, Mark was barely a whisper in his mind. It was early in the morning, but time might as well have been frozen for how slow it moved.

Jackson drank until there was nothing left in the house except water from the tap. He must've blacked out again as he was laying in the middle of the hallway, a glass bottle smashed near his feet. He rubs his face and slowly makes his way to stand, head pounding from the constant drinking. Even then he was only able to lean against the wall, head pressed against the cool surface. Eventually he started walking throughout the house, looking for his wallet and keys. Jackson needed to buy more alcohol in order to function, he knew it wouldn't be save to drive in his condition so he walked out of the apartment complex and into the hot afternoon streets of downtown Seoul. The sun beat down on him, sending massive waves of pain into Jackson's body, not used to seeing the light of day. He grit his teeth and pushed on, knowing the withdrawal symptoms would be worse. He catches a glimpse of himself in a window and he cringes at what he sees.

I look pathetic, weak. If Mark saw me now he'd probably laugh in my face, I am nothing. Powerless.

The thought of Mark brought pain and even more determination to get to the corner store. The sun burned his eyes and he felt dizzy, but he wasn't far, the store was just across the road.  Jackson had zero patience to wait for the lights to change and since he didn't see any cars nearby he started walking across the road quickly, not really paying attention to anything else. He didn't see the pothole near the curb until it was too late, his foot got caught and he fell onto the curb, smacking his head on the warm concrete. Jackson's sight went burry and he could hear people around him, but everything felt heavy so he just closed his eyes and images of a beautiful blonde boy danced in his head as bright lights flashed and the smell of burning rubber filled the air.