Bully || Septiplier

Chapter Thirteen

So now I have 100 followers because I went back to my old account and followed all of my old followers (they deserve it, all of them are awesome). But aside from the benefit of them having an extra follower, my follow count has began to shoot up again
Maybe this is a start, even if it's considered cheating at getting followers but they were originally the people who followed me first so I guess it's not really cheating?
Anyways enjoy the chapter, I had to get that off of my chest
Also thanks so much for 700 reads!

JACK woke up to feel cold. At first, he didn't really know why he felt cold in particular, because as far as he was concerned he was wrapped in blankets and his house was heated and warm but something still felt off. His veins were icy, skin cold to the touch, and something wasn't right.

It was only when he looked behind him, in bed that he realized just what this was. The spot beside him was caved in, as if somebody else was there, but the blankets around it were brought down and messy and there was nobody. Then the memories of last night came back, and Jack's heart beat faster. Did that really happen? Did he throw up in front of Mark?

But anyways, where was Mark? Jack sat up in a slow movement, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawned and stretched and looked around, and there were Mark's clothes, on the ground, but that didn't make sense. Where the fuck was he? He wasn't outside naked. Jack was too tired to think, and he kind of wanted to go back to sleep and disregard the problem, but 1- he had school and 2- Mark was kind of his problem at this point.

He stood up and walked out of his room in his boxers, curiously looking around. He didn't want to wake his mother, even though Mark might have already done this. A theory came to mind - what if Mark freaked out, woke up Mrs. McLoughlin and his mother threw the other boy out of the house? Unlikely, but it made Jack move faster.

And then he realized the bathroom door was shut at the end of the hallway, the light was on and through the cracks cast small beams in the darkened hallway. Jack's heart beat faster. He awkwardly approached the door - unsure of his next movements - and paused when he was in front of it.

"Mark?" He said the other boys name with a quiet voice, but it still cracked in nervousness. He bit his lip when there was no reply, and lightly knocked on the door. He hissed in a quiet tone, "Mark, are you in there?"

There was no reply, but some shuffling from inside the room and a quiet noise that Jack couldn't decipher. Of course, this sent alarms flashing through his head and he knocked again, this time slightly louder. "I'm coming in," he loudly whispered into the door, and he grabbed the door handle and turned it and opened the door to his bathroom.

And there was Mark. But not how Jack expected him to be.

Mark was siting on the side of his bathtub, only wearing boxers, hair tousled and messy and faded. He was staring at Jack, as if he was the invader and this was Mark's house, as if Jack was an alien from another planet. But Mark's face was red, and his eyes were puffy and that wasn't right because Mark Fischbach never cried.

"What the fuck?" Was the first thing that Jack whispered to himself, but then he regretted it and took an unsure step towards Mark, who stood up almost accusingly but said nothing.

"I need to go," was what the red headed boy said after a moment if hesitation. His voice was cracked and broken and seemed looked strangely guilty. Of what, Jack didn't know. "Shit, I need to go, this was a mistake."

Jack was frozen stiff when Mark coldly walked past him. He barely had a chance to reach out after him, because he had no words and this is what he felt like he should do, but Mark turned around swiftly and snapped, "Don't touch me."

And then he stormed down the hallway, into Jack's room and grabbed his clothes. Jack observed, and didn't even get to the door frame when his clothes were on, and Mark was storming past him again, down the hallway, to his front door and out of his house.

**

Thousands of thoughts swarmed through Jack's head when he walked into English class. Would Mark be there? Why did he leave like that? Was he upset? Was he confused about the situation? Jack gulped; did he think they did something other than sleep in the same bed? It was a possibility, and it made Jack shift uncomfortably when he walked through the open classroom door.

Of course, on reflex, Jack's eyes were immediately drawn to Mark's seat in the far side of the room and he let out a short breath he didn't know he was holding when Mark wasn't there. He didn't even stop to wonder where Mark was - he was just grateful that he didn't have to deal with that right now. Call him selfish, but it was true.

He walked collectedly to his seat and sat down - Bob and Wade were already sitting in their spots in front of his, but without Mark there to command them, Jack knew they wouldn't do anything to him except maybe glare at him from time to time. Even though their glares kind of hurt, Jack recalled, it was better than being punched in the stomach.

For a while, class went fine. Mr. Johnson came by for reports on the project - he was a few seats ahead of Jack - and the Irishman was preparing himself; he was ready. Maybe today would be a good day. He almost smiled. But then the door opened, and there were footsteps, and Jesus Christ, in walked Mark Fischbach as if everything was fine and he wasn't a half hour late.

Jack felt his heart completely stop in his chest and he was sure his facial expression dropped a mood or two. Mark walked down their row, and didn't bother to glance at Jack when he took his seat. His heart didn't stop, but fell, because he knew what this meant - he was back to the same Mark Fischbach, the Mark that would definitely find him and beat him up after class and sputter names at him like an endless generator.

Jack looked down and rubbed his eye and tried not to do something stupidly obvious like sigh to himself or anything. Although he did hope Mark changed for good, who was he kidding? Around his friends, Mark and Jack couldn't be friends or even possibly anything more. Jack saw phosphenes and blinked them away.

And then Mr. Johnson was at Mark's desk, speaking to him inquisitively. "How is your project going? Who's your partner?" Mark opened his mouth bitterly, but for some reason with a dumb reflex, Jack was the one who spoke (or rather yelled).

"I'm his partner, sir, and we're doing fine, we're almost finished." Mark was awestruck, but still didn't glance at Jack, and Mr. Johnson only nodded as if the information satisfied him.

And then finally, in a rush of adrenaline, Mark looked over at Jack and brown and blue eyes connected. For some stupid reason Jack was on a high, and he didn't care that Mark was glaring at him, if he'd get beat up later it was worth it so long he could stare into his brown gaze. But Mark's sharp look held promise, hate, and maybe a few more deepened emotions but before Jack could decipher them, Mark sharply looked away. Bob didn't seem to notice their staring competition, but Wade was looking at Mark oddly, and flashed a weird glance at Jack.

Jack shrank back in his seat and tried to forget about the boy with the red hair and the promise he held.