I'm Not Giving Up On You

CH: 2 You look like shit

(Mark's POV)

Mark awoke with a start as he realized where he was, in his recording studio, not in his room like he expected. He saw that he had fallen asleep watching one of Jack's videos. Soon the moment of confusion subsided and the previous night's events flooded his brain with more questions than he would have liked. Mark then remembered his mission, so he took a quick cold shower to wake himself up, after which he discovers the time is a fraction past noon. So he calls Jack up on Skype, only for no one to answer. Jack was always near some device he could answer Skype on. Mark tried his best to come up with an answer to Jack's silence, he could be in the shower? No he always takes his phone. Could have forgotten it? No Jack depended on his phone to much to just forget it. What was going on?!?! Mark called once more with again no answer. He waited a few minutes before reaching to call again, but to his relief Jack called back just then, so he hurriedly answered, only to be utterly shocked by what he found on his screen.

(Jack's POV)

The shrill sound of a Skype call yanked Jack out of his trance. He quickly stood, removing his soaked shirt and jeans. He then stepped out of the bathtub and turned on the sink. He ran his wounded arms under the running water, though it stung he didn't scream, he was far too used the feeling for that, besides, he deserved it, right? As the water collected in the bottom of the white sink it turned a nasty Crimson color. He shakily dabbed a washcloth over his now clean arms, he didn't want to start the bleeding again. He then enters his room, where he puts on a clean decontaminated hoodie and sweat pants. He then sat down in his chair, by then the caller, Mark, had called twice, and the last call had been three minutes prior. Nervously checking his sleeves, Jack called Mark back, in which he immediately answered.

Mark gasped at Jack as Jack focused his attention to his webcam. "What?" Jack asked nervously, what if he found out? What if Mark knew what Jack had been doing, he would hate him, he would think of Jack less than he most likely already did. He would make fun of Jack for his stupid decisions. He would hate Jack for lying he would call him a stupid child for his quick fix of a choice he would- Jack's unhappy thoughts were interrupted by Mark's worried voice. "Are you alright Jack? You look like shit." Jack smiled a bit, Mark normally had this affect on him, always knowing how to make Jack smile. "Thanks for ta compliment Merk." Shite his accent came out, he was sure Mark caught it by the look on his face. Jack's accent always got heavy when he was nervous. "You didn't answer my question, are you alright?" Mark said sternly. " I'm fine Merk I've just been a bit sick lately." Mark continued to inspect Jack. "Is that blood on your cheek!" Mark shouted at the screen. Jack quickly glanced at his profile that was displayed in the corner of the screen, and sure enough on his left cheek, just before his sideburn began was a small smudge of red. "Well I-" Jack paused for a second thinking of an excuse. "Cut myself in ta kitchen, got a bit o' blood on me hands I suppose. Tats why I wasn't answerin' yer calls." Jack mentally patted himself on the back for his quick thinking excuse that covered two subjects. "Alright." Mark said skeptically. Then Mark's eyes lit up with an idea. "How about for the first week of my vacation I come to Ireland to spend time with you! We haven't seen each other in forever! Would you like that?" Mark said excitedly, although Jack did want to see Mark again, and he wouldn't want to upset him by telling him no, him coming here, to Ireland, the only place he was able to hide. "No Merk, I wouldn't want to take up your valuable free time." Jack said shakily, hoping it would work. "You wouldn't be taking it up, I want to see you, and I've never been to your house before." Mark stated, leaving Jack's only option to get rid of Mark to say that he didn't want Mark there, but he couldn't get the words to come out. He couldn't stand the look that would come over Mark's face, the face of disappointment. Jack didn't think he could take anymore disappointed looks, if he got one from Mark he might just keel over. "Ok, when are yeh coming?" Jack said in utter defeat. His body seeming to curl into itself. "I'll fly out on Friday, so in your time I'll get there late Saturday night." Jack nodded slightly. "Alright, I'll pick yeh up at t'airport, just call when yeh land." Jack said quietly. Mark nodded, "Alright I'll leave you to do whatever you were doing it the kitchen, buh bye." Mark said, ending the call.

Now it was Jack's turn to lean back in his chair and groan, he would have to hide everything. So Jack would just have to finish his earlier task before worrying about anything else. So he left his room, returning to his small bathroom. He took his blood soaked clothes out of the tub and set them in a premade solution that took the blood out of everything, he would leave them in it overnight and wash the solution out the next day, he should really just release his tension over the bathtub instead of in it. Just another thing he did wrong. He then washed his razor, and headed to bed, he really wasn't in the mood to film.

{Mark's POV}

In just a few day's Mark was going to get to see Jacksepticeye's house, something he had never had the privilege of doing. But that wasn't what was keeping him up at night, what kept him up was Jack's odd behavior, he was almost certain Jack would have told him he couldn't come, but it didn't take much for Jack to give in, which was strange. Jack was normally very stubborn. Mark was hoping staying at Jack's house would either give him the answers he wanted, some how, or Jack would tell him. But Mark had to be ready to finish his extra videos tomorrow so he forced himself to forget about his troubles and fall asleep, although it took hours, but sleep finally tugged him under, much to his delight.

Hey my lovely Peeps. This story reached over 1300 words. But yeah, I have no idea what I'm gonna do in the next chapter, but we'll see where it goes. But again, I want you guys to know that this story may not be as accurate as I'd like it to be, but this is as accurate as I can get it with the knowledge I possess of depression and all the stuff that's going on. If someone going through depression reads this I'm so sorry if this isn't accurate, but I hope that maybe the way it ends helps you understand that there is always multiple ways out. And I hope that through this story I can do my part to raise awareness to people who have depression or anxiety or are having a shitty time with something. And I hope that you/they can find a way to get out of that hole, and that you/they can find someone to talk to, to vent through. So always keep hope in the light at the end of tunnel, however small it may be.

-That Weird Author