Trust Your Instincts

-43- What Do You Want?

 Mark let the phone ring out for the fourth time, being greeted once again by Jack's less than polite voicemail. He made the mental note that he'd have to talk to Jack about that. It was quite rude.

 Now wasn't the time to think about that though, Mark was worried about Jack now. He should have made it home before Mark and Laurel did, yet Mark still couldn't seem to get a hold of him.

 Was he really that angry at him for opting to walk home with Laurel instead of him? Upon reflection, he could understand why Jack might be jealous about it. Another apology was added to Mark's list of things to say to Jack when he next saw him.

 After the fifth consecutive call, Mark decided that it was better to leave it for the night and go to bed. If Jack was angry with him, the last thing to do is frustrate him any further.

 Mark lay his head on the pillow, keeping the phone within reaching distance if Jack decided to call back. Maybe he had fallen asleep before he got the chance to call, Mark couldn't just assume he was angry. The thought calmed his mind, and before long, he was able to sleep.

---

Mark woke up the next morning, checking his phone immediately before his eyes had fully adjusted to the change in light, squinting harshly at the bright screen. He smiled and sighed in relief. One message notification.

 Once he had finally become accustomed to the rays of sunlight seeping through the cracks in his blinds, Mark unlocked his phone, and went to his messages, the thought of the message not being from Jack not even crossing his mind until he read the contact name.

 Ken.

 Mark wasn't sure how to feel about that. Of course, he was ecstatic that his old friend wanted to speak again, it'd take a lot of weight off of his shoulders to straighten things out with the poor guy, but his excitement was dampened by his displeasure that Jack hadn't contacted him yet.

 Maybe it was too early. If Mark remembered right, Jack wasn't much of a morning person. He composed himself and opened the text from Ken, noting that it was sent at 4:57am.

 'Heeeeeey Mark! Listen. I wamna tell uou that i'm so so sorry aboit everythign that i did to you. I know i'll regert this text in the morning. But i'm so lonely. I hate myself for what i did to you and Jaxk, and i just want to sort things out with you! please text back, you're my only friend..'

 Mark reread the text several times, an overwhelming sense of pity washing over him as he absorbed the words. Ken was obviously drunk, but what scared Mark was the thought that he might be drinking alone. 

 Mark replied, trying his best to convey through the text that he was genuinely interested in meeting up somewhere. It was Sunday, and so he decided that the best time to talk would be at school tomorrow. He knew for a fact that Ken wouldn't be awake yet, and so didn't hang around waiting for a reply.

 His thoughts returned to Jack, and his worry was immediately restored at the thought. He found him in his contacts, and brought the phone up to his ear. It rang. Once again, there was no answer. Instead he was greeted by the all too familiar voicemail. "It's Jack. You know what ta do." 

 His mind was racing. He was putting together theories that seemed impossible, each one concluding that Jack hated him. He decided not to phone again, and instead got ready to leave him house, lying to his dad that he was going over to Isaac's to study.

 He walked as fast as he could towards Jack's house. Every second that passed was another second where he was left to think about the possible reasons Jack was choosing not to answer. 

 Mark reached Jack's apartment building in record time, for him at least. He ascended the stairs two at a time before he was adjacent to flat number eight.