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Finally

(Hey guys! I'd like to give a big thank you to those who read this. To be 100% honest there's a lot more effort put into this story then my most popular one, because I've lost inspiration for "Aftermath." Anyway, if you didn't notice, I updated the cover, I hope you like it & you enjoy this chapter that I took to long to update :)

Jack laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he felt his body go numb. His mind had found a new favorite movie, a new favorite scene, his memories acted like a record player.
It would scratch and then replay the same part of a song until you're sick of it. He wouldn't say he was sick of the memory, rather, his mind refused to fully acknowledge it. The insanity behind the songs lyrics.

"Me too."

It was so simple, yet it felt like one of those melodies that at the first listen through sounds like a love song, until you learn the words, and then suddenly it's so much more then some catchy pop song. It was more then this simple thing called "love." This overused word that doesn't even have a complete definition, just expression and interpretation.

The feeling was so crazy and complex, it didn't deserve such a straightforward word like "love." It deserved a whole book of words, all with different definitions. So people actually understand the meaning behind the words "I love you."

One for the feeling where your chest is heavy and thick, you feel ill because of how mad someone else can drive you. Your head will spin and you just have to sit down and hug yourself.

One for when your face is hot and your stomach twists, where your whole body feels warm you're simply embarrassed and flustered.

Another for when your chest feels swirly and all throughout your body you feel bubbly, it's pure and you can't help but squeeze yourself and hold a quick excited smile. Before relaxing your body to feel warm and content, in all it's pureness, you're happy.

And just a million others.

Days on end had passed, and for Jack, it felt like the world was giving Mark and him all its attention. Situations would line up pleasantly, opportunities were always there, and Jack hadn't felt as happy as then in years. And when it came down to it, it really was all the little things. The times where Mark would come over and play video games, and they'ed end up laughing so hard they cried. Or the moments where Jack would catch Mark just staring at the cracks in the walls or the sweeping curtains, and he'd feel as warm emotion clouded him when a smile would play at Marks lips.

Jack was rarely blue anymore. He noticed it quickly, too, because he wasn't just happy when he was with Mark, he was happy when they were apart because he could think about him. He could sit silently and feel content knowing he had a reason to exist the next day. Even on the cold mornings where the bitter air would prick at Jack's bare back, he smiled at the thought he could slip on something nice, then Mark's jacket he had borrowed, and the meet Mark at the front of the school so they could walk in together.

That night, though, had been the third in a row where Jack hadn't slept. Maybe it was the excitement for tomorrow, he thought at first, but Jack knew better.

It was fear.

It felt so contradictory, because Mark Made him so happy, but when it was the middle of the night the shadows would still fall. To make sense of that, the bigger someones role in your life is, the larger shadow they cast when they stand to the east and the dim moonlight illuminates them. You're always reminded that they're there, because they shine in the light while still casting that shadow of fear on you. Fear that they'll walk away. That terror you'll lose them. And it only leaves when they do because, at that point, the shadows have won.