Seduce and Destroy {Septiplier}

Love and Loose

    "The floors cold," Mark complains as they lay on the worn down wood floors. "And I think I have ten splinters,"

    "Cant you just sleep,"

    "No. Not when the floors all rock,"

    "Then move closer to me," Jack says opening his arms and Mark scoots it. Huddling close.

    "Now I'm humid," Mark says and Jack throws up his hands,
    "Jesus cant please you for anything can I?"

    "Nope. Im a needy fuck," Then he flashes a devilish grin before Jack just wraps his arms around Marks waist.

    "Sleep pretty boy. Please. I haven't slept and its late," Jack whispers and Mark heaves out air.

    "Fine but only because of you," Then he rests his head against Jacks chest and Jack feels him fall asleep. Not to long later he does the same.

    "Hey Jackaboy ready to go," Mark asks facing away from him as he messes around with a few bags.

    "Yeah just give me a second," Jack answers as he takes a look at the stained glass. Its so pret- wait? What was that smell? He turns on his heel and sees Mark. "Mark what-," Mark spins around and Jack sees burn Marks running down his cheek. Bubbling red chemical burns.

    "I just go a tad thirsty. Not a big deal," Mark wipes away his mouth as blood begins to dribble down from his lips. Jacks face twists and he smells the air once more before things click.

    "Is that bleach? Did you-" Jacks voice fades and he begins to run to Mark as more blood comes from his mouth.

    "Doesn't taste half bad you know?" Marks voice is now wet as guttural sounds come from his throat.

    "Puke it up!" Jack screams when he reaches him. "Puke it up!" His vocal cords go shrill and he tries to force his fingers down his throat but the blood just makes the slide across his cheeks. Then Mark begins to choke.

    "Why wont you just puke godammit!" Then Mark does, but its anything but what Jack wanted. Its watery, red and a warning sign. "Oh jesus Mark why did you do this?" His hands feebly try to cover Marks mouth as if he can't see the vomit it'll go away but it simply leaks through the cracks of his hands and it runs all over the floor. But the smell. It smells pungent as the blood and bleach and whatever he ate mixes together.

    "You're all I have left now Mark! Why did you do this to me,"

    "Why are you so worried?" Mark asks as he watches Jack falls to his knees. His hands cover his face and everything he touched smears across his cheeks.

    "Because everything in my world right now is dying," Then he just hears the guttural throat sounds stop, a breath of relief floods through him before a loud thud rings out. Looking over, Jack starts to scream.

    "Jack! Jack wake up!" Marks shaking his shoulders and Jack wakes up with a start. Air breaks through his lungs and he lunges as Mark.

    "You," he whispers his voice breaking. "You're alive. Oh god," he allows smell of oranges and pine cones to replace the smell of puked up bleach.

    "Jack," Mark breaths out squeezing him tight, "You were screaming. Screaming like you were awake but I couldn't get you to respond to me. I was so scared," Jack dosent hear everything else he says as he just squeezes Mark.

    "I thought you were dead," Jack mumbles into his shoulder. "I thought you were gone,"

    "No darling I'm right here. I'm here," Squeezing his eyes shut Jack focus on Marks heartbeat. The continues ba boom ba boom ba boom until his own heartbeat slows and the feeling of lose fades.

    "I never want to loose you," Jack whispers and Mark nods.

    "You'll never have to,"

    Sliver ware clinking and the smell of warm syrup is no longer appealing and all Jack wants to do it eat and never look back. His dad had warned him and he had been right all along.

    "Why did you insist we go back here? You didn't even get to eat your beef hash?" Jack mumbles as they share a plate.

    "Well first off its better than being in that thunderstorm," Mark points outside and Jack has to shake his head in agreement at that one. "Second I didn't get to eat my corned beef hash," He repeats Jack and he gives a slight smile. A nagging feeling hasn't left his gut since the dream. Even with Mark sitting in front of him he still feels like he's lost him. "Jackaboy? Are you okay?" Mark says sticking down his fork. Jack puts up a false smile and a nod of his head.

    "Of course pretty boy," Even coming from his own mouth the words felt wrong and stiff. He wasn't okay and at the moment all he wanted to do was cry. He could even feel the painful lump in his throat and the constriction of his chest. He wanted to cry so bad but even at this stage, with Mark and everything else, he wasn't worthy. Never was he ever going to be worthy because killers aren't worth the dirt they stand on.

    "Jack you aren't okay? Stop telling me you are," Jack shuts his eyes and hangs his head low.

    "I feel like you're gone already," He whispers and Mark nods his head in understandment.

    "Let me tell you a story," Suddenly his voice becomes ten times more mature and wise almost. Jacks head shoots up in confusion.

    "A story?" He mumbles and Mark nods.

    "Won't take more than a few minutes," he states matter of factly like he'd told this story millions of times before.

    "About what?" Jack asks intrigued and Mark shuts his eyes and rests the back of his head against the booth.

    "Listen," So Jack does.