Philophobia

Fate or kindness?

The darkness was Mark's world as he walked through the emptiness that he could only assume was his dreams.

Pictures of memories flashed before his eyes, some inducing tears, and others bringing him close to a smile.

Most of the things he saw were doing up recollections from his past, and memories from very recently. His mother's teasing smile. His first time seeing one of his friends find their soulmate. The war he had fought in. The friends he had watched die. The blue eyes of the man in the street.

If he were to be honest, he didn't really want to watch all of this play out. That's part of the reason Mark was an early riser, and late to bed. He despised sleeping, because every time he closed his eyes all he could see was all that he had lost.

He attempted to cover his face, shut his eyes, to do anything to stop the flashbacks. Mark willed himself with everything he had to wake up.

Nothing seemed to be working though, and the blood got redder and the loss stronger as pictures panned out continuously in front of him.

"Wake up." He urged himself, softly at first. "Wake up, wake up, please wake up!"

Getting increasingly louder, the man was growing desperate.

Then, a soft tug on his shoulders began to pull him away from the scene, and a voice calling his name got increasingly louder as Mark felt himself slip back into the arms of reality.

"Mark. Mr. Fishbach? Should I call you Mark or Mr. Fishbach? Ugh, who cares. MARK, wake up!"

Groggily, Mark turned his head towards the sound of the voice and tried to shield his eyes from the light. The movement of his arm caused a sharp pain to go throughout his body, and he grunted in discomfort.

"Don't move, dummy! You're really hurt, and it's kind of all my fault...ha...Oh, sorry for waking you up. You just looked really stressed, I think you were having a nightmare."

Mark finally managed to open his eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the room. He looked to his left to see a beautiful pair of blue eyes looking down at him. Inhaling sharply at the unexpected sight, he felt panic rising in him. Taking a deep breath, he quickly composed himself.

"Where am I? I don't remember what happened. Were you the guy I saw while I was out running?"

"Uh, ya dude. My name's Sean. Most people call me Jack, but, looking at how you saved my life, I think you can call me Sean. Oh, and you're currently in the hospital. Not sure which one, was to nervous about your life being at stake when I came in, but you are at one. Probably."

For the first time Mark noticed that the blue eyed ma- Sean, had a very thick Irish accent.

"I kind of figured that out Sean, but thanks for the update." Mark teased.

Sean blushed lightly and scowled down at Mark. Before Mark could even ask again about what had happened, the Irish man quickly answered his question.

"You were hit by a car. It all happened very fast, so it's not surprising you don't remember. You wouldn't have gotten hit by it if it weren't for me though. I was stupid, standing out in the middle of the road. The car was going way to fast, but still. I should have gotten out of the way. I didn't though and you ended up...ended up..."

Mark's eyes slowly began to widen as he began to remember everything.

"Sean, it isn't your fau-"

"Yes it is! I barely even knew you, but when you got hurt I got so worried. You didn't know me at all, yet you made a split second decision to save my life, even though it would put yours in danger. I'm sorry I'm getting so emotional, It's just, if you had died I would have never forgiven myself for being the cause of it."