Philophobia

Happier together

Hey guys.

(Image is by shuploc, which I think I spelled right, who has amazing septiplier fanart btw)

Sorry if this feels slow, I'm working the best I can on a story line that will last a while.

(Key word being "working")

Alright let's jump into this.

I can do this. Whew. Gotta get pumped up.

Let's write my dudes.

- Lyn, who is sorry for her awful grammar

Jack's POV:

There were things that I questioned myself about every day. Why was I alive? What did I want to do with my future? Why the hell was I staying in a cheap flat in New York City because I couldn't stand my life back home anymore?

These were all part of the ever expanding list of things I wanted answers to, but there was one question on the list that haunted me more than all of the others.

Why did I decide it would be a good idea to move into an injured stranger's home and take care of him?

To be fair, he saved my life. I owed him so much because of it. Moving into his home and committing to take care of him for weeks on end though? Was that really necessary? Whether it was or not was a topic up for debate, but it didn't matter at the moment. Currently I was to busy struggling as I attempted to get Mark's wheelchair over the hump at the foot of an elevator.

Not but a week or two after I had promised Mark that I would take care of him at home so that he could work on his 'project', he had been released from the hospital. I was given a bucket's worth of drugs that I had to make sure he took at certain times, and different ways to help him if he was in pain. The doctors didn't really want to release him, being that he had a broken arm, leg, and two fractured ribs, but seeing as he had so much to do they made a slight exception.

Because of this here I was, dealing with a wheelchair and trying to comfort a very tired looking Mark.

"Hey, we're almost to your apartment! Wow, I'm super excited to see what it looks like. It'll be awesome when you finally get to sleep in your own bed again and hang around at home, don't you think?"

I rambled on to my new friend, who turned and gave me a soft smile.

"Yes, it will be. Thank you so much for doing this." Mark replied kindly.

Ba-Bump.

For a moment as he spoke my heart sputtered, and I sensed a slight blush make its way on to my cheeks. I looked at the man in front of me, and felt my chest swell with something akin to pride and joy. Not understanding, I swallowed quickly and did my best to speak, ignoring my body's weird reactions.

"Y-you're welcome Maerk." I stuttered, my Irish accent thickening and causing me to say my friend's name strangely.

Mark chuckled softly, obviously noticing my heightened accent, and as the elevator doors opened signaling we were on the top floor, the American raised his okay arm toward the end of the hall and pointed.

"Onward!" He shouted, suddenly filled with enthusiasm.

I froze for a moment, smiling slightly at his childishness, but then spoke again.

"Yes sir!" I called, and began to race down the path.

I ran down the hallway at a pretty quick pace, and I was beginning to sweat lightly from the challenge of pushing both Mark and his medicine.