happiness / m.f. x a.n.

• one •

Hello! Before we start, I want to tell you guys a few things. I'm in NO way claiming any of these characters to be mine, because they are real and existing people. However, their thoughts and this entire story was made up by me. If you see something similar to this story somewhere else, please let me know!

In case you did not read the warnings, I will sum them up for you again;
suicidal thoughts, depression, slight social anxiety, eventual smut (maybe), mature language (such as swearing) and violence.

This chapter has a trigger warning, which I'll let you guys know it has with those dots in front of the chapter numbers, and behind the chapter numbers.

Now, I'm sure this is annoying so I'll let you read. Enjoy :)

///////////////

Mark's P.O.V.

At the office, 4:30 pm. Monday.

It felt as if I had been robbed of what is my most precious thing. And that was exactly what happened. My dad left me, to be alone. Who would I go to now? How would I, a 27 year old single man, ever survive without him? Or without his advice?

His death had been so sudden, yet it could have been prevented. It was the worst death a person could have, though. My dad had gotten into a car crash, and the car had rolled and rolled until it came to a stop. Then it went up in flames.

Flames.. Those are the things that killed my dad. Which is why every time I saw a little bit of a fire, or even the smallest flame, I would burst out crying. It felt unreal. The fact that my dad, my dearest, had just left.. It was hard to believe.

The driver that came from the other side, was in the wrong lane. They were obviously, seeing as he was reeking of alcohol when we went to the scene. He also couldn't even walk straight or say anything without slurring his words out. It was weird, to see all the ashes of the car. The fire had already been set out before we had arrived. What broke me most, though, was the fact that my dad was now part of those ashes.

I shook my head, and continued on all the paperwork I had in front of me. No, I wasn't a CEO. I wasn't anything big. I was just a secretary, the secretary of the CEO. My dad used to be the CEO. "Why did you not take the job after your dad, then?" Well, apparently, my brother Thomas was more responsible (in my dad's mind) and so he was put in the place of my dad and thus became the new CEO.

I didn't complain though. I never complained. I had what I had, and it was for a reason. My dad used to tell me that "everything happens for a reason" and I believe that. I'm just doing my job, and trying to move on with my life.

I hoped that I could move on, anyway. It was as if I'd dwell on this forever, and ever.

The relationship between my dad and me, was strong. He loved me, and cared for me. Just as much as I loved him, and cared for him. Or maybe a tad bit more. I used to tell him everything. How my first kiss was, how much I adored people who had a positive impact on the world, anything. He was my go-to person. I didn't know who to go to now that he was gone.

I hadn't realized that one tear slipped from my cheek, and fell down on the paper in front of me, smudging some words as they got wet. I quickly wiped at my eyes, and cleared my throat. Not that it would help or anything. I just liked to let myself believe that I didn't cry.

I'm not saying "real men don't cry" because that's complete and utter bullshit. My dad taught me that it was important to never hide my emotions. If I had to cry, I had to cry. If I didn't have to cry, I didn't.

Moving on from all this work, I realized that it was almost time to go home. So I packed my stuff, and waved to my brother as I walked past his office. He smiled, and waved back.

At Mark's apartment, 6:12 pm. Monday.

I went to my own apartment, knowing that if I had went to our house, I would have broken down.

I threw myself on my bed. Face first. Then I realized that I would probably die from suffocating (which, if you'd ask me, was fine with me) so I turned over on my back.

I promised myself that I would not let all those thoughts come crashing down on me. I was tired of  those thoughts. It felt as if that's all that was on my mind these days.

Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself..

It was chanted inside of my head whenever I was alone with my thoughts. Of course I knew that I was too much of a scaredy cat to do it though. So I shut those thoughts out, and closed my eyes.

Maybe, just maybe.. If I slept.. I would forget about it all.

At Mark's apartment, 7:48. Monday.

I woke up, at the sound of a dog howling. I tried to ignore it, but it seemed as if it got louder and louder every time I closed my eyes again. I sighed loudly, and stood up from my bed.

I walked to the window, and opened it. I was ready to yell at the dog, or whoever was the owner, but all I saw was the cutest pupper ever. My heart grew 10 sizes when I saw it look up at me, tilting its head to the side a little bit.

I never ran that hard in my life.

As I got downstairs, and opened the doors of the apartment complex, I saw the most gorgeous puppy ever. It ran to me almost immediately. It had no name tag, and I hadn't seen it before either. Believe me when I say that I know a goddamn lot about our neighborhood. If I had ever come across such a beautiful puppy, you best believe I'd have recognized it.

I looked around, searched around, and yelled. But no one seemed to have lost a puppy. I decided that after a whole hour, it was obvious that it wasn't of anyone from anywhere near me. So of course, me being the biggest dog lover ever, I took it upstairs.

When I opened the door, the puppy ran into it almost immediately. It was weird to see an animal so lonely get used to being with someone so easily. I loved it, though. I watched it play around with whatever it had found and sat on the couch.

Almost 2 hours later, and I jumped up from my spot from the couch. "AHA!" I yelled, scaring the puppy. I closed my hand over my mouth, apologizing (even though I knew the dog wouldn't understand). I pat my lap, and the puppy came running almost immediately. I booped its nose, and whispered -while I was holding its paw- "your name is gonna be Chica, you adorable thing."

Of course, no reaction, other than the dog waggling its tail. I knew what breed the dog was. A golden retriever, and I knew its gender too. It's a girl. So I found that Chica fit perfectly.

I was so astonished at the fact that a puppy could make me feel so much happier. She was just there, and that made me feel happy all on its own.