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Sunday 26th November ~ 10:14am

Mark's POV:

When I woke up in an unfamiliar bed it took a moment for the world to make sense.

The ceiling above me wasn't a familiar one, which was as good as it was bad. I was not in my bedroom, yet I was also not in my cell.

That and a soft mattress was an upgrade from the concrete floor I'd been sleeping on.

A tuft of green hair entered my vision as I shifted my gaze, finding Jack's head rested on the crook of my neck. His breathing was gentle, and being able to feel his chest rising and falling brought me comfort.

When he'd passed out on me I'd thought the worst.

The younger man mumbled softly.

I didn't want to risk disturbing Jack, yet I knew I couldn't stay here forever.

Then again a few minutes longer couldn't hurt.

Perhaps it was the fact that I was still half asleep, but I hadn't felt this tranquil for a long time. All the pressures of yesterday were eased.

He really was alive.

When I finally did slip out of bed, setting him down against the sheets, Jack grimaced.

"Mm..."

I stood, turning to find a pair of dazed blue eyes watching me.

"How're you feeling?" I asked, watching his gaze sweep the room. I could tell he was more awake this time.

"Like I just got hit by a fookin' truck..." Jack murmured, shifting. I chuckled. "Who's bed is this...?"

I scratched the back of my neck, hesitant. "I actually... have no idea." I confessed. "You were in bad shape and there was nowhere else we could go so I just kinda kicked the door down?"

Jack stared at me, as though looking for some signs that I was joking. He didn't find any.

"We've been here for two days now." I explained. I could've mentioned Anti's fucked up journal or the dead couple that used to live there, yet Jack hadn't been awake for longer than five minutes. I decided to give it some time before I freaked him out with my 'discoveries'.

"You... You're being serious, aren't ye..." Jack mumbled, coughing and crying out weakly. I gave him a sad smile.

He then attempted to sit himself up.

"Hey, not so fast!" I exclaimed, watching Jack stifle a whimper as he moved. I went to help him. "Sean, you need rest."

"We need to... find our way home..."

"We will, but you can't walk in your condition and I can't carry you for that long." I pointed out, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Jack tried to move again.

"I can... I can do it, Mark."

"You can't right now. Jack, you can't even move without-"

"I'm fine-!"

"No you're NOT Sean!"

Jack's gaze fell.

"I had to break us out! I had to carry you for hours, crying like a fricking baby because I thought you were gonna bleed to death before I could save you!"

Jack's eyes met mine, and I fought to keep the tears at bay. "Even when I got all the bandages, and did everything I could, I was so fricking terrified, Sean. You were unconscious for nearly two days!"

I kept my eyes on him. The man I'd fought to save.

"I wasn't ready to lose you like that."

An exhale escaped me, and I watched Jack's expression soften. The two of us spent a moment in silence.

I was beginning to regret my outburst after a minute.

"Mark..."

Jack's voice cracked.

"...I'm so sorry."

I received a weak smile, one that I had missed seeing. "You went through all that... just to save my ungrateful ass."

I flashed him a grin. "Hey, don't be so hard on your ass." I advised, leaving us both in a fit of laughter.

"You thinking about my ass Mark?" Jack questioned. "Das kinda gay."

I gasped, pretending to be offended.

"Not to mention, you seem to have taken my shirt off." Jack commented, glancing down at his torso. I had replaced the strips of hoodie cloth on his arms with white gauze, along with some new bandages for his chest. I cringed at the reminder.

"Your shirt was kinda wreaked." I said, averting my gaze. "It was torn to shreds. Not to mention all the... uh, blood."

Jack's expression dropped. I didn't want him feeling miserable again. "I got what I'm wearing from one of the bedrooms." I said, motioning to my outfit. "You could probably find something that'd fit you."

Jack nodded.

"Is there food? My stomach's killin' meee." Jack whined, rolling over and looking up at me upside down. I laughed.

"We can go downstairs and get some if you're a good little child." I explained, earning a breathless giggle. We were laughing together again - something I had thought would remain a distant memory, and in that moment one realisation overtook me:

I never wanted to risk losing Jack again.

"Okay Momiplier!"

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