Septiplier
"Mark!" Sean called, panting softly. He felt so sick, but he couldn't tell Mark that, "Wait up, will ya?"
"Wait up for what?" Mark asked, turning to him, "Is something wrong?"
"A-Actually" Sean started, putting on a smirk, "Race ya there!"
"Hell yeah!" Mark laughed, before sprinting on ahead of him. His mind clouded with the idea of winning, not noticing what's going on behind him. He didn't hear the noise
"Ha! Beat you!" Laughed Mark, as he turned to look at his boyfriend. Sean had stopped to grab a water bottle. He had barely moved at inch- probably just didn't want Mark to steal his water bottle like always. But, he did something odd. . . he poured the water onto his hands like he was cleaning them. Mark can't remember his hands having anything on them. . .
But Mark pushed those thoughts away and made his way inside. First, he made sure Chica was feed and watered. Then went back to the door, watching his boyfriend walk back in.
"I wouldn't have stolen your bottle" Mark whined, "Probably"
"See, that probably is the issue" Sean laughed, "I can't have ya stealing it"
"But whyyyy. Not like you're drinking ittttt" he whined again.
Jack froze for a second, like he was caught doing something bad. But then just laughed, "Me hands were sticky cos of ya sweaty hands"
"No way!" Mark gasped, "How dare you even say such a mean thing!"
"Sorry that the truth hurts, love~" Jack teased. Then looked around, "Fetch Daddy his hat like a good boy, yeah?"
"Hey, I can be Daddy as well" he scolded, "But here,"
Mark placed a kiss onto Sean's forehead before putting the hat on him. That cute smile from under the hat reassured Mark that everything was okay. Though something still felt off.
That is, until he saw Jack cough. Normally Mark would scoop him up but Jack had ran into the bathroom. Of course, Mark cased after but didn't open the bathroom door, privacy is key.
"Hey, Angel?" Mark cooed, "C'mon, open the door buddy. You sound so sick, why didn't you tell Daddy woo had a coughy?"
"I-I ain't spacing!" He whined between harsh and painful sounding coughs. He groaned in pain, and sounded like he was crying.
"Darling, I'm coming in" Mark grumbled. Jack went to protest or lock the door but Mark had already walked in. He bare witness to an awful site. . .
Blood was pouring from his lovers mouth. Shaky hands were outstretched towards the door as an attempt to close it. Fears cell from the coffee beans cheeks. Now Mark knew, and Jack couldn't hide it anymore. . .
"W-what. . . the fuck?" Mark mumbled, stepping backwards. This was a lot to take in, "Jack!? What's doing on!? Why are you coughing up blood!?"
"M-Marky, relax" Jack sighed, standing. He got himself cleaned up, before wrapping his arms around him, "Baby, I'm. . . very sick, and have been for a long time. I didn't want to tell you until it was getting close but. . . I only have a few more months to live. By then I'll be a skeleton of my former self. No one will recognize me- no one could ever love that. . ."
"I will always love you. . ." he mumbled, wrapping his arms around him, "How many months?"
"It's between 2 to 4."
"Then we'll spend those months together." Mark started. letting go, "But not just as boyfriend's"
Without a seconds hesitation, Mark got on one knee. He pulled out a ring, "I was going to propose today anyway. . .We'll just need to plan it out a lot quicker than I expected. But if you accpet Jack, I'll make your last months the best months of our lives. We'll live it out as if it's both our last days but. . .I know what you'll worry- I won't move on. So, if you do marry me- I swear I will carry on my life and try to find happiness again. Even if it isn't in your smile,"
Sean fell to his kness, before hugging him, "I-I was so sc-scared that if w-we got married. . . ya would n-never mo-move on. But if ya promise ya will. . .then w-we'll get married, and d-do all the things I've always wanted ta do"
"So, after we marry- we'll go to Korea, then German, then spend your last days in Ireland."
"Mark. . . that sounds like a fairy tale"
*~~~*
Expect part two to be out soon.
