Suddenly You're Gone (Markiplier x Reader) (Oneshot)

Oneshot

A/N: It's really dark. Read at your own risk--the risk of your emotional state deteriorating. (I feel really evil now ;-;)

Also, I know that Jack's real name is Sean, but because I'm used to saying Jack, the narration will call him Jack.

Your keys jingle in your hand.

"Hey, Mark, I'm gonna go buy some groceries. We're running low on fruit." You glance at his face, a short look or you'd never stop. "See you later." You lean in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Okay, see you." He reluctantly lets you go. If it were up to him, you'd always be by his side... but let's face it, that's unrealistic. "Luv ya!"

You give a close-eyed smile. "Love you too." Turning, you make your way out the door as it closes with a quiet thump behind you.

Mark watches the door for a few seconds more, then settles on the couch next to Jack, who's currently watching some brightly-colored cartoon on your wall-mounted flat screen TV.

You know those days, the ones where everything is perfect and nothing could possibly go wrong?

...This is not one of those days.

Something... is going to go terribly wrong.

Normally Mark would be really into watching American cartoons with Jack, but today he's a bit restless, more fidgety than usual. He finds himself tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch, counting the seconds, eyes darting around the room. He keeps glancing at the clock, watching in agony as the time ticks slowly along.

Suddenly, Mark freezes as he is struck with an intense feeling. It's overpowering, and hits him with the force of a truck. It's some strange, awful mix of worry, dread, grief, and shock, and with it comes the thought of...

"(Y/n)."

Jack looks up from the TV at Mark. "What?"

Abruptly Mark stands up. He looks down at his shaking hands, then up at Jack, as if to say something to the Irishman, but instead turns on his heel and starts running, out of the house and down the street. Jack, taken aback and lost for words, stands there for a moment before following at a slightly slower pace.

Somehow, instinctually, he knows where to go, just as he knew that something had happened to you.
Pieces of memory flash through his Mark's mind as he runs.

You, giggling a little at something he'd said.

You, playing with Chica with a huge grin on your face.

You, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, your face reassuring.

You, whispering to him how much you love him, how he's your everything, and how you'll never leave his side.

And then he rounds the corner, and feels his world begin to crumble around him.

First he sees the smashed car, the (f/c) one you loved so much, that had obviously been run into from behind. Then he sees you.

Suddenly Mark feels the strong urge to barf. He swallows, throat dry, vision swimming a little.

Your body is lying on the road next to the remains of your car, and from the looks of it, had probably been sent flying through the windshield upon collision. Your body was mangled, bloody... he can't bear to look.

Just then Jack arrives, puffing a little. He starts to speak, but then he sees the wreckage.

"Oh no." He glances at Mark, who had dropped to his knees on the asphalt and was starting to cry. "Oh fook," he mutters, before kneeling down next to Mark, deeply concerned about his friend and more than a little shocked about the accident that had occurred. She had been his friend too, had collabed with him a few times, but what he feels must be nothing compared to what Mark must be going through.

Mark begins to speak, his voice shaky and uneven in between the sobs. He doesn't look up from staring at his hands.

"I-I loved her, Jack. I-I-- Sh-she means everything to m-me, and now-- and now-- she's gone." He chokes out the last word with some difficulty, tears streaming down his face. He hiccups a little.

"I p-probably would've wanted to-- to-- to even m-m-marry her at some point, b-but--" His words are cut off as the tears begin to flow harder, faster.

Jack hesitates, but then wraps his arms around his friend's shoulders. Together, they sit like that for a while, Mark crying torrents, Jack doing what little he could to help.

Fin~

A/N: I'm a sick person, aren't I? Didn't I say you'd hate me? Do I seem like one of those people who'd drink my fans' tears (if I had any)? (Trust me, writing this made me die inside too.)