Crashing. (A JSE×reader fanfic)

Numbness

 August 16th, 11:10 p.m.

The clock haunts you in the corner of the room. 11 p.m., and you still refuse to go home. You dont want to sit in the emptiness of your apartment, listening to the silence where his voice once cheerfully bounced. Or where it angrily stabbed into you...

  You sigh, burrying yourself deeper into Mark's couch, watching as he made his Sim cook something for the entire clan. He doesnt typically play sims in his down time, in fact, this is your game, left here after the two of you attempted to create a monster family that ended up eating one another. You arent exactly sure why he opted to play Sims instead of one of his more liked games like WOW or GTAV. But it seems as though he didnt want to leave you alone in the livingroom.

  You're greatful for his company, despite the gnawing silence that hovers between you. It has been bugging you for hours, but you cant force yourself to break it, somehow feeling as if you deserve the torment of silence. It seems as though Mark is equally unsettled by it, but he doesnt attempt to break it either, seeming to purposely avoid his typical silly outbursts. He seems to understand that this time, it wouldnt work to make you feel better like it normally does.

  You disinterestedly look to your phone, hoping that when you reach out to take it from the arm of the couch beside you that it would show any sign of a respone. As you draw it up to your face, you find yourself disappointed.

  You'd texted Jack 10 times since you calmed down from your little outburst. Rereading the one sided conversation breaks your heart in half.

You: Im sorry..
Sent: 12:27 pm
You: please...
Sent: 1:30 pm
You: Seán can we please talk?
Sent: 1:45 pm
You: Ik your angry, but please just come home...
Sent: 2:19 pm
You: im sorry. Ill say it a million times if youd just respond...
Sent: 4:30 pm
You: can you at least answer a text since you wont pick up the phone?
Sent: 4:46 pm
You: please tell me you're alright. Im worried.
Sent: 6:29 pm
You: are you really that angry?
Sent: 7:58 pm
You: please Seán.... please at least tell me you're ok.
Sent: 8:00 pm
You: Seán? I love you. Im sorry. I miss you...
Sent: 8:51 pm

  You stare at the screen for a long moment, rereading your messages, replaying sending each one over and over. You began to type another message but quickly delete it. Mark pushed it out of your hands a little less than an hour ago now. At first, the swirl of emotions crashing around inside you told you to be angry at him for it. He told you in a stern but gentle tone;

"Give it space and time. Even machines need time to cool down after a long day." He then, gently took the phone from you and sat it on the arm of the couch, turning back to the TV to continue playing the game. And here you are now, phone in hand, wanting to text him again...

  You peel your eyes away from the screen to look over at your best friend sitting next to you on the couch. His eyes dont leave the screen, but even from the side profile, you could see the distant lack of focus on anything in particular. He seems to just be mindlessly playing the game. You wonder if it works, staring blankly at the screen like he's doing. You doubt it... 

   Today seems unreal, as if none of it had happened at all, just as if a clumsy fuck up while distinguishing reality from fantasy had occured. But here you are, sitting with an equally numbed up friend, watching him play some game to try and distract you both from the pain that will eventually spill out of you all over again.

   You picture Mark, bracing his shoulder against a door in your mind, trying his best to keep the beasts behind it as they bang and clammor against him. He tries so hard to be a bandaid on a gunshot wound. Typically, it works for the most part. But this time... can he fix things this time?

   He catches you staring at him from the corner of his eye, looking in your direction, offering you a weak smile. Your eyes fall away from him, feeling far too heartbroken to return it. Not this time... Its far too much to ask of him to just fix it all, and make you better. Its not fair either, after all, you werent there for him when he needed you..

  You suck in a breath, feeling as though you'd fogotten to take one in hours. You cant allow youself to be guilty over the past now. You cant add old tinder into a new flame. You release the breath slowly, still feeling Mark's eyes pinned on you.

"Hey..." his quiet voice barely breaks the silence for the first time in hours. You allow him your attention, turning your heavy head his way.

"Things will be alright." He says, trying to sound sure despite his uncertain tone. You look away, unable to handle how cliché he sounds. He sucks in a shakey breath and you feel guilty for not accepting his words.

"Wanna play something? Get your mind off of it?" He offers you the second player remote, but you shake your head, replying with a weak polite smile. He places the gamepad on the couch and goes silent again for a moment, seeming to think of a solution.

  Eventually he lets out a breath from his nose, turning off the game. He stands from his seat and begins placing a disk in the console. You watch him, curious as to what he opted to do next. He turns back to you, a goofy smile spread across his lips as he makes his way back to the sofa. You glance up at the tv, looking to see what game he placed in, but instead find the menu to your favorite movie.

  You turn back to him, trying your best to smile whole heartedly. He returns it and presses play, walking into the kitchen to start the popcorn as usual.

  After a moment he flops back next to you, shoving a fistfull of the buttery corn in his face. Your chuckle surprises you as it falls out, drawing his attention. He tries to smile at you despite his full cheeks, eliciting another small laugh from you.

  Mark may not be able to cure your sadness or fix all of your issues, but he helps ease them. He's been nothing short of a superhero to you, and you arent sure where to begin in thanking him for all the efforts he makes to help you through your rough patches.

  He chuckles himself and offers you the bag, you take a handful, having not eaten all day, you're surprised you arent more hungry. Perhaps heartache has a way of numbing hunger. Or perhaps its not numbing at all, but simply being masked by the pain in your chest. You arent entirely sure.

  The two of you watch the movie, but before it even reaches the halfway point, you feel your eyes growing heavy. What with the lack of sleep last night, and the hell of this morning, you're surprised sleep hasnt intruded on you sooner.

  You arent sure what drives you to lay your head on Mark's shoulder, but he throws an arm around your shoulder as if its perfectly normal for you to do. After all, the two of you are friends, right? You'd do this with Bell with no issue, why would it make a difference with Mark just cause he's a guy?

  But it still feels odd. The pit in your stomach flips slightly, almost driving you to pull away. But why? You dont have feelings for Mark. Is it the guilt of doing this, knowing Jack would ball his fists at the sight? Or is it the nagging thought that this isnt Jack you're leaning on?

  You let out a hot breath, adjusting yourself closer against Mark's warmth. Why do you care what Jack thinks now anyway? He hasnt responded to anything you've done to reach out to him... Its not like he'd want to be here anyway. After all, he left. Sure you may have told him too, but he wanted to long before that... right?

  Your eyes begin to drift closed despite your efforts to keep them open. The world around you starts fading away, and the figure next to you becomes a block of solid comfort with no name or face. You welcome it, wrapping an arm around it's front, pulling yourself against it before allowing yourself to fall victim to sleep.