Philophobia

I'm Coming Too

Yo. Long time no see.
(Art belongs to Yuumei. Check her out.)
I want action! Drama! Make out sessions!
Jack and Mark are dating ppl why tf are we all here...
Anyway
Welcome to the shitshow- where I clearly know nothing about the police department.
Enjoy, lovelies.

I AM TAKING SUGGESTIONS (read my message board for more info)
- Lyn

"God! Jesus! Fuck!" Mark spat, running down slippery sidewalks as strangers gave him glares and sideways looks. Yelling strings of curse words was making his enormous sense of dread slightly better, but it wasn't the dread that bothered him.

It was whatever caused Jack to feel this scared.

His heart hadn't stopped pounding for almost two miles, and it wasn't just due to the running. Every corner he turned made him freeze. Any person he didn't recognize was an enemy. Every light, another way for people to find him. He stuck to the shadows as best he could, headed towards a destination he didn't know yet. He could feel Jack was close, because with every step he trembled just a little more.

Rounding into an alleyway, he paused. His eyes widened. He picked up the pace now, desperately sprinting through the downpour.
He was at the apartments, bitter and cold in the low light of the evening. Mud caked over his thighs, and somewhere, closer this time, sirens continued, blasting loudly. He ignored it, each step growing louder in the chaos of the night. A homeless man watched him pass by, and gave Mark a small nod as he left the apartment buildings. As if he understood something Mark didn't.

Out of breath and lungs on fire, he stopped. Coughing and falling to his knees, he struggled to remain upright. His clothes were soaked through, and he looked like a shitty stripper as they stuck to him like a leotard.

A taxi cab came up from his right, and Mark stood to hail it, or even jump in front of it if necessary. However, the deus ex machina slowed to a stop in front of him. The window rolled down.

"Need a ride?" The man spoke, a cigar poking out from between his lips.

He recognized him. This was the same taxi driver who had taken him to Central Park all those months ago. The one who'd talked about his own soulmate the very day he'd reunited with Jack.

In a world with soulmates, you would think people would have become used to "fate," and magical happenings between lovers. However, whatever force brought people together still held some shred of wonder, as Mark stared at the man while on the brink of tears. His whole body was rattling, cold sweat mixing with raindrops and mud. He looked like a disaster, and strangers avoided looking his way, but the taxi driver simply watched him, puffs of smoke pouring from his mouth.

Mark stumbled towards the door, yanking it open and collapsing on the seat.

"I don't know where I am going," Mark heaved, the man shifting his car to drive, "but I know I need to go forward. Towards the sirens."

Foot slammed against pedal and they were off. New York traffic was picking up, and Mark knew he would need to run again soon. He was willing. Just above the taxi drivers head, attached to the mirror, was a woman in a library reading a book. She didn't seem to notice her picture was being taken.
She looked a lot like his mother.

Mark crawled up to the passenger seat and collapsed backwards, taking a moment to rest before he had to pull himself back together again.