The Dark Side (A Darkiplier Fanfic)

- T H I R T E E N -

'C'mon, (Y/n). You can do this.' You told yourself as you took a deep breath.

The rest of history class had been uneventful. You didn't dare speak to 'Mark' or whatever he was, but he didn't try to say anything to you either. You didn't know what was going on, but something told you that this wasn't something that the public eye should to know about.

Now, you're standing in front of Mark's apartment, hands becoming clammy.

Ignoring the red flags you'd felt for the past couple of hours, you knocked on the door twice.

Soon, the door opened revealing a relaxed, and relieved 'Mark'. He smirked, as he no longer used his trademarked smile.

"What a pleasure to see you, (Y/n). Please, come in and make yourself comfortable." He offered, opening the door wider to allow you comfort. Holding the door open wider usually spoke that the host was welcoming your presence into the home.

Regardless of his manners, you couldn't help but feel afraid. This wasn't the way that Mark would act around you. He was always friendly, and loved cracking jokes.

Maybe the Mark that you knew really was gone.

Begrudgingly, you entered into his domain.

His house was very, meticulously clean. No speck of dust was seen by your eyes. His walls were covered in a dark red; crimson. It was a little unsettling combined with the dark brown floor below you.

Figuring that you weren't going to stay long, you debated on leaving your shoes on. But seeing how clean the room had become, you decided to deal with it for now. Your apartment was only a few steps away anyhow.

You took off your shoes and laid them neatly by the door.

"Thank you." Your host complimented, catching you off guard. You quickly recovered yourself by sending him a sharp scowl before heading into the living room, trailing behind him as he led.

He stopped as the two of you entered into the kitchen, right before the living room. He looked back at you, a neutral expression on his face.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asked. You responded with a huff.

"I don't trust you enough to take a beverage of your creation, thank you very much." You said, sarcasm covering your statement. He let out a small chuckle.

"Smart girl. How unfortunate that I'll be making you something anyways. After all, what kind of host would I be if I didn't make you feel at home?" He asked, walking further into the kitchen to grab a couple of things to make his chosen beverage, "So, how does chamomile tea with honey and milk sound?"

Thoroughly tempted by the drink he proposed, you answered.

"...Fine." You knew that he was going to make you drink something anyways.

Although he mentioned the fact that he wasn't Mark, you didn't necessarily believe that he was going to hurt you. And in such a weird method. If he wanted to kill you, he would've probably done it when he broke into your apartment.

Shuddering at the memory, you announced that you would wait for him in the living room. Pleased to know that you were comfortable to walk around in his place, he nodded in return.

You made your way over to your specified area before choosing a long, black couch that matched the feel of the rest of his home to sit on. You noticed that there was coffee table in front of it, so you maneuvered around it and sat down. You glided your hand over the object's fabric, pleased with the feel of it's well stitched leather.