Under Pressure - Septiplier

Chapter Fifty Seven

Jack packs up all his materials five minutes before the final bell of the day, leg jogging under the table as he stares at the clock. The situation reminds him of practically every teen movie in existence. The last day of school before summer, watching the seconds tick away on the clock, sprinting out as the final bell rings.

Jack does precisely that. His feet pound against the carpet, jogging down the stairs a bit faster than is safe, and sprinting out the doors, only to wait by the flagpole, watching the mass of students pour out moments later. Mark was wearing a red hoodie this morning, so Jack keeps a lookout for red. His eyes dart from random red clothing items, cataloging faces before moving on to the next piece of red. Eventually, Jack spots him, head down, ambling along with his earbuds in.

"Mark! Hey, Mark! Can we talk?" Jack asks as he rushes up beside him, already taking Mark by the arm and pulling him to the side, away from the crowds. Mark stumbles after him, eyes wide. He tries to pull away, but it's a half-hearted attempt that's more of a slight tug against Jack's grip than any actual resistance. Jack is happy with himself. He caught Mark on the unawares, and now he can spill his heart out to the boy without interruption from a teacher or any prying eyes and ears.

"Okay, let's start this conversation. First off, please don't ghost me again. I hate not being able to talk to you. You keep turning away every time I try to talk to you in class. I haven't seen you at lunch, and you're dodging me in the halls too. Mark, you're my closest friend, and I miss you. Please stop hiding. Even if you say something rude, or embarrassing, or something you think is absolutely friendship ending, don't hide. Because I will always try to give you grace and be kind, and still love you, because you're an amazing person. With that out of the way, let's get onto the second thing. I like you too. I really, really like you. You're handsome and sweet and gentle. You are so fucking smart, and I love having you as my partner, for schoolwork, and everything else. I like you back. I don't care about your concerns. I know you think bad about yourself, but I couldn't care less. I think you're fucking brilliant, and it's okay to be scared of talking. It's okay to be scared to look people in the eye, and it's okay to get panic attacks when you're overwhelmed. I've seen you struggling with this for years. That football game. The NASA trip. You're fighting a hard battle, and I want to be there for you. I want to help you in any way I can and be that support for you. As long as you keep fighting to get a good as you can be, I want to be there because you deserve it, and I like you so goddamn much," Jack spills out, feeling the weight lifting from his chest and the stabbing pain of guilt slowly leaving him.

He gently takes hold of Mark's forearms, stepping closer to the boy and trying to look into Mark's eyes. Mark is craning his head down and to the side, but Jack feels his heart slow back to normal at the glimpse of that warm cocoa that he drinks in every chance he gets. It warms up his gut, leaving him sated and happy for the moment, relief seeping through his bones.

Mark pulls away, taking a few stuttering steps backward. The grass crunches beneath his feet, and Jack lets his hands fall, curling them into fists. He watches Mark's gaze at it darts up to meet his own before the teenager turns and hurries away, hands shoved deep into hoodie pockets. Jack watches long after he disappears from sight before he's startled from his stupor by some boys starting to play catch with a football. His blue eyes dart around before checking his watch. With a curse, Jack sprints off to get to work on time.

"You look like shit," Amy says matter-of-factly as she makes up the drinks for the first round of after-school coffee addicts. Jack sticks out his tongue and pokes her in the side on his way into the back room, where he pulls on the hat and apron. He tugs up the sleeves of his shirt and washes up, watching the water trickle over the dips and curves of his hands with an absent gaze for longer than he wants to admit. When Jack finally comes back out of the room, Amy immediately shoves him several receipts for orders to fill. For the next hour, Jack doesn't have time to think. He works his ass off in the fight to keep up with the never-ending flow of coffee orders. Only after the lull does Amy turn and pull him into the back room.

"What's up? Why were you late?" she asks, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall. Jack sighs and looks down. Meeting those brown eyes hurts too much right now.

"I talked to Candy, and I ruined everything. I just told him everything and how much I like him, and he just left. He pulled away and hurried off, and now- just fuck."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, don't go jumping to conclusions. You can't be positive about what was going on in his head. You said it yourself that he doesn't talk much. Maybe he just needs time to process everything," Amy murmurs.

"Mark left me again!" Jack snaps.

They both freeze, the realization settling in the air in an oppressive cloud that chokes up Jack's lungs as the name rings in the air. He just spilled Mark's name to Amy, the girl with some sort of bad blood with Mark. He has divulged so much to Amy, about Mark, so much personal shit.

Amy stares at Jack for a long moment, heart twisting. She swallows and nods as the name hits her again and again. It's Mark. Mark doesn't talk anymore. Mark isn't anywhere close to happy anymore. She nods again, trying to keep it together as guilt slams into her with eighteen wheels and a blaring honk.

"Go take their orders," she says, hearing the door ring. Jack turns and hurries out, brushing past the teenager in oppressive, painful silence. Amy tilts her head back against the wall, and it's all too much for the moment. She closes her eyes and breathes in a shuddering breath, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes and slide down her cheeks. Amy left Mark, and now Mark is so much worse. She forces her eyes open and stares at the ceiling with an empty gaze. Fuck, she needs to talk to Mark.