Don't Tell Jack... (Mark X Anti)

Part 16

Mark's POV
I felt the door reverberate against my palms. I'd slammed it louder than I should have.

Way to act natural, Fischbach.

I'd panicked way too much. The exhilaration of the night before still lingered, making me a little extra jumpy. By which I meant totally fucking wired.

My lip stung. Now that I didn't have Jack's body as a distraction, my focus amplified the pain. Goddamnit. I should have gotten the numbing gel from Jack. I couldn't though, now that I had left in such a hurry. Did I honesty think he'd be suspicious of my perfectly logical excuse that I bit my own lip and somehow figure out that I'd actually gotten kinky with some odd alter ego of himself?

I sighed at my own stupidity and got to work running cold water. I wet some toilet paper, pressing the wad to my lip. I hissed at the unexpected sting. Water trickled down my chin, wetting my shirt collar. I reached under the vanity and pulled out a tub of Vaseline, smearing my lip with the goop. It turned pink, but it felt a little better.

I suddenly noticed something odd about my wound. I leaned closer into the mirror, examining the small cuts. Each mark was rimmed with a faint green tinge. I brought my tongue to it, feeling nothing odd or frightening except for the color. And an odd, almost static aura that surrounded the bite. Like licking a battery. What was happening to it? It wasn't like Jack was diseased or anything.

The reason it was there could wait. I needed to cover it up and treat it. I washed out the wound, the bright green, almost septic, tinge never left as I washed. Weird. I applied some Neosporin to the outer edge of the wound, making an effort not to get any in my mouth.

The weirdest part about it all, though, was that I didn't mind. I wasn't particularly worried. I knew logically that I should have been, but I knew the other Jack would come back to explain. The thought of him coming back drowned out any worries I had. And as I thought about how amazing he felt, my mind left my lip altogether.

I thought about the night before. He'd been just as amazing as i'd imagined. More. I could still feel his hands on my back and his lips on mine. He knew everything i liked even before i did. He knew what to give me, how to give it.

 He wasn't Jack. I wasn't stupid. i knew he wasn't Jack. But he looked like Jack. He felt like Jack. And he was the closest to Jack i would ever get. He was the Jack i would get. And he was perfect in every way Jack was perfect and then some.

 was when I realized... He had given no guarantee that he'd be back at all. He'd left the night before with no explanation or plan. The thought terrified me. I needed him again. He'd hooked me. The way he moved, the way he felt, the confidence that flowed from his every word. I needed my hands on him again, I needed his hands on me. I craved his lips on mine. It was painful how much I needed his touch again.

"Mark?"

Speak of the Devil. His voice was muffled through my door. The deja vu crashed over me with ferocity as i recalled the night before. His trembling voice. Mark?

Jack was calling me. I didn't want to go out yet though. I had a fear that if I saw his face then, it would destroy me. I'd have to touch him, whether he was the right Jack or not. I couldn't let that happen.

"Busy!"

"Need any help?"

"No, I've got it!"

There was a pause. I knew he was still outside my door. There had been no footsteps to signify otherwise. A few more seconds went by. I could swear i heard him mumbling to himself. I tried to make it out.

"Ye told me he'd want my help!"

Pause.

"I didn't... I was confused too..."