Septiplier One-Shots

Comatose

This perfect chapter is written by author144!
I'm sooooooo sorry for the late update, and I'm also sorry that I'm posting two of her chapters in a row and getting out of order :( A combination of writer's block and laziness has stopped me from writing, so I need to publish this so you guys will have a wonderful chapter to read.

"Jack?" the name struck him with familiarity. "Jack?!" the voice sounded desperate, but all the response that was heard was the shutting of doors. Ambulance doors to be exact.
It was his name.
Jack briefly remembered that split second of pain before hitting his head rather roughly and his body slamming into the ground, crumpling into a heap of a person.
Mark. This name also had a familiar ring to it, one that brought joy to Jack when he thought of it. Mark had fallen. These were the only words that he could form in his mind, they were burned there as if a mission, or a solid statement. A flash of a memory crossed his mind again, and he remembered looking over from his group of friends standing in a parking lot to where Mark had tripped in the middle of a busy street trying to walk over to them. Jack had sprinted, pulling the man to his feet, only to push him back down and away at the sight of an oncoming car. A single flash of the headlights was all Jack could recall until now.
Even now, he struggled to move. Mark's presence was no longer felt, and it made him panic. He attempted to move his arms, his torso. His eyelids refused to flutter open, and Jack only grew angry with his frustration and confusion to the situation. How could he be so aware, but also so dead? This was impossible! Where was Mark? Jack wanted Mark; no, Jack needed Mark. Needed him by his side to comfort him, to tell him it was okay. Where was he when he wanted a hand to hold?
Every bump in the road they crossed, Jack felt it. When they rushed him indoors a hospital on a gurney, he felt the weightlessness of being withheld above the ground. He felt them rush him into an operation room, and despite the pain of having bones moved back into place and stitches embedded into his skin, he could not open his mouth to shout in pain. He couldn't eat on his own, he couldn't talk, he couldn't cry for Mark in the darkness he was surrounded in. Where was Mark? Had he been abandoned?
After several days of sitting in the hospital, Jack felt lost. Was Mark just going to leave him there? He needed someone here, preferably the said man. Where was he? Jack wanted to move, to open his eyes, get up, find the man himself. But no matter how badly his want was, no matter how many times his inner voice shouted commands to move, Jack was frozen in place.
"Mark." Jack wished the words could have come from his mouth, but they came from another foreign person, one he certainly didn't expect to be here. It was Aaron, or known on the internet as Yamimash. Bob and Wade were muttering behind him, and Jack felt delight. Had they come to see him? "We all care about Jack, and we've all bought him our flowers and cards. But sitting for a week straight in his room cannot be benefiting your health."
Mark never responded, but Jack wanted to simply sing for the heavens. Mark had been here the entire time? He had been watching over Jack from day one, sitting there. Just waiting to see if he would wake up and move. Jack felt a lot less alone, and wished he could reach his hand out to the man.
"Aaron, maybe its best if we don't-." Bob began, but Wade interrupted the man.
"Mark, they're going to cut him off soon. They don't think he'll make it out. You need to say your goodbyes." Jack could hear the man shuffling out of the room after his words, and the chair Mark was presumably sitting in at Jack's side flew against the wall with a loud crack!
"What do you mean they're going to cut him off?" Mark snarled, his voice taut with anger. "They can't do that without my consent!"
"Mark, he's been completely unresponsive. They don't know if he's even truly alive in there anymore." Bob's voice sounded sad, and as if he'd rather be doing anything but delivering this news right now.
"Bob, I love him." Mark's voice was quiet, and Jack wanted to say he stiffened at the words, or screamed with joy, danced with excitement. Yet he could only smile inwardly at this. "Jack has grown on me, more than anyone has before. I'm not letting him go, not this time. He saved my life, and somehow I'm going to return the goddamned favor." Jack heard the other two men leave, and Mark sat once more, leaving the pair alone. "What am I going to do, Jack? How am I supposed to help you?" Jack wanted to cry, he wanted to lean over and hug the man.
"Please don't let me go just yet." Jack thought, wanting to whisper the words, desperately. "Please hang on just a bit longer."

....

Mark's head snapped up as a pair of nurses came into the room only a couple of days after Bob and the others had arrived with grave news. They had come with flowers, and Wade with a balloon, and they told Mark that they were going to let Jack go.
Mark couldn't forget the day that all this had occurred. He had fallen in the road, rolling his ankle trying to get to the others in a hurry. Well, maybe just Jack overall, but Bob and Wade were over there also. He had shouted in surprise, catching Jack's attention, and with lightning speed that Irishman was at his side. He offered him a hand, pulling Mark to his feet, only to shove him back to the ground and off to the side. Mark had felt anger for a split second on why he'd been shoved, and instantly regretted it once he heard the sound of a car flash by his ear. The fumbling sound of a person against metal, and Mark hadn't even wanted to look. His tear filled eyes did their best to blur what he wanted to simply be a nightmare.
Now, he stood in the way of the pair of nurses. His tired eyes were narrowed, his dark hair everywhere and out of place. He gritted his teeth, and stood with his arms at his sides, hands clenched into fists.
"You're not taking him from me. Not yet." Mark whispered fiercely, and the nurses nodded to one another. One ran out the door to get security, and Mark stood by Jack. He grabbed the Irishman's hand, and brought it to his lips as a muscular man barged his way into the room, a small nurse behind him.
"Sir~." one of them began.
"SHUT UP, NURSE!" Mark shouted, crouching beside Jack's bed and holding his hand. The security guard barged towards him, and the shuffling of the nurses to the bedside all became too apparent to Mark. He wasn't letting go of Jack yet. Then, all went completely silent.
Jack's heart monitor was speeding up.
Everyone in the room had stopped, and Mark looked down at the Irishman, not noticing the tears that had pooled in his eyes, and found that Jack was also crying. His face was twisted with grief, and tears pooled out of his eyes. His lips twitched as if trying to say something, and Mark pulled the chair closer to the bed, sitting and keeping a firm hold on Jack's hand. One of the nurses ushered the security guard out, and the other went to call a doctor into the room.
"Don't leave his side, you're helping him," she told him gently, and then whisked out of the room.
"Shut up, nurse." Mark said just as softly, staring at Jack's face. "I know what I'm doing." He squeezed Jack's hand ever so lightly, bringing it to his lips one more time.
Brown eyes met bright blue.