Septiplier/Short Stories/One-Shots

Brother

Prepare to have your heart ripped apart :) ;D

"Mark dancing in his room, feeling like he's holding Jack close as Timmy walks in, the little boy looking at his broken father and tugging at his pajama pants. "Daddy, Sammy is up...please, you need to take care of my brother..." The boy says softly as the feeling of Jack fades and reality overtakes him.

Pictures of him and Jack are in newspaper blankets, all tucked in a cardboard box. Mark can't look at him. One has the obituary, Sean being one of the first names on the list. It's right on top, wrapping a wedding picture. It makes Mark break down as baby Sam continues to wail at the top of his little lungs, Tim frowning. He grabs the phone and calls for someone. The next day, Tim and Sam are taken from Mark, leaving the broken man with nothing and no one."

 -http://septicanons.tumblr.com/post/125303368250/mark-dancing-in-his-room-feeling-like-hes

I won't be using the last sentence, just so you know. :) 

Tim ran down the hall heading to where he knew the phone was. He dialed the number Uncle Tom had taught him.

"Hello?"

"Hey Uncle Tom!" Tim said, cheerfully despite the circumstances.

"What's going on?" he asked groggily, eyes travelling to the clock across the room. The red numbers read 1:14, that being A.M.

"Sammy won't stop crying and Daddy isn't doing anything about it," Tim replied.

"Okay, I'll...I'll be right over," Tom said, tiredness leaving his tone, worry replacing it. He had thought Mark was starting to improve, though it was just slightly. It was killing him to see Mark like this. It was much worse than last time. He ran out to his car, not wanting to waste a second.

Tim made his way to the front of their home, opening the front door and sitting on the front door-step, despite the night chill. The wailing of his brother was getting rather annoying, and the fact that his father wouldn't care for him was just as annoying, if not more. He put his head in his little hands. He just couldn't grasp why his father was like this, or why his other father was put underneath the ground. He had been much better about caring for them before. Tim couldn't understand the crying from his father either. He couldn't grasp any of it.

Eventually headlights shone on the boy, interrupting his childish wonder and his Uncle stepped out of the vehicle. Tim ran over to hug him, wrapping himself around his leg. Tom just forced a smile, picking up the boy and taking them both inside. "Mark?" he called out. There was no response, but he could hear the wailing child. Tim led them to Sam's nursery, which doubled as the boys' bedroom. Tom decided to quiet the child before dealing with Mark. He changed the baby's diaper, and he was still crying. "Has he been fed recently, or is he hungry?" Tim just shrugged, which worried Tom. He rushed to the kitchen and began to heat up a bottle of milk. In looking for the formula he had discovered that there wasn't much food here at all, everything was running low. Mark needs to pull himself together, he thought, leaving the formula and heading to where he knew Mark would be.

He entered the room, seeing his brother on the floor, sobbing. "Mark," he said softly, touching Mark's shoulder. Mark didn't acknowledge him. "Mark," he repeated. Brown eyes opened, meeting Tom's. "Mark, we need to talk," he said.

"I don't want to talk," Mark hissed through sobs.

"You need help," Tom said, "You're fragile right now. You can't function."

"I function just fine," Mark mumbled.

"No, no you don't. And it's endangering your children. I don't know how much I myself can do, I just want you to know you're not alone in this pain. He was wonderful, and I know I didn't know him in the same way you did, but you need to move on. I know it's hard, you've been through a lot-"

"I can't just get over him Tom! He's my soulmate!" Mark exclaimed. "I love him."

"Mark, he's gone. And none of us can change that," Tom said. Mark's eyes left Tom, losing their focus.

"He's not gone," Mark whispered, "He'll come back to me. Isn't that right?"

Tom cringed. Mark was much worse than he'd thought. He's still in denial. "Look, I'm gonna see if our Mom can help take care of the kids. You need to go to therapy."

"No I don't," Mark said, eyes still following something only he could see.

"You have to. Mark, I'm afraid for your mental health," Tom said, "Please look at me." Mark's eyes travelled back to his brother. "It's the only way you'll get better."

Mark smiled, a smile that didn't look sane at all and scared Tom. "I'm fine. Sean is going to come home and we're going to all be a happy family again."

"Mark, you saw him get buried! He's gone! He is not coming back! He is dead!" Tom snapped. Mark appeared as though he'd been slapped. Tom felt a little bad for saying that. He lowered his voice, "Mark, I'm always going to be here for you. So is Mom. So come home with us. We'll all go back to Ohio, and you can start the healing process."

"Tom, this is my home," Mark whispered, looking around the apartment, tearing up as he laid eyes on the picture that had caused this breakdown in the first place.

"It was. But not anymore. It's not healthy for you to be here. We need to pack up your things, and then you can get some rest, okay?" Tom said. Mark just nodded, eyes going back to the illusion he was seeing.

Tom headed downstairs where the formula had finished. He shook it a bit, and let it cool, not wanting to risk burning Sam's little tongue. Then he made his way to the nursery. He picked up the tiny baby. The baby's eyes were as blue as Jack's had been. He rocked him slowly, feeding him the formula. The baby relaxed finally, falling asleep almost immediately after Tom was done. Tim was still awake, staring out the small window. "Hey Tim," Tom whispered, "Let's play a game. First we need to find the suitcases."

"Oh! I know where those are at!" Tim said excitedly, jumping off his bed and running out of his room. Tom followed the small child. He opened a closet, and sure enough two large suit-cases and a smaller, kid sized one sat.

"Perfect," Tom said, "Now you go and pack up 2 of your favorite outfits and your favorite stuffed animal."

"Okay!" Tim exclaimed, racing back down the hall, bag in tow. Tom took the other two suitcases to Mark's room. He turned on a light.

"Mark?" he said softly. Sure enough Mark wasn't asleep, just clutching a photo and sobbing. "Mark, I need you to pack your suit-case, okay?" Mark put the photo down.

"Oh...Okay," he said.

"I'm going to go pack up Sammie's stuff," Tom said.

"Okay," Mark said.

Tom packed up all the baby supplies Mark had, which wasn't a lot, and headed back to Mark's room. Mark hadn't packed anything, and was just clutching a t-shirt. Tom tried not to sigh as he went to help his brother pack. "Will I get to come back?" Mark asked quietly.

"In theory. I'm gonna see if we can get one of your YouTube friends to help care for the place," Tom said, folding up some clothes and putting them into the suitcase. He got out his phone, deciding to multi-task. He described the plan to their mother, who of course was okay with helping. He decided to wait and call Mark's friend in the morning, because calling this late would be a bad idea. But this can work, Mark's going to get better this way.