Superhero Secret - Septiplier

[5] Mind Games

The pounding in Jack 's head was louder than any alarm clock could muster. Currently he was in class, staring down at the blue floof below him. He was tapping his pencil against the table, the noise making one pound in his head each time the pencil made contact with the wood. Jack couldn't handle it. His hands slammed on the surface standing up as quickly as his hands hit the table. Mark jumped at the sudden bang, not being the only one. Many of the students around him were startled, spinning their heads in Jack's direction. The professor turned around from the chalk board, giving him 'the eye.'

"Is there a disruption I should be worried about, Mr. Mcloughlin?"

"No, sir," A short pause. "May I be excused?" His professor nodded, his head turning toward the door.

Jack jogged down the staircase of the classroom, rushing to the door. He could feel Mark's eyes burning holes into his back as he walked, no stormed, outside the room. The silence of the hall relaxed him, his mind getting a break of what felt like a hammer smashing into each side of his head. The huge gash wasn't helping, making his head ache. It was already difficult enough to hide it from Mark, but so far succeeding.

Yet, there was something that the man just couldn't shake. A feeling that wouldn't leave him alone. For the last two days he was achieving at hiding the gash. Sleeping with his head towards the wall, styling his hair down over the bandaid, keeping his hat down, even not engaging in conversations with Mark.

And still, he felt like he wasn't winning, like he was destined to lose. That the whole time hiding from Mark was just a waste of energy.

All this thinking had resulted him with his hands clamped to the sides of a bathroom sink. Then, that's when the craziness hit him.

"Jack," they muttered, the voice not clear.

"Who-who's there?" He spun around to see the coldness of a brick wall and a small hall where the entrance of the bathroom door was.

"Funny how it is right? Someone talking in your head. Seems a little supernatural, to say. Maybe someone with," the voice paused. "Power?"

Now the voice didn't even have to try. The thick, Swedish accent. The image of a blue mask covering their face, excluding their eyes. A golden mess of hair resting a top the masterminds head. Their outfit, a skin-tight suit, with a blue logo of a fist on his chest.

Broverse.

-

Mark's eyes shot around the room nervously. A million questions were running through his head.

"Um, Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Fischbach?" He questioned with an exasperating sigh.

"May I..." Mark nodded his head toward the door, signalling he wanted to go get Jack.

The older man sighed, turning his back to the chalk board. "Fine," he grumbled. Mark shot out of his seat like a bullet, flying down the staircase and whipping the door open. He came to the realization that he didn't even know where to look for Jack.

Our dorm? No, he wouldn't go that far. Or would he? I doubt it. What about...the bathroom! That's where mostly girls go, but Jack is not a girl.

Mark, playing a mind game of his own, while Jack was playing one across the board.

-

"How the living fuck are you talking to me?" Jack said to himself, well technically. The conversation with Broverse was in his head.

"Haven't you read anything about superpowers. Maybe opened a comic book?" Broverse retorted.

"I've read a few comic books, thank you very much," His eyes wandered to the door, making sure no one walked in and seeing a green-haired kid talking to himself.

"It's called telepathy, my friend. A new found power I didn't even know I had! But, it's not enough. I need your speed," a deep intake of breath."And whatever other power you've been hiding from me."

No! Jack thought. There's no way he would know about-

His thoughts were cut off when a blue haired boy burst into the bathroom, panting.

"Mark? What the fuck?"

He was taking heavy breathes, leaning himself against the white bricks.

"Fuck dude, I've been looking all over the campus for you!"

"Well, you found me! You're suppose to be in class!" Jack knew he had to choose his words carefully, not knowing if Broverse could still hear anything.

"We're suppose to be in class," Mark corrected, grabbing onto Jack's arm. To Mark's surprise, Jack recoiled, taking a step back.

"Not-not yet," His eyes begged for Mark to wait, just give him a moment. He silently granted Jack's wish.

"Jack?" Mark said quietly as ever. His voice was small, as if he was scared of Jack's actions.

"Yeah, bud?"

"What did you do?" Jack raised a brow, confused by his question. Mark continued. "What did you do to your forehead?"

Shit. He had completely forgotten about that, wishing he could shrivel up and die in a corner.

"It's bleeding," Mark stated, as if it was the obvious. "And there's a lot of blood." His hand reached out to swipe his index finger across, showing Jack the heavy amount of blood that was there.

A feeling of lightheadedness hit him, as if every thought he ever had just flew out his ears. Jack's hand reached out and clung onto Mark's arm, stabely himself.

"'M dizzy," he said with a slurred voice.

Still, Mark was completely unphased by the whole situation. He reached over to the paper towel dispenser, ripping some from the roll. Folding it into a sloppy rectangle, he pressed the rough material to Jack's gash. The blood soaked up into the towel in a matter of seconds, drowsiness slowly taking over. The last thing Jack felt was strong arms swooping the boy off his feet and large, fast steps being taken.