recovery // markiplier

three.

Mark lay in bed, staring at the wall. He felt empty.

He never thought that Jack would ever do such a thing; take his own life. He seemed like such a happy person, excited and joyful about the simplest things in life. He just seemed happy to be alive, and he seemed to have a good life. Maybe Jack felt different.

It was in that moment that Mark realized how much Jack had meant to him, when he was still living.

He loved him.

Not in a romantic way, but platonically; the way a friend loves a friend. He cared about Jack, a lot, and he didn't really realize how much Jack actually meant to him until he was gone.

Maybe Mark had a part on Jack's death?

And although Mark knew that he had nothing to do with it, that Jack was just dealing with personal struggles in his life, like possible mental illnesses he may or may not have been diagnosed with, telling no one, or possibly something entirely different, Mark wasn't sure.

Mark just knew he most likely wasn't a factor of Jack's suicide, his mind was tricking him into thinking that he caused it. His mind was telling him that it was his fault, however, and Mark believed.

After a short while of being trapped in his own negative thoughts, there was a knock at his door.

Mark didn't even realize that he'd been crying. He was so lost in thought.

"What?" Mark called weakly.

"It's Ryan," Ryan said through the door, "Can I come in?"

"I don't care," Mark responded, to which Ryan answered by opening the door. He closed it behind him once he was in the room.

He went over to Mark and sat on the edge of the bed close to him. He looked at him sympathetically.

"We're really worried about you, Mark," Ryan said, "I think you should see a councilor; get a therapist. You need help."

"I'm okay," Mark said, "I'll be okay."

"I want to believe you, Mark. But what if you aren't okay?" Ryan said, "We can't lose you, too."

Then he stood and left the room, leaving Mark alone once again with his thoughts.

Mark completely and utterly hated himself.

{*****}

Mark got up a couple hours later. He put on his glasses and went down stairs.

"Hey, Mark," It was Wade.

"Why are you here?" Mark asked. He wasn't annoyed, he just wanted to be alone.

"I just wanted to check up on you," He said, "See how you're doing?"

"Fine," Mark sighed.

"No you're not," Wade said, "Dude, you're one of my best friends and I know when you're lying."

"I'm fine, Wade."

Then Wade enveloped Mark in a hug. That was when Mark broke down.

"I just miss him so much," Mark cried, "Already. It's only been a week, and I already miss him so much."

"I know," Wade said, "I do, too."

"Why did he have to leave?" Mark said, pulling away from the hug, sitting on the stairs. He covered his face to hide his tears.

"I don't know," Wade said, sitting next to Mark.

"Thanks for coming to see me, Wade," Mark said, "I know it might not always seem like I care about you, but I really do. You're one of my best friends and I'm glad to have you as a friend."

"I care about you, too, Mark," Wade said, "And I'll be here for you until I can't be anymore."

"Thank you," Mark said.

"Bob said he'd be here soon," Wade said.

"He doesn't have to come over."

"He's going to," Wade said, just as there was a knock at the door.

"I don't want anyone else to see me like this," Mark said, wanting to run and hide for days, but he stayed seated on the stairs.

Matt or Ryan must have let Bob in, because Bob was there by Mark's side a few seconds later. Matt and Ryan followed Bob and were by Mark.

"Go away," Mark said, "All of you."

"We're staying right here, Mark," Ryan said.

"I'm grieving," Mark said, "Let me grieve."

Then he stood up, wiped his face, then walked back up the stairs to his room. No one followed him there.

{*****}

Mark lie awake in darkness. He lay staring blankly at the wall, tears still clouding his vision. He heard a familiar voice.

"Mark," It sounded like the voice belonged to Jack.

Mark shot up in his bed, staring in front of him, though tears were clouding his vision. No one was there. Mark sighed as more tears fell, "I'm really losing it," He said to himself.

"Mark, you need to get out of bed," Said the voice again. Maybe it was coming from outside of his door? Was Jack okay?

No. That'd be impossible. Jack couldn't possibly be okay.

Mark stood up nonetheless, and walked to his door. He opened it and it was not Jack, making Mark even more upset, though Mark knew it would be Jack, he just hoped it would be. It was, however, Matt.

"What do you want?" Mark said rather rudely, as he was disappointed that it wasn't Jack, even though he knew it would've been impossible for it to be Jack unless he were dreaming, or just spiraling into insanity.

"Everybody wanted to see you," He said slowly, "We're worried about you Mark."

"Why are you worried about me?" Mark asked, "I'm nothing important. I don't matter. Worry about yourselves, goddammit. I'm fucking worthless."

Mark then slammed his bedroom door in Matt's face.

Matt knocked again, louder this time, calling Mark's name a few times, then suddenly stopped. Mark heard whispering, not distinctly hearing the words, then shuffling feet walking away.

He sighed and hit his fist against the wall, breaking off into more sobs.

Once he had calmed down a bit more, he wiped his eyes. He hated how upset he was over this. It hurt to mourn. It hurt so much. It tore Mark up inside and he hated the way it made him feel.

Jack was always there for Mark when he needed him. He was always there to make him laugh, and to make him feel better in times of sadness. The whole reason Jack moved in with Mark, Matt and Ryan was to start a new life. There were more opportunities for Jack in L.A., and Jack had just gone through a bad breakup. Jack moved in with Mark, Matt and Ryan to be happier.

Maybe it wasn't good enough, Mark thought, Maybe I wasn't good enough to make him feel happy enough to stay here.

Mark couldn't help but blame himself.

/a/n first author's note of the story. sorry for the extreme sadness of it all :'c

but yeah, i totally suck. 

i love you guys<3

-emily