Damaged (Markiplier X Reader)

Roommates?

Dissociative Identity Disorder- a disorder characterized by the presence of two or more distinct personality states. Also known as D.I.D or multiple personality disorder, it is a rare disorder with fewer than 200,000 US cases per year.

Sounds a bit far-fetched, doesn't it?

The idea that the human body can have more than one vessel occupying it. More than one thought process and even different bodily needs for each personality.

It sounds like something that only exists in movies, movies of fiction no less. Not many people like to acknowledge the idea of this disorder and many don't believe it actually exists...

I use to be one of those people, but that was before I met Mark.

Well, technically I had known Mark my entire life; we grew up in the same neighborhood. But we never really spoke to one another. He was a year older than me and he had different groups of friends all through our school years.

Our parents, however, were very close friends. I remember on Sunday evenings, Mr. and Mrs. Fischbach would come over for dinner and game night. Of course, they would bring Mark and his brother Tom, but I would make it a point not to socialize with either of them. I always made sure to bury my nose in a book or my notebook.

After eighteen years and endless hours of game nights with the Fischbach family, I still had barely said two words to Mark. It wasn't until years later I would find out our parents had made a bet amongst each other that Mark and I would end up together. For the longest time, it seemed as though someone was going to lose their money...

That was until college rolled around.

I was majorly stressed with all the aspects of college: tuition, books, finding a job, transportation, you name it. But my #1 stressor was definitely finding an apartment.

Plans had fallen through with several friends so I was pretty much on my own to find a place to live. I was not too fond of the idea of living with a complete stranger.

"Well, sweetie, why don't you ask Mark?"

My mother suggested one morning after we had eaten breakfast after one of my daily stress rants, just days before I went off to college.

I gave her a confused look, asking her to explain what she meant. She continued on.

"I was talking to his mom the other day and she said that he was having trouble finding a roommate. He is going to the same university, it's worth a shot to ask."

"But Mom, I don't know Mark."

"Oh pish posh," she waved her hand dismissively, "you two grew up together."

"Mom, I know Mark, but I don't KNOW Mark, you know?"

She gave me a blank stare, her eyes held traces of annoyance and confusion.

"No, (Y/n), I'm afraid I don't know."

I let out a groan, running my fingers through my (h/l) (h/c) hair and pulling it at the roots.

"Mom," I started again, steadying my voice, "I have barely said two words to Mark, I have no interest in taking our relationship to the next level by moving in together."

My mom rolled her eyes, raising her coffee mug to her lips and taking a sip before continuing.

"Sweetheart, you are heading off to college in two weeks, you may not be able to find another apartment by then. This may be your best option, and you DO know him; you wouldn't be living with a complete stranger."

"Mom, I haven't even seen the guy in years."

"Well, honey, it's your choice, but you should at least talk to him. You don't have much to lose."