Warning: Suicidal Thoughts
Jack P.O.V
Night was falling by the time Jack managed to hitchhike his way a few towns over. He didn't catch the name of the place, nor did he really care, but thankfully it seemed just quiet enough; not large enough to be called a town but still not small enough to be named a village and all in all quite similar to the one he'd just left. The buildings were mostly two storeys tall apart from a couple of apartment complexes that lined the edge of town and Jack had already earned himself a few strange glances from some of the locals as he walked along the pavement. It was probably the green hair that did it.
Still, he'd spotted a few local motels in the area that he could probably crash in later, but instead of going towards them immediately something else caught his eye.
There was a little children's play park not far away from where his latest kind stranger dropped him off, a few little kids racing around and scrambling up the climbing frames, practically screeching with glee. Jack didn't know why, but he found himself walking in through the little metal gate, the hinges squealing in protest as he did so and causing several of the children to glace up from their play to stare at him curiously.
He ignored them as best he could, keeping his eyes glued to the ground as he walked with his hands deep in his pockets over to a little wooden picnic bench, hidden by an overgrown clump of trees that had carpeted the ground with their amber leaves in the past few weeks. Jack's feet crunched with every step he took before he sat himself down on the damp wood, hating the feeling of the water seeping through his trousers. No one would find him here.
The green haired Irishman sighed, holding his head in his hands as he listened to the distant obnoxious laughter echoing from where the children played.
The truth was that running away didn't feel as good as Jack thought it would.
Of course in books and movies everyone seemed to preach about how good a fresh start was and how you could build yourself a completely new life and identity from scratch with nothing more than determination and a certain degree of charm. Jack knew that wasn't true; he wasn't that stupid. But he had expected to feel at least a little better about where his life was going, he wanted to feel like he had a future now; a brighter one. That obviously wasn't the case.
He felt like an absolute fucking coward.
Guilt sat in his stomach like a stone, the weight making his shoulders slump and his mind replying yesterday's events on repeat like a broken record, a constant reminder of just how much he'd fucked things up. He found himself caught up in a never ending loop of self-pity and guilt that filled his head with bitter thoughts heavy with self-loathing and regret.
What the fuck was he thinking? He pointed a fucking gun at Mark. He'd had his finger on the fucking trigger and Jesus Christ he could've hurt his friend. He could've killed him.
Huh, his friend. Could he really call Mark a friend anymore, after everything that had happened between them? I mean, their relationship was the definition of fucking complicated because all they ever seemed to do was argue with each other and make out afterwards. Does that really sound like a healthy relationship? I mean really?
Jack rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. It didn't matter anyway. Mark had to hate him after everything he'd done.
The green haired boy reached into his waistband and quickly removed the big lump of metal that was the source of his most recent fuck up. He set it on the table in front of him, just admiring the way the polished metal caught the light. Guns had never filled him with fear like they did other people however this was the first gun he'd ever touched. Hell, Jack had never even seen one in the flesh before, but he'd seen in action movies the basic mechanics of the things.
After Jack found the gun he'd pretty much just sat like this all night, looking at it, unmoving as his brain whirred, coming to conclusions and making plans.
Actually, he'd imagined himself and Mark in a town like this. He wanted them to be happy together, living in one of those two story buildings with a big dopey dog and 9 to 5 jobs that brought in the money enough to keep them afloat. He wanted to kiss the other man without the stupid niggling twinge of guilt in his stomach, and he wanted it all to last forever. Was that too much to ask for?
Well, it wasn't what Mark wanted, obviously. To him Jack was just a fucking lunatic who should be locked away, because no one would believe him no matter how much emphasis he put into his words; not Megan, not Felix, not even Mark. They just looked at him with fucking pity and talked about how he should get help, get some meds, and talk to someone. They didn't understand that he was talking to someone; he was talking to them and they weren't fucking listening.
He was right, and he knew it. Still, they refused to believe him, refused to understand. They didn't want to go along with his plan. That's why he was in this fucking situation, sitting on a picnic bench alone like a lost puppy. Mark was supposed to be here, that was the plan. Mark was supposed to be different. But, of course, he wasn't.
That's why he'd pointed this fucking thing. Because everything was going upside-down and Jack couldn't let that happen. Not again.
He couldn't get locked up in some hospital where all you got was enough drugs to knock out a baby elephant and a permanent label stuck on your back that said 'nutcase' in big bold writing. It was the kind of thing that followed you for life, something you couldn't crawl back from. Everyone would look at him differently if they found out. Mark would think him as more of a freak than he already did.
Jack had seen it, he knew what would happen if he gave in and allowed himself to 'get help'. That's exactly why he was sitting at this fucking bench hitting a dead end in his life like a fat, ugly middle aged man having a crisis.
Slowly Jack reached his right hand out and picked the gun up, turning it over in his hands and studying the surface carefully.
Maybe he was crazy, after all he'd been noticing the little things, all the little changes in himself; but of course he had. After all, when his ma got sick all that time ago, he'd become so hyper aware of the little changes in his health that it nearly drove him mad. It softened after a few months; dulled down a little so that every time he coughed he didn't half faint in panic; but it was always there, locked away in the back of his mind, noticing the little things.
Jack didn't need a doctor to tell him he was sick, he knew perfectly well that he wasn't a prime example of human health and he was working on it. He didn't need a fucking shrink to tell him what was wrong with him after an expensive, soul draining half hour conversation that went nowhere. He can fix himself thank you very much.
The green haired man toyed with the pistol, his small hands obvious when holding the rather large object. It was remarkably heavy for something that looks so light.
Jack wasn't even mildly surprised when the thought of 'This seems like a nice place to die' entered his mind.
I mean, what's the worst that could happen? After all there was literally no one on this earth who would miss him, his funeral would be emptier than his mother's and he would just be filed away as another suicide case; part of a fraction that politicians could flaunt in their speeches as evidence that their country was going down the shitter.
Honestly, to Jack that sounded better than going on like this; ruining the lives of everyone he met and on a one way road to getting locked in a fucking mental ward for the next fifty years. It would be better to quit while he was ahead.
Some said it was the coward's way out; that it was selfish and disgusting, but Jack really didn't care what people would say. He would be dead after all.
And wasn't he all those things already?
He felt his grip tighten on the gun. Why not? Why not just do it? It would be a fucking relief for everyone he knew. Just do it.
A tear made its way down his face but of course that was hardly surprising. All he ever seemed to do is fucking cry like the oversized baby he was, obviously it would be too much to ask for him to die with that last little shred of dignity. He was supposed to be that tough guy in school yet here he was sitting on a picnic bench and crying over his pitiful life. Jesus killing himself really would be the best option.
He closed his eyes trying to focus himself, his grip on the gun tight enough to turn his knuckles white with one finger poised on the trigger. C'mon, just get it over with. One, two, thr-
"Are you going to kill yourself, or what?"
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Jack yelled, the gun dropping from his hand and landing on the table with a clatter as he looked around for the source of the voice; adrenaline pumping in his veins in his shock as he shot up, nearly falling over his seat in his panic.
A tall, tanned woman was standing at the mouth of the little circle of trees, a little sky blue notebook held tightly in one hand. Surprisingly enough she was looking at Jack with a look of curiosity, not a hint of pity or fear in her dark eyes as she studied him carefully. "Well?"
Jack took in a shaky breath, looking from the woman to the gun on the table and back again. "That's none of your business." He said, cursing the tremor in his voice as he spoke.
She snorted before speaking again. "Of course it's my business if a green haired idiot, such as yourself, decides to shoot themselves in my favourite place to draw." Her accent was fast paced and foreign, reminding Jack of those beautiful beaches you see on post cards sometimes. Perhaps, Spanish or Italian?
Jack stared at her for a few seconds; a million emotions clashing on his face as she stared right back unflinchingly.
She could only be described as beautiful; smooth black hair whipping wildly in the cool autumn breeze, full lips and glinting dark eyes that seemed to stare directly into Jack's soul. Her clothes were simple, a t-shirt and jeans with a cardigan pulled over for warmth but her jeans looked to be splattered with a substance that could've been paint but Jack couldn't tell from this distance.
Jack stuttered over his words when he realised he was supposed to be saying something. "I-I suppose in that case, yeah, I was considering it."
Her expression didn't change; she only nodded her head a little before moving over to the bench with long confident strides. She honestly didn't look much older than him, perhaps by a year or two at most. When she took her place at the table, Jack found himself sitting down next to her as she opened up her notebook and pulled a pencil seemingly out of nowhere.
They were silent for a while before the woman spoke again, calmly sketching something out in her notebook like there wasn't a gun sitting on the table next to her. "So tell me, Greenie, why do you want to kill yourself so much?"
"Why do you want to know?" He asked, purposefully ignoring the nickname that he prayed wouldn't stick.
"Humour me." She said, still sketching out the outline of something Jack could make out.
"It- uh- it's a long story-"
"Then stop stalling and just tell me it, huh?" She said, impatience radiating through her voice as she leaned over her little book, pencil scratching softly against the paper.
"No thanks, I'm not into giving my dumb sob story out to strangers." The Irishman said quietly, not looking her in the eyes while he said it but instead looking down at the damp table.
"Well," The woman said calmly, going over her lines heavier than before. "In that case I hope you weren't expecting me to give you a big speech on how life is worth living, because you're giving me nothing to work with here."
Jack let a smirk tug at his lips. "That's good; I don't fancy a speech today."
When he looked up, the woman was smiling at him showing off pearly white teeth. "I can respect that." She said quietly, carefully closing up her notebook and standing up from the bench gracefully, taking a few steps towards the opening as she did so. "Tell you what; I'll give you a proposition instead. My name is Zoe Perez and you can come with me if you feel like living a little longer, Greenie. But if you do, you can't bring that gun; my parents don't like them."
Jack bit his lip, looking from the gun on the table and the pretty woman waiting patiently for his decision.
Now of course, choosing her would leave him with options; the chance of a home of his own and a job he didn't completely hate plus friends he might not point guns at. With her he had a future.
Choosing the gun would mean a quick end to his problems and nothing more.
There was no choice, not really.
He took her hand.
**
Do you know what? For the next few weeks, Jack felt happier than he'd felt in years.
Zoe had talked her parents into giving him a job as a bus boy in their little B&B near the town centre so he was kept busy during the day and then she even took her kindness a step further; inviting him to sleep in one of the attic rooms for however long it took for him to get himself back on his feet no matter how much he protested.
It reminded him that there were good people out there in the world who were filled with such selfless kindness.
It gave him hope.
He grew closer to Zoe the more he got to know her and they fell into a comfortable routine that he adored. Not only was she beautiful but she was a fucking genius with a paintbrush; going to the small local college as an art student and pumping out piece after piece of beautiful art that eventually made its way onto the walls of the B&B.
Jack had one hanging in his room actually. Zoe had made it not long after he arrived; a landscape of a tall mountain littered with trees and flowers with a bright blue river rushing down the side to add an extra burst of colour. Even though Jack had never really been big into the art scene, he really loved it. It made him think anything was possible, if something as beautiful as that could exist in the same room as him for so long and not be destroyed by his presence alone.
Still, obviously he wasn't always happy, that would be ridiculous. He missed Mark more than anything, and it hurt so damn much that he thought it was a physical burn in his heart by this point. As soppy as that sounds, it was the truth.
He had no idea at exactly what point in the few weeks they'd known each other it had happened, all he knew was that Mark had snuck his way into Jack's life without his permission, and ended up having a massive impact on the green haired man, no matter how much Jack would like to deny it.
At night he found he couldn't sleep properly thanks to the constant nightmares of Mark's fury, the replays of his Ma's funeral, the fucked up illusions his mind seemed to adore torturing him with almost every day.
He wanted nothing more than for Mark to be there, to see him getting better, to believe that he wasn't the fucked up monster Mark probably thought he was. But it didn't matter what Jack wanted. His phone was still back in Megan's apartment and Mark didn't care enough to look for him. What was the point?
This was supposed to be his chance at a fresh start and all that, or at least that's what Zoe said, and sometimes, when he looked sad, Zoe liked to give him little pep talks to keep him going through the working day. Now, of course they didn't always help, but he appreciated the effort all the same.
He'd seeing things more often recently; Jason looming at the end of his bed with a gun in his hand; his Ma's vacant blue eyes overflowing with tears in the corner of the B&B's little kitchen while Jack tried to talk to Zoe over the helpless wails; Mark's terrified face scrunched up as he braced himself for pain that would come from Jack's hands.
The green haired boy tried his best to keep it hidden though; keep it quiet. Only once or twice had Zoe actually noticed anything was wrong at all, and even then it was just something stupid that made her prick her ears up in concern. Something like, 'Oh you're being so quiet today' or 'Wow are you deaf or something?' and she had no idea it was just because his dead Ma was crying too loud for him to hear her. She would never know, because he would never tell her.
Funnily enough, she had never really asked about his past again since the day they met, even though he was sure the curiosity must be eating her alive. All she knew about him was his name and nothing else other than whatever opinions and presumptions she'd made during the time he'd spent with her and her family. It was nice. It meant he didn't have to worry about remembering, and just try to get on with life for a while.
It felt good to forget, even for just a little while.
It reminded him of what it felt like to kiss Mark when everything was going to shit around them. Fuck, he missed Mark so much.
Zoe's ma, a cheerful, rather chubby lady who spoke only in wonderfully broken English with a heavy Spanish accent; quickly noticed how little Jack ate at meals, taking note of how he'd normally only taking a few forkfuls of whatever delicious concoction they were having before unceremoniously dumping the rest of his food on Zoe's plate with a grateful grin. Therefore she made it her personal mission to fatten him up again; constantly complaining about his skinny legs and arms like they were something he should be worrying about.
Anyway, none of that mattered. Jack felt truly happy here.
That is, until today.
Today Zoe kept giving him weird looks. She didn't smile at him like she did every other morning and instead studied him like he was a puzzle she could never solve.
He let it go on until his lunch break during which he pulled her aside, concern written all over his face. "What's up with you today?" He asked, softly so Mr Perez who stood at the front desk wouldn't hear. "You're acting weird."
She bit her lip, fidgeting a little with the cuff of her cardigan which sent a painful stab of pain into Jack's heart. Mark did that too.
"Do you- um..." Zoe began, trailing off as she picked her words carefully. "You know when you talked about your sob story, yeah?"
Jack nodded, unsure as to where this was going.
"Well...did that sob story happen to include a man called Mark? Mark Fischbach?" She asked hesitantly, eyes scouring his face for a reaction which she of course got.
Jack impulsively grabbed her by the shoulders, shocking her a little at the unexpected contact but he was too shocked to care. "How the fuck do you know that name?"
She gave him a pointed look to which he quickly released her, but then she smoothly leant over the reception desk, retrieving a piece of paper. On it was a picture, a low quality picture of Jack peacefully asleep with his head resting comfortably on something that looked suspiciously like one of Mark's T-shirts, the picture carefully cropped so anything else in the picture was no longer visible.
His green hair was a mess, his face was slack with sleep and he was half curled into what Jack could only presume was Mark's prone body. All in all it was a pretty bad picture of him, but Jack decided he could complain about that at a later date.
Jack felt his mouth go dry and his heart drop to his feet. Who the fuck took this picture? Was this some sort of joke? He glanced up at Zoe, his mouth hanging open in shock before looking back down at the paper, now taking the time to actually read the damn thing, the black handwriting standing out starkly against the white paper. His hands were shaking.
MISSING
Sean (A.K.A Jack) McLoughlin, (pictured above)
Blue eyes,
Green hair,
18 years old,
Irish Accent,
Has been missing for several weeks.
If found, please return to Mark Fischbach by calling 34607 590037 and if you have any further information on the disappearance please don't hesitate to contact us using the same number.
Mark misses you, Jack. Please come back. We need to know you're safe.
Jack bit his lip, trying to keep his emotions under control the way he used to so easily. He tried to wipe his face clean of everything he was feeling, but one glance at Zoe told him he was an open book.
"Wh- where did you get this?" He half whispered hating the way his voice cracked on the words. His brain was turning to mush with all these emotions, relief mixing with confusion and guilt intertwining with joy. His heart was beating at a million times its normal rate, and Jack was amazed no one else could hear it as it pounded against his ribs. Oh God, Mark was looking for him. Mark missed him.
Zoe gave him a hesitant smile, obviously unsure if showing him this had been the right thing to do. "I- A man came in here at 5AM and Papa was the one who spoke to him. I only know what he told me." She stared at him for a few long seconds. "Jack...It's you they're looking for, isn't it?"
Jack nodded silently, completely lost for words. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?
Suddenly he felt Zoe grab his hand and press something gently into it. He looked down to find himself holding her mobile and gave her a look full of gratitude. He hoped she knew just how much she meant to him, even if he never said it properly, he hoped she knew.
"Call him." She said, a small version of her normal smiles lighting up her pretty face. "You can't keep him waiting any longer. Go home."
Jack closed his hand around the phone, letting out a sigh. "I- I ugh need some air. Back in a minute." He forced out, already making his way up the stairs to his 'bedroom', his mind whirring with too many thoughts to even realise how little sense his excuse made.
**
It took him ten minutes to get the number into the phone. Another ten to even consider pressing the call button at all.
He just stared at that phone, the number lighting up the screen, and ended up scaring himself shitless by imagining this phone call as a massive turning point in his life, like the critical point in movies where everything was going well until that one phone call. He was hyping it up so much in his head so much it looked like he would never actually press the damn button. But he did.
Eventually.
"Hello?" That was Mark! Oh god it felt so good to hear Mark's voice again. Jack felt himself start to shake hopelessly, a dry sob escaping his mouth without his permission.
"Hello? Are you alright?" Mark asked, this time his voice holding that concerned tone it had always held when Jack was in hard times. He couldn't do this, Jesus Christ speak! Why was his mouth not working all of a sudden?
"I- I" Jack began, unable to force the words out any faster. "I miss you...so fucking much." He chocked.
He heard something crash on the other side, like Mark had dropped a glass. "Jack? Oh my god, Jack!" He basically yelled into Jack's ear but Jack didn't care. He'd never been happier to hear someone speak in his entire life, and that was fucking terrifying in itself but he didn't look too far into it. It was Mark! Mark was talking to him!
"I'm so sorry, for everything." Jack finally blurted out, hating the tears of joy rolling down his cheeks like he was on one of those soaps that people obsessed over.
"What do you mean?" Mark asked, genuinely confused. "I don't care. You're safe! You're talking to me! You have no idea how happy I am."
Jack closed his eyes, basking in the happiness that swelled in his chest. "I'm mean that I've missed you so much. I never stopped missing you this whole time and I didn't even try to contact you. I think I'm falling in love with you and-"
Jack cut himself short, his mouth dropping open at his own words. He wasn't aware of this. What the fuck was it doing coming out of his mouth like he fucking meant it to happen?
He waited tensely for the response, but none came only a shocked silence that made Jack feel like throwing himself out a window.
"I-I'm so sorry, I-I'll just go." He stuttered. Oh fuck now he'd done it. Mark would really hate him now after all this shit and then making a declaration like that. What was he thinking? Then again that was probably the problem, he wasn't thinking at all.
"I think I'm falling in love with you too, Jack." Mark said quietly but firmly, barely audible in the phone's bad quality. But Jack still heard it and his heart soared at the words.
"I'm falling in love with you and I'm coming right now to pick you up from wherever the fuck you are. Give me the address. I'll see you soon." Mark promised with enough determination in his voice to with an Olympic medal.
For once in his life, Jack believed.
And the future had never looked brighter.
**
(I'm sure this is full of mistakes but will go over it later)
Heya!
I WROTE THIS AT LIKE 3AM YESTERDAY AND OMFG I KNOW IT FEELS SO DRAGGED OUT AND BORING BUT I DON'T FUCKING CARE CAUSE I WANTED TO GET A CHAPTER OUT AND THIS IS LIKE 4K WORDS OF SHIT SO TADAAAAA IM GETTING BETTER. Also I'm sorry if I offended anyone with the whole 'sucidal' thing. I'm not experienced with it and thought I'd never write about it, but that's just where this chapter went and I'm very sorry.
I hope you enjoyed it all the same :)
Song: 5AM - Amber Run
Until next time.....BYEE!!!