"So, Vender-Boy. I never got your name."
Jack reached the boy the bag again, allowing him to get another chip. They'd been talking for another ten minutes, sharing the bag of Doritos with each other.
"It's Jack. Jack McLoughlin."
He placed a triangular shaped chip in his mouth, "and your's?"
"Mark. Mark Fischbach."
"That's a nice name, Mark."
Mark grinned and cleaned the cheese-like power sticking to his fingers with his tongue. "Thanks. Your's is nice too, Jack... I love how you pronounce mine with an 'e' instead of an 'a.'" Mark then hummed and closed his eyes, head propped on the fence they sat against.
"Ya know, you're the first person that's really been this kind to me."
Jack turned to Mark with wide eyes. Why? He was so lovely!
"You've never had friends?"
"Nope. Parents either. They got into an accident when I was six and I was left with my grandparents. I ran away when I turned eighteen. Which was six months ago. No one ever taught me right or wrong, explaining why I just don't give a flying fuck about anything. I'm pretty rebellious–so my grandma said."
Jack blinked. "Oh... Wow."
"Yeah. Friends never were my thing. Everyone found reason to hate me and only saw my flaws. So I said piss on that and became a slight bully. Only picked on anyone who nagged at me though. I couldn't hurt people..." Mark shrugged.
Jack pulled another chip from the bag, confidently waving it around. "Well, I'm your friend now, bitch."