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You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy.
The happiness that rained from Jack as constantly and consistently as it did was brought on by only one person, and that person was Mark Fischbach. The man was an array of warmth and light that lit up Jack’s usually dim world. Jack bathed in the light that Mark gave him, and Mark was more than happy to give it to him. The American loved him after all, and hated to see the Irishman sad. Everyone did, and most tried to help cheer him up, but the only that could was Mark.
Jack smiled as the memory, and leaned his head back against the pillow. His hair was matted against his forehead, and he could hear his parents talking to him, but he ignored them. He was too happy thinking about Mark.
Hardly anyone knew this about him, but he’s had a long battle with depression, and while doing his job as a YouTuber had made it easier, it didn’t completely eradicate it.
But Mark did. Mark and his constant joy, and jokes, and . . . well, everything that was Mark, basically. But there was always a cloud in the back of his mind, reminding him that it could be too good to be true, but he always reminded himself that Mark loved him and that nothing would happen like he feared.
When skies are grey. You never know, dear, how much I love you.
Jack cried out as he was hit on the back of the head, and he stumbled, before collapsing on the ground of their apartment. His vision started to blur, and he called out, “Mark . . .” before he passed out.
He woke up in an unfamiliar room, and quickly looked around as he sat up. He was on edge, he had no idea where the fuck he was, and there was no sign of his boyfriend. The tension rolled out of his shoulders when he noticed Mark sitting in the corner by the door, but the tension came back quickly when he noticed how creepily Mark was staring at him, and he didn’t seem excited by the fact he was awake.
“You’re awake,” Mark said, his voice deeper than usual, and without any emotion in it.
Jack was surprised, and he nodded as he slowly crept towards the wall behind him. Mark stood up, and moved towards the bed silently.
He ran his tongue over his top lip, and a smile spread across his face. “What’s wrong, Jacky?”
“I-I should be a-asking you that, Mark,” he tried to joke, but it got caught in his throat.
Mark laughed, and Jack hated it. It wasn’t Mark’s laugh, not at all. It had nothing behind it, no humor or even just plain fuckin’ amusement. “I guess you could,” he said as he drew a chair up next to the bed. He flipped it, and sat on the chair with the back in front of him. “But you won’t.” He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, and rested his elbow on the back of the chair. He grinned. “Come on, Jacky, don’t you want to know?”
“I-I’m not sure if I do.”
Mark leaned forward, a small grin on his lips. “Of course you want to know, don’t you?” he waited for a response, and when Jack didn’t give him one, he shook his head. “You’re no fun, not like Bob or Wade. I should just kill you now, and get it over with.”
“K-kill me?” Jack stuttered, and he found it hard to breath.
“What the hell did you think I was gonna do with you?” Mark snapped. “Of course I’m gonna kill you! God, what the hell are you? Daft?” He stood up abruptly, and walked over to the far wall to a table he hadn’t noticed before. Jack bit down onto his lip, and when Mark turned around with a knife in his hand, he bit down so hard his teeth ripped through his lip.
“Well? Aren’t you gonna fight back?”
Tears sprang to Jack’s eyes, and he sobbed as he shook his head. Mark got pissed. “Why the fuck not?”
“I love you. I . . . I can’t do that. Not to you, and you know that,” he said between sobs. Mark curled his lip.
“I do know that. I just hoped it wasn’t going to be true.” Mark then lunged at him, and that’s when Jack’s memory went all fuzzy.
Apparently—according to his parents—someone had noticed his—ex?—boyfriend dragging his unconscious body out of the apartment, and an undercover police officer followed him all the way to the warehouse. They found them in an underground room—Mark had already stabbed him twenty-six times, and he was unconscious. They arrested him, and Jack was sent to the hospital.
“You had flat lined so many times,” his mother told him, “We thought you weren’t going to make it.” But Jack didn’t care, he just wanted to see Mark, which he knew he wasn’t going to be able too any time soon. His kidnapper had been evaluated by some psychologists, and they had deemed him mentally insane; he was currently locked up in a psych ward somewhere in the state.
His body ached for the half-Korean, and he knew that the only way he was going to see him was if he escaped the hospital, which he knew he couldn’t. Even though his body was telling him that Mark couldn’t be sane, he wanted to see for himself.
So, one night, he planned his escape. Once visiting hours were over, he dressed in some of the civilian clothing his parents brought, and made a makeshift decoy with his old clothes and some pillows, before he somehow managed to walk out of the hospital.
He got on a bus after grabbing a newspaper, and when he sat down he read it to see if there was anything about where Mark was being held. He soon found an article about the incident . . .
MURDERER FOUND IN MIDST OF MURDER-SUICIDE ACT
Twenty-five year old Mark Fischbach was found at Winchester Warehouse Thursday night, stabbing his boyfriend to death with a plan to kill himself afterwards. Authorities managed to disarm the YouTube sensation, and get his boyfriend medical attention. Fischbach reportedly admitted to being the killer of both Bob Muyskerm and Wade Barnes—
Jack flinched, and scanned the article for the name of the ward. He memorized it, and then asked the bus driver for directions when they came to a stop. The driver grunted out a few directions, and he was on his way.
After stumbling around for a few hours, he finally found it. The building was small, and not quite as menacing as he imagined. It wasn’t as high tech as he imagined, but the paper did state he was only being held here until they could find a more high-security ward to hold him.
Jack walked inside, and right passed the front desk. The woman was busy doing something on the computer, and no one in the hallways tried to stop him. He wandered around for hours, until he came across the “High Security Area”, which wasn’t as highly secured as they proclaimed, considering he walked right through the revolving doors.
There was only one cell lit up, and he knew who the current occupant was . . .
“Hello, Jacky.”
Please don’t take my sunshine away.