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Mark brings two plates of pasta. He'd kept an eye on it the whole time, so nobody would put something inside and kill either of them. When he was cooking it, Jean had walked by offering to help, but Mark had felt too paranoid to let him. Hopefully he wouldn't regret saying no...
"Here." He pushes one plate towards Jett, and Mark digs in.
It's...alright. It's edible. It didn't burn completely. The pasta was mushy, and the sauce was...an acquired taste. Mark suppresses a cough and reminds himself not to add so much rosemary next time. He looks up at Jett and sees the plate of pasta untouched.
Mark frowns. "...You're not hungry?"
"N-No, broskii! I'm...errr..." Jett scratched the back of his helmet. "You're right! I'm not hungry, haha..."
But he hadn't eaten at all today. And it was noon. "It won't kill you." Mark says. "Just eat it."
Jett reaches for his fork, then pauses. One hand reluctantly reached to his helmet, then quickly back to his side.
"Why don't you just take it off?" Mark asks, confused. "Nobody's around."
"I don't need a reason. It's just for privacy, bro!"
He acts like there's nothing wrong, but Mark can see he's tenser than usual. Folding his arms, curling up into himself ever so slightly. Mark decides it's better not to push it.
"...Whatever." The food's mush, anyway. Maybe Jett's better off not eating it.
Jett is weirdly quiet, for once not coming up with an instant response, so Mark adds: "It doesn't really matter if you're ugly, anyway."
"Ugly? Me? Come on, bro, don't do me like that! I'm a total looker under this mask!"
"I'm just saying, it's not a big deal..."
It's after three class trials that Jett decides to unmask himself. Mark enters the dorm room to see Jett with nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, face and body in full view. Standing awkwardly, fiddling with his hands like he doesn't know what to do with himself.
Immediately, Mark slams the door. "Sorry! I didn't know - you said to come at six, s-should I have-"
"It's fine," comes the surprisingly calm response, "you can come in, dude."
So he opens the door and looks at him properly. The reason for his suit clearly in view. Face and body scarred, hair patchy where the scarring is most severe. Mark only realises he's been staring for nearly half a minute when Jett clears his throat.
"You just gonna stand there, or..." He smiles awkwardly. Mark quickly hurries inside.
Their conversation is more stilted, this time around. Jett acts like nothing is out of the ordinary, so Mark follows suit, at a loss. Catching himself looking at him. And then Jett catches him staring and Mark looks away but then he gets distracted again, looking at the colour of his eyes, or the lock of his hair falling on his forehead, or the smile that he never got to see before. When the awkwardness gets unbearable, Mark finally points out the elephant in the room.
"I don't know why you're so nervous," he says, "you're not even ugly."
Jett laughs, but it's all wrong, self-deprecating and bitter. "Don't be like that, bro. You don't have to pity me-"
"I'm not being like anything." he insists. "And why would I pity you?"
"I mean...well..."
Jett fails to come up with an answer, and Mark nods. "See? You know I'm right."
Even after then, Jett doesn't really go back to his normal self. The next day Mark sees him at breakfast, suited again, and it's more awkward - Jett's more shy, Cassidy picking up on his weird behaviour. It makes sense, after all - whatever self-hatred that made him want to wear a mask 24/7 couldn't be undone in a single conversation. But he's happy Jett was willing to break free from that self-hatred even a little so that Mark could see his face. He's happy with every passing day, when they meet in his room, no mask or suit in sight, and Jett slowly reverts to his normal self.
He holds onto this happiness, lingering but not yet gone, as he bleeds out on the floor. Cassidy runs away, tears dripping down her face, to dispose of the bloodstained knife. Wenona was right, after all: those with weaker minds, and weaker bodies, are ideal targets for murder. Mark knew his time with Jett was always going to be limited, that Diana and Ingrid's whole idea of surviving together was never really going to work out - and this fear of death was probably what drove Jett to unmask himself so abruptly in the first place. It's the same fear that made Cassidy bury a kitchen knife in his chest and run away.
And it's the same fear, as the laundry room door swings open, that grips Jett in a chokehold at the sight of his broskii dead on the floor.