Chapter Text
It was dark.
The entire room was dark and silent, the only light a small sliver from under the door. Footsteps occasionally could be heard tip-tapping in the blindingly bright hallway.
The only sound in the dark cell was the room’s only occupant, Jack, tossing and turning on the bed. The blankets were warm and scratchy, causing a bit of a rash on his forearms. He picked at it absentmindedly, trying to distance his thoughts from the place he currently found himself. Pain often helped him to forget the much more nagging numbness in his soul.
He turned to his side again, letting out a half hearted groan as he tossed off the blanket. He started pacing, listening to his footsteps echoing through the small, padded space.
He couldn't sleep. Of COURSE he couldn't. Half the people here had some degree of insomnia or slept all the time.
The other half were doctors.
“Plip.”
Jack froze a moment, certain he just heard water dropping. Another plip. Then another. He spun in a circle, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. It took him about 2 seconds to realize the dripping sound wasn't coming from water. In his frustration, he had forgotten that his arm was bleeding. The blood had dribbled down his arm in a red trail, snaking down from the rash and dripping off his fingertips. The silence made sure each drop was heard, echoing throughout his padded prison. He sighed. The doctor's were definitely gonna have a talk with him. He was lucky the cameras turned off after lights out. They were replaced by security guards that patrolled the hallways and did random room checks.
Speaking of, where was the next guard?
He listened quietly for the guard that should have made his rounds a few minutes ago. There was only silence.
“That's odd… Normally a guard would pass by my room by now.” he murmured to himself. “They don't break protocol unless something happens.”
He had memorized the guards routes during his sleepless nights and one day a kid tried to sneak out of their room. The rooms weren't locked during the night, but often no one dared leave because of the guards. But one of the newbies, some girl with pitch black hair, got out and when it was discovered that she was missing, the guards went in a frantic search for her.
She was found in the “stuff storage,” where they keep the belongings, cuddling a demon plushie and wearing a red hoodie. They were hers, but they believed she might hurt herself with the hoodie, hence why it was in storage. They allowed her to keep the demon toy, but made her put the hoodie back, much to her dismay.
Suddenly, Jack heard the sharp sound of running footsteps coming closer to his room and muffled shouting from the other direction. As the footsteps grew closer, the shouting started to die away. The guards must be moving away.
“Click.”
Jack’s head snapped up at the sound of his door opening and somebody scrambling inside. The door shut softly and the silhouetted person slid down to their knees, panting quietly. Jack’s eyes were already adjusted to the darkness of the room, so he could clearly see the stranger’s frame. Tall, well built, with wide shoulders and big arms. His back moved up and down in time with his breathing, the soft breaths the only sound.
He had dark hair, though whether it was black or brown, Jack couldn't tell. Jack realized he had been holding his breath and released it in a sigh.
The stranger stiffened and whipped around, eyes settling on Jack.
“Oh.” the stranger’s voice made Jack shudder a bit. Not in a bad way, though. It wasn't cold or emotionless like he was used to. It flowed, smooth and soft. There was a moment of silence between them, neither of them saying a word.
“Plip.”
The stranger’s eyes travelled to Jack’s arm and his eyes went wide seeing the blood.
“You're hurt.” He whispered, more as a statement than an exclamation.
Jack shrugged, bringing a few more plips as blood dripped down his fingers again.
“It's nothin’ lad. I don't care much about it any- WAH!”
The stranger suddenly grabbed Jack's wrist and Jack instinctively twisted to try and get away. But this guy’s grip was strong, keeping him locked in place. He was suddenly pinned against the padded wall, finding himself unable to move. The stranger leaned in and Jack thought about calling out for help.
But the stranger gently kissed Jack’s scars and wound causing Jack to pause. He glanced over and the stranger whispered softly, looking Jack directly in the eyes.
“Don't hurt yourself… it's only a temporary fix… believe me,” he pulled away, though he still seemed mere inches away, rolling up his own sleeves revealing a wide range of scars from his wrists to his biceps, “I know.”
Jack was stunned.
For a moment, he wondered if this guy was seriously a patient. This guy was fucking attractive and at least seemed sane. A million questions sped through his mind, but Jack settled on the most obvious one.
“W-what’s yer name, laddie?” Jack silently cursed his Irish accent as he awaited the man’s answer.
“Mark. My name is Mark.” The man responded, still not moving away from Jack.
“Mark...” Jack murmured softly, rolling the name off his tongue, “that's a cool name.”
Mark looked mildly shocked at that statement, but shrugged.
“What about you?”
“Huh?” Jack tilted his head in confusion, bringing a low chuckled from Mark.
“I mean, what's your name?”
Jack blushed in embarrassment and turned his head away.
“Sean. But most people call me Jack.”
That whole night, they talked and asked each other questions. Little things, like what the other’s favorite color or least favorite person was. In the end of it all, Jack couldn't help but realize he was doing something he hadn't done in a long time.
Jack found himself smiling.