Mark sits up quickly, his head aching and his body sore. He quickly scans the area, his eyes frenzied.

'Where am I?'

Mark thinks to himself. He was no longer in his house, but in some type of woods, a dark place he'd never seen before. He stands up and turns around looking around for something familiar, but finding nothing.

"M-Mark!"

The red haired man's head jolts to the side as he hears a voice, the familiar Irish Accent clear, and dripping with fear. It was Jack.

Mark quickly begins running in that direction, branches whipping at his face, and nearly tripping on the uneven ground.

"Jack!?"

Mark calls out, his feet not slowing down, even when his lungs burned, barely being able to keep up with his fast pace.

"Ja-"

Mark begins before stopping at some sort of clearing. His eyes scan over the scene, Jack stood in the middle of the space, but he wasn't alone. A man stood behind him, his hand holding onto the man's shoulder tightly, and his free hand grasping a sharp knife gleaming in the light that peeked through the trees.

Mark looks at Jack's face, his blue eyes fearful, tear marks streaming his paled face, and his eyes begging for help.

Mark forces himself to look away from the Green haired man, and brings his eyes over to the man, recognizing him instantly, it was Dark. Looking exactly like Mark, but his eyes were a deep crimson, his red hair pushed back lazily and his mouth curled into a sinister grin, sharpened teeth visible.

"Dark..."

Mark breathes out quietly, his hands balling into fists. He takes a step forward but stops as Dark raises the knife to Jack's throat. Jack sucks in a breath as he feels the cold metal press against the tender flesh of his neck.

"I thought we got rid of you....how are you here?"

Mark questions, his eyes watching each small movement, resisting the urge to walk forward. Dark simply smiles more, not answering his questions, his eyes seem to shift, instead of being the deep red, now a simple brown.

Mark watches curiously, but soon forgets about his eyes as the knife is slid across Jacks throat. Jack gulps, struggling to take a couple breaths as red spills across his pale flesh, his blue eyes slowly dimming as life leaks out of him. He falls to the ground, wriggling around in the dirt, red splattering the green grass, and a bit dripping down Darks face, and covering the shining blade that was still held in the man's hand.

Mark's eyes widen, as Jack's body goes finally still, his face pales, and he holds back the urge to vomit at the scene. Tears form in his eyes as he glares at the man. He prepares to rush forward but stops as Dark's image blurs slightly, his dyed red hair shifting to a black, his face shifting slightly and his small stubble covered by a thick black beard.

Mark's eyes widen even more as he no longer looks at Dark, but at Ken, holding the knife, the smile still in place, menacing, ominous, sickening.

"Soon..."

Ken growls quietly, his eyes going to Mark, his voice a deep growl. Mark opens his mouth to speak, but can't form the words, tears simply beginning to stream his face before the world goes black.

Mark sits up quickly, his eyes looking around his surroundings. He wasn't in the forest, but his own bedroom now. He lifts a shaky hand to his head and pushes his hair back, his hair was drenched in a layer of sweat and his body rocked with shakes.

He was alone in the room but heard talking from downstairs. Had to have just been a dream, but it felt so real, like he was really there. He shakes his head struggling to remember what happened before he blacked out, he remembered Ken, his eyes being red, but that was it.

Why was this happening to him, it was just Ken... Just ken, not Dark....

But Ken's dark voice still lingers in his mind.

Soon...

Mark hesitantly swings his legs over the side of the bed, once his bare feet hit the cold ground he forces himself to stand. His legs wobble a bit, threatening to give out but he holds himself up. He grabs onto the wall and makes his way out the door. Slowing down on the stairs, but soon making it to the kitchen without much incident.

As he walks in, he sees the three men talking about seemingly nothing important, just games and YouTube. All three men look up as Mark walks in, keeping a particular gaze on Ken.

"Mark, you're up."

Jack exclaims happily walking forward. He reaches up and feels Mark's forehead gently, a bit of worry shining in his eyes as he drops his hand.

"Your fever went down it seems. How are you feeling?"

Jack questions watching the red haired man closely. Mark smiles slightly, though it was forced, and shrugs.

"Fine I suppose.... What happened?"

Before Jack answers his question he leads the man over to one of the stools at the counter and has him sit down, noticing the unsteadiness of his legs. As Mark sits, his eyes glance over to Ken who was standing just on the other side of the counter, across from Felix who sat next to Mark.

Ken was watching him, simply a bored look on his face, and his eyes brown. Though Mark still could only remember the bloody knife he'd been holding in his dream.

"Well... You passed out, and you had a really bad fever. I was about to call 911 but Felix told me you'd be fine."

Jack finally responds, thinking back on it. His worry seemed to grow as he thought about it, he truly thought Mark wasn't going to make it. Mark's eyes go over to Felix who smiles slightly watching Jack, his smile seemingly normal, though Mark thought he saw almost a dark undertone to it.

"Right....."

Mark mutters his gaze going to Ken once more before simply down, looking at his hands which still shook slightly.

"Here I'll get you some water."

Jack suggests, smiling slightly, his voice showing how much he wanted to help the man. Mark says nothing as Jack grabs a glass and begins filling it with tap water. As he does Mark's head begins pounding a bit, a part of his mind telling him something was really wrong. His eyes instinctively go to Ken, who watched Jack closely, a hint of anger hidden underneath his brown orbs.

Soon Jack sets the glass in front of Mark. Mark pulls his gaze away from the black haired man and grabs the glass.

"Thanks...."

He mutters quietly, the pounding in his head continuing. Jack nods and leans against the counter, resting his hands on it for support.

"I'm happy you're ok Mark... I thought I'd lose you...."

Jack admits after a long silence had fallen on the room. Ken smiles slightly and reaches his hand up, petting Jack's green hair gently, but no kindness to his touch, seeming to resist the urge to hurt the man, to crush him right there and then.

"Yah, he was worried sick."

Ken chuckles. Mark growls and sets the glass down roughly, some water spilling out of the edges and onto the counter.

"Don't touch him you son of a bitch!"

Mark snarls, his loud voice echoing off the small kitchen. Jack flinches, startled at the man's outburst, as Ken slowly removes his hand from Jack's hair, his eyes slightly wide surprised at the sudden anger. The kitchen is thrown into a thick silence, no one wanting to speak.

Mark glared at Ken, who watched him closely, his brown orbs curious.

"Felix... Ken... Why don't you two go get ready for bed.... I... I need to talk to Mark...."

Jack finally breaks the silence, his voice quiet, worried as usual, but a fearful undertone to his Irish accent.

Both men nod, and Ken follows the blonde Swede out of the kitchen, both of them silent. Once they are out of the kitchen Jack turns to Mark, who had put his head down into his hands breathing a bit heavily to calm himself.

"Mark what the hell was that?"

Jack asks quietly walking forward slowly, his hand hesitantly reaching out to touch the man's shoulder.

"Nothing..."

Mark murmurs under his breath, almost inaudible.

"It wasn't nothing, you just shouted at one of our guests... One of our friends."

Jack retorts, his voice slightly annoyed now. Mark stays quiet, hesitant to say anything else.

"I just.... I didn't like the way he touched you...."

Mark finally murmurs again, not wanting to say anything about the dream he'd just had not even ten minutes ago.

"He just pet my hair Mark... It's just a friendly gesture."

Jack rolls his eyes slightly, his thumb rubbing small circles on the man's shoulder, trying to calm him.

"I just didn't like it."

Mark mumbles once again, much to Jack's annoyance.

"Mark it was just-"

"I don't want him touching you alright!"

Mark shouts lifting his head quickly and grabbing onto Jack's wrist, holding it tightly. Jack looks at him, eyes wide, face pale, surprised and slightly scared at the man's outburst.

"M-Mark..."

Jack quietly stutters, his voice pained as Mark's iron grip holds his wrist. Mark quickly drops his wrist once he realized what he'd done  terrified of his own outburst, he knew he was losing it, but to hurt his own love? He had problems.

"S-Sean... I'm sorry... I...."

Mark begins quietly apologizing, cut off as Jack shakes his head, holding his wrist, his blue eyes refusing to meet Mark's, this small motion making the red haired man's heart break slightly.

"I'll sleep on the couch tonight.... You should get some rest..."

Jack mutters, turning away without another word and walking out of the kitchen and to the living room. Mark watches after him, resisting the urge to follow. He sighs and puts his head in his arms on the counter, forcing back tears that threatened to overtake him.

He hurt Sean.... What was happening?