F O U R
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Jack felt like someone was watching him.

It was as if he barely had a wink of sleep before he woke again, startled by some inner instinct that screamed at him to be alert. He remained still, not moving. His heartbeat quickened, but he tried to force it to calm, which was pointless. He barely breathed, trying to appear relaxed. Trying to appear asleep.

The only other person in the house was Mark, so he was the one staring at him. But why? He was acting like Edward Cullen from that stupid vampire-werewolf movie his sisters forced him to watch years ago.

Yet he wasn't some sparkling immortal monster. This was Mark, and he was acting completely weird. It frightened Jack immensely.

Then, he heard a whisper. Soft, faint, but undeniably there. It sent chills up Jack's spine and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to raise. Every inch of his body tensed up, every muscle poised to run.

"I know you're awake."

He swallowed, debating on behaving oblivious still. But there was no hope in playing this game any longer. So he jerked into a sitting position, the blanket flying off him and cascading onto the ground.

He looked up, and sure enough, there was Mark, his figure a mere silhouette leaning against the wall ahead of him. In the pure blackness, Jack panicked. "Mark, what do you think you're doing?" He demanded, trying to control the tremor in his voice. "All this creepy shit is getting old—"

In a flash, Mark was in front of him. It all happened so fast, Jack barely registered any of it. His mouth went dry and his hands shook, so he tightened them into fists to sustain the trembling.

"What do you mean by that, Jack?" He questioned, his tone incredulous. "I'm not acting creepy. Am I?"

Jack felt sick. He thought he was going to be sick. He prayed he was dreaming, and when he woke up, Mark would be back to normal, his regular self. But a part of him knew this was no dream. This was reality.

"Yes, you are acting creepy!" He snapped, his voice raising. "You're acting incredibly creepy, and it's honestly getting tedious, and you know how much I hate tedious things—"

"So what?" Mark interrupted, his voice lowering. "You hate me now?"

"I never said I hated you—you're just acting tedious and I don't like it—" Jack started, but Mark's voice overlapped his own.

"You need to learn to watch your mouth," he snarled, and Jack was left in absolute shock. Everything seemed to slow, and his mouth parted slightly in an 'O' shape.

What did he just tell me to do?

That surprise was being replaced with cold, hard fury. It settled into his veins and fueled him, fueled him to the point where he was brave enough to whisper, "What did you just say?"

But that was the wrong thing to do, and Jack realized that soon enough. He regretted it a moment later, just as Mark snapped.