It's been days.
Jack hasn't said anything. Mark, who's been trying desperately to contact him, is growing more worried by the second. He called around, eventually finding out where Jack lived. Today was the day, he'd go find that boy and find out what is wrong with him. As soon as he was in Ireland, he made his way to Jacks apartment.

Jack had been quiet, no videos, no smiles, no phone calls, nothing. In fact, when he saw that picture, he left his phone in the living room along with his laptop to run out of battery and die. His eyes were red, stained from all the tears. Heavy bags hung under his eyes from lack of sleep. He felt like he was being broke up with all over again.

Yet, this somehow hurt so much more.

He hadn't ate, and he wasn't even sure if he still had a voice or not. He looked into the mirror, and he couldn't help but smile. He was pathetic. He was a wreck. He was a walking disaster. How sad it is to smile at yourself when you do not even want to be alive.

Mark knocked on the door. No answer. He gently twisted the knob, which was shockingly unlocked. Had it been unlocked this entire time? Sure Mark was relieved he could get in, but what if someone else came in since it was unlocked? He took a deep breath, entering the home. His eyes observed the empty house, and soon he spotted Jack's dead cellphone on the coffee table. Then he heard something loud. It sounded like glass being broken. He hurried upstairs, opening the bedroom door. There before him was Jack, broken mirror shards laying on the floor, and a bloody hand.
"What're you doing here?"
Jack had a sour tone, because he honestly did not want Mark to see him like this.
"Just get the fuck out. I don't wanna see you."
Mark didn't say a word. He just stood there in the doorway staring at the little mess in front of him.
"Fuck you! How could you do this to me?!"
Jack was screaming, teeth grit, tears running down his cheeks, and his blood getting all over the floor.

"Sean..."

Mark whispered his name, tears welling up in his. He was feeling pain by just seeing Jack like this. What the hell is that all about? Did he seriously not mean to hurt him? How? Who was that fucking girl?

Suddenly the questions stopped as Mark hugged him. He gripped the back of Marks shirt, soaking it with his bloody hand. Then, as Mark squeezed him tighter, he relaxed and cried his eyes out on Mark.