Jack's POV:

I clutched the phone tightly to my chest, my hands grasping it as if it was my only connection left of reality. I could see myself in that moment, shaking and stuttering as pain draped it's ghostly, intoxicating blankets across my body. I felt like a lifeless silhouette of someone I used to be, and I knew that person was long gone.

I let myself fall to floor, the phone still tightly held against me. Every muscle in my body began to twitch and release. Each breath sent shrapnel of imaginary particles into my throat, cutting the sides of it like blades. You can do this Jack. I hung loosely on those words.

The pain slowly subsided, and I was once again left empty. The phone began to become slippery as it threatened to escape, but I wouldn't let it. It was my only link left to the last conversation I had with Mark, the last bit of happiness that drowned out. I stood, my knees weak and wobbly beneath me. "Ugh..." I groaned, my heavy breathing beginning to calm down. These breakdowns always passed, and were luckily much less severe than a few months ago. It seemed so strange to think it had been that long since that attempt.

I leaned my back against the wall, and let myself sink again back to the floor. I could feel my body slowly reach its normal state, and finally the shaking and quivering stopped. My hands ached as I released the phone. Every last bit of strength I had left was wasted holding it. All I could feel was numbness as I brought my legs to my chest. "Damn," I muttered between clenched teeth. The savory sweet taste of my everlasting depression always ended up fading, but of course coming back at the worst times. Like now.

My head throbbed as I rubbed it with the sweaty palm of my hand. Just thinking that I'd be leaving to Pax tomorrow was too much. I was so overwhelmed, and it kept pushing me off the edge. I couldn't be more excited to see the outstandingly supportive fans, but there was a part of me that knew I would let them down. I wouldn't be that usually bubbly Jack that they loved. I wasn't that person at all. I knew I would be if I got myself out of this pit I fell into. Faking it was a completely different story.

A shadow of self-pity casted over me. I banged my head on the back of the wall, the sound reverberating within the apartment. Every aching second that went by seemed to tear my imaginary wounds futhur. I felt myself slipping, slowly fading back into the grave I dug.

The tears felt like melting liquid as they streamed down my face. The areas they touched decayed, seeping through to my core. I wanted death to take me in that moment. It would have been so much easier to give up then, to never see the man I loved. I could hear it whispering my name so delicately, pulling me into it's cold arms. A sickening, twisted shiver crawled up my neck. I felt the touch of hatred against my skin for the thousandth time.

I wanted to scream, to throw my fists in the air and get myself out. Yet I sat there, so helplessly silent I felt death had already taken hold. Mark's name slipped through my parted lips, the only source of light I could ever see on the end of the horizon. I just wanted to breath my worries free, and escape the despair that constantly surrounded me.

I knew he couldn't possibly feel the way I feel, how he was my only sense of anything anymore. My light to guide me, my soul, my everything. He was my reason to live. What was the point if there was no beginning with us? When my end was never our start? The taste of Mark's lips against mine was only so far. I saw no point, no struggle to be his. When I searched for the will there was none to be found. There never was, and I let myself believe an illusion.

I needed him, and I hated that. I didn't want him to have to deal with me. I couldn't bare knowing he was suffering because of me. I hated having him as my only escape. My only eyes to the morning light. Thinking about him let me finally feel something other than hate. I thought about our future together, even if it was entirely nonexistent.

I knew he didn't deserve my burdens. He didn't need the trouble of having me in his life, so I strayed. Or, I tried to. I knew eventually ignoring calls and not cutting off communication in total wouldn't work. I had to be able to talk to Mark, and keeping him out of my life would only cause further desperation. He told me there wasn't always darkness in my life. That I was worthy, even if I didn't believe it.

On the days that I did I felt I could breath again.

I had to fake that ridiculous smile like I had been for the past few months not just for Mark, but for the countless supportive fans that wanted nothing more than to meet me. Seeing their tired faces and sore expressions from hours being in line made me guilty beyond what I thought I was capable of. They had just wanted to see me, to get a small hug, and I wouldn't barely be able to give them that. I reminded myself of this daily. I hated this part of me, but it now seems to be the only one left.

I cupped my face within shaking hands and closed my eyes gently, the pitiful tears still burning like acid against my skin. All of my energy was drained, leaking out of my body and seeping into the floor. I couldn't stay awake a second longer. I was too exhausted to care about all of my worries for Pax in the morning. I let myself escape once more and fell into blissful unconsciousness.   

Authors Note: 

Thank you to absolutely everyone who was continued to support this story. All of your kind words amaze me and I feel so loved and overwhelmed by each of you and your positive feed back. I love you all to bits. Everything that all of you say inspires me to write this. Thank you for everything, it truly means the world to me. I could never put how grateful I am into words. I hope all of you are having a fantastically lovely day ♡