--Septiplier One Shots--

Fear and Blame

(wOAH WHAT'S THIS AN UPDATE? Yeah, by the way, the book went on hold for a while. But now I'm back so yay parties woooo!! I don't know what else to put so hERE'S A GREAT PICTURE.

-Trigger Warning-)

He was scared. So, so scared. He never went to school anymore, being too afraid to get up and face another day of his life. He didn't eat much, he never really had much of an appetite anymore. He didn't talk to his friends very much either, for he was warey of what they would say to him. What if they found out about his problem? They'd call him pathetic. He was scared for his own life. He was scared he wouldn't make it to the end of it.

Today was one of those days. He had gotten dressed into his school uniform, combed his hair and made sure it looked perfect, he'd eaten his breakfast and he'd brushed his teeth. He was ready for the day to start, but he never did make it out the door. He was just about to put his hand on the doorknob and twist it, but he didn't. He shook his head, sighed, and walked away from the door. He knew how much trouble he was getting himself into, but it didn't really matter anymore considering this wasn't the first time. The worst the school could do was kick him out, and that wouldn't bother him at all. Maybe I could just get homeschooled? Can't run from that.

He chucked his bag to the foot of the stairs and dragged himself into the front room, flopping on the couch with a groan. He sat there for a minute, just blankly staring at the wooden coffee table in front of him before breaking down into tears. This is exactly what he was scared of. He had no idea why he was so depressed and tearful, he just was. Sure, some things would trigger him, but it didn't happen much. He would just randomly burst into tears, and quite a lot too.

He hated the fact that he was such a coward, running away from his problems instead of facing them head on like the other kids. He was so weak, so weak that he couldn't even think of ending his life himself. He was just too scared to. No one believed in him anymore, they saw that there was no point. His parents didn't even bother yelling at him for not going to school anymore, for they knew it would make no difference. This is how he was, and no one could help him. He was stuck in an endless loop of depression, guilt, fear and blame.

His breathing erratic, the boy buried his head in his hands and pulled at his hair roughly, trying to get himself to stop the tears from falling, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing happened. He let out a few loud sobs, followed by scream of anger. He was always angry at himself, angry at the fact that he couldn't do anything right, all he could do was hurt people. He drove people away, reduced them to tears, hurt them. He couldn't help it. He was mentally unstable, but that wasn't a good enough excuse for the other students. They all saw him as a freak, or at least that's what the boy assumed they thought of him.

He hated it. He hated it all. The feeling of regret, the feeling of throwing everything away, but isn't it so much easier?

It was like he was trapped inside his own head, the darker side of him taking over for just enough time to pull him away from what he called his life, then to drop him back into reality where he doesn't have the courage to pull himself back up and go do what he has to.

He sighed, lifting his head from his hands slightly and peering around the room, only to be interrupted by a sound coming from the other side of the door. The desperate knock echoed around the house, making the boy flinch in his spot on the couch. He gasped, eyes darting to the cream coloured porch before shaking his head and ignoring it.

"Jack! C'mon, I know you're in there!" The boy on the other side shouted, knocking again. He tried to open the door, but, as expected, it was locked. Jack heard a soft thud against the door, probably whoever was outside leaning against it in defeat, and groaned. He pushed himself up, careful not to walk into the coffee table as he lazily shuffled his way over to the door.

He swung it open, quite noticeably pissed off, and glared at the person who he had expected. "What the fuck are you doing here, Mark?" He spat, taking Mark back a bit by his greeting. "Can't you see I'm busy?" He added sarcastically, looking off to the side of his friend, his only friend, with narrowed eyes. He glared at Mark again, waiting for an answer.

Instead of responding verbally, the red haired teenager pushed his way into Jack's house, mainly because he had seen the tears running down the boy's face. The Irishman stumbled back a bit, gasping at the sudden force, and shot Mark an angry look.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or are you just going to continue to give me that look?" The American smiled, tilting his head to the side a bit as he did. It wasn't a sarcastic gesture, he was just trying to give off a friendly vibe. It seemed to work a bit, because he noticed Jack's tensed muscles ease a bit. "You haven't been at school for a few days, you've been trying your hardest to ignore me, I heard you crying just a minute ago, and you're acting kind of shitty." He shrugged his shoulders after he finished talking, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking at the wooden floorboards beneath his feet.

"I wasn't crying." Jack mumbled, folding his arms over his chest and looking away, a thing he normally did when he was lying, which Mark had caught onto a long time ago. He saw the open window in the corner of his eye and let out an agitated sigh, standing up straight and moving his blazer a little. "Alright, guess I can't back out of this one, huh? Maybe I was crying, but it's none of your damn business."

The second the green haired boy had said that, Mark put his hands on his best friend's shoulders and looked him in the eyes, a serious expression on his face. Shocked to see Mark serious for once, Jack kept his mouth shut for the time being and let the other speak. "Look, you think everyone's given up on you, right? That no one cares? Well, that's not completely true, is it? I mean, I'm stood right here in front of you, asking you what's wrong. No one is going to be able to help you until you start helping yourself, are they?"

Jack, lost for words, just stared at him for a second before shaking his head and coming back into the real world. He exhaled loudly, never breaking eye contact with Mark, and unfolded his arms. He wanted to let everything fall from his mouth all my itself, but he didn't. He was too afraid. He didn't want to bury the boy with his problems.

He shook his head in reply to Mark's final question, even though he wasn't expecting one, and let out a small whimper. After that, he broke down in his arms, feeling the taller one hold him tightly.

"No matter how hard it is, you have to let people in eventually. It doesn't have to be anything big to start with, but you can't keep hiding things." Mark told him softly, rubbing calming circles on Jack's back in an attempt to make him stop crying. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Yeah, but you'd probably hate me." An empty chuckle escaped the younger one's lips.

"Hate you? Don't be silly, you goober, I can't hate you, it's practically impossible." Mark smiled when he noticed Jack's heart beat a little faster against his own. He felt him smile a little too, but he didn't know if it was genuine.

"Aren't you going to school?" Jack asked, trying to change the subject even though Mark would jump right back to it afterwards. The Irishman was actually concerned about his friend not going to school, since he always said he wanted to be an engineer, which takes a lot of studying and work.

"Nope, I'm not leaving you when you're like this. We're going to play video games, and you're going to feel better. Understand?"

Jack let out an actual, genuine laugh, "Yes, Sir."