Septiplier One-Shots

Resurrection

Jack circled around the pentagram scratched into his floor. By the dim candlelight, it was evident he had not sleep for days. His hair was a complete mess and dark eye bags dipped below his eyes. He brought his hand up to his face, as if he was going to rest it against his cheek. Instead he reached up further and sank his fingers into his eye socket. Yowling at the pain, Jack forced himself to pull his own eye out, tossing into the pentagram once it was done. It bounced once before rolling to a stop by a corpse and a dog's paw. Jack ignored the blood streaming down his face as he began chanting. His voice rose and fell in fevered excitement, speaking a unintelligible jumble of words.

"And let him be reborn!" Jack screamed, raising one outstretched hand. At first it seemed like nothing had happened. But then, the body in the middle of the etched symbol, the body that should've been dead, shifted. It turned over and Jack could see clearly the face of his beloved. The face of the man that had driven him, literally, to the brink of madness.

"Mark," he said softly. Then louder, "Mark! It's you! You're alive!" Jack ran over to the figure laying on the ground.

"It's been so long, too long, since-" his voice choked up, unwilling to speak of the horrible incident. Jack fell to his knees besides the man. He didn't even have the energy to look him in the face.

"Since I was stabbed by a crazed fan and died?" Mark's quiet velvety voice was just as he remembered. Comforting in times of sadness, threatening when it needed to be. Jack nodded and let himself be pulled into a hug. He could feel the sticky wetness of blood, but there was also something else on his cheeks. Tears, he realized. It was tears of joy. Clutching Mark tightly against him, Jack thought of the last time he'd shed real tears. He'd been sitting in a pub, drinking his YouTube money away when a small voice inside his head asked him 'What if he could bring Marl back to life?'. From then on there had been no more tears. Only research on resurrection and black magic. Jack had become a shut in, even ignoring his fans when they asked why his videos had stopped. All he could think about was Mark and how he would finally admit his feelings to him once he was alive again. Well now he was, and it was time. Jack raised his head from within the folds of his love's funeral suit.

"Mark, I have something I need to tell you-"

"Jack! What happened to your eye?" Jack melted at the concern in Mark's voice. Even after being freshly brought back from the dead, he cared more about the people around his than himself.

"Oh, it's nothing," he said, waving his hand, "Only a flesh wound." Jack smiled, hoping he would get a laugh from his friend. Unfortunately Mark only looked back at him with a confused expression.

"This is serious, Jack, you're bleeding. Alot!" Mark brought a hand up to Jack's cheek and dipped it in the scarlet liquid.

"Okay, okay. Watch." Jack reluctantly pulled away from Mark's grasp. He looked down as he murmured some foreign words under his breath. When he looked up, his previously empty socket was filled. A bright neon eye with an equally bright blue pupil sat where his regular eye should have been.

"You don't like it?" asked Jack disappointedly. Mark hadn't said a word, just stared at him with an shocked look. In a surge of bravery, words spilled from his mouth. Words he had wanted to say a thousand times but couldn't.

"I love you Mark. Always have, always will." Jack felt his face heat up, but didn't look away. He watched his crush's face closely, waiting for a reaction. Suddenly Mark's eyes filled with an inky black.

"I love you too," Mark hissed. He reached up to cup Jack's cheek in his hand. "And your eye is delightful. Now kiss me." Warning bells went off in Jack's head telling him this wasn't Mark. No matter how much it looked and acted like him, it wasn't his Mark. But the not-Mark was drawing closer. He didn't have much time to decide wether he should pull away or let it be. Jack gave up all resistance. It was startlingly cold and surprisingly delicious. Not-Mark's lips were cold, as were his hands and his embrace. His whole body radiated a chilly presence suited only for, well, the dead. Despite the frigidness of the kiss, Jack couldn't help but want more. There was painful sweetness to it. Like when you took too big of a bite of ice cream and got a brain freeze. He felt himself drowning in the embrace. Melting like ice on a summer day. When Dark, the name Jack had given Not-Mark, paused to take a breather, Jack pulled him right back down. It was his addiction.

"More," he moaned. "I want more." Dark tsked.

"Come now," he murmured, allowing Jack to steal one last kiss before drawing himself away, "Don't be greedy."

"But Dark," Jack all but whined. His voice was breathy as he brought air to his lungs.

"Calling me Dark, eh?" With a flick of his eyelids, Dark's eyes were regular again. "Then I shall call you Anti." Another flick. Eyes black. "My darling little Anti." Jack smiled and sighed. He had decided. No matter who was going to be the moving force behind that voice, be it Mark or Dark, he would listen for a million years.

"I love you Dark," 'Darling Anti' sang. "Don't leave me."

"As do I," grinned the demon. "Til death do us part." Jack giggled.

"So, never."

~~~~
Thanks to @kawaiicutie101 for suggesting a darkxanti fic.

I've wanted to write one about the two but never found motivation for it. I hope none of you were too disgusted when Jack pulled his eye out.

FYI- the dog paw was Chica's paw. Sorry baby girl but Jack needs to bring his crush back.