Secrets (Sequel to Danger In Love)

Loneliness

Jack sighs, the silence of his stone cell beginning to get to him once again. He'd been staring at the same wall, the same floor, the same dark room for what felt like forever, almost making him feel like he was going mad.

Of course he didn't know how many days had past, the only way he could judge days had past was by the meals, three a day, of course the food wasn't good, however he still ate it, not wanting to starve regardless of the shit-hole he had to stay in.

Normally he wouldn't be bothered, he remembered preparing himself to be in a place like this, before he met Mark. The thought of Jail didn't bother him before, however now, he had someone on the outside, someone to look forward to... Mark.

Thinking of Mark again pains the Irish man. Mark the man he dragged into this mess he called life, the man who was willing to help him no matter what, the man who defended cry.... The man who called him a criminal.

"Son of a bitch."

Jack snarls as these thoughts plague him. The green haired man can't control himself as his fist meets the concrete wall next to the cot he sat on. The cement makes a slight cracking sound, or was that his knuckles? He couldn't tell.

His hand stings with pain, red staining his knuckles, perhaps even broken. The Irish man's blue eyes tear up as he brings his legs up, burying his face in his knees as tears begin to fall. However it wasn't because of his beaten knuckles, but instead because of the red haired man who overwhelmed his thoughts.

Mark hadn't visited Jack again since their fight, and it had to have been at least a week by now. Did Jack really anger the man that much?

"Why do you care...? He doesn't' think of you as any more than a damned criminal..."

Jack sniffles quietly into his knees, his tears falling more and more, choking him up. The red haired man's face flashing through his thoughts, his laugh, his heartwarming smile, his soft calming voice. The way he once looked at Jack with genuine love.

"I'm so stupid..."

Jack murmurs under his breath. Why did he think it would work? Mark was a good guy, Jack was a filthy criminal. It was never meant to be, it would have never worked, no matter how much the Irish man wanted it to, it wouldn't work.

At least an hour had to have passed since Jack's scene, which he knew whatever guard was watching him had seen. The Irish man had calmed himself, sitting on the cot and leaning against the wall, his tears had stopped, he couldn't cry anymore, he wouldn't.

Instead he focused all his thoughts on the dark room that surrounded him. It was all stone with only a small uncomfortable cot, and a small toilet. No windows and the only light being from a small gap in the metal door, though that didn't do much.

Normally Jack would have been with another inmate, which perhaps could've helped distract him, but he was put into a single cell. Most likely after the few scenes he had caused, attacking the guard on his first day, just recently attacking another inmate who had pissed him off. It wasn't fully his fault, anger had still gotten to him. Anger at Cry, anger at the cop PJ, and recently some anger at Mark, the man he once loved. The one he still loved.

Of course the loneliness had only made it worse, leaving him to nothing but his own thoughts. He tried to distract himself, though there was only so much he could do. He'd counted each stone tile on the floor many times, counted the minutes until he got so bored he thought he'd die, tried to distinguish the footsteps that occasionally came by his room. However nothing worked, his thoughts always returned to the red haired man.