The Grim Reaper (Markiplier AU)

IIX: Truth

(Small edit on 4/16 did nothing but change the pronouns used from strictly feminine to gender-neutral. I didn't even notice I did that and I apologize.)

You sat up, looking around your room frantically.

"Mark, I'm not in the mood for your bullshit right now," you stated. You were afraid. Paranoid. Scared shirtless. "This isn't fucking funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny," Mark stated, his voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"Then stop hiding!" He laughed, the deep, rich chuckles echoing loudly off of the walls of your bedroom. The light on your bedside table began flickering, furniture around your room shaking as though an earthquake had started.

"Aw, but why? Are you afraid, Y/N?"

"Yes I fucking am. Now stop it. Please." Your voice cracked, something that you tried to avoid in order to sound less pathetic than you knew you were. It seemed to have worked though. In an instant, the shaking and flickering had stopped and Mark was leaning against your bedroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, his brown eyes illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table.

"Sorry about that," he stated, scratching the back of his neck. "I got carried away. I, uh, didn't mean to freak you out or anything."

"You're an ass," you stated. You threw the covers off of your body and swung your legs over the side of your bed.

"I'm aware," he stated, following you with his eyes as you walked into your bathroom. You turned on the sink and splashed water into your face in an attempt to both calm you down and wake you up. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied. You knew that wasn't true, but there was no way that you were going to tell him that. "May I ask what you're doing here?"

"You asked a question, and I felt that I should answer it." You exited the bathroom to find him laying on your bed twirling an old soccer ball in his hands.

"I could really care less," you stated bluntly. "I need to get some sleep." As you were approaching your bed he sat up, setting the soccer ball down onto the floor as gently as possible. You sat down next to him, rubbing your face as though trying to keep the exhaustion from showing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You were about to nod, but stopped yourself. You wrapped your fingers around the ring he'd given you and twisted it.

"No. I don't understand any of this. I'm incredibly tired but I'm confused and I want answers so that I can fucking relax." You stood up and started pacing, running a hand through your messy hair. "I just want to know why."

"Why what?" Mark asked standing up from your bed. You stopped your pacing, looking at him desperately for him to understand.

"Why me?! What part do I have to play in whatever the fuck this is? I'm in the fucking dark here and you need to explain or you need to leave me alone."

"Y/N, there's something bigger going on here that you don't need to worry about. Not yet."

"No, Mark, that's not how this fucking works. You tell me now or there's nothing I can do to help you."

"Y/N, you shouldn't get involved until the time is right."

"You tell me right now or I will never see or speak to you ever again." His face contorted with emotion in such a way that you felt genuinely guilty.

First it was shock. His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly as though he couldn't believe what you were saying. Then it shifted to hurt. He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head as he attempted to shake your words out of his head. He didn't know you long but he knew well enough that you weren't lying. The look on his face was painful to look at, the stress embedded in his pores making you feel like scum for saying what you did. Lastly was defeat. His expression dropped. He suddenly looked as tired as you felt. He sat on your bed and put his face in his hands.