flight log » markson

⛈turbulence⛈ twelve

The only way Jackson could describe the past two weeks was hell. He had left Mark alone and acted like he was magically happy again, and no one said a thing. Jackson really hoped that they were just too scared to speak up and that they didn't actually believe he was better. He felt anything but fine.

On the bright side, Mark seemed happier. Without Jackson constantly vomiting his feelings at him, he was able to relax and focus on himself. To Jackson, that was enough to justify his not so healthy actions. If keeping shut about his emotions meant his friends were happier, then there wasn't much Jackson would do to change things.

Still, Jackson couldn't help feeling bitter about everything. His negative mindset kept telling him that no one cared enough to question his sudden mood change. They told him they'd help him out, yet they seemed to just ignore how his problems seemingly disappeared. It wasn't like Jackson was going to say anything, but that didn't mean he wasn't constantly complaining in his head.

His breaking point was after a not so successful dance practice. For the third night in a row, the boys wanted to go out to eat, and Jackson really didn't want to. Besides having to watch his weight (even though he still hadn't gained any back from his time in China), he was feeling terrible about how practice went. He felt like he was really dragging the team down, and that mere thought made everything crash down.

Jackson wasn't aware that, when he ran back to the dorms, Mark had been following. Mark had heard his sniffles and seen him shaking. He was in the house when Jackson trudged into his room and locked the door, ready to sob his heart out. He was there to stop Jackson from overdosing.

"Jackson? Are you alright in there?" Mark jiggled the doorknob, pissed off that they lost the keys to their bedroom doors years ago.

"Mark?" Jackson quickly wiped his nose and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I'm right here." Mark fiddled with the door some more, thinking of some ways he could pick the lock. "Can you let me in?"

"I can't," Jackson choked out. It was like his body was acting on its own as he unscrewed the sleeping medication he took from the bathroom. Did he really want to follow through with this?

"Why not?" Mark's whole body froze as worst case scenarios flooded his mind. "Just open the door, Jackson."

"I can't." Jackson let out a choked sob as he poured the contents into his hand. Every part of his body was screaming to stop, but he couldn't.

"Jackson, open the fucking door." Mark took a look around and realised that he would have to break the door down. He didn't have time to find another solution.

"Don't come in!"

The whole world slowed down as Jackson swallowed his handful of pills and, at the same time, Mark came crashing into the room. Regret immediately sunk into Jackson's gut, but he also didn't want to do anything about it. Mark quickly pieced together what happened and dragged him into the bathroom. It felt like Jackson was underwater until Mark's harsh voice cut into his mind, pulling him out of his sea of thoughts.

"Throw up. Throw up the pills right now," Mark demanded. Jackson shook his head in a daze, wishing the pills would work faster.

"I don't want to." Jackson could feel his stomach disagree. He choked down the pills that were creeping back up his throat and weakly attempted to fight of Mark.

"Sit down and throw the pills up." Mark forcefully sat Jackson down in front of the toilet and continued shouting. After three minutes of arguing, Jackson couldn't keep the pills down anymore.

"No! I wanted to... I wanted..." Jackson's words were cut short by more vomiting and sobbing. By the time his stomach was empty, he was too busy crying to speak.

"You're a fucking idiot! What were you thinking?" Mark shouted, causing Jackson to flinch away and cry harder.

"I'm sorry," Jackson whimpered. He curled into a ball and wished he could disappear. Mark immediately softened at the sight.

"How could you do something like this again? You were doing so well." Mark sat down next to Jackson and pulled him into his arms, feeling Jackson basically go limp in his hold.

"I wasn't okay." Jackson spoke quietly as he hid his face in Mark's shirt, afraid to look at his surroundings. He knew if he was able to see Mark's face or the pill bottle on the ground, his mood would only worsen.

"Then why didn't you say something? Why the hell would you let it get so far?" Mark's voice unintentionally rose, making Jackson try to squirm out of his grip. Mark held on tighter, not letting Jackson go.

"You guys seemed so happy. I just figured that you'd be better off without me," Jackson whispered. He held back the next round of sobs that fought their way up, telling himself that he needed to suck it up.

"Why would you ever think that?" As the thought of Jackson actually being dead settled into Mark's mind, Mark couldn't stop himself from shedding a few tears. "Don't you realise how devastated we'd be? Who would I be without you?"

"You would be Mark Tuan. And GOT7 would still be GOT7. I don't define any of you." Jackson hadn't thought about how hard of a time his group would have if he had died and the news got out. There'd be so much drama—suicide was a messy way out.

"I love you. You can't just leave me like that," Mark mumbled, aware of how selfish he sounded.

"I love you, too. I just... It's hard." Jackson wanted to tell Mark about everything he locked up the past two weeks, but he kept his mouth shut, still afraid to just speak up.

"What's so hard that being dead would be easier? What's so hard that you think leaving us would be better?" Mark's voice cracked, feeling terrible that he never thought to ask how Jackson was really doing. He was so naive to think things could be so perfect so quickly.

"Everything," Jackson stated nonchalantly. "I'm sure you know about how much I hate myself after the millions of times I told you. I just stopped talking about it because it was nothing new. Why bother you with the same old problems?"

"This matters to me, Jackson. All I want is for you to be happy. We offered to help, and you still tried to deal with it yourself. Just let us help you." Mark moved Jackson away to make eye contact with a him, but Jackson refused and just stared at the ground.

"You guys didn't even question my sudden change of behaviour," Jackson grumbled.

"We're all so busy-"

"Then don't tell me that you'll help me when you don't have the time to!" Jackson immediately regretted shouting when Mark sat up, his figure seeming scarily huge despite how small and skinny he was.

"Don't blame this on us," Mark began slowly, fighting back his anger. "We're all at fault here. I think that this whole situation just proves that we, a group of childish men in their early twenties, is not enough to magically solve your problems."

"Then what? If you guys can't help me, what are we supposed to do? Can you just leave me be?" Jackson did want to get better for the sake of his friends and to maintain GOT7's image, but part of him didn't want to. Part of him just wanted to give up.

"That's not what I mean." Mark grabbed Jackson's chin, forcing eye contact so Jackson could see how serious Mark was. "We need to get professional help. We need to tell our staff and you need to get real help."

"But Mark-"

"There aren't any arguments. I'm calling our manager and telling him tonight," Mark finalised. He stood up and began cleaning up the mess around the bathroom. "Go clean yourself up. Get ready for bed and wait in the living room. We're telling our other members too."

Jackson knew he couldn't say anymore and groggily pushed himself up. He still felt a little nauseous, but he ignored it and followed Mark's directions. Before he left to get a change of clothes, he took a quick look at Mark, a heavy feeling settling in his gut.

He felt terrible for how much he put Mark through, but he was suddenly determined to get better. With how firm Mark was, Jackson knew there was no way around Mark's decision and that he'd have to seek professional help. Therapy and maybe even medication was inevitably going to be part of Jackson's future, so he might as well take the opportunity. He had to fix himself; if not for himself, he'd do it for Mark.

Jackson was going to try his best.