It's Psychological (Antisepticeye x reader)

An explanation.

Under your terrified stare Jack runs an agitated hand through his hair as he starts to leave. But you're having none of that. "What? You can't do that then leave!" You hiss and grasp your coat so you can follow him quickly.  He mutters something that sounds distinctly like "watch me" before he plunges out into the pouring rain with you hot on his heels. You sprint after his hazy figure that seems to always be fading into the distance. "Wait!" You call at his retreating back. He doesn't seem to hear you, and he continues running until you can't see him anymore.  "Shit." You mutter under your breath and pull your hood further over your head until only your nose peeks out from under it. Your breath makes intricate patters in the air before being sliced viciously by the violent rain. Walking down the path you stop when you see something in the distance, it looks like something lying on the pavement in the rain, like a dog or a bag of rubbish. You carry on at your own pace, only becoming concerned when you saw that the thing on the floor was a person. And not just any person. "Jack?" You shout, starting to run towards him. You crouch beside his crumpled body and hold your fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. You sigh in relief when you feel one. "Jack?" You shake him violently by the shoulders. "Wake up!" His breath hitches in his throat and he coughs, to your horror bringing up masses of blood. His eyes flicker open and you gasp, instead of being blue they're a dingy grey with black rims. "Jack? Are you okay?" You ask him, helping him stand. "Just fucking peachy." He replies, voice drenched in sarcasm. "Can you walk?"
"Let's find out." He takes a shaky step forward, which you match, he takes deep breaths; still only half awake as he sways his body weight onto you. "Oookay!" You huff under his weight. "We're going to camp at my place. Don't worry it's not far." You tell him. "In fact, I might get a taxi." You ring the local service and tell them where you are and soon a car trundles along with a rather disgruntled driver at the wheel. He motions for you to get in the car and you do, practically dragging Jack in after you. "What's his deal?" The driver asks. You panic slightly at this stranger talking to you. But you eventually stutter out, "Umm, to m-much to drink. He's irish." You add trying to be at least a little funny. The driver grins at your "joke" and asks you where you would like to go to. "(Y/h). Um, please." You reply hastily. The driver nods, and drives off with the rain beating down on the windscreen. On the short journey Jack managed to fall asleep, he looked exhausted with his hair plastered to his forehead and his thick eyebrows furrowed in his sleep.

At your house, you pay the driver and pull Jack up to your porch, propping him up against a wall while you fumble with your keys. When you pick him up again his eyes snap open again, restored to their former stunning blue. You grab his collar before he can run off and stuff him inside your house before shutting and locking it behind you. You whirl around to face Jack who looks lost and confused. "Where am I?" He asks, "I was running. From... from you!" He points accusingly at you. You sigh and throw him a towel to dry up with. "You were passed out on the pavement. I got us a taxi and bought us here."
"And here is?" He asks, unfazed by his apparent black out. "Here is my house." You reply. "Dry up. There should be some clothes in the spare room. Then meet me down here. We have to talk." You sternly tell him. He nods and bounces upstairs. Once he's gone you sigh and collapse onto the couch, with your head in your hands, wondering what you had got yourself into. Maybe Jack had some sort of duo personality or an alter ego issue. No, that wouldn't change his appearance. You barely hear him behind you as your brain tries to figure out what it saw. You swim back to reality as Jack lounges on one of the armchairs. "You owe me an explanation." Is all you say. He nods in response. "It will b easier if you ask me the questions." You furrow your brow, thinking. "How did you..."
"Okay let's get one thing crystal clear." He interrupts, almost angrily. "That, that thing that you saw. Was not me." He leans back and runs his hand through his messed hair, a habit of his you've noticed, "It may look and sound slightly like me. And it may even be a version of me. But that is not me." He confirms. "Wait a second. A version? Do you have a split personality disorder?" Jack chuckles and shakes his head. "I wish. Maybe the voices in the head would be easier to bear than this."
"And what is this?" You gesture in his general direction. Another sigh. "This is, sorry used to be, six people in one body, this is waking up at random places not knowing when the memories will come back. This is finding out one of you has murdered or slept with someone." He sounds broken. And your heart immediately goes out to him. You want to comfort him but not being very good at it, all you come out with is, "Would you like a coffee?" He nods slightly and you rush off to get him one. "It's black. I hope that's ok!" You say, before handing him his mug. He looks delighted and thanks you before chugging it quickly. "So do these five other things have names?" You ask. He shakes his head and holds up a finger to correct you. "I said, there used to be six. Now," he pauses and looks mournfully at you. "Now there are two and four puppets."
"P-puppets?" You stammer, suddenly afraid. You mind is flooded with questions. "What do you mean puppets?"
"One of them took over the others. It was like a pecking order. And he was unfortunately at the top."
"Who is he?"
"You mean what? I don't know what he is. But he does have a name."
"What is it?" You ask nervously. What strange name would he have? "Have you heard of Jacksepticeye?" Jack's voice breaks into your thoughts. "Huh? Um. I guess? I don't know. I used to have a friend who was obsessed with his channel. I've never actually watched his stuff." Jack nods.
"Okay, well he had, sorry has an alter. Since he's called Jack septic eye. His alter is called Antisepticeye. Or Anti for short." You fail to see what this has to do with anything. "Okayy. And so what has this got to do with anything?" You ask. Jack laughs.
"My alter. The only one remaining? Can you guess who he is?" Slowly but surely your mind fits together the pieces and you gasp. "No! So you're?"
"Yup. Fraid so." He smirks. "You look like you've seen a ghost." You grin back, about to say something sarcastic when a coughing fit wracks Jack's body, leaving him clutching his chest. He heaves up blood onto your carpet before his eyes begin to glaze over. "Don't trust him!" Is all he says. Before he slumps onto the floor in his own blood.