Damaged (Markiplier X Reader)

Four Roommates

Let's just say there is a reason people don't sleep on the floor.

Waking up the morning after a traumatic incident you either find the initial shock has worn off, or you feel that your back has shattered into a million pieces because of your poor choice of location for sleep. In my case, it was both.

I was still beyond confused about the events from the night before, but I was more curious to find out what was going on with Mark than I was scared.

But before I did, I needed to shower. Sweat from the night previous had soaked my clothes and made me smell like a thirteen year old boy who hadn't discovered deodorant yet. I grabbed fresh clothes from my dresser, wishing I didn't have to go downstairs to shower so I could avoid Mark for as long as possible. But that wasn't going to happen because Mark was waiting right outside my door when I opened it. He sat with his back against the opposite wall, his arms folded over his raised knees and his face resting against his legs.

His head shot up the second I opened the door. He looked awful, his bloodshot eyes held dark circles underneath them like he hadn't slept in days; his hair was tousled from its usual messy perfection. Did he stay out here all night??

Slowly, he raised to his feet, facing me with a million different expressions written across his face. The tension between us could be cut with a knife.

"(Y/n) I-"

He began, but I raised my hand to cut him off.

"Before you say anything, I need to know something."

Eyebrows furrowed, he awaited my question with his undivided attention on me. I scanned his features for one more attempt at clarity before asking,

"Are...are you Mark?"

A mixture of fear and relief spread across his face. He tried to take a step towards me, but I instinctively took one back, making him stop in his tracks and raise his hands defensively. It was times like this when I wished I could read minds. I would be able to see what was swirling behind those perfect, brown eyes.

"Yes, (Y/n), it's me. I promise," he spread his arms as if to show me all of him, so I could know it really way him, "please, let me explain."

I wasn't sure if I totally believed him, especially after last night, but even so, I really wanted to know what was going on. Something was clearly wrong with Mark and if I could do anything to help, I absolutely wanted to. Mark was my friend and I wanted to be there for him. But first, I desperately needed to shower.

"Mark, I will let you explain," his shoulders slumped in relief, "but I need to clean myself up first."

His eyes fell to the pile of clothes in my arms then fell to the floor, most likely in disappointment.

"Yes, of course," he moved out of my way, his eyes staying glued to the floor, "I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

With that, he disappeared down the stairs to wait anxiously for my arrival.

Sighing, I followed suit to the bathroom, absolutely ready to feel physically clean again.

~~~

(H/l), wet hair still dripping a bit, I disposed of my dirty clothes in my room before retreating back downstairs. I took several deep breaths before stepping into the kitchen and facing him once again.

He sat at the counter, memorizing the detail of the granite, before noticing my arrival. He gestured for me to sit across from him on the other barstool; I did as directed, not taking my eyes off his for any sign of sudden change in his behavior.

For a few moments, we both said nothing, just staring at each other to see who would make the first move.

"So," he broke the silence between us, revealing my of that responsibility, "you met Dark."

He said that as if I was suppose to know who that was, but my brain made the connection of the mysterious man who had taken over Mark's body. Dark, huh? How fitting.

"I guess so."

He nodded, knowingly. I guess he figured as much. Silence fell over us both once again. My turn, I guess.

"What's going on Mark? What happened last night?"

His fists clenched, his eyes becoming fascinated with the countertop once again. I reached out to him, placing my hand on top of his tense ones.

"You can tell me, Mark."

He glanced up to me again, taking a deep breath and sitting up straight. He was ready.

"It all started when I was twelve,"

He told me the whole story from past to present. When he was twelve, he started to get very anxious. His parents and everyone else told him anxiety was normal and that it would get better, but it never did. The anxiety turned into mood swings and feeling detached from himself.

Again, everyone just assumed puberty, but he began to black out at times, waking up in places he didn't remember going. Eventually, another set of thoughts entered his mind, ones completely separate from his own. Another form, another brain almost, and it had a name: Dark.

He was the first, and Mark kept him well hidden, gaining control with age of what he called "the light". Mark described the light as who is in control of the body. For several years it was just him and Dark, but then, others came.

The next one came when Mark was sixteen, Wilford. He was quite eccentric and, as Mark described, "a few quarters short of a buck". His perky yet dark attitude left a lot of unanswered questions for Mark at that age. Since then... he still didn't fully understand Wilford.

And finally, when Mark was eighteen, the most recent personality came to the light. He didn't have a name, but because of his extreme intelligence, fast calculating brain, and lack of social skills, Mark called him Google. He was the least active of all the personalities, he did not like the company of others.

Mark had lived with them for years and although they did not always get along, they were part of him. And they were there to stay.

When I moved in with Mark, I didn't get one roommate, I got four; all inside the same smoking hot body.