Whispers In The Dark
Author: ohhhkenneth
Pairing: Markson (GOT7)
Category: Romance/Angst
Length: 7.5k words
Rated: M for mentions of death, self-harm, suicide, and anxiety/panic attacks
Summary: After the death of his father, Jackson can't find it in him to smile anymore, much less leave his room. His days are a blur, filled with fighting, confusion, and loss.It's not until he meets Mark, a beautiful young man, that he realizes that being alone in the world doesn't always mean you have to be lonely.
"I'm not sure why he's acting like this as of late. I know, it's worrying me too. I just hope it's a phase and it'll pass. O.K, I'll let you know when we get there. Kiss grandma for me."
Jackson sat at the window in his living room, accidentally eavesdropping on his mother's conversation. It was Autumn, the leaves were frail and brown, the sky was a constant shade of gray, and the air outside was below freezing most of the time, even if there was no snow on the ground yet.
"Are you ready to go, Jackson? You promised you would come, remember." His mother said as she entered the room. She held her hand on her hip for a moment, waiting in vain for a reply from the boy.
Jackson closed his eyes and turned away, he sighed softly and stood up. "Fine." he mumbled as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.
His mother scoffed and turned away. She began berating him almost immediately as she made her way to the door.
"You know sometimes I don't know about you. When are you going to get your shit together, Jacks? God. I'm at least trying to get you to leave the house, a little enthusiasm wouldn't hurt. And you're so moody, I don't know why-"
Jackson's heart rate began to speed up, he felt his ears get hot with anger. With an aggressive eye roll he popped both of his headphones in, cranked the volume until it was almost deafening, and followed his mom reluctantly out the door.
Jackson was on a break from University - or at least, that's what his mom was telling all of her friends. She would make up glittery stories about how Jackson didn't know exactly what he wanted to major in, so he decided to do some travelling and see the world before he really committed to his academics. It was easier than admitting the truth, which was that the school more or less told him he was taking a break.
His marks were below average, his attendance was poor, and even when he was there, he wasn't actually there mentally. As soon as the teachers began to notice it, word got around and eventually Jackson received an email that was strongly and slyly worded, asking him to take a break from classes to grieve in a "healthy" way. The problem was, Jackson wasn't sure exactly what that looked like. Is there even a "healthy" way to deal with your father dying?
How do you accept that the one person you respect and admire most in the world - the one that protects you and guides you - is never going to come back? There was no other person in the world that Jackson wanted to impress more than his father.
When he was ten, Jackson's father brought him to the lake. It was the same one they had been going to for years. They usually went fishing, Jackson's father taught him everything there was to know about the animals, the trees, and about what not to do. He always made sure to keep Jackson safe as they fished from the dock.
The water was dark as night and ice cold to the touch, regardless of the sun's presence. Jackson's father would tell him ancient Chinese stories sometimes, about certain spirits that lived in the water, but not the kind that you marvel at in storybooks and in legends. They were spirits of people that died horrible deaths, whose time was cut short. They were the kind that were beautiful beyond belief, and beckon for you, luring you closer to the edge of the water, close enough so they can get a hold of you and have you join them in the darkness. When his father spoke of these myths, he always wore a deeply concerned look on his face, his smile would vanish, and he would lose himself in the tale, going deep into detail and cautioning Jackson about the dangers of the lake.
"Baba" Jackson would say, tugging on his dad's arm in order to snap him out of his focus. "You're scaring me."
"Good." his father would reply seriously. "That fear will keep you alive one day." And from that day on they stopped visiting the lake.
Jackson can always recall the last words he spoke to his father: don't be late. It was Jackson's high school graduation ceremony. He was valedictorian, and even up for a number of academic awards. He knew his father was going out to the lake that day with some colleagues, so he wanted to make sure to remind him of the time so that he had lots of notice. His father was never, ever late. So when the ceremony drew to a close, the night was shutting down, and he and his mom were waiting patiently for father's arrival still, he knew something was wrong.
Jackson's mother made up posters and stapled them to telephone poles, bulletin boards, and bus stops just like the frantic mothers in movies do. She cried every single day, and slept beside the phone for a week, waiting for word of her missing husband. When the phone call did finally come, Jackson didn't need to talk with his mom to know the outcome - the blood curdling scream from the kitchen downstairs was enough to drive the message home. Baba was gone, and there was nothing Jackson could do.
The coroner's office said it was an accident, and that he had a heart attack on the way home, then drove his car off of the bridge and into the lake. They said he died on impact, and suffered no drowning or trauma while he was still alive. Jackson locked himself in his room for three weeks, only communicating with his mother in the form of two or three word sentences about what was for dinner and to his mother's constant questions about "are you okay?" to which he would always reply, like clockwork, "Yeah."
But he wasn't fine, not even close. Unless fine is what you call night terrors, sleep paralysis, constant and unshakable anxiety, bouts of insomnia, and a sadness that is enveloping him day in and day out. Jackson wasn't completely surprised when he was asked to withdraw from the semester, the only surprising thing about it was that it took so long for people to notice. His mother was upset, like usual, that Jackson failed at yet another aspect of his life. She constantly blamed the young man for not applying himself more, she would say things like "What if your father were here to see you like this?" and "he would be so disappointed in you right now." Those always hurt Jackson the most. The only responses he could muster back were shrieks and cries about how "he's gone, and nothing is going to change that. How can he be disappointed if he's not even here." before he retreated to his bedroom again and slammed the door.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!"
A warm hand ripped out Jackson's headphones, interrupting his reverie.
"Look, you don't have to come in to the church but I'm not letting you sit in the car alone. At least go for a walk or something, I don't want people thinking you're a weirdo or something." His mother had one hand on the steering wheel and the other was smoking a cigarette, her fifth one of the day, ashing every once and a while out the window that was rolled down about one inch.
She never used to smoke - father liked that about her - her hair was always done, her makeup was impeccable, and she always looked like the beaming depiction of happiness. But somewhere in between her dead eyes, her stringy, messy hair, and her constant smoking, she lost herself. Jackson wondered sometimes if his mother ever took a second to examine herself before constantly attacking him. They were only half a foot apart, sitting in the car together, driving in silence, but Jackson felt miles away from her. Nothing was the same.
After driving forty minutes they arrived at a medium sized white church in the country side that looked like it was constructed in the 1800s. The paint was old and chipping away, there was a stone angel hanging above the entrance to the church and at the very top, Jackson was able to see a rusted bell that looked like it hadn't been hit in decades.
Jackson's mother coughed a few times and then discarded her butt into the ashtray before pulling the overhead mirror down to examine her makeup. She had dark eye circles, and Jackson couldn't help but think that she looked just as lifeless as the angel above the doorway of the church, but he said nothing. His mother fixed her hair a little, rubbed the lipstick off of her teeth, then checked her phone for the time.
"We're early." She said coldly. "Damnit. I wanted to be out of here as fast as possible. I knew I shouldn't've sped."
Jackson looked around outside into the small parking lot that was more or less a field, crowded with people parking their cars here and there, with no real order to it at all. There were kids, adults, elders, and Jackson wasn't able to recognize one person.
"Whose funeral is this again?" he said lowly, not diverting his attention away from the strangers filing passed the car and into the church. They all looked so somber and lost, wandering into the only open door in the area like zombies.
"An old co-worker of mine, back at the hospital." his mother replied, her tone seemed a little more friendly. "Her son died. He was the same age as you. It was really tragic."
Jackson didn't even know his mother had friends, much less that the friends had children his age. He just nodded and continued to look out the window.
"Look, I gotta go in there and show her that I'm here, otherwise I won't hear the end of it. Stay close, alright? Don't wander too far. It'll only be a couple hours, max." she said, slinging her purse frantically over her shoulder and exiting the old vehicle with a rigid slam.
"I'm not a child, mom." Jackson said to her as she walked away, knowing she probably wouldn't be able to hear him.
Jackson let out a breath of relief that he felt he was holding onto for the entire car ride. He hated being around people now, hated the pressure of needing to talk to people, answer questions, be polite, smile. It was exhausting. The best moments for Jackson were always the nights he was up at midnight in his room, reading old Stephen King novels or listening to music. He even looked forward to being alone, it was revitalizing for him. Part of him was grateful to his mother, that even though she forced him to come, she didn't try to get him to socialize with strangers he had never met.
Twenty minutes went by until Jackson felt a small buzz on his phone. It was his mom. Her texts were basic parent texts: super bland, very short, very direct, mostly commands, and to the point. All this one in particular said was "don't sit in car. get fresh air." Jackson slammed the phone back into his pocket and tossed his hood over his head, exiting the stale warmth of the vehicle and into the chilly evening air.
He examined the surroundings once more, behind the church about a kilometer away was a forest, it looked a little familiar to him, almost inviting, even though the trees were dense and dark. He figured that nobody would follow him into there, so he could remain certain that he was alone while he waited for this depressing funeral to be over.
When he approached the beginning of the forest, there was already a small area cleared away from the bushes, the ground was worn and looked as though it was a path. He clasped his cold hands together, blowing into them to warm them up. The sun wrestled with the gray clouds above, and in the distance Jackson swore he heard a hint of thunder. Without wasting any more time, he started down the path, unsure of where he was going, but wanting to get away from the noisy groups of people that were congregating in the parking lot behind him.
When he was about fifteen minutes in to the pale and wet forest, he saw what looked like a clearing up ahead. The trees looked to be more sparse as he approached it, and it wasn't long until he realized that it wasn't just any clearing, it was a lake.
Stunned, Jackson stood his ground, hovering between the edge of the forest and the lifeless, dark lake in front of him. The lake was big, but not so big that you couldn't see the other side. There was a dock to the left, up a half a mile, but no other trace of humanity in the area. It was the strangest feeling to Jackson - like he had been here before. The memories weren't completely there, but there were flickers, almost like a blur, that told him that this wasn't the first time he visited this lake.
Jackson continued to stand there, unable to make his mind up about what to do, or where to go. He knew that he could probably hide away from everyone by sitting on the dock alone, listening to music. But the deeply rooted fear of water was stopping him from taking another step forward. Ever since his father's death, water was never the same. And the water from this lake, in particular, as it rippled from the wind, almost dancing for Jackson, was something entirely different in itself. The water was dark, almost so dark you could call it black. There were no birds, no fish, no insects. It was almost as if they knew not to go near the water, too.
Just as he turned around and made a few steps back into the forest where he came, Jackson heard the unmistakable splash of water. Amidst the dull echoes of thunder in the distance, the breaking of water behind him was standing out more than anything. It was almost as if a kid was kicking his feet around in the lake.
Curious, Jackson turned back around, everything was the same, except now he was staring directly at a young man off in the distance that was sitting on the dock. The boy looked to be alone, there was nobody else around him. He was sitting quietly, his bare feet kicking gently every now and again. He didn't notice Jackson, which allowed Jackson time to get a closer look.
Hesitantly, Jackson slowly crept around the outside of the forest line, making his way down the marsh-like shore where the forest meets the lake. As he got closer to the decrepit wooden dock, he noticed that the boy had brown hair, a slim yet confident build, and very, very pale skin. He was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a large white long sleeve shirt that was a little wet. Around his neck was a silver anchor pendant that dangled down his chest. He couldn't be any older than his own age, Jackson thought to himself as he approached the dock.
The boy's shoes were off to the side, his socks crumpled up and stuffed into them neatly. Jackson wasn't sure what to do; before his father passed away he was somewhat of a joker, a class clown type of guy, someone that everyone counted on to be exciting and fun. But now, he bit his tongue every time he felt like saying something, and dreaded the thought of having to speak to anybody.
Still, there was a sort of sadness about the boy, even though Jackson couldn't see his face yet, he couldn't help but feel like maybe the boy was upset about something, or lost maybe. Jackson took a step onto the dock and instantly felt his weight shift the rickety wood a bit, making a slight creaking noise and offset the balance of the dock a bit.
"I thought I was alone out here." the boy said unenthusiastically, but not disappointed. He didn't turn around as he spoke.
"I thought I was the only one, too." Jackson replied just as blandly, his steps becoming slower now so that he didn't rock the dock any further.
The wind around Jackson picked up slightly, nipping away at his cheeks and hit fingers, reminding him how unforgiving the fall weather was in Canada. There was a reason everything in sight, the trees and even the water looked dead - because they were. Jackson wondered how the young man was able to dip his feet in the water and wear such a threadbare shirt, he must've been freezing.
"It's pretty cold, what are you doing out here all by yourself?" Jackson questioned down to the guy, standing a foot behind him now.
Jackson heard what he thought was a small chuckle under the whirling sound of the wind, like the boy was laughing.
"I could ask you the same thing, couldn't I?" He responded, turning his head up towards Jackson.
Jackson was eye to eye with the boy now, and was able to confirm that he was about the same age as himself. He had deep and mysterious brown eyes - they were intense, but trustworthy at the same time. Jackson stared into them and knew instantly that this guy was a good person.
"My name is Mark." The boy said, patting the empty spot next to him on the edge of the dock, clearly inviting Jackson to sit down.
The tips of Mark's light brown hair were wet, and the outer edges of his eyes, his lips, his nose and his ears were a slight pink color, a deep and somewhat beautiful contrast against his skin. Jackson took a seat next to him without a second thought, and for once he didn't feel his heart race pick up or his anxious mind act up at all.
"Um... why are you alone?" Jackson asked, his eyes still examining Mark. Every inch of the boy's skin was flawless, his arms, his face, and even the slits of skin on his legs that were exposed because of the rips were perfect, not a scratch or a blemish or a freckle.
"What's wrong with being alone?" Mark challenged, glancing over at Jackson again, who was still staring.
Jackson looked down at the water, wanting to focus on something other than Mark's impeccable skin, or his rosy, ice kissed cheeks.
"There's nothing wrong with being alone. Nothing at all. I mean, I'm alone too right?" Jackson's small talk was pretty basic, he still needed practice adjusting to the fact that he was around an actual person that wasn't his mother, and he couldn't just groan and roll his eyes at everything that was said.
"True." Mark answered, tapping the bottom of his left foot gently against the surface of the water. A moment of silence passed, the boys sat together no more than a foot apart as whatever remnants of sun that were out got tucked away by a massive grey cloud. It suddenly felt a lot more cold, but a little less lonely.
"Are you here for the funeral, too?" Mark quietly said, the tone in his voice made Jackson think that Mark probably knew the deceased.
"I guess so. Um, my mom brought me. She works with the mom of the person that died I think." Jackson spoke softly.
"Did you know him?" Mark pried a little more, "The kid who died I mean."
"No... I don't know anybody really, I just promised I'd come along. My mom forced me to come." Jackson felt a little out of place as he spoke, motioning toward the church that was hidden behind the forest behind them.
"Explains why you're out here and not at the church." Mark said, he didn't sound upset. It was relieving to Jackson to know he didn't offend the boy.
"Can I ask why you're out here too?" The initial trepidation that he felt before approaching Mark seemed to vanish just as quickly as it came.
"Funerals make me uncomfortable. I try to avoid most situations where I have to speak to strangers. Besides there's something refreshing about being alone." Every word Mark spoke resonated with Jackson, making him more curious about what kind of person Mark was.
"I hear you..." Jackson sighed, rubbing his hands on his thighs to warm them.
"You think you're cold... what about me?" Mark asked playfully, lifting his hand up until the back of his knuckles brushed lightly against Jackson's cheek.
Jackson felt a tingle where Mark's skin touched his face. It was the simplest gesture, but it was the first time someone other than his mother had touched him in the last year. It should have felt invasive and cold, but the tingle was now pulsing with a faint warmth.
"So, are you going to tell me your name or should I just make one up?" Mark bugged, a tiny smile shining through on his pink rosy lips.
"Jackson, my name's Jackson." is all Jackson could say in return, forgetting that he didn't mention that at the start of the conversation like a normal human being.
"Cool name, Jackson." Mark echoed back, the smirk still resting on his mouth as he ran a loose hand through his damp brown hair.
Mark wasn't like most people Jackson was used to, that's one thing he was certain of almost instantly. When meeting new people, Jackson would always get asked the same meticulous questions, almost like every single person on the planet was reading the same script: "Hi, what's your name? Are you a student? What are you studying? Where do you plan on working? What made you choose that program? How are you holding up?"
Mark didn't ask any of those questions. For the first time in a long time, Jackson could rest assured knowing that he wasn't up on display, or about to be interrogated because of his father's death or his trouble at school. And what was even more unbelievable is that Mark understood that loneliness wasn't always about being alone. There were times Jackson was in the middle of a crowded room, and felt as though he was completely and utterly alone. By the same token, he knew Mark understood the difference between being alone and being lonely.
"Not all who wander are lost."
Jackson's ears perked up when Mark finally spoke, he was getting lost in the comfortable silence they were sharing.
"I read it in a book once. What a nice quote." Mark hummed gently, his feet still swirling around the water.
"I like that." Jackson nodded in agreement. "I sounds like something people would tattoo on themselves."
"Do you have any tattoos?" Mark asked quickly.
"I wish." Jackson replied with a solemn head shake. "What about you?"
"Nah, but if I were to get one-"
Just then Mark lifted himself so that he was now standing above Jackson. He lifted his shirt just enough so that Jackson could see the entirety of his body from the front side. Mark's skin looked like untouched snow, it was perfect and now that he had a better view, Jackson realized just how toned Mark's body was. It was the kind of body that a swimmer had.
"Right here." Mark said, circling the side of his body, just below his ribcage. "This is where I would get a really awesome looking anchor tattooed."
Jackson's eyes were still enjoying the view that Mark so generously was offering. Jackson would be lying if he said that the only attraction he felt towards this boy was his personality. Although he felt like Mark was able to read his mind and understand his inner thoughts, he wasn't an idiot, Mark's beauty was in every single inch of him. His sharp cheekbones and fiercely pretty eyes, his timid but confident voice, his smooth yet strong body, and his chocolate hair were the only things Jackson could focus on.
"Think that would look cool?" Mark asked, sitting back down.
"Yeah it'd look sweet." Jackson took note that he was sitting much closer than before, he mustered up his most friendly smile and tried to sound as sincere as possible, "You must really love the water, hey?"
Before Mark could answer, there was a faint jingle in Jackson's pocket. He pulled his phone out quickly and realized his mom had texted him a couple times.
> almost ready 2 leave
> too depressing
> where r u
"Seems like someone is really trying to get a hold of you." Mark said with a lighthearted giggle, crossing his arms and shivering a little. "Mr. Popular."
"It's nothing, just my mom." Jackson assured him, tucking his phone into his jacket without responding. "Hey, do you want my jacket?"
Jackson began to remove his leather jacket before Mark even had time to respond. With a swift motion he was standing behind Mark, blanketing the jacket across Mark's back, wrapping around his shoulders. Mark laughed appreciatively, and as he moved to adjust the jacket, Jackson caught the sight of something he knew all too well on Mark's left wrist. There were five or six medium sized scars, too perfect to look like accidents, and just high enough to be hidden by most clothing.
Jackson's heart sank. He instinctively grabbed a hold of his own arm, rubbing gently over the few cuts that were still healing on his own body. He knew he wasn't the only one who had problems, but he would've never guessed that someone as chill and friendly as Mark would be going through the same struggles.
Even though he was quite emotionally numb during the moments he lashed out on himself physically, Jackson was sadly able to recount the exact feelings, or lack thereof that were going through his body at the time. It wasn't that he wanted to die, but he knew that he had hit the spot in his life where it didn't matter either way to him. One slash in the wrong place, one slash a little deeper than the others is all it would've taken, and even though Jackson wasn't openly trying to end his own life, the thought of it wasn't as daunting as it used to be.
Somewhere between the screaming fights with his mom, the crushing pain of his father's memory lingering on every single moment he was awake, Jackson had become so numb to everything, unable to continuously torture himself anymore, he became static. So when the people at school, his teachers, his peers, would whisper from the dark as he walked by, casting judgement on him and making their minds' up about the kind of things he was battling through, Jackson's own personal struggle was always within. He had reopened his wounds so much, both physically and mentally that he was almost unable to feel anymore.
Every cut, every slicing motion was like a fresh breath of air entering his lungs. Jackson would often choose the shower as his choice of setting to self-harm, the scalding hot water mixed with the fresh stinging of an open cut became something so, so comforting to him. The blood washed away instantly, leaving absolutely no trace of the acts, and after ward Jackson could go about his day with the unmistakable sting of his arm every time his clothing brushed against it.
But those were thoughts that were so personal to him - thoughts that he, in his naive mind, thought that only he was dealing with. He knew he shouldn't be doing it, and that it was wrong to put marks on his body that wouldn't heal completely, but he had made the decision that his body wasn't worth it anymore. His life wasn't worth it anymore, and maybe one day in the distant future the scars would be a subtle reminder that things have gotten better, or at least that was his hope.
But standing behind Mark, catching a glimpse of his perfect skin being vandalized by the scars was something Jackson almost wished he didn't see. It was like reading someone's personal diary, but now that he had seen it, it was impossible to forget. Mark's hair smelled like fresh rain, and even though his body was ice cold, his aura was something that Jackson received most of his warmth. There was an innate need to protect Mark, knowing what he knew now.
Jackson vowed in that moment that he wouldn't hurt himself anymore. Seeing Mark in all of his innocence, and his perfection, with the indelible marks on his body was enough for Jackson to realize just how he must've made his mom feel the first time she saw them.
"M-Mark?" Jackson hesitated as he sat down next to the boy who was now wearing his jacket.
"Hm?" Mark hummed sweetly, somehow managing to look even more adorable now that he was covered in Jackson's black leather jacket.
"What really brings you out here?"
The light in Mark's eyes faltered for a moment, and as his gaze shifted back out onto the open lake, Jackson felt as though he could almost see the depth to Mark. There was so much more inside Mark that he wasn't able to figure out just yet. But the look in his eyes, the cadence in his voice, and the marks on his skin hinted at something more heartbreaking, like little clues about him that Jackson wanted to gather completely.
"You know, it might sound crazy but I feel like there was a reason you came to this dock today." Mark sighed. "I feel like I can trust you so much. But I hardly even know you. Do you feel like you can trust me?"
Jackson leaned in as he spoke, his eyes captivated by Mark, "I've felt like that the moment I stepped onto this dock. There's something about you..."
Mark looked at Jackson with sincere smile, a soft glow in his eyes, and a devilishly cute grin on his lips. Jackson's face was now inching so close to Mark's he could feel the tame breath coming from the cold boy's mouth. His thoughts were fleeting and he didn't even care to finish his final sentence, his only goal being to capture this moment and imprint it into his mind and his heart forever, to taste Mark's soft lips and quell the unshakable appetite that was drawing him to Mark the second he locked eyes on him.
Mark's head didn't budge for a second, as he patiently waited with half lidded eyes for Jackson to make the final small gesture and press their lips together. The combination of Mark's crisp and icy lips together with Jackson's tepid, warm lips made the boys' kiss more intense. Jackson could feel the contact of Mark's lips hit the back of his neck and travel all the way down his spine, making him scoot closer to Mark in order to wrap a warm arm over the chilled boy.
Mark gave in to Jackson's domineering presence, allowing Jackson to hold his body firmly against his own. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but when it felt as though it was about to end, Jackson's unruly lust, mixed with his insatiable yearning to be connected with someone had him reaching forward again with his lips, practically begging for Mark to kiss him again.
Mark veered in slightly to make the kiss more comfortable, meeting Jackson's lips yet again, this time a little more deeply. It was as though neither of the boys knew what was happening. Neither of them questioned exactly the sort of connection they were making, but in the midst of the chilly wind, the dark clouds above, and the faint ringing of the church bell in the background, they had found a place where they could be alone, without being lonely.
Jackson was melting into Mark mouth, and was prepared to see how far his fulsome tongue could gently caress Mark's mouth until he was able to feel the boy's tongue on his own. Before he could go any further though, the same ring from his phone interrupted them, this time it was a call.
Before he answered, Jackson planted a swift apologetic kiss onto Mark's cheek, to which Mark rewarded him with his handsome smile that Jackson had been adoring the entire time.
"What, mom?" Jackson said, getting up and marching down the dock for a little privacy. He didn't want Mark to hear the screeching that his mother would no doubt have in store for him.
"Where the hell are you? The service ended almost an hour ago, and why aren't you answering my texts?"
Confused, Jackson looked at his phone again. Nearly four hours had gone by. There were 9 text messages and two calls from his mom unanswered.
"Agh, I guess I must've lost track of time." Jackson mumbled through his words, confused about how much time had passed.
"Yeah you're losing your mind. That's what you're losing. And you're about to lose your only ride home too, get your ass back here now. I mean it!"
"Yeah fine I'll be back in a minute, just don't leave."
Jackson rolled his eyes, leave it up to his mom to be the one to ruin what was a perfect moment, one of the most perfect in a very long time. He hung the phone up and slid it into his back pocket, scratching his head as he made his way back to Mark who was waiting at the end of the dock.
"You have to go, I know." Mark said before Jackson could get a word in. "You better go, your mom sounds mad."
Jackson's cheeks flared, his mom was a non-stop source of agony for him, even when she wasn't around.
"She's sort of crazy. I'm sorry." Jackson said, kneeling down to place an arm on Mark's shoulder. "C'mon, let's go. I'll walk you back to the church."
Mark stood up and handed Jackson his jacket back, he thanked Jackson for letting him wear it, but sat back down and continued to dip his feet back into the water.
"So you're just gonna sit here some more?" Jackson said, confused. He looked up to the sky, it was staring to get pretty dark now.
"Yeah, I like the water. I told you. It makes me feel safe." Mark replied confidently.
"Okay... but won't your parents be bugging you soon too? Your family?" Jackson wondered with a laugh.
"Eh, I'm not too worried about that. They know where to find me if they need me." Mark didn't seem bothered at all by the cold now, he actually seemed quite calm now. His angelic beauty glowed even more now that what little light was in the sky was now fading.
"Can I see you again?" Jackson asked, almost afraid to bring up what just happened, nervous about what the answer might be.
"You can see me right now, if you want." Mark said, almost hopeful. "We can run away together, if you want. Nobody will ever be able to find us."
Jackson giggled, "You're crazy. I mean honestly, I really like you, Mark. And I feel like you like me too, and that's something that I haven't felt in a really long time."
"Of course I like you, Jackson." Mark replied with a light head shake.
"Then give me your phone number. Here, I'll put mine in your phone." Jackson offered, holding his hand out for Mark's cellphone.
Mark looked at Jackson like a small dog that was unsure of what his master just said to him.
"I don't have a cellphone. I don't like how much they distract people." Mark breathed, "All I need is this right here."
He motioned out to the open lake and the immense forest that surrounded it. Jackson couldn't hide the disappointment on his face by hearing that he couldn't get Mark's phone number.
"So... how am I supposed to get a hold of you then?" Jackson's hope was fading as he asked.
Just then another text rang in on Jackson's phone.
> leaving in 2 mins
> with or without u
Jackson was torn, and the look on his face was telling of it, too. He would lean in for another kiss goodbye if he didn't already feel so needy. It's just that he had found someone that he felt alive with for the first time since his father died.
"God, I have to go. Ugh, I don't know what to say right now. I'm so happy I got to meet you, even though all we did was sit here and talk for hours on a dock. I've never felt so... alive, in such a long time." Jackson explained, as he inched away from Mark, clearly distraught and not wanting to leave.
"Believe me, Jackson. You're the one that made me feel alive. I'm excited knowing that we will be meeting again." Mark responded warmly, "Now, get out of here before your mom leaves."
Jackson wore his heart on his sleeve, visibly hurt that he had to leave Mark alone on the dock.
"Here, have this." Mark said promptly, removing the silver anchor amulet from his neck and presenting it to Jackson which Jackson gladly accepted, "Now get out of here!"
"Mark, how will I know how to contact you?" Jackson shouted once he was near the end of the dock.
Mark stood up smiling and waved, "Don't worry, I'll do my best to find a way."
Jackson's heart beat picked up, but this time it wasn't from anxiety, depression, or shame. It was because he had made a friend, someone that inspired him, and taught him that even when you feel like you can't feel anymore happiness, you shouldn't stop looking for it, or at least being open to it finding you.
Jackson raced back through the trees, the forest seemed to be a whole lot darker and denser now that the sun was finally completely gone. He almost lost his footing once or twice, but eventually made it out to the clearing, the white church was off in the distance, car headlights flashing now and again as people pulled out of the parking lot.
Up ahead he noticed his mother's car, and the distinct cherry red glow of her cigarette through the darkness coming from the driver's seat. Relieved that she didn't leave him yet, he sprinted toward the parking lot. Upon arrival, he accidentally tripped and landed next to a young teenager, nearly knocking the boy to the ground.
"Holy crap, watch where you're going." the kid yelled violently at Jackson, dusting his dress pants off.
"Sorry." Jackson apologized, picking himself off the dirty ground, scrambling to retrieve the necklace Mark gave him as well as his cellphone that he accidentally dropped.
"Hey, where did you get that?" the kid yelled, pointing at the necklace.
Jackson's mother honked the horn four times just then, startling both of the boys, and Jackson swore he could hear her yelling all the way from inside the car.
"Ugh" Jackson groaned, "I gotta go." As he turned to leave, the young man latched onto Jackson's arm and attempted to rip the necklace from his hands. Jackson, being the much larger person, easily pushed the boy away, this time the boy landed on the ground with a thud.
"Lay off, kid!" Jackson shouted, glaring at the boy.
As Jackson sprinted towards the car, he heard the cries of the young man behind him shouting obscenities and curses his way.
Jackson sat in the passenger's seat and slammed the door behind him. The smell of smoke engulfed his lungs immediately, and he wished for a moment in time that he was back on the dock with Mark, breathing in fresh air without feeling as though his entire life was suffocating.
"What the hell did you do to Joey?" Jackson's mother said, pointing her finger at the boy Jackson had just knocked over, except the crying boy was now with an older woman and was now pointing directly at Jackson.
"I swear to god Jackson." his mother began, taking a quick drag of her smoke before putting it out. "Did you really need to start a fight here of all places? Have some fucking respect."
"It's not even my fault, he tried to steal my necklace." Jackson retorted angrily, "Little shit is lucky I didn't beat him up."
"What necklace-" Jackson's mother furrowed her brow before her eyes got wide, "Where did you get that?!"
"Huh?" Jackson was puzzled as he watched Joey and his mom make their way to the car.
"What's wrong Dorine?" Jackson's mother said rolling her window down as the pair approached.
"Joey says your son stole a necklace from him." the woman said, clearly distressed and angry.
Jackson's mom turned her head and shot a look of disgust his way that Jackson was sure he hadn't seen in years.
"Of all the things you could've done..." she whispered to him under her breath as she grabbed the necklace from his hands in an attempt to return it.
"What are you doing?!" Jackson clamored, reacting by grabbing the necklace out of her hand in return. "Mark gave that to me!"
"What?" Jackson's mother said in shock, "You said you didn't know anyone at the funeral."
"I don't! I just met him today." Jackson explained, his frustration bubbling.
"Oh Dorine I am so, so sorry for all of this. You must be devastated, I'm sorry my son is acting this way. He hasn't been himself since his father... you know... We're going to look into getting him help, though. I assure you." Jackson's mother apologized over and over, taking the necklace back and handing it directly to the crying, hysterical woman.
After apologizing for the fourteenth time, Jackson's mother rolled her window up and nearly burned the rubber on her tires peeling out of the parking lot.
"What the fuck mom, that wasn't cool." Jackson rumbled, leaning his head against the window as they drove home.
"Jackson Wang you've really done it now. This is the final straw. As soon as I can I'm getting you in to see someone." his mother declared sternly with a certain frenzied look in her eyes.
"Mom... what are you talking about?" Jackson's frustration was into full blown confusion now. He pulled his hood over his head and readjusted himself in his seat to get more comfortable. "Will you please just tell me what's going on?"
"You're the one that has some explaining to do, Jackson." she said, driving with one arm and digging through her purse for another cigarette with the other.
"That necklace was a gift from a friend. It wasn't yours to give away." Jackson stated gruffly.
"And who gave you this necklace, huh?" his mother challenged sarcastically, her anger never waning once.
"I already told you, my friend Mark." Jackson said as he turned his back to look back out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the lake water from there. "I wish I was with Mark right now to be honest." he whispered under his breath.
Jackson's mother hit the brakes in a jolt that sent both of them lunging forward in their seats, nearly strangled by the seat belts. She turned to him and let a swift slap connect across his cheek, terrifying Jackson more than hurting him.
"What the fuck?!" the boy cried out, his hand on his cheek that was now buzzing and tingling.
"Don't ever say something like that." his mother shouted back, her eyes looking as though they were about to burst out of their sockets. "Now, I don't know where you stole that necklace from but lying about it in front of a grieving mother is absolutely unacceptable and downright evil. That necklace belonged to Dorine's son, Mark. He died a few days ago, he was the same age as you. He drown himself in the lake by tying an old fishing boat anchor to his leg."
Jackson felt himself get winded upon hearing this, his head becoming almost too heavy for his neck to support. He leaned back in his chair, unable to speak or to even think.
"According to Dorine, Mark was depressed for a very long time and seldom talked about his problems. He was an talented swimmer though, and found himself in the water all the time. Guess that's why he chose the lake." his mother explained, "It was his funeral today. Poor thing, they had an open casket and everything. It's such a shame, he was so handsome. I'm sure you two would've gotten along, he reminded me so much of you, Jackson."
Jackson didn't speak another word the entire ride home.
The End.