(Mark's POV)

After I drank my water, I quickly grabbed my phone and texted Jack to make sure he was still alive, even though chances were he was probably either sleeping, or he just wouldn't answer me.

As expected, no answer. I took a deep breath. "Jack is still alive... No need to worry... It was only a dream..."

(Jack's POV)

"3... 2... 1..." I pant. I take a deep breath, I grip the box cutter harder, then, Brad walks through the door.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"N-nothing!" I reply, hiding the box cutter behind my back.

"That didn't look like nothing..." He says putting the bags on the kitchen table.

I quickly put the box cutter back in it's place, the silverware drawer, and walk away like nothing happened.

"Jack, it's 2:00 AM. You should really be getting to bed." Brad sighs.

"Brad... I'm an adult if you couldn't tell... J can stay up as late as I want... I think I can take care of myself..." I say trying to stand up for myself.

"Jack, do you want that box cutter in your throat?" Brad asks like it was a casual question.

I shake my head and storm off to my bedroom and lock the door.

I plop myself down on the bed and sigh, and stare at the floor. "I would have preferred if Brad didn't come home at that moment..." I mumble.

(Mark's POV)

I can't sleep.

I fear that I I close my eyes once again, I'll have another dream, only worse. Or maybe the same dream. What could be worse than losing your best friend to suicide?

I fear that Jack might text me... And I won't be there to answer and help him because I'm sleeping.

I fear that he might call me, and I'll be asleep.

I fear that I won't be there for him. Even though I really want to help him... So badly.

I fear that I might lose him.

I fear that what happened in my dream, will become real.