Jackson

On our way back to the studio, Mark was quiet. Even more so than usual, and knowing what could go through his mind, it was unsettling. He wasn’t really smiling either, apart from his polite fake smile that he would sometimes give to one of the other members when they said something to him. I was sitting next to him, and lightly squeezed his hand for him to look at me. 

“You okay?” I mouthed so the others wouldn’t hear and get worried. He smiled at me politely, even wrinkling the corners of his eyes to make it seem more genuine, and nodded. I appreciated his efforts to not make me feel worried about him, but it scared me a little bit. I felt like I needed to know every single thought in his mind to make sure he was really okay. 

Mark

I just couldn’t feel anything. The only thing I could consciously feel was Jackson’s hand holding mine, and his thumb lightly rubbing the back of my hand. I felt empty. We had loads of fun at the fan meeting, even more so while I teased Jackson, but something inside me held me back from enjoying and feeling it fully. It made me feel like and I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I just felt empty. 

I felt guilty towards the fans, as they had come all the way to greet us and cheer us on, and I had wanted to fully absorb their positive energy and love. Even though I had done my best for them during the meeting, I somehow felt like I hadn’t even been there. It felt ungrateful. I started to wonder if I had felt this way during the meeting already or only now afterwards. I honestly couldn’t remember. ing hell, Mark. Just why, why did I have to be like this? Why couldn’t I just enjoy things and feel things to their fullest? I sure as hell was good at it while I was sad, then why not when I was happy? Was I just not capable of that anymore?

I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I just leaned back against the car seat and closed my eyes. Jackson shifted slightly beside me and leaned his head against my shoulder. Feeling like I had to somehow be there for him, not letting him feel worried about me, I leaned back into him, letting my head rest on his. His hair tickled my ear a little, but at least this felt closer to something real. 

Jackson

The feeling of uneasiness crept its way all over my body. Everyone was cheerful, except Mark. Everyone was talking loudly, except Mark. Everyone was laughing, except Mark. Everyone was happy, except Mark. Well, except me too, I suppose. I was worried about him. I knew how his mood could change drastically from one second to the other, but I had just really hoped he would feel buzzed from meeting the fans, at least for a little while. 

The thought that Mark could be depressed crossed my mind. Of course, it would seem pretty obvious from what had happened just a few days ago, but that could’ve been a matter of feeling too much pressure all at once without being really able to rest. I knew how Mark worked hard to make everything perfect, and I knew he was still a bit insecure about his Korean, and he would sometimes spend nights rehearsing his rap parts and perfecting his pronunciation while listening to the demos. 

But today, the fan meeting, it should’ve been something to cheer us up. Meeting fans doesn’t feel like work, but rather as a fun vacation, where we would feel energised and happy afterwards. However Mark didn’t seem to feel that way, and it worried me deeply. All the things that had happened before during the last few days, every time Mark had felt sad, it was triggered by something. 

When he had tried to jump, he had probably felt exhausted, sad, and completely done with life, and when he had those panic attacks I had thought it was because he felt too pressured and couldn’t let go of that feeling. Maybe it had also been some type of aftermath of his attempt. But if even days like today couldn’t bring back that light in him, that part of him that wanted to be on stage and perform, that part of him that just loved to be an artist, something was definitely very wrong.

I had hoped that he didn’t really mean to jump, that it was a thought that came to him in the moment, when he was feeling tired, and just done, and feeling all the pressure that was put on him. But the more I actually thought about it, the more I was sure that there was much more to it. I took a mental note to bring up the possibility of getting professional help to Mark later. It wasn’t exactly an in-the-car-and-in-front-of-everyone conversation.

Mark

It didn’t take much longer to get to the studio, and once we were all inside, we sat down on the floor of the practise room, and were ready to read our fan letters. We hadn’t been able to read them during the meeting as we were on a time schedule, but since we wanted to read them nonetheless, we decided to do so afterwards. I suddenly remembered one really shy girl giving me a letter, which was hand written, two pages long. I quickly spotted it from the pile in front of us, since she had drawn beautifully detailed flowers on it, and grabbed it to read. 

In the letter, she talked about how our music had helped her through some dark times, and how the members inspired her to do what she loved. Thanks to us, she had pursued her dream of becoming an illustrator, and she told me she was able to successfully sell her artwork at a small but cute shop near her house. 

With me being her ultimate bias, she told me that being able to see me smile would make her days brighter. She hoped I was taking good care of myself, and that I was happy, so she could keep seeing me smile. On the back of the second page, she drew a portrait of me, smiling brightly, and added a phrase next to it, saying Like this! I hope you can smile like this every day!.

When I read that, smiling was the last thing on my mind. I could feel the tears burning from behind my eyes and I quickly got up, and sprinted to the bathroom without looking back. Once I was in the bathroom I locked myself in one of the stalls and started crying heavily. I hadn’t even realised that something as simple as ‘smiling’ or ‘being happy’ was such a difficult and painful subject for me. What the was ing wrong with me?

Suddenly there was a noise at the door of the bathroom, and I held my breath, forcing myself to stop crying and making any noise. I pulled my legs up and made myself completely invisible, not wanting anyone to find me in this state. I heard footsteps, walking slowly, and then “Mark? Are you here?” Carefully sounded though the room. Jackson. The tears continued streaming down my face, and I got up and opened the door of the toilet stall. Jackson’s eyes immediately found mine and he quickly came up to me and wrapped his arms tightly around me in a comforting hug. “It’s okay, I’m here” he said softly, and lightly pressed his lips against my cheek. I sighed and let my weight lean against him. I honestly don’t know how I’d survive without him. Quite literally. 

Jackson

I hated this feeling. This feeling of not being able to do anything for him. This feeling of seeing him so sad and not being able to help him. I wasn’t sure what had caused him to suddenly run out of the practise room, leaving the others looking confused, but I knew something was wrong, and I immediately went after him. Seeing him like this, I was somehow glad it was me that found him. Even if I couldn’t do anything significant for Mark, at least I could do my best to comfort him. And something told me that he was glad it was me, too.