Phone Calls ? Septiplier

"Don't be scared."

Jack shook his head furiously, wiping his tears away with the side of his hand. "You can't do this... You don't understand. He's fucking insane."

Mark turned the radio dial carefully, silencing the music that had been playing. "I'm not scared of him. You need someone to stand up for you, and if that person has to be me, then so be it."

"What if you get hurt?! It's going to be my fault! Just drop me off and go back to your place, please!" Jack pleaded, blinking away more tears that were threatening to fall.

He was willing to give up his potential freedom if it meant Mark would be unharmed, but his new friend wasn't allowing that to happen.

Obviously, Mark was determined.

"We're already here. Just walk up to the door and knock, and I'll try to talk to him while you get your things together, okay?" Mark suggested, turning the vehicle off once they were parked in the family's driveway.

Jack inhaled a deep, reluctant breath, and stared at Mark with a fearful facial expression. "What am I supposed to do if you do get hurt?"

"I won't get hurt."

The boys exited the vehicle together, and closed their doors as softly and as quietly as possible.

Mark tilted his head down, checking the time on his watch. "Let's get this over with."

Jack started to walk up the creaky steps leading onto the patio, and turned to face the redhead once again. "I'm seriously thinking about backing out... It's not worth it..."

"I won't let anyone hurt you. They'll have to come through me first." Mark insisted, placing a supportive hand upon Jack's shoulder. "Just knock."

Jack's fist trembled as he tapped it against the door a few times.

The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hallway was all too familiar...

It was horrifying.

Jack started to physically shake and hyperventilate, and his eyes were already watering.

Could he and Mark actually stand up to his "father"?

No.

The door was slammed open roughly, revealing a drunk James gripping a large, empty vodka bottle.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" He growled out loudly, reaching for Jack aggressively with both hands.

Mark shoved Jack behind him protectively before James could actually get a grip on him. "Your son is coming home with me. We can do this the easy way, without me calling the cops and your family allowing Jack to pack his stuff up in peace, or, you could lay a hand on me, or him, and the police will be called and you'll be in jail for child abuse and assault."

James had a look of surprise and denial stuck upon his matured face.

Yet, he still managed to send a sinister smile towards his foster child. "Oh, so you're a little faggot now?"

Jack frowned out of both aggravation and slight disgust upon hearing the nasty remarks, and he remained still in his position behind Mark, where he felt safe.

"You've been out every night letting this guy fuck you? Is that why you've been coming home late?" James slurred, pointing his index finger towards Mark. Then, the elder male laughed uncontrollably as he studied the duo for a minute or so. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Homophobic slurs really aren't necessary, sir. We're just friends. Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll be packing up." Mark spat out sarcastically, attempting to shove past the larger man.