Attention - Septiplier

Descending down the staircase, a ridiculously sparkly green shirt catches Mark’s attention. His eyes darting like arrows, he moves his head to accommodate the view. Instantly, he’s hit with recognition. 

Suddenly, no one else around him matters. Pale skin draws him in and he feels himself rising from his chair, lured towards the figure who now wears a smirk as if it was some kind of cheeky pair of underwear. It’s a matter of seconds before Mark stands in front of him, with the loud music and flashing lights of the club blocking everything else out.

It’s Sean McLoughlin.

“I thought the shirt might be too much. What do you think?” he asks and Mark almost chokes on his breath as the memory of this man’s voice is rejuvenated like a pen refilled with ink. His accent is fading from his new LA life, but it’s still hidden there underneath. Mark can’t help but find himself missing it.

“I think it’s fine. You don’t stand out anymore than anyone else in here,” Mark replies, his voice strained to made himself heard over the surrounding din. He has to forcibly stop his hands from running up Sean’s sides. Intent on distracting himself, he looks up to a pair of dark blue eyes.

“How are you anyway, Sean?” he asks, trying to see if Sean really will stay with him tonight.

“It’s Jack now. And I’m fine thank you, gorgeous actually,” he replies smoothly.

“What are you doing here Jack?”

At the question, Jack rewards him with a small chuckle, his head shaking in disbelief.

“You ask that every time. I’m here for you,”

With that, Jack steps forwards and his hands move mindlessly: one to Mark’s hip and the other in his hair, almost as if he owned them. Closing his eyes, Mark surrenders to Jack’s grasp and nearly smiles as Jack’s lips meet with his.

Mark loves the way that Jack kisses him. To him, it’s unique and the moment makes him realises how much he’s missed it, craved it. With soft tugs at his locks and a tongue licking gently at his lips, he feels himself falling again.

It’s not too long before Jack drags him off to a quieter corner of the club, a pocket area behind a stage that’s deserted. For the brief moment that Jack isn’t assaulting him with kisses or light touches, Mark’s head screams at him that this is a terrible idea. If Mark was honest with himself, he agreed completely that doing anything with Jack was a bad idea, and yet…

He still did it anyway.

Jack is wearing the shirt Mark got him for an anniversary on purpose. Jack is being in charge like he knows Mark likes for a reason. Jack also somehow managed to find Mark despite being unreachable for months.

But that can be thought about later. Right now, Mark is too busy trying not to get too aroused in public to think about other things. 

Mark surprises himself when he doesn’t find himself getting worried as Jack’s fingertips teasingly brush against his inner thighs despite the possibility of being walked in on at any given moment.

“God I’ve missed this,” Jack mutters, his eyes clearly clouded over with ardour and lust. 

Resting against the wall with his head lolled back, Mark finds his breaths too heavy to reply.

Then why do you always leave?

It’s just messing about, Mark knows it is. Jack won’t come home with him no matter how much he begs. His hands slip under Jack’s glittery shirt and closing his eyes, he tries to enjoy this brief moment whilst he has it.

It’s all over too quickly. With a longing look and one last peck on the cheek, Jack leaves him feeling dismantled behind the stage abruptly. It only takes Jack to leave his line of sight for the regret to wash over him like an ice bucket over his head.

“I’m sorry Robyn, I can’t. It’s not fair on you. Especially when I’m not over someone else,”

The phone call is painful, Mark cringing at his own words at the thought that he messed around yet another date. He’d tried to get over Jack, really had, and putting himself out there was the first step. Yet somehow, Jack managed to pop up whenever he needed to, reeling him back in.

“You let him do it again, didn’t you?” a voice asks from behind him. Sighing, he crumbles slightly and throwing his phone to the side he puts his head in his hands.

“Mark, why?” Tyler asks him, sitting beside him on the bed and wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“He- he just walked in – wearing the fucking green shirt I bought him last year – and I don’t fucking know Tyler he just- has this power over me. Like he just has to look at me and I can feel myself falling for him all over again.

“And I know that he doesn’t really want me- doesn’t want to keep me. He just appears because he knows that it just makes me remember what it’s like, how good he feels and makes me feel.” Mark says, feeling stupid tears prickling at his eyes.

“I think you’re right that he’s just messing you around. But at the same time I think there’s a reason he keeps bothering you. Maybe he just hates the thought of you with someone else,”

Mark nods into Tyler’s shoulder, sighing. “What am I supposed to do? I knew he didn’t want me like that last night, I knew it and yet I still did it anyway. I can’t stay away from him, I do that anyway and yet he still manages to find me.” Mark wonders out loud.

“What am I meant to do?”