Author's Note: I have nothing really to say today, other than a request that if you're reading and you like what you see, please shoot a vote in my direction! :D
Chapter 3: Blackout
They didn't talk much, after that.
Scratch that. They didn't talk at all, after that.
Scott made excuses when Shawn would join Mark and Mason for nights out. Once his tour had begun, it was like the man never existed.
Mark's eyes narrowed as he watched Shawn dance with a tall, muscular man with greasy hair, one night.
Scott was in Atlanta. Or was it St. Louis? Mark couldn't keep track. But he wasn't here, that was certain.
"What's up your ass?" Mason asked, plopping down on a barstool next to him.
"Nothing. Why?"
"You're looking at Shawn like he's the scum of the earth."
"Well, if I were dancing like that with someone else, how would you feel?"
Mason searched Mark's face for a moment. "You aren't dating Shawn, so I struggle to find the point of this."
His tone was condescending.
"Scott shouldn't have to worry about that. That's all I mean."
Mason laughed. "Scott is a big boy. He can handle it. Shawn said Scott's probably out every night as well, taking his pick of any guy he wants. Scott's no angel, love. Shawn met him for a reason. He's actually quite the slut, from what I've heard."
There was an edge of laughter in Mason's voice that made Mark want to slap him.
But there was a pit in Mark's stomach, too, and he couldn't place why that was. It almost felt like jealousy... or was it longing?
"When he gets back, I'll bet you anything we can convince him to sleep with us. Let's make a bet."
Mark stared at Mason, unblinking. He recalled the night they met the blond, and how he had made a similar remark. "I don't want to have a threesome."
Mason laughed. "We wouldn't actually do it. We would only ask, and see if he agreed. To prove my point that you're worrying about that cockslut over nothing."
There was an awkward silence as they watched Shawn continue to dance, all while Mark refrained from screaming at Mason for describing Scott as anything other than wonderful.
"But if he said yes... you really wouldn't want to... you know... just for the night?" Mason asked.
Mark didn't miss the hopeful tone, and he wondered why he was still here, at all.
One month later, Mark was sick of watching Shawn with his tongue down yet another man's throat.
Shawn and Scott aren't together, they aren't together, they aren't together.
Mark closed his eyes to rid himself of the view. He took a shot, hoping to numb the strange sensation he was feeling: a mixture of missing Scott, hating Scott, and hating Shawn more than anything.
A vibration broke him from his mantra. He eyed Shawn's phone on the bar, where he had abandoned it, only half-asking and half-demanding that Mark keep an eye on it.
Scott's smiling face illuminated the screen.
God, that face was beautiful.
It wasn't like Mark hadn't seen it in a while. He was spending most of his time watching old Pentatonix and Superfruit videos, these days. If Mason knew...
