Mark stood, eyes wide.
"What are you doing?" He asked in a whisper. His gaze never left Sean's frightened topaz eyes.
"Nice to see you too, Mawk," Aaron said in his thick accent.
"Aaron Ash, what in the he-" Aaron slapped Mark across the cheek. His hand print was left on his skin, red and menacing.
"You don't get to call me by that! I'm Yami to you; we're not friends anymore!" Aaron screamed. His chocolate eyes hardened to charcoal.
Mark touched his fingertips to his cheek lightly. The stinging was still there, but his anger pushed the pain away.
He stood, bundling his fists.
"Bronco, Markus!" Aaron yelled. From outside, two burly men walked inside the house. They stood on either side of Aaron; each stood at least six feet five.
"Oh, are these your groupies?" Sean sneered from behind them. The one called Bronco moved over, placing his hands on Sean's shoulders.
"Don't push boss, mate. I'll squash ye like a bug in no time flat," he boasted, an Irish accent prominent in his words.
"Awh, mate! You can't go against another Irishman! Motherland céanna , fuil céanna!" ("Same motherland, same blood!) Sean yelled. His thick accent returned to him all at once, and it took Mark and Yami both a second to understand that he was, in fact, speaking a language.
"Caithfidh mé a dhéanamh cad tá mé a dúirt . Tá mé ag á payed ." ("I must do what boss says. I'm being payed.") Bronco whispered. Sean stared up at him, while Mark and Aaron stared at each other.
"What are they saying?" Aaron asked. His face was lighting up with anger.
"I have no clue. Something Irish."
"Rud hÉireann," ("Something Irish") Bronco laughed, "Cad ar leathcheann!" ("What an idiot!)
Sean's eyes lit up with anger. Bronco turned to laugh at Mark. Right as he did, Sean stood, punching him in the back of the head. Bronco stared to the ceiling, then fell. Markus swore under his breath, charging into the room. He swung at Sean, but missed. Sean grabbed his arm, twisting it around his back. Markus leaned to the floor, face scrunched in pain.
"Ná insult mo bhuachaill , insulent tú muc," ("Don't insult my boyfriend, you insolent pigs," He growled,
"Feicfidh mé a dhéanamh is mian leat riamh go raibh do Boss rugadh." ("I'll make you wish your boss had never been born."
He stared down into Markus's face, distorted in pain, and stomped his arm.
Markus's last thing to see before unconsciousness was his arm snapping under Sean's shoe.
YOU ARE READING
Intensity: A Septiplier Fanfic
Hayran KurguMark and Jack seem like such a lovely couple, with everything going for them. What could possibly go wrong?
