Septiplier & shite<3

I Physically Cannot Do It

Mark was annoyed. But his annoyance was an often enough emotion for him that Jack didn't even bother to complain. Mark was always annoyed, and he was almost always annoyed with Jack. There was no point in asking why he was annoyed, Jack just knew that he must've done something. And now Mark was thoroughly annoyed.

The jet lag hadn't yet gone away and Mark's head was hurting. The sound of traffic and drunken arguments over the low hum of the music made his migraine ten times worse. Mark grumbled, squishing his face against his palm, his eyes searching the room.

Nothing much filled the inside of the bar, a few men sat on stools and drank. A girl sang terribly off key from a decrepit karaoke machine in the corner, and the florescent lights had a flickering problem that couldn't be good for epileptics. The bartender grinned at something a waitress said and sent her a flirtatious wink, before noticing Mark's stare and ducking his head.

He wasn't homesick, although home was far away, he always secretly felt at home with Jack. It was who Jack was and the aura he put off. He never felt alone near Jack.

It was the secret that Mark knew, and Jack was keeping, that was responsible for altering Mark's mood. Of course, he couldn't tell Jack that he knew what he knew. It would defeat the purpose of Jack coming clean. But holding on to the secret of him knowing a secret was causing him to be bitter.

Mark let his eyes rest on a fidgeting Jack, who kept eyeing down his untouched beer but never reaching for it. His fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the table, and his eyes frantically searched for something to focus on around the room.

Mark sighed dramatically, eyes still trained on Jack, his impatience growing thin.

Jack looked back down at Mark, rolled his eyes, and finally stopped tapping. "What is it Maark?"

Mark sighed again, lifting his face up to watch two men get up and leave, stumbling over their own feet. Jack bit his lip, annoyed at Mark's annoyance.

"What did I do? Do you want t' go home?"

"No." Mark scrunched his nose at the thought, "I wanna be here."

Jack glanced at his drink again before turning away, "Right," He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, "Something's wrong...and yer not goin t' tell me."

"You should already know," The woman stopped her horrible singing and put down the mic, taking a final bow.

Jack slammed his hand down onto the table, capturing Mark's attention, "Well I fookin don't." He growled, his fingers curling into a fist, "Ya can't just fookin expect me t' know everything Maark!"

"But this is about me!"

"Isn't everything?" Jack shot back, the room growing silent as their yells caught full attention of the room. Jack took a deep breath before lowering his voice, "Ya make a big deal about everything, just tell me what's wrong."

Mark huffed and briskly pushed himself up from the table, "I don't want to be here anymore."

Jack stood up as well, keeping his eyes level with Mark's, "What do you mean by t'hat?" His heart began to speed up, worry taking over his face as he looked at Mark's angry expression. "Y-ya don't want t' be here..in Ireland? With..." he took in a shaky breath, "With me Maark? Do you want t' go back-"

"Jack...." Mark shook his head, cringing at the sad sound of Jack's response, "That's not what I meant."

"Do I make you unhappy?" Jack's knees buckled, but he kept himself up by his grip on the table. "I..ya wanted t' come here..so bad. I shoulda known..t'his isn't yer home. Ya can't be happy. I can't-"