Change Me || Septiplier

Eight.

Mark continued his pacing manner, except now he was at the local park rather than his room. It was late, nearly 3 in the morning, which meant the park was empty. He was growing impatient, and that caused his anger to only get worse. Ignoring the fact that his anger was causing him to burn through his shoes, leaving the grass under him burnt, he continued pacing while his annoyance grew.

It had to of been twenty minutes since he called Sean, who had told him ten minutes. As he was about to flash to where Sean was, he felt a gust of wind and, finally, footsteps. "Mark, I'm here. Let's talk." Mark turned around to face Sean. He could see the faint streaks of dried up tears staining his face. For the first time, mark was worried.

"Are you okay?" he asked before realising it. Sean nodded robotically, waving the question off and gesturing for Mark to continue. It wasn't like Mark to pry the information out of people, let alone as what's wrong, so he continued. "Okay. Can you tell me what the hell is going on? With me? With my mind?!" His voice rose and he watched Sean's eyes widen a bit.

"You're going to have to explain more," Sean said gently, as if talking to a kid, and went to sit at a nearby picnic table. It was old and falling apart, carvings scattered all over the seats and bench.

"You. You and all your Angelic scribbles will not leave my mind. It's giving me a bloody headache. I have tried everything, any possibly way to get my mind to push them out and focus on anything else but nothing works. What did you do?!" Mark's chest heaved as he got his mind off his chest, waiting for Sean to reply.

Sean was silent for a while, eyes in a daze from thinking. Mark stopping pacing and attempting to calm his breathing. Finally, Sean's eyes widened in realisation and he brought his hands up to his face, wiping it before looking at Mark, his eyes filled with worry.

"You're not going to like it," Sean mumbled before standing up and taking over Mark's previous movements. As he paced, he felt Mark's glare on him, so he stopped in front of Mark and met his angry eyes. "I've heard of this happening, but never like this... It always happens on purpose, never like this — on accident. You — your soul, rather, it's," he stuttered a bit, then paused, catching his breath. After a second, he exhaled. "Your soul is trying to become pure. You're trying to become an Angel."

Mark froze, his heart stopping. He was trying to become an Angel? One of the oldest Demons, one who was born to be a Demon, was trying to become an Angel? Everything seemed to freeze and become distant. How is it that when his world stops, everybody else's keeps going? He felt as if he was watching himself from across the park, or talking from a different person in a different state. Why? All the Angels he had met before didn't have this effect on him, so what's so different about Sean? How is it possible if Sean didn't cause this?

"But how? Why?" Mark couldn't seem to find his words, fumbling words out from his mind racing. Sean looked at him and then held up a finger. Before Mark could question it, Sean flew away. Freezing, Mark felt like Sean gave up. That he wasn't going to bother helping. But before he could flash back home and find other ways for help, he felt another gust of wind, and suddenly Sean was back in front of him.

"Book of Souls," Sean said, holding a book up in front of his face. "I've been reading it for a few days now, I'm nearly finished. Of course, I've already read it but something just made me want to reread it. Apparently," he said looking away from the book and back to Mark, "it came in handy." Mark nodded and watched Sean go back to the table and set the book down, opening it to a bookmarked page. "From what I've read, the only explanation that seems right is that oursoulswanttobetogether," Sean whispered the last part, the words sounding like a mixture of vowels and consonants in a messy order.