The atmosphere is tense.
Like a lot of tense.
Like knife-cutting tense.
Mark is panting slightly, his front shining slightly with drops of sweat from the contemporary dance he just practiced.
Jackson's look is one of disappointment, and Mark's one of rage. Both share similar inner feelings though, the first fearing Mark will shut him out again, and the second fearing Jackson will never talk to him again.
Though admitting that is a whole new story.
"Why the hell didn't you wait?" Mark snaps.
"Well I didn't think you would keep something like that from me." Jackson replies.
"And why would I tell you? We're nothing. I'm nothing to you. You're nothing to me."
YOU ARE READING
Access: Denied (Markson AU)
Short StoryIn which Jackson only wants to enter the damn practice room, goddammit. But Mark always gets there first.
