You (YouTube One-Shots)

Happy

(I do not condone cheating.)

The tension in the room was thick enough to be cut with a knife. The two of you glared at each other like dogs about to fight. And you feared that that was exactly what was going to happen.

His raven hair had fallen in his face, which he hastily pushed back before breaking the staring contest between the two of you, glaring elsewhere. "I don't wanna talk about this right now," he admitted quietly. Was he trying to diffuse the situation?

Arms crossing over your chest, you stood your ground, watching him fidget about. "I don't give a fuck, we're talking about this."

"Talking or bitching?" His dark eyes glared right back to you again.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. All you do lately is bitch at me." Mark frowned deeply, turning away from you as he began to unload the groceries to put them away.

Your pulse was in your ears, your blood boiling. "Well maybe if you would stop flirting with every fucking female that recognizes you, I wouldn't have to," you murmured slowly, quiet enough to let him know that you were dangerously close to blowing up in his face.

He scoffed slightly and peered over his shoulder. "You knew what you were getting yourself into when you asked me out, you know. I'm not about to change who I am just because you're overcome with jealousy all the time."

"Are you cheating on me?" you finally asked. There. It had been said. You had to know by this point.

"Of course not. Just because I flirt doesn't mean--"

"You're such an asshole," you interrupted, tears brimming in your eyes. "Flirting IS cheating, Mark. And you can either knock it the fuck off or I'm leaving."

He fell quiet, not saying a word. Changing himself just to make you feel comfortable seemed too much of a stretch for him; he had always been big-headed and stubborn. But his silence spoke volumes, and you spun on your heel and stormed upstairs to your bedroom. Your shared bedroom, that is. You had been living with Mark for a good half a year, but things always seemed a little tense.

Perhaps a small part of him was right. You did know what you were getting yourself into when you had finally gotten the courage to ask him out, but was it too much to ask that he stop flirting with his fans all the time?

In a blur of tears you shoved a handful of clothing into a bag, fully intent on staying the night elsewhere. Anywhere but around him. But as you headed for the back door he stopped you in your tracks, hand around your wrist tightly to prevent you from going. "Where the hell are you going?" he asked you.

"Anywhere away from you," you spat out.

"You said you wanted to talk about this, but you're leaving? Where the hell are you gonna stay?"

"I don't fucking care! You were the one who didn't wanna talk! You were the one who insisted on it! You're the one who's cheating, Mark, so you can fuck right off!" You wrenched yourself out of his grip, fighting back the harsh sobbing sound that was threatening to come out.

"A little harmless flirting isn't cheating! I can't help who I am, why can't you understand that? I wasn't gonna sleep with her!"

"I think you should. Seal the deal, you bastard." With that, you stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind you.

•●X●•

You walked for God knows how long, heading into the city with nothing but a few days' worth of clothes and your phone. The best you could have done was a motel, which you found after a few hours of searching.