(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.

The room was small but spotless, so at least there was that. You eyed around, noting the miniature fridge below the television that was mounted on the wall. You peered inside to find a mini bar, fully stocked with alcohol.

Good. Drinking away the problem would definitely help, at least for the time being.

A few of the tiny bottles later and you had barely a buzz going. Your phone was ringing, however, and you frowned. Was it Mark? The called ID spoke otherwise, and you answered it happily. "Hi, what's up?"

"Hey, I'm in town if you and Mark wanna catch up. I can't seem to get a hold of 'im, he's not answering my calls." The Irish accent seemed even more prominent through the phone, or perhaps that was the alcohol getting in the way.

"Fuck him. Don't bother. I'm free, so why not stop on by the place I'm staying and we can hang out and catch up here?" Your words weren't slurry, not yet, but there was definitely a hard edge to them as you spoke about your so-called boyfriend.

There was a pause on the other line. "Is something goin' on between you two? You sound pissed."

"Come by and I'll explain if you really want me to."

"You're not at home?"

"Of course not. I stormed out." After giving Seán the motel name and room number you flopped back down onto the bed on your back with a sigh. You honestly wondered if he would even show up, or if he would visit Mark first.

It took an hour, but there was a knock at the room door which made you sit bolt upright. Peering through the door's peephole revealed the Irishman on the other side, so you unlocked the door with a soft smile. "Hey, come on in," you spoke, stepping aside so he could enter.

The brunet male frowned a little as he entered, noting the distinct lack of Mark. "All right, what happened? The two of you are usually as thick as thieves."

You waved a hand dismissively, going to the fridge and pulling out two more tiny bottles of alcohol. "We drink first. Then I'll talk if I'm tipsy enough."

This wasn't like you, but who was he to refuse your request? He took one of the bottles from your hand and downed it easily before sitting in a nearby chair, while you returned to the bed, drink in your hand. "Those things will hardly get you drunk enough for the night. Maybe, but just barely. Tell me what's going on."

"He's been cheating on me." You frowned and stared at the floor before downing the shot's worth of alcohol from the bottle in your hand. There was definitely a lightheaded feeling by now, so the alcohol was doing its job.

"The hell you say! Mark?"

"He flirts with all the girls that recognize him in public, I can't stand it anymore." There should have been tears, but instead there was only a milky sort of anger brewing inside of you.

Getting up from the chair he sat beside you, an arm going around your shoulders. Out of instinct you laid your head against his shoulder. "I'm here if you need to cry it out, you know."

"I'm too mad to cry. I just..." You sighed, noting his body heat and how good it felt to have a kind human being around for once. One that you weren't constantly fighting with. "Is it too much to ask him to change? All he really said was that I knew what I was getting myself into when I asked him out..."

"Seems like a lotta bullshit if you ask me. He shouldn't be flirting with anyone, especially not in front of you." Seán frowned deeply, rubbing your shoulder. "No, and it isn't too much to ask. He should have quit that shit immediately."

Now the tears were starting to form, and you sat back up properly to wipe them away. "I'm just... I'm so sick of fighting with him. That's all we do anymore. He's changed for the worse, he's just not the same."

With a small sigh he nodded. He hadn't seen it personally, but who would know Mark better than anyone if not for yourself? You were the one who saw the private side to the Korean male. Mark was always happy to have Seán around, but the brunet never really saw too much of the personal side to him. Maybe a glimpse here and there, but you had seen all of it.

You glanced back over at him, trying to smile. "Thank you for at least hearing my side of the story. God only knows what sort of bullshit version he'll come up with for himself."

Grinning right back he shrugged. "It's only fair," he replied gently. "Besides, like I said, I couldn't get a hold of him. You were the one to pick up the phone, so here I am."

Maybe it was the alcohol buzzing around in your system. Or maybe it was the nice, pleasant sensation of having someone kind around for once. Never would you have thought that it would come down to this, never in your entire life.

But your lips pressed to his, for just a moment, before you jerked away, looking down at the carpeted floor with your eyes wide. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have..."

He shook his head quickly, trying to clear it. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for something like this," he admitted. "But I think maybe you've had enough."

"Or not enough," you suggested with a sly sort of smile. "Come on, I was trying to drink away my problems tonight, don't cut me off now." But the smile quickly faded as guilt washed over you. "I'm so sorry, Seán. I..." You what? What could you say?

Nothing. Not as he inched that much closer to you, covering your hand with his own. "Let's drink a little bit more, yeah?" he asked softly. "Then we'll see where things go. If nothing happens, great."

•●X●•

The next hour was spent in laughter and generally good company. Seán was naturally funny, and did a damn good job at cheering you back up. Soon the both of you were tipsy, swaying in your places and just giggling over tiny things. It felt nice for once, to not be arguing with someone.

But he leaned in towards you, speaking quietly, as though he did not want anyone to overhear. "So... how come you kissed me?"

You sighed loudly. You knew it was coming. "I don't know, Seán. I said I was sorry." And you were sorry. Why it had happened, you weren't sure entirely. Maybe you were simply caught up in the moment of actually feeling happy for the first time in a long time.

But he evidently had other plans, as he leaned in further to capture your lips with his again, softer and more gentle than the first kiss had been. Your eyes fluttered shut on their own, and you could feel his hand resting against your cheek, edging you that much closer to him. "S-Seán, what are you--"

"I told you. Whatever happens, happens." His eyes were slightly glazed over with the effects of the alcohol he had consumed. He clearly wanted this, whatever was happening between the two of you. He took your face with both hands this time, pulling you closer and into yet another kiss.

Your heart was in your throat the longer it went on. But... could you really reason with yourself with the alcohol in your system? No. Your mind had been so dead set on the fact that Mark was cheating that, perhaps, you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. To show him how you felt whenever he would flirt with his fans.

But with Seán?

"--Mmph!" you squealed, suddenly finding yourself on top of the Irishman. He had pulled you there, grinning up at you. "Seán, what the fuck?" you asked, voice slurring the words a touch.

His grin dissipated. "Am I goin' too far?"

You swallowed hard, the mixture of adrenaline and alcohol doing wonders in your body. It craved contact. "N-no, no, it's not that, I just... I don't know..." You crawled your way off of him, sitting beside him as he sat back up.

"If I'm goin' too far, you gotta tell me. Cause otherwise..." his voice trailed off.

"Otherwise what?"

"I want you." He frowned a tiny bit, swallowing hard and looking down at his hands in his lap.

The silence was terrible. What could you say? He actually wanted you? "... for how long has this been going on?" you asked slowly.

"A long fucking time." Reaching over he took your hand, staring right through your eyes, into your soul. Or at least that was how it felt. "You're unhappy. You can't tell me otherwise. Let me make you happy."

Tears began to prick at your eyes at his words. You couldn't deny that you were unhappy with your situation. An unfamiliar burning sort of feeling rose into the pit of your stomach, and it only grew as he crept closer to you. Your skin felt electrified, every touch heightened as he gently laid you on your back. Your eyes squeezed shut tightly, but only for a few moments before opening them again, meeting his baby blue gaze. Swallowing a lump of fear, you breathed deeply. Scared as you were, you needed... something. Some form of happiness. And perhaps he was right; perhaps you would gain it through him.

His hands were gentle, running down your sides, feeling your curves as he leaned in towards you again, face burying in the crook of your neck. Even his kisses were gentle but each one felt full of energy. Your head spun with the alcohol, so you closed your eyes to focus on his touch instead.

One hand laid on your thigh, slowly inching it's way to what lay between them. There was warmth there, he was certain of it, and he needed to feel it for himself. "Let me make you happy," he whispered, repeating.

His hand found purchase between your thighs, radiating warmth. He reveled in it. Rubbing slowly, he listened to your breathing hitch, pressing a kiss to your throat.

The warmth was spreading all throughout your very core, and his touch only magnified it. You allowed your jaw to fall open, whimpering softly the longer he rubbed you. But he pulled his hand away, making your eyes shoot open. "You asshole, don't tease me," you protested with a laugh.

Seán only grinned. "Oh, I ain't done with you yet, don't you worry," he replied, reaching down to help you out of your shirt. Only now did you feel slightly self-conscious, turning a pretty shade of red and looking away. "Don't be like that, you're gorgeous," he reassured you, stroking your cheek. He then stripped off his own shirt, tossing it aside before leaning back down to plant kisses along your collarbone. His hand returned to your core, rubbing just a little bit harder until you started to whimper again.

The orgasm was quick and not too overwhelming, your back arching up and away from the bed as you cried out. He chuckled softly, removing his hand and gently tugging at the hem of your pants. "Come on. Off with these."

He helped you out of the rest of your clothing, and you were sitting up, entirely naked with one arm draped over your chest. Seán could only grin as he stripped, as well, his eyes never leaving you. His excitement was pretty apparent, and you had to admit that you rather enjoyed this side to him...

Or at least you would have, had there not been a knock on your door. Your heart sped up rapidly, eyes widening as you slid off of the bed and went to the peephole.

It was Mark.

End of Part One