Whipping around you gazed at the Irishman with wide eyes. "Put your fucking clothes back on," you whispered harshly as you ran to do the same. Pushing the hair from your eyes you returned to the door, sighing as you unlocked and opened it.

Mark stood there looking entirely dejected, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and looking at you with sorrow in his brown eyes. "Hey," he murmured, "I think we need to talk."

"Now you wanna talk?" The edge in your voice couldn't be helped; by now it was simply muscle memory. Too often were the two of you fighting over something.

But this was new. Was Mark finally swallowing his pride?

He nodded and offered you the flowers, which you took with more than a hint of wonder. "Can I come in?"

You hesitated. "I... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

What possible excuse could you give him? As you racked your brain for one, his eyes scanned the room behind you, what little he could see of it. Then he eyed you more carefully. "Have you been drinking?"

You frowned a little. "Yeah, so?"

"I really don't think that was a good idea, but to each their own," he replied with a sigh. "Are you coming back home with me? You should sober up before we talk."

It was your turn to sigh, resting your spinning head against the door. Behind you, Seán had made his way into the closet, eavesdropping without a sound. His heart was bound to beat right out of his chest. "Sure, I guess. Let me clean up in here and we can go downstairs, see if they'll refund me at least partially." You shut the door before turning back to the bed, throwing away all the little, empty liquor bottles littered about the room.

Silently, Seán crept out of the closet and went to grab his jacket, but froze as he heard the doorknob turning.

You hadn't locked the door.

"Listen, maybe we shouldn't wait, I don't thi--" Mark froze as he entered. You didn't need to even see to know that he was staring at the other male in the room.

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like forever, not speaking a word. You didn't dare wonder just what was going through Mark's head.

It was Seán who spoke first. "H-hey, Mark, I tried calling earlier, but you never picked up..."

"What are you doing here?" the Korean male asked softly.

"Just, y'know, visiting friends. I was gonna stop by your place in the morning." He tried to smile, a gesture that Mark did not return.

"Were you, now?" His voice had gone low. Your stomach felt sick as you continued to clean up the room the best you were able to; all the alcohol in your system had clouded your judgement, how could you have allowed this to happen?

I should have locked the damn door...

Mark watched you, noting that you weren't meeting his gaze, and frowned slightly. "I'll wait in the car," he muttered to you before spinning on his heel and storming out, slamming the door shut.

Hands clapped over your face you burst into tears. As badly as he wanted to, Seán did not make an attempt to comfort you. It would have only made things worse.

Shaking like a leaf you finished tidying up the motel room, taking the flowers in your hand and heading for the door. But you stopped, glancing back at the brunet still standing there, watching you. Your lower lip shook. "Seán, I..."

But you couldn't finish the thought, because it would have been a lie.

•●X●•

The car was running by the time your trembling legs had managed to carry you outside into the parking lot. You slid into the passenger seat, fumbling with the belt buckle for a few long moments before it finally latched together.

He drove in silence, his grip on the wheel so tight that his knuckles had turned white. There was no music to listen to; he rarely played music when driving, and this would be no different. He liked to use his driving time to think about things.

Like how he had caught one of his friends alone in a motel room with his so-called girlfriend.

Tears ran thick down your cheeks, and you wiped at them hastily. The flowers were situated in your lap gently; they were absolutely stunning. You paid them no mind.

Twice you made an attempt to speak, but your throat had closed with the effort of trying not to sob that you had given up.

What was going to happen now?

As he pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, he sighed and sat back. His eyes were closed against his own tears, but they were short-lived. Anger replaced them rather quickly. Mark made his way out of the car without a word, slamming the door shut as he stormed his way into the house. Slowly you followed suit, gently closing the front door behind you.

He stood at the kitchen island, not bothering to look at you. "Seán seems well," he spoke, almost casually.

Biting at your lower lip you took in a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "Mark... I... I'm--"

"Don't. I don't want to fucking hear it!" he snapped. A hand rose up and shot across your face like lightning, quick as it was. You cried out and backed away, hands clamped to the cheek he had struck. He had actually struck you. You burst into tears right then and there, unable to hold them back any longer. But he eyed you carefully, not pleased with either you or himself. "I never should have let you leave this afternoon."

"Y-y-you... you s-son of a bitch...!" you wailed.

Only then did the realization strike him, and he laid his terrible hands on your arms gently. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to lash out like that, please, I'm sorry," he begged. His warm eyes were pleading with you, pleading for the forgiveness he could only hope for.

Wrenching yourself out of his grip you ran, up the stairs and into the bedroom, shutting and locking the door before dropping down onto the bed, sobbing to your heart's content.

•●X●•

Mark did not bother with even wanting to knock on the bedroom door, and it was just as well. You would have never opened it up for him.

Not for him.

Once your crying had at last tapered off, you continued to lay on the bed, shaking as badly as ever. Your mind did not want to comprehend the situation, it only wanted to block it out. To pretend it never happened and to move on.

Your phone was in your pocket, and you pulled it out just then, staring at the blank screen for a long time. Finally, at long last, you unlocked the device and pulled up a contact in particular, texting the number. [I don't know what to do.]

[I think we both did some things we aren't proud of] was Seán's immediate reply. He had left the motel to go to the one he was staying in himself, a good deal away.

Swallowing hard, you replied back. [He hit me.] Your heart began to pound as you sent the text, wondering just how he would react.

[This had better be a fucking prank] was his response. It took a moment or two extra to type, as his hands had begun to shake.

[No. I wish it was...] Tears began to blur your vision, and you let the phone fall from your hands as they clapped over your face, a fresh wave of sobs overtaking you.

You weren't entirely sure as to how much time had passed, but the doorbell ringing got your attention. Silently you crept out of the bedroom and down the stairs, but Mark was the one to reach the door first.

There was no greeting. No friendly "hello" or even an attempt made at a normal conversation. Instead, Seán's fist collided with the Korean male's face, sending him staggering backwards and tumbling over a nearby stool. "You think you're fucking playing around with this shit, huh? Do you?" the Irishman spat out, entering the house and glaring down at who he would have once considered a friend.

Blood was beginning to drip down from Mark's nose, but he said nothing about it as he stood back up. He glared lightly at Seán before glancing back, in your direction. Of course he knew you were there, hadn't you heard the doorbell?

You felt like vomiting, but struggled against the urge as you watched Seán approaching you. "Pack your shit up," he mumbled, glaring back at Mark. "Go on, hurry up!"

You spun around and made a mad scramble up the staircase, towards the bedroom. Grabbing something larger than a backpack this time, you loaded up a small suitcase with clothes and necessities, zipping it shut before making your way back down the stairs.

The two were at a standstill. Mark blocked the door. You could have gone out the front door instead, but by the time you had gotten it unlocked, the Korean male would have reached you; he was faster than he looked. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked in a dangerously quiet tone.

"Isn't it obvious? Away from you," Seán answered before you could open your mouth. "I've got no problems hitting you again, Mark. Now move. Be reasonable about this."

"Reasonable? You want reasonable? What you're doing is reasonable?!" Mark's voice was slowly getting louder the angrier he became, and your heart sped up. This wasn't good.

"Mark, you hit her. What kind of a low life do you gotta be to do something like that?" the other male spat right back. "You disgust me."

"I said I was sorry."

"That doesn't change things!"

"He's right, Mark," you spoke up in a small voice. Both of them looked back at you, standing there with the suitcase in hand. You weren't sure what was going to happen, not entirely, but you could only assume that Seán would be taking you to the hotel room that he was staying in. Tears overflowed in your eyes, and you swallowed the lump in your throat back down.

"Step aside, Mark," the Irishman warned. His hands were clenched.

But the other male's eyes narrowed. "She isn't yours to take."

"She's better in my hands than yours."

Their arguing was only going to escalate, unless you could do something. But what could you possibly do to diffuse the situation?

In the end, it didn't matter. The moment you opened your mouth to speak, Mark lunged and tackled Seán to the floor. You let out a shriek as they collided, struggling, Mark with the advantage. But Seán had the Korean male's fists in his hands, pushing right back until he finally threw Mark off of him. The moment he hit the floor Seán got back up, making a dash towards you and grabbing your hand. "Come on, hurry up!" he demanded, pulling you towards the unblocked door.

But a hand at your arm made you scream in fear, dropping the suitcase as you were pulled back and out of Seán's grip. Pulled against him, Mark held you tightly in a sort of hug that felt far too tight. "Don't leave me," he mumbled. "Please. I'm so sorry for how things turned out, I promise you I'll get help."

They were sweet words, but they were also ones that you no longer had the heart to listen to. "Mark, let me go," you demanded, the lump in your throat returning with a vengeance.

"No. I love you still."

"Fuck you!" You shoved and squirmed until at last he released you all at once, making you stumble backwards against Seán, who caught you and steadied you back onto your feet. He murmured some words of encouragement as he walked out of the house, but you couldn't help but look back towards Mark. The son of a bitch that had struck you, that had changed everything for the worst.

•●X●•

The taxi ride was silent, another painful and awkward silence that only made the tears start to flow again. You couldn't believe what had happened, not really. Walking out on your boyfriend twice now, and possibly for good this time.

Would I even want to go back...? What am I gonna do when Seán goes back home? Stay in a motel until I can get on my feet?

Your silence did not go unnoticed, and slowly Seán reached over, taking your hand. It was far from a romantic gesture, more as a means of comfort. But you pulled your hand away for reasons you couldn't place, and he did not try again.

The hotel was far nicer than the motel you had stayed in earlier, and it was terribly late in the evening. The alcohol had long gone out of your system, leaving you with a melancholic feeling that only seemed to worsen the terrible silence in the air. He led you up into the room he was staying at, sighing as he emptied his pockets and watching you make your way to sit on the bed. "I'm sorry," he finally spoke out loud. "But I don't regret anything I've done tonight. Least of all punching that bastard."

All you could do was nod, closing your eyes and losing yourself in a numb sort of sensation that you did not like. The reality of what had happened was striking you again, but there were no tears. Not yet. "I don't know what to do," you admitted. "I can't... I can't go back. I won't go back to him."

"Then don't. Stay with a friend for awhile, find a job and get your own place." He spoke about it so casually, but you knew he was right. Seán sat beside you, an arm going around your shoulders, again to try and bring a means of comfort to you. But you shrugged him off, and he held up his hands in a defensive manner for a moment before looking away. "Sorry," he apologized quietly, mumbling. "I'm just... trying to make you feel better."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to be feeling right now, Seán," you replied. "I just escaped my own boyfriend."

"Are you still gonna call him that?" He sounded pissed off. "He hit you!"

"It's out of habit!" you snapped right back, standing up and turning towards him. "It's out of fucking habit, okay? Don't get pissed off at me, Seán McLoughlin! I've been with Mark for a long fucking time, and I never would have seen something like this coming." You began to pace the room, hands at your temples and trying to massage the headache out of your head. "I never would have thought this would happen. Mark never struck me as an abusive type."

Seán, frowning deeply, watched you pace. He didn't like the situation at all; how could he? The woman he loved had just run out on her boyfriend after he'd struck her. All he wanted to do was to make you happy, but it seemed to be a long time coming now. "Please don't tell me you're gonna stay with him," he begged quietly. "Please."

You gave him a look. "I left him, didn't I? I'm here with you, obviously. I can't go back to that place now. I just can't."

Another hour passed before you finally began to grow tired; it was long past one in the morning. Yawning you sat back down on the edge of the bed, looking back at the male nearby. "Are you sure you don't want me to get my own room or something?"

"I'm sure. I'd rather be here in case he tries to come back for you, but he doesn't know where I'm staying at this time. I never told him." You couldn't figure out how Mark had managed to find you to begin with, until you realized that you had used your bank card to get the room; you had a joint account with him, so he must have looked it up.

"You're talking like he'll stalk me down and drag me back," you admitted, chills running down your legs.

"He hit you. I wouldn't put it past him anymore. He could be capable of anything." Seán slowly began to undress, at least the top half of him, before sliding under the covers. "Try and get some sleep," he mumbled.

But as much as you wanted and needed the rest, nightmares of Mark plagued you. Terrible ones, ones that mostly involved him beating you to within an inch of your life. All for leaving.

Guilt most likely brought them on. You had, after all, cheated on him.

But he was cheating first...

No. That doesn't make it better. I'm just as bad as he is.

You slowly covered your face with your hands, trying to keep the sobbing silent and only being mildly successful. But it was your body shaking that woke Seán, and he reached out in the darkness for you, pulling you closer. "Hey... hey... it's all right. Let it out," he murmured sleepily.

You cried against his chest, hands clenched into fists that rested against his chest. You cried for a good long while, understanding that the whole situation was mostly your own fault. If you hadn't left the house the first time, none of this would have happened.

That wasn't to say that Seán nor Mark weren't to blame, either. It was all one confusing, awful mess between the three of you, and things just would not be the same.

•●X●•

You woke up still clinging to Seán, whose arms were wrapped around you tightly in his sleep. But as you stirred he awoke, pulling back and looking down at you with a soft smile. "Did you sleep?" he whispered to you. His smile widened when you nodded. "Good."

You didn't have a nightmare in the time that you were being held, and for once you felt... safe. Wanted. Seán made an attempt to pull away but you pulled him right back. "Not yet," you begged, shyly. "I'm comfortable here."

"Works for me." His arms wrapped around you in the same way as before, and he smiled again when he felt you relax again.

Eventually you did pull away of your own accord, grabbing your phone out of habit. There were two missed calls and a handful of texts, all from Mark. Who else would they be from? But you tossed the phone back onto the bedside table without looking or listening to his messages as you sat up, stretching. At least you had your clothes and other necessary things. Standing back up and stretching some more you opened your suitcase, grabbing a change of clothes. "I'm gonna take a shower," you mumbled.

"Can I join you?"

End of Part Two