Once they finished up the kitchen, Sean ordered some pizza and wings for delivery. While waiting for the food, they moved onto the spare room which Sean was going to use as a studio.

The room had a lot of natural light from the large window on the wall across from the door. There was a drawing table along with an easel and standing drawers off to the side, and a ton of boxes, half of which Sean said were still packed from last time he moved.

"They're mainly old sketchbooks and art pieces. I've kept pretty much every drawing I've ever done. It's fun to look back on them, see how I've progressed. They're good for my self-esteem when I get angry at whatever piece I'm working on. Or a good laugh"

Mark felt the sudden urge to sift through all the boxes of art. He wanted to see all the work Sean had done throughout the years. So many stories are written within the surface of a canvas, and Mark was itching to see the story of Sean's life unfold before him. He turned to Sean, asking where he wanted to start in order to distract himself from the desire.

"Anything that's marked as "Old", you can leave in the boxes and just put them off to the side. I'll find a better way to store them later."

Mark started to divide the boxes up while Sean decided where he was going to put his drawing table and other furniture. Mark's interest was piqued by some of the boxes, which were filled with various, colourful folders, that all had odd little phrases on them.

"Hey Sean, what's with all the folders?"

Sean paused his work with the drawing table, walking over to see what Mark was referring too.

"Oh, those," He grabbed one from the box. "A lot of my work tends to follow themes, based on whatever mood I'm in and I like to separate them all, keep them organized." Sean rubbed the back of his neck as Mark noticed the label one the one in his own hand. "I, uh, tend to get a little cheesy in the names."

'The Thorns of a Rose' was written on the red folder in Mark's hand, and after looking at Sean for permission, he flipped through the pages. He was always blown away with his talent. Every image seemed to involve roses in some way, some more metaphorical than others. Mark felt his lips twitch as a smile grew on his face. He looked over at Sean who seemed embarrassed in his sorting methods and Mark couldn't hold back a small laugh at it.

"'Ey, don't laugh. It was something I started when I was young and it kept." Sean defended himself.

"I'm not laughing at it. I like it. It's creative and unique, like you." Mark realised a moment too late that he had said the last part out loud. He blushed but smiled at Sean all the same, who let his hackles lower and looked relieved, a touch of red in his own face.

As Mark put the folder down into the box, one of them caught his eye.

He picked up a simple black book with a white label on the front that had the words 'Can you help me breathe?' written on it.

"Oh, that's my most recent one. Remember back at the pub? There was that one piece of the two men in the cabin I showed you, that I had dreamt about. Since then I keep having these weird dreams, sometimes there even daydreams. I keep seeing this man, and he's always with someone. It's usually different people, but it always... feels the same."

Mark was only really half listening as he paged through the images. Every single one was of Mark and Jack, but in different times and lives. He saw one of him and Jon, when they first confessed. There was another with Jumoke, with Jasha. There was the one in the cabin Sean had showed him before. Mark's throat was very dry as he looked through them and it took a lot of effort to keep his voice stable as he spoke through the ringing in his ears.

"What, what do you mean?"

"Like, even though it's always different people, something about it makes me feel like they're all actually the same. Like a lost love or something that he's trying to find life through again. That where the title came from." Sean huffed a laugh. "It sounds silly, talking about it likes it's real. I put a lot of myself into my work so I often make a connection with it. And these, I don't even know where they come from, but they feel... important. I know they're just dreams but it feels like... More." Sean let out a nervous breath. "I know I'm not really making any sense."

Mark kept flipping through until the last one. It was of him and Jack, sitting near the pond, a memory from so so long ago. Jack was cupping Mark's face, the two looking at each other. He had just told Jack about his past, about his brother.

"It wasn't yer fault."

"It was an accident"

He was pretty sure that was the moment he really fell in love with Jack.

The sounds of splashing water filled his head, of him and Jack in the pond. The two of them by the fire, looking at the stars. It had been so much simpler back then. Until Esma had shown up. Until his true curse made itself known.

"Mark, what's wrong?"

Mark snapped his gaze away from the image to Sean's worried gaze, Sean's hand on his arm. There was so much concern in those blue eyes, so much empathy, he felt like he was right back in the memory, with Jack sitting across from him.

"Sorry, it just, reminds me. Of someone I knew." Mark's body felt heavy as he looked at Sean. The hand on his shoulder burning. He kept his gaze locked onto Sean's eyes, and he watched them as they flicked down to Mark's lips and back up. Mark was held captive by the look Sean was giving him. He felt Sean's hand slide up his arm to his shoulder slowly, his fingers snaking up his neck, tickling the hairs. Sean started to move in closer and Mark found he didn't care. Too lost in Jack's eyes, in Sean's eyes, he couldn't resist his desires, smothering down the voice in his head that was setting off all kinds of warning bells.

Mark leaned forward himself, his eyes drifting shut. He could barely hear Sean's heart beat over the hammering of his own-

There was several loud bangs on the front door followed by a muffled voice. Mark jumped in surprise, immediately pulling back from Sean who had also been startled. Mark looked towards the door then back to Sean. "Must be the pizza guy. I'll go get it." He placed the folder that had still been in his hand back into the box and rushed out of the room, tail between his legs. Idiot. Mark was burning from the embarrassment he felt, along with yelling at himself for what almost happened.

He took a steading breath, not that it did much to his frazzled mind before opening the door. The delivery man handed Mark the food, and Mark tipped and thanked him before closing the door. He placed the food on the kitchen counter, wondering if he should go get Sean or just wait for him to come out here. A few minutes later Sean came in, looking a little tense. Mark was sure he did as well, the awkwardness very apparent in the small apartment.

"You want a plate or just going to eat out of the box?" Mark asked Sean, hoping to settle the tension between them and hopefully just act like the last five minutes never even happened.

"Uh, plate. I'll take a plate please." Sean answered back, moving to open the boxes. Mark dished out the plates and glasses, then they loaded up and moved to the living room to sit on the couch. A minute passed before Mark broke the silence.

"Got any consoles we can hook up to the TV?"

Sean looked up in surprise, quickly masking it with nonchalance. "Yea, I have a PS4 we can hook up. It is getting late though, I'd understand if ya had to get going now. I can finish up what's left. You helped a lot today."

Mark saw right through Sean's facade. He was giving Mark an out, a reason to leave. And if Mark was honest, he wanted to take it. His barriers were crumbling around Sean. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep it up.

But at the same time, he wanted more. More of Sean, more of his life, of his story. The pull he felt was so intense. He was so different than all the others, and not just because he looked just like Jack. There was something more to Sean, something he didn't understand and it scared the shit out of him. Those images, he doesn't know how Sean can know about them, how he can draw them. But he does know it means something. And maybe that something is the end to all of this. Maybe, Mark was finally been given his redemption. So against his better judgment, Mark declined Sean's offer.

"Nah, I got nowhere to be. Besides, I believe you have some redeeming to do after last time you were over."

"Hey, you listen here you little shit." Mark watched the tension leak out from Sean's body as he started setting up the PS4, trying to defend himself and his gaming skills to Mark.

Mark could still hear the warning bells going off, reminding him the danger in this, and he knew come tomorrow he would have to deal with the consequences. But that was tomorrow. Today, he was lounging on the couch with Sean, eating pizza and playing some video games. Today he was indulging.

It was almost midnight but Sean couldn't bring himself to sleep. He was sitting on the floor in his drawing studio, going through the folder Mark had been looking at earlier, trying to wrap his head around today. Around Mark.

When they had been at the pub he remembered showing Mark the first one in the cabin, but his reaction to it was fuzzy. After watching Mark today though, he remembered now that he had reacted in a similar way the first time. What was it about these pieces that seemed to get Mark so worked up?

"Sorry, it just, reminds me. Of someone I knew."

Had he lost them?

Sean placed the two images sitting in front of him; the scene in the cabin and the scene by the pond. As near as he could tell, due to the painting style - thick brush strokes - it seemed like it was the same man in both with the other one, the raven haired man, who was a constant in all of his work in this series.

Sean had no fucking idea what was happening with these dreams, and at first freaked him out. The emotions he felt right before the image planted itself in his head were so immense, like he was living it. It scared him. But he also felt like he needed to let them happen. He's always felt so much more when it came to his art, and he's sure if he lets it play out it will make sense in the end.

But it still didn't explain Mark's reaction. He seemed so lost in himself. And the way he looked at Sean...

He shuddered at the memory. The way Mark's eyes bore into him with so much intensity and emotion. He had been held captive by those eyes, drawn by them. And his lips, the way his mouth had been hanging open just a bit, his bottom lip begging to be touched. It had made Sean's mouth water. It had been so automatic, he didn't even realize what was happening until that damn delivery guy came banging on the door. If it had been only two minutes later, he would have finally gotten a taste of Mark's lips. He wanted to put that bottom lip between his teeth.

He had expected Mark to up and run after that, but he stayed with him for hours after, gaming and talking, working some more. Hugged him goodbye. Sean smiled at the memory of Mark's arms around him, the feeling of his strong arms. He was such an enigma. Every time he's with him it's different.

Sean sighed, flopping back to the floor. Mark was the most intriguing and most enraging man he had ever met. And Sean couldn't get enough. Mark felt something, he knows it. The looks he gives him are just too powerful. He's just not sure what that something is.

Sitting back up, he packed his art back into his box with one final look. He couldn't help but imagine that Mark was the man in his art, in his dreams. He could almost picture it being the two of them, sitting by that pond together.

He scoffed at that, feeling ridiculous. You're getting a little over your head there Jackaboy.

Sean sighed and moved to his bedroom. He just got into bed when his phone dinged. It was a text from Ethan. Sean had messaged him earlier about today.

Reading Ethan's response, he felt a smile creep onto his face.

Oh, that could work.