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***Mark's POV***

Our holiday was short, but with Sebastian's appointments, we knew we had to get home.

Driving home, I hold Seb's hand with my right one. I focus on driving while running my fingertips over his smooth skin.

Finally making love to someone, that was something I had never felt. His touch, the way he caressed my soul while bringing me intense pleasure, everything was beyond perfect.

"What's on that beautiful mind?" Seb turns his body towards me. I shake my head, sending him a smile.

"Just remembering our weekend. I really loved it." My words hold truth. I love everything about Sebastian.

"We don't have to go on holiday to be intimate." Seb winks, effectively sending tingles dancing across my flesh.

"Good thing. I wasn't planning on whisking us out of the city every time I want to have you inside of me." The chuckle that leaves my lips is playful. However, I'm dead serious. This man will be doing that over and over.

"You can be inside of me too, you know. I'm not strictly a top. I would enjoy bottoming as well." Seb talks so casually, as if we are not mapping out our sexual positions.

"Noted." I wink at my boyfriend. I wouldn't mind topping him. I just didn't want to on our first time.

Pulling up to Grey and Mak's, we step away from the car. I grab a few bags while Seb grabs the majority.

I have noticed that he likes to show off the fact that he is regaining his strength. I don't mind. I have no need to assert dominance between us. We are both equally masculine. Once in a while, our softer sides come out to play.

As the door to the penthouse swings open, I am not impressed with a very distraught Grey. His eyes are sullen. The deprivation of sleep is apparent. Obviously, his husband is not at all better.

I sigh, making my way to set down our belongings.

"Please tell me he has come out recently." I push my way past Grey, heading towards his room to find Mak.

"No." It's Mario who answers. He pulls himself to his feet, from where he was sitting as a guard at Grey's bedroom door.

"Should we call somebody?" Seb sounds worried, his hand wraps around my bicep. He leans into my side.

"I have threatened, promised, begged and bartered. I don't know what else to do." Grey props his back against the wall. I turn the door handle only to realize that it is locked.

No wonder everyone is on the outside of the door.

"Did you call Daddy Parker?" My words are a smidge panicked. Mak has had his moments in the past. This has been a very long moment.

"We did. God, you should have seen Mak. Let's just say, leave Martin out of this." Kip slides down to take the seat that Mario previously occupied.

"We have to do something. Why didn't you guys call us?" I knock on the door while talking over my shoulder to the rest of them.

"It wouldn't have changed anything. Might as well have your vacation. God knows you two deserved it." Grey sounds exhausted.

I realize that Mak isn't responding to my incessant knocking.

"Give me the fucking key." I snatch the bedroom door knob, placing the key into the hole and turning the damn thing.

My eyes scan the room, saddened to see the state of the room. Belongings are scattered across every inch, nothing is clean like Grey keeps it. The room looks like a tornado had spun revolutions between the walls.

"MAK!" My voice is booming. This shit head needs to be spanked. Grey can handle that another time.

"He's in the bathroom." Grey points towards the door that is closed as well.

Stomping across the room, I make my presence known.

"Mak. God damn it. Get out here." I pound on the door; the force of my blow causes the pictures on the walls to rattle.

"Go away." Mak whimpers. It's devastating, broken.

"I can't." I soften my tone for my broken friend. "I love you. I miss you. Please come out." I plead solemnly.

I step back, giving Mak room to make his exit from the bathroom.

If I thought the room was a wreck, it looks five stars compared to my favorite genius.

Mak's hair sticks up in every direction. His glasses fail to hide his dark circles, swollen eyes and tear streaks.

Grabbing Mak, I pull him into my hold. He cries against my chest. My arms wrap around him, noticing the way his body has changed in the past few weeks.

"When is the last time you ate?" I let my sweetest tone take over. Mak doesn't need reprimanding. He needs intervention.

"I'm not hungry." Mak shrugs from my hold, walking to the bed. He plops down, rolling into a ball. He faces away from all of us.

"He's depressed." Mario whispers quietly near my ear.

"I'm aware." I groan. We don't need Mak having more health problems.

"Go away. Please." Mak rolls onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow. His shoulders shake; his deep sobs tear through the air.

Feeling particularly stubborn, I climb into bed with my friend. I wrap my arms around him tightly, pulling him onto my chest.

"Let it out. Go on. Just scream it out." I rub slowly from his spine to the base of Mak's neck, repeating the process several times.

I use one of my hands to dismiss the party. Mak doesn't want everyone to watch him break. I get that.

"Talk to me. Please." I whisper over Mak's head. He shakes his head against my chest.

"Fine. That's okay. Let's just lay here." I close my eyes, focusing on the stumbling beats that come from Mak's chest.

This is so fucking hard to comprehend. Why don't they just give the boy a child? He would never hurt a soul. Mak is going to make a wonderful father.

"It's not fair." Mak's confession is muffled into my shirt. I feel the vibration of his words seep into my flesh.

"I know. It's not. I'm sorry." I really have no correct words for the severity of the situation. I just want to comfort Mak.

"I'm not a monster." Mak sniffles. He sits up, snot runs from his nose. I take my shirt off, offering it to Mak to clean his face.

Mak blows his nose into my article of clothing. I don't care. He looks down to his lap, the weight of his world sits roughly upon his shoulders.

"You're not a monster. You are kind, forgiving and amazing. You are nothing like they make you out to be." I wholeheartedly agree that Mak is, in fact, not a monster. He is precious.

"I don't know what to do. I can't not feel the pain. The words hurt. They cut so fucking deep. It's like every fear I have ever conjured up has come to wreak havoc. It's eating me inside out." Mak makes a high pitched whine that makes me tremble. He rocks back on his knees, curling into himself.

I watch as my friend cries hard sobs that shake his whole form. I would give everything in my world to take away his pain. He doesn't deserve it. He hasn't done anything wrong.

Stunned into paralysis, I just sit in silence. He doesn't stop crying. Every time he gasps for oxygen, my heart breaks further. Anger replaces my sympathy.

Who the fuck thought it was okay to destroy someone who had already endured far more than any one person can handle?

Is it not enough that life gave him a pile of shit to work with? Fuck! How he is supposed to heal when people get perverse joy in continuously bleeding him alive?

The night is long. The others leave me alone in this room with Mak. I don't want to witness his episode, however I don't want to leave either.

Relief comes in the form of sleep. Mak cries himself into complete exhaustion. He falls asleep in a position of deep prayer. His forehead lays against the bed, knees tucked beneath his body and hands clasped tightly into his chest.

His whimpers never seize. I continue to watch as his body betrays his efforts to feign being okay. Hiccups slip through his tightly sealed lips. He blubbers throughout the night.

I just lay there, hands tucked behind my head, legs crossed. I can't do anything to make it better. That sucks all by itself.

At least, he trusts me enough to be in here with him. That says a lot about our friendship.

This kid has no clue how much I love him. I wouldn't mind being in a room with his parents and Carl. Just an hour, that's all I need. I would show them the gravity of the weight they threw on a small child.

Wounds heal; scars form. Emotional lesions fester. When one thing irritates them, they burst. Poison infiltrates your system, rotting you from the inside out.

It is our job as friends to do the best we can to prevent the poison from spreading. We are obviously failing miserably.

Mak is not doing good. I would say he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. We have to find a way to intercede.

I fall asleep, restlessly. Throughout the night, I wake. Mak stays in the same position.

For fear of keeping him awake, I don't bother to move him. I check on him periodically, peeking my eyes open to sweep over his body.

Day breaks through the large picture window in their room. I immediately wake. Mak hasn't moved. It's just devastating. Time doesn't heal all wounds. That is apparent.

Standing quietly from the bed, I walk slowly towards the door.

I didn't know what i was walking in on last night. I'm glad I did. If even for a brief moment, I feel like I comforted Mak enough to sleep.

Slipping from the bedroom, I exit. I walk to the kitchen to start coffee. It's not Mak's coffee but, it will have to do.

I walk over to Grey, who is wide awake. I imagine he has had many sleepless nights. He stands on the balcony with his head lowered, shoulders slumped. Slipping my arm around my best friend, he turns into my chest.

His cries are silent. The only evidence that he is losing his hold comes in the form of his body shaking against my frame.

Knowing Grey needs this release, I silently comfort him. We have been through hell. All of us have faced so much. I just wonder when one of us won't be able to handle another push from fate.

"I miss my husband." Grey cries out. His head bangs against my sternum. I would complain, but I am not a jackass.

"I know. I know." It's a pitiful consolation. I have nothing.

"I would literally die to give him his dreams. Why can't Mak see that?" Grey doesn't seem like he wants an actual answer.

Good thing because I don't have one.

"He's just feeling a loss." It's the truth that I speak. When a dream slips through your fingers, it's hard to find a different avenue. Mak can be hardheaded. It's endearing and frustrating.

"We can find another way." This time Grey stands back. Turning to the balcony once again, he leans forward to stare at everything below him. His arms slide out against the width of the banister.

"He will realize that, eventually." I think he will. I mean he's a fucking genius. It can't be that hard. I breathe the words out in an angry whisper.

"I need him to get with the fucking program. I haven't been able to console him. No kisses, no touches, I haven't been with him in anyway that we are familiar to." Grey is breaking.

The end must be near. Whether we all find a way to climb through the flames or the fire consumes us, we have to get through this.

I press my body against Grey's back, resting my head between his taut shoulder blades.

If the same God that brought me Sebastian could please save us, I would be eternally grateful.