Change Me || Septiplier

Three.

Mark's eyes were drawn into the blue eyes of the guy next to him. The green haired male was admittedly lovely, undoubtedly stunning, with how his facial hair fit perfectly on his face and how he managed to pull of green hair. He couldn't seem to pull his eyes off of him, and maybe it was because of his looks but Mark was blaming it on waiting for the connection. Though, it just wouldn't come.

Where was it?

He furrowed his brows and watched the other guy cock his head. Humming curiously, he broke the awkward silence and tension. "Interesting. I've never heard of a 'no connection' situation before." The bartender came up to the two once again, this time setting a glass of water in front of the guy. Mark then understood: he was an Angel. And the Angel must've caught glimpse of Mark's drink because he hummed again, but this time in understanding. "Well, Mr. Demon," he said, which caught Mark off guard. Shouldn't he be leaving? "You think I should leave, don't you?" A smile popped up on the Angels face. "Well," he dragged out, "I think we can be friends, if that's okay with you. I mean, everybody had a little good in them," he said matter-of-factly. He still supported a smile on his face.

Mark just stared at the Angel, a smile not daring to spread on his face. He looked at his drinks and picked up the shot glass, downing it quickly before taking a sip out of the bigger glass. The Angel cleared his throat awkwardly before letting out an uncomfortable breath. "Well, uh, my name is Sean. I'm an Angel, and I," he pointed up at his hair, Mark's eyes following his finger, "like the colour green." His body was now turned towards Mark in his stool, and he leaned forward, hands sliding down his thighs to his knees, and smiled at Mark. "How about you?"

Mark just gave Sean another glare out of the corner of his eye before looking back at his glass and taking another sip. Why was an Angel talking to him? Does he not understand the races were not supposed to talk unless it was for business? Or if one was trying to change races? And why was this Angel so energetic? He had ran into a few Angels before, but none had been so energetic when talking to him.

However, the longer Mark thought, the pieces clicked into place. The Angel, Sean McLoughlin, was commonly talked about. A super friendly, outgoing, energetic, helping Angel. Saw potential in everything and everybody. He was talking about more than any Angel or Demon. And the Angel next to him, who was named Sean, was talking to a Demon. Of course, now it made sense as to why he was talking to Mark. He talked to everybody and anybody.

But he didn't understand why he would be nice to him, Mark Fischbach. One of the most oldest and dangerous Demons to exists. Mark never talked to anybody, he was rude and selfish, but Sean still sat next to him, waiting for a reply.

Maybe Mark enjoyed someone talking to him. Maybe he shouldn't tell him his name, everyone knows of Mark Fischbach. It was hard not to.

But Mark was now confusing himself with thoughts flying around his head, so he picked up his glass once more and took a larger sip. Setting he glass down, he look forward for a split second before looking over at Sean again. "Mark. Demon. Alcohol." Sean leaned back in his seat and nodded.

"Interesting. I was leaning more towards what colour you liked, but fair enough."

>>>>>>

Sean was fully aware that he was talking to a Demon, which had scared him at first, but he didn't want to be rude and leave. So, he continued sitting and talking, and he wasn't that scared about it anymore. He was enjoying the conversation they were having, even though it was pretty one-sided. It was obvious that Mark wasn't a very big talker, but Sean didn't mind it. As long as he would listen, Sean would talk. Hopefully, Mark wouldn't get too annoyed.

"I like red," Mark said, confusing Sean for a millisecond before he understood what he was referring to. A stronger whiff of alcohol came by, and Sean squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. His stomach twisted in disgust. He should've left by now, a bar was no place for him, but he wanted to talk to Mark and he needed to finish his glass of water.

Mark set his elbows on the counter of the bar and placed his face in his palms. Sean assumed that Mark was upset, so he furrowed his brows in worry and leaned against the counter in attempt to see Mark's face better. "Are you okay? Sorry, I don't mean to seem nosy and intrude. Just... got worried," he said quietly.

Mark lifted his face out of his hands and looked over at Sean, a sarcastic chuckle coming from him. The laugh was dry and fake, and Sean got a bit uncomfortable. "Are things ever okay?" He had a point, didn't he?

Things were never okay. Sean was always so positive, he loved helping other and he always wore a smile. There were so many good things to come out of helping, but there were also so many downsides. Death. There was so much death to come out of so many jobs. He put his heart and soul, his hope and faith in helping everybody until their better, but sometimes it just fails. And he couldn't help, he'd have to sit there and watch his hope and faith crumble in front of him. His heart would ache for weeks, but he didn't want to burden people with his heartache; he would keep his depression to himself. Maybe not a smart decision, but he wouldn't talk to anybody about it.

Sean was happy, yes. He loved what he did. Yet, he was depressed on the inside, somewhere deep within him. But that's just life, isn't it?

Are things ever okay?