Hotel Room #239

~Clubbin'~ [Part 1]

"When those salty tears won't dry, I'll wipe my shirt sleeve under your eyes." --Ed Sheeran, Shirtsleeves

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Mark:

It becomes hard for me to fall asleep without him by my side. Jack departed from LA a week ago, and I felt slightly better about the situation, since we were now official and there was nothing that kept me from wondering if there was someone else. But it doesn't make the separation any easier for me. I don't know how he feels. I don't ask him. I just wallow in my sadness, all alone.

So one night, Wade and Bob drag me out of bed. Literally, they grab me by my feet and I crash onto the floor, probably bruising my ass. But nothing compares to the pain in my heart.

"God dammit, Mark," Wade exclaims, continuing to drag me across my floor and to my dresser while Bob picks out an outfit for me. "You're so over dramatic, you act like you and Jack broke up."

I just groan in response, rolling onto my stomach and smashing my nose into the floor, closing my eyes and pretending to be dead.

"No, he's acting like Jack died," Bob pipes in as he throws a white shirt down and a leather jacket, along with some black skinny jeans. "Now, put these on,"

"Why?" I complain, whining as Wade flips me over onto my back and grabs my arms, pulling me up. He's been working out, obviously.

"Because, we're going out to a club," Wade explains casually, as if this is something that we just do regularly. Obviously, that is quite the contrary of a normal night. But I knew there is no way I am getting out of this. So, I shoo them out of my room so I can change into the outfit Bob has picked out for me, feeling ridiculous.

I exit out of the room into the living room where Wade and Bob are waiting, and I get hoots and cat whistles from them, making me smack both of them on the side of the head. We order an uber, since apparently we're getting super drunk and will just order another uber on the way back.

We leave the house and the drive to the club takes fifteen minutes, but to be honest, I don't remember much of it. I vaguely listen to Wade and Bob's conversations about the latest trends on the Internet as I stare done at my phone, awaiting Jack's responses.

Jackaboy: Hey, babe, whatcha up to tonight? Wanna facetime? Xx

Me: i cant, wade bob and i are going clubbing apparently. but ill call you later. x

Jackaboy: Okay, well, have fun. :/

"Hey, eyes up here, Markimoo," Bob taunts, grabbing my phone from my hand, and before I can protest, he sends me a look. "No phone zone."

I fucking hate this.

We finally arrive at the club, easily getting in as the music thumps against my brain and we head directly to the counter for some drinks.

Let the night begin.

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After a few hours of drinking and dancing, I finally loosen up and actually have a good time. That all stops when I get a phone call. It has Jack's ID on it, and Wade hands me my phone, saying it's important, since he had it when they took it from me.

"It's Jack...He's in the hospital," Wade says, and I feel dizzy as I grab my phone and run out of the club.

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Dun dun duuuuun!!!!

sorry finals just got over sooooo ill have part two up soon!

Xoxo, Alli