eye of the hurricane.

❋ seán mcloughlin
soft heart, strong head | played by: tobin heath;

@ fairy boy.

@ tobin heath;

It's seven in the morning. Another restless night.

Mark pulls his knees to his chest, sitting on the couch as the minutes pass. His dog, Chica, nuzzles his palm, her tongue like sandpaper on his skin. He hates to think of her as a replacement for the family dogs Lucy and Maggie, but that's exactly what she is. Chica whimpers into his hand, probably asking for food or water or a bit of attention. Hopefully it's the third, because at the moment, it's all he can give her. He needs to make a trip to the store soon.

"I'm sorry I left you last night," he whispers to the dog that stares dopily back at him. "I got to see him, though. He was really drunk but...really cute."

Chica yips before nibbling at the tip of his ring finger. She understands.

"I wasn't gonna go, but Felix insisted. I don't even know how he knew me or why he talked to me, y'know, but I knew Ja–Seán would be there. I didn't know why Felix wanted me there, so I left before anyone got the chance to embarrass me, but I saw him and he smiled at me." The memory of fighting through pulsing music and grinding bodies to meet the brilliant, blinding smile of Seán McLoughlin causes his heart to race at dangerous speeds. He fluffs up Chica's white-golden fur, cards his fingers through it as it never fails to calm his nerves. He places a kiss on her muzzle and tightens the pink bandanna around her neck, saying, "I'll be back with food tonight, okay, girl?" She licks his nose as a response. She's a good girl.

Mark leads her into the backyard and dumps a few toys near the door, filling her bowl up with water and leaving her to her own devices. The fence is high enough as to where he doesn't have to worry about her running away. It'll be okay.

The money in his front pocket burns against his leg, weighs him down immensely, but he can't worry about that now. He calls out, "I'm leaving," to a house that's been empty for nearly two years, and heads outside, his heart in his throat at the thought of going to school, surrounded by people intent on making his life that much more hellish.

The only bright spot is Chica awaiting his return

And Seán, too. Maybe. Kind've. Perhaps he can muster up the courage to say hi today.

[this got so long omg my apologies!! /.\]

@ fairy boy.

@ tobin heath;
[it's great!! looks like i have to beat felix's ass tho]


He can hardly make it into the building before he hears the whispers.

People constantly speculate: why is he still in school, shouldn't he have graduated a year ago? It doesn't look like he lives with anyone, where are his parents? Why is he such a little bitch, letting people walk all over him? What the hell is wrong with Mark Fischbach? And he'd happily tell them, quell some of the rumors that have been swirling since the dawn of time, but he can't. The damage that's been done to his (near-nonexistent) reputation is irreparable. All he is, all he'll ever be, is that really quiet, really creepy boy that disappeared for a year after getting caught in the bathroom with no family and a guy that was all too happy to throw him away when they came under fire.

It's fine.

Mark stays to the right side of the hall, his shoulder running against a cold row of lockers. He thinks he can feel eyes on him, but he can't be sure. He certainly isn't looking around to check. Just as he prepares to turn the corner, however, the feeling of stares turns into complete and utter bashfulness.

Seán. Seán is mere feet away from him, talking to Felix. Whatever the discussion is that they're having, it looks almost intense. Mark makes sure to keep his distance, praying that the pounding of his heart isn't loud enough to give him away. When Seán goes to walk away, Mark ducks his head, busying himself with brushing off his clothes. Chica left a lot of fur on his pants, and he knows good and damn well that it stands out against the jet black material. Oh, God, please don't let Seán see him now, he looks a -

And Seán is looking. He's waving. Felix's lips are moving but Mark never gets to hear what he says because Seán kicks him in the ankle. Mark swallows his heart - it's jumped into his throat, oh, no - and pushes forth a timid smile, waving back before whipping around the corner. He's desperate to make himself scarce, unable to deal with Felix's cutting blue eyes or Seán's mere presence, not yet. He needs to get a better grip on himself.

He needs control.

@ fairy boy.
I forgot to tag you XD

@ tobin heath;
[lmao no shame, i'm sure i'll forget too, knowing me ]


The day is barely halfway over and Mark is tempted to ditch. Just sitting here makes his skin crawl. The air is toxic; everyone is snickering or whispering or giggling and he has no one to find solace in, no one to turn to. All he has are the rumors and his memories and the goddamn dog he has to leave at home. God, what he wouldn't give to hold Chica right now.

Of course, there's Seán, but they aren't friends. They aren't even acquaintances. All they do is exchange waves once every new millennia. Besides, Seán is sitting stiff and quiet, hunched over a bit more than usual. His hand sits steady beneath his chest and his face is red, bottom lip split. Mark doubts he's in the mood to socialize. Still, he's aching to know if Seán is okay; whoever hurt him must be the scum of the earth, because even though they've hardly ever communicated, Mark is positive that Seán is an angel from above.

Hands shaking, Mark scribbles out a note.

Sorry if I'm intruding but are you okay? You only have to check yes or no you don't need to tlk talk to me

YES_______NO

Just as he prepares to drop it on Seán's desk after pretending to need to sharpen his pencil, he's stopped by a kick to the back of his seat. Holding his breath, he turns to see Dan Howell sort of smiling at him. He would be an alright guy if he hadn't fallen in with Felix after transferring here. He acted as Felix's shadow, a conscience with no voice, his only purpose to hover around and snicker if things got too tense.

He gestures for Mark to come closer and says, "Felix wants you to come to his party. He said making friends won't hurt." It's the first time he's ever heard Dan's voice; did he know the guy was British? "Wear something nice." And just like that, Dan leans back in his seat, fading into obscurity. Visibly shaken, Mark stands up, drops the note on Seán's desk — oh, no, he looks even worse up close, is that a bruise? —, and takes the restroom pass without so much as a word.

This is twice now that Mark has been invited to Felix's party. Twice he's been offered to step into the throngs of high school society and risk looking like a complete and total ass at his own expense. Twice he's chancing leaving Chica by her lonesome, only to come home and find that she's left to find someone worthy of her. There's no logical reason a simple party invite should make him feel sick, but he hides away in the bathroom, regardless.

It's quiet now. At least he can contemplate Seán and the boy's injuries. Could it have something to do with Felix and the conversation they—

Felix. Felix is in the stall next to him. Felix is the only one with fucking psychedelic socks and white shoes today. Oh, God. He should've just kept watching the back of Seán's head in class.

@ katsudon.

@ BringMeTheFuentes
(it's great; seán's such a sweet bean! i'm really glad we're continuing! )


For all the panic that Mark launches into upon his dreadful realization, Felix ends up leaving without a word; he must not have noticed Mark hiding beside him.

Still, Mark waits a good few minutes until he dares to peek out of the stall, holding his breath as his eyes dart around the bathroom. No psychedelic socks, no white shoes, no pink hoodie or blond hair or tricky, tricky blue eyes. It's empty. He's alone.

Mark looks into the mirror, eternally smudged and marred by a long crack down the middle, and teases the red fluff of hair on his head. Maybe he could pull off this party thing, slip in and slip out without so much as a stumble. Perhaps Felix really is inviting him to be kind; every dog has their day, don't they? And maybe Seán will be there and maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to say something nice and normal and start a small bit of a friendship.

There's no way in Hell that will happen, Mark is sure, but even a guy like him deserves to dream.

With a quiet sigh, he leaves the bathroom. He's still got the restroom pass around his wrist and his stomach hasn't stopped churning since Dan spoke to him, but he can't stay there; Felix may come back, or worse yet, anyone else. So he leaves, taking the time to peruse the empty halls. There are only fifteen minutes or so until the next bell. Is there anything productive he can do with his time?

Well. Seán's locker is right there.

Just thinking about Seán makes him feel odd, jittery and uncomfortable. Something is obviously wrong with him; his injuries and gloomy demeanor speak bounds. Before he can talk himself down, Mark takes a piece of paper from the floor and retrieves the pen he's got stuck in his pocket and writes.

Hi, I hope this isn't weird but it probably is anyway I just wanted to say I hope you're really okay and your day gets better from here :)

The smiley face is an afterthought, and as Mark considers getting rid of it, he realizes there's no scratching it out unless he wants a big dot of ink on his note that he's already hesitant to leave in the first place. He's not leaving a name, but it's so weird and awkward that surely Seán will trace it back to him. He shoves it into one of the small slits of Seán's locker door, speedwalking away with his trembling hands in his pockets. What is he doing; leaving notes and going to parties? Maybe he should just retire from the outside world and hide away wth his puppy and his memories.

And at least then, he won't be able to delude himself with the thought of Seán actually giving a shit about him.

(sorry this isn't too too much to go off on i hope it's okay!!)