Chapter 51

Gary's POV

The words have been spinning around my head for the past two hours. I feel sick with worry and at any moment now I'm going to have a breakdown. "Gary." Simply he speaks, knocking me out of a daze. Nervously I lift my head into the direction of the speaking voice. There stands Greg, a couple of inches away from where I'm sitting on the sofa, he's stuffing his wallet into his jacket pocket, whilst he runs a hand through his own thick hair which is styled into a quiff. "I'm going to the shops. Do you want owt?"
Gritting my teeth, roughly I swallow which feels like I've swallowed a razor blade. "...N...No...Thanks."
Nodding his head, he scans around the room, before edging towards the living room door. Its almost as if I'm the guest in my own home, but I certainly wish I wasn't here right now. "Right. I'll be twenty minutes, tops. Get something to eat, you haven't eaten since I arrived here. I'll be taking the keys with me, so there's no point trying to get out of this."
Weakly I watch as he disappears from my sight, once the front door closes then locks behind him, finally I feel like I can breathe again. Peering through the gap in the partly closed curtains, I watch as he happily walks down the road with a smug looking grin plastered on his face. "...What am I going to do?" Mumbling to myself, I glance down at the cut wire of the house phone. He's taken the keys, he's taken my mobile and now he's cut me off from any communication with the outside world. Inhaling a deep breath, I stroke the corners of my mouth, before climbing to my feet and physically forcing my heavy lifeless body into the kitchen. I need to drink at least. Pouring myself a glass of orange juice from the fridge, immediately I take a gulp of it, which quenches my thirst as soon as the icy liquid hits my dry taste buds. Dropping my head into my hands which rest on the worktop in front of the sink, firmly I close my eyes and begin to think. He can't be serious. He's got to bluffing. There's no way he can kill Mark. My Mark. Shaking my head, as I bring my view to face the back garden, a tear escapes my right eye and runs down my cheek. I've only just got him back into my life, I can't lose him for good. Just as I'm about to take another sip of the orange juice, something catches my eye. Abruptly I fix my gaze onto the item which becomes a life line. My mobile. He's left my mobile behind. Striding over to the phone which sits on top of the microwave, instantly I unlock it. 8% battery remaining. 

Taking another deep breath, there's two options I have. One, I ring the police and report everything, from being held hostage in my own home to Greg threatening to kill my boyfriend. Or two, ring Mark and explain everything, hopefully getting him out of danger by warning him and hoping he understands why I had to turn him away today. As soon as the battery drops to 7% , it gives me a wake up call, If I don't do something soon, there's no way out. Punching the digits into the home screen, surprisingly, a voice appears after the fourth ring. Clearing his throat, hoarsely he speaks almost like he's just woken up. "...Hello?" Just by hearing his voice my heart shatters. How could anyone possibly want to hurt this man? Millions of questions are being thrown at me and situations are being over thought already just by his simple response. Its not until the second time he speaks, I finally answer. "...Is anyone there?"
"M...M...Mark..." Shakily I talk down the phone, tears still threatening my eyes. There's silence instantly.
"...Oh, its you. I'm trying to sleep." Bluntly he replies, which only brings more heartache inside of my body. Rapidly my heart swells in my chest and the only sound I can hear is the blood pounding inside of my ears.
"P...Please...I...I can explain."
Releasing a groan, he forces out a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. "Gaz, I don't care about your excuses. I've had enough. This is making me ill again that's why I decided to take an early night. I'm not going to keep dropping everything for you, just to make you love me again. I can't do it. I need to focus on myself and Hannah-"
"I do love you!" My voice increases out of nowhere. "Please, Mark. I need-"
"I'm sorry, Gary. But I can't keep running round after you and giving you space all the time. I'm sick of being pushed away. I can't do this anymore. I'll see you next week at the scan, yeah? I need to sleep."
"Mark please, please wait!" Losing control of my breathing, panic strikes. "Mark, the thing is, I need your hel-" The phone drops dead and I'm left talking to myself. Tearing the mobile away from my ear, I notice that Mark has ended the call. Disconnecting the call also, I fumble around to find Mark's contact again, hitting the call button, this time he doesn't end the call. After two rings, the phone drops back into silence once again. "What?!" Glaring at the dark screen, frantically I hit the buttons, but get no response. "No, no, no!" Tears rush to my eyes, now that I notice that the phone has died. This can't be happening. "P...Please? Please no." Hitting my palm against the back of the phone, the water works are no longer being held back, weakly I drop to my knees with my mobile still in my hand, as I begin to cry to myself. "...Mark..." Softly I sob as I sit on the kitchen floor in front of the cooker, with my knees pulled up to my chest.

"Gary?!" Sharply a voice echoes down the hallway and the slam of the front door rings in my ears just minutes after the call. Noticing the mobile as soon as his eyes set upon me, frustration now shows in every inch of his face. Snatching it from my grip before I even get chance to blink, he becomes furious that the mobile doesn't switch on. "Who the fuck have you called?!" He spits in my face, dropping the grocery bags at my feet.
"N...No...one..." The words leave my lips in a whisper, which only causes his blood to boil by my lie. Harshly he grabs my chin, connecting my eyes with his, making me tense by the forceful eye contact.
"Don't you dare lie to me, you bastard!" As my mouth opens to blurt out another excuse, before I get chance to, his palm crashes against the side of my cheek, causing the side of my head to hit against the kitchen floor tiles.
"Ahhh..." Lifting my hand to my burning cheek, I squint my eyes as the figure begins to approach.
"Who did you ring?!"
Wiping away the wetness from my lip with the back of my hand, I confess. "...M...Mark..." I grumble.
Swinging his leg backwards, it collides with my ribs, several times. "You stupid, stupid man!"
"Please!" Loudly I plead, trying the best I can to protect my aching body. "Stop it. Just stop it!"
"What did you tell him?!"
"Nothing! I swear nothing!" Then the kicking promptly stops, allowing me to breathe again. Tasting the blood from my bottom lip, the pain runs through my entire body. "...Please..." I cry. Watching Greg move away from my fragile body whilst he starts to unpack the carrier bags, panting for a steady breathing pattern, I try to move into a more comfortable position on the floor, if possible. "...Just...Just do whatever...you...you want to me...but...but leave Mark alone..."
"Leave, Mark alone?" He scoffs at how pathetic I sound, well to him I do. "Taking my anger out on you, seems like a pretty good thing to me, but the revenge isn't complete until Mark takes his final breath and nothing will change that, but then again... you have that award ceremony to present in a couple of days...I guess I should leave your face alone until after that, we don't want questions being asked, now do we?"
Wincing as I carefully force my back against the cupboard doors, my arms wrap around my ribs. "H...How...did you know...about tha-"
"I read your letters. Don't worry, nothing important came. Just the usual bills and charity crap." He smirks from the kitchen table, making me feel as if I'm the smallest person on this planet. He can't get away with this.

Mark's POV

Two days have passed since Gary's call and it seems that I've been in bed since that day. Running a comb through my hair, I look at my smartly dressed body in the bedroom mirror. Tonight is the night I'm attending the Brit awards, hosted by James Corden, who's also a good close friend to the band. I really wish I declined Robbie's offer of being his guest this evening, but the fresh air and company will do me good, instead of being cooped up inside a child's bedroom all day and night. "At least Gary won't be there." I think to myself, as I frown at my reflection as soon as the words leave my lips. Before I get chance to scold myself for thinking such a things, there's a knock on the bedroom door. "Yeah?" In seconds, the door becomes ajar and there stands a man dressed top to toe in designer wear. "Wow." Playfully I smirk. "Someones made an effort for once."
"Watcha mean by that, Markie?" Robbie barks out a laugh, whilst staring down at his dark purple suit and black trousers. "I went all out for this evening, got this freshly made."
"I gathered." Smiling at him from within the mirror, I set down my comb. "You do look great though mate. Its nice to see you happy again."
"Always happy me, I'm Robbie fucking Williams." Nudging me with his elbow, cheekily he winks.
"Yeah that's true." I roll my eyes. "...But I think its best if you take Yasmin this evening, I mean...it would be nice if you two spend more time together instead of babysitting me or Eleanor constantly."
Robbie shakes his head and delicately places both of his palms on top of my suit jacket shoulders. "I've already told you. Yaz isn't up to it, she's about to go into labour for the second time, what she needs is peace and quiet not a roaring crowd with blasting music. She has enough of her eardrums being burst from Ellie's cries. Besides, you need a night out. Its been too long since I've seen a true smile on that mug of yours. I mean it Markie, you're not worming your way out of this one. Anyway...it stops me from getting a ear bashing from droopy draws."
"I heard that!" Loudly a voice calls from the next bedroom, causing the pair of us to burst into laughter.
"Come on, mate. Alan is outside waiting with the car, its time to leave."
----------------------------

Sliding my suit jacket off, I use my hand to act as a fan. It feels like a hundred degrees in here and by the look of things, the air conditioner has broken down. So far we've been stuck here for the past hour and half, still award less on Robbie's behalf. Sitting alone now that Robbie's bumped into a few old friends back from the early days and ones his written with throughout his career, I sit with a bunch of half drunken randomers. The whole place smells like a brewery, which is making me even more uncomfortable. Itching to leave, before I get chance to sneak off to the toilets, the lights begin to dim back down once again and Robbie huddles back beside me at the table. "You OK?" He whispers in my ear and furrows a brow by the sight of my flustered face.
"Y...Yeah...I'm jus-"
"Ladies and Gentlemen." James Corden reappears back onto the stage looking exactly how we are all feeling, as he drowns in his own sweat drenched suit underneath the scorching lights. "...Please put your hands together for your final host this evening...Mr...Gary Barlow!" Just by those three simple words I partly choke on my tongue, thankfully I have Robbie on stand by.
"Mark?!" Patting me on the back, swiftly I grab hold of my water from the centre of the table, before taking several steady sips of the refreshing liquid. "...M...Mark...I honestly...I didn't know..." In sync, both of our heads stare over at the stage, fixing our eyes onto the figure who is now present. There's flutters bouncing around the pit of my stomach, but they abruptly stop when I watch the way he acts on stage. There's something different about Gary. His jaw has tightened and his pupils are dilated, but not because he's noticed me...not yet he hasn't. His shoulders look tensed and his whole body is stiff looking, even more so when he takes a step towards the spotlight, and that's when I feel a crack form on my heart. Sticking out like a sore thumb underneath the very faint foundation which has been applied to his cheek as a cover up, it stands out crystal clear to my eyes, there sits a pinkish coloured bruise on the side of his cheek. Somethings wrong. Somethings terribly wrong.
"...Good...Good evening everyone." He forces out a smile. I need to speak to him, maybe he's in trouble? Maybe that was the point of the phone call?