Barlowen {One Shots}

Barlowen {One Shots} {The Choice 1/1}

Unlike the studio, Mark Owen's little writing room at Delamere was not soundproofed. Gary had offered to get someone in to kit it out properly, more than likely his brother, but Mark had declined. He actually liked that he could hear the goings on in the house through the walls.

It was one thing about studios that had always unnerved him. How disconnected they were from the rest of reality. Unlike Gary Barlow who had grown up in a small town and never really lived more than a stones throw from the open countryside, Mark had been born and bred in the city. Yes alright he'd lived in Oldham, but by postcode only. He could have spat into a Manchester postcode from his bedroom window if he'd wanted to. Not that he ever had. The point was he'd always been around noise, and although he'd enjoyed the peaceful serenity of his house in the Lakes, he'd also found himself making noise just to fill the silence. His little studio there certainly hadn't been soundproofed, and he'd had something noisy in every room. A TV, a radio, a piano, a wind chime, a water feature, an executive toy; something, anything that could break the silence.

Now, anyone could be forgiven for thinking Delamere would suffer from the same excess of peace, and it did when there was nobody else home. The thing was, being alone in this house rarely ever happened. There was always someone in the house doing something, and with its age and construction, those sounds filtered through the entire building.

He liked that. He liked being able to sit in silence and still be able to hear the sounds of the house. The kids running around, Gary's heavier almost thumping footsteps, the murmur of a TV or Radio, bassy rhythms leaking from the studio.

Today though, being able to hear the sounds of the house made him edgy. He was grateful for it, but in a gut-clenchingly guilty way. Each creak of the floorboards in the hallway beyond the door made him tense, ready to close down what was on his screen in an instant should someone, should Gary, happen to walk in.

One foot braced on the leg of his desk, Mark leant back on his chair, tipping it dangerously as he re-read the words on his screen again and systematically destroyed each of his fingernails with his teeth.

The floorboard outside creaked again and Mark froze, thumb millimetres from his lips, his eyes darting to the door. Emily was at nursery. Daniel back at school after the summer break. Gary had set himself the task of sorting out his studio which had become something of a mess while he'd been distracted entertaining kids over the summer.

That was a lie. Gary's studio hadn't become anything of a mess. Gary was distracting himself. Finding things to do with his time now the kids were off his hands during the daytime and he had no work on. Mark would have offered to help, but Gary's studio was like his shed, and no man should invade another man's shed. He certainly shouldn't offer to help tidy it up. That was like the ultimate unwritten law of the man-code. Like sniffing around your best mates wife, or deliberately losing a game of darts because the other guy was having a crap day. It. Just. Was. Not. Done.

The footsteps outside grew closer but never slowed, passing his door without pause and trailing off as they headed towards the main house. Mark started to breathe again, his eyes ticking back to the screen in front of him. Back to the words standing out bold and bright black against stark accusing white. Block capital print and really terrible grammar.

MARKY!

ALBUMS AMAZING! FUCKIN LOVE IT!

DOCU? THEY SAID YOU WERE IN? ARE YOU? NOT FUCKIN' HAVING IT IF YOUR NOT.

CALL ME

ROB.

Somewhere in the man-code, Mark was pretty sure there were also whole sections on communicating with someone who had apparently made it their mission in life to utterly destroy your best friend / lover / partner's life. Well if not life, then at least his career. Yeah, he would put money on it. He would also put money on the fact that those sections would say much the same as they said about invading another man's shed. No. No. And a big fat 'are you insane? of course you don't!'