Septiplier Oneshots

The A Team

Jack nods, about to go back to cleaning, but not before giving a chased kiss.

I remember all the times we had to clean up. All the chased kisses. I remember them, and I miss them.

"And they say
She's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us
'Cause we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And she don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly"

"Why do you like this song so much?" I questioned my boyfriend. My arms wrapped around his slim waist. The pale arms hanging around my neck as we swayed side to side. Back and forth.

"I like it because I can have these memories with you and myself. And its just a beautiful song I've loved for years Markimark." He answers, his eyes gazing into my own.

"I guess that's a good enough reason, love."

Slowing down our left to right motion, I remove one of my hands from his waist and placed it on his chin, angling it so his beautiful ocean blue eyes look up at my own eyes.

Leaning forward, our lips meet. Lips sliding over one another in our secret dance.

"Ripped gloves, raincoat
Tried to swim and stay afloat
Dry house, wet clothes
Loose change, bank notes
Weary-eyed, dry throat
Call girl, no phone"

I remember when Seán would would arrive home, water dripping from his cloths as he trudged his way through the front door. Of the sickly white colour his face would be when he came home.

Seeing him lay on the door, as I silently wait in the dark room.

I then remember hearing him start to sing. Just as I am about to sing the same part.

"And they say
She's in the Class A Team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking, wasting
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us
'Cause we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And she don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
An angel will die
Covered in white
Closed eye
And hoping for a better life
This time, we'll fade out tonight
Straight down the line"

As I sing the chorus again, I am unaware of the tears falling down my cheeks. Of the deathly quiet room.

The only thing I see is the love of my life. Seán. Of the last time I saw him alive.

I hear a knock on the door. Feeling curious, I wipe my hands and head to the door.

Upon opening the door, I see two officers. Both brown hair, brown eyes.

"Are you Mark Fischbach?"

"Yes I am. Is there a problem officers?" I question as I let them enter.

"Yes. I'm so sorry to tell you this, but Seán McLoughlin was killed."

I sit there in silence. Tears budding at my eyes.

After a short wait, I ask how it happened.

"He was killed by a drug dealer. We caught the man, he is as of this moment heading to prison for 30 years."

"We suspect he was paying for heroin, and it went wrong. I'm sorry for your loss."

The tears slip.

"Hey Marki , you know I love you?" Asked the little Irishman.

"Always. I love you boo."

"I love you too Markimark."

"It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly
To fly, fly
For angels to fly, to fly, to fly
For angels to die"