Author's Note: Heya! A lot of people have recently let me know that they're enjoying this fic. :) That's the only thing that keeps me writing - my readers. So keep on letting me know if you want more! Lots of Barlowen love, x.

"Where did you get that mask Gaz?"

Gary blinked and looked up at Robbie. He'd been daydreaming.

"W- what mask?"

"That grumpy one you're wearing now."

Robbie stopped suddenly and pointed at Gary with a mock gasp. "Oh no wait, that's your actual face. Christ, sorry mate." Robbie's high pitched giggle did nothing to cheer Gary up. In fact, he felt worse than before. Mark was asleep upstairs, probably looking like an angel. Gary thought back to all the times they'd shared a hotel room as friends back in the 90's. He used to laugh because they slept in completely opposite ways. Gary usually lay straight on his front, arms tucked neatly under his pillow, whereas Mark would lie on his back, arms splayed out above his head or sometimes with one arm hanging off the side of the mattress.

"Mate?"

"Oh yeah, sorry Rob. I'm just a bit knackered actually. It must be the jetlag… even though I've been here for a while now. I can't cope without an adequate amount of sleep, me."

"Okay Captain Barlow. Why don't you have a lie-down like Mark then?" Robbie said, absent-mindedly grabbing himself a slice of cake and settling down on the sofa. It didn't take long before he was totally engrossed in some irritating reality TV programme on his gigantic plasma screen.

Gary rolled his eyes, stood up - unnoticed by Robbie – and crept up the stairs. He glanced in a few of the rooms, nodding appreciatively at his friend's choice of décor. Very cool, very modern but yet still homely and pleasant. It had to be. Typical Rob.

The last room Gary came to had its door shut. He shifted it open quietly and peered in. Mark was there under the crisp, white sheets of a small double bed. This must be one of the many guest rooms.

Gary padded almost silently over to the bed, making sure every one of his steps was muffled into the carpet. He then knelt down on the floor beside the bed and watched Mark's sleeping form intently. He brought a hand up and brushed a strand of Mark's unruly brown hair from his face, before smiling sadly and clasping his hands together in his lap.

"Oh Markie," he whispered, his head tilting slightly as he observed the younger man's long lashes, his cute upturned nose, his parted lips and the slight glimpse of those sparkling teeth. Mark slept so soundly and more peacefully than anyone Gary had ever witnessed. Mark looked, dare he think it, even more gorgeous than Dawn. A sick feeling was rising up in Gary's stomach and he couldn't control it. He immediately got up and ran out, holding on to the banister tightly as he descended the stairs. He genuinely didn't know if he was going to throw up or not. The thing that was disturbing him now was the knowledge that his life could change forever. He thought about his kids first and foremost… His incredible son and his two precious daughters. Then he thought about Dawn... The woman with whom he had wanted to spend his whole life with. Gary closed his eyes when he reached the foot of the stairs. He thought about his career - the glittering success he'd achieved with Take That. Yes, he'd had humiliation afterwards, (no hits, getting fat, getting depressed, Robbie's constant need for a scathing public battle, etc.) but the rise again when Take That reformed was a beautiful thing. His whole world of music, lyrics, tours, parties and friends opened up once again. He was Gary Barlow. Top songwriter in the UK and member of the biggest British manband.

He opened his eyes and began to refocus on his surroundings. How could he possibly work with Mark Owen ever again after what happened? He wanted to keep ignoring him now. He wanted to drive Mark so mad that the other man would turn away and never look back. He wanted to run away himself… right now... to another world where Mark Owen can't play with his emotions.
Gary's heart was pounding in his chest and he was beginning to perspire, despite the air-conditioned house. He thought about that forbidden afternoon on his sofa and suppressed a moan. It had felt so good. So, so good. He would never admit it to Mark though. Nope, no way. Because it was a complete mistake, right?

A mistake. Stupid mistake.

Gary ran his hand over his face and then round to the back of his neck. He was tense and although he'd never been much of a crier, he did feel like sobbing right there and then.

He'd made a shambles of the life he'd always wanted - The life he had now. Deep down, the only thing he wanted in his life now was Mark. And let's face it, Gary thought, his eyes staring at the floor as his mind dreamt somewhere else, I can never have him.