Oneshot is based off this fanart I made of Wil, hehe... if you want to see more art, it's on my Instagram @/sheeraayame 😌
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The restaurant swelled with clinking cutlery and overlapping chatter. Dimmed lights hung from the ceilings like jewels, coating the restaurant in a dark, reddish hue, and every surface was polished and shined to a pristine quality.
Waiters rushed to and fro with metal trays and bottles of wine, noise rattled through the kitchen doors when they swung open and closed, and the people dining filled every booth and seat with expensive smiles and charming glances.
The only empty seat was the one across from Dark.
Dark Edwards, a stern and reserved man, sat with his fingers tapping impatiently on the crimson, cloth-covered table. He'd gotten himself ready for tonight—dressed himself in his signature, all black suit with velvet collar; slicked his hair back, which revealed the sharp cut of his jaw and the intensity of his eyes. He tilted his phone on top of the table, and when it glowed to life, there were still no messages. No signs of his date.
He sighed, and he opened his phone, swiping through his contacts. A few moments later, the phone was at his ear, and the purring tone of the call filled his senses.
Dark glanced around the restaurant as he waited for a response, watching the other dinner guests through disinterested eyes. Glasses clinked, smiles dazzled and jewelry glittered, and the smoky aroma of food wafted in the air.
He glanced the other way, towards a brighter side of the restaurant. It was the barside, lit in a way that boasted its endless array of fine alcohols. There was a commotion stirring from there—a swell of whistles and murmurs—but with the divider that separated the bar from the restaurant, he couldn't see what the cause for it was.
He caught a slurring laugh—a flick of chocolate-colored hair and something sparkling and red. But before he could try to discern what, or who, it was, the call picked up, and Dark's attention snapped onto his phone.
"Mark," he said, turning back in his seat. "Where are you?"
"Look, Dark, I'm—sorry, but I can't go tonight," said Mark through the line.
"What?" said Dark, brows furrowed. "You told me you were free today." His fingers tightened over his phone. "We both, agreed to meet here a week ago."
A sigh came through the line, and Dark's lips curled into a frown.
"I... I know..." said Mark. "But..."
"But what?" said Dark with a scoff, leaning back in his seat. A few dinner guests looked his way—or maybe he was imagining it—but he couldn't care less. "I value my time, Mark. I thought Xilef told you this. I'm a busy man."
"Yeah, a-and... well, that's..." Mark started.
Dark sighed, and he rested his elbows on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose. The chatter around him rose, and murmurs of interest swelled in the restaurant, but he was too involved in the call to notice.
