ONESHOTS - Markicest, Darkstache, & More

Mute Keys - Markicest

OLD WRITING

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"N-NO, I'LL BE w-working t--then," Mark managed into the phone speaker, talking to one of his friends, Jack. "How d-does Sund-day sound?" There was a mumble in his ear as he walked down the busy streets of LA, heading to a sweet little cafe by the name of 'mutiny.'

Sun was shining down, baking the streets and raising the temperature. People walked to and fro, some walking leashed dogs or chatting with their friends. Mark was still talking to his Irish friend on the phone, glancing around the busy sidewalks as he spoke.

"A d-double da-te?" he muttered, heat spreading across his features. "Y-you know I'm not se-eing anyone." There was a teasing phrase on the line. "How a-about I bring a f-friend; c-an Tyler c-come?"

Mark barely dodged a bicycle as it flew past him. "O-okay, that s-sounds go-od. 5 P.M?" The male rounded a corner, the small cafe in view. He smiled, ready to hang up. "S-see you then."

The male looked down as he slipped his phone into his pocket, yelping when he bumped into someone. Coffee was spilt, and a feeling of dread washed over Mark. People in this busy city could be bity.

"Oh G-God, I'm so s-sorry!" he spluttered, wide eyes looking up into calm crimson. His throat went dry, face heating up as the newcomer, dressed in an excellent suit that was just ruined, kindly smiled at him. He made a waving hand gesture as if saying 'it's okay,' picking up the coffee cup and throwing it away in the nearest waste bin. The man in the suit brushed himself of the hot beverage, waving a small goodbye to Mark; the gesture gave him some confusion.

"W-wait!" he called, making the stranger stop. "I'm r-really sor-ry, please let m--me get you a n-new one." The man shook his head, kindly smiling again. But before he could head off, Mark grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. "I-I feel re-ally bad, I really a-am sorry," he apologized under his breath. The stranger looked down at him with a blank look an interested toddler would wear, eyes staring and face relaxed.

The cafe was bustling with customers, all of their voices a loud murmur. Mark hastily retrieved some napkins, face burning red as he shyly handed them to the stranger.

"S-sorry. . . again. . . that's s-such a nice s-suit," he mumbled as the man took the napkins, lightly drying himself off. Mark stared at the other, admiring his features-- the glossy raven hair; those piercing yet calm scarlet eyes; a wonderfully set frame. He quickly snapped out of it. "Ah! I-I'll get your coffee n-now, w-what did you. . . h-have before?"

The stranger slipped out a piece of paper, handing it to Mark. He already knew that trying to decline the stuttering male's offer was futile.

Mark nodded, gripping the paper that read 'black coffee, please.' He ignored the odd fact why someone would write down such a simple order. "O-okay, I'll b-be right b-back," he said, quickly heading off into line. The stranger watched him, an amused smile on his face. He headed over to one of the tables for two, pulling out a small, worn notebook and a pen. A few moments later, Mark returned with a cup of steaming black coffee.

"H-here you go," he muttered shyly, eyes downcast. The stranger smiled, giving a thankful nod and motioning for the other to sit. Mark's face went red. "Y-you want me to sit?" The man nodded, and Mark hesitated before sitting in front of him.

"I--uhm--" The stranger lifted up a finger with a small smile, and Mark instantly shut himself up. Pen gracefully gliding across the paper, the man wrote a quick note, turning it towards Mark. The male blinked, glancing at the stranger before reading it.