Danti One Shots

•Finding A Way•

He tapped away on his keyboard furiously. The words poured from his mind and into the document he had opened on his computer almost an hour ago. The bright screen lit up his mousy brown hair and tired face in the dark room. Anti gulped down the rest of his coffee and quickly wiped away a rogue drop of the dirty bean water the dribbled down his chin. A few more clicks and he finally stopped his strained fingers from typing. His eyes skimmed over the papers. Anti moved a hand to the mouse and guided the curser up to the print button. Though, right when he was about to print it, a notification popped up in the corner of the monitor.

Printer out of ink.

Anti cursed loudly and grabbed a fist full of his already disgruntled hair. He had stayed up all night trying to finish that essay. Of course his printer decided to shit on him when he finally had things going good. Anti sighed and sat there for a moment before finally deciding to get up and go to Walmart. It was the only store he knew stayed open 24/7 that he had a chance getting printer ink at. Anti slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys, taking a second to try and tame his messy beard. He sped walked out the door, punched the lobby button in the elevator a few times, sped walked again out of the entrance of the apartments and got lost in the parking lot trying to find his car. He groaned when he couldn't find it. How hard was it to find a sliver Toyota in a tiny parking lot? He could have sworn he didn't park it on the street again. "Hey! Wondering where your car is?" Anti jerked around to see another man walking towards him. He suddenly felt small and under dressed compared to the man that had addressed him. "Yeah, have any idea where it might be?" He replied dryly. The man threw his thumb back, pointing to the street. "It got towed. Apparently you had parked in a handicapped space." Anti wouldn't doubt that he looked like a fish with its mouth agape, searching for any means of breath, whereas he was looking for any means of another explanation of what happened to his car. His only means of transport and getting his essay turned in on time to his professor. He absolutely could not have another late assignment. If he did, well, he would have to look forward to a future of being a single 40 year old man living off of government cheese.

The man noticed his distress and scratched his chin. "You need a ride anywhere?" Anti threw his arms up in the air. "Well, unless you can somehow pop another car out of you ass, I won't be going anywhere!" The man visibly flinched. "Wow, okay. Wasn't expecting you to be so harsh, I was leading up to asking if I could drive you to where you need to be." Anti mentally slapped himself. This stranger was just trying to help, yet he was so mad at himself that he had forced all of the pent up anger onto somebody that didn't deserve it. "Oh... I'm sorry man. I didn't mean- God, I've been such a fuck up lately that I just snapped. I swear, I'm not usually like this. I'm really sorry." He stumbled over his words a little. The man just smiled. "Hey, it's alright. I've been in your shoes before. Where exactly do you need to go?"

"Walmart?"

"That'll be no problem."

Anti couldn't help but let out a blissfull grin full of unimaginable bewilderment that this complete stranger had offered him a ride, even after he had just finished being a dickhead. "Thank you so much- uh, didn't catch your name?" He swung out his hand awkwardly. This is how normal people greeted eachother, right? Share names, handshake, and then be done? "Dark. And yours?" Dark shook Anti's clammy hand. "Anthony Williams, but I much rather preferred to be called Anti!" Dark chuckled. "You don't get out much, do you?" He lowered his hand back down to his side, Anti quickly doing the same, realising that he must have kept the handshake going on for too long. "Is it that obvious?" With a nod, Dark turned his feet and started off towards his own car. "Come along now. We shall start our quest to the Walmart!" Dark called out over his shoulder.

Anti shrugged and followed his weird strut to the other side of the parking lot. There was always a chance of Dark being a deranged serial killer, but he honestly couldn't give two shits about what could happen at the moment. He was in the mood where what happened, happened. Serial killer or not though, Anti was going to get that printer ink. Through hell or high water.

Oof, I haven't been very active lately, but my anxiety sure has, and my tendency to procasinate. I'll try to get myself back into a schedule again and finish up a request and the ongoing one shots. I'll try to get the next chapter up for Staid and Fatuous, and hopefully soon. Anyhow, hope this keeps you tided over for a little longer. And until next time, see ya my dudes