𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩

“Mama’s been spoiled by Ilaria and her ability to source fresh ingredients from Italy itself. No wonder she passed it on to someone.” he said with a roll of his eyes. There was no denying the Marino’s did have some of the finer things in life, they especially liked their food and it was hard to get authentic ingredients in the states. At least their connections enabled them enough. But not everyone was so lucky. As Mark offered to help tidy up the stock and shelves, Luca found himself nodding and smiling gratefully. “Sure thing. It shouldn’t take me long….well, if my cashiers actually did their job right.” he said with a laugh.

He stepped away from him and walked towards the doors. He turned the open sign to closed and quickly locked them. “Grazie.” he added, knowing he could trust Mark to do it the way he liked it. “But if I find those olives have gone walkies, then you’re morto.” he warned with a twinkle in his eye before biting his lip and turning to walk towards the back of the store.

If there was a slight bounce in his step as he made his way to the office, he wouldn’t think about what had put it there. Or more importantly, who. Or why the smile on his lips remained continuously as he worked his way through the days takings. He could still feel the tingles where Mark had touched him, like ghost prints against his skin and once he had finally finished the paperwork needed, he found himself idly tracing a finger over his other hand.

It was going to be hard, to keep the feelings he had stifled down but he also knew he couldn’t go without Mark again now he had let him back in. He felt like his heart was full once more, the Mark shaped fist which had filled it for three years healed once more. Man, he was screwed. After locking everything away and turning off the lights, he locked the office and headed back out to the main store. He grabbed himself a pack of chocolate turtles and a bag of candy which was Mark’s favourite and soon found the guy in one of the aisles.

“Good to go?” he asked, hiding the candy behind his back.

God, but he’d missed Luca and his absurd threats. 

And it wasn’t like his friend didn’t know what he was doing either, wielding his bilingualism like a weapon that would’ve brought a weaker man down to his knees. Mark only sighed dramatically, eyes rolling as he waved the man off with a poorly accented, “Yes, yes, I know the drill, tesoro.” The nickname came all too easily that he didn’t even have to think twice about it. In his lifetime, he’d called Luca a number of things, most of them words he’d forced the other to teach him in the name of romancing strangers. But in truth, he’d never used his limited Italian knowledge with anyone but his friend and his family.

And he knew it drove Luca up the wall. Topolino. Gattino. Patatino.

Luca had grumbled left and right after that particular Italian lesson, especially when Mark began throwing in diminutives in all the wrong words, testing combinations that sometimes lucked out and made sense, and other times only served to butcher the entire Italian language. It’d all been intentional, of course, because there was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing the fire in Luca’s eyes as he sought to defend the sanctity of his home language. That, and there was nothing quite like his best friend’s exasperation when Mark had stumbled into calling him his orsacchiotto. 

Mark grinned to himself, passing the time with ease as he finished fixing up the shelf to memories of Luca’s various horrified and outraged expressions. By the time his friend had emerged from the backroom and finished locking up the office, Mark was positively beside himself, thrumming with restlessness as he eyed the Uber marker on his phone. “Why, yes, my patatino.” His phone chimed then, and he wagged it impishly. “Figured better safe than sorry, so— our carriage awaits.”

A delighted squeal slipped past her lips as she returned the hug and pressed light kisses to each of his cheeks. “Ahh buonasera amica mia” she greeted jovially, moving up on the bench style seat to make room for Mark. “What can I say, I’m an angel?” she added, feeling a sense of completion now Mark was alongside her. She adored him, she also admired him and ever since his return and their mutual loss of a family member and dear friend she never wanted to let him out of her sight ever again. “I must say, you’re looking exceptionally nice this evening. Been anywhere special?”

Mark thrilled in the physical greeting, a palm pressing warmly to Ilaria’s back before they parted. As she slipped further down the bench, he took the opportunity to slide into the open space beside her, nearly finding it stolen by a passerby who eyed the bench covetously. Even when they’d been young, Ilaria had always drawn the attention of others; and Mark often thought himself highly fortunate that she even considered him a part of her inner circle of friends. “I could say the same to you, my dear. This, though?” he motioned to the plain shirt and dark jeans he wore. “You’re clearly flattering me. How’ve you been? What brings you out here tonight?”

dahlia normally introduced herself right away to people. even if she hadn’t been taught manners, she had them. at least she liked to think that she did. it wasn’t that big of a deal to her plus she figured she’d run into him again. obviously her thinking had been right given he had stumbled upon her at the park. she was shrugging, an amused look appearing,” not a bad thing,” she said with a laugh,” i’m not always the best with remembering to introduce myself.” she was shrugging and glancing around,” honestly i couldn’t sleep so that’s why i’m out here,” she explained, her eye brows arching up,” critique tinder dates? honestly a distraction is very much needed so i am game.” 

It was a gracious out, and Mark offered a warm smile in gratitude. “Let me warn you though: once you start, it gets a bit addictive and then you’ll wind up critiquing the ones you even go out with!” Palming his phone, Mark nimbly swiped his password in before pulling up the tinder application, a profile already pulled up as he held the phone between them. He cleared his throat dramatically before reading aloud, “Natalie. Twenty-nine. She says... ‘The last guy who swiped left on me aged so quickly he shriveled up into an old man skeleton thing before he turned to dust and died a swift yet horrifying death. He chose poorly.’ ...Well. Points for creativity and style, I guess. Thoughts?”

It wasn’t as if he wanted Mark’s touch, but he also wasn’t going to deny the warmth and sparks which came from it when his hand felt enclosed between both of Mark’s. Friends held hands, or touched sometimes, it happened. This would be okay. Or it would’ve been if he didn’t want to fuck it all to the wind and just live in the moment once. He made the terms, he had to stick with them. How weak would it make him if he broke them within minutes of being back in each others lives. 

Even when Mark dropped his other hand, he felt it like a burn on his skin. Yet he didn’t move his hand, if anything he tugged the can of olives and Mark’s remaining hand towards him at the same time Mark pushed the can towards him which ended up closing the gap some more between them both. “Stop insulting my olives, man, travelling has turned you into a snob.” he said with a chuckle. “And just so you know, Agnes loves my olives like this so I think I’ll keep them.” he added, placing the can back on the shelf.

This, they could do this. It would be fine. Already their sense of humor was coming back, their casual teasing. “I need to lock up and do some banking….did you want to get a drink or something after?” they could go to a bar, maybe La Luna, sit at their usual table. Just like before. 

Maybe there was some hidden wisdom in the phrase about lines being drawn in the sand. Because as easily as they’d drawn theirs together, it seemed that wiping it down and erasing it altogether was as simple as one well-timed gust of wind. Mark felt every bit as though he was toeing the line, one foot precariously balanced on his side of things while the other hovered an inch above going too far. It really didn’t help that this was the first time in three years that he’d been on the receiving end of Luca’s bright-eyed humor. Even Luca’s light teasing about his travels felt a little surreal, a little too good to be true. 

So, Mark watched, unabashedly fond as Luca returned the olive can to its home. The label glinted back at him in the low light, perfectly aligned with its neighbors in a manner that spoke of Luca’s attention to detail. It was ridiculous that he found himself missing even this, his envy for inanimate objects that received his friend’s particular brand of care. “It’s actually your mom who taught me this. Thanks to her, my mom won’t accept anything short of organic Whole Foods quality,” he shrugged, grinning to himself as he worked on fixing the remainder of the items on his shelf. 

“Lucky you, my schedule’s wide open. How about I finish here while you get your banking done?” He knew exactly how Luca preferred his shelves to look; it was just the desire to stay longer that had him ruining his friend’s hard work earlier. “Promise I won’t try and hide your olives if you leave me unsupervised.”

location: Hoopers with: open/anyone @charmingstarters​

“You’re welcome to join me, there’s plenty of space here.” she called out towards the person seemingly looking for a place to sit within the packed bar. Ilaria was waiting for some other friends to join her but she most certainly wouldn’t toss them aside when they did arrive. “Good day?” 

It was Day 5 into Mark’s efforts to seek wisdom at the bottom of a wine glass, and he was fairly sure—really, quite confident—that he was getting a little too old for the habit. Not only was the wisdom coming up short and his memories flaring up hotter and brighter in a way that wasn’t conducive to his ‘think of Luca as only a friend’ case, his liver had started a full-on protest and enlisted the bags under his eyes as its lieutenant. It wasn’t that Mark was particularly vain, but he did draw the line at looking less than completely put together whenever he went out in public. So: yes, he might not have emerged with any better idea about what to do when it came to Luca, but he was willing to give Hoopers’ two for one special one last go. The smile that he already wore only brightened as he caught sight of Ilaria, the long, sweeping curls of her tattoos a clear giveaway. “Lia, my savior,” he beamed, slipping over to her with an arm extended for a hug. “Much better now with you here.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you guys totally have a look,” Cliff said, letting out a laugh. “Hell yeah. Almost nine years now,” he replied before raising an eyebrow. “Damn, I hadn’t realized it had actually been that long,” Cliff murmured with a shake of his head. “We’re getting fucking old, man,” he muttered, letting out an indignant huff. If his mother was alive, Cliff knew she’d be telling him it was high time he should find himself a wife and settle down and knock some kids out, but even the mere thought of it made Cliff’s nose crinkle. “For good this time, I think. I joined the Devils,” Cliff said, proudly showing off the patch on his kutte which said ‘Road Captain’. “Ever since my dad and stepmom died, I figured that it’s high time I stick around and make sure my siblings don’t get into too much trouble, you know? Or at least, I’ll be around to bail them out if they do,” Cliff chuckled. “What about you? You sticking around here?”

Mark barked out a laugh at the mention of them getting old, the very thought preposterous if it weren’t for the fact that his back now ached after a night spent on the couch. When he was 20, he could’ve slept on the side of the road and still woken up feeling as fresh as a daisy. Now? Not so much. Still, it was the principle of the matter. “We’re in our prime,” he corrected airily, still flashing a grin at his friend. As they neared the food stand, Mark allowed his eyes to rove over the selection, stomach rumbling in appreciation of the smell of fried food. It was only at Cliff’s next words that his thoughts soured, brows lifting in surprise. “Ah—” he hadn’t had an issue with the Devils before, but since the incident three months ago, he’d done his damnedest to avoid the crowd. “Yeah,” he added after an awkward beat, somewhat at a loss for words. Thankfully, Cliff offered him an out just as quickly as he’d spun his mind in circles, and Mark hastily grabbed onto the chance to talk about anything else. “I think I’m done traveling for now. Looking to settle down, do the whole ‘adult’ thing and all. So far—well, I’ve got a memory foam bed, so things are on the up and up.” 

He thought maybe having them both agree to start afresh would lighten the weight in his heart but if anything, he instantly regretted it as the weight built heavier than before. It was like a line had finally been drawn in the sand between them, complete, set, final. Did he half expect Mark to fight against his decision, maybe, but he agreed and now Luca would have to work on himself to stifle the emotions and attraction already rising their ugly yet beautiful heads from the depths he had buried them. 

The tension felt thick between them and Luca was debating what he had to say next. How did people do this? Did you open with a joke? A story? An anecdote? But he was saved from having to figure out how to navigate this new position between them when Mark picked up the can and for the first time in a long while he felt a genuine snort of laughter fill the air between them and the beginning of a genuine, warm smile. 

“Hey, we cater for all here. Not everyone has the hook up to imported Greek and Italian olives. Put them back-” he said, reaching out to grab the can from Mark, fingers overlapping his own and the words stuck in his throat. 

The fresh start was going about as well as Mark could’ve expected, which was to say that it wasn’t, and that, moreover, there was a raging dumpster fire where his resolve used to be. If he were a magical being who could’ve bottled anything in the world and taken it with him on his travels, there was no doubt that he’d choose Luca’s laughter: bright, lively, and brimming with feelings of home and things being just right. It was why this entire situation was careening so horribly off the path he was trying to put together, a railroad track mess that seemed to be leading his emotions right back to Luca with all the force of a freight train. 

And then there was the hand on his, the fingertips ghosting over his skin, the goosebumps left in their wake. Mark wasn’t a very religious man, but hell if he wasn’t praying to a deity above in that moment. For strength? Willpower? Self-restraint? Yeah, he decided, definitely all three. ‘Because there was Tabitha,’ he reminded himself, ‘and starting over.’ He couldn’t give his word and summarily break it at the first laugh, much less at an innocent touch. 

With a slight shake of his head, Mark huffed a theatrical breath. “Maybe, but this is a travesty, Luca.” His answering grin was genuine, free hand lifting to clasp the back of Luca’s hand as he pressed the can forward. “Please, who’s even buying this? Don’t tell me you’re ordering it for Agnes down the street.” He released his hold, waved airily at the object again. “I understand catering to everyone, but you really need to draw the line here. I can’t in good conscience let you sully your reputation like this.”

—

wally sighed in relief and glanced back at his poor, poor vehicle. it had served him well. abandoning it on the side of the road didn’t feel very good. this car that had shepherded him back and forth time and time again deserved a more dignified end. “you know, probably not? but like…i don’t know what to do about it.” he looked back through the passenger side window and grimaced in a tight smile ( a damn good impression of the emoji, in fact ). “I guess if it sets on fire then it uh…would be best to not be standing by it.” wally paused and scratched at his neck. “i guess i have half a gatorade in the front seat…should i pour it in under the hood or something? would that make it worse? like, logically, it seems like it might. but also you know if something is hot best option would be to cool it…theoretically.” mm, but damn. he kind of wanted to finish that gatorade. it was the blue one. the best one.

The longer the conversation went, the more Mark began to realize how ill-equipped he was to help someone with automobile issues. Worse, it was calling to mind how much more he probably should’ve read up on in preparation for his own self-bought, new, and shiny car. Shit. “Gatorade?” he echoed, brows rising so far up they were making a clear gambit for his hairline. “I mean... It’s a liquid, and that sounds like something that would cool down your car, but—” He shut off his engine and shifted to fish his phone from his pocket. “Hold on.” They didn’t exactly have the luxury of time with the smoke billowing so ominously, but Mark was sure they could at least spare 30 seconds for the Google gurus of their world. The more he scrolled down the list of answers, however, the more he wondered if the man before him wasn’t some kind of intuitive genius. “So,” he glanced up, expression a perfect reflection of his surprise. “Turns out Gatorade’s one of the best things you can use. I’ll, ah, wait while you do that.” 

It felt like dying embers against his skin, the brief brush on fingertips against his knuckles giving just enough warmth to comfort but also alight in his heart remembering how it felt to be touched by those hands when they danced. No amount of anger could keep Mark now excluded from his life. He needed him like a man needed oxygen. 

Even if he found it hard to trust the words he uttered about not leaving. It would always be there, that niggling doubt and fear that Mark would get itchy feet to leave again. If he was truthful, he didn’t know what he wanted now. From Mark or from what they could give each other. In another way, even if he wanted something more, he couldn’t put Mark in the position if Luca couldn’t even face the idea of coming out. He was nearing thirty two, his mama wasn’t as patient as before. The expectation looming over him was a weight he carried and who would he be but a hypocrite to ask something of Mark when he couldn’t give it back publicly. 

“I forgive you.” it’s all he could say, at least it’s what he could give him. “If you can forgive me also. For not being more forwards or making things….clearer or for making you want to leave in the first place.” Friends, maybe they could do friends. That was safe and held no weight. Luca could learn to love another, he could settle and keep Mark in his life. 

Coldness ghosted over his skin, aware Mark had dropped his hand from his and Luca cleared his throat, releasing his hold on Mark and took a step back. “Maybe we should start afresh. As friends. Because we can’t pretend everything is okay and go back to how we were-” he paused, tongue pressed against his teeth and he looked away from him. “-….or be more.”

It was what he’d hoped for: them talking, healing old wounds, making up and moving on. And yet— Mark couldn’t place it, the way his chest continued to expand with emotion, the way his throat constricted around unsaid words, the way he mourned a friendship he’d just regained. Because that was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it? He’d asked for this second chance, and he was getting it. It just wasn’t how he imagined it to be.

Start afresh.

Spoken so carefully, so tentatively into the silence of the room, Luca’s words landed with all the precision of a punch; and like that, Mark felt his stomach plummet through the center of the earth. He didn’t think he could do that: tidy up their memories and shove it all in a box, start anew when their past kept him grounded in the present. It was a lie to say that he could fake apathy, that distance had held any bearing on his feelings for his best friend.

(“Are you finally coming home? You'd think after a few years, you'd start missing it,” his mother had asked, voice crackling in his ear.

“Mm.” He’d thumbed at a creased photo, gaze lingering on all too familiar hazel eyes. “I missed home before I even left, and I don't think I ever stopped.”)

He was selfish, always had been, but he could do better. And if Luca wanted them to drop their history, to begin again, to stifle all his expired hopes and pointless wishes, then Mark was helpless but to give him exactly that. “Sure,” he spoke then, voice soft, smile awkwardly forced, “yeah, that’s—” terrible? awful? a step forward and simultaneously a dozen back? “—I can do that.”

He bent then, plucked a can from one of the lower shelves and turned it in his hand. “For the record, you have nothing to apologize for,” he added, quieting the ache in his chest with a shove, a lock, a turned key. “ ...except for the fact that you’re carrying canned olives.”

dahlia didn’t know what else to say considering what had happened. she just didn’t want to be dishonest. it was hard to miss his reaction once she explained exactly what had happened. she was shrugging as she watched him drop down beside her. she was shrugging as she glanced around,” not really a surprise, i should just stick with the hook ups on tinder.” she was mostly kidding but she had the feeling she was done opening herself up. she was glancing back towards him, wondering why he had decided to stick around. though she shot him a small smile when he introduced himself,” nice to meet you mark,” she paused,” i’m dahlia and i’m kind of shocked we didn’t introduce ourselves sooner.” 

Mark looked entirely chastised by the reminder that he hadn’t introduced himself sooner. His mother had certainly raised him better than that, so he really couldn’t say what it was that’d stopped him from asking her name sooner. Maybe it was meeting one client after the next that Valentine’s day, or maybe it had to do with the fact that he’d been so on board with Dahlia’s burgeoning love story that he hadn’t paid much attention to manners. Either way: bad. “That’s on me.” He rubbed at the nape of his neck, abashed. “But I’m glad I ran into you again so I could fix it. I hope I’m not interrupting anything, though? Unless you want to critique tinder dates together—that happens to be a pasttime of mine.” 

“I’m cooler than the movies.” Jack added before taking a sip of the drink in front of her. She was tired. It was showing her eyes and weighing her down. This wasn’t over seas tired, but a few more days like this and she may found herself there. Lack of sleep for Jack meant all her demons started to peak. “I should be off tomorrow so long as I don’t get called in. I’d like that, are you there tomorrow as well?”

Mark may have only known Jack for a short period of time, but he knew what exhaustion and overwork looked like intimately. Of course, Jack looked as illustrious as always (and he sincerely doubted that anything—unknown ER fluids or otherwise—could change that), but it wasn’t hard to pick out the fatigue that lingered in the corner of her eyes. “Good thing I’ve got you in my corner, huh?” he teased, then tapped a finger against his pint glass in decision. “I can be there tomorrow, but if you’re busy, I don’t mind waiting it out another week or two. You know, build up the anticipation of all that artwork, right?” 

FOOD

cherry or strawberry / coffee or tea / chocolate or vanilla / salty or sweet / crunchy or chewy / pudding or yogurt / warm or cold drinks / bland or spicy / ice cream or frozen yogurt / fruits or vegetables / honey or jam / cheese or chocolate / fried rice or pasta / cupcakes or cake / pancakes or waffles / burgers or fries / beer or wine / nachos or tacos

RELATIONSHIPS

love letters or poems / kisses on the nose or kisses on the forehead / sex on the first date or wait / sending pick up lines or sending memes / slide into DMs or comment / flings (previously) or relationships (now) / holding hands or interlinking arms / dinner and a movie or something adventurous / flowers or chocolate / words of affirmation or acts of service / soft and sweet or rough and hard (they both have a time and place) / good night text or good morning text / good listener or good kisser

DREAM HOME

wooden floors or tiled floors / white/painted walls or wallpapered walls / pond or pool / bathtub or shower / modern/minimalistic furniture or vintage/antique furniture / airconditioner or fan / curtains or roman blinds / flowers or succulents / plenty of pillows or few pillows / paintings on the walls or shelves / coffee maker or microwave / record player or bluetooth speakers / thick blankets or thin blankets

SUMMER

forest green or ocean blue / chilly sunrises or warm sunsets / empty country roads or small town main streets / wheat fields or groves of apple trees / lemonade or iced tea / late night stargazing or early morning walks / camping with friends or staying in alone / sunny days or rainy afternoons / road trip or boat ride / sunrise or sunset

LIFESTYLE

instagram or twitter / iOS or android / big party or small gathering / new clothes or new phone / swimming or hiking / bath or shower / couch or recliner / living close to the in-laws or living far away from the in-laws / passenger or driver / tablet or computer / toilet paper: over or under / piercings or tattoos / brainteasers or board games / library or museums

MISCELLANEOUS

Nik: Maybe if I keep it on loop up there I'll create a tear in time when I can go back to when he was ten. Ten was a good age.

Nik: All he cared about was pokemon, his first drum set and pizza. Take me back.

Nik: You just said the magic words.

Mark: If I took you back, you'd have to live through giving him this talk again

Mark: Speaking of— imagine if you had whole Groundhog's day situation going on. Talk about a nightmare!

Mark: Still there?

It wasn’t as if Luca hadn’t tried. Every minute he hadn’t been with his family, he had been with Mark. It was always the both of them. How many near misses had there be, maybe if Luca had made the move he had so desperately wanted too for so many years they wouldn’t be where they were right now. Maybe if he had made his intentions known, Mark wouldn’t have left. Who knew who was really to blame. For years there had always been something unspoken, more than friends, less than lovers. Luca rarely dated in the time that he’d known Mark, perhaps the odd date here and there thanks to his mom but never really putting effort into making a relationship with someone because in his eyes there had only ever been one. 

Mark.

Even now, with his anger forefront a part of him wanted to take what he wanted. He wanted to forgive him, to just grab him and kiss him and put the entirety of his twenty plus years of yearning and love into showing Mark just what he meant to him. But another part kept him back. Maybe they never were meant to be, surely if they were right for each other fate, god, destiny or whoever was in real charge would’ve intervened. Could they even come back from this? The time he had spent locking away any and all thoughts of love and feelings for Mark had been a long, tiring, emotional ride and he just didn’t think he could go back so easily. 

“I-” he began, trying to find the words he needed and struggling to structure what was going on in his head. “-I’m not who I was three years ago, Mark. And neither are you and I don’t think….no, I know, things can’t ever go back to how they were. You never were one to….stay here, whereas I’ve finally resigned myself to the idea of being here the rest of my life and I can’t bare the thought of letting you back in only for you to….to just wake up one day and go again. It hurts too much and-”

Although something told him not too, he couldn’t help but reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, turning Mark to face him fully. “-I won’t be that sad, pathetic idiot begging you to stay.”

He didn’t think it would hurt. 

It was a ridiculous thought, of course, given how just about anything to do with Luca nowadays felt like he was taking a pestle to the soft, fleshy organ in his chest. (Like grinding his heart, wearing it thin, crushing bits of it into ash.) The expectation was the worst of it. It was the hope that things might return to how they were and the thought that words might make a difference that kept Mark rooted to the spot, that had him turning at the press of a warm hand on his shoulder. He wanted to sway into it, wanted to grab that hand like a lifeline, wanted to drag Luca back to where they’d stood together, three years ago. 

“Luca.” He didn’t resist the urge this time, his arm moving of its own accord: elbow bending, hand raising, fingertips grazing the knuckle on his shoulder. “You’re not any of those things that you’ve called yourself.” Mark didn’t know how the words came out as steady as they did when he felt so unmoored, like he was one perfectly timed wave away from being dragged beneath the depths of Luca’s feelings. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, and I know nothing I say can change the way I made you feel for,“ —God, a year? Two?— “so long, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I ran, and I left, and that was a shitty thing to do.” 

Regret surged so keenly he felt it in the back of his throat, like bile he couldn’t force down or away. His throat worked, voice softening as he spoke, “I don’t plan to leave. I know that doesn’t mean much anymore, but I want to stay.” Dropping his hand back to his side, Mark offered a wan smile, nothing light to be found in the expression. “And I’d like if I could still see you again, but I understand if that’s not what you want.”

Location: street just outside of town

Open to: anyone

wally had many regrets in his life. they varied by the day and the situation, but today his main regret was that he’d never bothered learning anything more about a car than that you had to put gas in it to make it go. he’d pulled over to the side of the road when smoke started billowing out of the front hood, and now he was standing in the middle of the road, trying to signal down the next person who happened to drive by. when he saw headlights, he waved his hands and stood directly in the middle of the road (risk seemed to be less than the payoff, right?) “hey there,” he shouted, skip-hopping to the side as the car slowed. “yeah, hi, uh—so the car is fucked, as they say. or at least to me because i don’t know anything about cars. i mean i know that kitty litter can help ya get your tires out of a snow bank but that doesn’t really help me…here.” he looked back toward his smoking engine and then to the person that he’d stopped. “uh, d’ya know anything about cars? or could you maybe give me a lift?”

Mark knew as much about cars as the average driver who’d been gifted a hand-me-down as a teenager, which was to say: no, he absolutely had no idea about vehicle maintenance beyond a) how to fill up gas, and b) how to drive it to get serviced when the check engine light came on. But he also believed in being a good samaritan, so there wasn’t much to stop him from pulling over in his relatively new Honda Civic. He might not have known much about cars, but he knew that they weren’t meant to emulate campfires. Whatever was going on with this stranger’s car couldn’t have been good if it looked like he could smoke a perfect marshmallow beneath the hood. “Sorry, not much help on the smoke signals front,” he called out from the open passenger door window. “But a lift I can do.” Mark leaned over to shove the door open, before he thought better of the action and asked, “...should you be leaving your car like that though? What if it sets on fire?”

maybe she should have just stayed at her place but it had started to feel like the walls were closing in. there were a few people she could text but she didn’t want to be a bother. she was unsure what had made her call out the way she had. maybe it was because of how out of i she felt. she was going to sit up when she realized that he was walking over. it took her a moment to realize who it was, the artist that she had run into at the valentine’s day celebration,” um,” she paused,” it didn’t go.” she didn’t see the point in lying,” it was a mistake but the portrait was nice.” 

Mark’s brows wrinkled at her admission, the only sound escaping him a soft “ah” of empathy. Not quite what he’d hoped to hear and probably all the worse for her to be reminded of it. He felt a bit like an ass now and could only grimace to himself as he dropped down beside her on the grass, an arm coming to prop against a knee. “Sorry to hear that.” He gestured vaguely as though to say, ‘sorry for asking in the first place.’ If there was anything he understood intimately, though, it was to avoid pressing at topics that still hurt; and while he wouldn’t presume to know what she felt in that moment, he certainly didn’t want to make things any more awkward. "Never got to introduce myself last time. I’m Mark. You?” 

          ‘  all  i’m  saying  ,   is  that  chefs  and  bartenders  know  what  they’re  doing  if  you  go  to  the  right  place !  they  got  the  science  slash  food  bud  knowledge  shit  down  .   i  could  never  ,   i’m  lucky  i  don’t  burn  pasta  .  ’    it  is  an  incredible  feat  indeed  for  her !   and  talks  quick  ,   words  flowing  from  her  mouth  as  if  it’s  her  only  duty  on  this  earth  ,   chuckling  .    ‘  to  be  fair  -  i  may  have  been  distracting  him  with  a  story  time  but  that’s  what  we  always  do  on  rounds !  i’m  happy  to  say  that  both  the  kid  and  the  cat  made  it  in  one  piece  -  though  we  did  both  get  a  whole  ass  lecture  from  the  captain  .   annoying  -  at  least  all  parties  were  okay !  ’  

“I’m glad everyone made it out unharmed then,” he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in obvious delight. There was something infectious about her energy, the way she impressed emotions into every word. Mark liked that. And, of course, it helped that she’d rescued him from what had looked to be an agonizingly boring afternoon. “Seems like storytelling’s something you enjoy. You mentioned your partner and captain, so I’m guessing your work isn’t in writing? Or is that more of a side gig? Because,” he paused, holding up the empty drink lid in a faux cheers, “believe me, you could have a career in that too.”