Status: my very first fic here!
Your Slightest Look
05
Ángela was watching Mark's videos, holding her stomach as tears ran through her cheeks and lungs screamed for air. She hadn't laughter as hard in a very long time, and she couldn't stop. The videos were light, funny, and Mark's frustration was tangible and absolutely hilarous.
He was the same as she remembered - the funny impersonations, the dramatic movements and his voice. It was something that had always called out to her; his deep, baritone voice. She stayed the morning of the 28th watching his videos and vlogs, sipping on a hot beverage and laughing loudly.
She had to go back the next morning, and although the thought made her nervous, she wanted to see Mark again. Back in Effie's, it had seemed as if nothing had changed - as if, by some miracle, they were back in High School and he was trying to get her to understand her math homework while she sipped on a vanilla milkshake.
She touched the screen, amazed at the amount of people who realized how amazing Mark was. His fans were lovely, they really were. They all supported him through everything and they also helped each other. Ángela wasn't surprised that Mark would have a fanbase like that.
Her phone's screen lit up, and she grasped it distractedly as she giggled at the Turbo Dismount video she was currently watching. His friend, Bob, was there with him, laughing wildly. She felt elated that he had good friends, too. When she looked at her phone, she was surprised to see a text from Mark himself.
From Mark:
I'm going back to LA the 30th, when are you leaving?
To Mark:
2morrow, y?
From Mark:
The conservatory's open tonight. Wanna come?
The conservatory? She hadn't been there since High School. Christ, he probably hadn't been back there since the last time they went together, either. Wouldn't it be strange, though? She wondered if he'd bring Amanda, or someone else.
To Mark:
KK! Hvn't been thr n a long time!
From Mark:
\o/
See you at six!
Ángela found herself remembering those days when Mark was the only one who went with her to the conservatory, much before Kevin or even Felix. The both of them had wondered what the inside of the greenhouse would be like until Professor White had caught them with gaping mouths. He'd let them in, did so for the rest of the year, and he sat them at one of the benches while he played them a song or two.
The conservatory was actually where Ángela found her passion for music. She'd spend hours listening to Professor White, the young man teaching her all she needed to know about music. He'd been kind to her, when Mark was gone and she was changing and nobody knew what to call her so they just left. He'd been her moral support until Felix came into the picture closely, like a friend who'd always been there.
She felt bad that she hadn't visited Professor White for so long, but maybe she could make it up to him. Looking at the corner of the room, she quickly made her way to her guitar and placed the instrument in her lap. A wave of sadness crashed against her, eroding her bones for a second when she stroked with a thumb the words her father had carved with much love into the wood.
'May your life be always moving yet never breaking, it read.
Her father had been a writer. He's taught her how to love and cherish books, which she greatly did - but it had always been poetry the art that called out to her, instead of prose. She'd spend entire days reading dead poets and drinking words in like the finest wine, and when she understood music she realized it'd been her calling. Her mother hadn't liked it one bit. Her father had been as happy as he could be.
She played for a while a bit of Jack Johnson before washing her face and reapplying her makeup, grabbing her coat and leaving the room. The day wasn't as sunny as she would've liked, but it was the best she could get when it was December.
He was standing by the entrace, hands in his pockets and eyes on the ground as he scrubbed his shoe against the dirt. He looked every bit as handsome as he did the previous night, and she smiled as she hugged her coat closer to the body. Mark looked up.
"Hey," he grinned.
"Hey," she muttered softly for no reason at all.
The Conservatory was alive with colored lights and beautiful music already drifting. Stands of food and a great amount of people flowed through the grounds.
"Didn't know there was a festival going on," she told him, slightly uncomfortable because she thought it'd be a quiet night. She wasn't exactly in the best mood, not after remembering her dad.
"Yeah, I thought we could check it out," Mark's voice enthralled her so much, it melted everything inside her. "I don't know if Professor White's still working here, but if the greenhouse isn't closed, we could maybe go inside? For old time's sake?"
"I'd really like that," she confessed.
"Alright then, so," he lifted his elbow and she stared at it, startled. "I just made a fool out of myself, didn't I?"
"No!" she blushed, looping her arm around his. Jesus christ, he'd been doing weights, hadn't he? "I just - I hadn't expected that."
Mark winced as they started walking, passing stands. Ángela recognized various melodies as they drifted to her ears, delighted when she recognized the Petrushka ballet from a string quartet near the chocolate fountain. She didn't think Ohio could be so refined.
"To be honest, I'm not too sure of what I'm doing," he laughed, blushed, looked at her and blushed again. "I haven't done this thing in a while."
"Oh, God, this is a date," she spluttered.
"I'm so sorry," Mark groaned, rubbing his face behind his glasses. "I probably should have made that clear before."
"You are taking me out on a date," she gaped. "You."
"Excuse you, but I'm amazing," he joked before he frowned. "Is, uh, that a problem? I mean, you'd think it'd be weird but it just feels... I don't know, okay? I just -"
She laughed as he coughed and groaned to himself.
"I'm an absolute idiot, Ángela, okay? Just - don't listen to me and have fun. I should've made sure you knew I wanted this to be a date but I'm stupid and I didn't ask. So yeah. Mark is an idiot."
"You are not," she tugged on his arm and he lowered his body, confused, until she planted a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek. "You're okay. I'm glad this is a date."
"Really?" he frowned.
She laughed, skipped along and pulled on his arm to the cello playing Scent of a Woman, in a much better mood than the one she awoke to.
He was the same as she remembered - the funny impersonations, the dramatic movements and his voice. It was something that had always called out to her; his deep, baritone voice. She stayed the morning of the 28th watching his videos and vlogs, sipping on a hot beverage and laughing loudly.
She had to go back the next morning, and although the thought made her nervous, she wanted to see Mark again. Back in Effie's, it had seemed as if nothing had changed - as if, by some miracle, they were back in High School and he was trying to get her to understand her math homework while she sipped on a vanilla milkshake.
She touched the screen, amazed at the amount of people who realized how amazing Mark was. His fans were lovely, they really were. They all supported him through everything and they also helped each other. Ángela wasn't surprised that Mark would have a fanbase like that.
Her phone's screen lit up, and she grasped it distractedly as she giggled at the Turbo Dismount video she was currently watching. His friend, Bob, was there with him, laughing wildly. She felt elated that he had good friends, too. When she looked at her phone, she was surprised to see a text from Mark himself.
From Mark:
I'm going back to LA the 30th, when are you leaving?
To Mark:
2morrow, y?
From Mark:
The conservatory's open tonight. Wanna come?
The conservatory? She hadn't been there since High School. Christ, he probably hadn't been back there since the last time they went together, either. Wouldn't it be strange, though? She wondered if he'd bring Amanda, or someone else.
To Mark:
KK! Hvn't been thr n a long time!
From Mark:
\o/
See you at six!
Ángela found herself remembering those days when Mark was the only one who went with her to the conservatory, much before Kevin or even Felix. The both of them had wondered what the inside of the greenhouse would be like until Professor White had caught them with gaping mouths. He'd let them in, did so for the rest of the year, and he sat them at one of the benches while he played them a song or two.
The conservatory was actually where Ángela found her passion for music. She'd spend hours listening to Professor White, the young man teaching her all she needed to know about music. He'd been kind to her, when Mark was gone and she was changing and nobody knew what to call her so they just left. He'd been her moral support until Felix came into the picture closely, like a friend who'd always been there.
She felt bad that she hadn't visited Professor White for so long, but maybe she could make it up to him. Looking at the corner of the room, she quickly made her way to her guitar and placed the instrument in her lap. A wave of sadness crashed against her, eroding her bones for a second when she stroked with a thumb the words her father had carved with much love into the wood.
'May your life be always moving yet never breaking, it read.
Her father had been a writer. He's taught her how to love and cherish books, which she greatly did - but it had always been poetry the art that called out to her, instead of prose. She'd spend entire days reading dead poets and drinking words in like the finest wine, and when she understood music she realized it'd been her calling. Her mother hadn't liked it one bit. Her father had been as happy as he could be.
She played for a while a bit of Jack Johnson before washing her face and reapplying her makeup, grabbing her coat and leaving the room. The day wasn't as sunny as she would've liked, but it was the best she could get when it was December.
He was standing by the entrace, hands in his pockets and eyes on the ground as he scrubbed his shoe against the dirt. He looked every bit as handsome as he did the previous night, and she smiled as she hugged her coat closer to the body. Mark looked up.
"Hey," he grinned.
"Hey," she muttered softly for no reason at all.
The Conservatory was alive with colored lights and beautiful music already drifting. Stands of food and a great amount of people flowed through the grounds.
"Didn't know there was a festival going on," she told him, slightly uncomfortable because she thought it'd be a quiet night. She wasn't exactly in the best mood, not after remembering her dad.
"Yeah, I thought we could check it out," Mark's voice enthralled her so much, it melted everything inside her. "I don't know if Professor White's still working here, but if the greenhouse isn't closed, we could maybe go inside? For old time's sake?"
"I'd really like that," she confessed.
"Alright then, so," he lifted his elbow and she stared at it, startled. "I just made a fool out of myself, didn't I?"
"No!" she blushed, looping her arm around his. Jesus christ, he'd been doing weights, hadn't he? "I just - I hadn't expected that."
Mark winced as they started walking, passing stands. Ángela recognized various melodies as they drifted to her ears, delighted when she recognized the Petrushka ballet from a string quartet near the chocolate fountain. She didn't think Ohio could be so refined.
"To be honest, I'm not too sure of what I'm doing," he laughed, blushed, looked at her and blushed again. "I haven't done this thing in a while."
"Oh, God, this is a date," she spluttered.
"I'm so sorry," Mark groaned, rubbing his face behind his glasses. "I probably should have made that clear before."
"You are taking me out on a date," she gaped. "You."
"Excuse you, but I'm amazing," he joked before he frowned. "Is, uh, that a problem? I mean, you'd think it'd be weird but it just feels... I don't know, okay? I just -"
She laughed as he coughed and groaned to himself.
"I'm an absolute idiot, Ángela, okay? Just - don't listen to me and have fun. I should've made sure you knew I wanted this to be a date but I'm stupid and I didn't ask. So yeah. Mark is an idiot."
"You are not," she tugged on his arm and he lowered his body, confused, until she planted a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek. "You're okay. I'm glad this is a date."
"Really?" he frowned.
She laughed, skipped along and pulled on his arm to the cello playing Scent of a Woman, in a much better mood than the one she awoke to.