#meanwhile limo it is actually so enjoyable

[victory-cookies]

my printmaking prof gave us practice blocks to make stamps with before we do our proper linocut and. I think I’m obsessed. It’s so fucking fun

[blackberry-gingham]

okay but like, a drabble where you’re friends with ringo and of course the other beatles, except paul (bc all honestly i’m a major simp for him) and you two could just never seem to get along, but since you’re friends with the rest you suffer through it... and overtime you both realize your feelings for each other and are scared to admit it... i dunno, it’s a cheesy idea but i love it 😅

Absolutely yes, this is such a fun idea!! And let's be honest, "cheesy concepts" are actually just fanfic classics, bc I mean... cringe culture is DEAD 💅🏻

Lol, anyway this is kinda way more then a drabble bc I have no self control ig, so I hope that's ok djdjdj, but enjoy! It's kinda sweet at the end, ngl 🥺

---

The lights of the recording studio hum above while the gentle musk of old wood paneling and carpet surrounds you.

Today, you're spending time with your dear friend Ringo and he's invited you to hangout while he and the lads practice. Ringo beats out a little tune while you add some improvised vocals for fun. The two of you laugh and chat and before you know it, the rest of the lads trickle in.

George walks in and immediately comes over to catch up with you. He's easy going and polite, so you get along well. In fact, you get along well with all the boys! Well, except for...

In walks Paul McCartney, followed by his friend John. Now, John you like. He's a bit abrasive at first, but an absolute joker and sweetheart when you get to know him.

No, it's Paul you can't stand.

Or perhaps, it's that he can't stand you. It's hard to say really, it just feels as though from the minute you met, you simply didn't mesh with each other.

John grins and waves, glad to see you after so long. He walks past to say a proper hello, but keeps on his trajectory to set up and tune his instrument.

Paul, ever the ass, walks up to you, George, and Ringo and begins talking to them as though you're not even there. He greets them, then goes to handing out commands as if he were the manager. George is to go tune up and Ringo to make sure he's warmed up to keep on beat today. It'll be a long one after all.

George and Ringo look from Paul to you and back again. "Well sure, but we were just talking to-"

"I know. What are you doing here anyway, eh?", Paul turns sharply to you.

You set your face sternly. You've leaned by now not to let Paul bully you away, "Ringo invited me to stay today", you cross your arms defiantly, making sure to convey that you won't be leaving anytime soon.

Paul give you a hard stare, but decides you aren't worth the trouble. "Fine, just try not to be a distraction"

With that he walks off to tune up with John. You can't hear their conversation, but John doesn't seem to be too happy with him. Meanwhile, George apologies on Paul's behalf, "I'm sorry, I don't know what his problem is"

You sigh and let it roll of your shoulders, "Thanks, but it's nothing", you smile and shrug.

George laughs, "You're tough alright... I remember John use to treat me like that, and I nearly left!" You share a laugh and he walks over to the other three to chat and get ready for the session.

You and Ringo talk a bit before he focuses up on his drumming. For now, you sit and listen.

And watch.

The boys have spread out a bit and you now have a very clear view of Paul. You think back to the interaction you had just moments ago. Compared to his behavior when you'd first met, you could almost count what had just occurred today as kind.

The old Paul you knew would certainly have thrown you out.

Strange... This was actually becoming a pattern with him. This wierd, "niceness". Truth be told, you do sort of want to befriend him. After all, you're friends with all his friends. But he's just so frustrating!

Paul catches you staring and stares back for a moment, although, there's a look in his eyes as though the gears of his mind are turning. He gives you a nod before turning back to the boys.

You quickly turn away. What did that mean? A neutral nod may seem like nothing to most, but with the way you and Paul are it might as well be a friendly kiss on the cheek.

That's it. You need to find out what's going on here...

Over the next few weeks you play it cool and try to observe Paul as much as you can. And in that time period, the change in his behavior is... Alarming, to say the least.

The next time you saw each other, not only did he say a proper hello, but he even addressed you by name!

Then another time, he opened and held a few doors for you during a group outing with the boys.

But nothing tops what he did today...

Today, not only did Paul strike up a decent conversation with you. Asking all how you've been and what you've been up to lately and such... But after some recording, the boys decided to take a quick break and you had to be going anyway. You let the boys know and said your goodbyes.

While you were walking through the hallway, a voice calls out to you, "Hold on a minute, wait now!"

You stop dead. Is that...? No, it couldn't be. You turn around to find just who you expected.

Paul trots up to you, mildly out of breath. You ask him what's up, being a little more civil then your old self would've. Paul straightens up, having caught his breath, "I uh, I just wanted to say... I'm sorry for being such a right bastard to you. I know this is out of nowhere, but um... I don't know, I feel like as we've been getting more acquainted I feel just awful for how I've treated you. So... for what it's worth... I'm sorry"

You... Well, you're not sure what to say. He's right indeed, this is rather out of nowhere. At first you're not sure you believe him. After all, this could just be some joke to dupe you for his amusement. But then again...

Paul's eyes are big and glossy as they stare back at you. His eyebrows are quirked up and an uncertain frown is settled on his pretty lips. Wait, what did you say?

You shake the thought out of your head. "I um, I forgive you McCartney. Glad to see you've some manners", you cross you arms, daring him to take it back or like fun.

But he doesn't. Instead, he looks relieved. A brilliant grin replaces his frown and his eyes light up with a joy they've never before possessed while beholding you.

"You mean it? No hard feelings?"

You smirk, "Don't push it"

Paul actually laughs. "Fair enough", he says. Then, "you know... We're having a little concert nearby, would you like to come? The hotel is supposed to be serving a cracking dinner spread after the show! Y-you know, if you'd like to tag along that is..."

You blink, thinking you must be in a dream. Before you can even take a second to weigh your options and come to a decision, you hear yourself say, "Sure!"

That same light comes back to Paul's face. For all intents and purposes he seems genuinely excited that you'll be coming. One of the boys calls his name from down the hall. It's time for him to be getting back. But first, he fills you in on the details of where and when to be.

"Then just come backstage afterwards, we'll go together!", with that he says a proper goodbye and jogs off. You head for the street and catch a bus home, looking all the while as though you've seen a ghost.

You know, when he's being civil, he's actually... Not bad. For the life of you, you'd never tell, but you always thought Paul was the pretty one. Besides that, he's talented and charismatic... You were more then a little sore to find that he didn't like you at first.

After all this time you've gotten so used to putting up with him and his jerk behavior you don't know how to feel. And yet... These last few weeks you feel as though you're seeing a whole new side of him.

One you like.

Did you really just think that? You're about to shiver in disgust, but something stops you. He was bizarrely sincere with his apology today, and rather genuine with his invitation for you to join them after their show this weekend, you know.

Hm... After an evening of pondering, you decide to let him prove himself at dinner. If he wants to be a gentleman, then so be it. You're willing to bury the hatchet. And if not, then nothing's changed. Although, you would be rather let down...

Later that week, the concert is a blast. The boys were at their absolute best for sure. They practically brought the house down with the screams and applause they drew from the crowd.

All in all, you have nothing much to report. You enjoyed yourself in a comfortable position up front but... Well, you may have imagined it, but you could've sworn Paul winked at you after the show... Or perhaps it was the girl next to you.

Afterwards, you did as Paul said and passed through security backstage. The boys were in the midst of cheering each other on, celebrating the excellent work as you jogged up to join in. Ringo calls you name, and gives you a hug, "Did you see that! They loved us!"

The other three chatter to you excitedly, affirming Ringo's statement. Even Paul. No, especially Paul. You can't deny his bass playing and singing were absolutely top notch tonight, and he seems over the moon to receive your validation. Odd.

In the limo ride to the hotel, you sit between George and Ringo, yet you can't help but steal glances at Paul. This is crazy. You know it is. And yet, you can't help but dare to think... you mean, the way he's been acting lately, especially given the strange turn around... Could it be? What if... What if Paul...

Likes you?

You break from your thoughts just in time to see Paul looking at you with a shy smile as you stare into space. When you catch him, he looks away quickly.

Later at the dinner, Paul sits besides you and your heart jumps into your throat. A small part of you expects a ribbing or something of that sort, but your time together is actually quite enjoyable. Conversation flows easily between the two of you.

You make each other laugh.

You get each other excited.

You finally get to meet the kind and charming Paul you've heard so much about...

Paul pays for your meal and you continue chattering on all the way up to his hotel room. You stop at the door, and find that you're sad to say goodbye.

"Well, I guess I should let you get your rest..."

"Heh, suppose so", Paul shuffles his feet and looks away. "Uh, but before you go.."

You stop mid turn, "Hm?"

Paul hesitates for a beat, then gently takes your hand, just by the fingers. "I um, I probably have no right to say this, given how horrible I've been to you, but... I uh, I just can't go another moment without telling you the truth..."

He makes eye contact with you at long last. His eye lashes flutter slowly, only accentuating his doe like eyes.

"I uh, I don't know how to say this, heh... I've just been so afraid you'd hate me even more for this, but... I um, well I-I suppose I have feelings for you... I have nearly from the start, I just didn't know how to, well, you know"

Paul's voice trails off like he's afraid of your answer before he's even finished his sentence. He bites his lip and closes his eyes, bracing himself for insults or laughter, whatever you might throw at him.

But when your lips meet his, soft and passionate and warm... He swears he's in a dream. You pull back slowly, and open your eyes to look deeply and knowingly into his.

You didn't even know you were waiting for this moment...

Paul looks breathless as he gazes back at you, and he's hardly able to form a sentence, "W-wh-? S-so, you do-?"

You smile coyly, and it only makes Paul's confusion bloom into a beautiful, Paul smile. You don't have to say anything. His heart already knows the answer.

"I'll see you tomorrow, McCartney", you wink and walk away, holding Paul's hand until he's out of reach.

And see him tomorrow you did. And the next day. And the next...

And the rest, is history.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 14 Jan

Listen, I know I said I was ready to see 'bare minimum' redefined with Harry and Kiko but friends, I WAS NOT READY. As always in this fandom, my expectations are exceeded one thousand fold by the absurd. Two days after the article linking them, Kiko denied any involvement with Harry in no uncertain terms, clarifying that she had literally never even met him. (The funniest parts of her statement are definitely translation issues but "do not let the mass media dance again" is pretty amazing advice whatever the source.)

Enjoyable as it is to see Dan Wootton made to look foolish publicly, many find it difficult to believe that he'd jeopardize his position as stunt mouthpiece in chief by going rogue, and point out that all the evidence suggesting the months of planning of this narrative still exists. So what happened? Did they just forget to tell her the plan? Were Kiko or her team taken by surprise by the fandom poking holes in it and going after her? Or did they accomplish what they set out to, the true bare minimum; all the headlines without actually doing the stunt AND full deniability? Some have suggested that the entire charade was orchestrated to undermine the credibility of the het Harry narrative, and whether or not that was intended, it may well be the result. Whatever the case, it was the best shitpost fodder we've had in months, goodbye and thanks for the laughs Kiko, we hardly knew ye...

Yesterday's Louis airport pics (and now video) were from Geneva and show him and Eleanor standing at the check in counter. Thought experiment of the day, why would they be there? Geneva offers VIP lounge check in or, if you choose, limo service directly to your plane. Many speculate that Eleanor is in only a light jacket because she flew straight in for the photo op and never left the airport, others expect to see 'ski trip' photos at some point, some want to talk about where Louis was coming from (Japan?) but pretty much everyone agrees (for once) that they'd rather see new music.

Zayn posts that he is prepared for "the dark days" with his economy size box of gummy candies, referring to someone's note on it about it being all you need for the zombie apocalypse which is, aww, a perfect Zayn thing, but some are concerned to see Zayn posting about dark days and hope it doesn't mean anything beyond the surface reading.

Speaking of dark days, when asked what song he'd like played at his funeral Harry named Flowers in the Window, as he has many times over the years when asked for a favorite song. Fandom cooed nostalgically about the love song, long associated with him and Louis, despite the morbid context.

Liam and Louis are both up for the fan voted Best European Act award in the Top 50 Music Awards. I don't know who will win overall but I can make a very confident prediction of how the 1D vote will play out SORRY LIMA we'll get you that Brit to make up for it hopefully babe

Meanwhile a (the?) big Briana update account announced they will be deleting, raising eyebrows and hopes. This could mean a lot, nothing at all, or something in between but all I have to say is OH MY GOD you guys they were called bjsource? All this time?! That is... amazing. Imagine googling to find that account, YIKES

[blackaquokat]

May You Always Be Satisfied (Part 4)

( Part 1 ) (Part 2)  (Part 3)

Oo00oO

As the weeks pass, Mark can feel his life returning to a sense of normalcy. For the most part.

Damien now visits Mark and Celine on a regular basis, and invites the newlyweds to outings as well, thus officially allowing their friendship to return to as it was before.

It took some quick thinking to explain the giant bruise on Mark’s face at the beginning of this reconciliation, but Damien accepted the blame for it. Mark doesn’t think Celine fully believes the story, knowing her gentle twin all too well, but she doesn’t press. It would be a little difficult to explain Mark’s rather complicated status with his other friend, so Mark is grateful for Damien’s help.

Mark’s other friend,meanwhile, he hasn’t seen since the day they bruised his cheek in the first place.

Sure, part of that is his fault. Mark has been afraid to contact them until he has a plan in place to earn their trust back. Thus far, he hasn’t had much luck.

Damien hasn’t exactly been much help either.

They are currently at Freddy’s Pub, Damien on one side of the booth while Mark sits on the other, pen scratching outlines of ideas onto paper.

“I still think you should just give them space to cool off,” Damien reiterates for about the fiftieth time as he watches Mark crumble up this one and toss it aside. “Otherwise you’ll only drive them further away.”

“And I told you, waiting around has never been my way,” Mark retorts. He shifts an empty sheet of paper in front of him and taps his pen against it, waiting for a new idea to strike.

Damien rolls his eyes, lingering on the growing pile of rejected paper balls next to their booth before returning to the newspaper in his hands. “If you keep this mess up, we may get kicked out.”

“The last time someone got kicked out of here, it was for trying to fornicate with the bear puppet in the corner. I think they can handle a pile of paper.”

“On that note, you know you’re wasting a lot of paper, right?”

“I can afford more.”

A sigh. Not Damien’s first of the evening, and certainly not his last. “Mark, believe it or not, your money can’t solve everything.”

Mark lets out a light chuckle. Then his pen freezes mid-tap when he catches sight of a blurb on the back of Damien’s folded newspaper. A blurb about the upcoming episode for Inner Sanctum Mystery.

A new thought dawns on him.

“What?”

“You’re right,” Mark says in a reverent whisper, a smile growing across his face, “my money can solve this!”

“What?!” Damien shakes his head frantically. “No, no, that is the exact opposite of what I said, do not come up with a wrong idea when I am trying to push you towards the right one—MARK, COME BACK HERE!”

But Mark is already out the door in a flash.

Damien stares at the spot where Mark was only five seconds ago, the pile of rejection paperballs now scattered across the floor of the pub in the wake of his friend’s departure.

The bartender approaches the table with crossed arms. “So who’s paying the bill?”

Damien rubs his forehead with his fingers. “Put it on Mark’s tab.”

Oo00oO

One week later, Mark knocks, rather obnoxiously, on the door of his favorite law student.

They open the door to his bright grin. They’re wearing a rather plain purple sweater and dark pants.

“I hope you don’t have any plans today, my friend, because I—wait, please don’t shut the door. Just give me a moment, please?”

They stop closing the door in his face. Their mouth twists in contemplation. Then they lean against the door jam, brows lifting as if to say, “You have five minutes.”

“Thank you. Now, how would you like to go get coffee at Amy’s?”

“Why?”

Mark had prepared for their skepticism. “I have a surprise waiting there for you.”

Their eyes narrow, but no questions follow.  

“You can leave whenever you want,” Mark continues. “But at least see what I’ve got planned?”

They regard him for another several seconds before shutting the door once again. Before he can despair (or start knocking again, begging like a fool), they open the door and join him on the stoop.

“Fine. You’ve got me curious.”

Mark doesn’t bother hiding his delight. He gestures to his limo. “Your chariot awaits.”

Oo00oO

The silence on the way to Amy’s Planet shouldn’t bother Mark, but it still does.

They’ve always been quiet, his friend, but in the past, the quiet moments between the two of them have been companionable. They have always been oddly soothing for someone as energetic as he, softening the sharp urges of immaturity as they arrived.

Of course, his immaturity is what got him into this spot of trouble in the first place. Now it seems his friend is content to turn companionable silences into bitter ones. Which shouldn’t surprise him, considering how their last encounter went, but it hurts nonetheless.

Mark takes in a deep breath. This plan will work. It has to.

“Ah, here we are!” he announces as the driver pulls into the parking lot at Amy’s. As he and his friend exit the vehicle, a distant rumble echoes through. Mark looks up to a blue sky turned gray.

“I guess there’s a storm coming.”

This is oddly perfect for what he has waiting for them.

The closer they get to Amy’s, the more suspicious his friend appears.

“Why does it look so dark in there?” they inquire, speaking for the first time since they left the house.

“Oh, I bought it out for the afternoon.”

They stop in their tracks. “You what?”

“I’m fully aware of your hatred for crowds, so I decided to avoid it entirely.” He pulls out the key Amy gave to him and unlocks the front door, opening it for his friend. “I also sent the employees home. Don’t worry, they’re getting paid for the time they would have been working.”

They’re still staring at him, like he isn’t waiting for them to go into the café. “What is it?”

“You…you really…are you kidding me?” they splutter.

The reaction confuses him, and primarily because it wasn’t said with awe-inspired gratitude. More like a “questioning his sanity” kind of exclamation.

“I don’t understand.”

They groan and shake their head. “Of course you don’t…” With that rather passive-aggressive comment, they finally go inside.

So far, not so good, he thinks as he crosses the clean floor to where his friend is sitting, at their usual table. Their arms are folded on the table, gaze fixed on the top. They’re so visibly uncomfortable, it physically hurts to see.

Mark straightens, clasping his hands behind his back. Time to turn up the charm.

“Shall I get your usual order?” Mark inquires in a mock-proper tone (one he picked up from his favorite butler-in-training, Benjamin).

The only response is a shrug.

Mark moves behind the counter, undeterred, only to stare at all of the contraptions and labels in trepidation. “…perhaps I should have at least kept one employee. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing,” he confesses.

Mark sees their shoulders shake with gentle laughter and he takes it as a win even as they quash it almost immediately. “Until I figure this out, allow me to prepare the next part of your surprise.”

He goes to the back room and rolls a stand to their table. A cassette player and tape rests atop it. Mark feels their eyes on him as he places the tape inside the player.

“Wait for it…”

The sound of an eerie, creaking door suddenly emanates from the speaker. “Good evening, Friends.  This is your host of the Inner Sanctum, inviting you in through the creaking door—“

Their eyes widen. “Inner Sanctum Mystery? On tape?”

“I asked the radio cast and crew to record their newest episode before their next airing time. You and I will be the first to witness their most recent macabre creation.”

Their gaze flips from him to the tape player before focusing on the latter with rapt attention, hands folding into their sweater sleeves.

Mark smiles at how enraptured they look.

“—don’t pay any attention to those gurgling sounds you hear. They are the unfortunate ones. The midnight spirits who are caught haunting before midnight. Poor things. All they can do now is gurgle—”

The gleeful horror of the narrative is briefly interrupted by a lady pushing Lipton Tea to be bought (which gives Mark time to struggle further with the contraptions behind the counter). “I may actually buy a truck of Lipton Tea if I can’t figure this out…” he mutters to himself.

It takes longer for him to manage than he would like to admit, but eventually he does get two drinks resembling coffee stirred and served for the two of them. He settles at the table across from them. They take the mug without a word.

“—I got out an old Latin dictionary. I looked up the word, perpetuus. And then, I got a strange, cold feeling down my spine. For the word perpetuus means ‘perpetual.’ The latin sentence which the professor had written in his diary meant: ‘In Elixir #4, I have the secret of perpetual life. Professor Jarman had discovered the secret of immortality!”

“How much you wanna bet this guy is about to regret finding that Elixir?” Mark jests.

They snort, an amused, but almost-empty sound. They’ve relaxed into their chair further since the program started.

Outside, the rumble of thunder rolls closer and closer, rain drumming in a gentle rhythm against the glass windows.

As the radio drama progresses, as a student plots to murder his professor for the sake of immortality, Mark sips his drink, enjoying the heat and the company with his friend. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed them until now, didn’t notice the gaping hole in his life.

The two of them should do this more often. Maybe even Celine could join them. She and his friend share a similar enjoyment of darker mysteries.

By the time he tunes back in, the student has picked up a mallet while the professor begs for his life. The rain chooses that moment to drop the ocean on the café, so loud Mark can feel the pelting in his ears.

“‘You fool! You’ll never enjoy your immortality! You’ll wish you were dead a thousand times!”

The professor wound up not dying of the mallet, but by chemical fumes created by his twisted chemistry student. The student then, rather melodramatically, ingests the elixir and declares his morbid delight over his new mortality.

Honestly, Mark thinks. He sounds so forced. I could play the role of a sociopath far better.

As if on cue, a flash of lightning strikes outside, followed by a crack of deep thunder.

The host takes that time to jump in with his two cents.

“Hey, what’s going on here? What’s all this about living forever? If you ask me, it would be more of a curse than a blessing.”

“I can’t disagree,” Mark chimes in. “What do you say, my friend? Do you fancy living forever?”

His amusement dies immediately when he catches sight of the tears rolling down their cheeks, their coffee untouched before them.

“My friend, are you—”

They swear quietly and tear out of the café. Into the thunderstorm outside.

“Goddamn it!” he hisses as he hurries to follow them. By the time he’s outside, the rain pelting him like tiny stones, they’re too far down the sidewalk for him to catch up. Mark hurries to his limo and orders the driver to follow them.

Once the car is beside them, he lowers the window. “My friend, please get in the car.”

“Go away, Mark!” they shout over the downpour.

“You’ll get sick!”

They pay him no heed, arms crossed tight over their soaked body.

Mark tries one last tactic. “I’ll take you home, okay? We don’t have to go back to the café.”

They finally stop walking, and his driver stops the car as well (Mark needs to give the man a raise). He waits as they blink the rain from their eyes, still resolutely staring at the sidewalk, away from him.

Finally, they climb into his limo.

Mark calls out the address to his driver and then the car is off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees them shivering sporadically, as though they are trying to quell the urge only for it to break through their composure. Their wet hair is stuck to their forehead.

Would they really suffer pneumonia just to avoid asking for his help?

Without a word, Mark takes off his coat and puts it over their body. They stiffen at the gesture, mouth set into something pale and angry.

“I’d like that back, at some point,” he orders, to soften the blow for them. Make it less like a kindhearted favor they think they’ll owe and more like an inconvenience for him which will make them hold onto the jacket out of spite.

The fact that Mark knows them well enough to realize that should frighten him, but it doesn’t.

Sure enough, he sees their fists bunch up the cloth from underneath and they pull it closer to them. Their eyes dart out the window, watching as the droplets trace pathways down the glass.

“Why did you do this, Mark?” they ask quietly.

“Because you’re cold, obviously—”

“No, I meant this.” They lift their coat-fisted hands away from them and pull them right back. “Why the café, the radio drama, the coffee? What was the point of it?”

He doesn’t understand why they sound so hurt. It kills him to hear it.

“I just…I just wanted you to see that nothing has to change,” Mark explains. “You’re still important to me, we can still be friends, still spend time together like before, and nothing can change that.”

They scoff. “Mark, we talked about this—”

“No, you talked. I didn’t get to say anything.”

“What could you possibly have said that would have made a difference?” they challenge. “You eloped with Damien’s sister and didn’t invite us—”

“I know what I did!” Mark snaps. “And I didn’t invite you because, damn it, I knew you guys would have tried to talk me out of it—”

“Of course we would have! You don’t get married to your best friend’s sister two weeks after your parents die—“

“That’s exactly why—”

“I would have told you to at least wait longer, damn it!”

Mark chokes on his last sentence. “You—what?”

Their expression is not dissimilar to someone staring down the barrel of a gun. They swallow and look down. “I wouldn’t have stopped you from marrying her. Neither would Damien, especially if you…if you love her.” Their voice grows hoarse at the last part. “But couldn’t you have waited a little longer? I haven’t even met her…and sure, Damien may know you’ll be happy, but how am I supposed to be content with your choice if I don’t see…”

They trail off with a shake of their head, eyes pinched shut.

Mark suddenly thinks he understands a little better, why they took it so hard. “Look, you don’t have to forgive me. What I did was wrong, and I’m sorry I hurt you,” deep breath, let it out. This is the turning point. “But I thought you of all people would understand that I was terrified of being alone.”

They flinch, and he knows it’s cruel to phrase it like that. They know loss just as intimately as he now does, but it’s necessary.

“I felt so lost, and I…I know one day you and Damien will be off, in love, and where does that leave me? I know I married her for the wrong reasons at the time, but at least now I’m happy. Me and Celine, we are both happy. Can’t that be enough for you to be happy for me?”

They don’t look up, but Mark thinks he sees resignation in their eyes. Their head tilts up and down in the barest hint of a nod.

The knot in his heart loosens just a fraction.

The rest of the ride to their home is as soundless as it was when the two of them left, but at least now Mark is settled with the knowledge that there is still hope to return this friendship to its former glory.

When the limo stops in front of the house, they don’t get out immediately, like Mark would have expected.

They whisper something under their breath, too soft for him to catch.

“What was that?”

They sigh. “I just…I missed you. That’s all.”

The confession warms him better than the coffee did. He definitely needs to try something like this again. “I’ve missed you too, my friend. Perhaps in a few days, you can meet Celine. I think you two would get along well.”

“No,” they insist, rather forcefully.

Mark’s concern returns in full force. He thought... “Why not?”

They clear their throat. “Because Valentine’s Day is this week,” they say in a rush, “and I doubt Celine will want a complete stranger joining the first romantic holiday of your marriage.”

The blood drains from Mark’s face.

He completely forgot about Valentine’s Day in his rush to get this outing put together.

Mark is so caught up in his panic, he doesn’t notice his friend climb out of the limo with his jacket still wrapped around them.

He calls for the driver to hurry to the nearest flower shop and never sees his friend watch the car drive away.

Oo00oO

You stare down the street long after Mark’s limo disappears into the thick sheet of rain.

Of all the idiots you could have fallen for, it had to be the recently married one who makes a grand gesture to his “friend” mere days before Valentine’s.

It shouldn’t surprise you by now, not after all the thoughtless things he’s done, but it does anyway. It’s surprising, and it hurts like someone holding your head underwater, long after you’ve run out of air.

He’ll never understand what he does to you, the bastard.

And it’s for the best that he never does.

You’re willing to deal with the water drowning your lungs, so long as Mark still wants you as his friend.

(Maybe you’re the fool, for putting up with him.)

So you go inside your home, because nothing good comes out of standing in the rain, brooding like a fool. You light up the fireplace and hang up your wet clothes…

…and Mark’s jacket.

Your hands hold onto it longer than they should, thumbs stroking the wet, expensive fabric.

You’ll give it back to him another time, you decide. Some time when his wife isn’t around, and when you can pull air into your lungs again.

Oo00oO

A/N: If anyone is curious, Inner Sanctum Mystery was an actual radio drama in the 1940s, and the lines were taken from the episode “The Man Who Couldn’t Die.” I’m investing far more research into my WKM stuff than I probably should, considering I picked the wrong decade, but hey, go big or go home. Hope you enjoyed it! If you want to be tagged, please let me know!

@dontworryaboutanything , @cosmic--frappucino , @beereblogsstuff , @musical-jim , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @im-also-dead-inside , @timelords13 , @determinedrevolutionary , @ur-fairy-god-dragon , @conceitedink

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Making Seating Plans For The Wedding

As anyone who features taken the time to be able to break has found, marriage planning is a challenging task. Luckily, this post offers given you suggestions to help make when you get married a wonderful one. Marriage ceremonies are one of often the more challenging things to package during the course of your life. Be certain that before your wedding, you are usually incredibly organized so anyone are in a good good position when the idea arrives time to determine with certain questions. This is going to give you the best opportunity to get good results. Leading up to your wedding party, you will want to help find a major make-up artist to do your own makeup, which will increase the method that you look. royal wedding is very important as you may will want to be mainly because shining as possible plus hide virtually any imperfections therefore that you can end up being perfect when your massive time will come. 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