Capture The Moment (boyxboy)

Chapter 1: Room 206

"Do you need to wear an apron to study Spanish?"

☆

Where are you?

Clark looks down at the phone pinging in his hands. He had been ignoring Morton's texts to this point.  The guy had sent five messages already, wanting to know if he was still attending the Spanish night class and how far away he was. He was running late already! Maybe he should answer this one. 

On my way...what's the room number🤔

He is only half looking in the direction of where he is going, with the rest of his attention still drawn to his phone awaiting Morton's response ...That's when it happens...Clark's face suddenly gets embedded into the broad shoulder of a fluffy pink cardigan. It all happens so fast that he cannot keep up with the chain of events. The feel of two hands grabbing his upper arms, stopping him from falling even further into the owner of the garment, as his phone slips from his hands and skids face down along the polished floor of the college block. 

"Careful!" The voice of the owner of the pink cardigan says as he pushes Clark back up to standing. 

"Sorry I..." Clark looks up at the man he had bumped into and momentarily becomes lost for words, as he for the first time, takes in the guy's face. Two perfectly round eyes, deep brown, a pair of full dark lips, with the most well conditioned mop of dark brown hair like rich cocoa on the top of his head that Clark thought he had ever seen.

"Sorry... what?" The man questions with irritation of the sentence not being concluded. "Maybe apologise for crashing into me?" 

Clark now straightens up, with the other guy's hands falling to their sides. They both seemed to be the same height and around the same age, but Clark couldn't help but feel like he was being told off. "Well I was going to say sorry for my mistake, but it actually takes two to collide." 

"Excuse me?" The other man's voice seems to raise an octave at the response coming from Clark. "You know I am a lecturer at this college and you crashed into me. It wouldn't hurt to show some respect."

Clark now finds himself momentarily holding his tongue. Why? Why did he have to be a lecturer at this place? What if he was his teacher? He exhales a slow breath. "I'm sorry I crashed into you." Clark utters, trying to give his words as much conviction as he can muster.

A smile graces the man's face. "That wasn't so hard was it?...Mr..." 

"Layton."  Clark responds with yet another sigh as he again makes eye contact with the man, whose face now looked more serene. 

"Well Mr Layton, look where you're going in future please." He says as he goes on his way.

Clark can feel his body tense a fraction. He finds himself having to bite on his lips to stop himself from saying something he may regret.  He only comes out of his angry thoughts when his eyes fall upon his phone in the distance, still face down, on the now busy corridor.  He heads over to pick it up. Clark sighs as he turns the device over to see a shattered screen. "Ah, come on." He whines to himself as he cannot see anything apart from a shattered spectrum of colours. He cannot even see to send a text or call. Now he was late and didn't even know where the hell he was going. 

He slides his redundant phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he suddenly remembers the letter in his bag, Clark pulls his satchel around himself and opens one of the buckles, creating just enough room to rummage inside and find the piece of paper with the course details on them.  He finally locates it amongst his other things and begins to re-read the letter. He smiles to himself as he folds the letter back up and stuffs it back into his bag. Room 206. 

With the last few moments of his life momentarily leaving his thoughts, Clark dashes to the elevator, to the second floor, he soon locates the room and stops just shy of the door. He peers inside, a moment of hesitation consuming him. The desks seemed unusually high and a few people were already inside, sitting on stools. He also couldn't see Morton anywhere.  Clark goes to retrieve his phone, before remembering its broken state. "Excuse me please."

Clark looks to his left to see two people wanting to get past,  where Clark had subconsciously stood in the doorway. They were both male, with one holding the hand of the other as if to guide him into the room.  He moves to one side, then steps forward. "Actually, could you help me?" Both males stop and turn as if in unison, which freaked out Clark just a tad. "Um, is this room 206?"

"Yes that's right." The man in front says with a smile, before again making his way inside the room, hand still attached to the other male. 

"Ok..." Clark says, primarily to himself as he subconsciously follows the two joined at the hand into the room and sits himself behind them, near the back. At least here he could see as soon as Morton entered the room. 

Clark now turns his attention to his satchel, once again opening the clasps and pulling out his notepad, his Spanish dictionary and his lucky silver pen.  It's only when he places his things on the desk, that he looks up to see the two males in front of him adorning each other with cream aprons, with them then taking turns to tie up the strings on each other. 

"E...excuse me, what are you doing?" Clark questions as he watches the darker haired male tie a neat double bow behind the other male's back. 

"What does it look like?" The other male says laughing. "We're putting on our aprons." 

Clark furrows his brow in confusion. "Do you need to wear an apron to study Spanish?" 

"What?" The guy says laughing. "This isn't a Spanish language class, this is a cookery class." 

"Eh?...but you said this was room 206." Clark says, his heart racing as panic begins to set into his bones. "No, this is the Spanish language class." Clark insists. 

"Well, I beg to differ." The other guy says smiling as he points to a row of ovens and fridges lining two of the walls.  

It's now that Clark knows he is totally in the wrong room. He once again pulls the letter from his bag and rereads it. It definitely says 206! His phone suddenly begins to call, making a weird ringing tone as a result of its calamity. Clark hurries to retrieve it, tapping the screen in a frenzy in the hope he can somehow answer it. And miraculously he does. 

"Morton, where the hell are you?" 

"Where the hell are you?" Morton whispers. "It's already started."

"What room is it?"

"106"

"What? 106?"

"Don't you read your bloody messages? The letter had a clerical error." 

"Shit, ok, I'm on my way." 

Clark hangs up and hurriedly bags up his belongings. He slings his satchel over his shoulder before dashing to the door, only to be stopped in his tracks once again by a fluffy pink cardigan.