𝙎𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙊𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙁 | Marcus White

Sunnyside Diner

Pulling Marcus's jacket tighter around yourself as you were met with the cold November air, you curled into the soft warmth and the earthy smell of Marcus that lingered at the Jackets collar. It smelt even more of him then the last time you had worn it, and it somehow felt softer too.

Not that Marcus would ever admit it, but he'd gone out specially to buy a new laundry detergent and some of those fabric softener beads just to wash his jacket in - he'd realised once he'd got home that the material was coarse and had lost its softness over the years of use. And he'd be damned if you ever had to wear it again and it felt scratchy or gross.

Pushing your hands deep into the jackets pockets, you let out a huff, the air turning white in the crisp, night air. Looking to Marcus, he gestured towards his car, tucked away in the back corner of the parking lot, the two of you walking over to the car in comfortable silence.

"Wait!" Marcus whispered, only loud enough for you to hear in the near-deserted parking lot, causing you to stop before you reached the passenger side of the door. His hand came to rest on the small of your back guiding you to the side as he stood in front of you, opening the car door before gesturing for you to get in.

"Thank you." You muttered, surprised by the gentleman-ness of it all. Though you hadn't expected Marcus to open the door for you, you couldn't think of a reason why he wouldn't; he'd never once given you the idea he'd do otherwise, but the chivalry still managed to catch you off guard.

Marcus allowed you to pull the door closed yourself, rushing around the front of the car to slide into the seat next to you, closing the drivers-side door and putting the car into start. Leaning across the centre panel, he turned one of the ac shutters down to face you before turning the heating on - the hot air blowing down onto you and instantaneously beginning to warm you up.

"That's good." You whined, relishing in the heat that was quickly filling the car. "You don't realise how cold it is until it starts getting warm again, huh."

Your remark was met with a quiet hum of agreement: turning to face the perpetrator of the noise you were met with the sight of him holding himself. Marcus's arms were crossed and rubbing up and down his forearms, trying to get heat to them quicker, his forehead was creased as he bore down at the steering wheel in deep thought.

"I'm sorry." Marcus began, his gaze refusing to even turn in your direction as his actions came to a halt, instead choosing to pick at his nails. "For back there, in the break room. I don't know what came over me."

Silence filled the car. What were you supposed to say to that? That it was okay because you'd wanted him to kiss you? That if it weren't for Amy you wouldn't have stopped him? That it didn't matter cause you were still in his car and still going for drinks despite that? Nothing seemed right.

"I was so excited, and you were there and it felt..." Marcus took your silence as agreement; he had something to be sorry about. Though that couldn't have been further from the truth. "It felt right, y'know? But I'm sorry. I never meant to make things awkward or you feel like I was trying to force-"

"Woah, Marcus." You grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away from each other and stopping him from picking at the skin around his nails. Taking his hand in your own, you placed it between your two, rubbing it gently and allowing your warmth to seep into his fingertips. "It's all cool. Like I said before It's okay."

"Are you sure? Like, you don't have to come get drinks with me out of pity or anything; you can say no now even though you said yes before that stuff in the break room." Marcus continued to doubt himself, still having not started the car despite having sat in it and let it warm up for a while in case you wanted to get out and leave. "I'll drop you home and everything, I don't mind."