"You're my Clementine to my Aubergine-time!" // Davesport [DSAF]

0.8

I am here :D (( edit, april 19, i edited barely anything im tired so srry if u read the noti and assume it's a new chapter, im tired ))

    "I miss you," read at 2:35 am.

    God, what kind of message is that?! He probably thinks I'm a weirdo.

      Jack tossed his phone onto the table in front of him and slouched back into the red booth, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. Dave didn't show up to work yesterday and it sent the man through a state of panic; hoping he didn't die or skip town again. Completely forgetting the fact that Dave occasionally skips out on work. It was odd for Jack to behave like this... he didn't normally act like this, worrying about Dave's whereabouts like this. Though, he couldn't deny the fact that he felt a bit empty when Dave wasn't there; it was obvious he held some sort of desire to see Dave, considering how he always lit up seeing the weirdo. So, if he really did miss Dave, when he shouldn't feel embarrassed for stating so. But saying something like that to another man felt so... unmasculine to him. But it shouldn't feel wrong.

    Currently, the orange man waited patiently for his friend's arrival. Even though it's been only an hour, it felt like he was waiting days for his return. What made it worse was that the packed pizzeria felt emptier without that loud moron being there to preform his daily mischief to brighten Jack's mood. It made him feel more gloomy about the situation, now silently praying in his mind for Dave's arrival. Then, the sound of a door slamming open startled Jack, signaling his prayers have been noticed. The man jumped in his seat at the sudden bang, which was loud enough to deafen half the room; which didn't last long and the yelling was kicked back up. Jack was surprised he even heard the noise over the music and screaming children, especially with the face that the glass on the door didn't just shatter at the contact it had with the wall. 

When he picked his head up to look at the source of the sound, he saw no other than Dave Fucking Miller.

     A wide smile rose on Jack's face before smacking a hand to his mouth to hide it and ducked his head back down, dipping out the booth and rushed off to the safe room before he was spotted. It was stupid for him to attempt at running away to hide, but he wanted to straighten himself up and look more presentable when he was about to get on the latter for not arriving to work yesterday (even if he isn't his boss). It was necessary to yell at him for his absence, since Dave LITERALLY ditched Jack on the second day of the grand re-opening: the busiest day for any famous business. So, could you blame Jack for being upset with Dave?

     Jack slipped into the room without being noticed and let out a relieved sigh, now standing tall in front of where the broken mirror once hung. His hands fumbled with his uniform to look more presentable, using the few intact shards in the frame to fix it correctly. He looked just like a junior boss! The only thing he was missing was the phone on the head, that would've made it perfect... maybe not with the orange skin, but it'll do. The man hummed in content and combed a hand through his curly hair, making sure it was all in place. It wouldn't of mattered if it looked perfect or not,  since it was already messy. Which screwed with him at times when he wanted to look neat, but his hair just had to make him look like he just woken up.

     Soon enough, an eerie screech from the door cracking open sent chills up Jack's spine, indicating that Dave was here and forced his prior actions to halt, folding his arms behind his back in a formal and nervous manner while he turned his body to face Dave. He silently watched the lanky man enter the room, ducking a little to even get passed the door frame.

     "Ah, Old Sport! I didn't expect you to be here so early," Dave explained, a giant smile on his face when he spotted Jack standing at the table right next to the door, unfazed by the disappointed look on the orange one's face.