Black Thunder (Markson AU)

Chapter Three: Slipped Right Through My Fingers

The rest of the shift went smoothly for the three of them. No one else ordered beef ball soup, and all the other orders were simple enough that Mark could make them after one demonstration from Ten. Mark was starting to get the hang of working in the restaurant. When 12 o'clock rolled around, Mr. Kim came back into the kitchen.

"I know you're staying here," he said, looking over to Ten, "but do you two mind staying here for longer?"

Jackson turned around from helping a customer and tilted his head suspiciously. "How much longer?" He asked, putting the emphasis on "much."

Mr. Kim sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair. "Maybe around four. Don't worry, I'll pay extra. There just aren't many chefs, only Ten, and today is busy."

Mark beamed at the offer. "Of course. Right, Jackson?"

Jackson sighed internally. He didn't really want to stay, as much as he enjoyed his job. He just wanted to go back to his apartment and eat, but  Mark looked so enthusiastic that he couldn't say no. "Alright." He re-tied his apron, convincing himself that the extra pay was worth it. He took his place back at his station and tried to decode Mark's concentrated gaze at the long scar decorating his leg from a few hours ago. I wonder what that was all about, he wondered to himself.

Mark bit his lip, still confused about what he'd seen. "Maybe I'm overthinking this," he whispered to himself quietly, dicing up cilantro. "Anyone can have scars on their legs."

Ten glanced over at Mark. He was very impressed by Mark's cooking skills, first of all, for someone who had no prior restaurant experience. The kitchen was usually quite quiet aside from the constant sizzling and boiling and shouting. Mark's mumbling caught Ten off-guard.

"Are you okay, Mark?" The black-haired boy asked.

He watched as the other seemingly came back down to Earth. "O-Oh, yeah, I'm fine," he laughed lightly. Mark looked up at Ten and nodded with a small smile. "Thanks."

Mark turned back down to the green onion he was chopping and began to zone out. He often thought of nothing when doing a task, trusting his body enough to do the work. Mark was great at focusing and learning new skills quickly, a trait he discovered when he was younger. When he zoned out and blocked all other thoughts from his task, he did great. That's why it was so difficult for him to keep it together when Jackson was on his mind.

Mark plunked a steaming bowl down. "CHICKEN NOODLE!" He hollered, something that he hated doing.

The server, a brown-haired young man named Jinyoung, soon came around to pick up the soup. He paused for a moment to watch the two chefs.

"You're doing really well," he said to the hardworking boys.

Ten smiled, not looking up from his work. "Thank you."

Mark looked up and nodded. "Thank you," he echoed.

Jinyoung smiled and went to go deliver the order to the hungry customer. When he returned, Jackson informed him that there weren't any orders to deliver for the time being.

He leaned up against the side of the door and wiped his forehead. Jinyoung was used to running around delivering soup to people- he'd been doing it as a part-time job for three years. Honestly, he was impressed by the way Mark was working diligently.

"How long have you cooked, Mark?" Jinyoung asked curiously.

Mark trimmed away beef fat with one swift motion of his knife, surprised at the sudden question. "Not long," he replied in his quiet, soft tone.

"Really?" Jinyoung asked, his voice surprised. He straightened himself up and widened his eyes. "You look like a pro!"

Mark cracked a small side grin, concentrating on the meat rather than his words. "I don't think so, but thank you."