And so it begins. The final hours before this big sort of get together is here. Vital words those: get together. Not some freaking masquerade ball that requires precision in every single element of our outfit, make-up and freaking perfume. But from the way Danny, Glen and Sam are fussing over us makes it seem like we're going to visit the fucking Queen herself.
Turns out Mark's suit didn't fit. He wouldn't let either of us see him when he tried it on and shrugged off any questions we threw his way. Stubbornness totally getting in the way of trying to look half decent. At least, that's what Danny screamed at him when he ventured out in clothes that were two sizes too big for him.
So that's where they were for the majority of today. Looking for Mark's new, well fitted monkey suit. I can only imagine the slapped ass look on his face as Danny forced jacket upon jacket over his shoulders. If only I could have seen it...
But they're back now. Huddled away in Danny's room, making sure that he's made into the proper little gentleman. Pah. Mark? A gentleman. Sure...
“I need tea. Don't you fucking move. You'll mess yourself up.”
“Fuck you, Dan.”
“I mean it. Do not move.”
The door opens as Danny slips out, failing to notice me as I sit outside my bedroom door. As he wanders through to the kitchen, I notice that he's left the bedroom door open. Hmm. Mark's in there. In his little outfit. I want to see it. I want to see what this 'monkey suit' looks like. And now is the chance! I push myself to my feet, pushing the door open gently. I open my mouth to mock him as my eyes land on him...
My throat clamps shut around any words that were going to form. The person in front of me is not what I was expecting. It's Mark...but at the same time, it's really not. The skinny jeans have been replaced with these trousers that make his legs look like nothing I've ever seen before. It's like they go on forever. And instead of one of his t-shirts that always amuse me so much, with their funny pictures or captions, is the hint of a white shirt that's been covered by this jacket that makes his waist seem so...so...I don't even know what.
As he's fiddling with his collar in mirror, a look of irritation all over his face, I realise that my mouth is still wipe open. I snap it shut, trying to swallow away the feeling that's burning in my throat. But there's nothing to swallow. My mouth is bone dry. Any moisture that I should have must have moved, because there's a bucket load running down my back. And when he bites his lip, I swear my vision starts to swim. I can't breathe properly, my heart is thumping about my ribcage at a hundred miles an hour, and all I can think of is him. Even when I close my eyes to stop this sudden intrusion of emotions, he's there. He's always going to be there...
“Is it really that bad?”
His voice rings through my thoughts like music. That Irish tone that I hated so much to start with is now my own personal song, singing personalised lyrics to me every single day. How could I have hated it so much? Right now, the very idea seems far-fetched. His voice is like that of an angel...
“Alright, don't rub it in.” The grumpiness in the words forces my eyes open, and I see the deflated look on his face as our eyes meet. “I feel stupid enough as it is. Don't need you making me feel worse.”
He turns back to the mirror as I try to force some words out. Any words. But my tongue feels fat in my mouth, pushing against my teeth as I try to find some articulation. Come on, mouth. Work! You need to tell him...He needs to know...
“What a great day to turn into a mute,” he mutters miserably, pulling on his sleeve uncomfortably. “We're supposed to go to this stupid thing all happy and proving ourselves to be better and all that shit. But you can't even look at me without thinking how much of a twat I am. Jesus, I'm going to kill Danny. I knew this stupid thing looked like shit. It's not me at all, and I just want to curl up in a ball and say sod it all. You know what? Fuck it. I'm not going. Just tell them I died or something. I'm sure they'll forgive me. Not like I'll be missed or anything...”
