Wild World Comms

Chapter 9: If John Hughes Could Direct My Life

"So, I'm guessing you got my box then?" Dan questioned, nervously looking down towards the mug he held in his hands. He was sat opposite you in the big armchair he had occupied before. When you had sat in your chair, you were surprised at how comfy it was, not expecting much from it's tall overly stylised design.

You'd hoped that he would have left it bit longer to bring up the box, even if it was the whole reason as to why you were meeting today. It hadn't been long since you had finished your pastry (undoubtedly the healthiest lunch- ever) and you were enjoying the unproblematic conversation about each other's converse.

Apparently, his burgundy pair were just about to celebrate their fourth birthday. Making your classic black and white ones pretty young in comparison. Their previous ancestors had sadly greyed, which wouldn't have been a problem, although there was a hole in the sole.

You go to grab your mug of coffee before answering his question. If Dan could use his as shield, then you would too.

"Mhmm." Your throat murmurs, as though it was also as reluctant as your brain to begin this conversation. His eyes immediately shot up to meet with yours, anxiously waiting for you to elaborate on your terrible answer. "You mean the mysterious parcel that caused me to flee the office as soon as it fell into my hands?"

God, the sarcasm didn't pull off as well as you had hoped it would. It was so completely unnerving for you to watch his cute awkward face fall into despair and guilt for what he sort of did do. "Oh god, really? I'm-"

"No, no don't." You quickly step in, feeling terrible, interrupting his unnecessary apology. He looked at you in confusion. "Because you might also be referring to the box that filled the black hole of conspiracy that had been growing in my mind since the night we met... Which also happens to be the same box that couldn't have been more perfect. To be honest I don't know how you got it so right. But I want to say thank you. I loved it."

Feeling stupidly awkward after the truthful confession, you just about manage to look into Dan's eyes to gage a response. They had thankfully lost their despair, and seemed to be smiling, just like his mouth was.

"I'm glad you liked it. I wanted to get it right, especially the note. I went through half a notebook trying to get the wording right. To be honest I really should have just used my laptop, using that much paper, because trees." He smirked at his silly reasoning, and you couldn't help but smile at his adorable actions. His large hands were still wrapped around the mug of coffee, as though its warmth was supporting his confidence in the conversation. "In the end I just let my hand write honestly, and I think it worked out?"

"It did." You smile, feeling your defences lower. As though you were both on the same page, he lent forward placing his emotional shield (mug) on the table. Dan then moved so that his elbows were resting on his knees, slightly leaning forward, to close the distance between the both of you.

"Did you have any questions about the monster that I shamefully happen to work for?" He was speaking in a low voice, practically, in case someone was to overhear the toxic conversation.

There were so many questions that you wanted to ask him, though you thought it best in your current situation to just ask the one that was most pressing on your mind.

"Yeah," you respond matching his hushed tone, also leaning forward in your chair as though you were planning a Guy Fawkes style assassination. "Why do you work there? I mean out of all the of the places you could possibly work. You're basically working for big brother."

He smirks at your literary joke, "I ask myself that every single day."

"I don't get it. I read the article... and you can write. Surely The Guardian or someone like that could offer you a job?"