Ode to Remedy

Act II

Markus returned to the table with two frappuccinos in his hands. He placed one in front of Primrose and sat across from her.

"You didn't have to get anything," She said, slightly shakily.
    
Markus's russet gaze trailed down her bandaged forearm. "We used to order frappés all the time when we were younger. Do you remember? I figured this would cheer you up a bit."

Primrose didn't respond; she only stared down into the whipped cream of her drink. Markus wondered what thoughts she possessed behind those hazy, hazel eyes.

The staff of the café fortunately had a first aid kit in the kitchen in case of emergencies. They laughed and informed Markus and Primrose that this was the first time they had to use it. Perhaps they were trying to distract Primrose. What would you have to do in a café to require a first aid kit? Markus thought. If you burnt yourself you'd need one, he supposed. He shrugged and solemnly sipped his drink.

"You can head on to school," She said, "You don't have to skip for me. I can manage."

Markus arched an eyebrow. "It's Friday. Do we really do anything on Fridays anyway?" That succeeded in making her smile. With a slight uplift in confidence and in an attempt to distract her furthermore, he asked, "Are you doing anything this weekend?"

She began to stir her drink with her straw, shaking her head slightly, when her eyes lit up with realization. "Oh yeah, actually I am! Have you heard of Ocean's party?"

Markus took another long sup of frappé before hesitating. "Ocean... I don't know how to feel of her." 

She shrugged a bit. "I'm not too fond of her myself, but her parties are wild. Ever been to one? She hosts them quite occasionally."

It was Markus's turn to slowly shake his head.

"Ah, not much of a drinker?"

"There's drinking involved?" He said in a low, jokingly intrigued voice. Primrose chuckled. "No, I'm not. I'm afraid if I start I won't be able to stop."

Primrose's lips curled into a sorrowful smile. "That is often the case, isn't it? You're wise, Markus. Regardless, you should come. Carmine and I will be there."

Markus resisted a grimace. He knew very well how the night would result with the two of them together.
Carmine was Primrose's boyfriend of three years now. They were approaching their anniversary soon, and he assumed that was the reason for his return. Carmine was an American in the Air Force, so he was frequently gone. He had met Primrose while stationed in Britain and the two hit it off. He tried to visit her as much as he could, but it wasn't often. The two resorted to sending letters back and forth to communicate. It made Markus wonder if he and Valentine could manage that way.  A spark of detest began to burn inside him at the thought of Val, causing his eyes retreat to the table guiltily.

"You know," He proposed after a long pause, "I think I might go."

"Excellent." She grinned, bringing her straw to her lips. "What about Valentine? How's he been?"

Markus didn't look up. What nicely polished wood, he thought, a bit frantically. "He's been good."

"I assume if you didn't know about the party than he doesn't either. You should let him know. It'd be a
pleasure to get to see him again."

He nodded after hesitating. "I will definitely let him know." 

"Great. I'd love to be able to spend time with my boys after all this time." She cooed through a mouth full of whipped cream, winking.

Markus managed a forced laugh. "When is this party, exactly?"

"Ah, I forgot to mention. It's tonight."

"Tonight?-" He exclaimed, nearly choking on his drink.

Primrose blinked, a bit surprised. "Is it bad timing?"

"No, no, no, no, it's fine! Just a bit taken aback," He laughed embarrassedly, bringing a napkin to his face to hide his reddened cheeks.

Primrose giggled. "You're so cute."

A pitched ding sounded from her back pocket, causing them both to jump. She pulled her phone out and scanned the screen for a second, before straightening and collecting her things.

"If you don't mind, I have to take my leave. Carmine just arrived at the airport and I need to pick him up. I seemed to have forgotten until just now."

She gazed longingly at her screen. Markus watched her closely. Her lover's long return changed her attitude completely. He looked to the floor as if he were giving her privacy, like if he continued to examine her, he'd be invading. He was glad to see his friend bettered from the previous incident. She seemed so happy.

"Ah, of course," He said. "Go ahead, tell him I said hello."

"Alright." She stood and picked up her bag, throwing it over her shoulder. "Thank you, Markus. For everything." She paused awkwardly, glancing to the side abashedly. There was a silent appreciation hanging in the air. Markus understood it perfectly. She thanked him once more through the gleam in her bleary eyes, because he didn't bring up her scarred wrists, but of course, that was how he regarded those who needed someone to cry on. He never mentioned their flaws; for he was often the person who was cried on. He would never object, no matter how heavy the weight upon him became. He would never have the ability to bring himself to, anyway.
   
Primrose placed a slender hand on his cheek and pressed her lips against his other in quick farewell, before turning and heading off into what now was daylight. Markus watched her stride off, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she shot glances both ways down the road and hurried off without a last glimpse.

Markus raised a shaky hand to his face, but didn't touch his skin where she did. How the hell was he to interpret that? What kind of mixed signals was she intending to send? He and Primrose were very close friends for almost a decade. Was this a sign of friend advancement? Best friends? The two of them were already engaged in relationships. Perhaps that was an American way to thank friends, and her boyfriend passed it on to her. Markus was pretty sure Americans didn't do that. French people did to greet friends, exchanging hellos in pecks on the cheeks, but Primrose wasn't French. Was she?

He narrowed his eyes. How strong were French people's immune systems? Kissing strangers seemed very unsanitary to him. Did they actually kiss strangers, or was that just a stereotype? Wait, wasn't that Spain?

He let his hand fall into his lap and let out a defeated sigh. He refused to think about it anymore. He stood and slipped an arm through the strap of his bag and took his drink in his hand with the other. He shot a glance over his shoulder, only to see the barista leaning over the counter with his head in his palms.

"Girl trouble, eh?" He teased, pursing his lips.

Markus stared at him, a faint pink stretching across his nose.
"She's a friend," He assured, more to himself than the barista. "Only a friend." The barista raised his eyebrows and smirked, and at that moment, Markus decided that he would only leave a two dollar tip.

He longed to return to his apartment and lay his head on Valentine's chest and kiss his neck, then stare up at the ceiling and recount the day's events to him. But he couldn't. Especially with Valentine himself being one of the day's events.
Markus then considered if Val would like anything, and ordered his favorite affogato to go leave on their doorstep. He didn't even know if Valentine was home. He just needed something to do while he wasting time avoiding school.