The Murder Of Willowstream

Ch.10. Session Zero

Willowstream didn't have much in the way of fine dining. There were a few places one could go, but thankfully for Marshal and his limited bank account: Mark and he had decided to keep it as casual as possible, opting for a simple cafe in the middle of town.

His friends did nothing to quell the jittery puddle of nerves he had become. What would he wear? Would he talk too much? Who paid for everything? As the clock ticked closer to date time: he felt suffocated and nauseous like the air had suddenly become too thick for his lungs to process. He was sweating in places he didn't know he could sweat, and had constantly worried at his lip until it was raw.

To his horror: Lilly insisted that she chaperone, and given the circumstances it probably would've been wise to allow her to. Despite Marshal eventually convincing her otherwise, he still half expected to spot her in a wig and sunglasses watching from another table.

The cafe was called "Soft Beans" and this was where Rhys worked when he wasn't with the group or at school, and he felt some small comfort in the knowledge that it was somewhere so familiar. Even more so when Rhys had made sure to switch shifts so that he wasn't in that night, and that he had already alerted the staff to look after Marshal.

They had sat at a window booth. The window tinted ever so slightly so that one could look out, but others couldn't look in. There was the ever present smell of coffee and baked goods that teased at Marshals stomach, another thing that made him incredibly self conscious as he crossed his arms across his waist in an attempt to quash the gurgled protests.

Luckily, he didn't seem to be able to focus much on what he was doing. He was too busy looking at Mark.

Mark had dressed smart casual for the evening. A simple, collared shirt, the colour of the summers sky. Marshals favourite colour. Or at least it was now. Or maybe it was the slightly darker shade that Marks eyes held that had became his favourite? They twinkled with a sublime happiness at the whipped cream he licked off the spoon, and somehow managed to get a dot of it on his nose.

Mark didn't think he had a favourite colour. That was until Marshal had said a non-committal "Blue", and all of a sudden Mark found that, that was his favourite colour too, for it seemed he now saw it everywhere.

Mark seemed to be a messy eater, the whipped cream that had topped his strawberry flavoured milkshake was the tail end of an entire ordeal that involved ketchup, fries, and hitting everywhere but his mouth.

His mouth was something that Marshal couldn't help but become obsessed with whenever attention was brought to it; whether that be by Marks tongue jabbing at the sauce stuck to the corners, or the way Mark absently mindedly rubbed his thumb against the bottom lip when he listened to Marshal speak. The fullness of Marks lips nourished a completely different type of hunger within Marshal. It was a hunger that sat at the back of his throat he thought. His tongue begged for a taste, to explore what wonders those lips held, and his own mouth felt hot and burning for the contact. It made listening very difficult.

When it wasn't his lips that he was obsessed with, it was Marks arms. They looked strong, straining against the fabric of his shirt, his forearms seemed particularly firm as they peeked from the rolled up sleeves. Marshall wondered what it would be like to be held by those arms. He'd bet they were soft, and warm.

All these thoughts had sent Marshal's mind into a flurry of jumbled feelings. There was happiness, a different kind than he normally felt when around his friends. This one seemed a little more selfish than that, like this little piece of time had been cut out just for him. It was special, and golden. The moment that set it as the night he would remember forever had come when he apologised for rambling too much about drawing fruit in class, and how he was certain the teacher had no idea what she was talking about, and Mark simply smiled and told him he never has to apologise to him for talking about something he cares about.