Ice Cream on Lips (Anxieties Blissed) | RenMark/MarkRen

The Confrontation of a Stranger

Mark was working on an assignment that was due in roughly six hours, and he was starting to regret taking A.P. Chemistry while signing up for Track. Practice that day had dragged on until late into the afternoon, and by the time Mark had gotten back home, backpack ladened with equipment and the day's assignments, it had been nearing dusk.

So, he had skipped dinner, sat himself down, and gotten to work on the four-paged package that had been handed out the morning during Algebra II, and only just finished it when the clock struck eleven.

The only other assignments he had left were an essay due the next week and some finishing touches on a report of an experiment they had done that day. He would have checked over his work and made sure that he had gotten the details and measurements and such correct and ready to turn in, but...

He had a craving.

It was a craving he had been feeling for the past week or so, and it was almost like a regular routine by that point: go to school, get home, do some work, and then reward himself with the sweet bliss of creamed ice on his tongue.

So, with a loud groan and an even louder protest from his aching joints as he stretched his taut body, Mark made his swift, careful escape from his sleeping house and tip-toed down to the convenience store a few blocks away.

He entered the store with casual exhaustion, making a bee-line toward the back, where the freezers hid. He approached the ice cream section and allowed his eyes to roam across his options, before settling soundly on a quiet half-gallon of Neapolitan that nestled comfortably along the freezer's tiled floor. He arrived at the checkout counter with his wallet at the ready, absentmindedly thumbing through a few bills as he stared listlessly at his reflection in the polished tiled surface.

"Before I give you the price on this thing, I think I should give you fair warning that you shouldn't eat this all in one sitting."

Mark startled at the sudden conversation that wasn't the mandatory exchange of information and stared at the cashier with an expression he was sure turned out to be deer-caught-in-the-headlights-esque if the cashier's amused grin was anything to go by.

Mark gaped and sputtered for a few seconds more before gathering about all the wits he was going to use on the remainder of his experiment's report to respond with an eloquent, "Okay?"

The cashier returned the reply with a scoff-turned-smile before calling an end to the conversation and scanning the ice cream's bar code.

Mark, still bewildered by the out of place interaction, dazedly handed over an odd handful of bills he didn't bother to count as the cashier announced the price. He was lucid enough to mutter out a "keep the change or whatever" before making to grab the container before the cashier could properly bag it.

"You know," the cashier called out just as Mark allowed the automatic doors to let the fresh, night breeze blow through the entrance, "I only say that because I see you in here every night, and every time you've only bought ice cream."

Mark blinked, churning the words about in his sleep-hazed mind, before nodding dumbly at the cashier's words. Mark didn't really understand what the two things had to do with one another, but Mark figured if he faked it until he made it, he could get into his bed sooner.

Mark could see the cashier roll his eyes, and he felt a slight pang of offense run through his body, but couldn't hold onto the feeling for very long before exhaustion washed over him. The cashier raised his voice so it could be heard from Mark's distanced position, over the quiet rustling of faraway nature.

"I'm saying you should cut back on the ice cream, dude," were the blunt words to slap Mark awake for the second time that night.

Mark gave the cashier a scrutinizing gaze, spotting his thin name tag amongst the obnoxious pink of uniform, and huffed when he couldn't locate a hint of malice in Renjun's eyes.

"Well, thanks for your concern," Mark spoke, voice lofty and deadpanned, "but I think I know how to take care of myself."

Renjun held his arms up in mock surrender, causing a spike of annoyance to run through Mark's blood at the amused grin blossoming along the cashier's lips. 

"Alright. Guess I'll leave you to your stomachache and diabetes, then."

Mark huffed haughtily and didn't want to allow Renjun the satisfaction of a reply, so he turned away from the store and marched back home, ice cream tucked firmly underneath his arm.

--

(Mark slumped over his desk, bangs matted against his slick forehead, and groaned pitifully around the final spoonful of strawberry-coated-vanilla as his stomach gurgled ominously around the earlier consumptions of chocolate-vanilla.

He didn't feel too hot at Track the next morning.)

A/N - getting a call-out post in person.