Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BRINGBRINGBRING!
Mark jolts up to the sound of an alarm blaring in his ear, he turns his head around, eyes barely open to look at the time, which reads 10:24 AM. He proceeds to reach his sore left arm out, all coming-of-age movie style, to slam it off. After doing so, he lays in bed facing forward, just barely awake and eyes still closed, thinking about why the hell his alarm is going off so early. He usually doesn’t gotta work till 12, ain’t it a Saturday? Whatever.

Mark gets up to sit on his bed, still stuck in his old yellow pajamas that smell with the familiar scent of Sawdust, a calming yet slightly annoying morning smell. Groaning, he gets up while stretching out his whole body, relaxing the tension in his arms as he starts to stand up and crack his back, feeling a wave of relief and released tension on his damn fucked-up bones.
Mark starts to walk over to the bathroom to get cleaned up for a day, even if he isn’t going anywhere he has to at-least look good! Who knows who he’s gonna run into? He may be a wood man, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be clean. He quickly glances back at the alarm clock, noticing the time says 10:27 AM now. Oh well, he thinks. Mark opens the bathroom door, and begins to strip off his clothes and bathe himself in warm water, a good warm morning shower always wakes him up. Warmth. When’s the last time he has felt that? He really only associates warmth with showers. Not like he has much else to really give a comparison to. His friends? I mean sure they make him happy, but not warm.

It’s too early for a damn existential crisis, Mark thinks. He finishes his routine, and steps out of the shower to clean himself off. Throwing on his bathrobe, he brushes his teeth with care and delicacy, being careful of his tooth-gap right in the middle of his top teeth. “What a damn idiot,” he thought. “This is why you should be careful with wood work, stupid young me. Now I’m stuck with a damn tooth gap. Great. What’s Wallter gonna think of it when he really notices it? When will I see him in person once more?”

Oh god… Wallter. Wallter? Wallter!
Mark gasps while his toothbrush still resides in his mouth, and quickly finishes, setting down his brush to rush out back to his bedroom and grab his phone. Damn it, what if Wallter had texted him?! What if he thinks I’m ignoring him? What if?!
Mark begins to open his phone up and scroll to his messenger app, reading the new “Good morning! How are you, sunshine?” messages Wallter always sends him. Oh god, how he was completely lovestruck by him for doing the damn bare minimum. Always saying good morning, checking on him throughout the day, listening to Mark rant about his work or love for wood, and all that jazz. He’s gotten to know Wallt a lot more from just the (almost) one month of constant conversations. Well, only when they were not busy.
Mark's freelancing career and Wallter's hard working job and strict boss made it hard for the two to talk, especially in person. It's embarrassing for Mark to admit, but he's been obsessed with the man he met only once in person, and that he's only known for one month. Oh how he misses that gentle, soothing, almost british-sounding voice. But, it hasn’t been all that bad. Besides, this is Wallter he’s talking about. Nothing could go bad as long as he had Wallter, whether it be through a small bubble on a screen or his frame.

Besides all the kind daily short check-ups Wallt does for Mark, he has definitely gotten to know more about the man! Mark starts to zone out, scrolling through the texts after texts they sent to each other, rereading and reliving all the feeling he got from just reading the other man's texts, just like he does every night going to bed.
For example, he plays the piano, with a concrete build to it like a dork! And beautifully too. The videos Wallt sends of his musical talent is nothing like Mark has ever heard before. He’s never been too much of a music guy, besides the once in a while guitar playing he does, but hearing Wallter play his music feels like the gentle whispering of spring wind. All of it makes Mark feel a bubbling, steaming warmth in his chest which stretches all the way to his lips to curve into a wide smile.
The tender way Wallter’s perfect, bruised up fingers danced throughout the Piano was like he was trying to cast a spell on Mark, and shit was it working. Wallter says he isn’t that good, but Mark thinks he is a damn liar. Mark believes he can truly go on and on about how damn brilliant and musically-talented the man is.

“Hm, maybe I should catch up on Guitar playing,” Mark thinks. “That’ll sure impress a fancy gentleman like him.”

Or, or! Wallter loves poetry! Mark could definitely see why, I mean the guy had a BOOK with him at a DINER. What an absolute dork, Mark thinks while smiling at his phone. He says he enjoys writing it more than reading it, but says he hasn’t caught up on it as of recently. Randomly, Wallter will send whatever Poetry he reads throughout the day on a “daily poetry” website according to him. Usually being about topics of love, typically about two men. Talking about a first meeting, or something. Mark, once in a good while, will imagine him and Wallter in the positions of the two men. Holding hands and kissing, all that mumbo jumbo. But even so, he always wishes to recreate one specific poem, to imagine Wallter on top of him in bed, hands roaming all over the curvature of Mark's body, kissing up and down his neck and upper body, just in total romantic bliss.

Mark doesn’t mind the whole info dumping sessions Wallter will have, even if he isn’t much of a reader. As long as Wallt likes it, he will like it too. Anyway, that damn intellect of Wallter is so goddamn sexy to Mark, he may just pass out from a heart attack thinking about all the random facts on reading and history Wallter tells him throughout the day. His fancy, proper and rich gentleman personality he has going on is so completely opposite of Mark's personality.
“I feel he completes the other dang half of me, the half I never knew existed,” Mark thinks to himself.

And, oh oh! Wallter also enjoys lots of beverages, including-

BZZZZ!
Mark snaps out of his mental rant about the light of his life, and realizes his phone has been buzzing in his hand for a bit of time. Text messages flowing through constantly at the top of the screen, all saying his buddies names, Mark quickly checks his messages, not even getting time to respond to Wallters. Mark scans through all his new messages, all the same uppercase “Where are you?” and, “We are all here already!”
Wait what?, “Here already?”
It’s a damn Saturday, nobody-?
Looking up to check the calendar right above his bedside that sat his alarm clock and phone, he reads today’s date with a big red circle in-between the words “Promoting business day! 10:30 AM”
Mark, with widened eyes and a quivering lip, he slowly looks down at his clock, which reads “10:33 AM,” in big font.
“Awww shit!” Mark quickly screams, and runs to his closet to find a good pair of work clothes and one Rancher hat that isn’t entirely covered in Sawdust.

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

“10:50 AM” Mark reads on his watch, jumping down from his large orange truck to scurry on over to the rest of the goonies. They had all agreed to meet at 10:30 AM to get breakfast together in the big city like real men do, but they had all seemed to have done it without Mark. Mark, still in his cheery upbeat attitude, manages to meet up and greet them like usual, while still entirely out of breath from the wild adrenaline rush he just had.
“I'm here! Im… here… boys…!” Mark says, panting like a sweaty dog in old-fashioned southern summer heat.
Jim steps in front of the others, while the rest continue to giggle and murmur to one another like children.
“The hell were ye? We’ve been waitin’ ’ for almost 20 minutes! We shoulda just left yo ass to go on and do the job yourself!” Jim questions.
“…” Mark stays completely silent, with giggling emitting from behind Jim.
“What!?”
“Oh don’t you dare tell me…”
“Anddd let’s get a move on boys! We don’ got all day! Har har har…” Mark shyly replies to Jims comments while lightly pushing past him, knowing if he told him the truth his partner in crime would never shut his damn purple hat ass up ‘bout it. Then again, Mark knows deep down that he doesn’t have to tell him. He can smell Marks lies like a damn hawk.
“Ironic for you to say that, bruh…” Jim mumbles to himself.

(●´ω｀●)

“Alright, imma go up north street and see if anyone needs fixin’ up n all that jazz. Ron and Billy, yall can go east. Steve, just… do whatever ya want man. And Mark, go south of the main city. Meet back at 12:30. Remember, just stay in the general vicinity. I ain't paying for yalls medical bills if you get hurt or some dumbass shit. Yall got your business cards, correct?” Jim says.
The rest of the group nods their heads, with Mark panicking to check his wallet, pockets, anything for a business card he made. “Damn it!” Mark says to himself, rushing out of the house and bad traffic probably made him lose his train of thought. Damn you, ADHD.
“Mark? Are you serious right now?” Jim says.
“Can I borrow your-“
Jim grabs Mark's left hand and slaps a couple of business cards onto it.
“Just… go do ya thang Mark.”

٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

Mark, about an hour into his search for new clients to appease, already has a good amount of cards handed out with people willing to pay. Though, there were a couple of odd clients he spoke to briefly.
Someone named “Poob,” they called themself, says that random people keep blowing up their house and need someone to constantly fix it every couple of hours. How do they even let these people in? “Whatever, it ain’t my beeswax,” Mark thinks to himself. Only 40 minutes till I’m done for the day, Mark says, soon to go on a good weekend rest.

To cope, in all his boredom and adventurous spirit gone, he begins inspecting the architecture of the area. Majority of modern cities are made out of bricks and concrete, but Mark truthfully really does not get why. Does the beautiful nature of wood not interest those anymore? He really does not grasp his head around it. Ever since he moved out of his wood-loving family and cousins, the world seemed a bit more bland to him. More… gray of sorts.

Stepping out into the real world was scary for him, wood was all he had ever known. Concrete was mentioned for sure, but always frowned upon. His family were very close-knit, never letting Mark get too close to anyone that didn’t have the same interest in wood carving as them. Hating cities like this, made out of mainly concrete and bricks was on the daily.
The family company always needed to be number one on your mind, his “good” ol’ cousin Glevil always said to Mark since he could even process thoughts. That one, they are a bit of a loose string. Mentally. Always going on about how the family business of wood brothers and sisters must “eradicate” anyone who does not like wood, or are not interested in the wooden mannequin-making business.
“They are not one of us.” Glevil repeated, with all his other brethren in a circle chanting the same message.
It was always uncomfortable to Mark, with the whole group participating in these gatherings.
But, the rest of the family followed Glevil's commands like he was a god since he was considered the most mature and oldest by the older folk of the family.

Mark never did, sure he loved wood but that didn’t mean he cared if others didn’t or preferred something other than wood, just like Wallter.
Maybe that is why he was always the black sheep of the family, the two-headed calf that was soon to perish under the weight of something they couldn’t control. Maybe that's why he left the nest so early.
Would loving Wallter be against the family rules? Who am I kidding, Mark says, ‘course it will. But, Mark really doesn’t give a damn. It’s so weird, Mark thinks while walking the streets alone of a crowded, loud city.
Mark never thought he would find himself in this situation. Sure, he’s already “betrayed” the family, but not so upfront. But this? This thing with Wallter?

This would not fly by the family. Especially not with Glevil.

Mark, still blindly thinking about his old family trauma that constantly sinks into his bones, turns his head to look back at the rest of the city and as he turns forward, he harshly came into contact with someone else’s chest, his face stinging from the pain as he lightly stumbles backwards in shock and slight pain. Groaning in pain, he leans down onto his knees to hold his face for a second, but through the gaps of his fingers sees a hand reach out for him.

“Oh, oh my goodness! I’m so- Mark?”
A familiar voice rings in Mark's head. Soft, and gentle. Professional and fancy, somethin’ rich. It can’t be. Is this fate? To meet Wallter at a random spot in the middle of a crowded city?
The pain in his face instantly faded away, from his shock. His ears, if they could, spring up to focus on the voice in front of him. He slowly lowers his hands to come face to face, not chest, with Wallter.
“Wally!” Mark shouts, he instantly stands up and into Wallter’s strong arms, and hugs him tightly as if it was the end of the world.

“-Mark? Oh, how I missed your face!” Wallter steps back with Mark in his arms, having to lean down and bend his back just to be able to properly hug the short man's waist. Wallter and Mark start giggling like lovesick teenagers, when Wallter proceeds to spin him around in circles like they are in a 90s romcom movie. And sure, people were giving odd looks of confusion. But, even if they look stupid and cheesy they didn’t mind. If they were gonna be publicly embarrassed, they would do it together.
The world quickly begins to melt away, and the other in their arms is the only thing the two think about. And they were happy.
They both cease their giggling, and Wallter slowly stops spinning Mark after a few seconds. He sets him down onto the concrete streetwalk.

“I didn’t think I would see you again in person, Mark. I miss looking at you. What are you doing in a big city like this?” Wallter asks.
Mark, completely ignoring anything Wallter asked, says right back, “‘Nuf ‘bout me! What ‘bout you, Wally?”
“I just finished work early today, I walked out of my office building and as I turned, well then this all happened.”
“Ya just finished work? A lil’ before 12? Damn, I’m still on the clock…” Mark looks down at his watch to check the time, it states 11:57 AM.
“Not usually, this is just one of those days where my boss decides he doesn’t want to be a boss that day and sends us on our way. Quite lazy, don’t you think? I could definitely do much better as a leader than that… lazy slob. Maybe I should start a business of my own, just like you Mark.” Wallter says with a shy tilt of his head, and crosses his arms in front of his body with his shoulders high, and gives a small smile down at Mark.

Mark might be going crazy, but he swears on his beautiful wooden slates and everything he’s ever acquired in his life that Wallter said that last sentence with genuine, loving intent. I mean sure, the guy always speaks with high prestige, but this? No, his voice had gone slightly higher than it usually is. Barely even, not noticeable to the average person. Mark was never an average Joe, though.
Wallters voice became more sultry and smooth, no voice cracks or scratches in the way he talked, like someone usually would have. What proved Mark's point more was the smile he gave after, and what he even said in the first place. The way Wallter refrained himself from coming off as mean about his boss, the pause in between ‘that’ and ‘lazy slob.’

Starting his own business because of him? Being his own boss, like Mark? Does he not know how hard it is to gain your own business? All because of just some wood-loving country boy he met at a random diner.

I’ve never known someone like you Wally, Mark thinks to himself.

Chapter Text

“I have never known someone like you, Wally.” Mark thinks. 

“…Mark, no offense but you have been staring at me for a good ten seconds. Did I say something wrong, dear? I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundaries,” Wallter stated. 

“Ah! Oh, no you’re good Wally. I was jus’ thinkin’ about work and what I gotta do n all that,” Mark turns his head down to look at his watch. 12 o’clock exact, “Damn. Still got thirty minutes left…”

“Thirty minutes of what? Actually, I had asked you this but you seemed to have been in your own world. What are you doing in the middle of the big city like this, and I am assuming those cards are related to that reason?”Wallter asks, with a curious head tilt.

“Oh, these are just, erm, business cards to pass out! Me n’ the boys are tryna promote our wood commissions to people so we can get more clients n’ all that beeswax!” Mark exclaims, with a proud smile on his face. Mark knows how damn good of a builder he is, and isn’t afraid to show it off. 

“Has it been successful so far?”

“Sure is! I got a coup ol’ people asking and willing to pay good money.”

“How peculiar. This is some good information for starting up a small business… Say, do you need to do this often? Just walk around and ask people if they need help with their architectural design? Or can you get someone else working for you to do so?” Wallter asks, with a teasing glint in his eyes and smile. 

“Yea, brick boy! I don’t see the problem with that, considering being the boss n’ all that you got a lotta things to do, might as well get someone else ta do so!” Mark replies.

“So, like a delivery boy?”

“Sure thing!”

“Then, would you want to be my delivery boy someday?“

“What? Why me?”

Wallter steps one foot closer to Mark and leans down slightly, to try his best to match Mark's height. He gently raised up Marks hat, so he can get a proper look at him. 

“Because when a passionate and charming little man such as yourself could get so many people to pay for your work, you’d be the perfect show-off for my business. Watching you run around like a lost puppy, scurrying around with a nervous look would make my day, too.” Wallter says while starting to giggle, and drops his hand from Marks hat, to put his hand over his mouth with his eyes shut in laughter.

Now obviously Mark's mind isn’t going to a dirty place. No, not at all. Nuh uh! That small comment doesn't make Mark's face turn into a tomato, his stomach filling with tiny little butterflies. It totally isn’t attractive to imagine Wallter being on top of him, the more controlling and dominant one of the relationship. Usually, Mark typically likes to fill that role but throw in a hot tall slab of concrete and that's all it takes for Mark to fold. And of course, Wallter didn’t mean to phrase it that way, just a simple light lovey-dovey tease, nothing deeper than that level.

“Get your mind outta the gutter Mark!” He screams at himself mentally. But, it’s not like he is opposed to it either. I mean, it’s Wallter we are talking about here. 

But man, he misses this. The face to face conversations with Wallter, even if they had only seen each other face to face once before this. Mark doesn’t mind texting, but god does it feel even better to feel Wallter against his body. To feel his laughter emit from his chest, bubbling to the surface with a clean and gentle smile that feels like the light at the end of the tunnel for Mark. The way he stands up so tall and strong, not with an ego but with confidence. His shoulders back, his eyes always focused onto whoever he talks with, especially Mark. His eyes are a way of seeking deep inside of his soul, saying “I enjoy our time together.” 

Simply with the way he talks, he speaks like he knows damn well he’s intelligent, which he is totally correct about. Mark thinks if he were at the same level of intellect Wallter was, he would too. 

To hear his tender voice, the way he speaks like he means it. He speaks with no lies in his voice, to just even speak like he puts every thought and genuine care into what he will say, he sounds like a professional craftsman that puts all of his spirit, wisdom and world into whatever he will reply with in a conversation. Such a minor, insignificant thing to think about, how you talk. Yet, Wallter still puts thought into it. 

And as dorky as it is, it’s fucking mesmerizing. 

He is truthful and honest. Doesn’t like to lie. And what really gets Mark is that the concrete man always chooses to kill 'em’ with kindness over general harsh words, like when he talked about his boss.  

It’s all so… humane. Yet he still somehow always remains gentle with a soft voice. All of this, completely opposing Mark's early stages of his life and how it rubs off on him now. 

Mark, brainstorming all the things he adores about Wallter, realizes the real situation at hand.

When will he ever get this chance again? This meeting was only by random chance, no way this was not just pure coincidence. It just so happened that Mark was in the city area where Wallter worked, and Wallter had finished early at work. They were so busy all the damn time. But now, early in the morning with Wallter and Mark not having anything to do that day makes Mark feel a wave of excitement he has never experienced in his sad sorry life.

And as Wallter still stands there, his giggles dying down with Marks wide-eye gaze on him, he comes to a realization that he probably should have known since the day he met the man. But even then, he still isn’t so sure one hundred percent what Mark adores so much about Wallter. A sense of security? That feeling of belongingness he never felt as a young boy? What was it that drew the two together? 

He doesn’t fully know yet. But there is something he knows, after that short time spent away from one another physically, he can say this from the deepest parts of his mind and soul.

He needs to be with him, be near him, even if it’s just for this one day. Mark never truly realized until this moment, until as simple as Wallter’s laughter that he is unbearably touch starved of Wallter. It’s like a loss of soul to Mark when their bodies disconnect from one another. 

Wallter is the air to Mark's lungs, constantly needing to breathe him in to feel alive. Every hit he takes of the man feels like a new breath of fresh air, like something to look forward to even if it’s just one small good-morning. To be in the same vicinity as Wallter, to breathe the same damn air. No, to even breathe the same air as Wallter is a gift from whatever god had helped him to meet this man, something that shouldn’t be free to just anyone. 

He cannot lose Wallter to someone else, and to thank the god damn lucky stars Wallter chose him that night at the diner. Mark felt so special, to be graced with the presence of such a lovely man. He was granted God's greatest gift of life, a lover to possibly spend the rest of his days with. 

Someone so opposite of him, Wallters quiet and self-reserved attitude to Mark's loud and boastful self. He needed this. And with that feeling, comes another realization.

He can’t take this anymore, this feeling he mentioned simmering inside every little crevice, every inch of his body, from his nervous system to the muscles in his body.

He can’t take it anymore. And Wallter doesn’t have a damn clue about that, does he?

He can’t fight this urge anymore, Mark internally says with a low rumbling somewhere deep down in his soul. 

He really thinks he is about to burst. 

“I’d… I’d do anything ya ask me, Wally.”

Wallter ceases all laughter, and stares down at him with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. His emotions are completely undetectable and new to Mark. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look angry either. Surprise was probably the best he could do to describe Wallters outside state right now. 

“Wait, that sounded a lil’ more forward than I wanted it to be! I mean, I think I made it obvious but- but uh, I got something to ask you” Mark pauses, and Wallter gives him a look of concern. 

“So- so y’know how we both haven't seen each other in a bit?”

Wallter silently nods.

“And how, like, uhm, we are both free for the rest of the day? And uhm, that I miss being around you like uh, physically?” 

“And that we mayormaynothaveanotherchancetobealonelikelasttimesoIwasjust-“ 

Wallter shushes Mark by placing his finger on his lips, a reminder for Mark to never wash that specific section of his lips after this moment ever again. 

“I actually… also wanted to ask you something. It's honestly why I asked what you were doing here in the city, and I think it would be better to ask in person.”

Mark's blood runs completely cold now, frozen in fear. 

“But… what you had been going on about sounded quite similar to my exact thought process, and my question.”

Did he overthink Wallters intentions? 

“Would you like to say it together?” Wallter smiles. He smiles.

…Mark smiled too. 

“Y-yeah of course darlin’. On the count ‘o three?” 

Wallters smile grows wider, and shakes his head up and down to say ‘yes’ as if he has no patience. 

They chant together, both smiling so hard their cheeks glow red from the pain, the pain of true joy;

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

“Would you like to go on a date together?!”

They have an intense staring contest right afterwards, in complete shock and disarray by what happened.

Mark wasted absolutely no time, and to Wallters shock proceeds to grab Wallters left hand and starts bolting down the street to find his truck. Wallter followed as best as he could behind him, running as fast as he could.

They sprint right past the bright lights, the noisy streets full of traffic, and the loud crowds of people chattering amongst themselves. Yet somehow, none of that concerned them both. They were in their own world now. Their own world to build together, with concrete and wood. 

And as they ran by Jimmy and the rest of the gang on accident, Mark remembered he had a job to do. Off in thirty minutes, about to come home and now he's sprinting down the city streets with the absolute love of his life. 

He knew Jim would definitely be on his ass about this later, hearing his name being screamed down the street, but he didnt care. Everything else around them faded away into white noise. 

They finally catch up to Mark's truck, and of course he sees Jimmy sprinting down the streets to catch up to ‘em. 

“Say hello to my baby, Wallt!” Mark exclaims, in the most breath he can manage to catch.

“Uh Mark.. can I- can I be honest? I am a bit scared of- of big vehicles. Do you think maybe we could-“

“I promise you Wallt, I will make sure nothing happens to ya darlin’. Ill help ya up,” Mark says, as Wallter begins to scurry on into the truck, Marks hands are along his waist just to let him know, 

“I am here.”

Mark, hearing Jimmy catchup close down the street, quickly hops into the driver seat of his beloved truck and quickly hits the gas.

As the car begins to race off into the (somehow) open street with Jimmy right on their tail, Mark yells from the open window,

 “Sorry Jimmy!”

Then drives off into the sunset with his beloved, who seems to be slightly shaking.

“Wally? C’mon baby, talk to me. Whaddaya need right now? Ya can hold onto me, this girls a ‘lil low on her gas. Can I wrap my arm around ye?”

Wallter nods. Mark wraps his right arm around Wallters neck with his left hand on the wheel, making sure he feels as safe as possible. 

“Lean into me hunny. There ya go.”

A few seconds go by and Wallters small shaking begins to come to a full stop, as Mark hears Wallter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Can you drop your arm from my shoulder now?”

Mark lowers his right arm onto the driving stick. 

“Of course, sorry if I invaded ya space there a ‘lil-“ 

Wallter wraps his left arm around Mark's muscular right arm, with his right hand on Mark's chest. He then leans his lips close to Marks ear and whispers;

“My hero.”

Mark then proceeds to almost run straight into a tree. 

Chapter Text

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

“Would you like to go on a date together?!”

Both of them shout at once, exactly in sync.

 Mark seems to be shaking in his boots, like he’s ready to explode like a firework. Wallter being the same with a wide smile on his face, eyes crinkling and his cheeks hurting in pain out of complete bliss. Still standing in the morning hot sun, with his tight long sleeved clothes on. With small beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, ruining the smooth foundation and precise skin care he does every single morning. He wouldn’t miss any of that for the world, but why now? Why ruin his neat appearance now? 

Ah, of course. Him. 

Wallter wonders how he even got to this point in their “relationship.”

He remembers that night. He remembers, oh yes he does.

Wallter has never liked the idea of a chaotic lifestyle. Not much of a party guy, he enjoys the finer things in life. Like delicately-crafted food at classy quiet restaurants. Or peaceful car rides to work, no music with tinted sound-proof windows so he doesn’t have to hear whatever useless chatter people are having. There is nothing he dislikes more than loud noise, like how he views most musical tunes. However, he most certainly enjoys classical music, humming and whistling to it whenever he gets the chance to listen. Maybe even in the car to work, if he’s just in the right mood. Classical music is majestic and hypnotizing, just the right pitch for him to really enjoy.  Just like the Piano, which he enjoys playing his favorite classical songs on. The piano, a delicate soft sounding instrument, unlike those noisy loud boxes of junk like the drums or a guitar. 

His physical  appearance perfectly replicates this persona of his. He typically wears a basic, long dark grey work jacket. With a light grey long sleeve turtle-neck underneath, and matching dark grey pants and shoes. His favorite outfit combo. No visible wrinkles, no stains or whatever gross matter that comes from the outside or nature. None of that. 

After all that, who wouldn’t love the quiet life? 

Only loud brutes with no class or prestige wouldn’t, that’s who. It was just the perfect fit for someone. Very high-brow, such as himself. He wasn’t interested in anything else other than the life he had now.

Or so he thought, before he met him.

“Oh c'mon Walt! Just one date, you know you wanna go out with a guy like me! You’re a fine piece of meat like myself, it’s perfection. Hey, I’ll even take ya to that fancy new diner down the road, the uh… Ball place? Whatever, doesn’t matter!” Whatever-his-name-was said to Wallter, as he leaned on the side of Wallters work desk. 

“I already said no. I gave you my answer, and it’s a firm no. Now please leave me alone, I have work to do and my shift is almost over.” Wallter says not making eye contact with the guy, while he proceeds to make a shooing motion with his hands. This man isn’t worth my time, Wallter thinks.

“The hell? I’m the lead man here! I'm not just a simple architect here, I am way above your pay grade! Sure, I ain’t your boss! But I can still tell you what to do, or else I can notify the boss you are slacking off on your damn hours.”

“And how will he believe you on that?”

“More than he will believe you, that’s for sure. I see you always arguing with the big man, talking up to his face about how he doesn’t treat his employers right, how he can’t even plan out a simple building layout without someone on his team's help. Or whatever else you were yapping about.” The random dude states. 

“You just need to open your damn mouth every meeting, don’t you? And now, it backfired on you. Because if you don’t go on this date with me, then I’ll tell him you’ve been leaving early just to avoid talking to him.”

Wallter doesn’t confirm nor deny this accusation, simply pausing his typing on the computer and staring off into the distance. Why is this dude being so damn insistent on taking Wallter out? Just because he is conventionally attractive? How pathetic. 

Though, Wallter supposes he could get a free dinner out of him. Why the hell not? 

“So what’ll it be, wall man?”

Wallter lets out a loud and long sigh of bottled anger. 

“Will you be paying for our food?” 

“Uh, sure I guess.”

Wallter lets out another loud and long sigh of bottled anger.

“Fine.”

Whatever-his-face screams,  “Fuck yeah!” outloud, causing a scene and making it so that everyone has eyes on Wallter.

Not good. This is opposite of how Wallter likes to spend his days, good lord. 

“I need to go home and change, boy! You better meet me there at midnight! Oh oh, and here’s my number written down! Woohoo!” Rando guy exclaims, as he passes over a piece of small paper and a pen to Wallter.

I wonder if this man intends to take me home tonight, Wallter thinks. No fucking way is he even thinking that, right? Is that why he’s so excited? How pathetic. There’s no way Wallter would feel safe being unconscious n the same bed or room with someone random. Not even a small nap.

 No way. Not with someone he doesn’t trust.

No going back now. Let’s just get this over with, Wallter says to himself. 

His alarm finally goes off, it’s time to go. He picks up the note and pen. Then gently picks up his precious book, making sure to keep it close to him at all times for the next few hours. 

d(￣ ￣)

“Where the hell is this guy?”

 Wallter says to himself, while staring at the book he already finished, like a damn hour ago since his shift ended. It’s already 12:10 by this point, and the increasingly loud music and bright lights are starting to irk him to no end. Might as well order another cup of tea, he tells himself. 

He really didn’t think this would be a club kind of place. I mean, whatever-the-dudes-name-was described it to be a fancy restaurant, not a god damn rave. 

“Excuse me? Could I get another cup of tea, please? Thank you.” He tells the nearest waiter walking by. To his annoyance, he noticed she had blocked the stairwell which he was glancing at ever so often to see whether his date was going to appear or not. She nods and writes it down and nods, and as she quickly walks away to do her job. As she walks away, he quickly glances behind her to get a good look at a group of big men walking in. They look something like construction workers, the men at the front screaming and punching one another, with others around the entrance looking uncomfortable. ‘Nothing new to see there, they fit right into this joint’ , Wallter notes to himself. 

As they all walk by, a man in a light brown cowboy hat and a plaid sleeveless top also follows, looking absolutely exhausted and burnt out. Even from a distance with glasses, Wallter can see the sweat dribbling down his face, his mouth agape clearly showing the man’s missing front teeth, as he struggles to catch his breath. He looks like your average masculine man, gruff looking with muscles, long hair in a ponytail and a beard stubble, with a bandaid right on the bridge of his nose. He begins to laugh out loud, thing his arms up in the air with a groggy expression, and says something along the lines of “we made it!” in a silly manner. 

Wallter had to admit, as loud as this man seemed, he was quite attractive appearance wise. Usually he would find men like this a nuisance, just like that nobody guy from work, or the cowboy-looking man’s group of buddies. 

But something about this guy was different, he clearly wasn’t being loud like most men for attention purposes. Just to celebrate a small goal with his friends, like someone of a caring, trusting heart would do. It was a bit dorky, in a cute way.

Wallter began to watch this man from a distance, as Mark and his friends were seated at the table away from him. No intense expression on his face, just general curiosity. The cowboy man seems to be arguing with his friend over something, also covering his ears in pain from the loud music and bright lights. He also seems to not enjoy loud environments after a long day of work (or what Wallter assumes to be work) like himself, huh? What a funny little man, Wallter decides. 

Such a funny little man that the guy leans his head back on his chair, just as Wallter quickly looks down at his book, barely in time for the man to not notice his staring. God damn it. Now it looks like he’s into him.

And Wallter can’t have that happening, right? Not with that guy, no.

~

“Wallter? Hunny? Don’t freak out, mkay…”

Wallter is lightly awaken by Mark, with the car feeling much slower than before trying to remember where he was originally. He remembers now, running away at high speed. Hopping into a scary big truck, driving off with Mark. Warmth. Mark almost crashing into a tree. Falling asleep and barely keeping his eyes open, but seeing glimpses of the outside world. Going out of the city. The Quiet. The sun starting to dim a little. The last thing he remembers is driving down a one way street, with a large field of just trees scattered around the place, and large cornfields and small farmhouses in the far distance. 

Wallter sits up from Mark's shoulder, now worried he may have hurt him from napping most of the bumpy car ride. I guess tall, large vehicles aren’t as bad as he thought.

The truck then jumps up, bouncing Mark and Wallter up from their seats with Wallter hitting his head on the roof lightly, with the truck coming to a complete stop, making a loud pumping noise from the outside of the vehicle.

“…Mark what just happened?”

“So uh… remember when I said I wanted to take ya out on a nice date?”

Wallter stares at him with wide eyes.

“So, I wanted to kinda have a lil’ adventure out in the open, but ended up gettin’ lost 'on the way there by taking a random street… andbydoingsoIthinkthecarranoversomethingsharpandnowthewheelsmightbustedup. Har har har...”

Wallter death stares him down, with Mark becoming noticeably anxious under his gaze.

 Wallter feels his heart stop, his breath quickening with sweat dripping down his face as he now realizes that he is stuck in the middle of nowhere, on a one-street, and far away from any police station or help. Mind you, stuck in a very large vehicle with dirt and grime all around him. In the hot blazing sun. 

All of this, this is too much. Too much for someone like Wallter. 

“And why didn't you wake me up earlier to let me know we were lost, Mark?”

Now, Wallter knows he has multiple options. Stay here with Mark, again in the middle of nowhere with no place to go, or walk back on his own and see what happens. 

“Because I didn’t wanna wake ya, hunny buns. You looked so peaceful when ya sleeped, I couldn’t-“

Impulsively, he chooses the first option.

“I’m out.”

“…What? You ain't goin out there all alone! Not with me here!”

“I’m gonna walk back on my own. I’ll see you later Mark-“

Wallter opens the door, being hit with an immediate heat wave and looks down at the extreme height of the truck, with all the dust and particles scattered on the rough one-way street that could stain his best work clothes. 

Wallter immediately shuts the car door. 

Mark quietly says “What’d I say, baby? I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you, promise. When you're with me, I’ll be your bodyguard. I’ll do anything for you to feel safe. Tell me, what do you need right now? Ya anxious?”

Wallter pauses on that. Mark already knows an extent to Wallters fear of large vehicles by that brief interaction in the city.

 Wallter turns his head away to face the truck window. His ears start to ring with panic and uncertainty. His heart rate increasingly got worse and worse, with Mark starting to catch on. Wallters hands start to shake slightly, Wallter roughly puts his right hand on his left to hide his very obvious physical symptoms. 

He really, truly wants to answer with, “yes, I’m literally stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a big pile of metal, with cornfields upon cornfields away from any people for who knows how far, with my nicest clothes. And worst of all, I am scared to do anything out of the ordinary because I am so used to the quiet 24/7, that having the only person by me that is the complete opposite of me and what I like is scary and new to me. I trusted you to take me somewhere safe and fun and it was thrown out the window, and now I don't know what to do with you, Mark.”

But instead, he chooses to say;

“…No. I-I’m fine. Just, go do what you gotta do. Don’t-“

Mark cups both of Wallters hands with his own and leans in closer to him. 

Wallter turns his head around to meet him halfway. 

Mark starts to smile, giving a reassuring look of trust and genuine concern. His eyes crinkle in the process.

His eyes.

Wallter didn’t really notice this at first, but Mark's eyes are actually brown. A warm, orange-ish brown that mixes perfectly with the warmth from the sun. When the sun hits Mark's eyes, he can see every detail of his pupil up close, all the intricate lines woven together to form what looks to be similar to a spiderweb. The yellow drips of light seeping into his eyes that look like sweet golden honey. 

And oh, the sun. 

The sun was directly behind Mark, perfectly framing the right side of his face with an orange-yellow ring around him. Putting definition on his cheekbones, his dirty blonde hair and stubble, the dents and crinkles on his tired skin also catching the suns natural radiance. But my oh my, his soft capped and plump pink lips that never left the touch of the tip of Wallters finger. Everything about him is making his eyes burn, in the best way he has felt.

Mark seems to always shine so bright in a field of emptiness and gloom, that Wallter feels he must turn his head away once more, but just a second this time. His eyes remind him of all the times Wallter and Mark had talked and talked when they had nothing going on, whether it be morning time at work or late at night. The good mornings, the rants Wallter went on about whatever Poetry or songs on the Piano he leant, and Mark just listens. He listens as if he actually cares about what Wallter talks about and wants to know what it’s all about, like he actually wants to know Wallter.

And oh, the way Wallter swoons when Mark texts back at the speed of light as if he was waiting for him. It makes him feel like somebody. 

Like he is worth this. It feels like lightning rushing through his bones at the highest voltage possible, it’s that rush of afterlife that keeps him up at night. Mark. Mark. Mark. Is all he ever thinks about in his sleep, in his dreams and in his bright sunny days. 

Its warmth, and gentleness and all the excitement from a man that Wallter has not experienced in a long, long time. His genuine need to tend to Wallters anxiety without Wallter having to ask is something new, something that makes his chest feel soft and light, like butterflies and flowers blooming all over his body.

It’s all too sweet for Wallter to bare. Yet, he is still here with him. 

Why? What made this man so special that he is convincing Wallter to genuinely stay stuck in the middle of nowhere with him? 

But Wallter is rambling on, at this point. 

He knows why. 

Wallter snaps out of his thoughts, by Marks warm, rough hand touching his right cheek to guide Wallters face to meet his once more.

“Wallter. I need you to trust me here. You are my biggest priority here, not the car or me but you. I want you to know you can trust me. I promised to keep you safe and make this a fun first date and I intend to keep doin that. I know it may be hard, but imma need you to calm down for a minute. You don’t have to speak, just give me a nod or a sign that ya hear me.”

Wallter, his own body moving without thought, nods his head. 

“Breathe with me hunny, look in my eyes if ya need. In n’ out…”

Mark inhales.

Wallter inhales.

Mark exhales.

Wallter exhales. 

¨Good honey, you are doin’ so well. Keep doin what ya were jus’ doin’… you are okay…”

Mark inhales.

Wallter inhales.

Mark exhales.

Wallter exhales, one last time. 

He feels the weight of everything around him start to disappear, completely forgetting they were supposed to even be on a date. The only thing he’s focused on is the sun. 

Oh, and the heat from the big ball of flames I guess.

“Thank you so much for trusting me with this. Are ya feeling a lil better, Wally?”

“…When did you start calling me that?”

Mark's face twists in an uncomfortable manner, like he’s hiding something. 

“Huh? Whaddya mean?”

Wallter smiles at this, thinking the way he’s trying so hard to avoid the question is absolutely adorable. 

“Wally. When did you start calling me that?” 

“I-I got no clue whatcha talking about, Wallter. I ain’t never called you Wally once. Not once. Unless ya want me to, then Itotallycould-“

“Please do.”

Marks face (very noticeably) warms up, and with the sun in the background his face starts to blend into the burning hot ball of life and excitement, in which Wallter struggles to differentiate the two from one another. A soul to soul connection, perhaps?

“I-okay! I can totally do that, just uhm- let me know if I ever make ya uncomfortable mkay? I totally-“

“It’s okay, honey tree.”

“Wha- hhhhuh? Why that?”

Walter leans in closer to Mark, hooking his pointer finger on the collar of Mark's plaid shirt. Making sure Mark pays full attention to him.

“Because your eyes remind me of honey from a tree glistening in the sun on a sunny day. Even better, you’re just as sweet as honey. It almost makes me want to eat you up.” Wallter says, the last sentence barely a whisper while he stares down at Mark's lips.

Mark's eyes shoot open. “R-really? Wowie… They ain’t all that perty. Ain’t nobody ever said that to me before.”

“I’m glad to be the first then.”

Mark's face sinks into his body, with his eyes peering up at Wallter with a shy expression. “M-mhm… har har. Anyways! Are you feeling any better-“

 The random car jump comes back, alerting Mark as he quickly shoots his head out the window.  

“Ah shit! I needa try n see if I got more tires…”

“Shouldn’t we just… call someone? The police? I know we are far away from the main city area but not to sound offensive hun… do you even know how to fix a vehicle?”

“Damn right I do, Wally! I’m the best uh… fixer car-er upper there is! Trust me darlin’!” 

Wallter stares at him with an obvious ‘I do not trust you at all to fix this’ look, but decides it would be very funny to watch Mark fix his hunk of metal.

“Sure…”

Mark opens the truck door to jump out, but looks back at Wallter to make sure he’s okay, realizing he still has his fancy jacket on.

“Ain’t you hot in that thang?! Wanna put it in the backseat?”

Wallter, even forgetting he had it on, questions how he can make this situation more entertaining. Calm, but bored out of his mind decides to keep egging Mark on. After all, Mark really does look his best when he’s stuttering and tripping over his own feet. 

He replies while leaning back in his chair and says, “Do whatever you want with me.”

Mark, being the absolute oblivious fool says, “Nah nah! I mean genuinely. I want ya permission for me to pur my hands on ya, and for me to take it off. I don’t wanna do nothin’ you uncomfortable with. I just really don’t want you to overheat or nothin’, I’m already getting hot just looking at ya!”

Wallter stares at him with a blank expression.

“Wait! N-not like that! I mean you just look so hot in that, like in a way where youlookverylikehotfromthesun, notthatyouaren’tattractiveIjustdidntmeanitinthatway-“

“Just do it already, you damn himbo.”

“-On it!”

Mark quickly but carefully to not damage it, takes off Wallters jacket and folds in up, and gently sets in in the backseats.

Wallter quietly laughs at this, while rolling up his sleeves. Folding it up all nice for him? How polite. 

Mark opens the door once more and says, “Let me know if you need anything! Imma try and see if I have an extra tire, hope only one of em got damaged. Can I open yer door to make sure you’re safe?”

“Of course.”

Marks jumps out, and Wallter hears faint footsteps walking over to the trunk and opening it, with quiet following after. Wallter then hears a bag of supplies clunking around, and Marks grunting.

Mark walks around to the side to Wallters door.

“Whew! Thank god there’s an extra tire! Now lemme just check if only one of em old ones broke… could’ve sworn I heard two loud-ass pops down there…”

Mark sets down the tire and bag of materials, and glances under the truck, crawling underneath to get a good look. Wallter notices as Mark pulls himself down under the truck, Marks shirt tugs up to reveal his stomach. 

Wallter flustered at this, thinks of telling Mark that real men just rip their shirts off and get to work. But holds off on it, obviously being that it may be too forward of a comment to make. But god, is he bored. 

Wallter obviously can’t really help Mark, and isn’t in the state to do so. At least Mark is ready for the job, wearing a sleeveless ripped flannel and baggy pants and supposedly knows how to fix a tire (which Wallter HIGHLY doubts, but that’s besides the point.) 

Wallter himself is all in expensive clothes that if damaged or got dust and dirt all over them wouldn’t totally be the end of the world, but doesn’t prefer for it to happen. 

“Damn it! Looks like two of em popped… can’t get much from here so I can’t tell how badly they got damaged. Guess’ll just use the extra for one of em and see how bad the other one is so I can fix it. Stupid nails, rocks or whateva ruined our date! Pain in my ass…”

Marks exits from under the truck, and sits up on his knees. He looks up at Wallter with a sadden expression, tugging at Wallters heartstrings making him frown.

“I am so sorry darlin. I-I just wanted this to be a good day out, I didn’t mean for none of this to happen. I know you ain’t all into adventurous kinda activities, but I promise you, I’ll fix her up real good n we’ll go wherever ya want mkay? I’ll pay for everythang, and I’ll treat ya right better than any man ever could-“

Wallter could’ve sworn he saw his eyes glistening with tears, with a genuine look of guilt and sorrow in them. 

He can’t have this.

Wallter still doesn’t fully know what kind of feelings he has to Mark or what caused him to make such an extreme action of going out on a spontaneous date, all to end up in the middle of nowhere. 

But if there is something he knows he feels, it’s that he never wants to be the reason Mark cries, or feels so guilty about something he didn’t even do that he’s on his knees begging for an apology. 

It makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Mark. It’s okay. There’s nothing to apologize about.”

“Nah nah it ain’t- I just- wish this could’ve gone better. You deserve the best- if there is anything I can do to make it up I’ll do anythin’ hun. Please? Anything?”

Hm, well being stuck in this truck is awful enough as it is. It’s cramped and hot, and it’s even worse in long sleeved clothes, even with his sleeves rolled up it’s awful. Being outside seems slightly, a little better. But he really doesn’t want to step outside and get his clothes dirty. If Mark could carry him somewhere, that would be nice.

But he really doesn’t want to use Mark, using his genuine guilt just to get him to carry him somewhere more comfortable. That’s not who he is.

“There’s absolutely nothing you need to apologize for, Mark. This isn’t your fault, you weren’t purposefully trying to cause harm or meant to harm the tires. Therefore, you did nothing wrong. I’m not asking for forgiveness, I’m just glad…”

Wallter pauses at that last part. He wonders if he will be too forward with this. It’s not un-true of course. Who cares anymore? Might as well.

“We are both safe. Together.”

Mark looks up at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, as if Wallter was an angel ascending down from the heavens. With visible tears in his eyes, he wipes his eyes away and smiles. Smiles like nothing else in this world matters.

 “I can’t-I can’t believe ya! You’re too kind Wallta! You’re just- just-“

More hearty giggles come out from his lips, with his eyes and nose wrinkling up and clutching his stomach to hold himself up.

Wallter starts noticing every strand of hair flying past Mark's face, with his ponytail in the back bouncing up and down as he giggles. 

Why is he looking at him like that? There’s no reason to. All he did was reassure him he didn’t do anything wrong.

So then why? Why does Mark want to treat him like he’s deserving of such an apology? Why does Wallter want Mark to hold him just as he holds himself up? 

And why doesn’t he want to stop seeing Mark like this? 

Maybe there’s a way to keep this going. A way to give back to him for this. To keep seeing Mark like this, but up close? 

My plan is in action, Wallter says to himself.

“…Mark? Can I ask of a favor?” 

“Of course, sweet pea. Anything ya want, I’ll grant ya wish!” 

Wallter whimpers lightly, and turns on a more seductive voice. “I’m just… oh so not in the mood to walk down or get my pretty clothes dirty. Could you be a darling and help me down-“

Wallter doesn’t get to finish his sentence, Mark immediately picking him up bridal style with absolute ease, like he is as light as a feather. 

Wallter stares out into the open fields in shock of how god damn fast Mark was able to do that. Like seriously, down bad much?

Mark asks, “this okay hun? I hope I ain’t hurtin’ you or making you uncomfortable. Let me know if I eva do nothing to make you feel weird around you m’kay-“

As Mark continues to ramble on, Wallter has had enough of this man’s bumbling behavior. How do I shut him up? Oh right, just like I’ve done in the past.

  “Oh my knight in shining armor, thank you for saving me…” Wallter says as he proceeds to wrap his arms around Mark's neck tightly, feeling his harden muscles and strong body aganist him (seriously how strong is Mark?) and laying his own head on top of Mark's cowboy hat.

…Jeez, when did Wallter get to be this cheesy? And why does it feel so good to be, for one of the first times in his quiet, simple life? 

“Anything for ya, doll…” Mark says with his accent more noticeable this time, stumbling over his own words with a goofy smile on his face. 

One thing on Wallters mind. It’s absolutely adorable when Mark's accent comes out. Like mind bending, stomach churning kind of adorable.

Second thing, “Does Mark have a thing for praise?” Wallter questions. Not that he minds, just a simple observation. 

“Is there anywhere you can set me down, oh dear knight? I am in dire need of rest from the oh so steamy truck.” Wallter asks.

“Yeah yeah!- Uhm sure. Here…” Mark searches around for any kind of surface that Wallter can rest on, scanning until he finds a broken tree stump just a little further down from the back of the truck. 

He walks over and gently lets go of Wallter, holding onto him as he scoots himself onto the-

“WAIT!”

Mark yells, shaking Wallter out of his thoughts. Picking Wallter up just as he was about to sit down.

“Lord Mark, you scared me! What’s wrong?” Wallter asks.

“Ya can’t just sit on the damn dirty tree stump with all them fancy clothes on! Ya dunno what could be on there! Dirt, debree, and worse even lil’ ol bugs! I can’t let ya sit there without nothing protecting ya! Here-“

Mark picks Wallter up with just his left arm, and begins to quickly take off his sleeveless plaid top, switching Wallter onto the right arm to remove the right side of his shirt. All he’s left in is a white wife-beater, showing off his hairy upper body and big muscular arms, glistening with dirt and sweat all over him. 

“Is it getting hot out here or is it just me?” Wallter thinks to himself, with wide eyes very obviously staring at, you guessed it, literally nowhere else but Mark's body. 

Jesus fucking Christ, could this get any better? Or worse? Wallter isn’t even sure himself anymore. 

Mark lays down his plaid top and pats it down, making sure it covers as much of the dirty harden tree stump as possible. 

Sure, Mark loves his wood but not if it’s going to ruin his darlings clothes. 

Thank god I asked, Wallter says to himself. 

To him, Marks beauty has always been noticable since the day they even met face to face, but he’s never given too much attention to his body up until this point. Not for any bad reasons of course, he just simply hadn’t seen him in a while since the red ball diner incident and didn’t get a good picture of Marks body. But my god, did nothing prepare him for this. He was already close enough to Mark as it was in the truck, now to be seeing his gorgeous plump body, his chest and oh so strong body this up this close to him? 

‘What god damn gift from the heavens is this?’ Wallter questions. 

“I’ll be right over here mkay? Still gotta check if I can do anything to fix the damn tire, well first I gotta screw on the otha one and then…”

Marks voice slowly starts to dissipate from Wallters mind as he begins to slip into a daydream as Mark carefully finishes placing him on top of the shirt-covered tree stump, wondering what he would look like without anything on at all. He wonders what he could do, all out in the open like this for nobody to see. Maybe he lost that opportunity at the Red Ball diner. He should’ve just gone home with Mark after everything, I mean seriously, the cliche ‘note slip’ and kiss right after the first meeting? Then again, it’s never a good idea to go to a stranger's home even if it’s only for one night. Not that Mark would do anything, but Wallter couldn’t have known that at the time despite how kind he was.

“Ya staring at me Wally is making me a ‘lil nervous when tryna work…”

Wallter picks up what Mark is putting down, sure. Wallter turns his head away and mumbles a low ‘sorry’ in embarrassment. Guess Wallters unintentional staring problem didn’t end here.

…What even did happen at the Red Ball diner? Besides the awkward staring.

He remembers approaching footsteps and anticipation, hoping it was the man of the hour.
Someone to entertain him. 

Someone to keep him company on such a lonely night.

∩^ω^∩

He notices the plaid sweater instantly next to his table. Shit. Wallter still has his eyes peered right into his oh-so interesting book he finished a long time ago, not knowing what to do. To be shy? To be calm? A cute guy walks up to you out of nowhere, what the hell do you even do? 

Wallter tilts his head up to keep his composure, to show control. And smiles at the cowboy man, making sure to keep a sly smirk to his lips.

“Can I help you, sir?” Wallter asks, with silence following after.

“Uhm. What’s a handsome fellow like ya-self doin’ out here all alone on this night…?”

…Ok, dominant Wallter it is then. This man really needs to learn how to flirt. 

“Oh my… so forward. At least buy me a drink first.” Wallter teases, and closes his book. Honestly, Wallter could go for some damn drinks so he wasn’t entirely lying.

“Holy hell… uh Waiter! Two waters over here!” The man says.

 Not the kind of drinks Wallter had in mind, but sure. 

“I’m so sorry! God damn, neva been good at this whole flirting gig…” The man says. Wallter holds back the urge to laugh and say ‘yeah, I could tell.’

Instead, he says “I was only joking wood boy.” Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know the man’s name. Might as well get to know him better.

Wallter extends his hand, “The name is Wallter. With two L’s.” Mark reaches out to grab his hand and shakes Wallters, while saying; “Wallter… the name is Mark, darlin’.” 

Wallter notices Marks eyes drift down to his hands, paying very good attention to the details on them. Wallter won’t lie, he is also staring at Marks hands too, noticing the twos similar rough skin texture on them. 

Wallter had only called Mark wood boy due to his construction buddies, so he had assumed the man also worked in wood/construction. Now he’s certain about that.

Mark cuts off Wallters train of thought with a question. “Uh yeah… can I sit down?” 

“Of course,” Wallter replies. “Not like anyone is gonna take your seat anyways.” Ah right, that date with what’s-his-face. Might as well subtly let Mark know.

“Huh? What happened? Were ya expectin’ someone?” Mark questions. He looks at Wallter with this shy puppy eyes, almost glaring into Wallters soul. 

“Uh, yeah. Some man I had met at work. Honestly, I can’t even remember his name. He was suppose to show up an hour ago, oh well.” Wallter replies, telling the truth. 

Mark then suddenly begins to lurch up in his seat and laugh out loud, getting some looks. “What a dick! He didn’t know what to do wit’ such a work of art! That’s prob’ly what! Har har har!” Mark says.

Good thing the man is too occupied laughing, so that he doesn’t notice Wallters visibly red face. Work of art? Well, he wasn’t wrong about the whole “doesn’t know what to do with him” thing. But a “work of art?” To Wallter himself? 

Just who does this man think he is? He, he thinks he can just walk around calling a man he finds attractive, someone he barely met two seconds ago, a “work of art?” He’s absolutely out of his mind, Wallter thinks to himself. 

As Wallter composes himself, Mark ceases all laughter and looks at Wallter with crinkled eyes and a wide smile. “What kinda job ya got?” The man asks.

“I make concrete material, anything that concrete and bricks can be useful in. I want to start up my own business one day, but so far I’m just an employee. Ah, I love concrete…” Wallter sighs out, and notices himself going into a trance-like state when talking about his absolute love, AKA his magnificent concrete.

“Damn man, I work on wood commissions for people with my buddies over there! I love my wood… Ya don’t mind that, do ya?” Mark questions, with that same damn submissive puppy look and a hopeful small smile. 

Wallter notices through the gap of the man’s soft pink lips, a tooth gap right in the middle of his top set of teeth. 

Shit, when did Wallters heart begin to beat this fast? 

Wallter replies with his body aflame, “No, of course not. It must be fate. We aren’t so different if you think about it. We both work with beautiful building material! We could surely work together on something.” What? What did Wallter just say? Work together? Huh?

“R-really?! I’d love ta! The curvature of your hands makes more sense now… the rough texture on em’.” Mark says, with a bashful look on his face. 

…Wait, was the man just admitting he was really staring at Wallters hands? 

So,  he’s a dork. He’s the kind of dork that will admit his feelings when he’s under stress. 

So, about Wallters heart beating fast.

Wallter smiles, trying to remain stoic and dominant as he intended from the start.

 “You have been paying attention to my hands? My, I am glad you have such a high image of me, yet not knowing me at all. Have you been the one staring at me by any chance?” Wallter isn’t dumb. He knows this man is into him, and vice versa. He knew this Mark guy was staring at him too. They both know it. 

‘Shit, why not score myself a hot date tonight?” Wallter says to himself.

Wallter then leans slightly closer to him, with the same damn smirk that manages to rile this guy up. 

Marks eyes widen, light pink blush on his face now. “Shit, ya saw…? Thought I was more subtle than that…” he replies, with a sort of defeated voice. 

Wallter says, making sure to have a flirtatious and warm tone, “I don’t mind. I only knew because I was sneaking glances the second I saw you walk down those stairs. An adorable man as yourself shouldn’t be lonely tonight.” Wallter, being reminded of Marks hands, really really needs to hold them. Like now.

Wallter places his hands on Marks, using his thumb to caress his rough knuckles. Mark notices, and stutters like a Buffon. 

“O-oh! Oh! Uhm, thanks? HonestlyIdidntthinkidmakeitthisfar-“ Mark smiles and looks away, with his eyes glancing back and forth at Wallters eyes.

Wallter decides that night, he needs this man’s eyes on him now. Wallters never been the type to be too picky about being the more dominant or submissive one in the relationship. But seeing this smaller man, so hot and bothered by just a simple praising comment makes Wallter question his own sanity. 

Let’s go all the way tonight, Wallter decides to himself. Getting stood up after a long day of work? I deserve this, Wallter says to himself.

His thumb gently grabs Marks chin, and brings Mark's face right up to his, barely an inch of room between Mark and Wallters mouths. Mark let’s out a small squeal, similar to a mouse caught in a trap. He could practically feel Marks breath on him, lips so close together only one small movement would bring the two together.

“My, aren’t you cute? I thought I’d be the one all shy tonight, but it seems not. If we weren’t in front of all these people now, I could show you a night you will never forget.” Wallter licks his lips, wetting them to prepare himself for whatever the hell was going to happen next. Wallter doesn’t know where he’s going with this, but it’s too damn good to let it go now. 

“Mhm…” Mark stutters out. Mark has this adorable up-turned smile on him, with crinkled cheeks and eyes and a smile that stretches all the way to the bottom of the floor. 

Wallter grabs onto Marks collared shirt, to make sure Mark knows damn well what is about to happen. He needs this man, it doesn’t matter if it’s 12 at midnight. Or that he had work tomorrow.

…Fuck.

Wallter is immediately awoken by a loud sigh of dissatisfaction. He looks up, and sees Mark with his head down, face covered by the fringes of Marks ponytail.

“Mark? Are you okay?” Wallter says. 

“Damn flattin’ tire, the hub cap is barely hanging on!” Mark exclaims. “I don’t know what we ran over, but it must’ve been damn big or sharp enough to flatten my tire and break off the hub cap!” 

Mark sighs. “We gotta call someone to tow my damn truck. Who knows how long it’s gonna take too? How much money it’s gonna be?!”  Mark groans and puts his pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose in frustration and anger. 

Wallter stares at him, not sure what to do or help. 

“I can look for a towing service. Maybe there’s something out here, you never know.” Wallter says.

 “Thanks, hun. I just- ugh.” Mark says, banging his forehead aganist the truck. 

“Just- relax back for a minute Mark. I’ll find something.” Wallter says, and pulls up his phone. Luckily on cellular data, he manages to (very slowly) find an online map app, typing in the search bar any towing agencies close by. The closest one he finds is 30 minutes away, even farther out of the city, to a small farm town on the outskirts of the city. Definitely not where Wallter would preferably like to go, but the other options showed they were closed for the day, or hours away from where they stand. 

“Are ya doin’ okay, darlin’? I don’t want cha’ to worry ‘bout all this ruckus. I’m sorry, I should’ve been more reassuring-“ 

Wallter cuts him off, “Stop apologizing, Mark. You’re gonna give me a headache. It’s okay, seriously.” 

Mark goes silent at that. 

“I uh- found one. It says 30 minutes from here, in a small farm town area. Like down from here. It’s the closest option we got.” 

“I… alright. Whateva ya say. What’s the er- number?” Mark sighs out, walking over to Wallter with a glance at the concrete mans phone. Mark grabs his phone and walks back to his truck. He finishes entering in the number and puts his phone to his ear.

The phone rings, and a basic company introduction starts playing on the other end. Mark leans on the side of the truck, one leg resting up against the truck. Another voice can be heard from the end, however muffled and quiet from where Wallter sits. The person asks questions to Mark, and he gives them his basic name and information about what vehicle he drives. 

“I’m uh, outta the city. Far out. Like, really far out. Around where yall are. Yep. Mhm. Took a wrong direction. Yeah.”  Mark looks at Wallter in worry, which Wallter takes as a signal to try and figure out where the hell they are, or any kind of point that can help the towing folks find the two men. Wallter goes through the map, and sees that they are quite literally in the middle of nowhere, far out of the city. About an hour out of it, to be exact. As Wallter squints his eyes scrolling through the app, he notices one somewhat close store by them, a small gas station. Named “GAS STATION.” Open 24/7. Further down the one-shot road they currently lay on now. About a 10 minute walk from where they stand currently. 

Wallter looks up, and quietly mouths the words “GAS STATION. NAMED GAS STATION. 10 MINUTES FURTHER DOWN FROM WHERE WE STAND NOW” To Mark, and he repeats the same information to the dispatcher. 

Wallter knows it isn’t much information, but it will have to do. 

“I’m not sure of the street name, it’s just uh. The one that the gas station is on, whateva the name is. Ah- okay okay. Who’s here? Just me and my- uh. Friend. Yeah, m-my friend.” Mark repeats, stuttering. 

Wallter laughs out loud at that. 

“Yeah, we are just settled on that uh- whatever the name of the street was. Mhm. Our Truck is a little up ahead from it. Ahead the gas station, yeah.” Mark says.

 Our? Wait.

Mark hashes out the details of what happened, the damage, and all that boring jazz.

“Alright, thanks. 30 minutes till ya get here? Yeah I gotcha. Can I pay when- oh! Okay. Thanks m’lady. Buh-bye.” Mark hangs up the phone, and shoves it into his pants pocket. 

Mark walks over to Wallter and sighs loudly. “We got lucky. They said 30 minutes. Well, at least we got something to do for the time. Wanna check out that Gas station all t’way behind us ?” Mark says, as eager as ever. 

Wallter realizes he will have to get up and might ruin his clothes, but by this point it doesn’t matter as much to him. He just needs to get some damn water, something that’ll keep him alive for the next 30 minutes of his life. “Of course, let me-“ 

Wallter is cut off by Mark kneeling down in front of him, and grabbing the ends of Wallters pants and gently rolling them up, taking his time not to damage the soft fabric or put dents into it. He shakes off any dust or sand that may have gotten onto them, Wallter completely shell shocked by all this happening. What the hell does he think he’s doing? Wallter isn’t some royal figure in need of complete protection, was the whole knight in shining armor not obviously a joke to him? 

Not getting to complete his thought process, Mark stands up and reaches under Wallters legs and under his arm to pick him up bridal style, quickly enough to shock Wallter as he is holsted up into Mark's arms.

“I promise not ta drop ya darlin’.” 

Wallter reaches his arms around Mark's neck for comfort, and without rhyme or reason nuzzles his head into Mark's Shoulder. 

Wallters legs feel like jello whenever Mark does this. He feels protected. Even if it’s over the top, this is way past the bare minimum any guy has ever done for Wallter. Most of the time, Wallters past relationships have been him trying too hard for the other men, with them not reciprocating. He came bearing gifts and hugs and kisses, with the other person barely doing the same. But this? 

For once, another man goes above and beyond for him. And it’s the dorky cowboy guy, who can’t even hold a basic conversation with Wallter without stuttering and blushing like a schoolgirl. 

Wallter starts to relax in Mark's arms, with the man's harsh footsteps ringing in his ears. Wallters eyes glance up, and sees the sun perfectly framing Mark's smiling face, his brown eyes completely glistening and shining in the light. The sweat of his rough muddied face glowing in the sun. His soft blonde hair, with the light framing each individual strand of his golden hair.

Maybe this is all I needed, Wallter thinks as he closes his eyes.

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ

“We are here, perty boy!” Mark says. Wallters eyes open up, still trying to understand what’s going on. 

“Ah- finally?” Wallters eyes blink open, with the small gray gas station in front of him with a big sign above of the doors that says “GAS STATION.”

“Damn, this whole area reminds me of my life back in da south! Ah, I miss it down there…” Mark says. 

Wallter realizes Mark has a southern accent. Of course he isn’t from here. He never asked. 

“Now that you mention it,” Wallter says, and pauses to yawn. “You never mentioned where you are uh… from? Exactly? With your accent and all…” 

“Why, I’m from southern Georgia! The most beautiful damn place on the map. Trees and trees for miles! People down there actually appreciate wood, and wood making y’know?” Mark says proudly. 

Wallter giggles, “I’m glad. I bet it’s amazing down there…” 

“It sure damn is! I gotta take ya there someday!” Mark replies.

Wait, am I still in Marks arms? Wallter says to himself. 

“Mark sweetie, as much as I appreciate the help, could you let me down?” 

“Ya sure?! I don’t want ya fancy pants clothes to get all dirty!” Mark exclaims, a genuine frown on his face.

“It’s okay, honey tree.”

“Alrighty…” Mark walks over to the bench right beside the doors to the gas station, and gently sets Wallter down. Afterwards plopping down right next to him. 

‘God is it fucking hot,’ Wallter thinks. Water, right. 

“I think I’m going to check inside the store for any water. You sure you don’t wanna come in with me?” Wallter asks Mark. 

“I’m good, Wally! A lil’ heat neva bothered a man like me!” Mark replies, and smiles up at Wallter. 

“If you say so. I’ll be back.” Wallter says, and opens the small gas station glass stained door.

He steps inside, and is immediately hit with the smell of a foul odor. A weird combination of weed and gasoline fills the air entirely, and Wallter looks to his right and sees an old, balding worn-down man sitting quietly at the register with a blunt in his mouth, his eyes on his newspaper. ‘Ah, figured’ Wallter says to himself. 

Wallter walks forward, looking around for anything he can snack on/drink for the long waiting time. He turns his body to thr left, and sees a large storage of out in the open water bottles, still wrapped in plastic coverage. He bends down to see if it is truly warm, and to his touch it is burning hot. He sighs in a disappointed manner, hoping for cold drinking water. 

He stands up, and turns his head right to be face to face with construction gear on display. A couple different gadgets and thingy-ma-bobs, from construction tools to bags to carry. Considering it’s out in the middle of nowhere, it filled the shelf all up. Everything seems to be in stock, except for one item. He turns his head downward to be met with a basic yellow hard hat, similar to the ones Marks buddies had. Wallter always subconsciously wondered why Mark was the only one without a basic yellow hard hat, always going around wearing his clearly worn out dust-covered brown cowboy hat. Not that Wallter minded, he thought Mark looked nice in it. 

Cowboys are attractive, and to Wallters oh-so fantastic luck he had a cute southern cowboy waiting right outside the small gas station.

Wallter smiles to himself and murmurs, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” 

Wallter picks up the yellow hard hat to inspect it, and picks the small price tag up with his hand and reads “10$.” Not bad for a sturdy hat. Wallter digs into his pockets, pulls out his wallet and sees ten crisp dollars exactly. Just to his luck. 

‘Shit, the water?’ Wallter thinks, even if it’s lukewarm by this point he would’ve taken anything as long as he stays hydrated. 

"Maybe they take card…?” Wallter says in his head, and leans down to pick up the lukewarm water with his left hand, with the hard hat in his right. He walks slowly up to the grumpy, old man running the store with caution. Before getting the chance to speak to him, a small paper on the counter reads;

 | NO CARD. | 

As expected, Wallter thinks to himself as he sets the water bottle down on a nearby shelf, and pulls out his last ten bucks and hands it over to the old quiet man. The man takes the money, with Wallter picking up the yellow hardhat and making his way to the door.

“It’s gunna rain hard with alotta wind in the next couple o’ hours. You and your boy-toy should getta move on.” The older man says, with a husky deep twinge to his voice. Wallter pauses right as he opens the door to his shock, blood rushing to his face. The only part he had taken in was “boytoy.” 

“I- uh, thanks sir. It’s not- like that. Me and him.” Wallter says. The old man glares at him. 

“Mkay.” The man says, and goes back to reading his newspaper. 

Boytoy? I mean, the idea of being with Mark doesn’t sound horrible. I mean, they both are already in this weird situationship, where both of them look at eachother like they want to kiss, hold eachother like a couple and flirt in a sensensual manner. The whole “honey” and Wally business? Friends don’t do that, Wallter isn’t stupid. Wallter feels his chest swarm with butterflies just from the thought of those silly nicknames. 

He knows he’s feeling something for the small man. Not love. Love is an emotion you feel later on in a relationship, you have to know the person damn well to love them. Wallter knows Mark, but not deeply. Not like that atleast. But Wallter knows it’s for sure romantic. 

Mark is a dear. He’s everything you could want in a man, shown from the past interactions Wallter has had with him. He’s protective, sweet and caring, he puts Wallters feelings above his own, he’s a handsome man, an absolute dork, an adorable and god damn charming one at that. The best part? He’s the opposite of Wallter. Outgoing, talkative, a bit of a ditz at times but still holds himself up good. He’s outspoken and exciting.

 Mark is Wallters definition of excitement. The spark, the rush of joy Wallter needed. 

Sure this experience has been shit. Getting stuck in the middle of nowhere, having a mini-panic attack in the middle of a deserted road. But maybe, just maybe being in Marks protective grasp made everything worth while. 

…But Wallter still questions if he’s getting ahead of himself. They are so opposite, in everything they do. Where they come from, personalities, physical apperance, and most of all their individual love for wood and concrete. 

Wallter knows how much Mark loves his wood. He would not want to ruin that for him, let alone get in the way of their relationship. 

‘…But what if it were to?’ Wallter brainstorms on, Wallter knows he can be hardheaded about the things he loves, especially his beloved Concrete. And Mark is no different, that’s something they got in common. 

It’s something that’s known to make or break a relationship, those stupid petty arguments. And Wallter knows damn well it could happen to any couple. Even him and Mark. 

Wallter, still standing in the doorway looks out the glass of the gas station door looks at a sleeping Mark, with his body slumped against the hard wooden bench, his cowboy hat resting on his face, sometimes drifting up when he would breathe. His arms crossed in front of him. Wallter stares at him for a small second, his anxious thoughts fading away as he slowly smiles to himself.

“But it wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?” Wallter says to himself. He steps outside to meet the scorching sun, melting both his heart and his body. 

˚✧₊⁎❝᷀ົཽ≀ˍ̮ ❝᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Wallter walks over to Mark, with quiet footsteps not to disturb him. He reaches out his hand and gently pats on Marks shoulder, in which Mark jumps up violently too.

“Ah! Shit- ya’ startled me Wallster. What took ya so long?” He says, as he regains his senses sitting up. 

“Mark, it’s only been like- 5 minutes. Since I left.” Wallter pauses, and stares in confusion.

“Wha-wuh? You serious? Felt like ya took forever!” Mark adjusts his hat, staring up. Wallter smiles at the sight of this, remembering Mark isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Not that it matters to Wallter. If anything, it only makes Wallter swoon more and more. Wallter glances down at Mark's hat, and looks back down at his own hand holding Mark's “gift” of sorts. 

“Damn my back hurts, holy shit. Oh! Whatcha got there? Wanna get into the good ol’ woodlayin’ business with me?” Mark says, pointing to Wallters hand.

Wallter tucks the hat behind his body, and starts to feel more clammy and nervous than he was before. He turns his head to the side, his eyes closed in embarrassment. 

‘Maybe this is all too sudden,’ Wallter thinks. A gift when they have barely known each other for a month? Is he being too much again? Too forward? ‘No, don’t think like that! Take a risk, take a risk! Remember!’ Wallter repeats over, and over again. 

“Wallta! Don’t hide it from me, ya dummy! Lemme see-!”

“Close your eyes.” 

“H-huh? I-I mean ight.” Mark closes his eyes.

Wallter, red in the face and very sweaty, quickly snatches Mark's old hat off him, which earns a small yelp of shock from the small wooden man. With that, Wallter slaps on the new yellow hard-hat with force, definitely with too much force, onto Mark's head.

Mark opens his eyes, and stares up at his new yellow hardhat in awe, his mouth and eyes wide open. Like a child seeing snow fall for the first time.

“It’s uh- for you. Actually. I noticed that you are the only person outta your friends who doesn’t have a hardhat. And all of them have different colors, and I saw it and thought you may like it…” 

Mark stares at him in silence.

“Yeah I mean- sorry I’m not trying to make you get rid of the uh- old hat. I just- think you would look good in the uh. Hard. Hat. Thing. Yeah.” Wallter finishes rambling, noticing how nervous he sounds.

“…Wally. I- I dunno what to say. It’s- uhm. Wow.” Marks eyes visibly become watery, even under the shade of the hat. He chuckles, sounding like it was a belly laugh more than a chest laugh. The corners of her lips slowly turn upward into a freakishly wide smile, almost something inhumane. Which may be a bit frightening to those who don’t know Mark enough, but to Wallter it was all and more. 

It wasn’t the exact reaction he had hoped for, but one he would still cherish no matter what. It was Mark after all. 

Mark sniffles with a wobbly voice, “I just. Damn- I am. Phew- so sorry. Uhm- ain’t nobody ever gotten me this kinda gift before. Especially cuz it’s uh, related to woodworkin’ and all that beeswax.” His lips begin to quiver.

Usually in this situation, Wallter would panic and ask if he did something wrong. But he decides to not let himself overthink. Instead to enjoy the moment, take a picture with his eyes and store it in his heart for now and later. 

“I ain’t- uh- the best at this kinda thing. The whole gift giving crying business but- I thank ya’ kindly Wally.” Mark sniffles and chuckles, standing up with his hardhat facing down, probably not to show his intense emotions in that moment. 

“I- of course, Mark. It’s just a small thank you for everything you have done for me.” Wallter says, smiling down at him. Wallter thinks he may be getting teary eyed too.

Mark, still staring down at his feet with the same giddy smile on his face, quietly mumbles, “let’s uh- get a move on. I think the people are gunna be here soon.” 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Wallter says.

Mark walks past Wallter, and turns his head around still with his hard hat down. “And uh- Wallter?”

“Yes, Mark?”

“My old hat would look good on you.”

Wallter still swears to this day that he could see a singular tear slide down the soft crevices of Mark's dirtied cheek right as he turned around. 

＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／

Walking back to the truck was quiet, a quiet Wallter knew very well. Not the bad kind of quiet, but the kind that said “just because we aren’t talking doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy each other's presence.” 

Before then, Wallter had to argue for a good minute about how he was fine to walk now, with Mark insisting to carry him despite him complaining about his back pain beforehand. Wallter luckily won the argument by just simply walking away in the direction of the truck, with Mark quieting down right afterwards. Was it a bit harsh? Yeah sure. But Wallters only intention was for Mark to take a break from carrying him. That’s all.

Despite that, a good 10 minutes pass when they finally see their truck in their line of sight, with it resting on the hooks of another large truck. Three men stand on the outside of the truck, looking to be waiting for something.

“Seems they arrived early,” Wallter says, breaking the silence.

“Damn right they did. Thank god…” Mark replied.

They begin to pick up their feet, as to not keep the folks waiting. 

As they catch up to their truck, an older man, not much older than Mark or Wallter stares them down with an intense trapping gaze, like a predator that just found its nightly prey to feast on.

“Hell took ya’ so damn long?! Fuckin’ been waitin’ here for a gadamn minute and yall went off and did what?! We were just bouta leave yer sorry asses before we saw yall in da distance!” The man says, presumably apart of the towing team.  Wallter can hear a faint growling noise erupt from Marks throat. 

“We got here a little late, big deal ya old sucka! Deal with it! At Least we are here now, ain’t that somethin’?!” Mark angerly replies, seemingly not understanding what he and Wallter did was unprofessional. They really could’ve just told the people they were gonna be out getting supplies before leaving, just so they knew beforehand. Did Mark really not see an issue with what they did or is he just a naturally defensive man that doesn’t like to accept he was wrong? Seems both are the answer. 

Wallter quickly snaps out of his thoughts as Mark is surrounded by the three men, arguing back and forth with them as loud as possible. Mark's voice was rising louder and louder each time the men made a comment. The men got closer and closer to Mark everytime Mark argued back. Something was brewing up, and Wallter needed it to end quickly so as to not push away their only hope of making it out of this wasteland. Not because Mark couldn’t take these three guys on. If there’s something Wallter is certain about his Mark, is that he knows damn well Mark could wrestle a 100-pound shark and still win with a couple of bruises and scratches even if he’s a short guy. Those muscles could crush a damn watermelon with ease.

Wallter lets out a tired sigh, snapping out of his daydream of Marks muscles, to go ahead and deal with the man’s quick and intense emotional reactions to things. Wallter grabs the man’s shoulders and spins him around to look up at Wallter.

“Mark, calm yourself please. Let me handle this.” Wallter lets go of Mark and clears his throat, looking back up at the three pissed off men and says with a calm tone, “My apologies for my friends behavior. Sometimes he can go off the handle, and struggles to admit when he’s wrong.” Wallter looks directly in Marks eyes with disappointment after this, “So, what is next in the process of getting our truck towed? Would we have to come with you guys?” Wallter says looking back up at the men.

“Yeah, yall are gunna ride wit us to our workplace. We’ll get it all tidy up by…” The seemingly-now-less-angry older man takes a quick glance down at their flatten tire, and broken hub cap. “a couple o’ hours. But yall should be back in the city by nighttime. Hub caps ain’t gonna take long to fix. ” The man and his two friends walk back to their truck and climb in with ease, with the older man’s hand motioning to get in as well. 

Wallter looks back at Mark with a demanding and strong gaze, his head motioning in the direction of the truck. Mark looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms, huffing like a petulant child and walking over to the truck. Wallter smiles to himself and follows behind.

Mark steps out of the way and reaches out his hand for Wallter to climb in the truck first, Wallter takes the shorter man’s hand and tosses Mark's old hat in first, with Mark holding Wallter by the hips to make sure he gets in as comfortably as possible, and Mark following right after. 

They both climb into the backseat, and the truck takes off with a sudden speed. Wallter, in a state of shock, grips onto Mark's arm for reassurance, with Mark's hand resting on Wallter’s arm. 

Wallter turns his head down to face Mark, and mumbles a quiet “thank you” proceeding to rest his head on Mark's new shiny yellow hardhat, getting comfortable for the long ride.

(-.-;)y-~~~

About 15 minutes go by from the quiet car ride to the workshop, in which they proceed to pass by multiple lonely large farm houses, with trees upon trees overshadowing their view from the inside of the truck. Not that Wallter minded of course, trees were starting to become comforting to him. 

Wallter stares out of the dirty truck window, his eyes fixated on the dark sunny environment around him. Rows upon rows of cornfields pass by, with the sun starting to dim below the horizon line, clouds start to come in just like the old man from the gas station said. Even with clouds, the sun still peaks through with its light casting a spell on the earth and ground around them. For once the sun feels good on Wallters skin. 

Finally through the repeating environment around them, they make a full stop at the deserted workshop. The three working men hop out of the car with ease, and urge Wallter and Mark with hand signals to do the same. Wallter looks down at a sleepy Mark, the man’s mouth wide open and his face slumped against Wallters shoulders. Wallter takes a mental picture with his heart to save for later. Wallter shakes Mark, in which Mark jumps from his seat and shakes his head, understanding the situation quickly around him. Mark quickly hops out of the car into the windy environment, and holds out his hand for Wallter to step out like a princess stepping out of her carriage. Wallter giggles and smiles down at a goofy Mark, with the cutest smile on his face. Wallter felt important, valued even. 

Wallter takes his hand and steps out of the car with ease, Mark holding onto him like fragile glass. 

“We are gonna havfta make y'all step out, we needa bring the ol’ truck into the garage but can’t let yall in. Stay out here till we get this baby fixed up.” One of the men says to Mark, as the man grabs his sweater hanging off the front of the wheel. 

…Shit!

“Excuse me?! May I grab my coat from the back before you go to work? For protection! I think it may rain soon!” Wallter quickly asks.

The driver groans out loud. “Since ya asked so nicely…”

As Wallter is about to run off to grab it, Mark presses his hand into Wallters large chest to stop him. “Let me get it!” Mark says as he runs off to the front of his broken down truck to leap into the passenger seat. He rushes out with Wallters long-dark grey coat in his hands and motions for Wallter to turn around and put it on him. 

 The three men step back in the car, and open the garage door to proceed with their work.

“Seems like we’ll be here for a bit… did we even ask ‘em for a time?” Mark questions. 

“I… don’t believe so. What time is it even?” 

“Would check, but my phone is barely at one percent. I’ll take a good guess and say 6 PM.” Mark says, going to the grey comb-like building walls to lean his full body weight on, with Wallter following behind. 

Silence follows afterwards, with Wallter leaning as best as he can with his extreme height onto the same wall Mark rests on. The wind picks up, with leaves brushing past them both as both of their eyes dig into the ground below them, unsure of what to say or do. Wallter clutches something in his hands anxiously, and remembers Marks old hat he had carried the whole time from the gas station. Wallter still recalls Marks words, of him saying that Marks western hat would look good on him. Wallter questions the short man’s thought process, Wallter himself has never being much of a hat guy. As much as Wallter likes buying designer clothes and high-quality materials, he’s always appreciated hand-crafted materials, like knitted scarves or gloves. Has he ever gotten that kind of gift from anyone? No. Does he wish for it? 

Well, who wouldn’t? When people you love hand make something for you, putting their heart and soul and love into it, who doesn’t swoon over the thought of it? Wallter isn’t even sure if Mark enjoys sowing. Whether he does or doesn’t, Wallter doesn’t mind. The wood man already does enough for him, Wallters greediness shouldn’t get the best of him. 

However, he does question why Mark thinks his old hat would look good on him. It’s a dumb thing to wonder sure, and it’s nothing deep or moving, but Wallter being Wallter loves to nit pick every detail of someone he adores words.

“…Mark?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

Wallters thought process ceases to exist when he hears that damned nickname. Especially when Mark looks at him with those eyes, those damned eyes! Wallter shouldn’t have done this, he knows this. But it wouldn’t be proper of him to start a conversation with no ending, would it?

“I… why did you say your hat would look good on me?” Wallter asks, with a harsher-then-intended tone.

Marks eyes widen, his face droops like a dog. 

“Ya ain’t a hat kinda guy? M’sorry baby, I can take it back if ya want-“

“No! No. I just- well. You’re half right, I don’t really enjoy wearing hats. I feel it shields my face from the world around me, I like to get a good look at all that surrounds my being.”

Mark nods at that, with an attentive stare.

“So… what kinda clothes or things do ya like?” 

“It’s uh- a little embarrassing. I enjoy… knitted stuff?” Wallter replies.

“Like scarves? N’stuff?”

“Ah- yes. Scarves. They make me feel secure and protected. Especially when made by someone in their own time, the love from their body just seethes into the fabric.”

“Has anyone ever made you a knitted scarf?” Mark asks, with a stern yet curious tone of voice.

Wallters face heats up, with his left hand reaching up to cover his face with the collar of his shirt.

“…No? I mean- it’s just-“

“Noted.” Marks says, looking up into the dark cloudy sky with curious eyes. 

This man will be the death of Wallter.

Wallter thinks back to the past convo after a few quiet seconds pass by, remembering his back-handed question he made about Marks hat at the start. Wallter looks down at Mark, with Mark noticing and looking back up at him. 

“That uh- isn’t to say that I don’t like your hat. It’s your hat, and that’s enough for me to keep it.”

Mark's face becomes visibly darker, with red stretching across his entire face in an instant. He begins to stutter, tripping over his words as his lips quiver in delight. 

“Jeez, Wally. I just- I just don’t know how-“

The wind quickly picks up, shoving Wallter and Mark both to the side, trying to stay on balance. As Wallter tumbles around with his hands trying to grab onto something to stabilize himself, the hat quickly blows out of his hands. Wallter, thanking whatever god was above them now, Cupid maybe, catches onto it so fast and he jumps up to grab onto it. He holds it to his chest, with pure gratefulness pulsing through his being. He notices Mark begin to stand straight up again, and rushes over to him with the wind still as strong as ever.

“Mark?!” Wallter clutches onto Marks face, his left hand running over Marks silky dirty blonde hair. “Are you okay-?” Wallter noticing something is missing. 

Marks eyes quickly spring to life, in complete terror and fear. “Shit! Yer hat!” Mark turns his head around to see his yellow hat flying into the dark fields of grass. At the speed of light, the short man turns around like his life depends on it, and begins booking it to the dark, tall fields of grass, flowers and cornfields that rest right beside the factory. Wallters heart races, not in the way he would like. The wind blows onto Wallters hair, blinding him for a few short seconds. The rain starts to quickly pour, the clouds covering up the bright sun. Even then, the sun never leaves with its rays shining through the grey, muddy clouds. 

He quickly runs up to Mark and grabs his lower arm, Mark turns to face him in what seems to be a mix of anger and sadness. 

“Mark! No! It isn’t worth it, you could get lost in there! Stay with me!”

Mark tugs from Wallters strong grip, “I can’t, Wallta! Let me go!”

“Why not?! Please! Think about what you are doing! It’s gone, it’s lost! Why do you even bother-“

“Because it’s from you, god damn it Wallter! I can’t just let it go! Not now!” 

Wallter takes a shallow breathe in, with his eyes staring down at Marks teary eyes. Wallters grip without his knowledge loosens in shock, and Mark quickly takes off, disappearing into the field of the unknown. 

Wallter stares down in complete, frozen fear. He knows. He knows he must make a choice. Face the unknown, or stay here in fear as the only man who’s cherished his soul, his mind runs off into the distance. Stay still, and avoid the unknown.

Just like he always does. 

We’ve already been through this, Wallter says to himself.

Wallter feels a tear slip down his hot, angry cheek, and makes a run through the shaken cornfield, following Mark's footsteps and sounds as best as he could through the windy and rainy evening. 

Wallter knows, there’s no going back. 

ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

Wallter is not far behind, thanks to his running speed and quick agility. He hears Marks pants and grunts, and pushes through the fields of repeating tall grass, flowers, and corn. Tall grass, flowers, and corn. Wet tall grass, soggy flowers, and shield  corn. Wet shoes, muddied pants, and a drowned hat resting in his hands. 

Wallter remembers it all. The diner, the excitement he felt as he slipped the note into Marks hands. Feeling Marks warm, wet breath on his lips. It almost reminds him of his current predicament. 

Wallters never liked being in the rain, nor does he like his current physical situation of sorts. But it’s for Mark.

Wallters hearing fades out, Marks footsteps cease to exist. Wallter feels his heart drop to his stomach, and begins panting like a desperate dog in search of his owner, his purpose. His whole life. 

“Mark?! Mark please, respond to me! Mark! Mark!” Wallter screams with whatever breathe he has left, his throat clogging up and becoming ruined in his fear. Fear rises up his throat and lungs and all of his body, needing his air to live. His legs begin to give out from running. 

Out of nowhere, he sees a dim light. Is this heaven? 

Wallter never believed in a god. Never did, never will. It’s a stupid thought, but heaven doesn’t seem too bad right now. Atleast his love would be there.

But what if he wasn’t? Wallter knows he cannot leave this world without him.

He needs to keep going forth. For him. Heaven can wait.

Wallter, in the midst of his confusing thoughts, trips over his own feet into a small field, the tall grass and cornfield seemingly surrounding a large, empty circle of well-trimmed grass. Wallter looks up with whatever strength he has left, and peers up to see the tall trees surrounding the whole oasis, the gaps of whatever sunlight was left reaching into the world ceasing to exist his this small part of the world. The rain calms in this small area, and it feels good to Wallter. Like a sigh of relief.

Wallter hears a yell and immediately recognizes the voice, pulling his body up to meet with the small figure, all the way at the end of the oasis. 

The figure looks behind, and it’s none other than the man himself. Mark looks at Wallter, with a muddied appearance and glistening smile with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Wallter! Thank god! I found it-“

With very little strength he had left, Wallter quickly slaps Mark across the face, and stumbles to his knees in complete defeat, his head turned downwards.

Mark sits there in shock, not from the slap itself. It didn’t hurt Mark physically, but emotionally? It was his wake up call. Mark opens his mouth to speak, and with a low whisper says:

“Doll… I can’t even fathom how sorry I-“

Wallter gazes up at Mark, with a fierce and powerful expression to him, eyes and face crinkled. Marks eyes widen, in fear but also shock.

“SORRY?! You’re sorry?! You made me worry SICK about you, and run through an entire field of fucking- grass and dirt in order to reach you! All for a hat!” Wallters says, his last sentence came out as a choked cry. 

“It ain’t just a hat. It never was.” Mark says, as if his accent completely disappeared.

Wallter stares down at the wet grass in shock, about to argue back with the defeated man. 

Before he can get a word out, he feels more small droplets of rain on his back, but with a heavy heat resting on him too. Both him and Mark look up, to see the gaps of sunlight reaching through the dark gray clouds even in the midst of a dark gloomy situation. The sun. Wallter never forgets the sun. Not if his life depends on it.

They stare upward into the light. And for once, Wallters intense emotions dissipate out of his body. 

Wallter looks up at Mark, as the man, the fucking rock and love in his life, stands up and reaches out his hand. The drizzling rain framing his face with the sun, it’s a sight Wallter has seen before. 

This feeling will never go away, will it?

“Wallter… would you bestow upon a pathetic man like me, and give me just one dance?”

Nevermind, the anger is back. Mark's hands clutch the wet grass, and as he tries to stand up to scream in this stupid little man’s face, he stumbles over from the lack of blood in his brain. As he tumbles back, Mark quickly grabs onto Wallters shoulders and waist like it’s nothing. 

Wallter feels like a damsel in distress. How pathetic of me, Wallter thinks to himself.

“I’ve gotcha, darlin’. Take it easy, if ya don’t wanna we don’t-“

Wallter quickly rises up, and clutches onto the back of Marks neck, his body flushed against Marks. 

“Show me what you got, wood boy.”

Mark wastes no time pulling the tall man up further into him, and sways his body with the flow of the rain, as if his body is intertwined with nature. Wallter follows along, and starts to waltz with him throughout the pouring rain staring deeply into the man he oh-so-hates eyes. With absolute hatred flowing through Wallters body, he tries to fight off the fluffy feeling in his chest when dancing with Mark. He needs to be dealt with, he needs to know what he did was fucking idiotic. But oh, the puppy look in his eyes is too damn hard to resist. 

In anger, Wallter grabs Mark's arm, and twirls him around, dipping him low. Mark knows what’s going on. He stands up as fast as he can, and clutches onto Wallter arms with fury and tugs at Wallter to keep moving his body. Both of the men’s legs and arms begin to move in a frantic, and soon enough begin to spin each other in the drowning rain like their lives depend on it. Their grips hurt them both, both furious at one another. But oh so, madly obsessed with the other man. It’s impossible, it’s enchanting. 

It’s fearless. 

Wallters jacket starts to become wrinkled in the rain, and gently shoves mark away, tearing off his already ruined dark gray coat. He throws it behind him, and immediately walks back up to Mark and pulls his stubbled chin close to his own face, with Marks arms wrapped around Wallters small waist. Wallter wraps his arms around Mark's neck, and with this Mark lets out a loud laugh. A belly laugh. A real, fresh laugh. They spin around for a moment, and Wallter really gets to take in that laughter. 

Wallter hasn’t heard it in a bit. With that, Wallters anger still resides in him but Mark's infectious attitude also begins to laugh along. They stare into eachother eyes, Wallter leaning his face down to meet Mark's short height, pulling Mark closer and closer. With that, Mark stares down at Wallters pretty soft lips with his lustful bedroom eyes. With his eyes, he begs for Wallter, his Wallter to do something. Anything. 

Wallter stares down at him, with the same eyes. The same shared need. The same animalistic desire. 

Wallter begins to lean down, with Mark and his eyes beginning to close in preparation.

With no warning, Mark stumbles over a small wet rock with his arms still around Wallter, and falls down dragging the tall man with him. They both let out a loud yelp in shock. 

They stumble to the ground, Wallters larger arms covering the sides of Marks head and he falls on top of him. With Wallters nose and lips complete inches away from Mark, he quickly asks:

“Mark?! Is your head okay?” Wallter asks, with Mark still laughing in complete childish delight. 

“Mark! Respond to me, you damn- himbo!” Wallter shouts in Mark's face, with him still laughing his rocks off.

“Mark!” As if Mark had a whole personality shift, he immediately stops laughing at looks up at Wallter with nervousness and admiration and says, with his whole heart and soul leaking into his whisper;

“Wallter… would ya’ make me the happiest man on earth and allow me to be your boyfriend?”

Wallter looks down at Mark in shock. 

Wallter, being Wallter, thinks to himself; what did he do to get here? In this moment, he knows to capture it, and remember it. 

And in the near future, when his old age gets to him, sitting on his deathbed, he knows this is the moment that will play this moment on loop.

 He knows it, he sees it in his blurred, tearful eyes. And on his gravestone, those exact words seem to be written on them. 

He smiles down to the sun.

“…Yes, Mark. Yes.”

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )ֶָ֢ 

Chapter Text

“We should uh… probably be getting back now.” Mark says, with his lip quivering in delight and complete joy pulsating throughout his limbs and nervous system.

“Yeah. We really should, Mark.” Wallter replies, with a hint of disdain in his voice.

They both stand up, Wallter reaching out for Mark to grab his hand. They stand up, and find their way through the tall mini-forest of corn. Mark with hesitance, grabs on Wallters arm as a silent ask to cling onto him. 

Wallters sigh was all he needed to know.

“Can’t believe I let you make me chase you like that… you go too damn fast for me, Mark.”

“And yet, you wanna be my boyfrienddddd…” Mark replies, hugging onto Wallter's side.

Wallter feels his heart soften at those words. 

Wallter, with his voice softer then an angels feather gracing your skin into the light, replied;

“Of course, Mark. Of course I do.”

☆〜（ゝ。∂）