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John stands outside his best friends house. The midday sun is kissing him tenderly trough the clouds, and the cold bites him in a way he barely notices. With how much the idea of meeting Mark warms him up, it makes sense.
Mark. A friend of a childhood friend. John knows he shouldn't feel like this. But every time he imagines the two of them holding hands... Kissing... He feels his cheeks warming up by the second. But, imagining him as a woman... Not only does it give him almost the exact same reaction as usual, but it feels... natural, in a way?
He is sucked out of his train of thought by the sound of nature. He looks at his clock.
|-17:09-|
Ah. He's been standing here for 15 minutes. He straightens his back, combs his hair with his hands, and takes a deep breath. He enters the manor.
"Damien, I'm busy!"
"It's john, but... I suppose I'll talk to you later, in that case."
Disappointment is washing over him, sure, but at least he did-
"Ah! Was wondering if you were ever gonna show up. Hello, old friend!"
His red suit sticks out amongst a beige house. He's wearing some lazily slipped-on pants. Not being perfectly neat at all times is unlike him, but it doesn't matter. John feels like an angel is lifting up his lips, because he can't stop smiling as he goes to hug the man.
"Good day, Mark! Has everything been going well?"
"Oh, you don't have a clue, my friend..."
He rambles on for what feels like hours. John savors every second of it. Hearing his voice, the one with just a *hint* of a foreign accent, is something he could fall asleep to. He wishes he could repeat this in his head forever. Whenever he's burnt out from a court case, or stressed after spilling coffee on yet ANOTHER important block of paperwork, this could always soothe him down. He wouldn't mind spending three eternities in hell, if this is what the demons were chanting.
"... And she had the GALL to- John? Hellooo, Earth to John?"
"Ah! Sorry, got lost in thought. The case has been taking longer than expected."
"Mhm. Working yourself down to the soul as always, eh? You have heard of this thing called "sleeping", have you?"
"Stop teasing me! But, really, I don't wanna be... disappointing, i suppose you'd call it?
"Disappointing?"
"Well, you know... I grew up in the average household. Damien and I met, and he was the son of a rich man, so trough life, he always helped me. I wouldn't be sitting here if not for him. And... with that, I don't want him to feel like he wasted anything on me, you know?"
"You're speaking nonsense. Working to the level you do is impressive, not required. If you ever need a break, ask me and I could take you somewhere! I do get quite the calming treatments before my scenes."
This feels wrong. But, by God, he can't pass up this opportunity, can he?
"I- If that works for you, then absolutely! I... suppose i have been working quite a lot, haven't I."
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John is working at his table, like usual. The stacks of documents on his table are surrounding and towering over him, like the great towers of New York. His cup of coffee is half-empty. He hears a knock on the door. Then, the door opens.
"Ah, hi there, John!"
"Oh- Hi, Damien!"
Damien. He's been Johns closest friend for almost his entire life. He remembers vividly how they first met; An 11-year-old John heading to the market with some apples, A 12-year-old Damien falling on his bicycle on the other side of the road, John coming to help him.
And eventually, they grew older, and Damien helped John go to the same school he was going to. He's always felt a kind of... requirement? To make up for the help Damien gave him.
"I was just walking, and happened to see your garden. It looks like it has not been watered in a while?"
"Oh- yes, I haven't had time to do it. Is it alright if I take a break to do it?"
"Absolutely, is it even a question? I could help, if you need it."
"It's quite a lot of work to tend to all the flowers, so I would like to do that one. You could tend the other plants, mayhaps?"
"Sounds delightful!"
Sitting in a colorful abyss of flowers, removing the weeds and plucking some petals that met an untimely end... It's been a long time since he's felt this calm. He feels at peace with himself. He feels at peace with the world. And with-
With who?
Before he can finish his thoughts, Damien opens his mouth to start a sentence.
"So, has everything been going well with Mark recently?"
"Oh- Um, yes! We were talking just a few days ago. It was quite nice."
"He told me about it. Said he was worried about you getting overworked. Are you alright?"
"Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit stressed, but it's nothing new to me."
"No no no, that's still a problem. You do know you may take a break anytime you need, yes?"
"I need to work on this court case, Damien. It's important that I get this done. I have been getting sleep, I have been taking care of myself to an extent, I can handle it. Do not worry about me"
"I suppose if you say so. But tell me if you feel it is too much, alright?"
"I will. Thank you for your concern."
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It's an early morning. It's Sunday, and finally the weekend. He lets the morning spirit embrace him, and pulls on his typical button-up shirt, and some pants. He walks outside to get some fresh air, and to see if anybody has attempted to contact him.
While opening his letterbox, John finds a letter. Opening it up, he finds... An invitation.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
JOHN BURKE
You are formally invited to
a party at MARKIPLIER MANOR
by
MARK LEESON
On 10/10-1922
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Oh. Oh my god.
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As he dragged on some fancy clothes, and prayed to God that he didn't look like a flabbergasted buffoon, John combed back his long hair. He put it into the tiny ponytail he always did, but in a way, it felt more special right now.
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The night turned into old news, as he won yet another game of poker.
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Ouch! Oh, well, s...
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Oh. Oh god.
John found himself looking down, in what was as far as anyone could tell, a mix of agony, disbelief, and melancholy. One of his closest friends, one that made him question everything about himself, was laying on the floor. He was smeared in the same red color that he always wore, whenever they would go to one of his rehearsals together.
Person after person walked into the same room as he was frozen in place in, and the last thing he could remember clearly was his heartbeat as Abe snatched his collar and asked him questions he knew he didn't have the answer to.
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Dusk pulled up his hair in a large ponytail. As he rested a cigarette on the kitchen counter, Dusk looked outside. He saw the same stars he would gaze at over a century ago. He looked at John's stars.