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The silence was deafening, occasionally interrupted by the ticking of the clock resting on the wall or the creaking of the floorboards. Except the ticking was off by a few seconds, signaling that it must be fixed. Wallter’s boyfriend caused the floor to whine, including the subtle clinking of his prosthetic legs against the vinyl plank. The asynchronous sounds were quickly irritating Wallter, who squirmed in his seat on the couch in dismay. “Mark!” He called out, annoyance audible in his tone of voice. “Are you done yet, dear? I am getting tired of waiting.”
“Hey now!” Mark snapped back, his yell muffled by his closet door. “Don’t rush me now, boy! I am tryin’ to find somethin’ fancy to wear!”
Wallter rolled his eyes at Mark’s answer, unsatisfied. “I am coming in!” He yelled back, standing up from the couch. He first straightened and dusted off his pants before walking to Mark’s bedroom. There was a small, strangled yelp before more rustling of clothes; the movements were uncoordinated.
“Don’t come in yet!” Mark gasped out, but it was too late; Wallter turned the doorknob and opened the door…
Wallter’s face turned pale, as if he saw a ghost. The wooden figure was familiar; his voice was that of a loved one, but it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. Mark would not have such terrible fashion sense.
“...What,” Mark asked, his facial expression twisting into something uncertain as Wallter stared at him in shock. “Is there somethin’ on my face?” His hand reached up to scratch at his beard made out of splinters.
“Mark…” Wallter finally spoke after a long minute; his hand rose to cover his mouth. His expression was unreadable, albeit with his brows furrowed. “You… Look… Like you’re preparing to be a spectator at a fashion show!” His serious facade, on his last word, he began to cackle.
Meanwhile, his boyfriend felt his face grow hot with the sap that acted as blood in his body. “Whaddya mean ‘m goin’ to a fuckin’ fashion show!” He squaked, throwing his arms up in the air while Wallter kept chuckling to his dismay.
The outfit Mark was wearing was… interesting, to say the least. The color scheme was uncoordinated, a neon green vest upon a dull purple button-up. His bottom half had no clothes yet, still in his boxers. His prosthetic legs were visible, and his iconic construction hat was missing. Mark’s walls of defense were gone at this moment, making him even more flustered.
“Mark… Maybe you could be the next model on the runway also.” Wallter snorted; with each second it went on, Mark’s face got redder and redder. For a short while, he gained control of himself, wiping a tear away before speaking. “In all seriousness, I am prohibiting you from being in that outfit. May I help you refine your clothing taste, or do you wish to continue dressing up like a clown?”
“Oh, why I oughta… Hey now!” Mark suddenly objected; he snarled as his finger poked sharply at Wallter’s chest. His reaction shook his clay boyfriend out of his playful mood; Wallter was a bit confused about why his lover was acting so angry. “Don’tcha patronize me now; I can easily find me a set of clothes better than yers!”
Awkward silence fell between them. They both shared the same knowledge: Mark was bluffing and trying his hardest to make himself feel better.
“...I apologize if I offended you, Marky, but truly,” Wallter paused, gazing down at his boyfriend with a pouty look. “I want to help you find appropriate attire for our reservation, please… May I?” He stepped closer, getting more and more into Mark’s personal space. Wallter’s chest was eye-level to Mark, his earthy smell stronger by the short distance.
It made Mark’s head spin, his gaze moving up to Wallter’s. “I genuinely cannot know if yer doin’ this on purpose sometimes or what.” His Southern drawl was unsteady, in shock from being flustered to angry to being flustered.
Wallter cocked his head to the side, as if he were confused before realizing what Mark meant. “Oh goodness! I am so sorry!” He squeaked, his hands rose to cup over his cheeks. He looked more embarrassed than ever, giving Mark his personal space back. “I have forgotten that you despise that! I am so, so sorry!”
His boyfriend stood there, wondering how in the world someone could be so ignorant yet so smart. “...Yer fine, don’t beat yerself up over it.” His metal legs creaked as he began to walk out of the closet. Mark stopped just short, placing his hand on Wallter’s shoulder. “Well, I guess ya could pick out some clothes fer me. Just don’t make me look even more stupid than I am right now.”
Wallter met his gaze, his mouth agape before settling into a soft smile. “Of course, dear.” He cooed, placing his own hand over Mark’s, caressing his knuckles. He leaned down to give a soft, tender kiss on his lips before pulling away. “Now, I won’t be long.”
His wooden boyfriend nodded, with a slight smirk on his face. “Ok,” Mark uttered, walking out of the closet.