Not Gonna Get Us

I Don't Want To Talk About It

Ring ring... ding-a-ring

Marks alarm sounded. His head hurt but, it didn't feel like he had a hang over. It felt like your normal excruciating headache.

The boy sat up holding his head and closing his eyes tightly. His hand resting on his nightstand as he blindly searched for his glasses then put them on. The male widened his eyes hoping it'd wake him but, he only yawned. Not only did his head hurt, he was starving. His stomach wouldn't stop growling.

--

An hour later Mark arrived at a grocery store. He was running quite low on food and even shampoo for that matter. The male took a cart and began to sluggishly walk down the soup aisle. The male knew it wasn't good to buy food when you were hungry but, honestly? Who even followed it.

Mark took some soup and placed it into his cart as he took a breath in. He smelt something delicious in the aisle over. It smelt like freshly baked lasagna. Marks stomach grew tight as it began to rumble louder. The good news was it was most likely samples.

Turning the corner, he saw the small cups of food. He smiled eagerly as he reached for one, only to find another set of hands snatched it. Mark looked up to see a lady relatively his age. She seemed a bit familiar.

They didn't say anything. Mark simply took the one next to it.

"Is it good, Lindsay?"

Mark utterly choked on his food. Lindsay looked over at him as her eyes widened.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!"

He nodded.

"Y-yeah." The boy said in gasps for air.

Michael now standing at the girls side as Mark was finishing up his coughing fest.

"Oh, hey, Mark. You shop here, too?" The curly boy asked.

Mark took his last deep breath and nodded.

The lady who served the food starred at all three of them as if it was an exciting TV show. Maybe she saw something they didn't. Or she just was now interested after seeing Mark almost die.

Lindsay fed Michael a bite. The boy had his hands full.

"Thats pretty damn good." He commented licking his lips.

Mark stared as his tounge swept acrossed his mouth.

"You sure you're okay, Mark?" Lindsey asked once again, putting her hand on his shoulder. His blank stare was cut short.

"Yeah. It was really good. I think it was just a bit too warm."

Michael slammed the two milk jugs into the cart as he made a grunting sound.

"Phew." He laughed.

Lindsay roled her eyes.

"Man up." She said taking the cart, pushing it away from them.

"Hope to see you again. Maybe we can talk soon?" Michael smiled patting his shoulder then jogging off slightly to catch up with her.

Mark watched him walk away and turned back to the lady. Her smile was almost too creepy.

"What?" He asked.

She only shook her head and looked down.

--

"Bob! You'll never guess what happened!" Mark informed him as he held his phone with his shoulder, putting way his food.

"What? Is everything okay?"

"I ran into Michael today at the store!" His voice squeaked. Mark was acting like a 15 year old girl.

Bob laughed.

"And? Did you talk to him about... You know? Liking him?"

"No."

"Was his girl there?" He asked. Bob didn't hate Lindsay. Actually, he didn't even know her name.

"Yeah. She wasn't rude like Gavin, thank god." Mark told him.

"I know you don't want to hear this but, you need to tell him. You never know what could happen."

"He could reject me..." Mark's tone softened as he began to think.

"No, no. I mean, what if he decides to marry Lindsay? Or what if he starts to date Gavin? They seem to have chemistry."

The black haired man sighed and paused for a few seconds.

"You're right... I need too. I need to know if anything could happen."

"Exactly! And you know I'm here when you need a shoulder to cry on." Bob told him with a soothing voice.

"You say that like he's going to reject me instantly."

"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. But, I have to go, tell me what happens!" Bob hung up his phone while Mark stared at his.

His thumb scrolled though the contacts until he saw Michael's name.

The man took a deep breath and impulsively selected call. He felt like he was about to faint.