Take This Dance. {Markiplier x Reader}

Chapter Twelve:

Mark took his keys from his pocket and placed them into the key hole of the front door.

From my first impression, his house was beautiful. It's walls were a creamy color, with the occasional doors being solid white. Clear windows gently sat across the front of the house.

"Sorry if it's messy," Mark looked back at me, then jammed his keys out of the door, "I tried to clean it as best as I could."

"No, it's fine," I shook my head slightly, still clutching onto the strap of my bag. Mark walked in first as I followed him inside.

I didn't know what he was talking about since his house was phenomenal. The living room consisted of dark hard wood floors, with not a single speck of dust spotted. Two black leather couches lay separately, but organized, across from each other. Across from one couch was a wide screen tv that hung on the wall. Below the television was a fireplace, which had some sort of shelf with two individual candles on each end. Both looked like they had been burned a lot. This would explain the waft of cinnamon air that immediately hit my nose once I stepped into his house.

"Tada," he chuckled, turning around to look at me. My mouth was still on the ground at this point.

"Mark," I spoke, "This is beautiful."

"Why thank you," he smiled, then placed his keys on a wooden "key hanger" near the front door.

"No problem," I allowed my eyes to glide across the room, still admiring it. His house made my tiny apartment look like complete garbage compared to it. I was jealous.

"Just, follow me downstairs," he said as he walked to a certain door in the living room. He opened the door, as only darkness consumed the downstairs room.

"Okay," I nodded, then followed him down the dark stairs. I used the remaining walls that surrounded me as a guide into the darkness. I heard Mark flick one light-switch, and once I made it down the many flights of stairs, I noticed many lights flashing on.

What I had saw around me was a dance studio. Three of the walls were covered in stainless mirrors, reflecting every object around the room. The floors were a light color but were still wooden. Bright lights were strung all across the top of the studio. The walls that were not covered by mirrors were a light grey. It complimented the whole room.

"I..." I began to speak, but was currently still dumbfounded by this whole situation. I spun myself around and tilted my head upwards to get a good view of the place.

"What?" Mark laughed, glancing up at me. I turned around to look at him. He was sitting in a folding chair that looked like it had remained in this room for a while. He was slipping on different shoes.

"I just can't believe what I'm seeing," I gasped, still looking around.

"Yeah?" He responded, "It took me a while to actually build this."

"I'm sure it did," I chuckled a little. I unstrapped my bag from my shoulder and placed it on the ground. I sat down on the floor next to my bag.

"When I got this house, it was just a dusty basement," he stood up, then started to walk towards me.

"Oh, yeah?" I started to unzip my bag, scavenging through the bag and grabbing my ballet slippers in the process.

"Yeah," he glanced down at his feet, "I never used it."

"So, you decided to make a whole dance studio?" I laughed. I took off my sneakers and began to slip on my ballet slippers.

Mark laughed, "Yeah, I guess so." After slipping on my slippers, I looked up at Mark. He smiled at me before reaching out his hand to help me up off the ground.

"We should probably stretch first," he said. I smiled back and gracefully took his hand. His hand was soft, but oddly enough rough. I slid my hand away from his, and began to stand on my tiptoes. I glanced down at my feet, and felt my lips form into a smile.

Oh, how I had missed this.