Street Youth Rising ~Septiplier~

Skater Boys

--Jack--

Mark finishes up his question looks over at me, waiting for me to answer as we walk side by side.

It took me nearly ten minutes to get him dressed and out the window with me. I basically had to find his clothes, stick a note to his bedroom door - "Left early for coffee! See you after school. ~Mark" - and help him fix his hair. Find his shoes. He basically had to get entirely ready for school and for the morning we were about to share. He was really holding us up. On top of that, I've been ignoring his incessant questions for a little longer than I can take and I'm starting to get annoyed. It's been a little over thirty minutes and he still hasn't shut up about being out here at this time doing 'whatever it is you're up to', as he chose to put it. I bare my teeth and try not to loose my temper on this boy as we walk. However, he persists with his questions.

"Quit ignoring me Jack. Where are we going?" He asked. I sigh near angrily as I turn to face him, a fire burning in his eyes as the moon painted us blue. His tan features were no longer existent with the pale moonlight that lit up all of Athlone. A bright moon it was, but there was nothing brighter than his eyes. His eyes held both annoyance and question as shadows fell across his face. The way he looked in this light almost made it hard for me to be mad at him. No matter how gorgeous he was, I decided, I couldn't let him turn me soft just yet.

"Don't worry about it. Stop asking questions. Just a little further. We're almost there." I say, answering all the questions he's had in the past forty-five minutes. His eyes scream worry now, but he kept a cool aura - something that surprised me for someone so tense. I turned to walk and I heard him follow, his breathing a soft and comforting sound; more calming than the breeze through the trees as our feet padded softly against the pavement.

I lead him silently. He had quietened and was now just following. I actually had to look back to make sure he was still there. I turned once more to look him in the eye before continuing our moonlit walk. I almost forgot he was behind me. It was odd to me that I was the only one who could make the quiet kid - the shy guy - talkative.

Once we reach the destination I smile widely and stop, stumbling forward after Mark bumped into me on accident. My heart leaps slightly and I grip my chest, feeling winded from the shock of nearly falling. I turned to look at him and he seemed to fall back into submission.

"I'm sorry." He mutters, his eyes meeting his black Vans. He looks smaller than usual as he twiddled his thumbs, looking like a puppy who'd been thumped on the nose. I remembered that lost puppy look from Monday. It made me feel bad for him in some way. Maybe it was just the pitiful eyes? I almost wanted to drape my arm around his shoulders reassuringly; however, I resisted the urge.

"It's okay, just be careful." I say to him. He looks up and nods carefully as I step up to the gate, lifting the latch and stepping in, motioning for Mark to follow. He hesitantly steps in and his eyes immediately grow wide upon entering.

Looking all around, there were skating ramps everywhere. There were cubbies for shoes, helmets, and other items. The benches where some kids smoked weed had writing all over them, not that I minded the funky smell or spray paint. The graffiti on the ramps actually calmed me as I walked further in, leaving Mark in awe of the (somewhat obscene) messages spray painted all around the park.

"What is this place?" He asked me. I stared at him through the dark, the moon being the only source of light to illuminate the two of us. I smiled, the pale moon probably making the rare feature visible to him.

"This is the skatepark. A lot of my memories are here." I said. He nodded, coming in further to stand by my side.

"Sorry if I seem rude to ask, but why did you bring me here?" He asks, turning his body to face me. The wind blew through the trees as he stared at me, waiting for an answer. All of a sudden, my bones chilled and my hoodie no longer kept me warm. I looked into Marks eyes and I saw a silent message. It was like a story I couldn't read. For what odd reason, that enticed me. That made me want to ask more questions about him. My mind seemed to wander to an unknown place. At least until Mark snapped me out of my thoughts, saying my name in that angelic American accent of his - a sound that must have been crafted by the angels, just like Mark himself.