[ and marcus switches off his phone, slipping it into his messenger bag alongside a few other things he wants to bring with him. it's all artifice — there's only one thing marcus really wants to take with him, but if he shows up with a gift for henry and nothing else, that's... pretty embarrassing behaviour for a first date, right? he lines his bag with his notebook, his walkman, a spare change of clothes just in case, and after spending way too long checking himself over in the mirror, he makes the drive out.
marcus is just in his uniform, because it's easy, simple, and still the nicest thing he owns. button-down shirt, dress pants, blazer — it's not until he's actually knocking on henry's front door that he realizes how fucking stupid it is to wear his school uniform on a date with someone who literally just talked about how his school is full of environment-destroying, blood-sucking capitalists. he's in the process of quickly shrugging off his blazer and stashing it in his bag to hide it, wondering if he'll be able to change into the t-shirt he brought with him before henry opens the door, when henry opens the door to greet him. marcus, alarmed, clears his throat, zips up his bag and hoists it up on his shoulder. already ready to just fucking yeet himself off the balcony and sprint back home to safety. ]
Uh — hey. So — I know you said not to bring anything, but —
[ but he did. marcus immediately unzips his bag again and plunges his hand blindly into it, searching around until he finds what he's looking for, now buried somewhere beneath his blazer. a few seconds later and he holds out a casette tape, eyes wide and jaw tense. he skipped the i'll make literally every track on this mixtape morrissey just to spite you energy he went into creating this with, partially because he wanted henry to actually like it, and partially because there are only so many songs you can put on a cassette. he really overthought this, alternating between songs he loves, songs that feel representative of him and that one violent femmes song he doesn't even really like, but wanted to include because it has enough mainstream, energetic appeal that henry might be drawn to. because he's probably normal when it comes to music. not a douchebag like marcus.
aaand marcus is already second guessing himself. should he have given this to henry later? like, when he wasn't just standing awkwardly in his doorway waiting to be invited inside? who the fuck knows. probably. ]
[ henry has never taken less than an hour to get ready for anything in his entire life. it takes a long time to carefully design everything from his appearance to his environment, and even longer to make it look like he hasn't done that if that's the impression he wants. controlling how, and when and where and how people see him is the one advantage he ever ever has. an advantage that it would take far longer than twenty minutes to maintain. a fact he should have considered well before issuing a spontaneous invitation.
leaping up from the floor, henry throws open his closet. his wardrobe here is nothing compared to what he had at home, but he has to find something he looks good in. he's already wearing black jeans so he leaves those on and shrugs off his hoodie and t-shirt, shoving them out of sight. without much time to agonize over the decision he just grabbed a black shirt and tried not to think about if that makes him look like a caterer while he buttons it on his way to the bathroom.
by the time he's brushed his teeth and gotten his hair to at least stay out of his face, henry remembers he promised food. or claimed to have food so he should have something. that's the difference between a date and a hookup, right? he has limited time and limited skill, but what he does have are... tortillas and pasta sauce and enough ingenuity to fashion that into... pizzadillas with enough cheese and pepperoni and pesto. why not. as an after thought he sets out grapes and cheese slices and more pepperoni in case he ruins the pizza tortillas in the oven, and drops a single rose into a glass of water. that totally at least signifies a date thing.
finally, he just manages to corral Nailgun into his tiny unicorn stable in the living room when he hears marcus at the door and freezes. he'd been so focused on getting ready that he hadn't even taken the time to freak out. taking a deep breath, he opens the door as calmly as possibly. ]
Hey-
[ before he has a chance to say anything else, marcus hands him the mixtape, a literal cassette. henry is so endeared he can't stand it. turning the tape over in his hand, he glances between it and marcus, hoping the overwhelming affection he felt at the gesture doesn't show too obviously on his face. then he clutches it to his chest as if it needs safekeeping. he pulls marcus forward a few steps, just enough to be able to close the door behind him, then leans in to kiss him as though he can't help himself any longer. ]
I- Sorry. You are so stunning that it is, frankly, absurd.
[ what he meant to say was 'thank you,' or perhaps that he could finally dig out the CD he'd made for marcus a while ago, or even just a simple you look nice. his cheeks and ears flush a warm pink. great job already, cheng. ]
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no subject
i'll be there soon.
[ and marcus switches off his phone, slipping it into his messenger bag alongside a few other things he wants to bring with him. it's all artifice — there's only one thing marcus really wants to take with him, but if he shows up with a gift for henry and nothing else, that's... pretty embarrassing behaviour for a first date, right? he lines his bag with his notebook, his walkman, a spare change of clothes just in case, and after spending way too long checking himself over in the mirror, he makes the drive out.
marcus is just in his uniform, because it's easy, simple, and still the nicest thing he owns. button-down shirt, dress pants, blazer — it's not until he's actually knocking on henry's front door that he realizes how fucking stupid it is to wear his school uniform on a date with someone who literally just talked about how his school is full of environment-destroying, blood-sucking capitalists. he's in the process of quickly shrugging off his blazer and stashing it in his bag to hide it, wondering if he'll be able to change into the t-shirt he brought with him before henry opens the door, when henry opens the door to greet him. marcus, alarmed, clears his throat, zips up his bag and hoists it up on his shoulder. already ready to just fucking yeet himself off the balcony and sprint back home to safety. ]
Uh — hey. So — I know you said not to bring anything, but —
[ but he did. marcus immediately unzips his bag again and plunges his hand blindly into it, searching around until he finds what he's looking for, now buried somewhere beneath his blazer. a few seconds later and he holds out a casette tape, eyes wide and jaw tense. he skipped the i'll make literally every track on this mixtape morrissey just to spite you energy he went into creating this with, partially because he wanted henry to actually like it, and partially because there are only so many songs you can put on a cassette. he really overthought this, alternating between songs he loves, songs that feel representative of him and that one violent femmes song he doesn't even really like, but wanted to include because it has enough mainstream, energetic appeal that henry might be drawn to. because he's probably normal when it comes to music. not a douchebag like marcus.
aaand marcus is already second guessing himself. should he have given this to henry later? like, when he wasn't just standing awkwardly in his doorway waiting to be invited inside? who the fuck knows. probably. ]
no subject
leaping up from the floor, henry throws open his closet. his wardrobe here is nothing compared to what he had at home, but he has to find something he looks good in. he's already wearing black jeans so he leaves those on and shrugs off his hoodie and t-shirt, shoving them out of sight. without much time to agonize over the decision he just grabbed a black shirt and tried not to think about if that makes him look like a caterer while he buttons it on his way to the bathroom.
by the time he's brushed his teeth and gotten his hair to at least stay out of his face, henry remembers he promised food. or claimed to have food so he should have something. that's the difference between a date and a hookup, right? he has limited time and limited skill, but what he does have are... tortillas and pasta sauce and enough ingenuity to fashion that into... pizzadillas with enough cheese and pepperoni and pesto. why not. as an after thought he sets out grapes and cheese slices and more pepperoni in case he ruins the pizza tortillas in the oven, and drops a single rose into a glass of water. that totally at least signifies a date thing.
finally, he just manages to corral Nailgun into his tiny unicorn stable in the living room when he hears marcus at the door and freezes. he'd been so focused on getting ready that he hadn't even taken the time to freak out. taking a deep breath, he opens the door as calmly as possibly. ]
Hey-
[ before he has a chance to say anything else, marcus hands him the mixtape, a literal cassette. henry is so endeared he can't stand it. turning the tape over in his hand, he glances between it and marcus, hoping the overwhelming affection he felt at the gesture doesn't show too obviously on his face. then he clutches it to his chest as if it needs safekeeping. he pulls marcus forward a few steps, just enough to be able to close the door behind him, then leans in to kiss him as though he can't help himself any longer. ]
I- Sorry. You are so stunning that it is, frankly, absurd.
[ what he meant to say was 'thank you,' or perhaps that he could finally dig out the CD he'd made for marcus a while ago, or even just a simple you look nice. his cheeks and ears flush a warm pink. great job already, cheng. ]