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“C’mon, Bivey!”
Split’s energetic voice rang. The elevator doors slowly opened to HC Icecream — The only stop at an ice cream shop — and the two have obviously found their destination.
Split took a step towards Bive, but she seemed hesitant… Paranoid. There was silence.
“Oh, c’mon, don’t freeze up on me!” Split offered a hand to her, giggling at her own joke and giving a reassuring smile.
Bive couldn’t help but take it. Split’s paw eagerly wrapped about Bive’s clawed hand.
“ARE YOU SURE THIS IS SAFE? THERE'S NOTHING HIDING—“
“Bivey.” Split reassured her, squeezing her hand tightly. “I wouldn’t bring you somewhere I knew was dangerous, silly. I promise.”
Bive took her first step towards the exit. She trusted Split with her life — Felt safe with her. Split was her… Something. She didn’t know what to call her relationship with the Fruit-tuar. But, she knew it was something special. Something she didn’t want to ruin.
Split stepped out of the elevator, and Bive followed close behind.
“I’m sure you’re going to love it!”
“BUT YOU KNO—“
The door closed.
The hum of the elevator moving had started once again. Who knew what floor would be next?
“Har-har!” A familiar laugh filled the elevator — A laugh that was undeniably Mark’s. He had been an occupant of this elevator for quite a while. Every elevator-rider knew him, he was on it quite frequently. I mean, who can blame him? He has places to be!
“Them two… Young love can be such a sweet thing t’ watch unfold!”
Young love . Eugh… Saying that made him sound, and feel, old. Surely he wasn’t old. Just…. Far into his love life.
“They’re such a peculiar duo.” Wallter chimed in. It was only them two in the elevator, after all. It was such a rare occasion, but it wasn’t one he missed. A smile remained on his face “I remember when I saw them interact for the first time. Funny what this elevator can do.”
They both have seen their handfuls of relationships make and break on this elevator. Something about being stuck in a confined space with others can cause such beautiful things to form, and it can break those bonds just as quickly as it created them.
Mark wishes he could blame the elevator.
“Bive sure has grown t’ be more trustin’ of her! It’s nice t’ see her not be so… Scared all the time!” Mark spoke, a grin resting on his face. His arms laid comfortably in a crossed position.
“I’m glad that Split is bringing her to HC Icecream, especially with all the places they could end up.” Wallter hummed softly after he spoke, “I’ve always loved HC Icecream. It’s a nice, little place.”
“I know ya’ do.”
Mark knew all too well. He wasn’t a fan of the small shop, but he had gone plenty of times in the past. Plenty of their dates were held at the tiny ice cream shop. He had almost forgotten about it until now. Almost… It always seemed to happen that way.
Mark’s reply was quiet. Something that, quite honestly, pissed Wallter off even more. Did he have to do this now? Now of all times? What happened to simple conversations? “…Yeah.”
There was silence. Silence, and the humming of the elevator.
Why was he so stuck on that Ice cream shop? What was, honestly, so special to Mark that it had to plague his thoughts now? He truly was in a good mood! He loved the elevator! He loved talking to his friends, and even caught himself enjoying the small talk he and Wallter would have.
“Is Vanilla still yer favorite?”
“What?”
Wallter took this moment to look at the other — The other had dropped his arms to his side, already looking at Wallter. They made eye contact, and maintained it until Mark's response.
“Vanilla ice cream. ‘Was yer favorite back in the day.”
Wallter took a moment to respond. He couldn’t tell if the pit in his stomach was anger or yearning.
Probably both.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. I haven’t had it in a while.”
“Yew haven’t had icecream in a while?”
“No, I haven’t…” Wallter paused.
“Is chocolate still yours?”
Mark felt stunned, taken aback by the question. He didn’t expect him to remember much about him, let alone something as futile as that. “Yeah.” He responded “Yeah, it… Er. It is.”
More silence. Wallter had grown to enjoy the silence on the elevator. On the other hand, it made Mark rather uncomfortable.
“Yew kno’, maybe,” He paused. Mark knew better than to ask this.
“Maybe we could—“
“Mark.”
Wallter was stern, furrowing his non-existent eyebrows and looking down at the mannequin. “Don’t even finish that, the answer is no.”
“Wallter, I just want t’ talk t’ yew!”
“There is nothing to talk about, Mark.”
“There is so much t’ talk about, yew—“
“There isn’t. Drop it—“
“I know yer hurtin’ too.”
Wallter paused, looked to the side, then back at Mark. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please, j’st stop pretendin’ it didn’t happen.” Mark didn’t even know what he was saying by this point — So much pent up frustration and grief all found an outlet, and he didn’t know how to stop it.
“I’m not. ” Wallter spat out. He looked away from Mark. This time, he didn’t look back. “It’s been months— Years, Mark. The decision has been final since the day we signed those papers.” He crossed his arms. “You need to learn to cope with it.”
Mark squeezed his hands into fists — He had heard this speech before, and he didn’t like it anymore now than he did back then. — “Only reas’n yew can cope is because of that grey stuff!”
“At least I have a coping mechanism.”
“Yeh, one that rots yer brain!”
“You’ve never even tried it.”
“I would rather work with concrete than drink any of yer grey stuff.”
“Oh, of course! Bringing this up again!”
It was purely accidental, Mark swears. Maybe… Force of habit? He wasn't sure, but he sure did know that he didn’t mean to say it.
“Don’t know what I expected from a woodworker like you.”
“From a what did ‘ja just say?! ”
“I shouldn’t have expected you to be any smarter than the material you’re made of.”
“Why I Outta—“
“This is my stop.”
Mark froze, turning his head towards the door. He failed to even notice the subtle ding! of the elevator. It was some floor he didn’t know the name of — He barely knew any of the names, if he was being honest. He had no need to remember all of the floors. He knew the hotspots, his floor and a particular floor called “Flatgrass.”
He had never seen Wallter get off on this floor. He wondered if this was even the floor he intended to go to in the first place, or if this was just the closest stop.
“Wha–.. But, yew just got here.”
“And this is my stop.” Walter’s voice was cold. So cold, Mark believed it could make his wooden arms grow goosebumps. He was never like this before.
That Grey Stuff changed him. He missed the old Wallter.
As Wallter left the elevator, his blue scarf flowing beautifully behind him, Mark found that he was holding himself back from reaching out to his ex-lover and taking ahold of him. He craved to run his wooden fingers against his rough skin just one more time. To feel every bump and ridged edge.
If he could feel Wallter’s hand in his, for one last time, he could finally get over it.
The elevator door shut and Mark felt the elevator shift and begin to descend once again.
He missed his young love.