hollaatmegan
August 7th, 2014, 05:16 AM
So, I've been messing around with this idea for awhile now and I've recently sat down to write it. Very strange. I like where it's going, if I can get it to work with me lmfao. Anyway, here's a short little snippet of it, if you could just share your thoughts of what you think? Be honest. Thank you so much for reading. <3 (BTW, this is the beginning of Chapter Two.)
Dylan Collins, stuffy nose stuffed, marshmallow coat in place, and leather jacket under his arm,walks into Little Beans with a few tasks on his mind: He has to return Tony's beloved jacket, he needs tea for his scratchy, swollen throat, and he needs to get Bobbie's order right- it's vital to his well-being (not that he's exactly well, anyway). But she's worse than he is, and so he's been dubbed well-enough to go out in the bitter weather to get warm beverages that may or may not freeze on the way back to their apartment. He has chills and shakes and he aches to his very core, but he hasn't thrown up, yet. So.
He is immediately met with the sight of that girl who's here almost as much as he is, which is both impressive and worrisome. She's tiny. Like, itty-bitty, teeny-tiny tiny. Dylan didn't notice that when she was sitting down ogling him when he was in the first stages of whatever it is he caught from Bobbie, or when he basically had her plastered against the counter because he was running late, and Tony was working, and he needed coffee like no one's business.
The curly haired girl steps aside while she waits for the bartista in the back to make her order, and there's Tony in all his muscular glory, looking like Adonis or something. And, who exactly does he think he is, being that good looking? Get out.
Adonis is raising an eyebrow at Dylan expectantly, and so, okay, maybe he spaced out with his eyes on Tony's face (again), and maybe his nose is running (but Dylan doesn't have enough shame to be embarrassed, he's sick, okay?). And for some reason, he shares that with Tony, intellectually, of course. "I'm sick," he says as he thrusts the jacket at Tony, and Tony just kind of rolls his eyes, a small smirk in place. "Need anything else, Dylan?" And so what if Dylan has to think about this- really dig deep into his crowded brain full mostly of thoughts like, oh, his jaw-line, help- it doesn't mean anything. Whatever.
"Yeah," he finally decides is the correct answer, but.
But Tony's hissing in pain, fingers bright red and maybe turning blue, and there's a to-go cup on the ground full of frozen coffee, and the little curly haired girl has bolted. "What the-?"
But Dylan has a good idea of what the what the could be. In fact, he really, personally knows what the what the is. And so does Tony, but that bartista in the back? Not so much.
"Is there- there's a bathroom back there, right?" he asks as he backs up towards the direction he's thumbing at, already knowing the answer, keeping watch on the other bartista working. "I just have to pee- keep your hand warm, okay," he winks, and Tony rolls his eyes, flames licking the surface of his ice-cold fingers minutely, until the blue fades into a sweaty red, and Dylan gives a thumbs up.
Dylan Collins, stuffy nose stuffed, marshmallow coat in place, and leather jacket under his arm,walks into Little Beans with a few tasks on his mind: He has to return Tony's beloved jacket, he needs tea for his scratchy, swollen throat, and he needs to get Bobbie's order right- it's vital to his well-being (not that he's exactly well, anyway). But she's worse than he is, and so he's been dubbed well-enough to go out in the bitter weather to get warm beverages that may or may not freeze on the way back to their apartment. He has chills and shakes and he aches to his very core, but he hasn't thrown up, yet. So.
He is immediately met with the sight of that girl who's here almost as much as he is, which is both impressive and worrisome. She's tiny. Like, itty-bitty, teeny-tiny tiny. Dylan didn't notice that when she was sitting down ogling him when he was in the first stages of whatever it is he caught from Bobbie, or when he basically had her plastered against the counter because he was running late, and Tony was working, and he needed coffee like no one's business.
The curly haired girl steps aside while she waits for the bartista in the back to make her order, and there's Tony in all his muscular glory, looking like Adonis or something. And, who exactly does he think he is, being that good looking? Get out.
Adonis is raising an eyebrow at Dylan expectantly, and so, okay, maybe he spaced out with his eyes on Tony's face (again), and maybe his nose is running (but Dylan doesn't have enough shame to be embarrassed, he's sick, okay?). And for some reason, he shares that with Tony, intellectually, of course. "I'm sick," he says as he thrusts the jacket at Tony, and Tony just kind of rolls his eyes, a small smirk in place. "Need anything else, Dylan?" And so what if Dylan has to think about this- really dig deep into his crowded brain full mostly of thoughts like, oh, his jaw-line, help- it doesn't mean anything. Whatever.
"Yeah," he finally decides is the correct answer, but.
But Tony's hissing in pain, fingers bright red and maybe turning blue, and there's a to-go cup on the ground full of frozen coffee, and the little curly haired girl has bolted. "What the-?"
But Dylan has a good idea of what the what the could be. In fact, he really, personally knows what the what the is. And so does Tony, but that bartista in the back? Not so much.
"Is there- there's a bathroom back there, right?" he asks as he backs up towards the direction he's thumbing at, already knowing the answer, keeping watch on the other bartista working. "I just have to pee- keep your hand warm, okay," he winks, and Tony rolls his eyes, flames licking the surface of his ice-cold fingers minutely, until the blue fades into a sweaty red, and Dylan gives a thumbs up.