A/N: 3 Chapters this time~ Hope you enjoy!

 

 

1. Two of Clubs

The world really was a beautiful place, Mark thought.

 

Especially right here. He was in a city of 8 million—2.5 million if you subtracted out the other boroughs and just included Brooklyn—but here he was, out in the open and completely alone.

 

A miracle made possible by Jackson Wang and his family's real estate brilliance. They'd set up a little hot chocolate (in winter), smoothie (in summer), and pastry shop in what had probably been the city's least maintained park to cater to all the joggers and dog walkers who did their daily exercise there and apparently weren't bothered by the amount of dead tree branches and rotted looking benches ading the area.

 

And then election season had rolled around and a government program geared at prettifying the area to charm the good will of voters had descended upon the park. The dead branches were picked up, the benches replaced, and the grass trimmed. A carousel was put into the park's southern area. New food kiosks began to trickle in. And then, the cherry on top—the politician's socialite daughter opened up a branch of her little bistro right smack in the middle of the park, near where the Wangs had set up shop. Rather than buying them out or giving them incentives to close up shop, she actually let them in on her plans for the park, which her father's campaign had pretty much adopted as its banner community cause.

 

She was ambitious—she wanted a convertible ice rink like Bryant Park's, her bistro on one side for the rich visitors, the Wang's pastry shop on the other side for the commoners. She was just rich enough to make it possible, too. The rink was smaller scale, of course, and it was nowhere near the iconic level of the park that had inspired it, but after its construction and debut year, it was considered to be one of Brooklyn's hidden gems.

 

This had all happened while Mark and Jackson were children. Things had expanded since then, particularly the pastry shop. The Little King's, as it was known, was now two floors and pretty well-known in its own right. The hot chocolate was particularly famous, especially since the Wangs favored a specially designed, fat mug that could carry a lot of hot chocolate while still keeping it warm so the customer could enjoy it as leisurely as they wanted.

 

The area was always bustling during the day, both The Little King's and the bistro full to bursting and the ice rink littered with skaters in the winter. But around midnight, a good few hours after both restaurants closed for the night, the area became eerily quiet. The park shut and latched its iron gates, one of the few to maintain a steady curfew rather than the vague and often unenforced “closes at dusk” rule.

 

The world was most beautiful during those dead hours. Sometimes, when Jackson was in a generous mood, he'd give Mark one of the keys to the shop and tell him to knock himself out enjoying the solitude he couldn't have in his five roommate apartment in Bay Ridge. And like now, Mark would take advantage of it fully. He'd spend some time gliding across the rink, carving patterns with his blades into the ice beneath him and watching his breath come out in clouds in the cold air before using his key to go into the shop and taking a leftover muffin to enjoy as he dozed off curled up in one of the cozy armchairs by the window. All of it executed under the night sky in a city that never slept and was crammed to the brim with people you couldn't avoid being overwhelmed by when walking in the streets, all of it done purely and perfectly alone.

 

He fed off that feeling, the sensation of being alone but not lonely. He liked being a practically anonymous speck in this massive city within an even more massive world. He was sure so many people would hate it, knowing that even in a sprawling place such as New York that they could live their lives largely unnoticed by anyone or anything, but that was exactly what he wanted. He liked the peace and silence and most of all the freedom just to be without restriction for a few brief hours before he was back into his apartment and the unceasing pulse of a city that made you feel like you had to be something special.

 

The pressure got to be too much sometimes. Family and friends were always wondering why he was okay working as a bank clerk when he could be doing something better with his degree. Half-heartedly started relationships ended with quips that he didn't go above and beyond for anything, and claimed it was doubtful that he liked them all that much to begin with.

 

He usually didn't. People wanted too much to force him outside of who he really was, but he wasn't interested in bending to suit anyone else. He wanted to be with someone who let him be himself and could somehow love that self, even if it wasn't perfect. He wanted to be with someone who filled the feeling of being with with as much energy as he felt now in the feeling of being without.

 

Right now, the being without was enough. He smiled as he sailed across the ice, doing relaxed figure 8s and taking the cold air into his lungs. The night sky twinkled with stars, the bare branches of the trees swayed in the wind, the constant blare of car horns echoed in the distance, and he danced in circles at their center, taking everything in without being interrupted by any of it.

 

It was so quiet and relaxing that he couldn't help being completely jarred by it when a loud voice called from the railing overlooking the rink. “OI!”

 

Mark stopped in his tracks, almost falling over on the slippery ice. There was a person standing there, exactly where a person shouldn't be. It was a young Asian man who looked to be around Mark's age. He was wearing what looked like business casual—a pressed pair of khakis and a woolen pea coat with a white dress shirt collar peeking through. Not the sort of look you would associate with trespassing on private property. Mark was technically trespassing himself, but at least he was doing it with Jackson's blessing. This person had absolutely no reason of being there unless he'd gone on a long walk unaware that someone would be locking the gates at midnight.

 

Mark skated closer to the young man, trying not to let his annoyance show on his face. So much for his night of solitude.

 

“First thing,” the intruder said in slightly accented English, seeming entirely unperturbed by the fact of his intrusion, or the fact that Mark was by all appearances was intruding on a closed ice rink. “Are you even real?”

 

Mark stared at him.

 

“I'm not trying to be weird here,” the guy said. “But one, your moves out there were unnaturally good. Two, you've got an unnaturally good face. Three, you're blonde. Maybe you're some kind of water sprite or spirit of the forest or something. Or maybe I'm hallucinating. It's been one of those days.”

 

Mark sighed, rubbing his hands together. Now that he wasn't in motion, he was getting cold. “Why are you here?”

 

“It's an emergency, actually. I was just mugged a few minutes ago.”

 

“And you're not calling the police because...?”

 

“They took my phone, of course. There's a big market for iPhones these days, didn't you know?” The stranger leaned against the railing. “It's okay, there wasn't much else to take. Just a five dollar bill. My wallet was at home because I forgot it because, like I said, it's been one of those days. I'm just looking for the one thing I know that will make it better.”

 

“Which is?”

 

He pointed to The Little King's. “Hot chocolate.”

 

Mark frowned. “Seriously?”

 

“I'm dead serious. I'm a law abiding person, okay? But I just jumped a fence and wandered here on the off chance that there would still be someone here even though it would be weird for anyone to be here with the place locked up like it is. All for that hot chocolate.” The stranger's smiling face faltered a little bit. “It's comfort food. Or comfort drink, I guess. I've only had it once, and that was after I got laid off from my first job. I was in tears that day, but that miracle hot chocolate perked me right up. I thought it might work after getting mugged at gun point. Or maybe I'm just here because I had some adrenaline to work off after having my heart practically leap out of my chest.” The stranger paused, taking a breath. “You are real, aren't you?”

 

Mark nodded.

 

“Good. You being magical would also be good, but I'm also okay with this. Just so you know though, you're really, really attractive. I may not even need the hot chocolate to calm me down because of how pretty it was watching you skate. You're like...” The guy paused, considering. “Never mind, no lame comparisons. Let's just say you're a bright spot on a dark, dark day. But if you want to get me hot chocolate, I won't say no.”

 

Mark stared up into the stranger's once again smiling face, a face that was just as lovely as he claimed to find Mark's. The smile wasn't reaching his eyes. In fact, if you looked closely, it looked as if he would burst into tears at any moment. Not that he could be blamed for that, really. Being mugged at gun point could hardly be a happy experience even if it was only five dollars and an iPhone. For all his bravado, this guy was probably feeling shaken to his core. He was right; he genuinely looked like the last guy who would jump a fence to hunt down something from a most likely closed shop under normal circumstances. He was definitely upset.

 

Mark reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the key to The Little King's. The stranger exhaled, a genuine smile appearing on his face, then swung over the railing to jump down onto the ice rink with Mark. It was a short drop, but a tricky landing considering the slippery surface. He latched onto Mark's arm as he caught his footing, grinning sheepishly.

 

“I'm graceful, normally,” he said. “Just not today. And not on ice.”

 

“You could have just waited for me to get out of the rink and get you into the store normally.”

 

“No. I actually don't think I can wait right now. Not with my heart all jumpy like this. Can't you feel it?” He took Mark's hand and it up against his chest, which really was palpably racing. After a moment, he released Mark, wincing. “Okay, that was awkward of me to do. I usually don't force strangers to my chest right away. I'm just really weird right now. I'm sorry.”

 

“It's okay,” Mark said. And it was okay. This whole evening was weird, but it had to be even weirder for whoever this guy was. Going from getting mugged to randomly jumping a fence to even more randomly finding a strange, apparently “unnatural” guy doing figure 8s on a closed ice rink in the middle of winter had to feel surreal, like a dream. If Mark could help to ground him with a little hot chocolate, that was the least he could do.

 

He started gliding for the lower door to The Little King's which was ground level with the ice rink—both the bistro and the pastry shop had small little booths for customers to rent skates and go from the restaurant straight out into the rink. The stranger wobbled after him, almost falling. Mark backtracked, taking his hand. It was freezing.

 

“If I fall, now you're going to fall,” the stranger said weakly, though he didn't force Mark's hand off. Even with Mark's hand steadying him, he was still wobbling all over the place. Mark sighed and instead put a firm arm around his waist, smashing him against his side so it was more like the poor guy was being pulled along than actually doing the walking himself. That, at least, seemed to work. The stranger went silent and let Mark take the lead until they were safely to the door.

 

He unlocked the door and they climbed the short staircase from the rental booth to the cafe itself. The young man glanced around the room before sitting down at one of the tables.

 

“Restaurants are weird empty,” he said. “The one time I was here, there were so many people I could barely sit down.” He paused for a beat. “Do you work here?”

 

Mark shook his head. “No. It belongs to a family friend.” He glanced around at the different beverage machines. “Just so you know, I'm not sure I can even make the hot chocolate the way the owners do. I can try.”

 

“It's okay. Just do what you can. It doesn't matter. I just needed to be... somewhere else, I guess. Calm down, clear my head. It was so silly. I didn't even have anything. But that guy had a gun. Must have been pretty desperate.”

 

“It's a desperate world.” Mark dug out the barista manual and tried to decipher the Wang method of making a hot chocolate.

 

“If he'd just asked for the five dollars, I would have given it to him.”

 

“Would you?” Mark asked, genuinely curious. “Most people just walk by beggars.”

 

The stranger shifted in his seat. “Um...actually, you're probably right. Still. I'd rather not have had my whole life flash before my eyes while being relieved of five dollars.” He shivered. “It's such a lame life, too. I mean, what have I even done with it, you know?”

 

Mark shrugged. He didn't know this person. He didn't know.

 

“I came here to do something great. That's what some people in Korea think of New York—it's a dream city. Someplace to do something you only thought you could do in dreams. And what do I do? I get a degree. Waste a whole year just trying to get hired, wind up laid off of my first job, end up stuck as an intern even though I have my degree, then get robbed at gun point... so much for dreams.”

 

“At least you have dreams,” Mark said, fiddling with the hot chocolate machine. “I don't.”

 

“You don't,” the stranger echoed. “And how is that?”

 

“Fine. A little... well, I don't necessarily want to be an incredible person. Just being a person is fine. But it would be nice to really want something, I guess.”

 

“It hurts when you can't get it, though.”

 

“But wanting things is what makes you a person. If you don't want things, what's the point? Maybe you don't have everything, but you at least try, so your odds are already better than everyone who doesn't. You probably have a less lame life than me.”

 

“I don't know about that. The person I saw skating outside wasn't lame... you're majestic. Maybe it's not incredible in your book, but it is in mine.”

 

Mark didn't say anything to that. He simply toyed with the machine until it , then started following the step-by-step manual of hot chocolate mastery.

 

“Want anything extra in here?” Mark asked. “Whipped cream? Caramel? Cinnamon?”

 

“Whipped cream and caramel, please.” The stranger smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You're great for this, by the way. It was pretty ridiculous of me to come here.”

 

“Pretty ridiculous,” Mark agreed.

 

“But it seemed like the right thing at the time. And maybe it was right. I'm feeling okay now. Even without the hot chocolate.” He played with the napkin dispenser. “So, what's your story?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The whole midnight skating looking like a spirit of the forest thing. Are you there every night?”

 

Mark shook his head. “Just sometimes. When I need some alone time.”

 

“Ah—the alone time I so kindly disrupted.”

 

“It's fine. I just get sick of my roommates sometimes. You're not stealing my food, watching TV at top volume, or screwing someone loudly in the next room, so we're good.”

 

That earned a wince. “Good old roommates.”

 

“You can always count on them.” Mark grinned as the hot chocolate machine finally began dispensing into the waiting mug. “Hey, looks like I got this.”

 

“Bless your soul. You're going to be a prince in your next life for this, I bet.”

 

“That will be five dollars.”

 

“I take it back.”

 

Mark poured some caramel into the drink, topped it with whipped cream, and handed it over to his unexpected customer. “Here you go. Your comfort drink.”

 

“Thanks. I'll treasure it.” He took a deep sip. “Oh my god. Perfect. Just like heaven. You really must be an angel.”

 

“I thought I was a forest spirit?”

 

“I'm still trying to figure out what you are. Seriously, randomly lucky things don't happen in my life. There shouldn't have been anyone at this store.”

 

“And if there hadn't been, what would you have done?”

 

The guy shrugged. “I don't know. Slept on a park bench and wallowed, probably. Something weird and unsatisfying.”

 

“Well. You managed the weird part, at least.”

 

“Maybe.” He downed more of his drink. “It's cool if you think about it, though. If I hadn't been robbed, this would have ended just like any other night. This way, I kind of got my own mini adventure. The next time my life flashes before my eyes, I'll have something interesting to remember.”

 

Mark wondered if he felt the same way. He probably would have been perfectly content to have spent the night alone the way he'd planned. But in a way, he didn't mind the intrusion. It didn't feel like a true intrusion—someone forcing themselves in where they weren't wanted. This person somehow fit fluidly into his little bubble here, not disrupting it, but enhancing it.

 

“So you're from Korea?” Mark asked, remembering him mentioning it earlier.

 

“Yeah. I came here several years ago. It was hard work, learning English to this extent so I'd be ready to stay here. But I'm still pretty glad I came, even though it hasn't worked out the way I planned. I do miss home sometimes, though. Were you born here?”

 

Mark nodded.

 

“That must be interesting in its own way. When I came here, I was shocked by all the people and the buildings. I was from the country, so I've never seen anything like it. But for you, that was just your childhood.”

 

“I think I could have done without it. All the people, I mean.”

 

“Hence the wanting to be alone thing?”

 

“Yeah. But this kind of thing...I don't mind this.”

 

The stranger smiled. He looked so pretty when he smiled—he had nice lips, for one, and his eyes smiled with him. Mark felt a strange, hollow ache in his chest. The stranger had jokingly called him an angel, but surely this was the look of a true angel. Warmth seemed to radiate from every single part of him, and Mark oddly felt like he wanted to bask in it. Like he wanted to be in the presence of this crazy angel forever.

 

“Hey,” the stranger said.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I'm completely broke right now, but I want to do something to pay you back. You probably don't believe in fortune telling, do you?”

 

Mark shrugged. He didn't really have any feelings about it.

 

“I learned this back home from someone at a fair. It's not the standard Korean style, but I think you'll be more familiar with it here. Cartomancy? Reading cards? My mother says to always have something special to show in case of an emergency. This is only the second time I've done this. The first time was for my grandfather, when I lost his birthday gift on the train.” He pulled out a deck of cards and split them into piles, shuffling them in what seemed to be random sequences. Finally he set them down.

 

“Whether you believe in it or not, it's fun. Pick the cards at the top of the piles.”

 

Mark obliged him. He turned over a two of clubs, six of spades, and an ace of spades.

 

“Let's see,” the stranger said. “Two of clubs. Interesting. Not what I would have immediately thought of for you. It represents conversation.”

 

Mark snorted.

 

“It's not saying that you talk a lot. Just that you've reached a point of needing to open up a line of communication. Either at work or your personal life. Or maybe this very moment? Whatever the case is, it's important to say the right things and not leave things unsaid. There could be problems if you don't communicate what you're thinking correctly.”

 

The stranger's fingers moved to the six of spades. “This card is about fate. A destined event. An encounter or change bearing significance. It can also be a warning.... that there might be conflict if you fail to take the necessary leap in reaching your fate. Whether this card is good or bad can depend on you. But the fact that this card showed up...” His fingers drifted to the ace of spades. “It's very telling. This card is a powerful card, just like in poker. It represents change, transformation, and rebirth. Something in your life might be shifting. Something may end, but you'll gain something in return. It's probably related to your moment of fate and your line of communication. If you open yourself, something new and great will come from it.”

 

“So, lots of change is coming my way?” Mark summarized. Normally, the prospect wouldn't thrill him, but if the change was anything like this evening, if meeting this strange person was his moment of fate, he thought he could bear it.

 

“That's what the cards say.” The stranger (now increasingly mysterious with every moment) gathered his cards and tucked them back into the deck and into his pocket.

 

“You're not going to tell your own fortune?” Mark asked.

 

“You're not supposed to do that. Bad luck and dangerous, they say. I'll just stick to thinking in my head that my reading is the same as yours. I think it would cool if our futures-” The young man's eyes darted down to his watch, and he flushed suddenly, quickly grabbing his mug of hot chocolate and chugging it down furiously.

 

“I didn't realize how late it was,” he said, wiping his lips. “I need to go.”

 

“Okay...” Mark said slowly. He wanted to protest, he realized. The words don't go were fighting for exit in his throat, but there was no real reason to say them. Surely this person had work the next morning and had to go. Or his roommates were worrying about him. Mark certainly couldn't keep him here and demand he spend the night at The Little King's just because he happened to find him interesting and somewhat comforting.

 

“Look, thanks for this,” the young man said. “For everything. I wasn't expecting anything good to come out of today, but this all was weird and amazing, so thank you. I must be lucky after all to find a spirit of the forest out of nowhere, right?” Unexpectedly, he reached out to grab Mark's hands, squeezing them tightly. “Goodbye, spirit.”

 

“Goodbye, crazy person,” Mark said softly.

 

With a wave of a hand, said crazy person went to the main door, flicked the lock, and stepped out into the cold winter night to go back where he came from.

 

Which, Mark realized suddenly, he had no idea where that was. He didn't even know Crazy Person's name. That was what he should have said or asked instead of worrying about going or not going. A part of him had oddly not considered this small detail important up until now, but how would he find this random wanderer again without a name to go on?

 

He quickly ran across the room and threw open the door. The stranger was nowhere to be seen. Mark cursed. Usually it would be easy to figure out what direction he'd headed, but in this case, the two restaurants and the ice rink blocked his view from multiple sides. He looped around the building one way and glanced, then tried the other side. No mysterious person in either direction. Whatever the case was, he was gone.

 

Am I never going to see that person again?, Mark wondered. It was a crushing thought, though when he'd said goodbye just a few minutes ago it hadn't seemed so terrible. Being alone in this place was his default state of being, the way he liked it. But now it did for once feel lonely. The stranger had filled the room with an indescribable sense of warmth and comfort, and Mark hadn't needed to be much different from how he usually was to take it in. Hadn't it been a moment of fate, just like the cards outlined for him? Sure, strangers came and went out of your life all the time, most of the time without you even noticing, but hadn't this one stayed just long enough to carve his presence and make himself missed?

 

And Mark really did feel a strange pang of absence. It was probably temporary, something that would pass in a day or so, but he wasn't sure he wanted his life to completely go back to the way it had been. He'd drawn the ace of spades—wasn't something supposed to change? He didn't want his world to do a complete 180. He still didn't want to be an incredible person by New York standards.

 

He wanted to be who he was and be seen by someone who saw that as incredible. He wanted to be an ordinary person who could be confused for a spirit of the forest by someone just crazy enough to think it was possible.

 

But it was probably a once in a lifetime happening. He'd been found once by someone like that, and chances were it wouldn't happen a second time. He'd probably never even see the one person who had found him again. New York was a city of 8 million. You couldn't just let the single one you wanted to know wander off into the crowd to be lost in the clutter. Once lost, they stayed lost. You'd already missed your chance.

 

 

---

 

He hadn't had his usual peaceful night's sleep at The Little King's, and was already wide awake when Jackson barged in at 6:30.

 

“Princess time is over~” he trilled, nudging Mark's armchair. “Hope you had fun while it lasted.”

 

“I need you,” Mark said, yawning.

 

“Oh, do you now?” Jackson wiggled his eyebrows. “I've been waiting for this, Mark Tuan. I always knew you'd fall for me one day.”

 

“God, no. I need your help.” He pulled out the napkin he'd been doodling on earlier. “Have you ever seen anyone like this at the store?”

 

Jackson stared at the rough sketch of the stranger Mark had drawn. Mark was no artist, so he'd made notes as he'd gone along. Eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed. Pillowy lips. Estimated height measurements.

 

“Dude, everyone comes to our store. Unless this is a regular, how am I supposed to know who he is?”

 

Mark's face fell. “He only mentioned coming here once.”

 

“Then there's no way.”

 

“Then could you at least keep an eye out for him? He's of Korean descent, really likes the hot chocolate here, and maybe...” Mark flushed, his voice dropping into an embarrassed grumble. “Maybe he'll ask about a spirit of the forest?”

 

Jackson's face turned smug. “Sooooo, who are we talking about here? Has someone developed a crush?”

 

“Not a crush,” Mark mumbled. “I just...kinda...want to meet again.”

 

“That's huge for you. I'm all about this. I'll pay more attention, if it will help Marky find looooo~ooove.” Jackson paused. “What's his name?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“But you just said you met him.”

 

“I did.”

 

Jackson sighed tragically. “God, Mark, you're such an idiot. Names first, flirting later. You're just expecting to find this guy again through a crappy sketch and my help? Even with my assistance at your side, chances aren't good.”

 

“I know,” Mark said glumly.

 

“Wow. You're actually upset about the lack of being able to see another human being. What happened to you?”

 

“I'm not sure, really.”

 

“Come on, tell me everything.”

 

Mark reluctantly told Jackson about what had happened on the ice rink and after. Jackson seemed to get a huge kick out of the stranger thinking Mark wasn't even real, as well as the card reading.

 

“Dude, he probably just made your reading up to give you some flirtatious hints that you didn't even pick up on.”

 

“He didn't give me much of a chance to say anything before bolting, so I'm a little skeptical.”

 

“Maybe Crazy Person is the magical one. Running away at midnight like Cinderella.”

 

“More like one in the morning.”

 

“Did he leave a glass slipper behind him?”

 

“Not that I could see.”

 

“You may have to issue a royal proclamation, then. Offer a reward for the discovery of your one true love.”

 

“I never said he was my one true love.”

 

“He's your one true something if he's gotten you to care so much. You're not supposed to just let that kind of person go.”

 

“Yeah, I think I realized that two minutes too late.”

 

“But fate was in your fortune, so maybe what's supposed to happen will happen anyways. We'll see.”

 

---

 

Mark checked Craigslist first. He remembered something about a missed connections page, and sure enough, New York had a massive list of people who'd seen someone they liked but failed to get their name or number. Feeling somewhat embarrassed, he looked at all the males looking for males postings in case his missing Crazy Person had also belatedly had regrets about running off without his name. He couldn't find any (though read some entertaining stories about the lost could-be loves of others). This didn't really surprise him. The stranger was a foreigner and probably didn't know much about American classifieds culture.

 

That didn't stop him from whipping up a pitiful little missed connection of his own.

 

Hey.

I don't know why I'm doing this. You're probably not going to see this. And I really don't do things like this.

But I'd like to at least know your name. You gave me a fortune, don't you at least want to know if it comes true?

Anyways, we met on the skate rink by The Little King's in Brooklyn after hours (if the police read this, please don't arrest us for trespassing). I made you a hot chocolate. You were...

I don't know.

But I can't stop thinking about you.

If it's the same for you, contact me with one of the things you confused me for when we met, Crazy Person.

 

He didn't receive a message after a few days. Technically, he did receive a message, but not from who he was looking for. Someone mailed to say that he sounded cute, and if he didn't find his real missed connection, they'd be open.

 

But Mark wanted the connection he'd already made. He wasn't the kind of person who could attach himself to anyone. This case was special.

 

Any time he wasn't working, he spent at The Little King's, scanning the faces of customers. His mysterious stranger never showed, or at least not when he was there. Jackson did his best to keep an eye out, but Mark wasn't sure there was a way for him to pay attention to everyone who passed through the shop's doors. For one, it was winter and the store's peak season. Then, on top of that, Jackson was a charmer who chatted up customers. He'd hone in on one and let his parents or the other part-timer take care of the rest. When his attention was fixed, it was hard to shake it.

 

Whenever he could, Mark would borrow the key to The Little King's and stay out on the rink after hours, waiting for a voice coming from the railings. It was no longer a soothing ritual. His every nerve seemed to be singing, waiting for something he wasn't sure would ever happen.

 

He wasn't used to wanting something this badly. He wasn't used to feeling so lonely whether he was alone or with other people.

 

You barely know that guy, he tried to remind himself. There's no reason for you to be this crazy. But he already felt like a lost cause. Being with for the first time had given a feeling of strength, a kind of strength he couldn't achieve on his own. Having someone there to listen to and who listened to him without all the constant questioning of why are you like this? Why do you want this? was its own kind of beautiful. Even more beautiful than the late night stars, his solitary existence in a busy world. Someone he wanted to find was lost in that busy world, and there was really nothing he could do now to pull him out.

 

---

 

He caught a cold from spending so much time outside. He was stuck for a full week in his apartment with his obnoxious roommates, and his throat was too sore to tell them to shut up when they got on his nerves or interrupted his naps with their nonsense. He couldn't even call Jackson for updates, though Jackson would text every now and then.

 

Idk man, there are people who kinda look like him, but thanks to all the scarves and face masks, I'm really having a hard time here. Maybe you should buy out a billboard for him? Enlist the internet for help?

 

Mark didn't want to turn his private experience into a spectacle. It was enough that Jackson knew about his memory of that night, his secret treasure. He didn't want to become an internet article, or embarrass his missing Crazy Person by ing him in a spotlight he probably wouldn't want. Even though it was America, a lot of people probably wouldn't have an “aww how cute” reaction to a guy with this kind of attachment—whatever it was—to another guy, and it would probably spiral out of control.

 

Not that he had control over it, to begin with.

 

A line of communication, a moment of fate, a change that altered everything. All these things had happened, but the stranger hadn't told him what would become of him afterwards. It didn't seem fair that all these things had ended with a period, not a continuation. You talked to someone, your heart opened up, you feel differently now. It's over. The end. Nothing else happens now.

 

He had to do something. Sick and miserable though he was, it was even more miserable knowing that when he got better, there was nothing really to look forward to. The world wasn't as beautiful as it once had been.

 

But there was someone out there who could make it beautiful, and magical, all over again. He just had to find him.

 

---

 

When he finally felt well enough to venture outside again (with a scarf, face mask, and a pocketful of cough drops just in case), he went straight to The Little King's.

 

“Okay, I don't know if this is something or nothing,” Jackson said, “but there's this one person—at least I think it's just one person—who comes in and kind of waits around as if they're looking for someone. I don't know if it's your person, though. He's always bundled up, so I can't see what he looks like. And he freaks out whenever I try to talk to him.”

 

“You talk to him normally, right? Nothing aggressive?”

 

“Aggressive? When am I aggressive? When am I scary? Huh, Mark, HUH?”

 

“Right now?” Mark coughed weakly. “Around what time is this person or similar persons around?”

 

“2ish? A late lunch break maybe?”

 

Mark grimaced. “I usually can't get out of work at that time. But I can try... I have to try.”

 

“I don't know. It's not like he shows up every day. It's more like at irregular intervals throughout the week I see someone who seems to be scoping the place out a lot and who's hard to identify? It's never the same day, so you can't just call off every day. I could try to... I don't know, stall him in the store next time it happens? Call you and let you know a suspect is in custody?”

 

Mark glanced around the room, eyes landing on a the whiteboard where The Little King's menu was written for people waiting in line to browse. Their specials changed depending on time of year, so they preferred that to a standard menu since they could change it frequently.

 

Mark pointed to it suddenly. “That.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you have another menu you could use in place of that? I'd like to borrow it.”