Love, Laughter, and a Side of Soup

Mark adjusted the strap of his bag as he stepped into the bustling city square, the late morning sun gleaming against the futuristic glass buildings.

 Layla was already seated at a small café table, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. She waved him over with a hesitant smile.

"Hey, Mark," she greeted, her voice slightly nervous.

"Hey, Layla,"Mark replied, sliding into the seat across from her. "You look... distracted. What’s up?"

Layla fidgeted with her cup, her gaze flickering to the bustling crowd before landing back on Mark. "I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s... kind of personal.”

Mark leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Personal? Oh so this is about the messege I got, let me guess did Neon try one of her fashion "life hacks" on you? Or worse, some wild Luke’s ideas?"

Layla couldn’t help but laugh. "No, nothing like that. It’s about Ash."

“Ash?” Mark tilted his head, intrigued.

She hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly as memories of their kiss flashed through her mind. "Yeah... I think I might like him. Like, like him."

Mark blinked, processing her words, then broke into a smile. "Ash, huh? Well, can’t say I’m surprised. He’s a solid guy, I would even say best I know."

Layla relaxed a little, but her nerves weren’t entirely gone. "He’s so intense sometimes, though. Always planning, calculating. It’s hard to tell what he’s really feeling."

Mark smiled, leaning forward. "That’s Ash for you. He’s like a chess master, always three steps ahead. But you know what? He’s also one of the kindest people I know. He might not show it all the time, but he’s got a huge heart. If you’re lucky enough to see that side of him, it’s worth everything."

Layla smiled softly. "You think so?"

"Absolutely," Mark said with a nod. "Plus, he’d totally build you a rocket to the moon if you asked. The guy’s a genius and almost a romantic."

They laughed, and the conversation meandered into lighter topics, from Layla’s music and games to Mark’s latest gadget experiments and art projects. By the time they parted ways, Layla felt a little more at ease, though her thoughts about Ash lingered.

Mark, on the other hand, headed back to his apartment with a spring in his step.

Mark’s apartment was his sanctuary. Sketches of designs and random doodles were pinned to a large corkboard, and a small workbench sat in the corner, cluttered with wires and tiny tools. He was always working on something.

He spent the afternoon immersed in his work, tweaking the wings of a mechanical bird that was supposed to mimic a real one in flight. The bird gave a jerky hop before toppling off the table.

"Okay, maybe not quite there yet," Mark muttered, grabbing a tiny screwdriver.

His holo-phone buzzed, interrupting him. He wiped his hands on his pants and answered the call. "Hi, Mum."

"Mark, darling, just checking in. Have you been eating? Sleeping? You’re not skipping meals again, are you?"

Mark smiled. “Mum, I’m fine. Eating, sleeping, the whole package."

"Hmm," she said, clearly skeptical. "You sound busy. What are you working on now?"

He swiped the design of the mechanical bird onto the holo display. "This little guy. Still working out the kinks, but it’s getting there."

His mum gasped. "It’s beautiful! You’ve always had such a creative spark. I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished."

Their conversation went on for a while, filled with lighthearted teasing and updates on family back home. By the time Mark hung up, he felt warm and content. Even tho he knew family updates were not the whole truth.

Neon dropped by later to pick up a gadget Mark had fixed and decorated for her a tiny device that translated old text into modern languages.

"You’re a lifesaver," Neon said, testing the gadget. "By the way, do you have any snacks?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Do I look like a vending machine?"

"Kind of, yeah," Neon quipped, earning a laugh from Mark.

The rest of the day flew by as Mark tinkered with his projects, joked with friends, and enjoyed the quiet buzz of productivity. But by evening, something felt off.

He slumped onto his couch, his head heavy and his body aching. His medical robot hovered over, scanning him with a series of soft beeps.

"Diagnosis: common cold," it said with its monotone voice. "Prescribing rest, hydration, and soup."

“Soup?” Mark groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. "It’s the future year 3002! How is soup still the answer?”

"Soup is scientifically proven to..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Mark interrupted, cutting the robot off.

As he lay there, his thoughts turned to his friends. Maybe he could log onto his neural chip and join a virtual art circle or chat with someone to pass the time. But the idea felt exhausting.

Just as he was resigning himself to a sad lonely night, the door to his apartment slid open.

"Yoo, Mark!" Layla’s voice rang out, followed by the sound of footsteps.

Mark sat up, blinking in surprise as Layla, Ash, Neon, and Luke all piled into the room.

"We heard you were sick," Layla said, holding up a thermos of soup.

Neon leaned closer to tyouthermks of soup, smirking as he whispered to no one in particular, "Good soup."

"And we couldn’t let you suffer alone," Ash added, setting down a bag of snacks.

Neon smiled, producing a portable holo-projector. "Movie night?"

Luke held up a stack of games. "Or a board game marathon?"

Mark stared at them, his chest tightening with emotion. "You guys didn’t have to do this."

"Of course we did," Layla said, jumping into a chair by his bed. "What kind of friends would we be otherwise?"

The evening turned into a chaotic, laughter filled gathering, with arguments over game rules, terrible jokes, and even a pillow fight instigated by Neon. By the time the night ended, Mark felt a warmth that had nothing to do with his fever.

Even in his worst moments, he realized, he was never truly alone.

Just as he closed his eyes that night after everyone went home, his communication chip lit up again. He groaned, muttering, "Please don’t be another "we need to talk"  we done that in last chapter."