|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2012 11:26 pm
"Go sleep on the couch!" Chris snapped, reaching across his bed in order to snatch up the pillow Paris usually used to hurl at him. At this point, Chris didn't even know what they'd been arguing about, or why things had escalated so out of control, but it always seemed to be the same. Paris would tease him, he would lose his temper, Paris would fight back, and then things blew up.
He'd never actually hit Paris with the intention of hurting him, but when his temper shot this high, he was so sorely tempted. And he hated himself a little for it.
"Damn it, Paris! Just shut up," he shot, still glaring at his boyfriend from a few feet away, glad that he had the bed separating them already. Chris grabbed another pillow, just incase he couldn't resist the urge to give him a good whack.
"I don't care, okay? I don't care if I keep my window unlocked, I don't care if I leave my s**t all over my apartment, I don't care if dishes pile up, I don't care that I eat s**t food, and I don't ******** care that I'm being careless with who I trust with my identity!" He wasn't even entirely sure if any of that had come up in the last hour, but he wanted to make sure that Paris was very aware that he was not welcome to sleep in his bed tonight.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Mar 30, 2012 9:47 am
There is was again: “Damn it, Paris.”
At any other time he might have started to back down and maybe begin to consider what he’d done wrong, but they’d already been going for an hour now and at this point Paris didn’t care to try to figure out what or who had been the cause of it. It could have been anything—some completely innocent comment taken the wrong way, or some unwanted piece of advice to pile on top of all the other unwanted advice he’d apparently given his boyfriend. It didn’t really matter because it was a stupid argument to begin with. All of their arguments were stupid—some just happened to be worse than others.
“Don’t be such a p***k,” Paris snapped back, catching the pillow as it was thrown at him. He was tempted to throw it back, but then Chris would either throw it at him again—and Chris threw much harder—or not give it back, and then Paris would be pillow-less. “I could always just go home. I don’t need to be here if you’re just going to be an ungrateful brat about everything.”
He hadn’t raised his voice as loud as Chris had. Paris might be moody, but his temper wasn’t nearly as explosive as Chris’s, though he could still let Chris know when he was angry. Paris’s methods were just somewhat different. He didn’t always shout and he wasn’t usually tempted toward violence. Mostly he chose to be acerbic and insulting, occasionally goading his opponent along or making immature threats, or he picked on their faults with a viciously critical eye.
“Half the time I have to babysit you anyway. You can’t even take care of yourself. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be rotting away here. Oh, no, wait. I’m so sorry. I forgot you still have your mommy to do everything for you. If it wasn’t so late, maybe I’d call her so she could listen to her little pumpkin be a complete a*****e.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Mar 30, 2012 10:17 am
"You babysit me?!" Chris practically roared in exasperation, not bothering to keep his voice at a reasonable level. Nothing that was being said was getting through to Paris, anyway! It wouldn't matter if he tried speaking calmly or screamed like a child.
The comment about his mother doing everything for him was a low blow, and since he couldn't exactly bring himself to start cursing about his mother not always doing things for him (since she really did), he backpedaled to Paris's other comments.
"Go home then!! If you're so tired of being here, then get the hell out of my apartment," he seethed, throwing a hand with a finger pointing towards the stairs. "You're the ungrateful brat, Paris! You get whatever the hell you want from me with my money! I give you rides everywhere, I helped you with studying, but all you did was complain about it!" Or he had at the beginning, but Chris wasn't going to negate everything just because he got better in the end.
"Don't let me hold you back, Your Majesty," he growled with a mocking sweep of his hand and exaggerated bow. "If you'd rather leave to let me rot, I won't stop you." Not that he thought he would rot if Paris was gone. He was perfectly fine before Paris and he would be perfectly fine if Paris went home. "I'm sorry I'm not up to your standards of greatness!" If Paris wanted an a*****e, he'd give him one.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Mar 30, 2012 2:42 pm
“Oh, so now we’re going to start pulling out the ‘I pay for everything’ bullshit?” Paris wondered. “Let’s not even mention the fact that you don’t even let me pay for anything even if I can because you have some weird need to throw your money around everywhere. You know, I can’t even tell if it’s just because you’re that generous or if it’s your way of showing off how much better you are than other people. If that’s the case it’s pretty ******** pathetic.”
Normally Paris wouldn’t even entertain thoughts like that because he was almost completely certain that wasn’t the case—at least when it came to him; he couldn’t guarantee that Chris wouldn’t want to show off around other people—but he wasn’t opposed to taking cheap shots in retaliation, and the best way to do that, he’d learned, was either to bring Chris’s mother into the conversation or throw his money back into his face.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I am more than capable of taking care of myself,” Paris reminded him. “I practically have two jobs. I earn my own money. I make my own food. I wash my own clothes. I buy my own clothes. I clean my own room. I get myself around town without your help because I’m not so high and mighty that I can’t use public transportation, unlike someone I could mention, who got a fancy car for his birthday and has his mommy buy his food and clean up after him when he doesn’t even live at home anymore.”
There was a part of Paris that realized that this was probably a bad conversation to be having, especially since these weren’t even the things that made him angry. They’d never been issues. If anything, it was something to marvel over, but never deride. Chris was spoiled; he knew that, he accepted it, and in some ways he thought it was sort of cute, and even though it was easy to make fun of his boyfriend for it, he knew that pulling other things into the argument when the fight wasn’t even about that would only make things spiral out of control even more.
But once he started, of course, Paris couldn’t back down. It didn’t help that both of them felt the need to be right.
“And you have the nerve to ‘Your Majesty’ me? Sweetie, if there’s anyone here with an exaggerated opinion of themselves, it’s you.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Mar 30, 2012 11:11 pm
"Of course I don't do it to show off!!" Chris nearly stammered after the slight hesitation of being taken aback. Did Paris really think that he was doing it to show off? Enough so that he couldn't tell?? Although he didn't really think of himself as a modest guy, he supposed he was more or less one with how he treated others. He would rather see others happy than to have them look at him like he was some wonderful guy.
Obviously he wasn't one.
He couldn't hold back a flinch when Paris reminded him of all the things he did on his own, while Chris had others do it for him. Everything Paris was saying was true, and he hated it. Confusion was slowly surfacing to conflict with his exploded temper — a temper that he never held for very long, anyway. It might take a bit of time to build up before actually snapping, but once he let out his frustrations, he calmed relatively quickly.
And now that he was paying enough attention to what was being thrown back at him, well...
"Get out of my room," he growled, although it was quite subdued from his explosion just a few moments earlier. It bothered him to have it pointed out how spoiled and privileged he was, because he knew there were others who deserved it more than himself.
But even then, would he just be insulting them? Those who hadn't grown up in the lap of luxury could get by just fine without all the extra comforts, while he could hardly even pick up his own place... Granted, he did take care of his dog and kept his high grades, but that didn't really mean anything in the long run, did it?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 12:04 am
Paris was sorry as soon as he was done saying it all, but he couldn’t apologize yet because he was still rather angry and Chris didn’t seem to want to talk to him anymore anyway. It’d probably be better if they both took some time to cool off. Well, it would probably have been better if one of them had just walked away from the argument when it had started getting ridiculous, but they were both stubborn and they both needed to be right and they were both too emotional for their own good.
After glaring for a little longer and clutching the pillow Chris had thrown at him while telling himself Chris should be apologizing, too—which didn’t make him feel better about it at all—Paris lifted his nose in the air and tried to seem as if he weren’t bothered by any of this. He was, of course, but he certainly wasn’t going to let Chris know that until he was ready for him to know.
“Fine,” he snapped, and turned on his heel to begin marching down the stairs. Normally he walked fairly lightly, but in his anger and annoyance and quickly rising remorse he decided to stomp from one to the other so Chris could hear him go down every single one.
Paris threw his pillow onto the couch once he was in the living room, and then looked around for an extra blanket. He curled himself up there after finding one, spreading it over top of him and making himself right at home. It wasn’t as if he’d never slept on a couch before. Chris’s was pretty comfortable anyway. He often fell asleep there while watching the TV or a movie, so actually spending the night on it shouldn’t be too bad. He’d slept on worse, to be sure.
Of course, he’d never had to sleep there after getting into a fight with his boyfriend before. He didn’t like it. It was lonely and made him feel even worse about the whole thing, and the only thing he could think about was how stupid he was for bringing up such hurtful things when they weren’t even the things that had been bothering him. He felt like the worst person ever on the face of the Earth, and all he really wanted to do after a few more minutes was drag himself back upstairs and snuggle with Chris in bed and take everything back and then kiss it better, but he didn’t think Chris would even want him up there after that, so he just stayed where he was.
He could definitely understand. He wouldn’t want to deal with himself after that either.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 10:57 am
Chris was tempted to throw the pillow in his hands at Paris as he made his way towards the stairs, but held himself back. That would only make things worse, especially since it wouldn't do anything to solve their incessant need to argue about pointless things.
He didn't even bother to point out how he'd taken care of Paris over the last few weeks during which he'd been sick. Sure, he couldn't really cook, but he thought he did a decent job with making sure that his boyfriend was comfortable and had everything he wanted while trying to recover.
The pillow ended up being thrown back onto his bed, where he then flopped over on and turned out the lights, not wanting to think about anything, much less about how much of an jackass he really was. In the end he would always be a spoiled, egotistical p***k with an exaggerated opinion of himself. It made his stomach clench up and had him tossing around for a while, unable to sleep knowing that he'd probably been the one to blow things out of proportion. It didn't really help that he couldn't remember what they'd first been arguing about, but it definitely had nothing to do with how it was ended.
It took him less than an hour to roll back out of bed and quietly make his way down the stairs. He felt like s**t and knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without apologizing, first. Chris hated going to sleep angry, especially when he wasn't angry with anyone but himself, really.
"Paris...?" he asked quietly, remorsefully, as he knelt down on the plush carpet beside the couch. He reached out to gently touch the top of his boyfriend's blond curls, lightly massaging his head with the tips of his fingers. He didn't want to wake him if he was actually asleep...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 6:05 pm
Paris wasn’t having any more luck in the sleep department. He remained on his side for a while, curled up with his pillow and the extra blanket, then stretched out on his back, then rolled onto his other side to face the back of the couch, before deciding he didn’t like that position either and flipping onto his back again, only to return to the very same position he’d been in before some minutes later.
In conclusion, sleeping on the couch sucked, not because it was necessarily uncomfortable, but because it meant something bad.
He and Chris bickered regularly and fought enough to know each other’s buttons, but they’d never had the sort of argument to result in one of them being banished to the couch—an outcome that seemed pretty stupid to Paris, but it figured he’d be the one to end up there first. It made him feel terrible, not only because Chris had been angry enough to demand his absence from the bed, but also because he had nothing to do but lay there and think about all the mean things he’d said to his boyfriend. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking except that he’d been aiming to hurt, and when he realized that he just felt worse, because he should never want to hurt Chris.
Paris was only just beginning to drift off when he felt a hand on his head and heard Chris’s voice whispering his name. He jolted in surprise and his eyes popped open, looking at Chris through the darkness of the living room. He could tell almost immediately that Chris wasn’t angry anymore—and if he was, it wasn’t strong enough to show through the guilt. Paris pushed himself up on his elbow, wanting to cuddle right away but also not wanting to push his luck.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He figured that was exactly what Chris had come down to say, but Paris didn’t care which of them said it first. He only said it because he couldn’t think of anything else. His voice was quiet, too, though there wasn’t really any need to keep it so low. After the shouting from before, it just seemed appropriate. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was just angry and upset, and I know that’s not much of an excuse, but I’m really sorry.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 10:45 pm
He nearly jerked back, not expecting Paris to be awake, or for him to jump up so quickly. But after the slight startle, he settled his hand back down against Paris's hair, brushing at it in what he hoped was a comforting manner.
"I'm sorry," he said just as quietly, shaking his head at Paris's apology. "I was an a**," he admitted, definitely agreeing with Paris's earlier comments about how he was one. He wasn't proud of it, and although he tried to keep himself from being that much of a jerk, sometimes he just couldn't help it.
Chris let out a small sigh, glancing away from Paris in his shame. "You're right... me being spoiled, I mean. I... didn't mean to imply that you couldn't do anything on your own... and I guess I didn't realize that it upsets you that I pay for everything..." he mumbled, feeling rather awkward about this now that he was thinking over all his faults and how he really was a selfish, spoiled momma's boy who did very little on his own if he could help it. He was just so used to others doing it for him that there was no reason for a lot of his attention to go to it...
Even still, he shouldn't have been a jerk, and in an attempt to further apologize, he slid his hand down the back of Paris's head, before pulling him close enough to hug. "I'm sorry," he said again, quieter now that he was speaking against Paris's ear. "You don't have to sleep down here... Come back up with me...?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 04, 2012 1:29 pm
“It doesn’t upset me,” Paris argued, though there was very little heat in his voice now—not like earlier. “I don’t really care who pays for what. You were just making a big deal about it and it was stupid because that’s not what this is about and your money isn’t all that important to me in the first place.”
He wondered if it should be, if living under such different circumstances made them incompatible in some ways, because Chris didn’t quite understand what life was like on the other side, and Paris wasn’t entirely used all the workings of Chris’s life. He considered this for a moment or two before deciding it was a pretty shitty thing to worry about, that differences like that were only important to ignorant people who placed too much significance on superficial things. He didn’t care about things like that. A year ago the money had been intriguing, but it had absolutely nothing to do with the two of them being together now.
“I only said those things because I was pissed off. I didn’t mean them,” he repeated. Paris moved forward with Chris pulled him close, slipping his arms around Chris to hug him tightly. “Please, I’m sorry. I don’t care if you don’t clean your apartment or you leave your clothes everywhere or you can’t cook for yourself. I really don’t, I swear. I always thought it was cute. It’s never bothered me. It’s okay that you’re spoiled, ‘cause you’re not selfish and that’s worse anyway.”
Paris turned his head to kiss and nuzzle Chris’s scratchy cheek. He nodded his agreement, more than happy to return upstairs with him. He continued to hug him for the time being, adjusting his position on the couch to make the embrace more comfortable for the both of them.
“Can we not argue about stupid things anymore?” he asked with a small, rueful smile. “I really hate it. Sometimes I wish I could actually stay mad at you longer, but then I don’t really want to. I just…” He paused to make himself think about what he wanted to say before he could reveal too much. “I just want to be happy. I want things to be easy. I want to be with you. I don't want things to get screwed up because of stupid things like that.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 04, 2012 11:39 pm
"You think me being a slob is cute?" Chris wondered, chuckling lightly as he hugged Paris close, letting him cling all he wanted. If it helped to make him feel better, then Chris would let him cling to him all night. Hell, anything that made Paris feel better would make him feel better in return.
He knew what Paris meant though, about not wanting to argue about mundane things that really didn't matter. Chris knew he'd been a jerk when he started arguing and honestly couldn't remember how it all started, but he knew one thing... he wanted it to end.
"Yeah, I'd like that," he agreed, kneading his fingers gently against Paris's shoulders as he pulled back, having felt the tenseness in them. "No more arguing about stupid things. I don't want things to be screwed up, either. Besides, I would probably starve if you weren't here to feed me."
It was a joke, of course. Chris was more than capable of taking care of himself, but since Paris wanted to help out, he wasn't going to argue against it.
"Come on..." he said with a small smile as he rose to his feet and held a hand out for his boyfriend to take so he could help him up as well. "Let's get some sleep..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 7:22 pm
“Maybe you didn’t notice, but I’m sort of used to taking care of somebody who’s not me,” Paris said. He was, of course, referring to his father, who Paris had pretty much taken responsibility for since his mother left instead of the other way around. “You’re not a complete slob, at least. Just a little one, and it’s not all your fault anyway since your mom spoils you so much.”
He held onto Chris for a little while longer, kissing his temple and his cheek and his jaw, before he loosened his arms and allowed Chris to rise. Paris joined him, taking the offered hand and slipping off the couch to hop to his feet. He clung to Chris for a moment longer, looping his arms around his neck and pressing himself right up against him. Even though he’d apologized, he still didn’t feel as if he’d done enough to make up for all the things he’d said. He wished he could do more. He wished he knew how to settle the uncomfortable feelings that twisted his stomach and made him feel so anxious.
With little else to do to calm it, Paris knew he’d likely be making a large batch of chocolate-chip cookies tomorrow to make up for his behavior.
“Too bad you let me convince you to give it up for Lent, or we could have had some great make up sex,” he tried to joke, glancing up at Chris with a small, almost shy smile. He released him again only to grab one of his hands, walking with him toward the stairs. “We could always make out instead,” he playfully suggested.
Paris took the stairs slowly, quiet and still somewhat subdued—though more because there’d actually been a fight than because of what it’d been about. He could barely even remember the start of it and didn’t bother trying to repair the memory. It didn’t matter. It only mattered that they moved on and fixed it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2012 9:44 pm
"I did notice," he said, trying not to sound too somber and more neutral in response to the thought of Paris spending his time taking care of people other than himself. He knew Paris's family history wasn't as comfortable as his own. He had a lot more to worry about than Chris. That only made him feel more like a jerk.
Chris shrugged lightly when it was pointed out how his mom spoils him, not thinking it was good enough of an excuse, but allowed Paris to cling to him once they stood. He snorted lightly at the thought of his Lenten 'sacrifices', but he didn't roll his eyes or make any other comment. Making out would be fine with him, of course, although the guilt of their most recent fight was still weighing heavily on his mind.
Allowing himself to be lead, Chris followed Paris back up the stairs, but waited until they were at the top to stop him.
"I forgive you, you know..." he said quietly, his hand still holding onto his boyfriend's. Even though he felt more responsible for the argument, he knew that Paris must also be feeling guilty about what had happened between them. "I was a jerk and I'm sorry, and... I'm not mad at you... I want you to be happy, too. And to be with you..." Because being with Paris made him happy, despite their silly arguments and petty, hateful words. He didn't want to lose what they had because of his mistakes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Apr 07, 2012 6:09 pm
He did feel guilty. He couldn’t blame everything on Chris, even though that would have been easy, because he knew this wasn’t a problem that just came from one side. There were two people in on this thing, and they both bore responsibility for whatever happened between them—good things, bad things, and everything in-between. In some ways Paris liked that, having such a close partnership, but he had to admit it wasn’t simple.
Sometimes he wished it was. Other times he didn’t think it’d be worth it without the occasional difficulties.
Paris showed another small smile as Chris stopped him at the top of the stairs, placing his free hand onto Chris’s shoulder to keep his balance as he pushed himself up onto his toes to press their lips together. He kept it chaste but let it last longer than a few seconds. His smile was a little wider by the time he pulled back, and the sick, guilty feeling in his gut was beginning to melt away.
“I forgive you, too,” he said.
It was hard not to, when Chris was so sweet and so kind and made him feel so good. He could accept all the things about him that maybe weren’t so perfect when just being with him made Paris feel like nothing could ever go wrong—even if it frequently did.
“I-” he began, and almost said something else. He stopped himself at the last second, thinking better of it. Now wasn’t the time for it. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want it to be something he just randomly blurted out after a stupid fight. “I am happy,” he finished instead, “when I’m with you.”
He stole one more kiss before he turned to lead Chris the rest of the way to the bed, climbing in and pulling Chris with him, so that they could kiss in more comfort.
Paris was pretty sure he could be happy here forever. He wanted to be. He had every intention to be. He only hoped that nothing worse than petty arguments and little things came between them to ruin everything.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
