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 Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2012 5:24 pm
There wasn't any time to spare after talking to Paris's mom and making up his mind. Finally... for the first time in what felt like forever... he felt as though he really did understand how he felt and what he wanted and what needed to be done. Going to talk to Marissa was probably one of the better decisions he's made in the past several months. Yes, he needed the time and space, but... once he'd started figuring things out, she helped it all fall into place.
He didn't bother pulling into the garage, despite the rumbling of thunder in the distance, promising a rainstorm soon enough. Instead, he parked right in front of the front door, and he jumped out of the car to make his way, two steps at a time to the entry way.
Peter was already at the door to great him, or hinder him. His room was at the front of the house, so he'd have a perfect vantage point to see if there was anyone coming up the drive. "What are you doing here?" his little brother asked, standing defensively in front of the door, blocking his path inside. He looked a bit worn down, but other than that, he was the same little brat he always was.
"I need to talk to Paris," he responded with a frown, pushing the door open to move around Peter. The kid winced and grabbed onto his side as if he was hit by something, but jus glared at Chris instead of complaining more. Chris hesitated, wondering if Peter really was hurt since he wasn't making a big deal of it, but decided he didn't want to argue at the moment.
"It's okay," he reassured him. "I'm not going to cause trouble." He just needed to talk to Paris... that was all. "Where is he?"
Peter frowned at him with narrowed eyes, his hand lowered back to his side instead of clutching at it. He seemed to be trying to read his expression, as if that would clue him into his older brother's intentions, before finally stepping to the side and mumbling, "Getting changed for bed... But he hasn't been feeling well, so don't plan on staying long!"
Chris stared at his brother for a moment, and then nodded in understanding. After the battle, he was sure Paris wasn't feeling well, but Peter wouldn't know that that was the reason, unless Paris shared with him some of the details of what happened... He hoped he didn't.
Either way, he was happy to be allowed access into the house and made his way to the stairs that ascended from the foyer. He could hear his mother coming around the corner to see who it was, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter shake his head and move towards her to keep her busy. He didn't know what it was that Peter thought he was there to do, but he was glad... He really hadn't wanted to make things worse by getting into a fight with his kid brother while on the way to see Paris...
He stopped in front of Paris's door after moving down the hall, lifting a hand to... what? He was going to knock on it? He wasn't getting cold feet, was he? No... he was sure of this...
It was a soft knock, but hopefully loud enough for Paris to hear. If not, he'd just try again.
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Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2012 7:42 pm
Paris didn’t hear a thing.
He could blame the fact that he was in the bathroom with the sink running full blast, the spray of the water masking whatever slight knock Chris had made against the door. He had his hair piled on top of his head, as was the norm when he went through his night-time hygiene routine, his face covered in white suds from the soap he’d only just lathered on. He’d finished changing into his nightclothes moments before, the summer shorts and t-shirt he’d taken to wearing at the Gallos’ house, where it seemed wrong and especially impolite to prance around in his underwear.
It wasn’t very late, only just after dinner, but Paris was tired. He was always tired, truth be told. Sleep did not come easy these days. It hadn’t since his father had died, but even more recently there had been an added layer to his insomnia—nightmares of the type of battle he never wanted to see again.
Most nights he awoke before dawn, covered in a cold sweat or else jolting awake from the shock. Other nights he could barely sleep at all, simply lied in bed feeling cold and alone, snuggling with his cat and resisting the temptation to take her and leave and crawl into bed with Momma or Peter like a child, or sneak into Chris’s empty bedroom and find some sort of comfort amongst his boyfriend’s old things.
He felt lethargic on a good day and sick to his stomach on a bad one. Today had been somewhere in the middle.
Leaning over the sink, Paris cupped his hands beneath the faucet to collect a small pool of water and splashed it onto his face to begin washing away the soap.
If only he could wash away everything else as easily.
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Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2012 8:52 pm
There was no answer... well of course there wouldn't be one... Chris could hear the water running through the bedroom door, and he could guess that Paris was washing his face or brushing his teeth or any of the other routine things he did as he got ready to go to sleep.
He didn't lift his hand to knock again, but instead turned the knob to be able to step inside.
The first thing he noticed was the scent of the perfume that had once lingered in the air of his apartment. He still wasn't sure what it was called, but it was definitely the smell he associated to Paris. It was warm and sweet, not quite like flowers, but pretty close. Next was the various pieces of collectables that Paris had set on display, obviously trying to make this room as homey as possible. Disney pieces among a few others, but he new they were all special, in one way or another.
Sassy was sleeping, curled up on one of Paris's pillows, and Chris moved closer so he could give her a little pet across her tiny, fluffy head. She blinked her eyes open, stretched and then turned over to go to sleep.
Next to the bed, on one of the side tables, a certain picture caught his eye. He hadn't seen it since it had been taken, so he was surprised Paris decided to get it printed. It was him and Paris doing... who knew what that day. Probably out on a date or just out on the town. Paris was making funny faces at the camera he'd held up to snap a picture of them, while Chris was looking at Paris with... some kind of strange awe in his eyes. There was obvious fondness towards the lively blond that shared the frame with him, but there was also something more...
It seemed silly for him to look at an few months old picture of them and realize that maybe he shouldn't have been so confused about anything at all. He could see it in his own eyes, and he thought he knew why Paris had picked this silly picture over anything else.
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Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2012 9:49 pm
Even though he’d left the bathroom door open, Paris didn’t immediately notice that someone had entered his room. The fall of the water masked the sound of the door opening, and by the time he turned it off, Chris had already padded some ways across the floor. Paris’s vision was further obstructed as he patted his face dry with a towel, setting it aside to grab his nightly moisturizer.
It was as he was applying it that he noticed something out of place in his peripheral vision. He jumped with a start, his heart rising and throat momentarily closing off in alarm, as he whirled around to confront whichever figure had entered his room without his permission.
Usually it was Peter. The little brat had a habit of butting into his business, and even though Paris might put up a fuss about it sometimes, he didn’t generally mind it. The rest of the time it was Momma, but she didn’t typically make it a habit of sneaking up on him. If he didn’t answer the first knock, she was known to knock again. If he didn’t answer that, she’d slowly open the door and call out a sweet “Precious~” to let him know she’d arrived.
Tonight, it wasn’t either of them.
“Sweet Jesus ********!” Paris exclaimed, unconsciously flinging a hand over his heart as if that could somehow prevent it from thumping right out of his chest, as he stumbled and banged his side against the edge of the countertop.
He took in the sight of his boyfriend for a few moments—neat clothes, shaggy hair and all—just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Then he waited until he’d given his suddenly racing heart the chance to settled back down, before he raised his voice in mild agitation, “Chris! What the hell? A little warning would be nice!”
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 4:20 am
By this point, Chris had picked up the picture of the two of them from the bedside table, as if to inspect it and make sure he wasn't seeing things. Maybe he was completely wrong and it was just his mind imagining it, but since he was absolutely sure of how he felt currently, there was very little doubt in his mind what kind of look he was giving Paris in the photograph.
He heard his boyfriend freak out and get annoyed with him, and he turned to stare at him, looking him over as if to check to make sure he was okay and there was nothing immediately concerning about his appearance. Once he was sure he wasn't injured or whatever crazy thing that could have happened when they both were too young and fought in a war that was just too much for either of them... strange things tended to happen. He was pretty sure he still had a few bruises here and there from the most recent battle.
And yet... that seemed enough to solidify his thoughts. If he couldn't live in the moment... well, who was to say they'd live much longer, anyway...? But it wasn't for that reason that he rushed to talk to Paris now. No... he'd pushed him away, made him leave his apartment so he could have some 'time' to himself. Hell, he'd even tried dating other people to see if there was more out there or some other such bullshit.
Instead, he let Paris yell at him, and all he could do was stare at him in wonderment and awe, very similar to his expression in the photo he held and eventually placed back onto the table.
"I love you," he said simply, unaccompanied by any shrug or other motion that could possibly negate its value. Instead, he stared at Paris's face, into the blue-green eyes he'd first seen while playing Silver Springs on his guitar at that stupid college party he had tried so hard to get out of, but had been constantly bothered to go to. Now? Now he could only look back at that day as a turning point in his life. No, he didn't know Paris had been lying to him at the time, but he'd shown that he had gotten over that months ago when he knew it was only the lying part that bothered him, not the fact that Paris was a boy and he'd never thought about dating them before.
But now... now he was certain of how he felt. After months of struggling with this psudo-relationship, one glance at an old photograph made him realize... maybe he was in love all along and just never realized it.
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 11:09 am
The surprise of Chris’s arrival had put Paris in a… well, not a bad mood. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to see him. He just hadn’t been expecting him, and when he wasn’t expecting someone and they suddenly appeared before him like that, he tended to go with his instincts and act on whatever emotion happened to pop up—this case being irritation.
If anything, he was immediately on his guard. He leaned against the bathroom counter for a few moments before straightening up and facing Chris head on, keeping his hand by his chest only because he soon raised the other arm to join it, crossing them together defensively. He moved only close enough to stand in the doorway between the bedroom and the bathroom, as his eyes watched Chris by the bed, noting the picture his boyfriend had taken in hand.
It’d been taken in March, on a random day like any other, a short while after Paris had recovered from the flu but before his father had died, when he and Chris had been back together for almost three months. It had been one of the last truly happy days of Paris’s life. He liked it for that, and kept it as a reminder—perhaps a painful one—that happiness like that was actually possible, that this terrible place he was in right now didn’t have to last forever, that he’d felt alive before and could again if he only believed in it strongly enough.
He’d had his gaze focused on the simple picture in its simple frame when Chris placed it back on the bedside table, and almost missed what he was saying until his brain caught up with his ears and registered the sound of his voice.
Paris’s eyes shot back up to Chris’s face—surprised, confused—and his lips parted to respond, but for a moment he didn’t even know what to say. It took much too long to process, and even when it finally did it seemed almost out of place. He was sure he’d heard wrong, or maybe there’d been more to it that he’d missed, only hearing what he wanted to hear instead of what may or may not have framed it.
His arms loosened, slowly separating as he asked in a small, tired voice, “… what?”
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 2:46 pm
Okay, so he knew he probably shouldn't have busted in on Paris while he was getting ready for bed, but it wasn't like they had never seen each other in various states of undress before, right?? Still... he knew it was kind of rude, and immediately felt guilty about it, especially since Paris seemed to get a bit defensive and moody.
He wasn't entirely sure how he should take Paris's reaction. He knew it was very likely that he didn't believe him, so after taking a small step forward, then one step back so he could close the door to Paris's bedroom behind him, he turned around to look his boyfriend over once more.
Paris... wasn't exactly the kind of person he ever though he would end up falling in love with. Not because he was a boy, but because after Skye, he wasn't sure he wanted to even understand what it meant to completely, willingly, practically irrevocably put oneself out on a limb and trust that someone else wouldn't betray them or let them fall. It was terrifying, trusting one person that much. He trusted Zia and Daniel as well of course, but with Paris there was another kind of trust beyond that... more than just friends.
"I love you, Paris," he said again, eyes locking with Paris's once he was sure he had his attention this time around. While he was certain how he felt, he began to fidget after a couple moments, not knowing if Paris even believed him. "I was wrong... I was scared and I pushed you away without even trying to understand what I felt..." he tried to explain, suddenly feeling as though he'd waited much too long to come to the conclusion he'd settled on. "I didn't understand why you cared about me as much as you did, and I thought I didn't want that... but I do! I miss you... every day. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't sleep, I can't... well, I can eat, but it's not the same," he amended, opening his mouth to say something else before just... stopping himself so Paris could get a word in.
He would start rambling again if Paris didn't have anything to say, though...
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 3:14 pm
Paris had quite a lot to say, but he didn’t open his mouth to do it—except that his mouth was already open, only no words came out.
There were plenty of things he wanted to say; he was a cynical, argumentative person by nature, and so when something seemed too unbelievable to be true he questioned it. In fact, he questioned a lot of things—most things. He had no intention of going through life allowing someone to pull the wool over his eyes, or string him along with a trail of well-chosen fodder only to turn their back on him in the end. He’d had enough of abandonment and betrayal to last him a lifetime. Just once was all it really took.
He wanted to bite back a sarcastic “ya think?”, wanted to make light of what Chris was saying by commenting “of course it’s not the same when I’m not there to do it for you, you big baby,” but he couldn’t get passed the “I love you” part of it long enough to worry so much about all the rest. He was too busy telling himself this was all his imagination talking, that Chris was really saying something completely different than what he was hearing.
Paris didn’t know how to feel about it. He was too conflicted. He didn’t want to believe it because he didn’t want to put himself in a position to be hurt again, but then he wanted to believe it, too, because he’d been waiting so long and he loved Chris so much and he wanted this so badly.
It was all he’d ever wanted.
He didn’t really want to save the world. He would much rather the world not even need saving, but he did it because he had to—because he had family and friends he wanted to protect, and a future he wanted to live too badly to let it be taken away from him before he even had the chance to make it. For the last year or more, Chris had been a part of that future. Even after everything, after the stupid arguments and the separation and the pointless jealousy, Paris couldn’t imagine anything different.
He wanted to dance. He wanted to get on stage and live out his dreams, to awe people and make them happy, and then when he was done he wanted to come home and have someone to share that joy with, someone to love him, to be there for him the way he needed them to, someone he could love and take care of, and know that he was part of something wonderful, that he was doing something good.
After all the complications he’d been forced to face, all he wanted was a simple life, even if he’d rarely ever thought that he could actually have it.
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 3:37 pm
When Paris didn't respond, Chris felt himself falter a little, wondering if he really was too late and that his words were just a bunch of BS now. Or what if Paris thought this was all only because of what had happened less than a week ago with the fight against Chaos. Maybe he thought that he was only bringing this up now because he wanted to not regret it later or something ridiculous like that.
No... this decision had been months in the making. He already knew he felt this way about Paris, but he had been too chicken s**t to let himself.
"I'm a coward," he clarified out loud as Paris continued to watch him. "I thought I wanted 'independence' and to be on my own. A real college bachelor, or some bullshit like that. I'm not even sure what I was thinking, but it was all just a really lame excuse. You were drunk when you said you loved me, so... at first I just assumed it was the alcohol, but you're... you're always so kind and caring. You treat me like I mean something, like I'm worth something. Hell, you put up with me even now... All the times we've fought, every time I'm a douche... no matter what, you still seem to forgive me," he rambled, hoping that something he said would explain why he was an idiot for letting this go on as long as it had.
"I love you," he said for a third time, no louder than the previous two times, but with clear conviction in his voice. "I want you in my life. I need you... No matter what I do, something always reminds me of you. Maybe I'm just sad and pathetic, but... there's always been something special about you. Special to me, I mean. You're not like everyone else... you accept me for who I am, faults and all..."
He was running out of steam, wondering if Paris would blow up on him, call him out for what he was certain was BS... Chris wanted to approach him, kiss him, hug him, just... do something, anything beyond words because he knew he wasn't the greatest at vocalizing his feelings... And so he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, picking at a loose string that didn't exist. He really was a coward, wasn't he...?
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 4:20 pm
There was a part of Paris—the part of him that could appreciate a good fairytale, the part that enjoyed perhaps a few too many melodramatic movies—that wondered if this was too anticlimactic. Their separation had been agreed upon without argument, but with such a calmness and acceptance it had seemed surreal. And now here they were again, facing one another in Paris’s bedroom at Chris’s parents’ house, without shouting and—as of yet—without tears, but facing one another from a short distance with no intention of any outrageous displays.
They had plenty of opportunities in their lives to make this more farcical and exaggerated. They could shout it across the rooftops after a night of fighting monsters, or they could have declared their love and devotion for one another, loudly, in the middle of a battlefield, where their allies dropped left and right and the world seemed at its most dark—and maybe, in an even more fantastical world, their love would have been enough to save everything.
Paris liked it better this way. He thought that the fact that it happened in such a simplistic way offered them a better perspective on the world and their places in, as individuals and as a couple. It didn’t give them foolish ideas. It didn’t dull the seriousness of the situation they were in, or the consequences that could arise from being so involved. On the contrary, it brought things into sharper focus. The danger was real, and death seemed almost inevitable.
Love was not a weapon meant for fighting. It was a reason to go on, to keep trying, to give it their all—a small glimmer of hope in all the madness, because if something like this could actually exist through so much pain, why shouldn’t there come a day when peace did too?
It took a while, but Paris finally let himself unravel, lowering the defensive walls as his arms unfolded, and as he stepped forward he let himself believe that even though this might not last, in this moment, at least, it was true.
Chris was not a liar. Maybe sometimes he was reckless, maybe he was impulsive, maybe he got himself in over his head before he was ready for it, maybe he was a little spoiled and a bit selfish and got himself worked up over the little things before looking at the bigger picture—maybe they both did—but he was also good, and decent, and honest. When he said “I love you” a third time, with so much depth and conviction in his voice, Paris felt his doubts melt away to be replaced with relief.
Once he’d drawn close enough, Paris leaned in to rest his forehead against Chris’s chest and joked, “Don’t you know you’re supposed to serenade me outside my window with some ridiculous song?”
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 4:56 pm
It was a relief when Paris finally left his spot by the bathroom and slowly made his way across the room. The distance wasn't a long one, of course, and it helped that Chris took a step forward to meet him. He let out a small sigh of relief, and chuckled softly at Paris's teasing.
"The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful stop me and steal my breath," he joked right back, not truly singing, but quietly and melodically enough for Paris to pick up the melody if he didn't already recognize the first verse. He lifted his hands to place one on Paris's shoulder, and the other to sink into his hair at the back of his head, massaging gently as if there was some kind of stress he could wipe away with such a simple action. "And emeralds from mountains thrust towards the sky, never revealing their depth."
He expected Paris to laugh, or at least hoped he did. Chris wanted him to know that he was willing and ready to indulge him for however long it took for him to forgive him for being such a jerk. They never should have split as they had, and Chris should have realized how he needed to accept what he felt... really was love. Yes, he knew all the cliches and stories told of love and how it only ever lasted in fairytales, but... this was different. He was happy with Paris. He was lucky, too, he knew... that his parents were so accepting and willing to let him live his life, no matter what.
Chris looked down at Paris, not seeing much more than his blond head, but his heart felt light, as if some great weight had been cast aside by the mere fact that Paris had approached him. No, that didn't mean he had forgiven him or was going to just let him get away with being such a jerk, but... it was definitely a start.
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 5:13 pm
Paris laughed, and then stopped to screw up his face in a mockery of disgust, lifting his head for Chris to see. “No, seriously, don’t,” he said, but he kept his voice light and quietly teasing. “There’s a love confession and then there’s just… too much.”
He paused to take a breath, held it for a few moments and released it on a heavy sigh, letting himself relax, letting himself get used to this again. Even though, on the surface, none of it had really changed in the two months that they’d been caught in relationship limbo, Paris had tried to keep himself as emotionally distant as it was possible for him to be—which under some circumstances wasn’t possible at all. He’d never wanted to be too hopeful, but it wasn’t always easy, not with all the mixed signals and his inability to truly let go.
It was an adjustment to switch back to the mindset he’d had before the break. He didn’t know if he’d be able to manage it at that very moment, perhaps not even that week. He knew this didn’t fix everything. It might heal the strained bonds between them, but there was still so much more going on in his head, still so much going on in their lives. This was only a piece of it—a rather large piece, as it turned out, but it was still one part of a whole.
For now, however, Paris tried not to worry about the other things—not the war, not his father, not the grief that was still so prominent—and he pushed himself up onto his toes while wrapping his arms around Chris’s neck to pull his boyfriend down for a kiss.
And as simple as it was, it felt perfect. It felt real and complete and utterly sublime.
“I love you,” he mumbled into the kiss, as the first annoying pinpricks of tears began to sting his eyes.
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 5:59 pm
Chris laughed softly, amused by both Paris's comments and the face he made. His hand lifted to brush some stray pieces of hair from his boyfriend's cheek, but was almost surprised when Pars pulled him down for a kiss...
And then the 'I love you' from Paris in return. After all this time, he wondered how difficult it had been for Paris to hold himself back, to give Chris the space he'd requested, to not try to hold onto him and beg and plead and throw around those words that would have surely trapped him — whether it pushed him out or kept him chained up and unhappy of not being able to make the decision on his own.
Maybe that was why Paris had been so agreeing to give him space... It was in those times that Chris wondered if Paris knew him better than he knew himself. He wouldn't be surprised. Paris was typically very in tune with the human mindset, especially his.
He held him close, holding him tightly, but not too tight, allowing the kiss to linger for several moments longer. He wanted it to be long enough to mean something, for Paris to understand that he really did mean what he said and that it wasn't just something he'd change his mind on the next day. Usually, he was very good at being stubborn in his decisions. If he decided something it wasn't likely to change quickly. He wanted Paris to believe that, until a time came when they both mutually agreed to go their separate ways, or death, God forbid, he would be true to him and love him with his whole heart and being.
Cheesy and pathetic...? Maybe to some, but to him it was perfect, at least for the moment.
Once the kiss finally ended, he smiled softly at Paris, and in a way he knew was similar to how he'd looked at him in the photo months ago. "I love you, too."
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