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 Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 5:23 pm
Paris raised an eyebrow at the pile of stuffed toys that toppled out of the closet when Ladon finally conceded to open the door. "This is your big secret?" he wondered, crouching down to look at them, picking up one after the other to scrutinize each one. He treated them gently, since it was obvious great care had gone into maintaining them, even if some of them were a little worn. "They're cute. Do you collect them?" he asked, smiling at the musketeer mouse.
He stood back up when he'd finished looking at all the animals, making sure he didn't step on any of them as he examined Ladon's clothes. The normal half wasn't all that exciting -- typical clothing he'd expect a kid with Ladon's prissy attitude to wear -- but the other half, the frilly, lacy half, definitely caught his attention, and his eyes noticeably brightened. He started riffling through them, gaping at them.
"Ladon, do you actually wear these?!" he said, a bit louder than necessary. "And here I thought you had such a boring fashion sense! I mean, your eyepatch gives you that sort of rouge-ish look, but your clothes? Definitely not. Why don't I ever see you wearing any of this?" He would ignore the fact that this was only the second time they'd met and therefore he hadn't really had the opportunity to see if Ladon ever wore any of it or not.
"I would totally wear this," Paris declared, finding an especially cute top. "You have to let me borrow it some time. Where do you get all this?"
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 5:54 pm
Reaching down, he slowly picked up a carousel horse and lightly held it, giving it a tender squeeze for his own comfort as he held the creature to his chest. "I repair them. I like the older ones, which are usually falling apart, and fix them. Then I got into making them clothes….or fixing on the ones they already have." He had a thing for second chances, and he expressed it through the animals he found. The unloved ones. The forgotten ones. The ones that were usually thrown in the trash or just given to the dog to be torn apart. These were the ones that were once loved, and then thought as no longer being valuable in their old age because their damage meant they wouldn't get so much as a dollar on Antiques Roadshow.
There was also the fact he was more hand's on, and appreciated things made through skill, personal talent, practice, hard work, and by a personal who loved what they did and not by a machine. Mass produced had no soul to it.
He had often thought about giving them away to needy children or charity, but he hadn't and just continued to bring in more torn toys to repair.
The little horse he held was an example. It had been destroyed with ink, had lost an eye, and had lost the hair from it's mane and tail. He fixed it all, and then he added a carousel-inspired saddle and reigns. It's new eyes were chocolate brown, shinning in the low light of his room.
Looking up, he shrugged at the clothes. "I wear them….just not where anyone I know would see them." His fingers went to rub one of the horses' ears, kneading it between two fingers. "I used to wear something like that when I was growing up, but …well, if you're not trying to look like a girl and just wear those clothes as a girl, you pretty much get yourself thrown in the trash on a daily basis and rejected from every invitation list." Wearing those clothes had made him an outcast from the other elementary school kids, and so he put them away in the back, switched his clothes to what everyone wanted to see him wear, and knew he was safer in them. Soon, he was just the boy that was ignored, and without the attention drawn to him, he wasn't beaten into the ground.
"I find them around town. There are a few stores that hold some very nice clothes. Then, if I feel like it, I add on." A ribbon here, a little bit of accenting, and maybe some lacework on the hem of a shirt. Small things – and the usual reminder not to go overboard with adding a bow.
As Paris delighted in his clothes, he was on the fence if he should accept the compliments to his wardrobe or defend himself by saying he was really boring and bland as Paris first thought.
Then he looked at Paris, a boy wearing lacey panties and a pink blouse, holding up one of his shirts. It was a dress shirt of dark gray, black pinstripes, and an orange bow serving as a tie around his collar. There was white trim made of satin ribbon around the collar and the hem of the cuffs. It was gothic aside from the white rabbit cufflink, which were different. One sniffing down, the other sniffing up. The buttons up the front were small carrots.
It was too adorable, too cute, too girly, and here was Paris dressing in a way that clearly suggested he appreciated such things. A small, tiny, hesitant, almost withheld smile slowly moved on his features. "You…can borrow that tomorrow if you want."
Noticing the clothes in his hands, he held them out. "I have other pajamas too, if you want to wear those. Um…that aren't as boring as these." Yes. He had secret pajamas as well.
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 6:15 pm
If Ladon had voiced the bit about the toys and second chances, Paris would have hung on every word. Regardless, he could sense in Ladon's voice and in what he did say that a lot of thought went into it, that it wasn't just some meaningless hobby. Paris could understand; he'd been abandoned himself, and the people who should be taking care of him didn't show him as much love as they used to. He was a bit like the stuffed animals in a way -- tossed aside and forgotten -- so he could relate, more than Ladon probably realized.
Paris's broad smile shrank to one that was a little more tame, a little more kind and tender, and for a moment he dropped the girly, excitable act he put on and just acted... normal... or as normal as a guy like him possibly could. "I don't usually wear pajamas. I was just going to wear my clothes to bed," he told him, but he looked at the clothes Ladon had dug out for him, and he took them gratefully. "But thanks," he said, holding onto the shirt he'd taken from Ladon's closet as well. "It's really cute, so if you don't mind..." Having other clothes to wear would prevent him from having to walk the Walk of Shame away from a completely innocent situation.
Paris considered Ladon for a moment or two, realizing he'd just barged in to a part of his life the other boy kept to himself. "You know, you shouldn't feel like you have to dress differently for other people. If they're going to make fun of you for it, then they aren't worth your time. I mean, look at me. I've been made fun of plenty of times, but in the end what matters is that I feel good about what I'm wearing. It'd be nice if other people understood it, but that's probably asking a bit too much. Either way, this stuff is cute. Honestly."
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 6:37 pm
"Thank you." His expression was softer, thought still slightly embarrassed, but he looked up at the boy in a way that showed he truly meant and appreciated that the other boy was okay with him and his little secret.
Seeing as Paris had nothing against the stuffed animals, he slowly started to move them out of the closet and went to bring them back to their spots. People would say they were inanimate things that were broken down into cloth and stuffing, but he had invested too much time and put too much care into them to not thing they were something more. The clothes he thought up for them were part of the personalities he created for them, and in that way, they have lives of their own, feelings, and started to be more alive. Putting them in the closet was shunning them, as if he were ashamed of them, and he was. Their beady eyes looked at him sadly and said he was a coward, and the guilt just curled in him like a heavy eel.
"It's good to have fresh clothes to bed. No point in not being comfortable." He pointed out, knowing how much different going from street clothes to bed clothes could make you realize how tired you were and prepare you for a deep sleep. "…and besides, you're clothes looked… tight. " Probably why Paris had taken off his pants in the first place. "It would also help if you were fully dressed on the rare chance my mother does pop in. I doubt she will since she respects my privacy, but best to be safe."
Picking up four of the stuffed animals, he moved to a shelf and set them back, in their proper set place, and slowly walked back to pick up 4 more. "That’s nice of you to say, but in the end, I'd rather have friends than just being happy with some clothes. People are more important, especially those that want to share their company with you." He moved to a shelf and, pulling out a little stepping stool, went on it and started to put the stuffed animals up. "They're just clothes in the end. I've worn the other clothes. The t-shirts. The jeans. They're…fine. I've just dealt with wearing them before. Everyone has their secrets after all. In the end, all friends keep secrets from their friends. So if I held that from someone, it wouldn't be that bad. I'm sure they'd keep things from me." He frowned at this thought, pausing in his plushie placement for a second, before setting the last one down.
Stepping back down, he went back to the closet, clearly avoiding eye contact, and picked up the last 3 stuffed animals. "I'm sorry, but you might be happy with just dressing the way you want and don't mind the stares, and you might know a lot of people because you're just that type of person. You also do people favors, and I'm sure those people you are with like that too about you." He did sleep around, as Paris seemed proud to point out. "….but how many friends do you have?" He rose up, the three stuffed animals in his hands held tightly. "…And do those friends know everything about you?"
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 6:55 pm
Paris looked at him sadly, feeling just the slightest bit degraded. He tried to play it off with a shrug. "I don't really have any friends, I guess, but if I did, I wouldn't be friends with them unless they accepted everything about me -- my clothes, who I choose to sleep with, everything. It's not fair to you, having to hide things just because you're worried people won't like you for it. I like your clothes, and I bet other people would, too."
He glanced down at the floor as Ladon put his animals away. It wasn't so much that he was hurt by the comments and assumptions; people were always assuming things about him. It was just the way the world went. "But I guess you'd rather accept the opinion of someone a little more 'normal' than something like me. And that's okay. I admit I'm a lot to handle."
He put the shirt he'd been allowed to borrow back into its proper place in Ladon's closet, not wanting to make a mess of his things, even if he planned on accepting his offer of wearing it the next day. He thought it would probably be better if he went back to the bathroom to slip on the pajamas Ladon had given him, but he didn't want to leave in the middle of their conversation. Instead, he turned his back on the other boy, stepping into the sweat-pants and pulling them up his legs before tugging off his pink shirt. If Ladon happened to look, he'd be able to see part of Paris's tattoo peeking up over the waistband of the pants, centered in the small of his back -- a black pentagram housed within a perfect circle, with a bright blue rose blooming from the very center. It was hidden as soon as Paris slipped the green t-shirt over his head.
He turned back around once he was done, setting the shirt he'd worn that night with the rest of the clothes he'd removed earlier, talking to Ladon as he did so. "I like your room. I like all the animals. It feels safe in here. Comforting..."
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 7:16 pm
It was clear by their silent actions what they were saying, and Ladon noticed that he hit something in Paris. It wasn't about his mother, but he had insulted Paris in his own way. How could you make advice about friendships when you only sleep with lots of people? While Ladon might have not meant it, it had slipped out in its own way, and Paris was bright enough, sensitive enough, to figure it out.
When he noticed his error, and the way that Paris had returned the shirt as if he had decided against accepting anything from him again, he paniced. True, Paris might not have been the most wholesome person to talk to, to know, and to know more about, but the large leap that Ladon made in trusting him was enough to show that he wanted to know him more.
"I didn't mean it that way. You just seem to like the attention and there are a lot of people you know who give you company, but that's not the type of company I'm used to so why would anyone want to hang out with me?" It had went out quickly as he tried to explain himself and keep Paris from taking everything the wrong way. He worked on repairs as quickly as he could to patch up this little mess he was creating. "It's just that I HAD worn the clothes and it got me nowhere. You might say that people would accept me that way, but they didn't. The attention just made me a target, and…and I'm not like you. I can't handle being stared at, talked about, and made fun of. At least you have people, boyfriends, who give you attention, but I don't have that. It's just me. I can't deal with all that and have that follow me for the rest of my time at school. It just makes life so much worse."
Breathing deep, he made sure to catch Paris' eye, trying to make a point. What point that was, he was hoping talking would somehow bring him to. He wasn't good with words. "I might not agree with what you do, but I don't think you're a bad person. Different, but not bad. I don't hate you, and just because I talk a lot, I'm just trying to give you advice because I care." He dropped his hands, wondering if he even made his point or if he should just stop. It wouldn’t be the first time he was told that he was trying to hard or just making matters worse.
"I really appreciate what you said. It's not every day I meet someone who could care less about…all this." He gave a weak gesture around his room, the stuffed animals, the closet, and let his hand fall back down. "So who am I to want the opinion of someone normal when I'm not normal myself?" Did he…just contradict himself? He wasn't sure.
Quiet, he rubbed his arm, and looked to his bed. "…..you can sleep in my bed."
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 11:35 pm
"Just because people used to make fun of you for it doesn't mean they will now. I would hope they've grown up by this point," Paris said, feeling just the tiniest bit out of place. As comfortable as Ladon's room was, it wasn't what he was used to, Ladon wasn't the sort of person he was used to being around. He was definitely out of his element, but he was trying.
"Of course, there's always going to be people who don't like it," he added. "You can't please everyone. I don't bother to try. I please who I can, but most of all I please myself. If I'm happy and if I like what I do, then I'm okay. I think you worry about other people too much, or at least you worry about their opinions of you. You just make things harder for yourself that way, and you're going to make yourself miserable if you keep doing it. But you're right, you're not like me. We're completely different. I guess we both handle things in different ways."
It was nice to know that someone cared. He still didn't think Ladon understood him all that well. How could he when they'd only seen one another twice? But at least he was trying. Paris supposed that was more than he should expect. Ladon could have just left him out in the cold, decided he wasn't worth the effort. A lot of other people would have.
He smiled lightly again when Ladon offered him his bed, walking over to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Thanks," he said appreciatively, then glanced around in slight confusion. "But where are you going to sleep?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 8:37 am
"I guess you're right. I don't know." He really didn't know to think. He had created a shield for himself by looking just like everyone else. Not only did it keep anyone from having clear reason to target him, beat him up, but it also gave no one any clear reason to not approach him and maybe, just maybe, talk to him. Dressing up as he liked would not only attract attention, it would give immature people a reason to mess with him, and also keep people who cared about the opinion of their friends from approaching him. He found out his clothes he wore when he was younger more or less made him a leper, and he hated that feeling of isolation.
He just worried that if he dressed up with his other wardrobe now, he would destroy the image of normalcy he had created. True, he hadn't much of any friends as it was, aside from Tate and Andrea, who he barely knew and met by random chance. He wondered if he had been wearing the clothes he wanted, if they would have cared to ever meet him from the start. He wondered if he wore those clothes now, if they would continue to be his friend. Maybe he just wasn't as brave and confident as Paris was to just be alright with dressing and doing as he felt. Then again, he never really tied just doing what he felt that much. He was always too self-conscious.
It was clear from his expression that he was thinking hard by what Paris had said, and wondering about a lot of things, but he pulled the present back to focus and looked up. "Oh, I have a sleeping bag. I'll just sleep on the floor. You're the guest, so it's only natural that you take the bed." Always one for etiquette, he moved to his closet and pulled out a forest-green sleeping bag and undid the buckles to roll it out. While Paris was on the bed, he reached over and took Elliot off the bed, setting him down on the ground, along with a pillow.
With that, he grabbed some clothes for himself. Taking a t-shirt and sweatpants from his dresser, he headed to the bathroom. After cleaning up and getting dressed, he returned. The only thing left as his eye patch. Setting down, he rubbed his good eye before letting his hand set in his lap. "Thanks for…saying my room was nice..and everything else. You're a lot more open than I am." He could do with taking a page from the boy's book. If he had been Paris (scary thought, right?) and meeting someone like Ladon, he wondered if he would have been so accepting.
He had left a sort of sour tone in the room, and he wished to brush it away. Thinking, he looked up at the boy on his bed. "So why a blue rose?" He said, and pointed towards Paris' midsection. "The tattoo. Not that I was looking or anything! I just caught it real quick." He wasn't a peeper!
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 11:21 am
Paris frowned a little bit, not exactly put off by what Ladon was saying, he just didn't think Ladon was being all that fair to himself. Then again, Ladon had probably had plenty of experiences in the past to explain away his hesitance, things Paris hadn't been around to witness. If Paris had ever been in his place, he wondered if he would have understood it more. Not that he hadn't ever been made fun of or given a hard time, he'd just grown beyond the point of caring. Ladon didn't seem as if he were at the point where he could be that confident yet. Of course, if he never tried, he'd never have the chance to make it there.
He watched the other boy roll out his sleeping bag then leave the room to visit the bathroom to change. Paris continued to sit on the bad, quiet as he contemplated the situation. He was still sitting there, lost in thought, when Ladon returned. Paris wasn't often this subdued, but now that they were on the topic it was a bit difficult to get out of it. He didn't usually hang out with people like Ladon, at least not like this and for extended periods of time. The experience was giving him quite a bit to think about.
Paris blinked, torn away from his thoughts when Ladon spoke to him again, confused for a moment when he asked about the blue rose. It didn't take him long to figure out what he was talking about -- the small tattoo on his back. He must have seen it then. "Oh. Well, it's just... a while ago, or back in the Victorian era... people sort of said different flowers had different meanings. Blue roses are supposed to be mysterious... enchanting... They're supposed to be symbolic of searching for something that's unattainable. You know, something you want that you can't have... because blue roses don't exist in nature. And there's a lot of things that I want that I don't have... and I probably never will..."
It sounded kind of stupid explaining it to someone, but it had made sense to him at the time -- it had meant something when he'd decided to get it done. Normally people didn't ask about it, and when they did he didn't give them a real explanation. He didn't know why he was telling Ladon the truth, but it probably had something to do with Ladon being open and honest enough with him to show him his stuffed animals and his secret wardrobe. He felt it was only right to return the favor. Plus, he didn't think Ladon would laugh at him for being earnest and sentimental.
"It's nothing, really," he tried to play it off, making himself a little more comfortable on the bed. He slipped under the quilt, but remained sitting up for the time being. "You don't have to sleep on the floor," he said, attempting to change the subject. "I don't mind sharing your bed, unless you're worried your mom'll come in and freak out." On second thought, a suggestion like that would probably give Ladon cause to freak out again. "I won't do anything!" Paris quickly reassured him. "And I'll try to keep space between us! I swear! I'm not trying to be suggestive or anything. It's just that the floor probably isn't all that comfortable for you, right? And there's enough space up here. It's not like either one of us are very big guys. You probably think that's too much, though, don't you?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 12:53 pm
He didn't know what Paris wanted in life. The boy seemed content and happy doing what he wanted. Confident in his attire, happy with his day to day relationships and active sex life, having fun getting drunk and having parties, being social, and having little regards for anything else like settling down with one person. Still, if he was willing to tattoo a permanent image on his own body of this idea, he wondered what it was that Paris wanted in life, and if he also felt that he was that something that couldn't be attained by anyone. It was one of those deep thoughts you had to think about a while, and he was sure that Paris had given a lot of thought to it. The fact he researched flowers from the Victorian age was enough to suggest the boy was smarter than he let on.
"That's both a really sad and pretty image. Better than some random butterfly or ripped-of f saying." He thought about it a moment, and looked up again from his spot on the ground.
The more Paris settled down here, the more he seemed to mellow out, and even offered the bed with a full disclaimer that nothing naught would be done while he slept in the same bed. It was surprising that he actually considered this offer, as staying put would be the most modest and proper thing to do. Still, it was uncomfortable on the floor, and they were both fully dressed. The bed was big….and it might be insulting to downright refuse such a innocent offer. Paris didn't seem the type to mess around with someone who wasn't interested.
"If…you don't mind." He said, and slowly rose up. He turned on the side lamp on the nightstand and turned off the main light before heading to his bed. There was a strange awkwardness as he looked at the boy in his bed, a boy he only met once before now, and who he picked up from the street to bring here. Would he have done this a year ago? Probably not. What made him do so now?
His eyes glanced to Elliot and knew it was probably because, despite how different they were (and BOY were they different!), they at some level GOT each other to some extent. Slowly, he moved into the bed. He wondered if he would move in his sleep closer to Paris, but he assured himself that he wouldn't do that. He'd probably just keep to his side. Sadly, Ladon did not know he was a cuddling type of sleeper.
Laying down, he got ready to turn off the lamp, before pausing. "You know, I heard they started making blue roses after messing with genetics. It just goes to show you what patience and will power can do. Nothing in this day and age seems unattainable." He glanced at Paris, before turning and flipping the switch to the light and settling into bed.
"Good night, Paris." He whispered, and turned to his side.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 1:24 pm
There were a lot of things he wanted in life, not all of which he felt comfortable sharing with people. He was honest and extremely open about who he was and the things he did, but there were still things Paris kept to himself. His tattoo was really the only voice he had that he was more than he let on, that he had a deeper side he didn't often show to people. On some level Paris did think that he was one of those things that couldn't be attained -- because he was so difficult to understand, and because so few people tried.
He smiled when Ladon agreed to join him on the bed, scooting over to make room for him, and keeping enough space between them that he hoped the other boy wouldn't grow uncomfortable. Paris liked sharing a bed with people; he tended to sleep better with someone else close by than he did when he was alone. Of course, normally he was in someone else's bed because he'd slept with them, but the level of comfort he felt was still the same. But this, what he was doing with Ladon, was innocent. For once he could just appreciate someone's company without the implications associated with sex.
"Good night, Lady," he responded. He wasn't taunting or ridiculing him about the way he acted by using the nickname, but voiced it affectionately, almost sweetly.
Paris felt warm and strangely accepted with this boy who not too long ago had launched into a lecture about his behavior. Ladon's comment about blue roses gave him hope -- small as it may be at the current time -- and as he closed his eyes to go to sleep, Paris wondered to himself if somehow, through all of this, he'd managed to make his first friend. It was odd considering their vast dissimilarities, but he was almost relieved.
He could get used to this.
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