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 Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 7:17 pm
His brows lifted as Chris flopped over, half amused and half curious. He almost flinched at the curse, familiar as it was to him in tense confrontations like this. The impulse was even stronger at the mention of his father, but he held the reaction at bay and kept a smile on his face. He thought he was getting pretty good at pretending. It wasn’t always such a hard thing to do. Just keep calm, breathe, think of something happy, and find the right act to play.
“You don’t need to get me a treadmill,” Paris said on an amused laugh. Or at least he made it sound amused. “If I wanted to run on a treadmill, I’d go to a gym. I’d rather be outside when the weather’s nice. I’m inside enough as it is anyway.”
He took the opportunity of Chris lying down to crawl over and hover above him. He smiled, all bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and leaned down to steal a kiss while he could.
“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, not firm, but light and comforting. He didn’t want to give Chris any reason not to believe him. “I know what I’m doing.” He didn’t, sometimes. Not really. “Maybe I’ve made a few mistakes here and there, but it’s nothing serious. I know when to quit. I’m not stupid, Chris. Sometimes it just happens.”
Another lie. It didn’t just happen. The first few times, maybe. Last year, after awakening, when he’d tried to run away from what he was, maybe he’d gone too far without realizing it. But it was different now. He knew what he was doing. A lot of times he even did it on purpose, because it felt good to force everything out, to push his thoughts and feelings through and let them come in one mad rush before fading off to something more tolerable.
“If I want you to do anything, I want you to stop worrying. What are you so worried about, the running or the throwing up? Because I’ve heard enough of the ‘dancer throwing up’ crap from my mother. She’s watched me like a hawk while I eat since I was eleven. Don’t you start that, too. That’s not what this is about. This is just me trying to clear my head. I have a lot on my mind and I’m trying to deal with it as best as I can.”
He kept his voice slow, steady, calming, like Chris was the one in distress and Paris the one trying his best to comfort him, to settle the wild moods and raging emotions.
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 7:51 pm
Was he over reacting?? He didn't think he was. He thought that Paris was severely under-reacting. People didn't just run and throw up every day or every other day. Paris should know when his limit had been reached. And if that was the case that it was just something that happened every once in a while, why didn't he mention it to him?
"I don't think you're throwing up because you're worried about your figure, Paris," he grumbled, accepting the kiss, but not encouraging any more. This was just... too much for either of them.
"Just stop it, Paris... You know I'm not happy about this, so stop acting so amused. This is serious," he snapped, feeling his control slipping and quickly shut his mouth to keep himself from saying anything more that he would regret. He didn't want to get into a fight with Paris. He just wanted his boyfriend to be happy and healthy, and Chris was pretty sure he was faking it right now, but had no way to prove it.
"Stop acting like it's nothing to worry about. I care about you, Paris. Of course I'm going to worry," he said, reaching up to push his boyfriend away from him as he sat up once more. "You don't have to 'deal with it', Paris... and you know that..." Paris knew he had him, right...? He knew he could trust him to talk to and be there to help him, right...?
Chris could only hope.
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 8:12 pm
Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe he didn’t want to think about it when he didn’t have to. Maybe he didn’t want to worry about it, or have other people worry about it, or make it into some huge issue that would just exacerbate the problem and make things even worse. What would happen if he admitted to it? No one in their right mind would let him keep doing it—not Chris and certainly not his mother. And then what? He’d have to find some other way to deal with it. What if he couldn’t?
He honestly didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t want to seek someone out to talk to, not his boyfriend or his mother or any of his friends or some professional stranger, because it was much harder to do that than it was to just… let things play out on their own, deal with it himself until it was over and he was normal again.
Paris’s frown looked more like a pout as he was pushed away, sitting along the mattress with his legs curled beneath him and trying to think of something to say that would put Chris off the current conversation.
“I wish you wouldn’t act like I’m doing this to upset you,” he said. It was a struggle to keep from snapping, but after reminding himself that he didn’t want another fight he was able to bottle his temper up and set it aside. “And it’s not like it’s never happened before. I told you it was like this last year. It’s just kind of… a thing. It’s… how I work things out. Maybe it’s not the best way, but it’s my way and it worked before.”
Had it? Or had he stopped then because of Chris?
“Can’t you just give me some time?” he asked softly. “It hasn’t even been a month. You can’t expect me to go back to normal so quickly, Chris. It doesn’t work like that. I know me. I know what I need, and right now I need time alone in the mornings to clear my head. If you want to come with me one or two days out of the week then fine, but you can’t just hover around me like I’m going to break at any minute.”
He didn’t want to feel like that, fragile and unbalanced. It was bad enough as things stood already.
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 8:37 pm
"I'm not acting like you're doing it on purpose! I know you wouldn't do it to upset me. If anything you'd try and pretend it was nothing so I wouldn't be worried," he said, giving Paris a level look. He knew Paris well enough by now, or at least he hoped he did. What was upsetting him the most was how nonchalant Paris was acting about it.
Still... he couldn't deny him when he asked like that... How could he not give him time? He was right... it hadn't been a month, but that didn't mean him running so hard to make himself... purge of everything... was healthy.
"Paris..." It sounded like a plea, almost. Paris was one of his closet friends — boyfriend or not, he would still be important to him. But did Paris even know how much he meant to him? "I wish you would let me know you, too," he admitted, although he nodded in agreement at Paris's request for solitude. "That's fine... I don't want to hover... And if that's why you don't tell me these things, just let me know and I'll back off, okay?"
The last thing he wanted to do was back Paris into a corner and make him feel like he couldn't do anything but try to escape. He didn't know how it was like to lose someone he loved... Yes, he'd lost his grandmother a few years ago... and his dog a couple before that... but it wasn't the same as losing a parent, right...? He never thought he would be able to move on after Eleonora passed away, but here he was today... Again, he wan't about to bring that up, because he wasn't going to compare Paris's father to his dog, but... he was doing his best to sympathize.
"For whatever it's worth, you still have me," he said after a few moments, reaching out to gently brush some of Paris's bangs from his eyes. "I already told you I know you're strong, Paris... but don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it... And... I'll try to do the same..." He had, once... when he needed help home from the hospital... but other than that, he knew he was rather stubborn.
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 8:58 pm
“Of course I still have you,” Paris said, his expression soft and his voice quiet. “What, you think I forget that? I wouldn’t be able to deal with half as much as I have if I didn’t have you. I…”
He was glad he trailed off. He was glad he didn’t finished the sentence, because if he had it would have sounded exactly like “I love you,” and he still wasn’t ready to confess something like that, not like this, not with everything else going on, not when he didn’t even know if his feelings were reciprocated. He wanted them to be. Sometimes he thought they could be, hoped they could be. But then there were others times when all those mean, cynical feelings rose up again, and a little voice told him no one could ever feel so much for him.
There were always limits, it said. There were always barriers, and that was no different with he and Chris. He wanted Chris, needed Chris, and he knew Chris wanted and needed him, too, but it couldn’t be the same. It couldn’t be so perfect, because as much as he wanted one he didn’t know if he believed in happy endings.
Those were the things of ballets and movies and fairytales. It wasn’t real life. In real life, mother’s left and father’s died and the world grew worse and worse until it disintegrated into nothing.
“You mean everything to me,” was all Paris could manage to say in place of all the things he was too afraid to voice. He leaned in to Chris’s hand, caught his boyfriend’s wrist to press Chris’s palm to his cheek, raised his free hand to slide it around the back of Chris’s neck and dragged him closer, forehead to forehead. “Don’t forget that.”
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 9:16 pm
It was Chris's turn to laugh a soft, ironic laugh as he shook his head. "Of course not... If you forgot about me, I'd probably starve." It was supposed to be a joke of course. He didn't like how he was pushing Paris into talking about things he probably didn't want to talk about. He trusted Paris to know his limits, but... he also wanted him to know that he wasn't doing this thing by himself.
He sighed lightly as Paris pulled him closer, allowing him to press their foreheads together. It was a simple action, but it was comforting. It defined their relationship, he thought. Something so simple, warm, and comforting was exactly something he thought they both needed. He just had to keep his temper in check, and Paris needed to open up to him more... After that...
"I know," he said, lifting his free hand to place on top of Paris's head, gently brushing his hand though the golden strands of hair, before lowering it enough to rub at the back of Paris's neck, checking for tension that needed to be released from his muscles. "I need you, Paris," he began, his eyes closed but meaning every word. "I need to you to stay healthy and strong... You can't let this break you..."
Because he knew he might not be able to pick up the pieces if it went too far...
"You mean everything to me," he parroted back, wishing he was more eloquent with turning his feelings into words. He wondered if Paris thought it sounded cheap... him just repeating what he'd said... He didn't mean for it to sound like he was just trying to reassure him, but really meant it. He spent most of his time with Paris these days. He had a dependence on him that he'd never experienced with someone else before. "So... please don't feel like you have to do this alone."
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 9:43 pm
Paris swallowed thickly and closed his eyes to hold the emotions back. He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation in the first place. It just made him think, and thinking was bad, and he’d already done it that morning and he didn’t want to have to do it again, not now, because it was too much and he just wanted it to be over, and he hated that Chris was making him do this but he loved that he was there. He felt so conflicted about everything. Why couldn’t it be simple? Why couldn’t Chris just let it go?
“I’m not alone,” he agreed. “I know I’m not.”
He wanted to be sometimes, but not right now. The mornings, yes, it was his time to be by himself, but that’s not what the rest of the day was for. It wasn’t what this was for. Most of the day was for Chris, or his friends, or the city, or anyone who might need him. It was for fun and happiness and these moments of quiet in the apartment when the world was winding down and it was almost time for sleep. It was for life, not mourning, not misery, not sadness and loneliness and the aching hole in his heart that grew and grew and grew when he ran, before it finally released and shrank and let him live.
Paris closed the small amount of space between them and pressed his mouth to Chris’s again, but it was softer this time, full of comfort and love and not evasion or distraction. If there was any of that in it, it wasn’t to distract Chris. It was to distract himself. It was to remind himself that he had a home, that he had more than the pain, that he had so many reasons to live and so many reasons to keep fighting, and that he could never, ever give up, not for anything. Not for anyone.
He wouldn’t stop running. Not now. Maybe not next week, or next month. But at some point it wouldn’t be so necessary. It wouldn’t be so urgent. He’d be able to wake up and seize the day, and maybe he wouldn’t forget, but he would live and breathe and work through it. Eventually…
Breaking away, Paris opened his eyes to show another small, soft smile. “It’s still a little early,” he whispered, “and I want you. Will that persuade you now?”
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Posted: Wed May 02, 2012 10:11 pm
Maybe he was a jerk for brining up such topics of conversation, but he didn't want Paris to think that he needed to hide things from him... It hurt, and while he knew Paris trusted him, he couldn't help but feel as though he was doing something wrong when Paris wouldn't come to him with his problems.
Chris welcomed the kiss Paris gave him, glad it was slow and soft. His arms moved to slide around his boyfriend's back, pressing his fingers into the muscles once more. He could feel the tenseness and gently kneaded the knots out that he could. It would be better if Paris was laying down on the bed, but this was good enough for now...
He paused when Paris broke the kiss, pulling back enough to look at him, returning the smile. Paris... wasn't what he'd expected as someone he'd be in a relationship with, but they were good for each other. Or at least he felt they were. Despite their differences...
A little laugh escaped at Paris's question, a small grin finding its way on Chris's lips. "Since when did you have to persuade me?" he wondered out loud, shifting just enough to help Paris up to the middle of the bed so they could lay down, side by side.
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