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 Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 6:57 pm
He didn't blame Paris for being selfish. He'd had it rough growing up. Not only was he different than the other kids around him, but his mother had left (he could only imagine what rumors jerk kids could make up about that if they'd known), and his father had recently passed, and now his mother was back, but there was going to be another kid...
Chris was at least lucky he had some stability in his life. Sure, he'd moved around until Peter, but it wasn't horrible. He still had both of his parents and his siblings, as annoying as Peter can get.
"Yeah, she does get lonely," he admitted with a small shrug, feeling guilty for moving out of the house, but he couldn't stay there his entire life. She knew that as well and had to accept that. "Dad's probably going to be asked to retire soon, anyway... unless he gets permission to stay a couple more years. As much as he loves the Navy, they only allow people to be in service until a certain age. After that he'll be forced to retire... Or maybe he'll figure out something else to do. Dad's the type to get too restless sitting around, doing nothing for too long," he said with a shrug. He knew his father didn't mean to leave his wife alone on purpose, and he knew his mom knew how much her husband loved his job... so there had to be some kind of give and take there.
"Besides," he said with a small grin in Paris's direction. "You're like the daughter mom always wanted."
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 7:13 pm
Paris snorted and laughed and then splashed Chris with some of the bath water.
“Oh, ha ha, you’re so funny,” he said. “You’re just jealous that Momma absolutely adores me. She took one look at me that first day I went to your house and decided I was hers forever.”
He would be lying if he said he didn’t love it. It was a relief, too, to still have something of a family when his own family wasn’t exactly whole anymore—if it had ever really been whole to begin with. He’d spent the last week hanging out with Peter and snuggling with Momma, letting her spoil him with cake and cookies he usually had to make for himself. She’d taken him in immediately and without complaint. When she wasn’t busy volunteering or planning charity events or meeting with her book club, she was keeping him occupied and trying to cheer him up—which did wonders for keeping him distracted, if nothing else.
Settling back into the water, Paris continued to smile at Chris as he joked, “But then I’m pretty amazing, so it’s only natural that she’d fall for me.”
He wished he felt like that was true. He used to. It used to be that he’d never had to question himself about anything, or maybe he’d just been really good at ignoring it. But now…
Well, things were a little different.
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 7:36 pm
Chris laughed as well, trying to duck away from the attack, but it wasn't as if he was not already wet. He reached into the tub to gently splash water Paris's way, but it was hardly meant to hit him. It fell short, and Chris was left shaking the bubbles off his hand, and ended up just drying it off on the towel around his waist.
He continued to smile as Paris joked about himself and how his mother adored him, but it soon faded as he realized Paris was... really only joking...
"You are..." he agreed, no longer smiling, but looking at Paris with a kind of resigned sadness, knowing that he had probably been part of the cause to breaking bits of Paris's confidence away. "I think you're plenty amazing..."
He didn't mean to pull the conversation off of its light-hearted track, but he wanted Paris to know how he felt about him. Just because he said he wanted space didn't mean he thought any less about his boyfriend.
"She knows you're special," he said, trying to glance out the window, but it was covered in steam. His mother knew Paris was special to him, and that was another reason why she was so keen on making sure he was taken care of. As bad as it sounded, it was nice to know that he had a safe place to keep Paris until he'd made up his mind about what the hell he wanted. It was selfish and a bit possessive, but... it also meant he wouldn't have to worry as much. His mother would take better care of Paris than he ever could.
"I'm just decently good at baseball and math," he said with a shrug, picking at a stray piece of fuzz from his towel, "What you do... trying to get through life on your own merit, rather than being coddled all your life... that's special."
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 7:59 pm
“You’re more than just decently good,” Paris corrected him.
He knew how Chris liked to downplay the things he was successful at. Sometimes it was funny, because when Chris was actually playing baseball or doing something math related it was obvious he liked the attention his talents got him. It was only ever in situations like this that Chris minimized it, always for the sake of making someone else feel better. In a way it was sweet, but Paris didn’t always like it if it meant Chris had to put himself down and feel guilty for being fortunate.
“You could go pro if you wanted. And Dad…” he trailed off, paused for just a moment, let the sadness wash through him before finishing the thought. “Dad thought you were good. He said it’d be a waste if you didn’t get drafted.”
The memory made Paris’s chest ache. He shifted in place and quickly tried to move the conversation along. “The only thing I’m really good at is dancing,” he countered, “and I’ll probably only ever get so far. I’m too short for a male lead and it’s not easy getting people to take me seriously enough for a female one. Talent can only do so much. Aesthetics and perception have a lot to do with it, too.”
He worked hard and did his best and sometimes he got lucky. He’d been given a chance late last year and he’d made the most of it, but he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Most days I’m okay with it. I mean, it is what it is. I knew that getting into it, and I’ve done reasonably well all things considered. But some days I just… I don’t feel like I used to,” he admitted. “I don’t feel amazing… or beautiful… or anything...”
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 8:19 pm
"I couldn't leave the city..." he said, shaking his head with a kind of resignation that made it seem as though he'd decided what he wanted to do with his life long ago. "I would love to go pro, if they'd have me. But I couldn't leave... not for extended periods of time. Not when there's still a war going on." Maybe... maybe if they somehow found a way to form some kind of treaty with each side... If something happened to get the fighting to stop within the next few years... then he would consider it, but... until then, he was making the most of his life, centering it around Destiny City and his duty as a knight.
He did pause for a moment, backtracking a bit. "Your dad said that...?" he wondered out loud, staring at Paris. He didn't even think Paris's father spoke about him at all. He'd seen him at some of his games, of course, but... he didn't think he and Paris actually talked about him and his career options.
"You're pretty good at cooking, too," he pointed out. "And organizing things... It sounds kind of silly, but there are professional organizers." Okay, that probably didn't help much, but he was trying to keep Paris talking. He hadn't heard his boyfriend talk about how he felt in... quite some time.
He hated that Paris didn't feel his best. Chris felt that it was part of his responsibility to make sure Paris felt amazing and beautiful, but to know that he didn't... it made him sad.
"You're still young," he said with a lopsided, sympathetic smile. "It's been a rough few months... but things will get better. I still think you're beautiful... Just... just because I want some space... doesn't mean I don't still think you're the same amazing, talented, confident Paris I've been blessed to know," he told him, before laughing softly, awkwardly. "I guess that sounds strange though... Sorry, I'm not really good at this... but you already knew that... I'm not really good with my words..." He was a math major, not communications or english major.
Even still, he hoped he got his point across, even though he felt rather awkward about his word choice. Maybe Paris could forgive him for at least trying...?
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 8:37 pm
He made the attempt to smile—if only to show Chris that he appreciated the effort despite the fact that their relationships was at a low point—but none of it made him feel better. There was a brief sense of relief. That Chris could still look at him and see what he’d always seen, what Paris had always wanted other people to see when they looked at him, made him wonder if everything was really as hopeless as it seemed.
Or maybe the fact that Chris didn’t see him any differently just meant he’d never been good enough.
“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so sweet,” Paris said, staring at Chris with a frown that might have looked annoyed if it didn’t look so sad. “I wouldn’t like you so much if you were a total d**k. Instead you just look like a snob when really you’re adorably awkward and too nice for your own good.”
It wasn’t exactly an “I love you,” but it was about as much as he felt comfortable expressing his feelings now that he knew saying it made Chris uncomfortable.
With a sigh, Paris moved through the water as the bubbles grew thinner and began to disappearing, leaning against the side of the tub where Chris sat and lowering his head to rest on Chris’s thigh. He wanted it to be okay. He wanted the nearness to be welcome instead of oppressive. A lot of times he just wanted to be close, to be touched and held and comforted and made to feel like nothing else in the world mattered, like it wasn’t even important because there was so much more waiting for him.
“Tell me if I’m bothering you,” he said—just in case.
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 8:57 pm
Chris snorted lightly, humorlessly. If he was really so sweet then he wouldn't have to see Paris so sad, would he? There was a lot more that he could be doing... that he should be doing to ensure that Paris was happy and healthy and not... not as miserable as he seemed to be these days. He blamed himself for some of it. If not for him, then Paris would still be with him in his apartment, and they would be spending their days like they always did.
But that wasn't exactly healthy, either... and until they both figured out what was going on, his mother had a better chance at keeping Paris healthy and happy than he did.
He watched as Paris shifted closer to him, and he moved his arm so he'd be able lay against him, not minding the proximity at all. Chris lowered his hand down to gently rub at Paris's back, fingers kneading into the tense muscles of his shoulders, and massaging the back of his neck. He missed being able to just... lay together and talk. Being in the same room for the week was something similar to what they were used to. He figured he could always sleep on the couch in the room, but the bed was so large that it wouldn't really matter if they shared it.
"You're not bothering me," he reassured him, his one hand still against Paris's back and shoulders as he used his other to brush at the hair across Paris's face. He'd rub at his head as he liked to do, but he didn't want to mess up how he'd piled it all up and got it to stay in place. Instead he entertained himself with softly running his fingers along Paris's face — across the bridge of his nose, along his jaw, the edge of his ear, his round cheeks, and the curve of his lips. Paris was beautiful to him. He'd always thought so, and knew he always would. But it wasn't just his physical qualities that made him beautiful.
"What do you mean I look like a snob?" he teased, brushing the stray pieces of bangs off Paris's forehead.
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Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2012 1:45 pm
“It might be the clothes,” Paris teased in return. “Polos and khakis are snob clothes, and whenever I try to get you to wear jeans you get this look on your face like you’re too good for them.”
That wasn’t exactly the truth—it was more about comfort than arrogance—but it was close enough that Paris felt it was alright to point out. He was just joking around anyway. He didn’t mean anything mean by it. Most of Chris’s behavior seemed cute to him anyway, even the things that might have annoyed him in other people.
“Or maybe it’s the way you always fuss about how you look,” he continued, closing his eyes while Chris’s fingers caressed his face. Paris nuzzled his cheek against Chris’s thigh and let himself forget that things might not be this way for much longer.
Unless he found some way to convince Chris that this was good, that this was right—them being together. He didn’t know how he was supposed to, or if it was even possible, but he didn’t intend to give up so long as there were still moments like this. It was worth too much to him for him to just give up hope completely.
Was he being unfair? Was he expecting too much? Was he too dependent?
Paris didn’t think so. Not really, though he supposed denial could be playing a role.
“You always have to have your hair just right,” he observed, relaxing under Chris’s hands. “And you get so prissy when you haven’t shaved. Sometimes you care more about the way you look than you try to pretend you do, and then other times you don’t seem to care at all. The only time you ever look dirty or messy is when you’re in your uniform playing ball, and you look so comfortable like that, so it just makes it seem like… all the other times… you’re dressing to impress other people, like you wouldn’t care if they didn’t care, but because you think they do you have to put in all the effort or else you won’t feel confident about it.”
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Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2012 7:34 pm
Had Paris been looking, Chris would have made a face at his comments about how he didn't like jeans or how he fussed about his clothes or needing to be clean shaven and have his hair just right... But since there was no point, he let himself sigh lightly instead. It wasn't like he hated the way he looked... he just... never felt comfortable in the clothes he wore. Except his uniform. That, he could wear and not care about what others thought (except for maybe whether or not he should keep his socks pulled up or not).
He kept his hand along Paris's face and back, palm pressing gently against his forehead and over his eyes to feel the brush of eyelashes against his hand. Paris looked so peaceful with his eyes closed. As though the rest of the world no longer mattered.
"I'm not that bad, am I?" he mumbled, a bit sheepish that Paris would notice things like that. How was it that Paris knew more about Chris than Chris knew about himself? Sure, he knew what he did was because he wanted to impress others, but... he'd never actually thought of it as his boyfriend had said it. He didn't think he pretended not to care... but did he...? Probably. Especially when people commented on how nice he looked or whatever.
His leg was falling asleep from how he'd sat down... It tingled uncomfortably, but Chris didn't dare move. Not when Paris looked so content and relaxed. He hadn't seen him this way in a while. This was okay... this was what he missed about their relationship. When he could forget that Paris so obviously cared about him... loved him, even... He wasn't afraid of what might happen later on when they were like this, absorbed in the moment. He would willingly stay like this for as long as he could... even if Paris fell asleep (although he'd worry about him turning into a prune or catching a cold from being in the water for too long... Hell, he didn't even care that his hair was drying awkwardly and he would probably have to get it wet again before going out the next morning!
Maybe he was a little obsessed with his looks...
"Well you... look good all the time, so... sorry that some of us have to try a little harder," he teased lightly, his fingers brushing at the strands of golden hair.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2012 4:13 pm
Paris tried to appreciate the compliment as he would have before their recent break, but it was hard to when he didn’t always think looking good was worth much. It clearly wasn’t doing anything to encourage more affection from Chris, so to Paris it seemed pretty worthless.
“Mmm, but it’s funny because you’re always more confident the less clothes you’re wearing,” he said, preferring not to talk about himself. “Like if you’re at the pool or out on the beach, so it’s like you feel good about your body but not so much the things that cover it.”
It was all the little things he’d notice about Chris that had led Paris to love him, not just his kindness and courage and the faith he placed him in. Paris liked watching him, figuring things out, discovering other little pieces of who Chris was that he’d never taken the time to notice before. Spending so much time together, dating and living together and relying on one another in battle and on patrol… it made it so easy to learn and observe and see so many things to be fond of.
Even the bad things were endearing in their own ways. Sometimes the temper made things difficult because Paris wasn’t the type to just back down and take it, and that usually led to some pretty intense arguments, but they always puttered out. When it was over, it never seemed as bad as it did when it was actually happening.
“But you’ve worked hard to be as good as you are,” Paris allowed. “With baseball, I mean. So… taking pride in the way you look, in how much you’ve grown… it’s not a bad thing. If I was as tall and as fit as you, I’d feel pretty damned good about myself, too.”
There might have been another implication laced through his comment, namely that Paris didn’t feel all that good about himself nowadays, but he wasn’t in the mood to elaborate on it.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2012 7:43 pm
Chris stared down at Paris as he continued to rest against the edge of the bath and against his thigh, not really sure what to think about Paris's shared observations about him.
It was... strange... hearing someone talk about him in such a way that he seemed to know so much about him, and yet... did he know all that about Paris...? He wondered if he could ever know so much about him, even though they'd been together for the good part of a year. Did that made him a bad boyfriend? Or maybe he just didn't pay attention to things the way Paris did... Either way, it didn't make him feel all that great about himself.
Paris was right, though. He did feel more confident with the less clothes he wore. Or rather... he felt confident now, even though he was just in a towel. He was perfectly fine when they were on the beach, or when he lounged about his apartment with just his boxers on. It was... sweet... although that probably wasn't the best word to describe it. It was touching to know that Paris would take that much time to get to know him so well.
"You're too kind to me," he mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish now that he'd had all these nice things said to him or pointed out about him. Paris always had a soft heart — he was guarded, sure... but give him a chance and Paris made a strong ally and an invaluable friend. Paris was the kind of person to take pieces of someone's personality and magnify them... and Chris knew he was damned lucky that he'd taken a fondness to his positive qualities over his flaws.
"You've worked hard too, Paris," he pointed out, trying to be gentle with the compliment. He could tell that there was something going on... that maybe Paris wasn't feeling that great about himself. "I've seen you dance... you've worked your a** off for that. I might not understand it, but... I know you love it, and I know you're good at it... You have every reason to feel pretty damned good about yourself, too..."
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Posted: Thu Jun 07, 2012 10:41 am
If Chris’s comments were supposed to be motivational they weren’t working as he’d intended. Paris let him believe that they did, smiled up at him and hoped it looked real, like he was pleased, but inside he felt quite different. Sometimes he didn’t even know why. He understood where some of the sadness came from in regards to his father, but everything else… why should something like that have any bearing on how he felt about his dancing or any other part of his life?
There were days when he thought something was very wrong, when it seemed worse than just a general sadness, but he wasn’t the type to express those sorts of concerns with people. He didn’t want anyone to worry. He didn’t want anyone to intrude. He didn’t want to make a big deal of it. He’d get over it, wouldn’t he? It wouldn’t last forever…
“You only say that because you like what dancing does for my legs,” Paris joked. He figured it was better to keep things happy than to risk revealing something he didn’t want to, and he knew all the ways in which to distract Chris by now.
Paris turned in the tub so his back was against the side of it and the back of his head rested on Chris’s thigh where his cheek had once been. Then he teasingly lifted one of his legs straight out of the water to make his point, planting his other foot firmly on the bottom of the tub so he wouldn’t slip further into the water.
“Still a twelve out of ten?” he asked, grinning in genuine amusement.
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Posted: Thu Jun 07, 2012 11:46 pm
Well, the intention had been to cheer Paris up at least somewhat, but since Chris had no idea how Paris was really feeling, he made no further comments. Had he known, though... he might have tried much harder to get his boyfriend to somehow realize his own value. How he'd do that, he had no idea... but he'd find a way.
"I do not say that just because of your legs!" Chris denied as Paris turned in the tub, not knowing if he should look at first, but glancing over regardless.
He'd always liked legs ever since he'd matured enough to realize their attractive quality. Strong and lengthy, muscular too. He wasn't sure why he liked them so much, really. He'd never spent too much time worry about chests, much less any particular size. It was probably for that reason that he got over the fact that Paris was a boy and he was still attracted to him. It probably had something to do with the strength in legs that he looked for. He realized he could be called shallow for enjoying the physical features of people to such a degree, but... at least there were other barriers, such as sexuality, that didn't stop him from getting to know someone.
It surprised him, sometimes.
Pink quickly pooled in his cheeks as he struggled to respond, embarrassed not from the show of Paris's bare leg, but from feeling rather awkward and self conscious about his reaction. It was bad enough that Paris was naked in a tub of quickly disappearing bubbles, but... he had to flash his legs around like it was no one's business?
"O-of course," he stammered lamely and shifted awkwardly against the edge of the tub, but not because his leg was asleep. He wished he'd grabbed more than just a towel to cover himself with.
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Posted: Fri Jun 08, 2012 5:44 pm
Chris’s reaction was exactly what Paris had been aiming for.
He tried to effect an innocent smile, as if he had no idea what something so simple as one bared leg did to his boyfriends ability to speak or think or do anything except sit there with his tongue practically on the floor. It was sort of sweet in a way. It was also so very simple, this little game he played to get the sort of attention he wanted, to distract Chris from the more serious things plaguing his life and focus on something much more enticing.
He had plenty of practice. Seduction was a game Paris knew well, one he’d learned perhaps a bit too early in life, but one he wasn’t against using if the situation called for it. He likely could have turned the conversation by other means and been just as successful in keeping Chris from catering to his concern, but if he were to be honest with himself he would admit that he’d taken to miss this part of their relationship, too.
It was one of the many things he wasn’t yet ready to give up on, because with Chris it had always meant so much more than it ever had with anyone else.
Slowly he lowered his leg back down and smiled an inviting smile as he said, “This is usually the part where you’d kiss me.”
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Posted: Mon Jun 11, 2012 7:12 pm
He released a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding as Paris's leg lowered back into the water. Was this usually when he'd kiss him? Yes, well... that might be true, but he wondered if Paris was willing to follow through on what a simple kiss might lead to. Their relationship had gone from being quite content to rather complicated... and he didn't want to end up hurting Paris in the transition.
Where did they actually stand as a couple? Were they still going to be as familiar with one another as before, or should he completely separate their lives now that he was insistant on being a more 'independent' individual...?
Would Paris be okay...? Or would Chris be dragging him down even further into the strange moods he'd been having recently...?
But... he knew what he wanted... He knew he wanted to still be a big part in Paris's life. To offer him comfort and companionship and everything that he'd given him before. He knew it was selfish, he knew he might just... end up hurting his boyfriend even more... but as he stared down at him, seeing the smile on his face and the glimmer in his eyes, Chris could no longer resist leaning down, over the edge of the tub, in order to press a slow, languid kiss against Paris's lips.
He pulled back just as lowly, staring into the blue-green hue of his boyfriend's eyes, feeling even less like he would be able to resist keeping their relationship as it had been. No, he wasn't sure what it meant, but... at the moment, he knew what he wanted... and hoped Paris wanted it, too. And in a voice almost as soft as a whisper, he asked, "Mind if I join you...?"
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