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 Posted: Sat Jul 28, 2012 9:00 pm
Paris wasn’t all that bothered by the thought of Momma going through his things, considering the most inappropriate thing he had hidden amongst his clothes was a box of condoms. Seeing as Momma already knew he and Chris got down and dirty from time to time, he didn’t think it was such a terrible thing for her to have come across them while digging through his underwear drawer. He’d rather talk to her about his sex life than his Senshi life, in any case, and he was rather happy he kept his pen and phone with him at all times, either shoved beneath everything else in his purse or stowed away in one of the pockets of his dance bag.
He managed an appreciative smile and took the pajamas, robe, and slippers that were handed to him, and then watched as his mother, Momma, and Peter filed out of the room. Paris let out a sigh when it was only he and Chris again, turning to his boyfriend with a look of utter exhaustion. He grabbed Chris’s hand and let himself be helped from the bed. Initially, he felt a bit dizzy being completely upright again, but he steadied himself against the edge of the hospital bed, and after a moment the sensation faded away.
“Except I had a run in with myself instead of Stabs the Impaler,” he joked.
Paris supposed it said something that he could still joke about these things.
He considered the change of clothes he’d set on the bed, before forcing himself up onto his feet, briefly grabbing onto Chris’s shoulders for balance, and maneuvering around his boyfriend to take a couple of steps toward a door on the left-hand side of the room.
“Just give me a sec to expel all that fluid they pumped into me,” he said, not particularly caring that the hospital gown did a poor job of covering his backside.
He purposefully left the door part way open just so Chris couldn’t get it into his head that by “expel” he meant “vomit” instead of “pee.” He washed his hands quickly once his bladder was feeling better, shuffling his way back over to the bed and his stack of clothes, yanking on the worthless tie of the hospital gown as he went. He pulled it off and tossed it onto the bed once it hung completely open, then pulled on the underwear Momma had grabbed for him.
“Are you gonna come with me to Mom’s?” he asked—just to make sure. As nice as it would feel to rest in a place that wasn’t a hospital with people constantly coming in and out to check on him, he didn’t want to be there alone.
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Posted: Sat Jul 28, 2012 9:11 pm
He knew what he meant!! Chris had just nodded and stood to the side as Paris went to the bathroom, and then waited with his pajamas ready for him after he worked on getting his underwear on.
"Of course," he reassured him, although he made sure to glance up and look Paris in the eye to double check that he did want him to go to his mother's with him... "If you want, I mean," he added sheepishly, holding the pajama bottoms ready for Paris to step into, offering his own shoulders as support by kneeling down to do so.
It made him sad, that Paris had forced himself through so much and ended up in the hospital because of it... Chris felt like he should have done something more to... prevent it from happening... If he had been there for Paris instead of kicking him out of his apartment, would they even be here today?
Of course, there was no sense in trying to guess the future from mistakes of the past...
"It's gonna be okay, Paris," he promised, looking up at him from where he knelt in order to help however he could. "Whatever you need, just ask... I'm sorry I didn't offer as much help before, but... please believe me when I say I never wanted to see you like this..." He felt helpless in the wake of these events... It was no wonder why Paris was having doubts about moving back in with him. If he couldn't even take care of him then, what would that mean for later?
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2012 11:32 am
“Obviously you never wanted to see me like this,” Paris replied with a slow roll of his eye.
He didn’t know why Chris felt the need to repeat all this. It didn’t help at all, though maybe it made Chris feel better to offer himself up and give the sort of support Paris already figured he was going to get from him. In some ways it made Paris feel a little better too, when he made himself ignore the rest of the problem. Mostly it just reminded him that there was something wrong with him, that he’d been stupid and careless and dug himself into this all on his own.
As if he didn’t have enough reminders. As if he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror and see what he was doing to himself. As if he didn’t have a clue when people stared at him, carefully watching him with that look of concern that wouldn’t have been so annoying if he hadn’t known what they were thinking.
He didn’t want to think about any more than he had to. With Chris, he just wanted everything to feel normal.
Paris leaned back against the edge of the hospital bed as Chris helped him into his pajama bottoms, staring down at Chris until his boyfriend rose up again and Paris was forced to look back up at him. He liked the comfort, but at the same time… he’d rather pretend as if nothing was wrong in the first place.
Maybe that was his entire problem.
“Come to Mom’s with me,” he told him. If Chris was going to be wishy-washy about whether he wanted him there or not, Paris would just make it perfectly clear that he did. “You’ll probably have to bring Anna to your mom’s, though. Mom’s house isn’t exactly a good space for a dog, but… if you could stay for a couple of days… or however long Mom ends up wanting me there… I want you to. I just… I just want to lay around and sleep for a while, and I always sleep better when you’re there, and… everything’s just… better... when you’re around… even the bad things…”
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2012 7:10 pm
Chris sputtered lightly and sheepishly mumbled something about how he was just trying to reiterate the fact that he wanted to be a better person and that talking kept him from being too grumpy about everything. It wasn't his fault he was afraid of what could, or could have, happened to Paris. He'd only just come to terms with his feelings for him, so of course he was going to be a little more dedicated... Not that he didn't think he was already, but now that Paris really did need some looking after, he wanted him to know he was there for him.
It wasn't about reminding him of everything that was wrong with him, it was more of a promise to make things better.
"Yeah, I'll get her tonight... I should grab some clothes, too," he added, looking down at his boyfriend once he stood back up. He made an attempt to lean down to kiss him, but even with his head tilted up to look at him, the best he could manage was to get his forehead.
He chuckled softly, lifting his hands to gently rub at Paris's upper arms in what he hoped was a comforting act. "I'll stay with you for however long you want me to," he reassured him, brushing Paris's long hair from his shoulders. "Even if your mom tries to kick me out, I'll refuse to go unless you request it," he added, although Paris was well aware of his stubbornness at times.
"You're so short," he pointed out the obvious, "I wish I could kiss you better... Doesn't that hurt your neck? It hurts mine..." Especially when they were standing so close together... That's what happened when they were practically a full foot in height difference.
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2012 7:24 pm
“You pick the strangest moments to talk about the strangest things sometimes,” Paris pointed out, staring up a Chris… well… strangely.
He had no idea why that was or what it was even about. Maybe it was just Chris trying to distract him with inane conversation. He really didn’t know. If that was the case, it tended to work for at least a couple of seconds. It certainly threw him off for a bit, and he was left standing there trying to think of something else to say. Did he want to keep talking about things that didn’t matter, or did he want to get back to the actual topic of the conversation?
Most days he would really just rather not talk about depressing things. It made him feel uncomfortable, although it was admittedly less disconcerting when he was talking about it with Chris. Still, depressing things really weren’t his idea of a good conversation, and this definitely classified as one. He had just spent a few hours in the hospital after passing out at dance because he felt the need to run himself ragged in the hopes that it would help him get over the death of the father he hadn’t even come close to understanding until it was too late.
And now he was depressing himself again. Jesus Christ.
To make it up to himself, Paris threw his arms around Chris to show him the proper way to kiss him better, hoisting himself up—skinny he might be, but he was at least strong enough to manage that for the couple of seconds it took for Chris to get the hint to wrap his arms around him in support—and mashing their mouths together aggressively.
A hospital room was probably not the best place for this. Or maybe it was the perfect place for this. He really couldn’t decide.
“Anyway,” he said between a series of deliberately short kisses, “Mom’s not going to kick you out, so enough with this back and forth. You’re going to keep me company in my misery while I sleep off whatever drugs they’re giving me, and we’re going to laze around and watch Disney movies until I feel better.”
Truthfully, that probably wasn’t going to be enough to make him feel completely better, not after these long, terrible four months, but it would suffice for the weekend.
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2012 7:42 pm
Chris blinked curiously down at his boyfriend until Paris solved the problem he'd just pointed out. He kept his arms securely around Paris's waist even when they'd paused for moments of speech.
"I'll watch whatever you want to watch," he promised. "Whatever you want, just ask. Foot rubs, neck massages... You won't have to lift a finger as long as I'm around."
Yes, he was doing it partially to distract Paris from everything else going on in his life. He knew it was important to talk about the seriousness of what had happened, but there would be time for that, once they were out of the hospital and somewhere he would be able to have more to offer to Paris in terms of comfort and support. Lazing around all weekend at Paris's mother's house seemed like a much better location than that of a hospital room, especially when Paris probably had other memories coming to him more easily there.
"Let's get out of here, okay?" he said after one last kiss and then slowly lowered Paris back to the ground. "Will you be okay with your mom for a bit so I can get my things?" He was sure he would be, but he wanted to ask just in case. He wanted Paris's permission, and not to just assume that he would be fine. He could easily request his own mother to get some things for him if Paris would rather him stay.
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2012 8:02 pm
Paris didn’t think Chris should really need his permission to do things, nor did he really want him at his beck and call—well, not all the time. Sometimes it was nice, and it probably would be for the next few days, but he didn’t think he’d like to make it a full time thing. Independence was never something he’d had any problems with himself. He liked being able to take care of himself. He liked doing things on his own on occasion and not feeling like he needed someone there to hold his hand.
Not that he was doing a very good job of that at the moment, he realized. After all, he currently wasn’t in the best of health due to his need to handle things on his own and keep things to himself and not let anyone hold his hand in the process.
He should probably work on that.
Maybe he would, later.
For now, he turned back to the bed once he’d released his hold on his boyfriend and was lowered back to his feet, grabbing his pajama top to pull it on and do up the buttons of the short sleeved garment. He yanked the house-robe on over it, because even though it was hot as hell outside he’d been rather chilly since he’d been wheeled in. Then he shoved his feet into slippers and was done, turning back to Chris with a sigh.
“Yeah, I’ll go with Mom,” he said. “She’ll probably freak out if I don’t. And if she doesn’t do that she’ll keep giving me sad looks, and I think I’ve already done enough to make her feel pretty shitty, so I guess the least I can do is let her drive me to her house so she can fuss over me on her own for a little bit before you get there.”
Wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible now that he was done, Paris went over to one of the chairs the others had been using earlier, grabbing his dance bag which Ross had brought in for him before. He slung it over his shoulder before shuffling his way back over to Chris and ducking under one of his boyfriend’s arms to sidle close to his side. Being short was good for one thing—it meant he fit there rather well. It proved to be a good support to have as they began to make their way out, because even though he was feeling chatty enough, he was also quite tired and still battled the occasional bout of dizziness, likely due to the medication the doctors had given him upon his arrival.
He could feel it waning, could think a little more clearly and act a bit more like himself, but with the dissipating mental fog came a bit more clarity and focus, and he had little else to do but think about where he was and what he’d done to get there.
Paris spared another glance up at his boyfriend as they left the room together, and felt the need to mutter another, “I’m sorry…”
It wasn’t enough—he knew that. He didn’t think anything he could say would ever be enough. If he wanted to make anything better he had to actually try, he had to put the effort into changing his ways. For now he would do what he could, take a few days to rest, force down whatever pills they were giving him, eat whatever his mother made for him, hold to his appointments the following week and show that he was trying to improve.
After that… who knew?
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