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 Posted: Sat May 19, 2018 9:16 am
Princess. As if treating each of them like adults earned sarcasm. Rowan said nothing of it, however.
Soon, the inevitable happened — since he was small and slight, he was often pulled into laps, picked up, or carried around frequently. Manipulable bodies were their own drug, he realized. People wanted that power, that security, that control. And he let it happen — thin legs locked straight for a moment to pass over knees until Kit had him situated the way he wanted. Arms shifted over his body and he shuddered fleetingly. How long had it been now since he was touched with only good intentions in mind? A year?
"People don't like to ask questions," he volunteered lowly, "especially about personal losses or bad decisions. It's intrusive." And they might not like those stories. Hearing about aqua blue spirals is teenager's fare, isn't it. It's young adult novel content — little romances spoken between each other like overexcited promises. It's dreams-come-true before we learn that, to become proper literature, the dream has to die. But you never got that far. You never reached that rangy bitterness. I might've liked that about you if I stayed human. It's getting hard to tell anymore.
With the brush of lips, Rowan looked to his drink. He downed another swallow, paused, went for a second. He learned very quickly that a bottle was quite a lot to finish, even between two people — alcohol's taste was torrid and he disliked it on his tongue.
But when Kit began his lengthy explanation for his twin tattoos, Rowan was immediately taken to the numerous alternative medicine programs in which his mother indulged. Strangenesses filtered in the same language — how blue represents sadness and tragedy, how one can reclaim the word, how shapes hold their own special, secret meanings. It was horoscope language. It was California yoga class language. It was Nature Cure language. But Kit sold him nothing here — nothing but belief. Nothing but assurance that his romantic tattoo meant something more than a snap decision that decimated his job eligibility. The question was whether he really believed it. Or if it mattered enough to be a question.
Everyone dies, he thought as Kit tightened his grip. Rowan wondered if the gesture was supposed to tie him into the moment. If these arms were his secure binds to prevent his mind from wandering. Or if, somehow, his upper arm strength might stop death in its tracks.
"You want to be intrusive," Rowan observed. Three fingers still held the stem of his glass while his free hand drummed nails over Kit's forearm. "Fine. I lost a lot." Rowan closed his eyes. "Always something I didn't need."
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Posted: Sun May 20, 2018 12:19 pm
The brief shudder that rippled through the narrow young man perched on him resounded against Kit and evoked a blend of curiosity and concern. As he had heard no sound of protest nor felt no tension of resistance, he doubted his action had been found entirely repugnant by his companion. In fact, the accommodation of locking his legs as he'd been lifted hinted at the opposite. Had those tremors been indicative of pleasure, perhaps? Was it touch that this lithe body craved? But it gnawed at him that that hadn't been the case to begin with. "You're right." The two syllables were pressed up against Rowan's nape, heated by the breath with which they were exhaled. "Maybe that's why I feel like the world is such a lonely place. There are so many people all around, but the natural tendency is to keep ourselves closed off to one another and to resist knocking on or trying any doors. It's only polite." He bent his head and eyelashes swept across the skin at the base of the other's neck. "Maybe I'm wrong. But sometimes, I think it's nice to be a little intrusive. Or to be intruded upon." Even if I keep my door open, that doesn't guarantee anyone will be curious or feel safe enough to step through because they might feel they're intruding. And even if some might think I'm being rude, if I don't try doors, I'll never know which will open. Sometimes, we just have to take a chance.The delicate, repetitive rap of fingernails against his arm was reminiscent to Kit of a watch's constant docking of seconds and the patience that was so often docked with them. Rowan's curt response to his question supported that impression. "'Didn't need', huh?" Just because you can live without something doesn't mean it wasn't important to you. His head rose to once more hide another kiss in the thicket of the younger teen's jet black hair. "But that doesn't mean you don't miss them. The things you lost." His gaze cut to the bottle of sherry. "I'm sorry. I've asked a lot of you tonight, especially after you just had that visit with your friend. Thank you for indulging me." Despite his inhibitions' warnings, a hand drew up to weave its caressing fingers through Rowan's tresses. "We can leave any time you like. Or, if you prefer," he added, attempting to keep his reluctant tone impassive, "I can stay and let you go."
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Posted: Thu May 24, 2018 2:44 pm
Rowan sighed through his nose, his gaze trailing after the big screen. Oversized people making oversized gesticulations at oversized houses. Speech cut stardom short and packaged into neat, digestible colloquialisms. Smart wittiness composed too perfectly to fit the real world. Heat rolled over his skin like wine over his tongue. Rowan closed his eyes momentarily.
'It's only polite.' So you do want to intrude.
Kit confirmed as much in a breath afterward. A breath still spent against his neck. Rowan matched that warmth with a dose of sherry, measured for its sharp tartness, then swallowed. That heat inexorably spread. "Pity to find only skeletons and special effects." He felt another light brush — one that conjured gooseflesh. He spoke again, his voice quiet but firm. "You won't find those doors open, Kit Paine. Not with me. The price to unlock them is high — higher than dinner and a movie. Higher than sherry. Higher than your intimacies." However tempting they are to people with more honesty.
Rowan pressed the heel of his hand to his cheek for a second. He felt another wash of feeling from fingers sifting his hair, finding all the careless knots from stress and fatigue. He felt warm — like his facade melted away and left Faustite in the theatre. But his nails still looked pale, and he still sat unhindered on Kit's lap. He considered Kit's offer while drinking down the last of the sherry in his glass. One glass, maybe a hundred milliliters, and another three remained in the bottle. Did he want more? He already felt warm and relaxed from the first, and thought of Aelius's mistakes felt curiously distant.
It was time to make his own, he supposed. "Leave with me," he cast over his shoulder. His gaze caught the collar of Kit's shirt. He paused for a time before he slipped off, retired the wine glass, and beckoned as he excused himself.
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Posted: Thu May 31, 2018 8:54 pm
Kit exhaled a soft sigh of his own. 'Only' skeletons and special effects? You're belittling the whole worlds found behind those doors, Rowan. There are reasons why those skeletons and special effects exist. And there are reasons why they're kept behind doors instead of put up for all the world to see. Surely you must know this. The tiny bumps that began to texture Rowan's hide drew his lips and enticed him to hold the other boy closer. Or you wouldn't keep your own doors so strongly secured.A warning was given for the high cost of what Kit sought, but it became a motivator rather than a deterrent. The implication that it's possible for me to unlock those doors at all is all I need to know. No price is too high to instill worth in someone. To make sure they know they're wanted and cared about and loved, even if just by a stranger. Do you believe it's possible to be truly loved by someone who doesn't know you, Rowan Cameron? Kit watched him tit his head back slowly as he finished the last of the beverage in his glass. ...Why is it that to me, you smell of being starved for affection? A wry smile drew back his lips. Maybe that's just my own scent I'm getting a whiff of.While memorizing the weight of Rowan balanced on his lap, he considered the other people whose doors he had tried in the past. A few had stuck, but most had been startlingly simple to open. In his experience, that majority had not been accustomed enough to even having their doors tried to think of locking them. Thus, lonely hearts seemed more than happy to welcome in the rare visitor who knocked. This one was obviously different. While he didn't seem lonely, exactly, Kit seriously doubted Rowan kept his doors shut for reasons of high occupancy, either. One could have assumed that he kept them shut tight to keep everyone out, but the suggestion that there was a price to open them gave him hope. Yes, one could build walls to hold others at bay, but there was also the possibility that walls could have been built to see who would take the time and effort required to tear them down. The way Kit saw it, Rowan was giving him more than just a chance to open his doors. He was offering him the opportunity to prove just how high a price he was willing to pay to do so; to prove how far he was willing to go to explore the more private, lesser-known aspects of someone he had just met. I'll show you the real value of what's behind those doors - including the skeletons and special effects you seem so quick to write off.Rowan's request had him tugging out his wallet and hoping he had the right amount of cash on hand while he felt the young man's eyes resting on his collar. It almost made him self-conscious as Kit set down the money for their meal and did what he could to tidy up their area before his attention was attracted by the other teen making his departure. Kit followed him in sight until he witnessed the beckoning finger and stood to follow in body. It reeled him in like an invisible thread connected them, tugging him forward without relenting. We might not even have been talking about the same doors, the tattooed teen realized, glancing back once more at the ever-changing projection, the dimly-lit theater, and the many couples utilizing one, the other, or themselves to temporarily escape the reality they lived in. I guess there's only one way to find out.
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