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 Posted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 9:41 am
First Visit
Prompt Response The sun was setting as Adam left his last class. The professor had kept them over time, which wouldn't be a problem were it not for the fact that he knew what Drake's reaction would be. He had dared to hope for a night without screaming and broken glass, but it wasn't to be. If there was any hope that his boyfriend might not be angry, it was lost when it became apparent that Drake wasn't answering his cell phone. His shoulders slumped under the weight of the textbooks in his bag, or at least he told himself it was textbooks and not exhausted depression that so weighed him down. He wanted to curl up under one of the huge sheltering trees that dotted campus and fall asleep, wanted to do anything but make the long walk home, a good forty-five minutes on foot, and the buses were done running for the night. Drake hadn't wanted to live in the dorms, was unhappy even with their current apartment, felt it was too close to campus. But what was he supposed to do? Rich family or no, Mother and Father were only so willing to help, and his job at the library didn't allow for anything extravagant. He did what he could of course. Poor Drake, he was used to so much better than what Adam could provide for him. Adam could read the hurt in the redhead's eyes when he didn't have enough money for a night out, when some new shiny gadget didn't fit into the month's budget and they had to wait. Drake didn't like to wait. And Adam didn't like to see him suffer. The route home was a familiar enough, walked often enough that he needn't pay much attention to his path. He could let his mind wander, watch as his shadow merged into the evening dimness and disappeared. The image struck him, and he briefly imagined the moment as something to be painted. A tall figure standing with his back to the viewer, showing only neat blond hair, white shirt and slacks, a worn backpack. The shadows of trees, of stop signs and streetlights, merging with his own, so even it had more company than he did. He smiled at the idea, because he hadn't painted for years. Hadn't painted since Dusk ran away, and there'd been no reason left not to listen to his parents and enroll in medical school. Dusk. No more than the thought of her name and he could picture her, his fragile sister, with her cynical smiles and tired eyes. He didn't want to think about it. Not that he blamed her for running; they might as well have grown up in different families, with how it had been. But that didn't change the fact that she had left, left even him, and with no word for years she might very well be as dead as his parents said she was. And he wasn't going to think about it. He thought of Drake instead, because he had to think of something, and felt himself slowing down, his feet dragging. A car honked in annoyance. He quickened his pace again, knowing the middle of the street wasn't exactly the place for lazy contemplation. He couldn't go home empty handed, he realized. If he brought a present, well, it might help. Flowers wouldn't be enough though, he'd brought flowers last time, and he knew better than to attempt the same trick twice. Of course, he'd still bring them, but there'd have to be something else to it. Sweets? They'd gone out to ice-cream just a week ago, and he had watched as Drake's green eyes danced with real pleasure, had laughingly allowed him to steal half of his sundae. Sweets would be just the thing, and if he remembered correctly, he'd seen a bakery when he'd been out shopping. It wasn't on the route home exactly, but he'd been meaning to try it out. Turning left at the next street, instead of right as he usually did, he stopped in at the flower store and did his best to ignore the girl's knowing frown while he selected a collection of tiger lilies and orchids. "Again?" She rung him up quickly, wrapping the flowers in green paper with an efficiency he envied. "Pardon?" Best, he decided, to pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. If he studied her hands, he couldn't see her rolling her eyes. "Whatever." She shook her head, her long silver earrings jingling softly at the movement, and the sound was as soothing as she was unsettling. "Good luck." "Have a nice evening," he replied. He pushed open the door (more jingling, then), and stepped back out into the crisp autumn air. It was easy, finding the shop from there. It helped that it was at the top of the hill, so he could simply orient himself toward 'up' and follow the slow curve of the road. He knew he should be rushing, knew that every minute meant a increasingly dramatic scene awaited him, but the evening air was sweet and cool, so he let himself take his time. Besides, he was going to fix it. He was going to go to the bakery, buy something as extravagant and expensive as the flowers he carried, and he was going to make it all be okay again. If only everything else was as easy to fix as an angry boyfriend. But he'd already decided not to think about that. You didn't get anywhere, thinking about things. There. Moon Cakes Bakery. The glow from the windows brought his shadow back, casting it out behind him as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 9:14 am
Lovebirds? (Adam Recieves the Music Box) Adam The sweet had worked. Acutally, it'd worked brilliantly well, enough so that Drake had announced himself smitten with the bakery that had produced the treat, and demanded a chance to visit it himself that very next weekend. Adam had refrained from mentioning exactly how short on money they were, deciding that his boyfriend's smile was more important than little things like electricity bills. He'd figure something out. It was Saturday afternoon, and the sun was too hot, despite the season. People were shedding coats and glancing in surprise at the sun. Adam loved it, the feel of heat on the back of his neck, the brilliant blue of the sky. Drake was less impressed, hanging heavily on Adam's arm, and asking repeatedly how much further they'd have to walk. "Why on a hill?" Drake's voice, when he was happy, could be sweet and soft. But at times like this, it had a sharp irritable edge to it, cutting the listener. "Perhaps it's better for baking." Adam replied absently, looping his arm around the red head's waist as they neared their destination. "That's stupid. Why would it be better for baking?" Drake, nearly half a foot shorter than Adam, glared upward, lips twisting downward. "You're right, of course." Adam replied, glad that the door was now directly in front of them. "Maybe they'll move." But he remembered the man talking about never selling the place last time he'd been in, and knew he was lying. Pushing the door open, he allowed Drake to step inside in front of him, and took a moment to breath in the comforting smell of the place. There was something so refreshing about the old fashioned feel to it. Audley Although a small jingle signaled the couple's arrival, Audley was drowning in a good novel and as such did not hear it. He leaned against the counter with his back to the shop door as the small space drank in the sunlight that slid through the large windows. Everything about the shop was warm in the afternoon sun, and later in the day the caramel colored walls would probably cause it to glow the color also. His look was one of perfect contentment. Unfortunately it was not the look of a very dedicated business owner. Books tended to do that to him. Fortunately it wasn't too long until Audley was able to feel that odd "you're not alone" sensation that one sometimes gets when another person is in the room, and when he realized the two had been standing there he practically threw the book down, apologizing quite urgently for his inattentiveness. "It is good to see you back," he said gratefully to the one with the sad smile, or otherwise known as Adam. He turned to his acquaintance also and offered a smile and pleasant greeting. The problem with Audley was - and it wasn't a very serious problem anyways - that as a straight man he had absolutely no gaydar, to be blunt about it. Should a gay man happen to walk into the same space as him and any number of other people, Audley would always be the last to know. Not his fault, really. He was just born that way. Adam Adam allowed the door to swing gently shut, standing behind Drake as the bright eyed man took in the shop. He was smiling, the sweet, almost childish smile that had drawn Adam to him in the first place. "Oh, it's so sweet!" He announced, bouncing toward the counter, completely oblivious to the reading Audley or any other patrons that he might be disturbing. "I love it Adam. Oh why didn't you take me here before." There wasn't really a question there, so Adam didn't answer, simply following the more animated man, wearing that fixed vacent smile of his. He let himself place a hand on Drake's shoulder, only to get it shrugged off with a glare and a 'not in public look'. They had shared the same strict sort of upbringing, but somehow he had not picked up Drake's distaste for PDAs. At least, Drake was in a good mood, the mistake clearly forgotten as soon as Adam took a step backwards. Forgotten, until Audley spoke. Adam saw the fire spark in those green eyes, and while it made him wince he still couldn't help but admire the fierce passion of it. "Why dear," And his voice was cloyingly sweet, "I didn't realize that you were such a valued customer." He turned that look on Audley, still smiling, sweetly, perfectly. One might note that a smile is really no more than the baring of one's teeth, a threat with most species. "I simply love your little bakery. I just begged Adam to take me here. He's such a good boyfriend." Adam was... trying very hard not to back away from the sugary venom in Drake's words. At least they were in public. At least they both knew how to play nice. It would be okay. It would be fine. And if one could almost see Adam shrinking in place, well, maybe they wouldn't say anything. "I was, hoping to try another scone?" He managed to say, and even he couldn't keep smiling, the expression fading into stoic blankness. His tone though, was questioning, almost lost. Audley Audley had the distinct impression that Drake wanted to castrate him. He wasn't even sure why. It took him all the way up until the word 'boyfriend' for him to figure it out. Audley was always the last to know. Oh. Oh. "Err- well-" he stuttered desperately in an attempt to fix the awkward situation. He wished Laurence had been there. He could've played the 'I have a boyfriend and I promise I'm not hitting on yours, honestly please don't kill me' card. Not that Laurence would ever stand for it. "That is, with such a small business as this every customer is vital... I mean, uh, not that they're not anyways." Oh, yes, he was a real smooth talker. The sudden change in expression and tone startled Audley back into stability, though. The sweetness made him unsure of how to navigate the situation. If only people were honest all the time, they'd be easier to deal with. After a few moments of blinking Audley finally managed to reply with an equally blank (although perhaps a little more on the perplexed side of blank) expression "What flavor?" Annette, in the meanwhile, had wandered out in all her puffy pink glory and after taking one look at the situation immediately turned around and headed straight back the way she came. Adam As Audley spoke, Drake seemed to calm, that wicked smile of his relaxing into something more like a pout. Adam watched him, noting each tiny change of expression, so that he'd be prepared for what happened when they got home. It'd be tears, then, if Drake was pouting. Tears and accusations, which would be a change from screaming and accusations. Poor Drake. It was just so hard to reassure him, and he never knew what to say. Drake was fragile. Most people just didn't understand that. Adam tried. He really tried. But it was still hard to watch Drake standing there snarling at the poor man. And the man wasn't setting of any 'pings' in Adam's head, so it really didn't seem to be worth the effort. The pink girl distracted him for a moment, and he could only sympathize with her quick retreat. Was she the owner's sister, perhaps? They didn't exactly look alike, but there was more to blood than surface appearances. He and-- "No, I think I want carrot cake." Drake's voice still had a razors edge; it neatly cut Adam away from more dangerous thoughts. There was that to say for Drake's mercurial moods they kept him distracted. "Tell him I want carrot cake." Which meant, of course, that he now wasn't speaking to the poor bakery owner. Forcing himself not to sigh, Adam fixed a smile in place. He wanted, really wanted to say he was sorry for Drake's attitude. But he wasn't feeling quite that masochistic. He hoped the guilt in his eyes was enough. "He'll have a slice of carrot cake. And if I could please have a cranberry orange scone?" "To go," Drake interjected. "To go." And Adam couldn't quite keep the disappointment out of his voice, no matter how well he kept that smile in place. Audley Adam's boyfriend being decidedly scary, Audley thought it would just be best to get the whole thing over with and maybe - hopefully - he'd never return again. He almost forgot why he was so happy to have seen Adam in the first place. Which then made the situation even more complicated, since now he knew he could not simply hand off the gift to him as he had hopped. "Righto," he said with a slight nod, and turned to retrieve and bag the sweets. He placed each in a seperate envelope of white paper and with his back turned to the two men he slipped in with Adam's scone a small bag tied shut with a bow, coutesy of Annette's need to make everything cuter. He placed both together in a larger bag, then, and set it on the counter. "$5.25, please." He returned the look of guilt with a gaze that would suggest a "sucks to be you" sentiment, although in reality he felt a bit more sympathetic than that. Adam Adam nodded, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his black leather wallet. Like his clothes, it was obvious high quaility, a fact made slightly confusing by the fact that there was very little money in it. Well... such was life. Sometimes the appearance of the thing was more important than the reality. Or so he'd heard. Pulling out a five and a quarter, he held the money out toward Audley, giving the tea things behind the counter a reluctant look as he did so. He'd planned to spend the afternoon here. He'd thought it would be nice. Drake was sighing. Next time, if he found the time for a next time, he'd come alone. It was too much of an ordeal for his boyfriend, that much was clear. Hopefully Drake wouldn't forbid him to come to the bakery all together. He didn't like lying to the red head, and knew perfectly well that he wasn't going to give up the little slice of peace he'd found. "Thank you." Speaking to say something, even if that something wasn't quite as satisfactory as 'I'm Sorry'.
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Posted: Mon Nov 27, 2006 2:26 pm
The guest room was Adam's space. It was where he studied, did homework, and slept when Drake was particularly upset. Drake never came in, and neither of them talked about why. Suffice to say, the pictures were staying up, and when she came home (someday, she'd come home), she'd know that she had a place here, with him.
And Drake left the guest room alone. It was 'creepy'.
So it was in the guest room that Adam hid the box. Not even hid, simply set on the desk, next to the computer, where he could see it when he typed. He still didn't know what to make of the music box, but he knew enough to know that Drake was not to find out about it.
Had the red head been right? Was the sweet bakery owner actually interested in him? But Adam couldn't believe it. Couldn't picture anyone being interested in him, really, not even Drake, even with all the evidence to the contrary. Still, the gift was unsettling. He wasn't so rude as to take it back, but he hadn't returned to the bakery since.
He didn't want to take it back. Didn't want to find out that he wasn't supposed to have it. It played the most lovely melody. Sweet lonely music that cleared his head somehow. And it smelled sweet, of raspberries and something...
Best just to keep it. Surely no one would find out.
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Posted: Mon Nov 27, 2006 2:27 pm
Aaron had intended to get some homework done. Indeed, he had been fully dedicated to, if not particularly excited by, the idea of doing homework up to and until he entered the guest room, where his desk room. At which point, he abruptly forgot all his good intentions and stood staring.
He stood staring for a good minute before he had the presence of mind to close the door and step into the room. This did not actually solve the problem at hand, but at least it allowed him to deal with it privately.
Someone must have broken in. It was the only rational explination. Now, what sort of rational would lead someone to break in, steal his music box, and replace it with a trunk of simular design, he wasn't sure. But that was, none the less, what had happened. What else could have possibly happened?
Music box gone. Trunk, there.
Adam approached it cautiously, distrustfully. The window of this room was always left unlocked. It would not be difficult to break in. Well, there'd be some climbing involved, and that'd be difficult with a trunk, but other than that...
He jerked on the lid. No luck. It wouldn't budge.
So, someone had stolen his music box and left a locked trunk?
Not knowing what else to do, Adam did his homework.
But he missed the peace of sad gentle music.
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Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 8:44 pm
Small Packages Days later and Adam had almost grown used to the trunk, which now sat at the floor beside his desk. He tried to ignore it as much as possible, tried to pretend there had always been a trunk, and not a music box. He hadn't returned to the bakery. The fact that the man who ran it might be a stalker who... replaced music boxes with trunks didn't make much sense. Bu Adam didn't know what else to think. Finals were nearing, and he spent much of his time in the guest bedroom, studying and writing papers. He was in the room when the trunk lid was pushed open, and it was that quiet thunk of sound that had him looking over to see a young boy calmly step out of a container that seemed to small for him to have occupied. He had calm eyes of washed out lilac, and white hair with faded red streaks running through it. His expression was serious, his outfit outlandish, and he was watching Adam with a look that was entirely to expectant. Adam was at a loss. This had never happened before. It was also, as he was sure that his science teacher would explain, not happening right now. It was quite impossible that the little boy had been living in an openable trunk for over a week. The boy was still frowning. "Hello." Adam managed, because he didn't know what else to say. Had he snapped? Fallen asleep? "'lo." The boy replied, fixing Adam with a gaze that made him uncomfortable. "You look ti'ed." "I'm fine," he replied, automatically. "Where did you come from?" "The box." "Oh." A pause. "And before that." "I dunno." "Oh." "Who's that?" The boy's serious gaze turned to the walls, and he pointed toward a charcoal sketch that Adam had once done of Dusk. "My sister." "She looks sad." The small boy paused. "You look sad too." "I'm not." The correction was made carefully, and Adam managed a smile. "What am I to do with you?" "Oh, you have ta keep me." He sounded as if it should be obvious. "I'm yours, after all."
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 9:46 am
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