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 Posted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 10:46 pm
It had been several days since he fell into the water during his fight with Scylla, and he was still sick as a dog. He missed school and while his mother went to work, he slept on the couch, watching TV and drinking anything from hot tea, to juice, to just plain water. What was the worst was that he was not a TV person. He wasn't even an internet person, and while he was sick, he could not move about and do anything. It was too cold outside, the snow building up each hour by the corner of the windows, and remaindering him that he was stuck inside with nothing to do.
Most of his time was spent going in and out of sleep, face half buried in a pillow and flipping through channels. History, Discovery, Food Network, and even news. They were all equally boring and all mind numbing. He tried reading, but he gave up and went back to wishing he could sleep all day just so that he wouldn't be awake and bored.
As it was, Paris had text him in the middle of the day. The boy was at school, hopefully, and bored. When he asked what he was doing, he wrote back a very simple 'sick' as a response. Seeing as Paris was no longer in Meadowview, the boy had no idea that he had been out of school for the past few days, fighting off one hell of a cold.
When he didn't get another response, he sniffled, pulled out another wad of Kneelex for the three boxes scattered about the living room and curled back in under the covers.
When he woke, he wondered what time it was, before e noticed the doorbell ringing. Looking at the direction of the door, he flopped his head against the couch and listened. They'd get tired and go away. He wasn't in the mood for people wanting donations for their Christmas charity or kids wanting to shovel their walk for a couple bucks.
But the ringing continued, and he huffed. "Really?" He croaked, his voice a little off. He grabbed his blanket, wrapping it around him before he walked to the door, using a crumpled wad of Kleenex to wipe his nose before he opened the door. Whoever this was, he hoped they got sick. Who just kept ringing?!
When he jerked he door open, expecting to shout at someone (He wasn't in the mood!), he looked surprised to see Paris there. He wondered if school was out and just how long he'd been sleeping, and he wondered if he got a text – but he would have heard it since his cell phone was under his pillow.
The boy was bundled for the weather, his hand poised to ring the doorbell again. "What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice breaking at the end. While Paris looked warm and glowing in the winter sun, dusted with fresh falling snow, Ladon was a gloomy mess. His already messy hair was all over the place, his green eyes were wet (he no longer had his eye patch now), and he lacked the color in his face aside from a slightly more red nose. He was dressed in a pair of snow-flake pajamas, more because they could keep him warm and were soft, and the quilt from his bed that was thrown over his head and wrapped around him.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 2:29 pm
Ladon really thought too highly of him. At school? Please. He'd ditched school earlier that morning after an especially boring lecture by his history teacher and had instead spent his time elsewhere, namely hiding out in the room of another boy. He'd been in the middle of naughty things when he'd had the idea to text Ladon, because those naughty things had also been quite boring and he'd needed something to distract himself from his partner's horrible performance. Once he'd found out Ladon was sick, he'd suffered through the rest of the trying ordeal, then immediately left to shower and begin making his way over.
He stood in Ladon's doorway with a cheerful smile on his face, attempting to ignore the fact that it was snowing and cold and just all-around unpleasant outside as he carried a couple of plastic bags filled with random food and beverage items in one of his mitten-covered hands. "Hi, Lady!" he greeted him brightly, waiting for him to move out of the way so he could step inside. "You look like crap. You must be feeling pretty bad, huh?"
He set the bags down for a moment to take off his coat, scarf, mittens, hat, and snow boots. Beneath his winter gear he had on another pair of tight, low-cut jeans paired with a simple red long-sleeved shirt, going more for comfort and functionality today than dressing for show. If he was going to be spending his time with a sick person, then there was no point wearing a cute top and sexy shoes.
"Lucky for you, I have nothing better to do today, so I came over. You don't mind, right?" he asked, picking up the bags again and moving passed Ladon to head for the kitchen. "Have you eaten anything today? I brought stuff with me. I can make you some soup. And not that horrible canned stuffed either. You like chicken noodle soup, don't you? Or I can make it with rice if you'd prefer that instead of noddles."
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 2:42 pm
Ladon frowned when Paris said he looked like crap. Of course he looked like crap. He was sick and he hadn't expected any company. If it wasn't for the fact he was cold, he'd probably just be wearing PJ bottoms and a layer of Vicks on his chest. As it was, he was glad he decided on a shirt, and curled the blanket closer around him as the cold air rushed into the house. "Yeah…I'm pretty bad off." He said, not even hiding the fact that he felt terrible. He could go for being a strong trooper any other day, but around Paris and the comfort of his own home, he would mope.
Gladly shutting the door after Paris, he turned about and headed after the boy into the kitchen – slowly. His blanket dragged behind him as he watched the blonde sweep into his house, look around, and then spot the kitchen. Moving in, Paris was already dumping the bags on the kitchen counter, and Ladon watched him before feeling too faint to stand up any longer and pulled up a stool up to the center island.
Seeing Paris here, he assumed that Hillworth got a holiday or a snow day or sorts, and was secretly glad he was over. He'd been bored on his own, and the idea of someone else cooking was loads better than trying to find something he could eat without having to make it. Usually he made all his own meals, but today, well, he didn't even want to open a cabinet. "I…ate some crackers." He said, trying to recall what he bothered to eat today. "…and a handful of pretzels." Both crackers and pretzels were on the kitchen table next to a few stray Kleenexes, a trash can on the ground for his tissues, and his Algebra book. (He attended to do homework and gave up.)
Watching Paris, he crossed his arms on the kitchen island counter and set his head on it, eyes half-open as he watched. "You didn't have to do this." He said, a disclaimer that he would have been fine on his own, not that he didn't greatly appreciate all of this. He hadn't really envisioned Paris being the cooking type. More like the type to persuaded someone else to cook for him, or buy him something to eat. Tilting his head to one side, he watched his friend move about his kitchen as he looked for pots and kitchen utensils. "..noodles would be nice."
He tightened the blanket around him a bit more. "Do you always cook for your sick friends?" He would have asked if he cooked at home for his family, but he knew not to bring that topic up.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 3:03 pm
Paris began digging through the bags as soon as he'd set them down on the counter, pulling out a package of chicken so that he could start preparing it. He didn't bother asking where all the pots and pans were, just looked around and opened cabinets until he found what he was searching for, grabbing a frying pan to stick it on the stove.
"Of course I don't always cook for my friends. I don't have any, remember?" he said, not seeming all that bothered by it as he found a cutting board and knife and opened the chicken to begin cutting it into decent sized chunks. "But when I'm home I have to fend for myself 'cause Dad doesn't cook, so I usually make dinner for the both of us. Not that he ever shows his appreciation but, you know, at least he's not always living off of pizza and TV dinners."
He figured Ladon was surprised that he could actually cook. Most people didn't realize he had that particular skill, but it was something he enjoyed once he actually got into it. He didn't do it all the time considering he was at school for most of the year, but it was nice to do whenever he had the opportunity. Like dancing, cooking gave him something to focus on, and he wasn't all that bad at it either.
Paris put the chicken into the pan with a little bit of olive oil once he was done cutting it, quickly washing his hands before touching anything else. He turned the burner on medium high, and then dug through the bags some more, taking out some carrots to peel and cut up into circled bits.
"Do you want anything to drink while you wait? It should only take thirty minutes at the most, but I brought orange juice, and apple juice if you don't like orange juice. Unless you don't like either, 'cause I don't have anything else. Either way, you should make sure you stay hydrated."
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 3:34 pm
Ladon smiled, forgoing feeling bad for Paris for not having friends and going straight to feeling special. "I feel privileged than." He said, a sort of loopy, small smile on his face as he rested his head on his crossed arms, his eyes going closed a moment. It seemed he might have fallen asleep, before he said a simple. "Thank you for cooking for me." Knowing that his father didn't appreciate Paris' hard work, he felt it was deserved to at least made it verbally know to Paris that he felt glad for having a cook in the house, and special for being one of the few people that Paris bothered cooking for. True, he guessed that if Paris had more friends that he would cook for them, but he liked to pretend he was an exception. It wasn’t every day that he was the best friend (be default) of anyone.
Again, he seemed to lapse into silence, eyes closed and breathing slowly, before he sniffled, whipped his nose with a crinkled Kleenez, and opened his eyes. "Can I have apple juice…please?" He asked, voice muffled by his stuffy nose. "I've been drinking OJ all day and I just can't drink anymore." It also didn't help that it must made his throat feel more thick and apple juice just seemed more clear, more refreshing in the long run.
He kept his eyes open to watch Paris move about, and he grinned a little – the sort of sick, loopy smile people got when they were half asleep and a little hot in the head. "You're like a little wife." He said, moving one finger out to point at the blonde. "…coming here to cook for me. That's really cute." He could see Paris in a little apron, and then he guessed the boy would be the type to just wear an apron and nothing else.
It was good his face was already pink else he would have to explain his embarrassment.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 7:15 pm
Paris laughed lightly at Ladon's comment, taking out the apple juice he'd bought and searching around for where Ladon and his mom kept the glasses. Once he found one, he filled it up a decent way and set it in front of his friend, then put the opened bottle of apple juice into the refrigerator.
"Being a wife would imply that I have a husband, which would imply marriage, which probably isn't going to happen because those sorts of things always end badly," he said, speaking from his own experience -- or, rather, that of his parents. There was peace and affection for a time, but then there was shouting and screaming and arguing and a crying child, and things just quickly spiraled out of control until one person walked out and the other was left drowning his sorrows in alcohol.
"Unless you're offering, because then I might be able to make an exception," he joked with a smile, going back to peeling and cutting carrots. "I'll warn you now, though, I expect a nice ring. Not some measly chip of a rock. I want a good one. And a platinum band. And a big house with a nice kitchen. You know, all stainless steel appliances and such. With a breakfast nook. And maybe a couple of cats."
He almost snorted at the image that came to mind. It was pretty ridiculous to think of himself being so domestic. Sure, he liked to cook, and he cleaned up the house a lot, too, but he didn't think he had the temperament to stay home cooking and cleaning all the time. Well, he could break that up with a little shopping here and there, but even then... He wasn't really the stay-at-home type. He needed a little excitement every once in a while, a little pleasure, a little trouble.
Paris found a pot to cook everything in once the chicken had turned white instead of raw pink, pouring in the chicken broth, letting the carrots grow tender, making sure Ladon wasn't too uncomfortable sitting at the counter island like that. "You can go lay down if you want," he offered. "I'll just bring it out to you when I'm done."
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 7:33 pm
He thought of the lovely painting of a nice, expensive house. Cozy, but high tech, but while Paris added stainless steal appliances, he decided he'd at least add wooden cabinets, soft, inviting dinning set, and warm sunshine from large windows. Warm colors so that even in winter he wouldn't feel the gloom of the season. It wasn't the first time he envisioned what his dream house would be, especially the dream kitchen. He watched enough Food Network and occasionally a few house remodeling shows that made him perk up and say I want that in my dream home. He just never envisioned his dream home with a person, because that meant he had to envision what his dream person would be, and he always strayed from addressing those issues.
However, the one thing he didn't see in the future was the pets Paris seemed to be fond of. "I can't marry you. I'm allergic to cats." He pointed out, as if the single thing keeping them from eloping right now was a matter of pet preference. He pried his eyes open again (they had fallen closed again) and retained that sort of dreamy, small smile. "You actually dream of your future home? I didn't see you as the type. So who else is in this perfect home of yours?" It seemed Ladon had ignored the advice to go to the couch. He'd been laying enough all day that staying up to watch Paris was something he wanted to do. He'd more or less be straining himself to talk across the house out of the need to actually speak with another living being.
"And what sort of cats? Did you already have them named in your head?" he reached out, taking the cup of juice in both hands and starting to drink. His throat was always dry and often scratchy that the cold juice made him feel better. Setting it down, he went back to folding his arms under his head to watch the blonde cook for him. "If you think of what type of ring you want, did you already pick out who would live with you?"Of course Ladon already knew that Paris had no faith in love, so the idea of even entertaining the idea of marriage was something he would call out. "…because marriage involves love and settling down. I thought you didn't believe in that." He looked at Paris with a bit more of a ohhh, you really DO believe in love sort of gaze.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 7:50 pm
Every once in a while Paris would stir the pot, but for the most part the soup could now cook on its own. He leaned back against the counter to look at Ladon, still joking as he said, "What, so because I like cats and you're allergic to them you won't marry me? I feel so loved..."
He didn't really have any faith in love. He'd never seen it work. His parents definitely weren't the best example of what love was supposed to be like, and the world was full of relationship horror stories that he did his best to avoid. His life was screwed up enough as it was. He didn't want to worry about ruining it any further by adding someone else into the equation and having that blow up and crash down around him. It was easier just to go about things the way he did now.
"And I don't really dream of it, just think about it from time to time. Of course, I probably won't make enough money on my own to buy a nice house, and since I'll be single for the rest of my life there'd be no point in having more than an apartment. I guess sometimes it's just nice to think about getting away from home, you know, having a nicer place with nicer things, not just some dump on the poor side of town."
Wasn't that what everyone wanted? To do better than their parents? Considering the sort of people his parents were, Paris didn't think he'd have to try very hard to do better. His father could probably do better himself, he just didn't care enough to try anymore.
"I want a fluffy cat, like that one from that movie with the talking pets who're lost and they're trying to get back home. I think the type's a Himalayan. Don't know what I'd name it. If you weren't allergic and we had this house together, I'd probably name it Rome. Get it? Paris, London, Rome." He shot Ladon a teasing smile. "And then if we had a second one we could name it Berlin or something... or Vienna."
Regardless of where he ended up, love would not enter into the equation. He was as capable of love as anyone else, but he stayed as far away from it as he could. It was safer that way, less hurtful. "If I ended up with anyone, it'd be a roommate or something, someone to help pay the bills, but that's about it. Unless we had a friends-with-benefits thing going on. Or you could save me and whisk me away. I don't really need cats. I could always get more fish."
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 8:18 pm
He actually liked that idea. He had been thinking about a place of his own more and more often, and the more he thought about it, the more appealing it became. He didn't know how it happened, but the tolerance he had for his home was quickly vanishing, and his mother's constant worry for him and self-guilt were only pushing him away. His ideas for the future, his plans a year ago, were becoming less appealing and meaningless to the point he didn't want to think about them. They held no value to him which was strange for him. He had always been driven by a goal, and his right-way sort of attitude had always held education, living at home, moving out, and naturally some job or college as the correct way to go about his life. To what goal and what job, he didn't know. He entertained the idea of being a tailor or joining the armed forces, but as he became more focused on saving Earth and the Negaverse, those seemed pointless endeavors. Why go to college or bother with the army when he could be helping the world now as he had been doing?
Of course Paris knew nothing of this. The boy with no goals, as Paris was, had dreams but no hope in ever meeting them. Paris expected nothing in life, as far as Ladon could tell, and was happy just to get what he could at his own demanded price of entertainment and pleasure.
"Homeward Bound. The movie. It was Homeward Bound….and if we had a house, I could just put in some filters around and you'd have to brush the cat and clean it to make sure I didn't sneeze to death." He said, thinking about their pretend home and their pretend cat Rome..or Vienna…or Berlin.
"Why not a dog and call it Austria?" He said, tossing out ideas. "I always wanted a pet. I never had one before aside from a goldfish." And that really wasn’t much of a pet. It died on him after a few weeks, and even then, he'd been devastated that his first and only pet had died…even when he couldn't do anything with it, like pet it or play catch.
"I"ve been thinking of moving out. I don't like my house. It's too quiet here. My entire family used to live here before my parents broke up, and now it's just use…really just me. I could get my own place and it wouldn’t make much of a difference around here." He would still spend most of his time cooking for himself and being on his own for most of the day, and his mother would go on with her work. Seeing as he was 17, it was less than a year before he could legally leave….though that really wasn't stopping him. ".....but no fish. Fish are awful pets."
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 8:56 pm
"But I have a fish!" Paris said defensively, pouting lightly. "And I love my fish. He's beautiful." Of course, it didn't really do much, but still... it was better company than having none at all. He liked making faces at him through the bowl when he was supposed to make doing school work. It was a wonderful distraction. "And dogs are too messy. They slobber everywhere and chew on things. I wouldn't want it to chew up all my shoes... or mess with my panties... What if it ruined my favorite pair?"
Talk about tragic.
"If we did have a dog, it'd have to be a small one. Like a lap dog. I think Pomeranians are cute. I like fluffy animals. They're so much more cuddly." He'd just have to make sure to brush it, like Ladon said, or else the hair would get everywhere.
Paris blinked in surprise when Ladon revealed that he thought of leaving home. It wasn't so much that he didn't think Ladon could get by on his own, but that he didn't see much of a reason for him to leave. Sure, his house was quiet, but it'd be just as quiet if he was on his own, and at least at home with his mother he had the potential for company. On the one hand, Paris could understand -- he didn't always like being at home either, and he absolutely hated his dorm. On the other hand, being out on his own in his own place sounded lonely. After a while he'd feel too isolated and probably wander back home.
"I'd come visit you," he decided. "And I'd decorate your place for you if you wanted, and cook and bake. As much as I say it won't happen, I'd probably make a surprisingly good housewife." He paused to smile, stepping more toward the island counter to prop his elbows on it and cradle his face between his hands, looking at Ladon teasingly. "But at some point you'll have someone else to do those sorts of things for you. A girlfriend or something..."
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 9:36 pm
By now, he had moved his hands away and was resting his cheek against the counter, letting the cold seek into his warm cheek and cooling him off. He was still warm to the touch, and while he was cold, hugging the blanket around him, he was also warm. It was as strange series of cold and hot flashes that happened ever now and then, and he was sure his fever would really spike at some point and then break. Right now was the slow, agonizing climb up to that point. It was going to get worse before it got better. Right now, he just wished it'd hurry up.
"Nah. Small dogs are no good for cuddling. Get a big dog. A really big dog so you could play fetch and wrap your arms around him. One that is worth getting. Small dogs are all yippy." Not that he'd complain if he was given a small dog, but if he had his choice, he'd want a big one. He'd been dreaming about a dog since he was a kid, and never once had him. If someone plopped a Pomeranian in his lap, he'd be more than happy.
As his mind drifted on the borders of a dreamland of a nice home with lots of dogs and cats he could tolerate, he opened his eyes to Paris smiling as him, head in his hands and already inviting himself over to his non-existent apartment. "You can decorate, but no pink." He pointed out, having already see Paris' underwear more than he cared to and noticing the trend in pink he seemed to favor. As he was just about to settle back down again for another happy, insane apartment world dream, he tensed at the insinuation of having a girlfriend, or being on the way to getting one.
Ugh. Relationship talk. He pulled that steering wheel of conversation as far left as he could from that point. He NEVER liked talking about this sort of stuff. "…….something…….right." He said, keeping his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to look at Paris. Like anyone in their right mind would date him.
His mind wandered to Tate a moment, but it only hurt him. The girl was much older than he was, out of school, and distracted with other plans for life. They barely talked anymore, and she never once saw him as anything. She liked Wolframite, and even then, they didn't have much of anything. She would never like him. No one ever did. In the end, he was even finding it hard to keep up the act with Wolframite. Life was becoming more dangerous and the more he talked with her, the more she was in danger. What relationship could they ever have in the end anyways. They never even held hands and could never go on a date, and she'd only like the idea of Wolframite anyways. Some mysterious guy she didn't know, and the Ladon she did know wasn't something that caught her eye.
No. He couldn't see anyone living with him.
"How long till the soup is done?"
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 9:51 pm
Paris rolled his eyes when he was denied the use of pink, but conceded graciously enough. "Fine. Blue or something. Or green. Something manly," he said, then added sarcastically, "manly things for my manly Lady."
He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of a big dog. They seemed to require a lot more care and attention. He'd hate having to take it for a walk during the winter, and unless they had some sort of a yard there wouldn't be much room for it to play.
He frowned when Ladon didn't really respond to his comment about him getting a girlfriend, feeling like there was something he wasn't talking about. He wanted to ask, but didn't know if he'd be touching too close to a subject Ladon just didn't want to discuss. He seemed to have a lot of those. Paris was always curious, always tempted to question him, but he didn't think he'd get a very good answer, and then he'd just feel frustrated and sad, and things might end up getting awkward.
So instead he sighed and tried to ignore it. "Soup should be ready in just a little bit. Did you want to eat it in here? Or go sit on the couch? Or up to your room...?"
He went over to the soup to stir it some more, peering into the pot to make sure it was coming along okay. When he'd allowed it to cook long enough, he searched around for some bowls and took out two, ladling the soup into them. He could use something to eat as well, and he'd made plenty for the both of them.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 10:34 pm
It didn't go unnoticed that Paris didn’t push, and Ladon wondered if he just thought Ladon was too tired, that his act worked, or just let it go. Seeing as his friend loved talking about his many adventures so openly and without prompting, he was sure he'd want to hear some from his side. Sadly, he had nothing. No adventures. No lovers on the side. Not one at all. Not even a story that a stranger might have accidently touched his hand on the bus. His love life was dead. No, it was never alive. He had a mild crush that he was soon seeing was single sided and would never get off the ground. It was slowly dying in his chest, and he was slowly digesting the pain and delusion he had in it ever being anything. With Paris having lots of attention, having gone 'all the way' many a time, he just felt smaller, and a bit depressed in comparison. The boy was younger than he was and had so much more, but that single obstacle of it having to be love was keeping Ladon from just messing around. It was one thing he just couldn't ignore. It had to be love for him to go that far. He wasn't comfortable enough with himself, with his body, with anyone, for it to just be a fling.
He wasn't sure Paris could understand that.
Taking his glass, he drank some more, glad that he looked miserable from being sick to excuse any sad thoughts he had. "The couch…if that is okay. It's warmer there, and we can sit and watch TV if you want to watch TV …or just have background noise. I never liked a quiet house." The TV was actually on right now, but on mute. He usually slept with some background noise to give the illusion someone was home.
When the soup was done, Ladon went over and took his bowl after Paris ladled a steaming bowlful. He was sure it smelled wonderful..if he could smell at the moment. They took their bowls into the living room where Ladon sat down, taking his blanket to sit across his lap and then set the bowl down so it wouldn't burn him. "It's looks great." He pointed out, and started to eat. "..it's really good." He said after he cooled down a few spoonfuls and ate. It was warm, hot, and he could see by the vegetables and thick noodles that it was hearty.
He paused to smile at his bowl. "No one's really cooked for me before…ya know, aside from my parents." His dad dabbled while his mother cooked from time to time, but nothing extravagant. "I've visit your stainless steel kitchen whenever you'd let me if you cooked like this." He leaned back into the couch, before leaning to look at Paris more. "So what else…in your perfect home? You'd have cats and a small dog, a stainless steel kitchen and be wearing a massive diamond ring…." It was nice to talk of the world of dreams and fantasy. It said a lot about what a person wanted in life. What they hoped for. In short, they were goals. True, some weren't attainable, but sometimes a few things could be. "A big yard? In the city or the country? What would your dream job be?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 9:57 am
Paris got himself a glass of apple juice before following Ladon into the living room, carrying his own bowl of soup and making sure he didn't spill anything. He sat with Ladon on the couch, not minding that the television wasn't making any noise. Just having the flashing screen and pictures was enough to make him feel as if there was more going on in the house than just the two of them.
He smiled when Ladon complimented his cooking, pleased to actually have some appreciation for once. "Thanks," he said, taking a few bites as well, blowing on it for a few moments to cool each spoonful down before slipping it into his mouth. "I'll cook for you whenever you want. I like doing it, so it's not like it's any trouble."
It was calming, in a way. Standing in front of the stove and mixing ingredients together to make something delicious definitely wasn't as hectic as the rest of his life. In certain ways it helped him put things into perspective. It gave him the time to stand and think and process everything that was going on around him, a quiet time for him to consider his thoughts and feelings and come to terms with them, an escape from his usual activities, a break from sex -- and life -- and all the burdens that came with it.
Paris paused to think for a moment when Ladon went back to questioning him about his dream house. "If I lived in the city I wouldn't be able to have such a big yard, and I'm not sure how I'd do living out in the country. I think I'd get bored after a while with nothing to do. But I'd need a big closet, and a room to dance in would be nice... with mirrors and a ballet barre... I don't know what I'd do for a living, though. I'm not exactly job material. I hate school, so I know I definitely don't want to go to college. I'd perform if I could, and I know I'm good enough to, I just..." He trailed off and paused, finding it difficult to explain. "I don't know, I guess I just don't think I'll be lucky enough to be able to do that. Not everyone is, even if they are good. I wouldn't want to be just any old dancer. Most of the parts I'd like to do are for girls, and being a boy kinda gets in the way of that."
Sure, there were all-male dance groups he could join, but that would probably require relocating, and he wasn't sure he was ambitious enough for something like that. As much as he'd like to leave Destiny City, it was all he'd ever known; he wouldn't have a clue what to do with himself if he ever got out.
"What about you?" he asked, trying to get the conversation off of his own dreams and focused on someone else's instead. "You've heard more about my dream house than I've heard about yours."
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 10:34 am
He leaned more into the couch, slowly eating as he listened to Paris' game plan for the future, or at least things he hoped for. The idea of that 'unattainable' that he mentioned about his tattoo kept popping up in his mind, and he was rather set on firmly stomping that flower in Paris' mind into the ground. If he had dreams and desires, why not work to achieve them? It just didn't make sense to him, and he felt that there were plenty of things that Paris was mentioning that he could strive and accomplish.
"There is a big theatre district downtown. You should see if they are looking for anything and try out. You're young, so that probably is a big advantage, and there might even be a dance studio to take lessons. Unless you already do that. If you want to try, might as well try and see. Better than just dumping on the idea before you even start. Even if it takes a while, you could get that 'big break' everyone keeps talking about." He took another sip of soup rather matter-o-factly. "Maybe some great director - it's a director that does dances, right? – maybe they would make girl parts that he'd feel you were great for." He shrugged. "You never know." No point in just saying it was impossible without seeing what was out there and what he could do.
It wasn't unexpected for Paris to ask him what he wanted and what he dreamed of, and Ladon found no problems in answering that. He's always set goals for himself. True, his ideas had changed drastically since a year ago, but that was life. He still had goals. The unmentioned ones were helping the Negaverse as best he could, rid the senshi from Earth, and protect the planet. Getting to General or even, dare he dream it, General-King would be amazing.
When it came to his other life as Ladon, he also had a few ideas. "Okay. I'd have a small house since I don't like all the empty space. Nice kitchen, cause I'd cook too. Lots of polished wood and warm colors. I don't like everything looking gloomy and cold. Maybe have a gym somewhere in the basement so that even if it rains or gets nasty outside, I could still run and not feel like I'm laying around all day." He liked to move. Walking let him zone out, and he often had to feel downright exhausted to be able to sleep without keeping himself up all night thinking about things.
" I also like lots of windows to let light in." He might have seen way to much home décor shows late at night. "….and a yard. Fenced in so I could have a dog. A big one or smaller if I had more than one. I'd live here, since I grew up here, but maybe move more to the outskirts of town if I felt like it." He couldn't exactly up and leave since he worked for the Negaverse, and he saw no reason to.
Taking another spoonful, he hummed in thought around his spoon, before dipping the spoon back in the bowl and speaking. "I don't know exactly what I'd want to be. I don't want to go to Sovereign Heights and I haven't really felt like going to college. My mother leaves brochures about them all the time, and I just …" He shrugged, swirling the soup around in his bowl. "…I don't know. I don't feel like I want to be there. I don't know what job I'd want. If I could sew, that would be nice or move around. Maybe a tailor somewhere…or delivering packages? At least you get to move around and keep fit, though it would be horrible during the winter. Guess that's not a great job to think of when you could aim higher, but I don't want to be an executive or doctor." He ate some more, before setting his bowl down. He felt better, but he just couldn't eat a full bowl as much as he thought he could. There was still a little bit of soup left, but it was much more than he thought he would have eaten. He grabbed his blanket and curled in mover, moving it up around his shoulders.
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