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 Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 5:14 pm
Paris figured he had a lot to be thankful for. Okay, so maybe not a lot. He could live in a better area—or a better city, for that matter—and he could definitely do without being stuck in a war that seemed to have no end, but he was surviving, wasn’t he? He was working his way through some pretty tough things, and the people who fought through their problems all came out stronger for it, didn’t they?
Things could have been worse. Sure, his mother had left him to live the glamorous life in the Big Apple, but he still saw her from time to time; occasionally she still made the effort, and even though he got annoyed with her when she did, she could have easily abandoned him completely. And, yeah, his father was sick and growing a little more haggard looking by the day, but he wasn’t dead—yet—and now that Paris had left school with the intention of taking care of him, they were getting along a lot better—in an awkward sort of way that included a lot of sarcastic bickering, but at least they weren’t shouting at one another, and as they were both attempting to abstain from the consumption of alcohol, Paris figured they were each more pleasant to be around.
He had friends—not a lot, but the he truly cared about the ones he did have, and he thought that meant more than having a ton of friends he wasn’t especially close to—and he had some semblance of a future in the works. He was working, which was a lot different than dicking around at school had been, and it got crazy boring sometimes, but there was a strange sense of fulfillment in it, and when he wasn’t working he was dancing. He was going to be performing before long, for a minor company, true, but it was a chance.
And some people could make great things out of the smallest of chances.
Or so Paris kept telling himself. He wasn’t really used to such positive thinking, but he was determined to give it a try, because despite all the s**t going on here, there, and everywhere, he was alive—and that was something to be immensely thankful for.
Currently he was at his father’s store, straightening up some of the shelves and displays and restocking things where supplies were running low. It was at that point in the afternoon when most of the kids who went to school regular hours were just beginning to get out of class, so the store was—for the moment—empty. Paris danced around as he worked, trotting between shelves and twirling around corners as he sang to the music playing on the radio, using a stray paint brush as a make-shift microphone. It was, perhaps, not particularly advisable behavior, given that the store was quite small and cluttered, but he’d been in it so often since childhood he knew it about as well as the back of his own hand and therefore wasn’t all that worried about knocking anything over.
His father sat behind the checkout counter, working on a crossword puzzle or Sudoku and occasionally eyeing Paris warily, as if he expected him to spontaneously combust at any moment.
Paris couldn’t really blame him. He supposed to the people he was around most, he seemed quite moody. He couldn’t go from hopeless and miserable to happy and excitable without getting a few raised eyebrows.
“‘Nous on fait l'amour on vit la vie, Jour après jour nuit après nuit. A quoi ça sert d'être sur la terre, Si c'est pour faire nos vies à genoux…’”
“What the hell are you listening to?” his father eventually barked, staring up and looking quite annoyed.
“Roméo et Juliette,” Paris supplied, placing a few more bottles of paint on one of the shelves.
“Why don’t you listen to something everyone else can understand? Something the customers can actually enjoy.”
“You understand it,” Paris pointed out. “Besides, there aren’t any customers here at the moment. Even if there were, I wouldn’t change it. I have to stay here for hours. They can come and go as they please.”
His father grunted and went back to his puzzle. Or at least, he appeared to. There was a plate of brownies on the counter, and after a few surreptitious glances in Paris’s direction, he reached out to try and grab one.
And found the end of a paintbrush coming down on his hand.
“Those aren’t for you,” Paris reminded him. “If you want a snack, there’s plenty of fruit in the office fridge.”
“What the hell are you keeping me here for anyway?”
“Because there’s someone you have to meet. Under the circumstances, it’s only appropriate.”
His father grunted again and mumbled something that sounded like “since when have you be appropriate?” before returning with a scowl to his puzzle.
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Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 6:52 pm
Chris didn't think that things could go back to "normal" so quickly after the month of going back and forth to the Surrounding, but things certainly seemed to be falling back into place. He was able to sleep more, at least. He didn't have to worry about spending whatever extra time he had in the evenings after working at Paris's dad's shop at the Surrounding, he was able to work on his school projects without really having to worry about falling behind like he thought he was going to. Over all, things were just... moving back into place. Sure, he still went out and made sure there weren't any youma causing trouble, but that was the norm by now.
He thought he was going to be late for work, having stayed at school a little longer than he'd intended in order to talk to one of his counselors about an assignment, but managed to pull into the back of the parking lot a few minutes before his shift started.
Usually it was just Paris that he switched off with, so he was a little surprised when he opened the door and saw an older man sitting behind the counter. It didn't take him long to spot Paris though, and offered him a smile in greeting.
It was getting chilly out so he had on his DCU letter jacket they'd given him last year when he started school. Of course, he would probably need a new one soon because while the jacket was big enough, the sleeves were getting a little short on him. Under the purple and white of the school colors he wore his unsurprising choices of a dark green polo and khaki pants and casual shoes. His hair was getting to the point where he knew his mother would pitch a fit if she saw him, but he at least kept it brushed and neatly in place... it was just a little scruffy.
"You wanted me to work today, didn't you?" he asked Paris curiously, not thinking he got the days wrong, but he wanted to at least make sure before he went to clock in.
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Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 7:14 pm
Paris turned from the checkout counter as soon as he heard the bell jingle over the door and skipped his way over to Chris, dropping his paintbrush-c**-microphone into the appropriate container along the way. He smiled brightly and looked as chipper as he ever had, as if they hadn’t just spent the last month and a half dealing with the stresses found in space, and as if he and Chris had never had a bad moment between them since they’d met.
“Hi,” he said, coming to a stop in front of him and perhaps leaning a bit closer than usual, peering up at Chris from the many inches he stood below. “Yup, you’re on for today. I just had a really big favor to ask you and then I was going to let you meet someone before I head for the studio.”
He could tell that his father had stopped what he’d been doing to stare at them. Paris had his back to him and couldn’t see him, but he’d been around him long enough to know that his father wouldn’t bother to keep his curiosity to himself.
“You see, I should really be spending more time at dance, what with the shows coming up at the end of next month and all,” he explained, moving a hand to finger Chris’s jacket in a ‘hi, I’m cute, how can you possibly say ‘no’ to me?’ sort of way. “And since things aren’t quite so busy now, you know, with all of that mess from before over and done with, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking over the Tuesday and Thursday afternoon shifts, too? With Dad taking the morning shifts and you taking the afternoons, I can focus on my dancing until the shows are over, and just come in to help out when I have the time.”
Maybe it was a lot to ask of him. He didn’t think it was, but Paris was used to feeling as if he were asking for a lot by now. He was sure Chris had other things to do, places to be, people to see, homework and volunteer work or whatever else he did with his free time, but since he already worked Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, Paris didn’t think two more would be overwhelming.
“It’s okay if you can’t. I just thought I’d ask. Don't feel pressured to say 'yes' or anything,” he reassured him. He looked up at him with the sweetest, most innocent face he could possibly manage. He wasn’t plotting anything nefarious, though he could see how someone might think so, considering he was purposefully putting on the charm. He just liked getting attention, especially when it came from Chris, and now that there weren’t any more secrets between them—at least on his end—he didn’t see why they shouldn’t be friendlier and less awkwardly tense.
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Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 7:36 pm
Chris wasn't expecting for Paris to pretty much jump him as he entered the shop, moving right up to him to speak. He stared down at him, fighting the urge to take a step back to make more space between them, but then he would run into the door and that would be kind of embarrassing. Especially with the way the older man was looking over at him.
"Uh," he started rather lamely, tensing a little as Paris reached out to touch his jacket. "I mean... yeah, I don't see that being a problem. That's fine with me," he said, keeping his eyes on Paris and trying his hardest not to look up at the man sitting behind the counter. Of course, with how close Paris was to him, he couldn't help but flush lightly in awkward embarrassment. And because Paris was acting so strangely sweet and just... as if they'd never broken up and he'd never lied and he was, well, actually a girl. Which he wasn't so...
"I don't mind," he said as if to confirm to himself that he was agreeing to help out more as he made a mental note to put more time aside for him to get his projects done. He could always just patrol on his way home or something. And it wasn't like the store was open all that late.
"You okay?" he asked, a bit wary as he stared down at his friend. Not that he didn't like the cheerfulness, it was just... well, after such a rough month, it was surprising that anyone could be chipper. But life moved on, right...?
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Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 8:04 pm
Life moved on, indeed. Paris was doing his damnedest to move forward. He didn’t want to be stuck in a months long rut like he had the last time something horrible had happened. He didn’t expect anyone would be around to help him out of it this time, or come along at such a perfect moment like Chris had.
He didn’t let Chris’s apparent nervousness deter him and went right along smiling. Cheerfully, he grabbed onto one of his arms once he’d agreed and all but dragged Chris over to the checkout counter. “I’m fine,” he said, “but you should really meet my dad. He’ll probably be here from now on when you come in, so it’ll be less awkward if you two already know each other, right? You kept bugging me about meeting him before, and since you’re pretty much working for him now I figure it’s the right time.”
He let go of Chris’s arm only when they came to a stop and stood next to him facing the counter. “Dad, this is Chris. Chris, this is my dad.”
Paris, in his shorts over leggings and Hello Kitty themed clothing in cheery pink and blue and crisp white, probably looked remarkably sweet, bright and lively next to his father, who had on nothing more than an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt, with a couple of days’ worth of stubble covering his face. Aside from the color of their eyes, the two looked nothing alike. Paris was short, thin, and fair. His father was average height, a little overweight, and quite a bit darker in the hair, which had streaks of gray running through it and looked a bit unkempt. The only other trait Paris could claim from his father was the expressiveness of his face.
His dad was looking at Chris like he’d never seen anything like him before—from surprise, to incredulity, to all out shock.
He stared at Chris’s jacket, at his clean-cut polo and khakis, at his shoes that probably cost more than anything his father had ever spent on a pair of footwear in his life, and then up to his hair, which somehow managed to look neat and shaggy at the same time. He stared and he stared and he stared, and when he was done he finally turned to Paris to ask, “Where the hell did you find this guy?”
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Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 8:14 pm
His dad? This was Paris's father? Chris stared as well, but not in the same way that he was being stared at. Although put on the spot, he managed to smile his most polite smile and stuck out his hand to greet the other man.
Although... he seemed more interested in staring at him than anything else.
"Uh... It's... nice to meet you, Mr. LeFay..." he said, almost speaking over Paris's father's question, not really sure what he meant by that and quickly looked down at himself, wondering if it was something he was wearing or what. He laughed lightly, awkwardly, as he tried to figure out what to say and if he should keep his hand out or if he should retract it.
Well, this was a bit awkward.
"Chris Gallo," he introduced further, before figuring he should further explain his rather short resume to the man that was paying him to work. "I'm a sophomore at DCU, I've never worked retail before this, but I volunteer at the animal shelter..." he tried, not sure if he was helping or hindering the situation. He had a feeling that he was just digging himself into an even more awkward hole.
He glanced over to Paris for help, not really sure what else to do besides stand there and let himself be stared at. Which was... again, awkward.
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Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 8:31 pm
After living around someone so brusque and surly for so many years, it was hard for Paris to actually be embarrassed or uncomfortable by his father’s behavior. He supposed for other people it might take some getting used to, especially for someone with such “normal” parents as Chris had—or did the fact that Paris had never met anyone like them before make them “abnormal”?—but he had long since learned to just roll with it.
His father turned back to Chris before Paris even had a chance to response, raising an eyebrow at his greeting and staring at his outstretched hand. “Henri,” he corrected. “No one calls me Mr. LeFay.”
Once he’d gotten his fill of staring again, Henri stood to his feet and took Chris’s hand for a quick shake. Paris wondered if his father was bothered by the fact that Chris was a good three inches taller than him; he kept looking at the top of Chris’s head as if it offended him.
“Chris and I met at a party,” Paris finally explained, remaining where he was beside Chris and looking between the two with a smile still plastered on his face. It was sort of amusing, in a way, watching two completely different people from completely different worlds meet and interact with one another. “Across town. Not your typical college beer fest. Lloyd took me.”
“That kid down the street who wants to be a dentist?”
“Orthodontist.”
“Whatever.”
Paris rolled his eyes but continued on as if he hadn’t been needlessly interrupted. “Chris plays baseball. Pitcher. He’s really good. And he’s studying architecture, so he’s not completely lacking in artistic skills.”
“Is that so?” his father wondered. He didn’t seem any more surprised than he had before, though he kept looking Chris over. “And you’re the boyfriend?” he asked him, once he’d spent a couple of moments staring at the letters on his jacket. “What the hell would a guy like you want to date Paris for?”
He should have been insulted. Instead, Paris just laughed.
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Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 8:50 pm
"Henri," Chris repeated, trying it out. It bothered him not to use formal titles to address those older than he was, but he figured if Paris's father preferred his first name then who was he to argue?
He watched as Henri looked him over again, not really sure what to think of all the gawking or if he should just let him do whatever. It wasn't like looking was hurting anyone, right? He did his best not to let his smile look strained as the topic turned to his relationship with Paris. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? 'Oh, actually I'm his ex because your son tricked me into thinking he was a girl for several months because I was an idiot and he was really convincing'? Yeah, he didn't think that would go over very well.
"He's charming," he found himself saying instead, trying to think of why he'd ever asked Paris out in the first place. Well, he had great legs, which Chris cursed himself over, but that wasn't the only reason as to why he'd asked her out. "And passionate about the things he loves, and always looks forward instead of being held down by past failures and regrets," he said with small shrug, glancing down at Paris as he spoke, but he looked back up at Henri after a few moments with a small smile.
"We're not dating, though. Just friends."
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Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2011 11:26 am
He didn’t know how he’d been expecting Chris to answer, though he’d considered that he might try to change the topic and avoid the question entirely, so when Chris actually did answer—and not in a harsh or accusatory way—Paris was a little surprised.
He just didn’t let himself show it.
“Aww, that was really sweet,” he gushed, grabbing onto Chris arm again and giving it a squeeze while temporarily leaning into his side to lay his head by Chris’s shoulder.
Henri stared at the two of them and muttered something under his breath that was largely intelligible, crossing his arms as he did so and frowning in a way that let Paris know he was growing a bit uncomfortable by the public display. Paris didn’t particularly care about his father’s discomfort when it came to such things, but he was wary of offending Chris, so he soon let go of his arm and gracefully took a step to the side so that he wasn’t standing so close to him any longer.
“Be nice,” he told his father. “Chris is going out of his way to help, and he’s not doing a bad job. I’ve already taught him everything, so you don't have to worry about explaining anything to him. He knows what he's doing.”
His father performed an eye-roll very similar to Paris’s shows of annoyance—and he wondered if perhaps he’d gotten that from him, too—and went about trying to make himself look unimpressed and dissatisfied, all the while sneaking glances at Chris as if he was trying to figure out if he was the real deal or not. Paris was pretty sure he didn’t have a problem letting Chris into his store. His friendly, helpful nature definitely appealed to the customers, and his clean-cut good looks probably attracted a lot of the snobby female graphic designers who came in complaining that they didn’t have the right kind of mat board.
Paris momentarily considered the fact that Chris might be using this as a chance to flirt with eligible college girls, but consoled himself with the reminder that he had better legs than any of them.
As if Chris would ever consider dating him again.
“Alright, dad, now that you two know each other, you’re free to go. I’ve got to head to the studio in a little bit anyway,” he said, getting back to the conversation at hand.
Henry grunted and collected his wallet and keys from a drawer by the counter. “Go do your little fairy dance,” he grumbled.
Paris couldn’t tell if he was being snide or making a general comment. He decided that while he would have liked it to be the latter, it was probably more the former. “Thanks, dad,” he replied sarcastically. “I can always depend on your encouragement and support.”
Henri shot him an annoyed glare, then turned his gaze to Chris, pointing a finger at him as he said, “Don’t ******** up my store.”
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Posted: Thu Oct 27, 2011 9:18 am
Chris glanced down at Paris as he grabbed onto his arm again, giving him an incredulous look. He hadn't meant it as something sweet. He was just saying reasons as to why someone might want to date him. Of course, he could have also added that he was a liar and expected a lot from people, but... that would be mean and not sweet at all. And he wasn't in the mood for hurting his feelings.
He wasn't really sure what to think of the bickering between both Paris and his father, but he figured it was something they were used to by now. It didn't seem to be too harsh sounding, but he made sure to keep an eye on Paris's expression to make sure he wasn't being hurt by the comments. He obviously didn't know his father all that well, but anyone being talked down to made him uncomfortable.
"Yes sir, I'll have everything under control," he agreed, not thinking it would be that big a problem to keep the store orderly and the register working. Chris watched as Henri made his way to the door, and laughed lightly, holding up his hands in defense when he was pointed at. "I won't. I promise," he insisted.
Once Henri had left, though, Chris turned to Paris with a small frown. "Are you going to be okay? Can't you get a ride from someone?" he wondered, playing with the idea of locking up the store for about a half hour so he could drive Paris to his dance studio. It would be quicker that way, and less potential for him getting hurt or something ridiculous like that.
"When does the performance start...? I mean.. officially?"
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Posted: Thu Oct 27, 2011 4:48 pm
Paris figured he could have pretended to be upset by his father’s behavior and scored some sympathy points from Chris, but he wasn’t upset or even surprised by it, and he’d told Chris a big enough lie already without adding more on top of it. If he felt anything by what his father said or did, it was simple annoyance. It was never anything especially malicious anyway. After seventeen years, his father was running out of good material.
He watched him as he left, keeping an eye on him until he’d gone through the door and headed to his car, before turning to Chris with another smile. “Oh, it’s fine. I can just bus it. When you can’t drive you kind of get used to public transit,” he said. “It’s not really a big deal. I’m a big boy. I can look after myself.”
He didn’t want Chris thinking he needed some sort of an escort. He’d have thought revealing himself as Ganymede would have been enough to get Chris to realize he could watch his own back when he needed to, but then the revelation hadn’t come under the best circumstances and he’d been a bit vulnerable at the time that it had happened, so he hadn’t really put on the sort of show to inspire any sort of confidence in someone who probably looked at him and saw some small statured, dainty little school kid.
“The shows start the weekend after Thanksgiving. Well, not the one directly after, but the one after that. So I think December 2nd is the first one,” he said, pausing to consult his mental calendar, but he had trouble keeping track of the days in his head and eventually gave up. “I’ll let you know when my days to dance are once it gets a little closer. I should find out soon. I know your mom keeps asking me about tickets.”
In all honesty, he didn’t expect Chris to come. He knew he had little interest in ballet and even less knowledge about it. He could imagine Mrs. Gallo dragging him along at some point, but he wasn’t holding his breath for Chris to come on his own. It would be nice, but unlikely—and unnecessary, really. They were just friends now. If they were still dating, Paris might have asked him if he would come just once, but now he didn’t think that was the sort of thing he should ask for. Besides, he wouldn’t notice him from the stage anyway, so there wasn’t any point except for sentimentality’s sake.
“I should probably go ahead and head out, too. I don’t want to miss the bus,” he said, looking at the clock before grabbing his hat and scarf from the counter. “I made some cream cheese brownies for you to snack on. They’re just chocolate chip cookie dough with a cream cheese filling. They’re really good, and if you want anything else, you know you can find it in the fridge in the back.”
He put his hat on and wrap his scarf around his neck, then leaned over the counter to grab his dance bag and his purse from underneath. He turned back toward Chris once he’d done so and boosted himself up on his tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Thanks for helping out. I’ll pay you back one day. And don’t let Dad get hard on you. He really just likes to be a grump, so don’t be afraid to talk back if he tries to give you a hard time when you come in. He’s always looking for something to grumble and complain about.”
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Posted: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:51 pm
Chris gave Paris a wary look. He knew he would be able to take care of himself, but that didn't mean he didn't want to at least see him to his destination. What if he ran into trouble on the way? Of course, Chris was also known to worry about things rather obsessively.
He nodded lightly in acceptance, figuring that Paris would be just fine taking a bus. "Okay... And yeah, I know where everything is, thanks," he said, deciding not to comment on the show and when it started. He hadn't decided if he wanted to go see it or not. Paris's roll was iconic but not very big, right...? At least he remembered hearing something like that. Maybe he was making things up in his head. Either way, Paris would be right in thinking that ballets weren't really his thing. He liked structure and realistic art. Dancing, while he thought was beautiful, was more figurative and expressionist. It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy it! He just didn't understand it as well as he wanted to.
Maybe his mom would buy the recording or something like that. Then they could just skip to Paris's part and he could say he'd seen him. But that seemed kind of pathetic.
"Thanks for the brownies," he added with a smile, looking over at the plate that had been left out for him. "You do too much for me. I'm working for you, remember?" And yet it seemed as tough Paris was always taking care of him. Making him food and keeping the fridge stocked.
Chris felt like a jerk for just accepting everything.
The momentary self-distraction ended in blinking in surprise when he was pulled down a bit to receive a kiss on the cheek, which immediately burned red. He'd never had a problem with Paris kissing him before... but that was before he realized he was a guy. "Y-yeah, no problem," he stuttered like an idiot, trying to shake off the shock. Ganymede had kissed him too, but that was before he realized it was Paris! Aaahhh... things were just getting awkward and complicated.
"Have fun," he called after him, smiling and lightly shaking his head after him at Paris's suggestion about his father. "I've got it under control. Don't worry."
He waited until he couldn't see Paris from out the store windows before he moved to sit behind the counter and shrug off his back pack so he could start on homework. It was going to be a long few months, but hopefully Paris will be able to accomplish something for himself... so Chris didn't mind helping in the least.
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