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 Posted: Fri Nov 04, 2011 11:42 pm
Twenty-six wasn't really a good number to be celebrating. It wasn't like twenty-one or even eighteen. Heck, the only milestone birthday he had coming up was his thirtieth, but that was depressing to think about. Sure, it was Michael's own fault that he spent most of his younger 'free' years as a sailor. Not that he regretted his decision... it was just that now he had time to enjoy himself, yet he was boggled down with work and this knight crap.
In fact, he was only out of the house for a few hours before he had to get some sleep so he wasn't completely hung over to teach class in the morning. Some of the boys might find it hilarious, but others were such goody-two-shoes that he was certain they would report him to the principal. And that would suck. Not even a year of teaching and being fired.
Michael leaned his elbows on one of the tall tables near the bar, glancing lazily around at the people chatting and enjoying themselves as he took a swig from his bottle. He'd thought about inviting his new housemate to have a beer with him, but Gilbert was a strange one. He would probably drag him out to the bar that weekend when they both had time to get hammered. It sucked being a responsible adult sometimes.
It didn't take long for him to catch sight of a new girl making her way into the bar, and if she was twenty-one then he was the king of England. Usually the bouncers were good at keeping out those under aged, but some always managed to get in. Not that he really cared if they drank. He just didn't want some douche getting their hands all over children. And that's what these teenagers were... Children.
The place wasn't a tiny little pub, but a large open space with plenty of room to walk around, or sit on couches and chat, or even converse at tables. It was less wild than the tiny bars near the center of the city, but a place like this was good at keeping him from going overboard.
"Here alone?" he called to the blond, turning slightly to get a better look at her as she made her way towards the bar. She was pretty. Young... or maybe he was wrong and she just looked young.
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Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2011 12:12 pm
He definitely wasn’t wrong. At four months shy of legal, Paris should have no business in a place like this, and that wasn’t even counting the three years he should be waiting after that in order to drink.
To his credit, he wasn’t here to get drunk. He didn’t even intend to drink much. If anything, he was here for the company, meeting up with some of his fellow dancers—most of who truly were of age and encouraged him along when they found out he had a fake ID. Not irresponsible, just looking to have some innocent fun before heading into the studio again the next day. Paris was simply happy that they were being so inclusive. He was young, and he’d pretty much come up from nowhere. They could have easily alienated him instead.
Either way, he was well-practiced in getting in to the various clubs and bars around town without too many problems. Make-up helped to age him a little bit, and the ID did the rest. One of the benefits of living in his neighborhood was that he knew exactly who to go to in order to get a good one.
He looked around for the group he was meeting and saw them by the bar, but stopped in his tracks at the voice that spoke to him on his way over. Not the cleverest introduction, that was for sure. How often did people use that? He turned, expecting to see some desperate college student, but instead found Mr. Late 20s staring at him.
“Meeting friends, actually,” Paris said, casually looking him over in the dim lighting.
Nice clothes—possibly designer—neatly cropped hair, and very, very blue eyes. For a split second, Paris felt a little spark of interest, but that was quickly gone when he realized that Mr. Late 20s looked horribly familiar.
In fact, he looked like a nearly identical but much younger version of Chris’s dad.
And that was when the alarm bells started going off in his head.
“Uhhhh,” he froze, glancing around to make sure Mr. Late 20s was alone. Not that he expected to see Chris with him, of all people, or either of the Gallo parents—not in a place like this—but one could never be too sure. “Are you? Here alone, I mean...”
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Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2011 9:02 pm
"Ah," he let out with a breath, leaning over the table more, propping his elbow on it with his chin in his hand. Meeting friends... as in not really interested in being bothered by someone. Not that he really cared. He wasn't into minors. Twenty was pushing it for him.
But then as little Ms. Too-Good-For-You decided to spare a moment on him, he couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in expression. Or at least the way she tensed when she spoke to him again.
Strange behavior for someone faking their way into a bar. Not that he was going to blow the whistle. Talk about a hypocritical move on his part. Still, he straightened up a little when she asked, giving her a look over, himself. She was scrawny and kind of haughty looking, as if she wasn't going to take any bullshit. That was good at least, if his assumptions were right. It was better than being meek and innocent and not knowing what she was getting herself into.
"For the moment," he replied after a few seconds. "Please, don't let me keep you from your friends," he said, making a casual gesture with his hand for her to move along. Really, he wanted to see if she would call his bluff or not. He noticed the slight interest she had, and certainly she would prefer talking to someone like him over her little friends. Or maybe he just thought too highly of himself.
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Posted: Mon Nov 07, 2011 10:56 am
Paris couldn’t decide how he wanted to handle the situation. It was clear to him that Mr. Late 20s had absolutely no idea who he was—but why would he? It wasn’t like Chris was going around sharing pictures of them together. If he had any pictures of them at all, he’d probably hidden them away after they’d broken up, if he hadn’t gotten rid of them entirely. Why hang on to something that had been a lie?
Not only that, but he was pretty sure Mr. Late 20s was having the same problem many other people had when it came to Paris and gender. Normally this wouldn’t concern him, though he’d taken to being a little more honest with deluded people as of late, but after fooling one Gallo brother and breaking his heart and paying off the other, he wasn’t too thrilled by the idea of pulling something similar on the third.
And he was pretty sure this was the third. He looked so much like Chris’s dad, it was almost creepy.
Paris eyed him as he continued to make his way passed the table the eldest Gallo child had claimed, crossing the distance between himself and the bar and joining the group of acquaintances he’d initially been aiming for. They greeted him happily, and Ross, the handsome young man playing the Nutcracker Prince, offered him a drink, which Paris accepted, but try as he might to insinuate himself with these people he’d been dancing with for a few weeks now, he couldn’t shake off the fact that Chris’s big brother was sitting right over there.
As soon as he had his drink in hand, Paris momentarily excused himself from his group and made his way back over to Mr. Late 20s’ table. He didn’t wait for an invitation and pulled out one of the tall chairs to climb up into, setting his drink down and propping his elbows onto the table.
“I know who you are,” he told him. Not the best introduction and perhaps even a bit stalker-ish sounding, but he figured getting that out of the way was rather important, along with a few other key details. “And I’m not a girl, so don’t get too interested.”
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Posted: Mon Nov 07, 2011 3:00 pm
Michael watched as the blond made her way off to her friends, eyeing them and wondering how old they were as well. At least he was now of legal age to drink. It hadn't been that way years ago, but how that he was older, he thought it was perfectly acceptable for him to keep an eye on the youth of today.
After a few moments though, he took a swig of his drink and turned to look for something else to interest him. A bunch of girls had just walked in with too-short skirts and he winked to them as they passed. Sadly it seemed they were all meeting their beaus...
What a lonely evening it was going to be... Twenty-six with just a drink and no company. Michael checked his watch for the time, figuring he could leave after his beer and head home to finish up on those assignments he'd given his classes. Unfortunately for his students and himself included, they had to have written tests and not just work on projects all year. Which meant he had to read through things to grade.
When the blond from before decided to join him finally, Michael looked up in slight surprise, although he knew he shouldn't be. They all came around eventually.
"My reputation precedes me?" he wondered casually, grinning lightly in amusement at the pretty blond. And then she informed him that she was not a she, but a he. He stared at the pretty boy for a few moments, before shrugging. "Nobody's perfect," he said, adding a wink at the end.
"Although, I am curious as to how you know me," he said, looking the boy over again. He wasn't nearly that desperate to be interested in a teenager, despite the gender... and even then he wasn't nearly drunk enough. Maybe after a few more beers. If he was twenty-something.
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Posted: Mon Nov 07, 2011 4:15 pm
“Can’t say I know too much about your reputation,” Paris admitted, “but I know you’re Michael Gallo.”
The truth was he knew very little about him. He knew he was intelligent. He knew he was handsome. He knew that Michael had followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the navy. He knew that Chris looked up to him, that his parents were proud of him, that his mother missed him, and that Peter preferred him to Chris.
He hadn’t known what to expect beyond that. He hadn’t even been sure he’d ever meet him. The only time he’d ever seen him before had been in pictures at the Gallos’ house. He supposed, if he’d taken the time to imagine what he was like before now, he would have imagined someone like Chris—a Momma’s boy, a goody-goody, a gentleman, a prince in a city of common men, kind and chivalrous and encouraging, and every good girl’s dream.
From the vibes he was getting from him now, Paris suspected that Michael Gallo was a player.
Really, who winked like that unless they thought they were tough s**t and expected everyone to fall at their feet?
“I come by your parents’ house a lot,” he continued. “I’ve seen pictures of you. I know you because you look just like your dad. I sort of hang out with your mom on a weekly basis.”
It was like having a replacement for his mostly absent mother, though he acknowledged that the situation was a bit awkward seeing as her son had broken up with him and Momma Gallo was under the impression that it was because Chris was worried about how he would be perceived when he finally came out.
Most of the time Paris still felt guilty for it. The rest of the time he thought that was an issue Chris needed to sort out for himself.
“I’m Paris,” he introduced himself. He gave no other explanation than that, intending to see if Chris had ever mentioned him to the older brother he idolized.
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Posted: Mon Nov 07, 2011 9:33 pm
Michael's eyebrows raised in curiosity as Paris semi-introduced himself. "Is that why you and my brother broke up? Because you're a boy?" he wondered, sitting up a bit straighter on his stool, looking the young man over for a few moments before taking a drink. "Or does my brother know you're outing him before he can do it himself?" he wondered.
Well, at least he didn't have to introduce himself. The fact that this kid hung out with his mother was weird though. But of course Chris had mentioned Paris to him. From what he could tell, Chris had been very happy with this mysterious girl named Paris. Then a few months later they'd broken up and Chris didn't want to talk about it.
"Or," he continued, raising a finger to point mock-accusingly at Paris. "You are just good at lying and Chris found out that you were a boy and broke up with you then. I mean, clearly you're good at lying," he added, eyeing the drink Paris had with him. Yeah, he was definitely underage.
"So..." he started, his partial frown turning into a grin. "Aren't your friends going to get jealous?" After all, Paris was now taking the time to talk to him instead of hanging out with them!
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Posted: Mon Nov 07, 2011 9:53 pm
For a brief moment, Paris was happy that Chris had liked him enough to tell his big brother about him. Then he was reminded of the fact that he and Chris weren’t happy and perfect anymore, and that moment ended as quickly as it came.
He picked up his drink to sip at it for a few seconds. He’d seen Michael eyeing it and was sure he knew he was very much underage. Paris didn’t have a problem with shoving it into his face and daring him to make an issue of it. Something told him Michael wouldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from making a minor scene and downing half the drink in one go.
“First you were hoping I’d be alone so you could have me come over here and now that I have come over you want me to go back to my friends? Make up your mind,” he said, setting his drink back down to idly stir the straw around and around the glass.
He pondered Michael’s questions regarding the end of his relationship with Chris. It didn’t surprise him to learn that Chris hadn’t said anything of it aside from the fact that they were no longer together. He’d thought Michael more likely to know the truth than Mrs. Gallo, since Chris didn’t seem the type to have conversations with his mother regarding his relationships with people and his potential sexual identity crisis… which apparently everyone was under the impression that he was experiencing, except for Paris, and, of course, Chris himself.
“I guess it’s more the third one, really,” he eventually decided. “I was a good liar. I played my part well. I’ve had a lot of practice, I’m sure you can tell. Chris got angry that I’d lied and threw me out and that was the end of it.”
He’d known that. He knew it still. Yet for some reason he hadn’t bothered to think much about any potential implications, probably because he thought they were pretty laughable knowing what he knew about Chris’s sexual history.
“Wait, are you saying you think Chris is… not quite straight…?”
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Posted: Wed Nov 09, 2011 1:37 pm
"What can I say. I'm fickle," he shrugged, not really caring that Paris could be getting frustrated about him making up his mind or whatever. He held back an eyeroll as the teenager decided to down half his drink. "Classy," he mumbled, his eyebrows raised curiously at him. "It's amazing why Chris didn't think you were a keeper." Not that he really knew what his brother was even thinking when he started going out with Paris. From his understanding, he'd thought that Paris was a girl. Obviously that was very wrong. The pretty little blond was even admitting that he'd been thrown out. Again, very classy. On both sides of the situation.
Michael took a drink from his bottle as the conversation continued, although he couldn't help but eye some of the older women as they walked by, flashing them a toothy grin and small nod when a couple looked his way. Just because he was talking to a kid didn't mean he couldn't keep his eye out for more interesting prospects.
"I'm so glad this is turning into a discussion about whether or not my brother is straight," he said, still watching and smiling after the girls as Paris spoke to him, although he turned his direction a few moments later. "What I'm saying... is that I don't really think it matters in the long run. But I'm not Chris. You're going to have to discuss that with him. He certainly hasn't told me about any guys he's been pining after," he explained with another shrug and taking another swig of beer.
"Why? Are you hoping he's not quite straight? Dangerous territory there. Be careful about getting your hopes up. Besides, won't you break your little boyfriend's heart? He's been looking over here," he said, making a movement with his head to indicate Paris's friends he'd left at the bar.
He knew his brother fairly well, and he was pretty sure that, when it came down to it, he wouldn't care either way... Maybe. Well, he certainly didn't care once he was drunk enough, but... who knew.
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Posted: Wed Nov 09, 2011 4:32 pm
“Don’t be an a**,” Paris said, continuing to stir his straw through the remainder of his drink as he frowned across at Michael. “Just because I drink doesn’t make me some trashy skank. Not like you,” he observed. It wasn’t hard to miss the way he kept looking around at all the women, silently begging them all to flock around him and perhaps accompany him home.
So what if Paris liked to have a few drinks every once in a while? So what if he used to drink a lot more? So what if he used to sleep around? Chris knew that much at least, and he hadn’t cared. Michael didn’t need to know about that, nor did Paris think he had any room to judge, given how he was carrying on.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” he added. He glanced over to the bar to see Ross eyeing him curiously, but when Paris waved him off he shrugged and went back to chatting along with the others. “We’re friends. We dance together. I’m going to be in a show. You can ask your mom all about it. I’m sure she’d just love to tell you. We’re pretty tight, me and your mom.”
He did his best not to think about Chris anymore, not wanting to get too hopeful, though now that the thought was in his head, he couldn’t get it to go away. He must have some exceptionally bad gay-dar if he’d managed to miss anything decidedly not straight about Chris—of course, then he remembered how he used to tease Ladon about future girlfriends, and the next thing he’d known Ladon was going out with Billy. It just goes to show he couldn’t predict everything.
Which wasn’t helping matters, because now he was getting suspicious about Chris and he didn’t want to get suspicious about Chris. Michael was right about that, at least. He didn’t need to be getting his hopes up, not because he wouldn’t want to break someone else’s heart but because he didn’t want to break his own.
“Speaking of, does your mom know you do this? Hanging out in bars all night trying to pick up women and hitting on seventeen year old boys? Somehow I don’t think she does. Chris can’t know. He’d probably think you were a sleaze if he did. He so prude-ish…”
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Posted: Wed Nov 09, 2011 7:01 pm
"Not like me?" he repeated feigning an offended look and lifting a hand to his chest as if he were physically hurt. "Ouch, that's not very nice. Now who's judging?" he wondered, although he grinned in obvious amusement.
"And that's really creepy that you hang out with my mother," he said, although he didn't look all that creeped out. Just amused. "I'm sure Chris loves the fact that he can't go home without the chance of running into you," he pointed out, although it wasn't really clear in his voice if he was just saying it or if he was being slightly passive agressive. If his ex hung out with his mom, he would never go home. That was just strange. "But I'm glad you're having a good time with her. I'm sure she loves the company."
He took another sip of his beer as he peered over to the group Paris had left, grinning mischievously over at the dancers. What? He was sure his brother would appreciate their nice legs... Ah! Well, no wonder Chris had been tricked into thinking Paris was a girl. It had to be the legs. And it didn't help that he obviously dressed like a girl. Hell, even he thought he was a girl for a few minutes!
Michael's eyebrows raised curiously when his hangout spot was called into question, not thinking it was anything important. "I'm twenty-six, as of today, and I've been fighting in a war for the past seven years overseas. I don't think my mom would care that I'm out at a bar to celebrate before turning in early since I have to teach in the morning," he said, also not caring whether or not his brother knew about what he did or not. "Tell me, would it be worse that my mom found out about me, or if she found out that her son's ex-boyfriend was hanging out at a bar, underage?"
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2011 2:13 pm
“She probably wouldn’t believe you,” Paris said with a shrug. “She thinks I’m the sweetest thing ever. Or she’d give me that overly concerned look but not make a big deal about it. It’s not like she can really do anything. I’m not her kid.”
He liked to pretend that he was. He liked to get all the attention and affection from her that he should be getting from his own mother, but it wasn’t like he was going to get into trouble or be punished if he happened to do something wrong. She’d just frown and watch him with sad eyes until he felt guilty—which he supposed was just as bad, if not worse sometimes, than being grounded.
He wouldn’t know. His parents had never bothered to ground him.
Paris lifted his glass to down the last half of his drink, rolling his eyes at the man across from him. He wasn’t sure how much he liked Michael—or if he did at all. He was handsome, of course, and charming enough. He could see why the ladies would flock to him, but there was something about his attitude that rubbed Paris the wrong way. He couldn’t decide if it was the cockiness, or if he was sensing a bit of condescension in Michael’s voice when he spoke to him.
“Whatever,” he said, sliding out of his chair. “I guess it was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll run into you again at some point. I’m over at your parents’ house enough. Speaking of, you should call your mom more. She gets lonely.”
It wasn’t really any of his business to say stuff like that, and he didn’t exactly have much right to make the suggestion when he barely ever called his own mother, but if Chris or Michael ever truly had such a problem with their mom more or less unofficially adopting him as one of her own, they should maybe think about dropping by more often before complaining.
“Anyway, have fun and happy birthday. I’ll see you around.”
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Posted: Tue Nov 15, 2011 1:12 pm
Michael's eyebrows raised in curiosity as Paris shrugged and gave his defense before finishing off his drink like it was no one's business. For being a kid of... was it seventeen that Paris had said? Jeez, he was young... For being a kid of seventeen, he sure could throw back his alcohol like it was nothing. Not that Michael cared. He was the same way back in the day.
"Nice meeting you, too, Shortie," he said with a small wave as Paris hopped off the stool and made his way back to his little friends. For someone Chris had spoken so highly of, the kid didn't seem all that appealing. He had his looks, sure, but he wasn't much of a talker. Or maybe that was simply because he hadn't wanted to give away too much, seeing as he was his little brother's ex.
A smirk crossed Michael's face as he mused over the short meeting he'd just had, but after a few more minutes he finished his drink and got up to head out. As tempting as it was to try and someone to bring home with him, he was sure his new housemate wouldn't appreciate the celebrations as much as he would.
As for calling his mother... he'd just spoken to her earlier. She was the first to call and wish him a happy birthday, after all. But Paris didn't need to know that he did in fact talk to his mother every week. More than that would be much too clingy and annoying for him.
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