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 Posted: Wed Dec 21, 2011 7:51 pm
Paris was in the kitchen washing the dishes three days before Christmas when he thought he might have heard a knock on the front door.
He could see into the backyard through the window over the sink. Outside, a fine layer of snow covered the patchy, fenced-in square of grass, as flakes of white fell from a dark, cloudy night sky. It was nearly nine PM. His father had retired to his room after dinner and was already asleep, leaving Paris to clean up, alone in the small, quiet house but for his kitten, who sat by her dish lapping at the wet food he’d set out for her.
The faucet was running, the steady stream of water accompanied by the clink-clink of dishes and utensils being moved around, sorted, lifted, and washed, and then set into the rack on the counter to dry. As always, the nearby radio provided him with music for entertainment—the many Christmas carols that had been playing since the start of the season, which he wasn’t bored enough with yet to bother finding something else.
“Little baby, pa-ra-pa-pum-pum… I am a poor boy too, pa-ra-pa-pum-pum…”
It was a quiet, peaceful night—the sort to make it hard to believe that there was so much going on in the city—at least until the sound came from the front of the house again, and Paris realized he hadn’t imagined the first knock at all.
Mildly confused as to why anyone would bother coming by at this time of night when they didn’t usually get visitors to begin with, Paris turned off the sink, wiped his hands off on a stray rag, and headed through the living room to open the front door.
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Posted: Wed Dec 21, 2011 8:14 pm
Chris shivered slightly as he stood outside Paris's home, glancing over his shoulder at the snow falling slowly to the ground. Part of him wondered if this was a bad idea, if this would ruin everything that had actually been going right in his life for the first time in... well, things usually went along pretty well for him, but relationship-wise, he hadn't exactly had the best of luck.
And it wasn't as if he were starting to second guess himself, just the timing. It was so close to Christmas and he wasn't entirely sure if Paris was even home at the moment. Maybe he should have called him ahead of time, or texted him...?
He lifted his hand to knock again, but Paris beat him to it this time, and Chris stared down at him as he opened the door.
Now what...?
"Uh... I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he wondered, glancing up and over Paris's shoulder, but the rest of the house seemed empty and a bit dark, except for the light from where the kitchen would be.
He wondered how strange this was, for him to show up at random at night, but he had more important things to worry about.
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Posted: Wed Dec 21, 2011 8:31 pm
Should he be surprised to see Chris standing outside on the front porch?
He was, somewhat. It wasn’t as if Chris had never seen his house before, or even been inside. He’d spent a couple of days there over Thanksgiving, though that was pretty much the extent of his visits, and Paris hadn’t exactly encouraged him to come by more often. He wouldn’t have minded if he had, but spending time together at his house had never seemed as easy as going out or staying at Chris’s apartment, and now that they weren’t even together anymore, it hadn’t seemed like such a necessity to introduce Chris to it until circumstances encouraged him to.
His stomach gave a fluttering turn as he looked up at Chris, slowly shaking his head at his question. “No, I was just washing the dishes,” he said, motioning behind himself toward the kitchen. “Dad’s asleep, so… there’s not much going on…”
Paris paused to peer at Chris carefully, trying to identify the expression on his face and determine his mood based on his body language, but it wasn’t as easy as usual. He couldn’t tell if it was because Chris was purposefully trying to hide something from him, or if Chris wasn’t quite sure of his mood himself.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. He looked him over to make sure he hadn’t been hurt again, but he was standing upright and didn’t appear to be in any pain, so he didn’t allow himself to start worrying.
Yet.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 7:55 am
And he was very grateful that Paris had put up him and his brother for a few days over the last holidays that passed. He hadn't exactly had many other places to go, unless he just stayed at his apartment the whole time.
His gaze was pulled away from the inside of the small house and down at Paris once more, not wanting him to start worrying about anything. "No, nothing's wrong," he said, although he knew he paused a little too long after the short comment. He was still wondering what he was doing, but pushed the thoughts to the back of his head as he shrugged lightly and placed his bare hands inside his pockets to keep them warm.
If Paris didn't know what his mood was, Chris definitely didn't think he knew enough about Paris to gage his emotions. Blue-green eyes held confusion and the hints of concern, and those were easy enough to recognize, but something about the way Paris looked at him always had him freezing in his tracks. As if he was some awesome person that Paris couldn't wait to see. Maybe it was just his ego talking, but he kept eye contact when he spoke again, saying the words slowly and with as much confidence as he could muster.
"I want you to come with me." He wanted to see if he could recognize any shift in what Paris was feeling, or even thinking, so he continued to study his expression, counting on Paris to let something slip unintentionally. He was so expressive that he'd be surprised if he didn't see anything.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 8:26 am
It occurred to him that he should have invited Chris inside right away. As it was, Paris stood on one side of the opened door with his hand still clutching the brass knob, while Chris remained on the other side under the porch light. He had flakes of snow in his hair, which melted to dampen it slightly.
Paris thought he should tell him to wear a hat when he went out into the cold, but nothing of the sort was ever verbalized.
Instead, he blinked in confusion at Chris’s comment. “Why?” he wondered, and then thought he should have asked him something different. “Where?”
He glanced around Chris to see his car parked along the curb. As far as he could tell, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, except that Chris never really came around his house requesting his company. That in itself was enough to alert Paris that something was a bit different than usual. He couldn’t tell what it was, but there was definitely something odd in the atmosphere. He looked back into Chris’s eyes to continue trying to discern his mood. Unfortunately, very little about them had changed.
Maybe there was a little determination in them. Maybe there was a little fear and discomfort, too. Paris could hardly tell and it was somewhat frustrating, though he did his best not to show it.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 8:45 am
Chris clenched his teeth together, as if bracing himself for whatever he'd say next. Where? It was a little more complicated than that. Or at least it was in his mind. He wasn't really sure how to read Paris's expression, although he seemed to be even more confused than before.
"Just come with me," he requested again, taking a step back and towards the stairs leading down from the porch. His hands he kept in his pockets, clutched into tight fists both against the cold and the feeling of being uncomfortable. Forcing himself to stand still instead of fidgeting hopefully made him look a bit more put together in his thoughts and actions, when in reality he was starting to get those damned butterflies in his stomach that came with anxiety.
He didn't want to answer Paris's questions. He hadn't decided if this was right, yet. He still wanted some time to make sure that this wasn't going to screw things up.
"Uh..." he paused, glancing Paris over in his short sleeved shirt and shorts, his eyes lingering a bit longer on his legs before snapping back up to his face. "Get a coat or something, first..." he said, not wanting Paris to freeze or anything stupid like that.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 1:30 pm
Paris stared at Chris strangely, watching him back away toward the stairs. He didn’t know how he wanted to respond. He knew he didn’t want to say “no”—he didn’t have much of a reason to; he was confused and slightly worried, but not wary about Chris’s intentions—but he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say “yes” either when he had no clue what Chris was planning.
He didn’t miss Chris’s eyes flicking down, but chose not to say anything about it. Doing so would have seemed out of place with the uncomfortably tense air between them.
“O-Okay,” he said, a bit hesitantly.
He left the door open as he turned to make his way back into the kitchen, scrounging around for a stray piece of paper and a pen in a drawer full of junk, scribbling a quick note for his father before turning off the radio. He left the note in the center of the coffee table before heading into his darkened bedroom to quickly grab a coat and scarf to yank on over his layered shirts, and a pair of boots to pull over the leggings he wore beneath his shorts.
He grabbed a hat and his purse on the way out, making sure he had both of his phones on him—and his pen, just in case—before meeting Chris out on the porch. Paris closed the front door behind him, locking it securely.
“Where are you taking me?” he tried again.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 1:48 pm
Chris waited outside of the house as Paris got his things, doing his best not to start pacing up and down the tiny porch. It wouldn't help, and if anything it would make him even more self conscious. But he knew he wanted to at least try to follow through with his plans... and hopefully not lose his nerve...
He glanced up again when Paris came back out with his winter gear and purse, but he didn't wait to make sure he locked the door before turning to head to his car. He hadn't bothered locking it since he'd been standing right there, but he also didn't wait to hold the door open for Paris either, before getting into the car himself. It wasn't like he always held the door open for him, anyway... just every now and then... when they'd been dating. Obviously it had been a while since that time, on top of his being completely distracted.
Part of him wondered if he should ignore the question Paris asked, but he wondered if he'd actually get into the car if he didn't say something.
"Just come on," he said through clenched teeth, glad that it was cold because he could blame the redness in his cheeks on that.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 1:58 pm
Not getting any sort of real answer didn’t help lessen his confusion, but Paris trotted down the stairs and the tiny walkway leading to the sidewalk, shutting the screechy chain-linked gate as he went. That Chris didn’t hold the door open for him hardly bothered him, though Chris’s haste got him paying a bit closer attention to him, noting how rushed and jerky in his movements had suddenly become.
He climbed in to the passenger seat without much comment, trying to decide if Chris seemed more annoyed by his questions, or somehow nervous. Maybe it was a little of both? He definitely didn’t seem as if he wanted to stand around waiting. The fact that Paris hadn’t immediately agreed to accompany him seemed to throw him off a little bit. He looked anxious.
Paris didn’t say anything else at first. He focused on making himself comfortable and pulled his seat-belt into place. Only then did he turn to look at Chris, noticing that his cheeks looked slightly colored. They hadn’t under the porch light, so Paris didn’t think it was from the cold.
“You’ve been sending me flowers,” he said.
He still had them all, collected in a vase of water on his dresser in his room, a blue rose for each performance—some left on their own, others with little notes attached. At first, he hadn’t wanted to let himself believe it had been Chris—because belief meant hope, and hope meant he could easily be let down—but there wasn’t anyone else it could be. Others knew about his tattoos, but he’d only ever told two people what they meant, and Ladon had always struck him as more the type to gift plushies than flowers.
That, and some of Chris’s notes had been rather obvious.
’Here’s to creating something beautiful.’
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 5:00 pm
If he hadn't been blushing before, he was definitely blushing now.
Chris kept his face adverted from Paris's gaze as he turned on the car, doing his best to focus on backing out of the drive way and to begin heading down the potentially icy streets. What the hell was he supposed to say though? 'Oh yeah, you caught me. I hope you like them'? No! That was stupid and it would have been pointless to try and be secretive about it.
Then again, he didn't have to send Paris anything. He could have pretended he didn't go to any performance and just played dumb. But the fact that Paris had apparently caught on so quickly, well... Chris thought he probably should have been more careful...
Or maybe he just hadn't thought about the chance of being cornered with it on tonight of all nights.
He thought about ignoring him. He did for a few long moments, paying very close attention to the road while working on getting out of the neighborhood.
"Sorry... Don't you like them?" he asked after swallowing down the anxiety that was making him tense and uncomfortable.
There was music playing faintly on the radio. Christmas songs of course, but the classical kind without the words. Chris hoped it would help keep him calm enough for the duration of the drive.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 5:34 pm
“Of course I like them,” Paris said.
The tenseness and the awkwardness bothered him. If he weren’t trying so hard to figure out something to say to incite some sort of conversation between them, he was sure the car ride would have passed in total silence—and not the comfortable kind, for once. Paris didn’t bother to ask where they were going again, though he hadn’t given up figuring it out for himself. He looked out the front windshield and the passenger side window in an attempt to examine their surroundings as Chris drove, but nothing seemed to stand out.
“Your mom said you were at my first show,” he commented, for lack of anything better to say. “I didn’t think you’d come. I’m glad you did. Did… did you like it?”
He knew ballet wasn’t really Chris’s thing, but he hoped there’d been something for him to enjoy in it. Otherwise he’d feel as if he hadn’t done a good enough job.
Every once in a while, Paris shifted his gaze over to his ex-boyfriend. Chris’s jaw was tense. Paris could see the stiff line of it as the streetlights threw their yellow glow through the car every time they passed beneath one, and the other lights that shone in the city—traffic lights and neon signs—glittered in the gold of Chris’s eyes. Chris’s mouth was pressed into a firm line. His hands gripped tightly to the wheel, and he sat rigidly in his seat, his back and shoulders as tense and unmovable as the set of his jaw.
Paris wanted to reach over to take one of his hands in comfort, but he didn’t think it would be welcome.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 7:24 pm
At the moment, Chris wished he had been completely alone. Second thoughts were fighting against his determination to follow through, and he didn't like it. He hated having to fight himself over something, especially when no one else would understand. Well, they might understand, but it wasn't as though Chris was ever going to explain things to them. It was all too complicated to begin with.
"Of course she did," Chris growled lightly though his teeth, his face darkening in color. Sometimes he wondered if his mother did it on purpose. Let something 'slip' when she knew that he (and others) couldn't possibly hold it against her. She tended to be a bit of an air head as it was, so how could they possibly be mad at her when she would respond with sad eyes and pleas for forgiveness?
But Paris's hesitation in his question had Chris slowly relaxing. No, it wasn't so much as relaxing as it was distracting him from his own issues. He became less tense at the very least, hoping that his outward discomfort wasn't causing Paris to start getting self-conscious about his performance.
"Yeah..." he said after a little while, soft and reflective. "Yeah, you were great." It was the truth. He could tell how much work Paris had been putting into his dancing. How much the entire cast had worked on the production. It had definitely not been a waste of time to see. "You're really good, Paris... I'd never seen you dance before so... it was nice... I was impressed," he admitted, glancing over to to the passenger side before focusing back on the road again. He was sure his cheeks were still red, and it bothered him that he blushed so easily over the dumbest s**t. He didn't usually blush, but when he was called out on something, or put on the spot...
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 7:38 pm
Paris didn’t blush, neither at the compliments nor at the fact that Chris had been impressed, but he did smile softly and shift a little in his seat. His stomach gave another little flutter and his heart felt like it grew a little bigger in his chest. It was an odd feeling, and not one he’d experienced around anyone but Chris.
He wasn’t sure what that meant. He never wasted much time questioning it. Chris had always been different, so he supposed it was merely that.
“I’ve only got one more show left,” he said, trying to keep the conversation going. “At least for the Nutcracker. The company’s agreed to keep me on for a little longer, at least for the rest of the season. Next is Sleeping Beauty, which is one of my favorites. Then Giselle. I… haven’t really decided whether or not I’m going to keep with it after the spring. I mean, I’m gonna keep dancing, but… well, there are other options, and I’ve sort of been considering them recently…”
He was rambling. He hated when he rambled, especially since he knew all the ballet talk tended to go over Chris’s head, but he had to say something. Silence bothered him more than the rambling did. He’d take the sound of his own voice over the sound of nothing any day.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, trying to think of something to talk about that Chris could actually respond to more than smiling and nodding along. “You don’t usually come by the house at random,” he pointed out. He eyed him carefully but didn’t notice any immediate changes. “Can you at least hint at where you’re taking me?”
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 7:50 pm
It was actually nice to hear Paris talk. It kept him busy from giving into his own thoughts and just focus on the sound of Paris's voice. He nodded lightly, knowing very well about how there was one last performance, and Paris should know that he knew as well. How else would he know when to get the roses to him?
Wow, really Chris? Now that he thought about it, it was probably really lame that he'd gotten Paris roses. But they were so symbolic to him that it had to be better than just anything else, right? He wasn't much of a romantic, and much less of a poet. He supposed he could do semi-romantic things every so often, but taking a date to a nice restaurant was about the best he could do, really. He'd never be caught dead saying flowery, poetic stuff.
When the conversation went back to him and where they were going, Chris grew tense again, his small smile fading and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he stared ahead at the road. They were coming close to their destination and... since he'd been asked something so direct about where they were going, he decided to drive right on by.
s**t... was he losing his nerve or was he just being difficult? Even he couldn't tell...
"Nowhere..." he muttered under his breath, wondering how far he should keep going before circling back around.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 8:02 pm
“Clearly we’re going somewhere,” Paris insisted.
He didn’t notice Chris driving by wherever they were going. He didn’t even know what and where their destination was, so even though he kept looking out the window every once in a while, he couldn’t figure out what Chris meant by dragging him out like this. He was seeing some very impressive Christmas lights whenever they passed by a residential area, but other than that there wasn’t much of anything interesting to look at.
“If we were going nowhere, you wouldn’t have dragged me out at nine o’clock at night. I don’t know what you’re being so secretive about,” he said, turning from the window back to Chris. He saw that his ex had grown tense again and only became more confused.
He considered that Chris might be trying to surprise him with something, but what that could be he had no clue, and why he would even bother he knew even less. They were friends, yes, but since September there’d always been that line there—they could care for and help one another and draw close when they needed comfort, but anything else that had made up their relationship before was gone.
Or had been. Chris hadn’t exactly taken him out anywhere since they’d been dating, and right now that seemed to be what he was doing.
“Is something on your mind?” he wondered, trying to get him to open up without being too blatant with his questions. “Is something bothering you?”
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