|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu May 31, 2012 11:28 pm
Paris had never been in such an insane bathroom before.
Oh, he’d been to the Gallos’ beach house once already over Mother’s Day weekend, so he was already aware of the extent of the decorative insanity, but he’d been in denial during his last visit and had gone through his stay there trying to pretend as if Chris’s family didn’t own such a place, because it was laughable how far out of his league it was. He hadn’t explored many of the rooms, just the one he and Chris had slept in, the kitchen, and the basement where all the entertainment was. The rest of the house was too big and too fancy and just… insane.
That was really the only word he could think of to adequately describe it.
Take the bathrooms, for example. Paris had grown up in a small house sharing a single tiny bathroom with his parents. The Gallos’ beach house had more bathrooms than he would ever know what to do with, each fancier than the last. This included the en suite in the room he was sharing with Chris.
He could only stare as he lounged in the tub, surrounded by sweet smelling bubbles, with his hair piled on top of his head while the radio crooned a quiet tune. The tub itself was situated by a large window overlooking the ocean—which he rather liked, though he couldn’t see much now that the sun had set. What amazed him about the whole thing was that the tub was sunk into a marble dais, and there were gold fixtures and columns and a chandelier he suspected might be made of crystal hanging from the ceiling.
Why there needed to be a chandelier in the bathroom was beyond him.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 12:06 am
Chris was so used to places like his house and the beach house that sometimes he forgot how foreign it could be for others. It wasn't because he was ignorant of the fact that he was rather well off, financially, though! He just... didn't put that much effort in reminding himself how different it was, compared to everyone else. Well, not everyone else, since he was obviously used to things others in his family's social class would be used to, but for those like Paris and Ladon and Billy, he was sure it was something they just needed to get used to.
Or maybe he just hoped they were as adaptable as he felt he was.
The day had gone by pleasantly. A day out on the beach and in the pool, with the promise of breaking out the jet skiis the next day. The evening was spent down in the basement, playing pool and table tennis and a various other games after dinner. But now that the sun had set and they were all feeling tired from being out in the sun for too long, it was time to retreat to their designated rooms for the week.
Chris's room didn't change, though. He always stayed in the same room when he was at the beach. It was his room, after all. Light blue and white made up most of the room's colors, but the furniture was stained wood, and accents of red and gold and navy made it rather nautical in theme. He hadn't decorated it. That was all his mother's doing, from the bed comforter to the jars of shells that lined the top shelf of a bookcase.
It was comfortable, and Chris felt at home there.
He didn't bother knocking as he pushed the bathroom door open. While he'd hesitated before deciding to enter, he doubted his presence there would be completely unwanted. Paris seemed rather content that day, and while moments had felt a bit awkward to Chris, it was probably because everyone was running around in shorts and he'd caught himself staring at legs way too often.
"I didn't want to wait until you were done," he said, shutting the door behind him out of habit. He knew Paris would be bathing, but he felt gross and wanted to shower. And while he could have easily gone to one of the other eight bathrooms, he had all his shower supplies in this one. "You don't mind, do you?" he figured he'd ask out of politeness, but still shed his teeshirt while waiting for an answer, tossing it somewhere close to the hamper but not quite making it in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 11:58 am
Paris stopped staring at his surroundings to watch his boyfriend as Chris came into the room, not immediately uncomfortable but also not quite as delighted to see him as he would have been had things still been going normally between them. Their conversation a week ago and Paris’s subsequent departure from the apartment was still very fresh in his mind. It hurt more than he was willing to admit. None of the heartache or the lessened sense of self-worth had gone away in the days that followed. It made certain encounters somewhat tense until they figured out how to act around one another now.
Not wanting to risk widening the divide that had come between them, Paris chose to act as normal as he possibly could—not much different than he used to, but often with a caution or a reserve he hadn’t shown before. Chris wanted his space, and Paris was intent on giving it to him.
“Why would I mind?” he asked, shifting into a more comfortable position in the tub. The water sloshed around his shoulders and the base of his neck. He sat with one foot planted on the floor of the tub, his bent and raised knee just visible above the surface of the bubble-filled water.
He let himself watch as Chris began to undress, unwilling to shift his eyes away when he’d never had to before. This—sitting there and sharing a bathroom without embarrassment as they each took care of their own business—was natural to him. There was a level of calm and contentedness in it even now, that he and Chris were comfortable enough around each other to share such an intimate space.
Paris suspected he’d even pick up Chris’s shirt and place it into the hamper properly once he was done with his bath. They were, after all, creatures of habit.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 12:19 pm
He shrugged in response, not sure why Paris would mind, but he'd wanted to ask, either way. Chris figured he could have waited to shower once Paris was out of the bathroom, but after going all day without really scrubbing off the sand and salt that had dried in his hair and on his skin, he didn't really like the idea of sitting around and waiting. Hell, he was still wearing the bathing suit he'd pulled on that morning.
They were tossed in the general direction of the laundry basket, joining his shirt on the floor, as he stepped into the large shower and turned one of the sides on. He'd never needed the use of both sides to the double shower, and figured it was in there just because, so it typically went ignored. He tried not to glance over at Paris too much, especially when he realized his boyfriend was watching him. It didn't bother him, although he couldn't help but wonder what the thoughts going through Paris's head were. Surely he was still upset about the strain in their relationship, and he had to still be upset about his father... but Chris had been glad to see that he was at least having fun at the beach.
It was good seeing Paris freed from so much of the stress he was usually under, for whatever reason.
"Do you think Ladon's having a good time?" he asked, figuring he should make some kind of conversation while in the same room. No, that wasn't it. He wanted to talk to Paris... he was just trying to come up with excuses to make it okay. "Are you having a good time?" he added as he reached for the knob to turn the water on, quickly adjusting the temperature and standing to the side as the cold water was flushed from the system.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 12:35 pm
Most of what Paris was thinking was completely innocent. There were plenty of things still resting heavily in his mind—his father of course, as well as his mother, and now this thing with Chris. That wasn’t to say he didn’t entertain a few less depressing thoughts. He couldn’t watch Chris undress without having one or two risqué images in mind, but he was better at behaving and keeping them to himself than some people might expect.
“Yeah, I think he’s okay,” Paris replied. “It’s not like we’ve been here for very long, but it sure is nice to get away for a while, even if it’s only for a week. I’ve been looking forward to it. Could be a little less awkward, but with Billy around I guess that’s asking for too much. It’s not terrible, but…”
It seemed unlikely that he would ever get over the negativity and resentment. He didn’t usually, not when he was made to feel like he was worth nothing. He thought things like that enough on his own without other people confirming it for him. That sort of a grudge was hard to let go of, especially with additional factors (Ladon, in this case) coming in to play as well.
Paris refrained from finishing his comment, nor did he voice any of the other thoughts swirling around in his head. He’d yet to fill Chris in on the entirety of that story, and now didn’t seem like a particularly good time to get into it.
Instead he stared through the glass to absently watch Chris in the shower, occasionally humming or singing along with the radio to keep his mind out of the gutter.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 1:05 pm
Still unsure of his opinion of Billy, Chris decided not to push Paris too much into explaining his distrust of the other young man. There were certain things that Chris didn't like about him, particularly his first jump to judgement when they'd met, but he was doing his best to remain open about him, especially for Ladon's sake. Ladon was most likely the reason for Paris's patience with the silver haired teen as well.
It was a relief to step under the water after such a long day, and Chris tilted his head back, face towards the spray, able to taste the salt being washed off. He would probably wash his hair at least twice, just to make sure it was all out, but for now it was good to not feel the dry film on his face.
Being in the same room with Paris was difficult sometimes. The guilt of what he'd done ate away at him, and even though they'd both decided on what they wanted to try with their relationship, it didn't make him feel any better.
"What did you think about going out to dinner some night this week? Or a couple nights. I don't want you to have to worry about cooking every night," he said once he finally reached for the bottle of shampoo, glancing over to Paris as he squeezed some in his hand and went to work on scrubbing out the ocean water. "There's a few restaurants close by... They don't just have seafood, either... I think mom sometimes gets a salad with her food." Since... apparently he thought Paris ate only salads, which he knew wasn't true at all.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 1:33 pm
Paris didn’t know what he’d ever done to make people think he ate like a rabbit. He obviously wasn’t privy to the thoughts that crossed Chris’s mind, but the seemingly hapless comment about salad was enough for him to get an idea.
He frowned a bit as he took a moment to think about it and wondered just how often people looked at him and thought his eating habits were an issue. He didn’t think they were—or at least he didn’t think they were as bad of one as some people implied—but the perception bothered him, especially when he was putting so much effort into acting like life didn’t get him down as much as it did.
“I don’t mind cooking,” he said. “Sometimes it’s relaxing, but it’s not like we have a lot of food here. There’s not really much of a point in cramming stuff into the fridge and cabinets if we’re only going to be here a week, so… I mean, if you want to go out, I don’t mind.”
He was trying to relax as much as possible while he was here, before they had to go back to the stress and the dangers of the city. Coming to the beach was a better escape than anything else. It was so much easier to pretend that everything was okay here. It was warm and peaceful and (so far) without the constant drama that seemed to follow him around at home. He could be content here and not worry that it was about to slip away.
“This doesn’t bother you at all, does it? Being on vacation together?” he asked, though he thought better of it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Chris could very easily say something to put him in a bad mood.
To distract himself from that possibility, Paris tried to focus on the music drifting over from the radio, mumbling along to some of the words, “… I’m so excited… I’m in too deep…”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 1:57 pm
As long as Paris was fine with cooking, then he wouldn't argue about it. He would help out where he could, but he was pretty sure Paris would kick him out of the kitchen if he tried to cook anything. There were always sandwiches, though! And he was perfectly capable of cutting up a block of cheese to toss into a bag to take with them to the beach... a total of maybe fifty yards away.
Chris shook his head almost immediately, not needing to think about it too much to respond. "No... should it?" Should he be bothered by being on vacation with Paris, one of his closest friends who just happened to be his boyfriend? "I don't mind spending time with you, Paris," he tried reassuring him, although it reminded him how much of a jerk he was, and he probably shouldn't be taking a question like that so lightly.
"Does... does it bother you?" he asked nervously in return. He could tell that Paris was keeping himself distant at times, but he supposed that was because it was what he'd asked for. Chris had been the one to want space, and Paris was giving that to him. He absently rubbed a bar of soap between his hand and a squishy luffa his mother had convinced him to use since he'd been young, wondering if this was just... a little too much too soon.
It wasn't as if they'd broken up, though... right? They were just... keeping an open relationship. There was room to both be together and room to not worry about serious commitments or things like... loving or being loved, especially when it could very well be one-sided, that deeply.
He opened his mouth to say something else. Perhaps to say how strange it was that none of Paris's things were in his apartment any more, but he'd been the one to have him move out... Maybe to comment on how he could still smell whatever he sprayed on himself, or to ask what the name of the scent was, but that might cause Paris to feel led on... Or maybe how he missed him being there, missed not having to worry about making himself dinner or lunch or breakfast, and always having company, but that just sounded like Chris missing being able to take advantage of him and his willingness to do whatever he could to make Chris's life easier...
"Anna misses you," he said lamely instead, immediately placing the soap back in its holder and breaking eye contact as he mentally kicked himself for being dumb.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 2:12 pm
He wasn’t entirely disappointed by the answer, but it wasn’t all that encouraging either. Mostly he had absolutely no idea where he stood. He could have asked and tried to make an issue out of it, demanded an answer until he was satisfied with the one he got and his new place in Chris’s life. Somehow he didn’t think that would help the situation at all, though, so he kept it to himself.
He was supposed to be relaxing. He couldn’t do that when he was worrying about all the things he should be trying to push out of his mind. They’d still be there when it was time to leave and return to life.
Paris shook his head in response to Chris’s questions but didn’t trust himself enough to speak yet. It was a tricky subject. He shouldn’t have even brought it up. He wanted things to be okay—or at least seem to be okay, whether or not they really were. Chris still cared about him. They could still be friends. They could still be more than friends if they let themselves. This wasn’t over entirely. Not yet. Not until Paris threw in the towel and surrendered or Chris decided on things one way or the other.
“I miss Anna, too,” he said. It wasn’t untrue, but it also wasn’t what he really had on his mind.
He wondered if there was more to it than that, if Chris’s comment had been meant to mask something else—an “I miss you” that would have been met with frustration and disbelief before the acknowledged “I miss you, too.”
Unwilling to go there, Paris was at a loss for something else to say. Eventually he decided it would be better to change the subject and blurted out, “Mom’s pregnant.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 2:33 pm
He wished he knew what Paris was thinking. Sometimes he went without responding for too long for Chris to believe that he really had nothing to say... Paris was just... too good at hiding how he felt about things — passionate in his emotions, yet he knew how to conceal them as well. It was frustrating to no end. Maybe if he knew if Paris really did love him as he expected, then it would be easier to come to terms with it, but since neither of them knew where they stood with the other, it was just... difficult.
Chris sputtered in surprise when Paris announced that his mother was pregnant. His immediate thought went to Paris's father, but knew that couldn't be possible. There was another guy in the picture, anyway. Or at least he was pretty sure he'd overheard his mother talking about some guy Paris's mom was going to be living with.
"Since when??" was really all he could think to ask, although he supposed it really wasn't that surprising, not if he thought about it. Sure, Paris's dad and her ex-husband had just passed away, but that didn't mean she wasn't young and still willing to have children... or maybe it was an accident? Chris knew all about accidents... both he and Peter were accidents.
"Are... are you okay?" was the voiced thought, immediately following his first comment. After everything that had been going on in Paris's life, was he really going to be okay with another kid wandering around. "Are you going to be okay?" he tried a more specific approach, not sure just how much Paris wanted to talk about it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 4:18 pm
“Since January, apparently,” Paris said.
He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling and rest more appropriately. It was getting a bit harder to watch Chris anyway the way the steam fogged up the glass.
He hadn’t thought he’d want to talk about it. His mom’s pregnancy was more recent than this thing with Chris—or at least his knowledge of it was—and that was recent enough without another cause of stress diverting his attention. Yet he found it comforting to be able to say something about it, to witness Chris’s surprise and think his boyfriend might side with him on the issue.
Not that he was on any clear side. It was happening whether he liked it or not, and he was trying to be okay with that.
“I don’t know. I’m still kind of angry,” he admitted. “Like, I know it’s not really my choice, but… I just don’t feel like it’s necessary, I guess. And especially now it just seems like a total mess, and I know what happened with… with dad… it’s not really something that can be planned for, but… I don’t know. I think it’s more trouble than it’s worth. I mean, she’s got me. What does she really need another kid for now? She says I just don’t understand and maybe I will one day, but I think I’m allowed to not like it.”
Paris sighed to himself, almost in relief. This was one of the things he liked most about being with Chris—talking about the things that bothered him with someone who might not understand, but at least cared enough to hear him out. Granted, there were a lot of things bothering him now that he didn’t talk about, but this wasn’t one of the ones he felt the need to keep hidden.
“What did you think when your mom had Peter? You weren’t that old then, but did it bother you at all?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 5:04 pm
Chris remained silent as Paris went on to explain himself and how he was feeling, not wanting to disrupt him until he was ready for a response. He wished there were more things recently that Paris would talk to him about, and the lack of discussion about his father or even his losing weight and the running mishap threw into even larger relief how much wasn't being talked about.
But that was a battle for another day. Right now Chris was more than happy to talk to Paris about the fact that his mother was pregnant and he was no longer going to be an only child. His father was gone, and it was almost as if he was being replaced by some new child in his mother's life.
"It's not really your choice, no, but I can't believe that your mom didn't even ask what you felt about it... Isn't she moving here? I thought that was because she wanted to be with you," he said with a frown through the fogged glass. He tried using his hand to wipe away some of the condensation so he could see Paris again, but the steam quickly covered up his work.
"I was seven when Mom told me about Peter," he said and then paused to shrug to himself, "That was also when I found out I'd been a 'special miracle' and that the new baby was going to be the same." He'd emphasized the words, and while a hint of bitterness was in his voice, it was not intended for his mother. If anything, it was his desire to be better than he was that had him question just how 'special' he was.
"Peter and I were 'mistakes', is what she meant to say. She tried fluffing it up for my benefit, but... I don't know. It bothered me that she let it happen twice." He knew he was being selfish and holding onto things that didn't matter any more, but there was always that nervous feeling of how close he'd been to not existing.
"Michael was the only planned one of us three. I don't think he was very happy at first when he found out about Peter, but he changed his mind when mom decided she wanted to stop moving around so much. He got to go to a single high school and play ball, whereas it was difficult to join a team when we arrived halfway through a season."
But... that was getting into a little too much information. Stuff he was sure wasn't all that interesting to hear about.
"Maybe give her a chance to see if she'll hold onto her word and spend time with you... if not, then you have every right to be upset. Maybe I'm just insensitive, but it feels like she's rubbing it in your face that you didn't have everything you wanted, growing up."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 5:40 pm
Paris didn’t mind that Chris had taken to rambling. He could ramble on and on himself sometimes. Besides, he sort of liked hearing about Chris’s childhood. Aside from the pictures Momma Gallo had scattered around the house and a few photo albums she’d shown him, Paris didn’t know much about Chris’s life prior to Destiny City—only that he’d moved around a lot due to his father’s career. It was almost weird thinking of Chris as a little kid, or seeing the pictures of him as a dorky, scrawny Azure nerd when he was so used to the tall, brawny Chris of the present.
Amused by Chris’s tale, Paris laughed to himself and couldn’t help but think it sounded a bit bitter.
“You think you were a mistake?” he asked. He rolled his eyes and didn’t know if it was because of Chris’s sullen response, his own unpleasant feelings on the matter, or his mother’s decision to go through with it in the first place.
Paris had never stopped to question his existence, except perhaps a few times when he’d been younger and allowed himself to wonder why his mother had even bothered to have him if she was just going to leave. He understood that part of it a lot better now, enough to give her a second chance and be sure in the knowledge that she’d loved him all along. But he’d never stopped to question how close he might have been to not existing at all. His mother had never mentioned anything along those lines, so he’d never considered the thought that not having him might have ever crossed her mind back then. He wondered if he should have, if it was a naïve assumption to make.
“If you were I definitely was. At least your parents were old enough. My mom had to go and be a dumbass and get knocked up when she was eighteen. With an older guy, too. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t on purpose. They’d only known each other for, like, maybe five or six months before then. Honestly, I don’t know what she was thinking. I don’t know what either of them were thinking.”
He doubted he’d ever ask. The circumstances of his birth and the beginning of his parents’ relationship wasn’t something he usually liked to talk about, probably because he was afraid he’d hear something he didn’t want to.
“I don’t doubt that she wants to spent time with me,” he continued. He thought that much was obvious with the way she’d been hounding him and hovering over him all the time. “I just don’t know why she’d want another one. And like this? I mean, her baby daddy’s a nice guy and all, and I guess they seem like okay friends, but there are just so many things that could go wrong. And I honestly never pictured her as the mother type. She’s okay with me, but… she’s not like your mom. At least with your mom you can tell when she really wants something because she goes all out and gets all into it. My mom’s just… I don’t know…”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 6:25 pm
Chris frowned sadly to himself as he listened to Paris talk about himself and his parents. He was right, though... What did he have to complain about when his parents were at least old enough and financially ready to have another child, intended or not...? It wasn't as if they had to debate what would be best, but to just let it happen the two times it did.
Finished with his shower, Chris turned off the water and pushed the shower door open in order to grab one of the towels hanging up on the wall. He quickly patted himself down, but didn't really worry about drying off completely just yet, and instead wrapped the towel around his waist and turned towards where Pais was, still in the tub. He climbed the first step to the marble dais-like home for the round tub, but turned to take a seat on the edge. It would be easier to talk to Paris like this, rather than through the shower water and glass barrier.
"Well... I'm glad your mom was a dumbass and got knocked up," he said with a small grin as he leaned back with one arm on the tub's edge, his free hand lifting to wipe his damp hair from his face. He'd made the comment with the intention of it being a light hearted joke, and hoped Paris would know that was how he'd meant it. They were obviously there today because of their parents' mistakes and decisions to follow through with having them, so... maybe it really was okay in the end.
"And yeah, your mom is young enough for my mom to be her mom," he said with a small grimace, although there really wasn't anything wrong with that. His mom had decided to wait and Paris's mom was a little more... not ready, but willing to try.
"It'll be okay, Paris... besides, I'm pretty sure my mom wants to adopt you or something. I know it's not the same, but it's not like you're going to be abandoned." It was the truth, even when he forgot how he'd already kicked Paris out of his apartment and sent him to live with his mom, it was still never his intention to abandon him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 6:41 pm
That was the point of the matter, really—that he was afraid of being abandoned. Maybe his mom wasn’t going to walk out again, but a new kid was a big responsibility and Paris didn’t want to have to share the attention when he’d only settled his differences with his mother half a year ago. He was still getting used to having her back. He was still getting used to seeing her more than a few times a year. Now he had to worry about some other kid coming into the picture and potentially getting in the way?
He thought it was probably immature of him to think things like that, because it wasn’t like it was the kid’s fault and he certainly wasn’t incapable of working around it if and when he had to, but he also thought he was allowed to be a little selfish in a situation like this.
It’d been ten years since he’d had such a good relationship going with his mom. He didn’t think anyone could blame him for wanting her to himself for a while.
Paris managed to return a smile, looking up at Chris from his place in the tub and allowing himself to enjoy the proximity.
“I’m glad your mom likes me so much,” he said. He meant to keep Chris’s attempt at light-heartedness going, but he did spare a thought for how lucky he was that Momma Gallo was so damned accepting. “It’d really suck if she hated me, but you and Michael and your dad are out of the house so much she probably gets really lonely, and it’s just not the same going shopping or getting her hair done with Peter.”
He liked Chris’s family, almost as much as he liked Chris himself. He might miss being in Chris’s apartment, but staying with Momma and Peter was probably the next best thing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
