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 Posted: Sat Oct 01, 2016 5:04 pm
too long to the weekend
Thorne fidgets.
It's not often that he does it so openly, so abruptly, but he does anyways. Chris has always been an anomaly in his life, a shock, a change from the mute way of living he'd had before. Like being dropped out of orbit, or kicked from a sauna into ice water. Today was no different, and Thorne nearly wants to fight Chris for it.
But he can't. Instead he pads doggedly after the other man, back straight, eyes cutting across the campus of the school. His breath bleeds from him in sharp, slow bursts, the only tell-tale sign to a stranger that he might be in an anxious mood. After all, he hadn't stepped foot in any actual educational building since finishing college, and he hadn't expected to ever again.
Not to mention - Chris had dressed him as well.
The button-down shirt was warm from the dryer still, ironed flat and fitted perfectly. The only sloping curve of tattoo on him that showed was his neck, right up against the curve of his jawline, and the rose right at the edge of his downy night-dark hair.
He had swapped his contacts out for the thick rimmed glasses that he sometimes wore when his eyes ached from a long day of use, and his hair, while not necessarily done up, was certainly more tame than it usually was.
Still, he couldn't help looking at Chris, eyes wild and bright beneath the glass.
"When you said you would help me blend in," He couldn't help drawling, "I thought you meant to avert gazes. Not drag them to me." It was a strange question burning unsaid in his voice: do I look alright? Am I out of place A strange diversion from his usual self-confidence. School settings made him weak.
And all of these stares weren't doing anything for his sanity, either.( total wordcount: 2371 (312+328+567+546+213+180+125+100) )
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Posted: Sat Oct 01, 2016 11:56 pm
too long to the weekend
This was a terrible idea.
It was obvious now, hindsight was always twenty-twenty as they said, but before it all Chris thought it'd be vaguely okay. He had accepted a job at the university as a TA, stepping in for a class while they tried to find another to fill the job seeing as the grad student before had dropped out. Poe had practically begged him and while Chris did derive some pain from making his adviser suffer, he decided he was going to try and give him at least one good semester before he went back to torturing him as usual with his lack of sleep and constant schedule filled with teaching. It was only for a month at the most, so he had accepted the job and gone on with life.
The thing was though, that Chris had to actually show up to the class in order to get paid and be able to do his job.
Chris could handle going alone to it most of the time, getting there and back without problem. But today, it seemed like class was going to run a little late and Chris wanted Thorne with him because they needed to go somewhere after class. It'd be easier if they were in the same area after all and it wasn't like Chris would get in trouble for bringing Thorne along - no one really cared what the TA did so long as stuff got done in a reasonable time table.
The only problem was Thorne was very much a person who grabbed peoples attention and it seemed that Chris' attempts to make him blend in only made him stand out as what he truly was - completely and utterly gorgeous.
Not to say he wasn't in his usual style, because Chris had been drawn to him in that. Had been a moth to the flame, sucked in by Thorne's warm gaze and nice laugh and the way he didn't judge. He was beautiful, all rough edges and street wear and things that were opposite of Chris and he had seen it and loved it. But it seemed that in clothing that was a little more plain, a little more tame, what normally should have dulled someone made Thorne more gorgeous.
The glasses, for instance, drew attention to his eyes, framed his face perfectly to show off the angle of his jaw. The shirt showed off his figure, his hair being a little more neat was a great addition.
All in all, he looked like that one hot TA every freshman had to deal with and Chris loved and hated it in equal measure.
Chris looked back at Thorne, his gaze amused. "It was," He said finally, taking a glance at the eyes on them. Gazes dropped as Chris put his eyes on them, heads turned away, and he knew that people were wondering his relation to Thorne. Something thick, heavy, and hot burned inside him. "You are however, extraordinarily good looking and it seems the world has caught on even with you in clothing like this. I don't think it'll be like this in class though."
He offered a hand out to Thorne, palm up, easy to grasp. "Come on, we'll be late to the class if we don't hurry up. The building's just right there."
[wc: 552]
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Posted: Sun Oct 02, 2016 12:10 am
too long to the weekend
Another head turned his way, and Thorne, normally able to turn a warm smile or an oblivious eye to attention like this on the street, couldn't help feeling his ears warm. School had been a judgment zone for him. Of course it wasn't shocking that he still held onto some of that self-consciousness from his days spent as a lanky, too-tall child with skin two shades too dark to be tan and wild, wild eyes.
His father hadn't been an a** enough to send him to boarding school, but prep school was just as hellish, and it had only evolved into a nightmare with every grade going on up, the pressure always sticky on him to be better, to do more, to get good grades. Still, the flame in him that burned wildly at the attention guttered a bit when Chris spoke.
He fumbled with the heavy rim of his glasses, felt their solid weight against the bridge of his nose. He felt like a liar, a wolf in sheeps clothing. He wondered what everyone thought of Chris as here, and selfishly wondered if anyone ever got him to look back. The sleeping, possessive creature in him unwound and whistled a low soft tune. Thorne tried to swallow the sound, tried to swallow that part of him that felt like a chain.
"Does that mean you have taken notice too?" Thorne responded, and turned his head to look at Chris, his eyes bright and wild beyond his glasses, night-dark bangs sweeping over them. "If that is the case, then I've finally done something right. But I think you're lying - " he laughed, a warm sound, "I think it's just the glasses. They make me look like a big gay nerd, Wren said it herself."
He tilted his head at the hand, and the smile on his face grew wider, warmer still.
"Alright, alright, teacher," he said, and took it, winding his fingers with Chris's easily, "Lead me."
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Posted: Sun Oct 02, 2016 1:37 am
too long to the weekend
He wondered what Thorne thought of the attention, if he thrived in it or if he wished it would go away. The gazes were started to return, less cautious of Chris' blatant staring back now that he wasn't doing much but talking to Thorne. Their curiosity overwhelmed the judgement from Chris, their desperate knowledge to know what their relationship was, if someone could approach him.
Jealousy coiled thick around Chris' heart, froze him in place, cruel and thick and hot.
Mine, he wanted to scream, mine, he is mine. Don't come, don't look, you won't have a chance. But it wasn't his place to say it, wasn't his place to even so much as think something like that really. Because for all he knew, Thorne wanted a girl, someone soft and sweet and didn't have at least 3 inches height on him and more when he wore heels.
He looked back at Thorne, looked at those glasses and his hair and he wanted so much he could barely breath. He wanted so badly to wrap his hands around Thorne and have him be his, be his completely and utterly, in every way. But instead he swallows it down, gives Thorne a beautiful grin, wild, happy.
"Yes I have," Chris answers, with a laugh, "Long before this outfit though. The first time we met I noticed - you are utterly gorgeous you know." He rolls his eyes, snorts at Thorne's answer. "This is far from the first thing you've done right, more like the millionth. It started with meeting me you know." Chris gives Thorne a gentle nudge, his smile soft now, encouraging. "The glasses make you look cute, studious. Really show off your eyes and the angles of your face, if we want to get particular about it."
His face heated as he realized what he said and he ducked his head, squeezed Thorne's hand tightly as he turned to pull them onwards through campus.
"Of course," Chris answered easily, his footsteps quick and sure. He wasn't even paying attention to anyone else now, world focused around Thorne's warmth and the destination they had to go. He walked quickly, pulling them through to the building quick enough, through the automatic doors and up to the classroom. They weren't late but close to class starting and it was why Chris dragged them into the class quickly, up to the front and side to find a pair of seats.
The class was big, full of freshmen for some history class that was basically university required, which left prime seats at the front as everyone was scared of the professor. What Chris didn't know is that he was about to fulfill the college cliche of the hot TA by bringing in Thorne.
[wc: 458]
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Posted: Sun Oct 02, 2016 3:31 pm
too long to the weekend
Thorne hummed softly as Chris talked to him. He felt like he was moored by the other in a sea, in a storm. There was an anchor holding him in place. Thorne could feel the undertow pressing up beneath his feet, a rug waiting to be pulled, could feel the waves lapping against him, an invisible pressure.
He wanted to stay close to Chris, and when the glances darted between them, Thorne felt a sleeping thing turn over in him, hungry and possessive. He wanted to lean closer to Chris, did lean closer to Chris, with every curious, furtive glance that went their way and lingered. He wanted to say, yes, this, this is mine and I am his. He wanted everyone to know. He wondered if they stared at Chris too, alone, and the thought itself made something sour fester in the back of his throat.
He wanted to say, this is mine, and mine, and mine. And it's alright if you stare, but don't touch.
But for all he knew, someone in this crowd was exactly what Chris wanted in his life. Some pretty girl or handsome boy, someone in his own circles, his own path of life. Not Thorne though, an artist with no roots, no real trail to follow back home. He would steal what little time he could though, selfishly, hungrily. He would steal whatever Chris gave him, and wear it for the rest of this world to see.
Thorne looks over at Chris as he speaks and can't help a startled bubble of laughter rising in his throat. It is slow and melodic, raw and conquering in the attention it brings. He smiles at the other, his cheeks warm beneath the dark rim of his his glasses. He wants to pull the other closer, closer, just to hear the rest of the world speak and point and watch and know.
He wants.
"You really think so?" He can't help asking, and the sound is bashful and soft and unsure. He might fill the hot TA caricature, but those who get too close would know he is a gentle giant walking. He is something warm and comfortable in Chris's arms. "The tattoos - the scars - they don't scare you away?"
He pauses and hums a sweet-soft note. He leans closer, bumps their shoulders, lets himself rest against Chris as they move, and the gesture is so casual and second nature that it nearly makes him wonder why they catch so many people's attention. So many students bursting away in clusters to laugh and joke and converse.
"Of course, of course," Thorne hums, and looks at Chris, eyes dancing and dangerously devious for a quick second, reserved only for the blond, "What else could you get particular about, teacher? If you'd like a closer look, I could show you around."
He follows Chris into the classroom amiably though, his entire body still wired and the nerves still heating him through with anxiety. But Thorne only throws the class a smile as he enters with the other man. He settles with Chris too, wherever he puts him, and feels the buzz of the classroom settle as the clock ticks closer to the start of class.
Hopefully, he thinks, leaning against Chris, this won't be such a terrible experience after all.
The only problem is - the eyes aren't all on the professor anymore.
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Posted: Sun Oct 02, 2016 11:50 pm
too long to the weekend
Chris welcomed Thorne's intrusion of his personal space, the distance closing between them. He felt wanted, warmed, like he was something special. Like he was someone Thorne would date, would flirt with, would keep in his arms as a potential partner.
He felt grounded.
Thorne had always been this way and it was the same all over again, even as the stares increased, the questions, the wonder. There were students ignoring them too of course, students swarming around them in their quest to get to class or to get home or to do whatever else they had to do. But there were heads turned their way, there were quick flashes of realization, of something taken with them as they moved. They were not invisible in this crowd, like Chris normally, was and it was a bit overwhelming.
But with Thorne there he felt better, felt like he could handle it. Even with the jealousy in him, even with the hissing thing coiled around his heart that wanted to bite at everything. Wanted to bite at the group staring there, the girls staring here, everyone that was looking too closely, too attentively. It was only Chris there that kept them away, the distance between them being too small that people didn't try to write them off as friends.
The girls in that group probably hated him in that moment and Chris could not bring himself to care because even if Thorne wanted something not him, if Thorne wanted someone soft and not a teacher and normalcy in their future, he wanted Thorne for this moment. He was allowing him his moment of selfishness, of keeping Thorne to himself.
His, his, his.
"If I didn't I wouldn't say it," Chris said softly, trying to instill that confidence in Thorne. He was beautiful and Chris wanted him to know, to absolutely know with all the fiber of his being. "Why would they scare me away? They're beautiful in their own right, something that proves you've been here. That you're living, that you're real. Important, amazing."
They had drawn Chris' attention from the start, never something to scare him away but always something to draw him in closer. He wanted to draw patterns on those arms, he wanted to know what they all meant. One day, one day.
He relaxed into Thorne's contact as they move, a pair, cutting through the crowd. Someone among the students saw them, knew in an instant they were a couple and went on, feeling better about their day.
"Oh hush," Chris mumbled, cheeks heating. He hadn't meant to get so personal with the compliment, admit what he'd been looking at. "The class is about to start, I won't have time to keep complimenting you."
It was a bit of a lie, but he would stick to it for now. He didn't want to be distracted or distracting throughout the lecture, although it was starting to become a moot point with all the stares. He settled in with Thorne easily, pulled out a notebook to take notes on in case he needs to.
After a pause, wrapped his arm around Thorne's waist to tug him closer, provide reassurance. There weren't many students around them and Chris felt a little confident, a little bold. The professor wouldn't care either, already sweeping into the classroom to set up at the front.
In the middle of the room, able to see Chris and Thorne clearly, a text conversation started.
[wc: 576]
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2016 8:40 pm
too long to the weekend
Thorne wasn't a stranger to compliments, to eyes that roved and wondered and wandered over his form. He wasn't a stranger to allowing it, to letting it slide off of him when it did. He had a smile, shallow and gentle, a mask for when it happened. A way of distancing himself from the compliment itself, remembering that it was only on his tattoos or his body or his eyes, never anything beneath. It should be the same here, it should be - but no. Thorne looks at Chris and, no, it is not, it is something else entirely. Because Chris looks at him and he doesn't see one or the other. The scars or the tattoos. He sees something else, and Thorne isn't sure what it is, but his heart aches for those eyes to find him, again and again and again.
He sidestepped another set of students, feeling his heart jam at the way they looked at them and their interwoven hands, their eyes curious and questioning, seeking out answers that Thorne knew lay trapped in his throat. They're both too tall to pass idly through the halls, and even if they weren't, Thorne was sure the curve of his tattoos were enough to draw stares. Usually he didn't mind, but now - now he simply wanted Chris to himself. Or rather, he wanted to shout for all the world to see that Chris was his - his - his.
But that would be a claim he could never make. A claim that could never come true. Chris viewed him as a friend. As painful as that was to swallow, like a bitter pill or a hard truth, Thorne would if it meant Chris would let him stay.
He thumbs over Chris's knuckles as they walk, a rhythmic gesture to keep him grounded, keep him sane. That sleeping beast in him prowls now that the embarrassment has dissipated, now that he can let the stares glide off of him like water.
Thorne bent his head and laughed, the sound drawing more looks. But he only had eyes for Chris.
"Flatterer," he says softly, but his tone is warm and happy, fond and embarrassed. "You'd be one of the first to say that. The first not to see scars as warning signs. And then they get upset if I want more tattoos, as though I'm hiding beneath them. But I'm not hiding." His eyes flick to Chris. "Not from you."
They enter the classroom and settle together, and Thorne eyes the crowd, smiling whenever someone meets his eye. He doesn't want to be the intimidating stranger, the person everyone should fear as the unknowable variable. The only reason he is here is for Chris, but if he can sate some nerves as well - well. He's been there before, and he knows what that underlying stress is like.
"I'm sure you could find another way to continue complimenting me if you were to get creative," Thorne says, shamelessly leaning against Chris, shoulder to shoulder, wedging his head against the others shoulder and closing his eyes as though he were going to be that awful student who napped in class right then and there.
"Surprise me," he hums, a dare of sorts, as the lecture begins.
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2016 11:53 pm
too long to the weekend
Chris only hums idly at Thorne's gesture as they walk, as he pulls him to class. His speed was to keep them from being late, true, but his speed was also to keep Thorne to himself. To keep the attention off of him and only for Chris, even if it was a futile attempt. Chris knew too many people on campus and Thorne, well. Thorne was gorgeous and so he would garner attention even if he was walking with a literal trash bag (although, with Chris at his side, he probably wasn't far off). It makes something in Chris' heart ache, the idea of Thorne with all this attenion and Chris unable to keep him for himself, Chris unable to do anything, so he shoves the thought away. But he walks faster anyways, tugs Thorne along a little firmer, and pretends that it's just to get to class. Pretends that his thankfulness that class is close only because of the time and not because he wants eyes off of Thorne.
Wants the only eyes to see Thorne are his.
"You say that now, but your thoughts will change when we have another baking war," Chris jokes, but his own tone is fond and embarrassed in equal measures. "You'll take back everything nice you said in the face of another banana bread discourse." He nudges Thorne carefully at his laugh, smiles despite himself. "They're all stupid then. Your scars are just that, scars, nothing to be afraid of." He keeps his gaze on Thorne, meets his eyes. "No," He says softly, "No, I don't think you hide from much of anyone." Was it even possible for Thorne to hide anyways? Was it even possible for someone like him, something so beautiful, so confident, keep himself from the public eye? Chris was curious and yet didn't want to know all at the same time, the question sitting in him curious but stilling. He wouldn't ask that.
The crowd of the classroom settles, moves, like a tide coming in. They notice Thorne next to Chris of course, the texting starting, the surreptitious snapchats, the sudden blushes and turns from Thorne as he catches their gaze and smiles. Some smile back, a little calm, a little excited to see someone new. But eventually the shock mostly wears off as the room fills up, as the rush of students settles to a trickle, as they start to pull out notebooks and wait for the professor to come. There will still be talking about Thorne of course, but it will be less frantic, less excited. Class is to start soon.
"Oh sure," Chris mutters, but he still shifts to make sure Thorne has a comfortable position where Chris can still work. If he was to sleep, he'd set an awful example, but he wasn't exactly working. That was Chris and the professor wouldn't mind anyways, he liked Chris well enough that this would pass easily. Chris had even asked if Thorne could come, instead of springing him on him, so he was golden for the moment.
The professor arrives and the lecture starts and Chris is attentive, for a little bit. But he knows what is going to be said and he already has study guides printed and he didn't really need to stick around, not long, so his attention wanders eventually. What Thorne had said was a challenge and he intended to take it, but in what method? Phones would be good, but he didn't know if Thorne's was silent. Whispering was out of the question. He drummed his fingers on his notebook, then looked at it in thought. It would be old school, but well, it would work.
He nudges Thorne awake after a minute, the page of his journal open and in careful pencil there is some korean written. Under it, it says, "Creative enough?"
[wc: 638]
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 10:32 pm
too long to the weekend
Thorne watches as the class begins, the words of the professor more a static hum of sound than anything else. His eyes rove over the class, but soon enough he is drawn back to Chris, who is starting to let himself pay more attention to Thorne as the lecture spins into its full breadth. He watches the other move, opening the notebook and sketching a few words inside. His mouth quirks as he sees what's happening, and with ease he pulls himself up and stretches his arms over his head, drawing a few curious glances.
But his cat-like eyes only find Chris, mischief flickering alive within them. The blond would soon find that this was a dangerous setting to put Thorne to.
Stealing a pencil, Thorne ponders what to write in return before writing a gentle line of mongolian in the crevice of the page. He is sure that Chris will not know it, prays he doesn't for what it says, and huffs a silent laugh beneath his breath before turning the pencil over and over in his hands and starting to draw. A small spiral of flowers blooms next to the Mongolian script. Daisies for beauty, a message to Chris, and sweetpeas for gratitude.
Under it, he scrawls, Get on my level.
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2016 10:49 pm
too long to the weekend
Whatever Chris is hoping to achieve, clearly, Thorne has him covered forty times over as he peers at the script he can't recognize Thorne writing. He watches him write with interest, the lecture starting to fade away in his mind as he leans into Thorne. The rest of the class is mostly focused on the lecture, Thorne and Chris only drawing a few gazes before they return to the powerpoint and Chris is grateful for the sudden privacy.
His eyes trace over the flowers, easily translating them. He had been learning more flower language lately, learning as much as he could and it was paying off here, beauty and gratitude. In what context he didn't know, but he liked them all the same and he smiles at Thorne. He steals the pencil back and after a moment of thinking, writes another message in Korean. If Thorne didn't react the first time, he wouldn't now.
Rude, He writes, I'm not an artist like you, only a teacher. Biology at that. We're not even on the same level to begin with.
[wc: 182]
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Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2016 3:45 pm
too long to the weekend
Thorne scoffed a little bit beneath his breath, bumping his other hand against Chris's underneath the desk when the Korean splayed out near his own neat scripture. Beneath it, he wrote with the stolen pencil in English, you know I have no idea what insult you're making towards me when you write in Korean.
The lecture fades to static around them, nothing more than white noise. If eyes float to them once in awhile, Thorne brushes them off. His nerves are softened by the steady press of a pencil in his hand and his fingers playing with Chris's somewhere off-screen. He twirls the pencil itself between his fingers for a thoughtful moment before setting to work on something new.
It's a simple drawing, a person in profile, a curving arc of ivy and roses. It's Chris, nothing but gentle lines, turned nearly away, the curve of his lashes low over the softest impression of his eye. Like a study done over and over again, or retraced from memory.
Thorne writes beneath it, you should model for me properly some day.
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Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2016 4:05 pm
too long to the weekend
Chris laughed a little, a soft sound to not draw attention. When Thorne found his hand he gave it easily, letting his fingers trace soft patterns against Thorne's, letting them map out what he felt like. In English he writes under Thorne's words, You'll figure it out sooner or later.
For a bit he is distracted by the lecture, not taking notes but simply reviewing the content being presented. Mentally figuring out if he needs to add or take away from the study guide he'll email the students, what he needs to prep them for so grading papers isn't quite a nightmare this time. His hand is occupied by Thorne and he idly keeps up with him, feeling like he's done this before, his other hand tapping against the desk.
When he finally decides to look back, his breath is stolen for a moment. The person Thorne has drawn is beautiful, even turned away and he looks over the details carefully. It takes him another moment to realize it's himself and he looks at Thorne with surprise.
Writes back to Thorne, Maybe someday, if you think I'm good enough.
[wc: 192]
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Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2016 8:55 pm
too long to the weekend
Thorne hummed out, a gentle sound in the base of his throat. Like this, the minutes simply melted away, into nothing, into empty space. He could spend hours drawing Chris, if he was allowed. He could spend hours in silence with him, comfortable and warm, happy just to be allowed. His hands stretch out, one to twine with Chris's and the other still with pencil in hand. His eyes rove up to Chris, bright and wild.
The message is considered for a second, but Thorne only shakes his head and smooths his hand over Chris's as the lecture continues on. With ease, he presses his thumb to Chris's pulse, even as he writes.
You are good enough already. You have always been good for me.
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Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2016 9:53 pm
too long to the weekend
Chris takes comfort in Thorne's hand twining in his, in the solid heat he feels between them. Like a starburst, like a fire, real and warm but instead of damaging just comforting. He can't help but tear his attention away from the class and to Thorne, to meet his gaze with his own. For a second all he can do is desperately, desperately long.
He hums softly at the pressure on his pulse point, at the gentle feeling there. For a minute he focuses his attention back on the lecture, tries to hide his slightly burning cheeks. When he feels like he has control, he looks back and whatever blush he was trying to hide blooms again.
Thank you, he writes. It's a few minutes before he adds, I'll model anytime you want me to.
[wc: 138]
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Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2016 10:27 pm
too long to the weekend
Thorne smirks a little bit at the blush, feeling deviously accomplished, and strokes a long line against the back of Chris's hand beneath the table as he works. He steals the pencil back and looks thoughtful, before leaning down to write:
Very well, I'm sure we can make Coalsmoke into a good enough studio so you can model for me.
He pauses and adds:
One day will you let me draw you like one of my french girls?
And a wicked curl of laughter, stifled so it doesn't disturb, worms its way into his mouth for the horrible pop reference.
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