"You promised you would go! You can't back out now, Paul," Nathan exclaims, fiery eyebrows raised high on a cream-coloured forehead and dark eyes sparkling admonishingly as slender fingers tug persistantly on Paul's unbudging arm.
Staring gloomily into the mirror on the back of the door in Nathan's room, Paul surrveys himself in vague dismay, shaking his head dispondantly at Nathan's pulls.
"No," he states flatly, swivelling unimpressed purple eyes to find Nathan's. "I look hideous. I am not going wearing this shit."
Nathan's curse of exasperation reverberates throughout the room, and he flings his arms up in the air, fingers extended in indignant frustration. Running his fingers through his hair so that the auburn strands stick up in frazzled spikes, he levels an incredulous glare at Paul.
"'Shit'! You're calling a two hundred dollar shirt 'shit'!! You obviously don't know your fashion, you twerp!"
Paul mirrors the glare, and extends his arms, staring with a disgusted expression at his reflection. Nathan grumbles low in his throat, delivering Paul an unhappily resignated sigh.
"Obviously the dude that made this shirt didn't know his fashion -- or at least, ugly from aesthetic. This shirt is just ugly."
Nathan snorts derisively, but chooses to say nothing, lest he come out with some sort of strangled gibberish. He sighs instead, watching Paul stare worriedly at his reflection. Extending his arms again, Paul runs his fingers down the dark maroon coloured sleeves, intercepting the sporadic strips of silver reflective material decorating them. Artistically decorating them, Nathan had thought, but Paul negated that belief by going into graphic detail how those reflective strips made a bad taste rise in the back of his mouth.
"But it's silk," he says weakly, still not able to let this one go.
Paul glances over his shoulder, and Nathan sees the hint of a sympathetic, pitying smile.
"Nathan, this thing could be made out of diamond dust and I would still find it ugly. Maybe it looks really good on you! But I look like a freak in it."
Nathan heaves another sigh, and then shrugs defeatedly.
"Fine, fine," he mutters, pursing his lips in disapointment. "But I don't know how you're ever going to find yourself a guy if you keep showing up at Detours wearing those plain shirts of yours."
Laughing softly, Paul begins to pull the shirt back over his head, slipping out of the confines of the material easily. It slips over his head slowly, exposing each inch of cream-coloured skin with a slowness that Nathan can't help but stare after, the tantalizing show of it almost rendering him speechless. Of course Paul had to possess the most perfect body he'd ever seen... of fucking course. Sighing inwardly, he tries to drag his eyes off Paul's topless figure as he turns to look in the closet again. Light caramel-coloured freckles adorn the tops of his shoulders, looking sprinkled there by some dancing fae. His muscles ripple languidly in his arms as the shirt slides off; smoke-coloured tufts of underarm hair shine fuzzily in the light for a quick moment before he lowers his arms again. His back is smooth, smoother than paint, Nathan can't help but think, the only blemish on it is the occasional, endearingly sexy freckle. His shoulders gracefully give way to a slender torso and achingly embracable hips, an ensemble without any trace of visable fat, only muscle and satin skin. Nathan tries not to stare into the mirror as Paul folds the shirt, his eyes hungrilly seeking out the soft swells of Paul's pectoral muscles, and nipples the colour of cinnamon bleached by sun, the size of dimes. His jaw drops slightly as he catches sight of something metallic stuck through the left one; a dark blue metallic hoop hangs through the erect tip, the steel bright and vibrant against the soft tones of his skin.
"Good fucking Christ," Nathan whispers, jerking his gaze away as he feels himself start to react in uncomfortable ways to the sight of image. Sticking his hand into the closet again, he resumes his rummaging around for shirts Paul might wear, his cheeks burning redly as the knowledge of Paul's naked chest behind him sears his mind.
"Well, maybe I don't want to find myself a guy, anyway. And my shirts are not plain! They're just not..."
"Flamboyant," Nathan finishes, turning around to greet the approaching Paul with a wry, teasing smile.
Paul grins sheepishly and then nods after a moment, sharing Nathan's chuckle. He hands the folded shirt back, and peers past him into the closet. With Paul's eyes diverted, Nathan sneaks a look down to the bared chest directly in front of him, feeling his mouth go dry at the heat radiating from it and the soft, soapy scent of the skin. So kissable, he groans inwardly as his eyes drip like liquid, greedy silk over the abdominal muscles, the tight ridges that catch the light and cast telling shadows across Paul's midriff. The nipple ring blinks sharply in the light like a beacon, beckoning him nearer, to coat it in kisses and offerings from his tongue..
"Well, maybe I've got something black and depressing you could wear," he says, snapping his gaze off Paul's chest as he feels the other's eyes focussing in on him again.
Affixing Nathan with an apologetic pout, Paul tilts his head to the side with a slow smile.
"Just don't worry about it.. I can find something in my room, I'm sure."
Narrowing his eyes, Nathan shakes his head resolutely.
"No. I want you looking good."
Paul's eyebrows raise, and Nathan giggles helplessly as Paul's mouth begins to open in indignant rebuttal.
"No, no," he says, waving his hands in an apologetic, dismissing manner, biting his lower lip in laughter-filled consternation. "That's not what I mean. Your shirts are fine... you always look good. I just mean for tonight... wear something different, that's all. It's always good to try different things..."
Nathan's voice trails off in the face of Paul's mockingly furious stare, and grins as Paul sighs under his breath.
"Well, fine. Find me something, then, Mister I've-Got-Shirts-For-Every-Minute-of-the-Day."
Nathan laughs and turns back again, casually replying as he pulls out a black, skintight creation and holds it up calculatingly against Paul's chest.
"You could always go topless, you know. I've always thought those were the best kind of shirts available.."
"Non-shirts?"
"Yep." Laughing, Nathan motions with his head for Paul to try on the black shirt, which he does with a face.
"No," he says, his voice muffled in the depths of the fabric being slid over his head. "I wouldn't want to blind the patrons at the club... I'd get kicked out for ruining business."
Nathan's mouth falls agape as he hears Paul say this, and Paul looks up as Nathan doesn't say anything. Seeing the expression on the twin's face, he laughs and winks at him. Then, looking down at the shirt, he shakes his head.
"This one doesn't work. It's too tight."
"There is no such thing as 'too tight', my dear," Nathan murmurs, unfreezing and walking towards Paul, plucking experimentally at the fabric coating one arm. "And as for getting kicked out, you'd only get kicked out for looking too beautiful to be possible."
Paul blushes deeply as he hears this, and can think of no reply as Nathan stares at the shirt intently. He stares into the downcast eyes of the other, and sighs inwardly as Seth's words from the other night come floating back into his head. 'Likes you. Alot.' As much as it flattered and bewildered him, there was nothing Paul could do about it... he simply didn't feel the same way. But Nathan was graceful about hiding it; as far as he could tell, he would never have known anything about it had Seth not spoken. Attempting to hide his embarassment at the compliment, he looks down to the shirt as well, pointing to the bump in the material as it stretches over his torso.
"The ring sticks out; it looks stupid."
Nathan's eyebrows raise, pretending to see the ring for the first time.
"That must of hurt," he says, taking the opportunity to lightly graze it with an inquisitive finger.
Paul shakes his head contemplatively, and begins to pull the shirt up and off again.
"I got it when I was seventeen... I don't really remember. I have a vague memory of thinking it was the worst pain I've ever experienced, but my mind refuses to let me remember what it was like. I do remember that for the first day, even people just looking at it made my whole body feel as though it had been shoved through a meat grinder, though."
Nathan whistles softly, raising his eyebrows in wonder, and lays a restraining hand on Paul's arm. "Leave it on. It looks really good."
Letting the shirt fall back down again, Paul casts a glance into the mirror speculatively.
"You sure?"
Nathan nods slowly, coming up behind him. They both stare into the mirror. Nathan smiles a helpless, crooked smile at the image of Paul before him, clad in a pair of black dress pants and a black muscle-shirt made of shimmering polyester, the fabric clinging to him as though it had been airbrushed on. The pants were Paul's, the shirt Nathan's. The small bump of Paul's nipple ring stands out provocatively on the shirt, and the bareness of his long, lean arms makes Nathan shiver.
"Yes, I'm sure," he says firmly, not quite able to meet Paul's gaze as it shifts to find his in the mirror. "You'll knock everyone out. Especially Seth." As he says this, he offers Paul a teasing wink, stepping away again to close the closet door. He is aware of Paul's vigilant eyes following him, the intensity of the stare making it known to Nathan that he'd struck a nerve somewhere by saying that. And with that knowledge begins a gnawing despair, a finality burning deep in his heart. I knew it... it was inevitable, though... I knew it from that night at Detours... who can't help but fall in love with Seth. I'm guilty, Alex is guilty, Kip is too... the rest of our friends... strangers on the street. That guy is too damn good looking for his own preservation... and now he's ensnared the only one who could possibly have outdone him in his perfection. Of course... of COURSE.
"Right," Paul says dismissively, muttering as he runs his fingers through his hair. "Like he'll even notice."
Nathan plasters a false smile on his face as he turns around to find Paul again, his eyes feeling suddenly like lead.
"And why wouldn't he?"
Paul's eyes find his in the mirror again. Uncertainty burns in the lavender depths; a desperation Nathan can name. His heart begins to plummet, sinking through his body like a stone.
"I dunno," he murmurs, awkwardly trying to find a way to voice his concern, in as casual a way as he can. In this, if nothing else, Nathan can see right through him. "Isn't he into the whole girl thing?"
Nathan holds the purple and silver gaze for as long as he can bear. He sees the yearning to know, the depth of the need is as deep as he's ever seen it in anyone's eyes before... he knows it has been tempered through long nights of hope and fear... of being in Seth's presence and wanting nothing more than to take him by the hands and push him to the ground, taking him in every way possible. He knew the feeling... it was the same he harboured of Paul. And now... it would only ever remain a dark, oppressed desire. But he would not hold back on Paul now, he would not let himself deny the need burning bright in those purple eyes. With the image of Seth's flawless face in his mind, he begins to speak, his voice quiet and steady against all other evidences of emotion in his heart.
"Other than an asset of previous bartending experience, there is only one requirement to getting a job at Detours," he says, dropping his eyes away as he turns to find his jacket, the tears burning behind his eyes held back by a furious determination.
Paul watches him intently, his lips parting in a sudden expression of cloud-clearing hope and understanding.
"You have to be gay," Nathan finishes simply, swinging the coat on, shrugging into it. Stepping past Paul with a dagger in his heart, he opens the door, flashing Paul a forced smile as he holds the door open for the other. "Coming?"
Paul is frozen to the spot, it seems. He stares at Nathan unblinkingly, his face unmoving in its blank surprise. His dark hair falls in waves into his eyes, but he makes no move to brush them aside as a thousand realizations come crashing into his mind. Nathan watches all this with a dead feeling, seeing with despair the way the light of the room suddenly seems to intensify, falling like holy energy onto the silken black of Paul's hair, and a mantle of radiance upon the inviting slope of his shoulders. Oh, what have I done, Nathan moans silently, watching Paul's slowly blossoming, disbelievingly shy smile. Now those two are going to be lost to the world, because there is no way in hell that Seth can possibly not feel the same way about Paul... to not feel that way would only be possible if you've had your eyes ripped out and your heart immersed in some sort of flesh-eating acid. He's always been silent about the ones he cares about the most.. and upon Paul he has offered no words, no opinion. Which must mean that the highest regard lies within that desperately-sought after heart... I should talk to him.
"Could... could... you.. lie about.. that?"
Nathan blinks, snapped out of his black reverie.
"Could you lie about what?"
"...being gay... to get the job."
Nathan shakes his head, further sinking himself deeper into a sudden, sussurating depression.
"Not really. Well, I guess you could, but everyone who frequents the bar would know... they know all the fags on campus. Even the ones in the closet. When Seth was hired for the job, that was his way of coming out, I guess. It had the whole place in an uproar.." Nathan smiles fondly at the memory; at the countless shocked stares as the people had gone up for drinks and found themselves being served by the most desireable guy on campus. And that title wasn't just something Nathan himself prescribed Seth to, it was the entire campus. There was no bullshitting about Seth's beauty. It just wasn't possible. But Seth, as always, retreated into himself, and even with that new revelation, refused to let anyone in.
Except for now. He'd seen them that night, Seth and Paul, walking almost hand in hand down the path towards the dormitories. He had watched from his window as they had passed by; he had seen that cataclysmic greeting under the streetlight. He had noticed how his best friend had moved without his usual ignorant grace, replaced instead by a cautious, self-conscious gait. The smiles on his face were genuinely nervous, and the gaze in his eyes spoke of nothing but complete adoration. Which was so fucking weird to see... Seth had always been the calm, quiet one; the one who had looked out at the world from a secret place within, that languid, sensual smile.. one that seemed to harbour some deep, inner amusement and enthrallment with some nameless thing.
No-one had ever managed to peirce that. He had heard Seth's whimpering in the night; the remnants of some demon-filled dream, and he'd always sat helplessly beside him, unable to wake him. Smoothing aside the dark brown, soft curls, he'd plead silently for Seth to wake up and out of the darkness. It seemed, every time, that Seth never would. But suddenly, with Paul in the picture... those dreams would never have to be had. Nathan doesn't know why he gets this feeling.. he only knows that it is true as he looks into Paul's fearless, magician's eyes.
"Are you coming, hun?" Nathan asks softly, pushing everything else aside except for the deep respect that lay in his heart for the enigmatic, fae-blessed one in front of him. Stepping into the hallway, he waits for Paul to follow, closing the door after him once he passes through. Locking it, he pockets the keys quietly and falls into step with Paul, who moves dazedly, as though in a dream. They stay like this for a while, and then finally, Nathan's curiosity gets the better of him, and he looks up at Paul questioningly. His voice is hesitant and soft, not wanting to somehow scare the light out of Paul's lavender and silver eyes.
"Does that surprise you? About Seth, I mean."
Paul is quiet for a moment, and then looks over at Nathan, taking in the suddenly subdued darkness of the chocolate eyes.
"Yes." Clearing his throat awkwardly, he pushes his fingers through his hair shyly.
"He never told you?"
Paul shakes his head mutely, that surprised light coming into his eyes again, followed by that giddy grin. "No, he didn't. But I guess I don't have very good gaydar."
Nathan laughs in spite of himself. "Well, no, I wouldn't say that. Even Alex and I had no clue he was gay until we found him serving our drinks at Detours. He's a very straight-acting guy."
Paul nods at this emphatically, and they walk in silence for a while, heading out the residence doors to approach the path again, heading towards the club. Nathan keeps his eyes on the ground, watching the gravel become a slow blur underfoot as they pass overtop of it. He watches Paul's shadow as they walk, can see the fingers moving through the sheafs of hair that rest lightly and sleekly on his head. Swallowing a sigh, he looks up with a smile as Paul's voice, soft and shy, floats out into the still air.
"Is he.. dating anyone?"
Nathan drops his gaze away again heavily, the movement of that contrasting starkly with the lightness of his voice.
"No. He, uh, never has, actually."
Paul blinks and looks over at Nathan quickly, surprise making his eyes shimmer softly.
"He.. hasn't?"
Nathan shakes his head. "Nope."
"...why?"
"Too afraid, I think. He's more of the... one night stand kind of guy."
Paul raises his eyebrows slowly, a gesture that Nathan mistakes for a burgeoning repulsion, and hurriedly keeps explaining.
"He's... had some bad shit happen to him throughout his life... making him develop quite an unfortunate complex. What it boils down to, and what he'll never admit to but I can see anyway, is that he believes anyone he gives his heart to will die. I don't know if you know, but his brother died a little while back. He loved his brother more than anyone else. He loves his mother feircely, and everytime he tries to show her how much he loves her, she slips further into her own hell. The very first guy he ever fell in love with and told him about it, died by killing himself. Which was so far from Seth's fault it's not even laughable, but Seth harbours his own opinions which I cannot shake him from. So he hides himself away."
Paul watches Nathan carefully as he is speaking, but Nathan can't bring himself to look up into that suddenly empathetic, luminent gaze. Again, there is silence, a silence that presses in around from all sides, making Nathan squirm inwardly as the ghosts of his words crackle in between he and Paul like spectral fire.
"But that doesn't mean you don't have a chance," he hears himself saying as Detours comes into view as they round the bend.
Paul's soft laugh burns his senses, and he looks over at his unsmiling face.
"How do you figure that."
Nathan takes a deep breath, side-stepping a car in the parking lot that roars to life beside him.
"Because there is something very different about you, Paul," he says quietly, as they head towards the opening, inviting doors. "You've got something in you that I've never seen in anyone else. Everyone sees it; I'm not the only one. Therefore, Seth can see it too. I know he can. He called you, didn't he? He called me every night looking for you. It was always thrown casually into the conversation, but I know that's why he called. He never does that. Seth's not an idiot. He may be lost inside himself, but he does have the ability to see past his own nose. Especially if one as beautiful as you calls him out."
And with that, without bothering to look and see if Paul is following, Nathan steps inside, the cream colour of his outfit disapearing ghostly into the awaiting gloom. Paul stares after him silently, a war of emotions tirading across his heart. His fingers find each other behind his back, and he stands there unblinkingly, Nathan's words throbbing in the depths of his chest. Incredulous exstacy makes him feel like he is about to fall back into a bed of water at Nathan's admission of Seth's seeking, and a wave of sadness fringed with guilt consumes him as he knows how hard those words must of been for Nathan to say. They were beautiful words, all of them undeserved.. and that thought makes him blink, look down as an unamed emotion comes through, eradicating all the others. He stands in this timeless place for a while, until a gentle hand on his shoulder makes him look up.
"Earth to Paul," a voice says, and he instantly recognises it as a more lilting, carefree version of Nathan's.
"Hey Alex," he says, smiling helplessly as Alex envelops him in a bear hug. When he is done, Alex takes a step back, surveying Paul with a low whistle, and sparkling eyes.
"Is that my brother's shirt?" he asks, running his fingers down the material.
Paul nods, and Alex laughs, the amber flecks in his eyes as brilliant as the stars in some alien sky.
"Keep it, then. It looks a hell of a lot better on you than him."
Grinning, Paul lets himself get led into the club. Once they are inside, they stop at the edge of the dance floor, looking around for Nathan. The air is heavy with scent; cologne and alchohol, mixed with the faint hint of makeup and sex. The world inside the building is a nighttime fiesta of swirling neon lights and heavy, consuming music, and it is a world that Paul feels himself merge with effortlessly. With an unconscious sensual smile on his lips, he gazes around him, watching the play unfold itself before his eyes. Hands, their fingers loose and graceful as they move through the air, play out a stocatto pattern against the club lights as they pour over the crowd. Voices murmur in a low buzz over the cachophany of music; skin flashes every colour in the rainbow as the dancing lights pour over it all, chests bared and bathed in blue, green and orange, arms made exotic with flashes of glitter and other hands caressing them. It was a drug to the senses, and Paul is about to sigh with the perfection of it all when Alex's voice is cutting through his reverie.
"There he is!"
He follows Alex's finger through a part in the crowd that reveals the glossy countennance of the bar. Nathan leans against the counter, a smile on his face, the lights wreaking havoc with the red of his hair. Paul watches as he cradles a drink in one quietly slender hand, and a napkin in the other. Following Nathan's eyes, he latches onto the reason why he came here in the first place.
"I'm gonna split for a while, okay Paul?" he hears Alex ask. He nods absently. "I'll be back. I need to find Kip."
He doesn't see Alex leave. Seth is on the other side of the bar, listening to whatever it is that is coming out of Nathan's lips. Washing a glass, the gleaming texure of it blinks sparklingly in the darkness, the blue lights above the bar pouring down on Seth's red and black clad figure. Holding the glass in one hand and a dishcloth in the other, he dries the inside of the glass slowly, absently, his magnetic eyes locked on Nathan. Again, Paul falls in love. The feminine fullness of the lips and eyelashes, the glory of the hair made a UV indigo from the light beating down on him, and the body that looked ready to throw itself into a dance where the melody was grace, the harmonies light, and the beat pure, unadulterated lust. The smile on Seth's face is as languid as a panther; without the predatory deadliness and replaced instead with a gentleness that speaks to Paul of starlight and Elvish wisdom.
"Oh," Paul whispers as stares, the need to sit down or to throw himself into those strong arms crashing over him at once.
Instead, he begins to walk unsteadily towards the bar, ignorant of the sudden, furtive glances tossed his way from the crowd he maneuvers his way through, completely unresponsive to the fingers that hesitantly, wonderingly reach out to graze his bare shoulders. Seth's shirt, a deep blood red, throbs fuzzily in the darkness. Paul can see that it is unbuttoned, with a black singlet underneath, and the combination of the two looks almost too perfect to bear. Slowly he approaches the bar, his presence made known by Seth, who is the first of the two to look up as something tugs at his senses, demanding that he look to see what it is. Paul watches as whatever words were coming out of his mouth die, and his eyes to lose their laughter-filled brightness to be replaced with something else, something deeper, darker, and all the more beautiful for the cast it creates in the annihilating brilliance of his eyes. The alabaster softness of his cheeks shines in the UV glow, and the sudden smile that touches his lips makes Paul shiver. Impossibly, he sees Seth's eyes move from his own, and begin to move downwards, locking with an intensity Paul can feel upon his chest.
Seth's hand stops in its motion of washing the glass, and the smile on his face arrests itself of motion as he stares. And when his lips part slowly and a sudden wet flash of his tongue flickers across his lips, Paul feels his feet literally leave the ground. Whether or not he managed to do that, he does not know, but it feels very much like he is floating as Seth's face becomes lost. It is an expression that Paul identifies with from the depths of his heart; the one of being completely unable to do anything else but stare as something captivates your mind, heart and soul. And it shocks the hell out of him, but while also giving him a delerious feeling of hope and self-consciousness. Apparently, Seth approved of the shirt...
Nathan stares at Seth as he also watches the change come over his friend's face, and slowly turns to follow his gaze. Seeing Paul standing there behind him, he offers him a smile, beckoning him closer as bells go off in his mind. "Hey!" he says, grinning, as Paul timidly takes a few steps forward, the smile and blush on his face making it completely obvious that Paul had seen Seth's face as well.
Paul approaches them slowly, moving like an onyx shadow of erotic intelligence through the air. Seth makes himself start washing the glass again, his expression back to its usual half-smile by the time Nathan looks around again.
Eyes locked on Seth, Paul's eyelashes dip and lift in a demure, graceful greeting that makes Seth's fingers tighten painfully on the cloth in his hand. Smiling back at Seth's respectful nod, he speaks, eyes shifting off Seth to look around as a smile as heady as insense rests on his dusky lips.
"Working hard or hardly working?" he asks, a sparkling wink gaining captivity of one silver-dusted twilight eye as he slips into one of the barstools on the other side of the counter, his bare arms resting on the reflective surface lightly. Seth, hypnotized by the lights shimmering pale on the faint hair on Paul's arms, again issues forth a slow, secret smile, one Paul had come to know meant utter contentment and some inner revelation.
"Working hard at hardly working," Seth replies, winking back. There is a deliberate smoothness in his voice and smile tonight. It brings crimson-coloured thrills to shoot down Paul's arms and fingers, putting a light into his eyes and movements that even Nathan can see and pinpoint. Smiling, Paul transfers his gaze to Nathan, a gleeful expression taking charge of his delicate features.
"Your brother said I should keep the shirt," he says, leaning forward on the stool slightly as a dancing couple, lips and fingers locked, twirl precariously close to their seats.
Nathan grins and shrugs, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, he would say that. Any chance he can get to subtely snub me, he grabs. But for once I think I agree with him. Keep the shirt. It looks really good on you. A hell of a lot better than on me."
Paul shakes his head firmly, looking back down at the shirt with a smile. "No. It's yours, and you probably paid some outrageous sum for it."
Nathan laughs and nods, easing himself into a stool beside Paul. "Well, of course I did. But I don't like the shirt. Better you wear it than it stay in my closet rotting away." Glancing over at the silently observing Seth, Nathan tilts his head to the side an quirks an inquisitive eyebrow. "What do you think of it?" he asks, to which Seth lets his gaze fall back to the shirt slowly, casually, even though his eyes had been begging to linger there ever since Paul came into the bar.
"Beautiful," Seth says softly, lifting his gaze from Paul's perfect figure to find and fall into Paul's eyes. He couldn't bear to stare too long, or else he'd undoubtably get extremely distracted, even more so than he is now, and get fired. Ignoring the trembling feeling in his fingers and chest, he tries to calm himself as he looks into Paul's intent eyes. Don't, he warns his body dangerously. Don't. But Paul's beauty burns, straight through his eyes and down his throat, making swallowing a difficult struggle. It burns his chest and down towards a darker, less allowed place, making his balance suddenly become unhinged as desire kicks itself alight in his groin.
It was weird, that beauty. It wasn't the type he was used to, which was the kind that made him stop in his tracks and become hyptnotized. It was that too, certainly, for he was almost always awestruck in Paul's presence, but there was so much more to it. It felt healing. It seemed, some days, that if he could only look upon that gentle, delicate face, his heartache would stop, and the storms in his head would roll away. And when he did come face to face with Paul, he could feel his soul calming, could feel it expanding out of his body to latch on the elusive angel, greedily drinking in the sweet brilliance of his engery and feasting on the physical perfection that was the brilliance made manifest.
He sees Paul's blush belatedly, and looks away quickly, flinching as he realizes how intense his stare must have been. He's going to think I'm some sort of weird psycho...
"It looks great," Seth continues, clearing his throat slightly as he puts the glass down and reaches for another. "You should definately keep it."
Nathan stares at the two of them, acutely aware of the sudden fragile ground Seth had created with that one simple stare. It seemed to Nathan that if he'd gotten up on the counter and started to strip, neither of them would register a thing. Glancing over at Paul, he sees the shy look of delight that he'd seen so many times in Seth's presence, and it makes a queasy feeling drip into the pit of his stomach. "Well, that decides it then," he says, in a falsely cheerful voice. "You're keeping it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to find my brother."
Flashing them both quick smiles, Nathan slips out of his seat and into the crowd, disapearing like a cream-coloured bird into a roiling cloud of lightning and thunder. Paul stares after him a moment, and is slow to look back at Seth, realizing how alone the two of them are now. Bad idea, he tells himself worriedly. I'm going to say something stupid, I just know it.
"What'll you have?" Seth asks as Paul turns back to him.
Paul smiles slowly, and shrugs, leaning his elbows on the counter again and gazing up at Seth contemplatively.
"My usual," he says, and Seth delights in the highly British way 'usual' rolls off his tongue.
Smiling, Seth nods and reaches for the bottle of kahlua lined up with all the other innocuously glittering bottles behind him. Bending down, Paul hears the sound of a fridge door opening, and he is straightening up again, brandishing a carton of cream. Opening the carton, he pours both the kahlua and the cream into the glass he'd just cleaned, and slides it towards Paul, who intercepts it with a smile.
"How much do I owe?" Paul asks, sticking a hand into his pocket, his fingers rummaging around in the hidden depths for some change, but Seth stops him with a slow shake of the head.
"Nothing," he says, putting the cream and kahlua away again. Then, looking over his shoulder at Paul, a spark of curiosity flashes in his gaze. "Well, maybe the answer to a question."
Paul raises a dark eyebrow, and then nods, taking a slow, savouring sip of his drink. Seth watches the way Paul handles the glass; as if it were a lover, cradling it close to his chest, his fingers caressing the smooth glass in such a way that it makes Seth's cheeks burn. God, if only...
"Why is that drink your favourite?" Seth asks, dragging his eyes off the glass and into Paul's eyes. No better. Those eyes were like satin sheets: they spoke of mystery and enticement... a promise of bliss found in slow caress and wet touches of lips and tongue...
Paul lowers his gaze so that Seth doesn't see his sudden, embarassed blush. How was he supposed to explain that? Make up some bullshit, or actually tell him? Ludicrously, Paul is suddenly hard pressed to imagine Seth freaking out over the real reason. Inwardly, he kicks himself. Get a grip. He might like the shirt, but that doesn't mean anything else. He is gay, after all.. he may just appriciate nice shirts. But he hadn't seen Seth since that night on the path, where he'd told Seth he was gay. The night had ended abruptly once that had been brought to light, and he was still unsure how Seth had taken it. From his relaxed, content manner, Paul was hoping beyond hope that maybe everything would be alright.
"It tastes good," he says lamely, hiding his blushing visage behind the glass as he takes a deep draw from it, trying to calm his jittering nerves.
Seth gaze negates the effects of the alchohol, and makes Paul want to squirm. Sharp and shrewd, it sees straight through the lie. And when Seth's voice comes, Paul takes another drink, biting down on his lip deeply.
"Hmm. And here I was thinking there was some deeper reason," Seth says, and is about to say something more when someone comes up to the left of Paul, awaiting Seth's attention. He turns away with a quick smile and turns it onto the stranger, who, in veiw of Paul's silent gaze, begins to blush. Paul can't help but snicker slightly at the young man's face: all self-assurance gone out the window and replaced with pale adoration. He can hear the young man's mind as if it were suddenly thrust into his own. 'Holy shit,' he hears the stranger think. 'This has got to be some trick of the light... holy fuck...'
Paul smiles slightly, and after the young man stammers out his request and Seth gracefuly goes to create it, he looks up at him. Staring after Seth, the boy's eyes are wide: twin pools of sapphire blue. With sandy hair lying in touseled waves over his forehead and lips that looked too innocent to be possible, the boy looked the waking remnant of somebody's darkest, most frequented wet dream. He can see without looking that the crowd behind him is peppered with watching eyes, eyes that had watched this young one all throughout the night in the hopes of ensnaring his carefree, sexually-initiated gaze. I wonder who is going to take you home tonight, Paul wonders quietly within the confines of his own mind. I wonder who is going to glorify in the defiling of your beauty... for in this place, aside from one person alone, no-one here is worthy enough or able to do your perfection justice. And I wonder if the act will bitter you... the gentle passion you thought would be returned will instead be returned with violent greed. And in this sudden flash of prophecy, Paul reaches out and touches lightly on the boy's arm. Jamie, he realizes suddenly as his fingers make contact. His name is Jamie.
The boy jumps and looks down at him, torn from staring at Seth. The injury in his eyes is one Paul knows; almost everyone possessed it, however crazy it sounded, once they had to look away from Seth.
"Stay out of the park tonight," Paul says in a half-whisper, eyes gone indigo locking on Jamie. "Don't follow him there."
The shocked light in Jamie's eyes at the touch begins to slowly darken into incredulous fear as he registers Paul's words. He takes the drink Seth hands him absently, his hands visably shaking as he is forced to look into Paul's intense stare.
"Who?" he hears Jamie whisper softly, unable to let his mind intervene with his instinct.
And as that word falls out from between Jamie's candy lips, someone walks up behind him, threading a lazily beefy arm around his slender waist. Paul's eyes fall away from Jamie's to look at the one embracing him, and a shiver of repulsion shakes his body as he does so. He looks down almost instantly, not wanting to persue that vision any longer. Rugged looking, not ugly.. but the light of lust and destruction in his black eyes was enough for Paul. He cannot bring himself to say anything else, and it is in a daze of confusion and fright that Jamie is lead away, his bright blue eyes desperately seeking out Paul's as he is lead into the throbbing crowd.
Paul keeps his gaze down as the familiar imprint of Seth's gaze on his face begins to burn. Taking another sip of his drink, he realizes it is empty and sighs softly. He is about to push the glass away when out of nowhere, Seth's slender fingers come into view, gently wrapping themselves around the glass in his hands. Prying it out of Paul's fingers slowly, and with the touch of his own fingers gently grazing Paul's, he manages to make Paul look up at him, albeit slowly and reluctantly.
When their eyes meet, Seth offers him a careful smile, even though a thousand questions and awestruck emotion roils through his heart. He had seen the entire encounter between Paul and the boy, had managed to catch the words they had both spoken. And staring into Paul's purple gaze, he feels it happen. Right then, with his fingers wrapped around Paul's elusive ones, and with his eyes locked on the most profound gaze he'd ever seen, he feels his heart give itself up. So powerful, he thinks distantly as Paul's eyes annihilate any formed thought. Seth had no doubt that Paul was right about what he picked up from the boy.. the warning was not an idle one. So fucking powerful.. and he has no idea how incredible he is... so afraid of his own beauty. A direct descendant of kings and magic-makers... ability beyond my comprehension lies in that beautiful head, hidden from everyone and everything. God knows what he sees... and God knows all I want to do is fall to my knees before him and eradicte the weight of the world that lies in his eyes...
"I'll get you another drink," he says huskily, trying to avoid the gaze of yearning that threatens to surface in his eyes.
"Okay," Paul whispers, after a moment of uncertain silence. The tones of Seth's voice makes him blink; the usual smoothness of the words and the way they are usually strung together is devoid of its characteristic softness. He can feel Seth's fingers on his own, and their warm solidness on his skin makes his fingers twitch, aching to hold their strength in his grasp. He can see the loose curls of Seth's hair pooling on the countertop as he leans over to hold Paul's hand; their softness beckons to him through the layers of silken dark between them. The way they framed that aristocratic, feminine face was simply, starkly erotic.. he wanted to know what it would be like to lose himself inside Seth's kiss, have that hair become a curtain hiding them from the world; reality becoming no more painful or beautiful than the perfection of that burning, bruising kiss.
And before he can stop himself, he is reaching forward with his other hand, fingers outstretched to touch upon and immerse themselves into the tendrils of chestnut shine lying on the counter. He can feel Seth's gaze following his fingers, and Seth's hand stiffens slightly in his own as Paul lets his touch rest completely on his hair. As hesitant and lightly as a bird upon a human's finger, he lets his fingers play through the silken mass, losing himself in the insane softness of it, feeling it trickle like curved, joyous rain through his fingers. His eyes drift closed helplessly as the touch sinks into his brain; the trembling in his fingers unable to be captured into his control as they move deeper. This is holy, Paul tells himself, instantly feeling the experience beginning to overtake his body. This temporarily eternal beauty of the human body... of Seth's body. God has not created a creature as perfect as this before, or ever will after. I am convinced of this...
"Like water," he murmurs, without realizing he has spoken. "Like liquid light. Delicate... more beautiful than a sunrise.."
And his fingers are moving deeper and deeper, rising upwards to follow the tumbling fall of curls, feeling it lose its silken cool as it gets closer and closer to Seth's shoulder. His hand feels as though it has been set on fire.. a platinum brilliant fire that makes every nerve ending as raw and sensitive as a wound. His whole arm shivers now as he moves it, unaware of anything but the need to keep feeling this. Distantly, he is aware of Seth's hand on his own, moving and shifting until suddenly the glass in not in his fingers but is instead replaced with the trembling warmth of Seth's hand. His own fingers close tightly around it; he is fuzzily aware of nervous fear pouring in waves out of Seth's fingers, but it is a fear that is overided by something else.. something stronger to make him stay. He holds Seth's hand tightly in a mute attempt at assurance, and feels Seth's fingers tighten in response, a gesture which makes him gasp helplessly as his other hand moves through Seth's hair.
"Paul..." he hears, Seth's voice no more than a whisper, as delicate as the page of a long forgotten book. The word is shakily uttered, and he knows without understanding how that it is not a command to cease, but simply born of the need to say something because the moment had suddenly become too much. Don't stop me, Paul begs silently as his fingers brush the suddeness of Seth's shoulder. Please don't stop me..
"Paul.." he hears again, the word this time breathed... an expellation of breath that seems to come from a depth within Seth that Paul had never before heard. And then he hears the music. The song had started a few minutes ago, but he had not registered it. But at that moment, the words come crashing in as his fingers push past the curls to rest on Seth's shoulder, his fingertips caressing lightly, dangerously. 'Waiting for tonight,' the disembodied singer sings stridently, the beat and the strength of her voice reverberating throughout the club and Paul's head. 'When you will be here in my arms/Waiting for tonight...' Yes, waiting for tonight. And if tonight was the last and only night he would see Seth again, so be it. At least he had a chance to touch perfection.
His fingers are moving to the left now, hesitantly brushing against the collar of the crimson red dress shirt Seth is wearing overtop of the black singlet. The pulsating warmth of Seth's neck bathes his fingers as, unbelivingly, his fingers move unhindered towards the bare skin. Seth's hair trails languidly over the back of his hand as his fingertips begin to lightly caress his throat, moving with the light, cautious slowness that would be ready to jerk back if any resistance were to be shown. But none comes, and in a trance of delerium, Paul lets his fingers mould with the warm smoothness of Seth's throat, unaware now that Seth's hand in his own is clutching hard enough to leave a white imprint around the grip, pushing the blood completely out of Paul's skin.
He can feel Seth's heartbeat under his touch. It is rapid and insistant, whispering seductively to the blood in his own veins to move and merge with it, to become one. Entranced with the feeling of it, his fingers press lightly into the skin above the jumping jugular vein, feeling it throb ceaselessly against his fingers. I want to kiss it, he murmurs silently, his breath coming in eratic jerks. I want to press my lips to it and suck as hard as I can... feel you bleed into me, filling me with your essence. Moving his fingers again, they slide upwards on Seth's neck, coming slowly to the graceful taper of his jaw. His index finger bumps against the dragon earring hanging from Seth's earlobe, and when his fingers begin to travel the edge of the other's jaw and onto his cheek, Seth inhales sharply. A gasp of surprise whose end notes descend into a low sigh, one on the edge of hearing and one that Paul does not miss.
I am too scared to open my eyes, Paul realizes, as the urge to open them comes forth. And with that thought of opening them, the fabric of reality begins to sneak its way back into his psyche again. The realization of what he is doing crashes into him, and a sudden stab of shame and embarassment makes him wince as he forces his eyes open. He is about to jerk away, with a hundred apologies dancing fearfully on his lips, when he locks onto Seth's eyes. They are closed, the long sweep of eyelashes shimmering a soft sandy brown in the darkness. They rest on his cheeks like birds ready to take flight; contrasting darkly with the skin made a strange silver-blue from the UV lighting above their heads. The look on his face is one of perfect stillness; his breath arrives in spasms, his lips parted in some unbelievable ecstacy as he leans himself into Paul's hand. Paul can taste Seth's breath as it falls on his cheeks; it tastes of tears and forest magic, of intensity unmatched and lonliness deeper than any sea.
"You dance to these songs," Paul hears himself whisper, staring into Seth's closed eyes. "You dance to them, with people you wish could bring some meaning to the lyrics, but never can. You wish someone could mean to you what the object of affection in those songs mean to the singer, but it can never happen. You let yourself fall in love for nothing longer than a dance in the dark. And when you find yourself with them in your bed, you can carry out that romance for a couple more hours, but in the end you have to leave. As they lie there, naked in your arms, peaceful with sleep, they break your heart. When the song ends, and they turn eyes alive with adoration up at you, they break your heart. You, almost better than anyone else, understand fully the fragility of humanity. You have seen the breaking point of the heart time and time again. You hover on it now; you've placed yourself on that line for fear of plunging too far in either direction. For years you have done this, and it has become a bitter satisfaction for you, to leave while they sleep and turn tear-filled eyes into the shadows as people pass you on the street on your way home again. It is a temporary love, in the short length of the night. It won't hurt you, and they won't leave you. So instead, you leave them before they can do any damage to an already worn heart. "
Seth's eyes slowly open after Paul's voice trails away. With his cheek being caressed by one star-coloured hand and eyes the colour of magic pouring into his own, he is unable to do anything but stare as Paul's words pound around inside the locked chasm of his head, smashing down walls he never even knew were erected, and setting alight the rickety structures of self-assurance that he had made in the deep of the night when his aloneness hit him the worst. It is like, all of a sudden, that the world has suddenly stepped out of the backround and into the foreground; a place it seemed to have abandoned long ago. Life, in all of its glory, freshness and vividity suddenly blossoms around him, and it all localizes it in the one sitting before him, the one unconsciously holding his heart in unassuming hands. He can feel himself breathing. And it is this thought alone, coupled with a love deeper than he ever realized for the angel before him, that makes tears the colour of crystal rise in his gaze.
Paul blinks as he sees the sudden streak of tears resting heavily in each hazel eye, and the hand resting on Seth's cheek jerks slightly as a worried fear shivers up his arm. But he cannot say or do anything, because Seth's gaze is holding him as a sword would hold a scabbard: completely and without any trace of space. It seems as though aeons pass as they stare at each other, and they both understand without voicing it that they had looked upon each other like this before, many times and ages ago. It was an ancient stare, a greeting that had been made countless times; under a roof of stars, under cathedral domes, in forests made deep with magick and song, and in rituals of power during the times of druids and sourcery. This time was no different, although made under the light of ultra-violet, surrounded by the songs of the newest generation. If anything, it was stronger, for they carried the knowledge this time of lives gone past. And as always, it was made of the purest stuff of love.
"And I would know your name," Seth whispers softly, in a voice that is not entirely his own; nuances made darker and more powerful by forces rent from that gaze. "For we shall dance under the moon surely."
But before Paul can formulate any reaction to the shock of the tears polluting Seth's glittering, anguished gaze, or the shattering words that had tumbled from his lips, someone emerges from the crowd behind them, bumping into Paul with a giggled apology. Paul jumps slightly, and as he hears "A rye and ginger, please," his hand jerks away from Seth's cheek with the quickness of a knife through water. Seth is already moving, almost as quickly, and the crystalline wetness in his eyes gets rubbed feircely away with the shaking hand that was, seconds ago, clutching Paul's with a desperation that Paul had never felt the like of before in his life.
The stranger, drunk with the music and probably countless other rye and gingers, leans over the counter, oblivious to the shaken countennance of the bar tender. Humming out of tune, he turns a grinning, slightly glassy gaze onto Paul's white face.
"Fuckin' awesome, hey?" the stranger drawls, the blonde spikes of hair on his head looking suddenly lethal to Paul's darkened eyes. With a rugged faxe and body structure like a tower of cement, the stranger does nothing but repulse Paul, who nods back jerkily, fuzzily trying to discern what the stranger was alluding to. Fuckin' awesome? Fuck off, he suddenly feels like screaming to the dull-witted imbecile in front of him. All hard lines and asymmetry, the stranger makes him recoil inwardly, feeling suddenly as through the world has shifted gears on him, after the heart-peircingly graceful beauty of Seth's face and fingers.
Looking over to Seth, he watches as the other grabs a straw and plunges it into the already mixed drink. Face pale, Seth's hair drapes it darkly, guardedly as he turns to hand the drink to the waiting stranger. "That'll be three-fifty," Seth says as the stranger takes the drink with a smile, hand digging into his pocket for change. Paul winces at the sound of Seth's voice; he'd never heard it sound so devoid of expression. As the stranger lets change trickle from out between his fingers into Seth's palm, Paul watches with dismay Seth's other hand which hangs at his side, still glistening with tears, knuckles gone white with strain as he clenches his fist. He turns quickly after the stranger leaves, and Paul hears the sharp clinking sounds of coins landing in a hidden compartment. He sits there mutely, face and fingers burning, wanting nothing more than to disapear. I'm so sorry, he whispers in his head, his eyes watching the back of Seth's head in a sudden riot of shame and sorrow.
He closes his eyes as he feels it coming. After a moment of waiting, he opens his eyes again just in time to see Nathan and Alex, arm in arm, come up to the bar. Hiding his frown of frustration, he turns a weary smile onto them, highly aware of Seth's still turned back. The twins grin back at him, their eyes aglow with the charge of music, and suddenly they are pressing in around him, their scent and touch invading him entirely. Nathan comes to a crouch beside him, one hand resting on his knee, looking up into his face with a grin, and Alex drapes himself over Paul's shoulders, arms lazily hooked around Paul's chest, his cheek pressed up against his face.
"Want to come dance?" he hears, acutely conscious of the low, almost purr-like tones of Alex's voice as it drips like chocolate into his ears. Nathan's smile is filling his vision as it begins to blur with pain.
"Not just now," he manages to say, to which Alex utters a tsk of frustration, and suddenly Paul feels Alex's hands moving, caressing his chest, moving like gossamer over his ribs and down to encircle his waist.
"Come dance."
The words are a command, not a request, and are uttered in a definate iron purr. He can feel the faint scratching of stubble as Alex rubs his cheek against his own, and the scent of aftershave begins to drown him. Fighting to breathe against a rising panic, he casts about for something to do, some way to get out of this, when Seth turns around again, face as taciturn as Paul has ever it seen it. It makes him want to cry. He catches a glimpse of the dragon earring's eyes glittering garnet red through the curls of Seth's hair, and absurdly, it seems to be taunting him. Look what you just fucked up, the malicious gaze seems to whisper. Look good and hard, because this is the end of it.
"Hello, Seth," Nathan says, straightening from his crouch to lean on the counter. "Busy night?"
Lifting one shoulder in a slow shrug, Seth smiles a strange half-smile. "Isn't it always?" he says, moving his attention from Nathan to slip to Paul for a moment, and Paul can feel his breath become ice in his lungs for the half second that Seth allows his gaze to linger. Pain lies there, deep and deadly, and it makes Paul shudder.
Nathan's laugh cuts through his haze, and then Paul hears his voice. "Is it okay if we steal Paul away from you for a while? We figure he should come dance while there's still enough night left."
Seth's gaze is steady on Nathan's as he nods after a moment of silence.
"Of course."
Of course. It makes Paul want to scream. But he allows himself to fall into Alex's triumphant arms, and lets himself be pulled off the stool and dragged into the crowd. As he goes, he keeps his gaze locked on Seth, clumsily moving through the people as he strains to keep Seth's unmoving figure in view. As he becomes almost impossible to see, that is when he finally raises his head. Their gazes crash and lock onto each other over the sea of people, and if Seth can see the anguish that lies indigo in Paul's luminent gaze, he makes no point of it as he silently watches Paul disapear.
It is only after Paul has completely been lost to the gaping maw of the crowd does Seth allow himself to move. Shaking visably, he collapses into a chair behind the counter, supporting his head in his hands, his face alabaster white with the thousands of emotions pouring through him as though he were a seive. The tears come freely now, for he is still not able to shake that feeling of one-ness, of rightness that had come over him when Paul's eyes had held him, when that softly musical voice had peirced straight to the core of his being, exposing parts of him no-one else had never seen, much less guessed at. Feeling sick, he groans helplessly as he remembers what he had said, how foolish it seemed now in the face of the stranger and the twins, in their awful, horrible intrusion.
"Fuck," he moans into his tear-streaked hands, his heart shaking as the memory of Paul assails it. Why do I need you so much? he screams into the blackness of his head. Why have you affected me so completely? I can't breathe and not think of you. Do you have to be so beautiful... why do you have to be so perfect....
Strangely, as though Life is bearing solemn witness to his pain, the bar remains untroubled for the next little while, giving Seth time to sit there, questions running through his head, all of them superimposed with burning images of Paul. He stays on his chair, unmoving, letting his tears of frustration run themselves dry, and that is how Nathan finds him a little while later, when the night has aged, and emotions have had time to sit and solidify.
Alex's arms hold him gently, moving and steering him through the music. Lost in a blankness of white and helplessness, he clings onto Alex as they dance, seeking some comfort from the scented skin and warm touch. He had given up protesting to dancing a while ago, when Nathan and Alex had surrounded him, pressing him in like a sandwich of clothes and skin. Unable to do anything else in the face of their assertations, he had watched them dance, watched as through he was a stranger in the admiring crowd as they danced with each other, all sensual gaze and almost-kisses in the darkness. He had watched people gather around them, it seemed like a hundred male eyes were locked on the red-haired beauties, all of them lusting after their slender waists and skilled fingers. It had caused quite the sensation when they had slipped their hands under each other's shirts, running their fingers over the other's chest with the smooth deliberation of a lover's touch.
"You are a great dancer," he hears Alex murmur, to which he can only keep moving. Wondering vaguely where Kip is, he watches as Nathan disentangles himself from his partner, unknown to Paul, and begins to head through the crowd, headed for the bar. Alert now, Paul jerks his gaze after Nathan's retreating back, eyes like a hawk, trying to see Seth as well but unable. Wonderingly he stares after Nathan's deliberate steps, pressing his face into Alex's shoulder as they move. Losing himself in the black nothingness of vision depravity, he sighs softly as Alex hugs him tighter, the other being somehow aware of Paul's unhappiness and had shown small attempts at trying to assuage it althroughout the dance. Just forget about it, Paul, he whispers to himself as he lets the music overtake him. If you love something, let it go... if it comes back to you, it was yours to keep...
"Hey."
Softly spoken, the word is gentle with a thinly veiled worry, and it cuts through Seth's reverie like a knife through water. Blinking, he raises his head, coming face to face with Nathan, who is leaning over the counter, his pale skin made a silver blue under the lights above them. His arms folded on the counter, supporting his lean frame, he offers Seth a slow, careful smile, his head tilting to the side as his dark eyes persue Seth's weary ones. His shirt pools over his crossed arms, a mantle of cream in the darkness. Seth offers him a forced half-smile in return, to which Nathan answers by coming around the counter. Slipping into a seat next to his friend, he lays a quiet, familiar hand on Seth's knee. Nathan's expensive, subtle scent invades his senses, along with the crisp optimism that Seth always associated with his presence.
"Are you okay?"
Seth nods at this, a little too hurriedly for Nathan's liking. Sighing, Nathan squeezes Seth's knee, his fingers beginning their ritual massaging that Nathan always performed when he touched Seth. Although Seth would never admit it, he always felt himself relaxing under Nathan's gentle ministrations, and oftentimes lost track of what Nathan spoke of as his fingers produced tingling, swirling ribbons of pleasure to sweep across Seth's skin. Closing his eyes, Seth sits there mutely, his hands folded in his lap and his hair hanging in loose curls around his face. Nathan watches this for a moment, noting Seth's haphazard breathing and tiny, persistant frown of unhappiness.
"I think that's bullshit," Nathan whispers softly, and on an impulse, reaches over to press a tiny, soft kiss to Seth's cheek.
Seth smiles involuntarily at Nathan's words and kiss, feeling those soft lips pressing slowly into his skin. With his eyes still closed, his fingers find the ones rubbing his knee, and he holds them for a moment, squeezing gratefully. Nathan's face slowly moves away; Seth can feel the warm aura pouring like invisable liquid over his skin. But he does not leave completely, instead resting his head on Seth's shoulder, their fingers joined in a mute embrace, Nathan's face creased with worry. Content just to stay like this and avoid the visions of an angel's face with violet eyes that are streaking across his mind, he stiffens slightly in half-irritation and half-shock when Nathan speaks again.
"Paul?"
The name is a statement more than a question, and it is one whose answer would end up exposing alot of things Seth had hitherto kept hidden. It was a leap of faith, to answer that question, and as he glances over at Nathan, he weighs his answer in the other's calm, awaiting gaze. Staring into the depths of the almond shaped dark eyes watching him, he remembers almost emotionlessly the way Nathan had reacted to seeing Paul enter the bar, wearing that godly shirt. Admiration coupled with a burning lust had kindled in Nathan's gaze, an expression that Seth had seen time and time again since he had seen the two of them together. He did not and could not, fault Nathan for it, no matter how much he wished to. He was guilty of more of the same thing. He watches the other quietly for a moment, aware more than ever of Nathan's fingers on his knee, not wanting to break the touch away by words that could very well break their friendship. But the fingers are comforting, almost reassuring, and in this, Seth begins to get the idea that Nathan had been expecting an affirmative to his question before he even voiced it.
"Yes."
He murmurs this as he closes his eyes, but the fingers do not move like he has sudden, flashing nightmares of them doing. Instead they apply more pressure, and he looks over into a pair of eyes whose depths he had not seen so far down into before. They are silent for a moment, a long, telling moment, in which Seth does not close down his gaze but does not offer anything from it either, merely letting Nathan see what he wished. A burning hope rises in Nathan's heart as he sees Seth's clear gaze, a gaze that for once had no shadows in it, merely anguish that wasn't hidden behind walls. It simultaneously breaks and remakes his heart all at once: he knows now that his hope for Paul is all but gone, and instead is replaced with the knowledge that his most treasured friend is letting him into a place that had forever before been off-limits.
"It's hard not to fall in love with someone like that, isn't it..." Nathan says quietly, looking down at their joined hands.
Seth doesn't say anything to this for a while, the word 'love' throwing him off base. But eventually he nods, the admission going deeper than Nathan might have thought it did, certainly much deeper than Seth himself expected as the surprise of sudden, strange tears burns and threatens his vision. It was love. Paul made him believe he was capable of it... therefore it must be. But, still.. so strange. Paul was essentially still a stranger, yet had dug hooks deeper into Seth's heart than Seth thought could ever be humanly possible.
"It's frightening," Seth says, his words an awkward stumbling in the face of the smooth silence. He fights to get them out, wondering bitterly why the emotions that were truest to his heart were the hardest ones to let people see. But the fear is there, the fear of being so desperately in love, and it shakes him to his core. Taking a shaky breath inwards, he smiles weakly as Nathan makes a small noise of commisseration deep in his throat.
"I guess it must be," Nathan says slowly. "Are you going to let this one get away from you, too?"
They share a quiet, wordless glance then: Nathan's eyes full of sympathy and a knowing cast that can only come after years of knowing someone inside and out, and Seth's shimmering slightly with surprise and a deeper thread of rueful acknowledgement. There is sorrow in both their gazes, one having it for having to watch his friend be alone in his own hell for so long, and the other having it because he fears he may have to stay there for countless aeons yet.
"I don't want to.. but I think he does."
Nathan raises his eyebrows as he hears this, trying to get past the incredulous feeling that Seth had finally, for the first time since they've known each other, admitted to wanting someone, and instead focuses on the last part.
"What do you mean?"
"I think I scared him."
Seth looks down as he says this, and stared fixedly at the floor as Nathan puzzles over this.
"How did you...scare him? Scare Paul...? I didn't think that was possible."
Breathing in slowly, tasting the sweat and smoke on the air, combined with the close cleanliness of Nathan beside him, Seth swallows the urge to smash his fists into the bottles behind him, and insead speaks quietly, from a place within his fear of the memory of what had happened between him and Paul.
"Just before you guys came up. He was sitting there... just... talking to me. Sometimes, when he talks, I can't hear what he says because his voice... I don't know how to explain it..."
"Knocks you on your ass," Nathan finishes, grinning at Seth's wry smile.
"Yeah. I got him a drink... and some kid came up, wanting something. So I got him his drink, and as I was mixing it, I heard Paul talking to the guy. He was doing... that.. thing. That thing where he sees straight through you.. sees straight through everything to the core. He told the kid to stay out of the park tonight... I saw his face... it looked like he saw something bad happening.. was so sure it was going to happen... the kid went white. But someone came up behind the boy and took him back to the floor... and I dunno... that's when it happened. Paul looked over at me, from staring at the boy... and his eyes were.... so bright... seeing into a place I could only guess at. He seemed to grow.. fill with a weird light... and the look on his face was so.. powerful. All I could do was stare..."
His voice trails off here, dwindling into the memory, and it is only the soft touch of Nathan's fingers under his own that brings him back, encouraging him to finish. Paul's eyes, as bright as neon violets, burn like beacons in his mind.
"And then he was touching me. I couldn't look away from his eyes... and his fingers were in my hair.. he was touching my face... I felt like I was going to fall apart. I could hear his heart through his fingers.. it was the weirdest thing. When he touched my face.. kept his hand there... all I wanted to do was just... lean across the counter and kiss him... he was so beautiful, right then, in that moment... I thought my heart was going to break. Then he started talking. He saw straight down into me... I swear. He started telling me things... that there was no way he could of known... and I think I started crying. And then some fucking asshole interupted everything... and then he left... and..."
Nathan's hands hold both of his now, trying to calm their shaking slenderness. His eyes are closed, desperately fending off frustrated, whimpering tears, and Nathan leans forward, pressing a deep, knowing kiss to his cheek. They stay like this for a moment, hands locked and Nathan's breath on his cheek, giving him the knowledge of comfort greater than he would have expected from the normally distant twin. The silence is whole, complete, and it is only broken a few long, flowing minutes later by the wet heat of Nathan's voice against his skin.
"Seth, I wouldn't worry."
Seth is silent, swallowing as the whimper threatens again.
"He touched you. I've never seen Paul touch anyone, unless they touched him first. That should be your first sign that he's not going to run off if you show a little emotion in return. Look.. he cares about you; I know he does. Everyone falls in love with you, babe... Paul is no exception."
Seth's shaky laughter brings a smile to Nathan's face, and Seth turns petulant, long-lashed eyes up at him.
"I don't know why they do... I'm really just an asshole."
Nathan's grinding of his fingernails into Seth's palm makes him yelp, and grin.
"But.. really. I would hardly say that... he...has.. fallen..... in love..." Seth stammers, dropping his gaze again as the conversation veers back to the deeply, darkly important.
Nathan's voice, when it comes, is softer than silk, and it slips past Seth's selective hearing and straight into his heart.
"He found out you were gay today. He didn't know about Detours' requirement for working here. When I told him, Seth... the look on his face was like.... fuck... I don't know. Like... orgasmatic. It almost made me piss myself out of shock... I didn't think someone could look so crazily happy. You don't see the way he watches you when you have your back turned... or how there is this sudden light in his eyes whenever your name is brought up into conversation. And I refuse to believe you haven't seen the blush that comes across his face when you come into the room. So.. yes... I would say he has."
Blinking, Seth looks up, and into Nathan's face. Nathan smiles after a moment as he sees the emotions warring across Seth's flawless features, the worrying of his lower lip that Nathan tried not to take into an erotic light. Pushing past all this, Nathan suddenly stands, yanking Seth's hands up with him as he does.
"Get out there," he says suddenly, his eyes full of light and mischief. "Go find him, and ask him to dance. You'll see -- he hasn't been scared off."
And with that, he begins to propell the dazed Seth around the counter, who grabs a hold of one edge, gaping at him.
"But.. but.. the.... bar..." he stammers, pointing at it, but moving past it as Nathan shoves him away.
"I'll handle the bar. I can mix drinks! My best friend is a bartender! Go find Paul!"
And on Nathan's dismissive wave, Seth finds himself moving, in a daze, into the crowd. Blinking stupidly, and trying erase the giddy, stupid smile that is trying to push itself onto his lips, he casts his gaze around, trying to find the dark-haired and bare arm'd countennenace of Paul's unique beauty. After a moment, he finds it. In the corner, watching him. The shock of crashing onto the purple gaze makes him shiver, and he cannot hide the sudden shy smile that invades his lips. Without intervention of his mind, he begins to walk towards the quietly standing Paul, who smiles back with much the same gesture, his fingers lifting and running softly through his hair.
"You're not dancing," Seth manages as he approaches, smiling as Paul's half-smile deepens.
"No... I stepped on Alex's feet too many times... he tired of me."
Paul's wink makes him laugh, and then look down as he feels the full punishment of the lavender gaze. An awkward silence stumbles in, and they stand wordlessly, simply watching each other with intent gazes. Then:
"I have to get back shortly -- Nathan's covering me for now..." Seth winces as he hears his husky, inelegant words, but plunges on anyway, biting his lower lip as Paul watches him. "but I wanted to ask you a question."
Paul tilts his head to the side slightly; Seth watches layers of onyx silk fall like something out of a dream into his eyes.
"Yes?" A simple word, layered with so much. Paul had not dismissed their encounter of earlier, Seth can hear it sitting on the soft tones of his voice, can see the white-hot memory of it in his eyes.
"When is your last class tomorrow?"
Paul frowns slightly in wonder, but answers, even as Seth begins to blush redly.
"Three o'clock. It's my Music Composition class... why?"
"Would it... would it... be okay.. if.. would... do you want to do something, after?"
Oh, Christ, Seth. Jesus fucking Christ. So fucking perfectly STUPID....
But Paul's smile suddenly turns the twisting world inside out, and his heart lurches.
"I'd love to. Do you know where the class is?"
Seth nods. He'd watched Paul dissapear into it many times. But not divulging this, he continues, running his fingers through his hair nervously, affixing Paul with a nervous but eagar grin.
"I could.. meet you there, then."
Paul nods quickly, and the both of them share a smile so achingly shy that it startles the other. But, eventually, remembering himself, Seth steps back, pointing behind him to the bar.
"I've got to get back.. but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
Paul nods again, not trusting himself to speak as the light pours out of Seth's eyes, numbing him to anything else but its brilliance. Feeling his knees going weak, he manages to reply, watching Seth's earthen-spice eyes and long, androgynous eyelashes and hair...
"Okay. If I'm not outside, just come in. It'll just be me in there."
Seth grins helplessly, and with a blindingly magnetic smile, he nods and disapears into the crowd, leaving Paul again, to stand in his wake, ignoring the desire throbbing through him, blinking in startlement and aftershocks of Seth's sudden, sparkling energy. I almost broke everything when I said what I did earlier, he thinks to himself astoundedly. And now... now he wants to... be with me... again. Grinning widely and laughing suddenly into the club dark, he closes his eyes and lets the music sweep him away again, ever so often opening them to find Seth at the bar, his heart shaking with joy.