Logs:Heart Strings
| Heart Strings | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2024-02-13 "Are you both crazy?" (shortly after Matt's confession.) |
| Location
<PRV> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village & texts | |
Understated opulence claims this spacious and well-kept townhome, the decor throughout the whole of it of the highest quality and carefully chosen. The front door opens onto the entrance hall, a closet close at hand to receive coats and shoes -- the pale hardwood floors gleam underfoot, unsullied by tracked-in mess from outside. The living room beyond the entrance is all dark woods and pale earth tones, comfortable couches and armchairs and a thick soft rug laid down beneath. Two large and painstakingly aquascaped aquariums flank the entrance to the dining room, with several brightly coloured species of fish within. Most of the rest of the wall space, notably, is taken up with shelves -- shelves crammed with books of every subject and genre. A study branching off of the main hall is cozy, small, done in pale blues and lined with books as well around the large computer desk and smaller futon, though these rarer books are cased behind glass. Another securely locked door leads to the basement, and another to the full bathroom downstairs. The kitchen connects to the living room; in contrast, it is sleek and modern and well-appointed, stocked by someone who takes their cooking seriously. And takes their alcohol equally seriously -- to one side of the kitchen there is a fully-stocked bar. The back door to the kitchen looks out on a small well-kept garden. Even at a party he himself has planned, there's only so much of People that is tolerable at a stretch; it's not unusual, really, that Lucien was taking a brief sanity break in his room. The sanity part is being tested severely at the moment, though. Perhaps he had intended to return to his (self-appointed) Host Duties sooner than this. Instead he is sitting in his desk chair, absently crunching a handful of nanodot magnets in his palm as his other presses over his mouth. To hide a smile? Perhaps, but his voice is very solemn when he finally speaks: "Goodness, but I thought you would never get up the nerve to tell him. I take it from your --" Through this faint beat of hesitation he is quirking an eyebrow up, looking over his brother thoughtfully, "-- state that it went poorly. My condolences." Matt's state is sprawled facedown across the futon, his groan muffled and likewise his reply. "Oh gods, it was dreadful." At least now he turns his head, pillowed on one arm, to face his brother. "Naturally, he thought it charity. Or cruelty." He props himself up to reach for his glass–hopefully that's water–but either thinks better of it or gets distracted by incipient panic. "Perhaps it is cruelty. Certainly it's irresponsible. What was I thinking? We're both stark raving mad and his–Bacchae make us look sane. I should back out." He struggles upright, dismay shifting readily to vehemence. "Where does he get off being so godsdamned wonderful? It's disgusting. I ought to put him–well, not on his knees, probably, though for all I know, he's shopping for adaptive dungeon furniture as we speak." He blows out a long breath and subsides back against the futon. "We can worry about that if we get through our date tomorrow." "Naturally the conclusion he would draw," Lucien agrees easily enough. "I can truly think of no other reason anyone might display an interest in him. I'm sure the experience was quite novel." He is casually leaning forward to switch out Matt's glass, during this distraction, replacing it with a water that he nudges pointedly into his brother's hands. His encouraging agreement is continuing on to, "Disgusting. Preposterous. Unconscionable, really." He's sipping from Matt's original glass (probably not water, but he's not drunk, here.) "I happen to know how insufferably delightful you are as well, though, so I think a fitting punishment would be sitting through the absolute fiasco that --" But here Matt's words catch up to him and his eyes have opened a touch wider; it's only by dint of pressing his knuckles to his lips that he doesn't spittake. "-- My gods, did you say tomorrow?" He's set the bunch of magnets aside without even bothering to form them back into their original cube shape. He's reaching calmly enough for his mouse to wake his computer up, add: "Matt/Ryan désastre" to his press to-do list, mark it urgent, but there's a growing jangle of panic stuttering through his mental landscape. It's nevertheless mild when he speaks again: "{Please tell me you are opting for a nice, private dinner at home.}" "I am delightful," Matt agrees, accepting the glass and taking a gulp. His eyes narrow at Lucien--at least he's not too drunk or otherwise altered to notice he's been duped--but then he twitches an approving smile and drinks deeper. "But the delight didn't work because he was too busy sabotaging himself which..." He splays his free hand delicately across his chest, just the tips of his fingers making contact. "...I would never. So then, I had to weaponize my own history of being exceptionally fuckable through many bouts of serious illness. This is terrible, I shouldn't have to beguile him into wanting me. Oh gods..." He's edging sidelong toward panic again, and knocks back the rest of his water as if that will help (admittedly, it might). "What if he doesn't want me. Maybe he pities me for being smitten. This is my consolation prize for losing our decade-long game of reverse gay chicken. Or, he actually likes me." He drags his hand down his face, eyes wide and bewildered. "What do I do with that? You're right, this is a disaster, and I ought not to have dropped it on you last-minute. {You might as well put me out of my misery before--}" He sits up abruptly, swaying in place, hand lifted reflexively to his mouth. "{Oh dear, we got quite distracted and didn't decide on a venue. Or anything whatsoever}--gods damn him for being such a good kisser!" --- "Gosh, but it sure took y'all long enough." Jax has been slowly nibbilng on the slivers of strawberry that decorate the swirl of frosting on his chocolate-strawberry-shortcake cupcake, determined to enjoy his dessert regardless of having been abruptly dragged away from the table and corralled in here. He's perched atop the bathroom sink, leg swinging to slowly thump one heel against the cabinet door. Despite his cavalier tone there's amusement and worry mingled equal parts in the emotions that flavor his words sharp to Ryan's senses. "I do feel like you oughta tone down the smug juuust --" He's holding forefinger and thumb up an eensy smidge apart. "-- considering it took you a decade of shameless hussy behavior to land the only --" He doesn't actually pause here, but there's an abrupt spike of grief that jars other emotions out of place, for just an instant before veering easily back to amusement. "Well, one'a the only ones of our friends who's a bigger ho than you are." "I know! What was he thinking, I've been hot as hell all goddamn decade." The smug is, in fact, still radiating off of Ryan in pleased wave, only augmented when he follows up: "He's having a big-big freakout over there." He's gesturing somewhat unnecessarily to the wall that separates this luxurious bathroom from Luci's modest bedroom. "Anyway, we haven't done any ho shit yet, that's gonna have to wait till after our date tomorrow --" Though here Ryan is veering abruptly into indignation. "-- you seriously think he's a bigger ho than I am?" He's eying the door and the continuing festive noises from beyond it with a sudden keen consideration. "Oh, an' you ain't doing even a little bit of freaking out, I'm sure." There's a fond amusement in Jax's words, even as he follows Ryan's look toward the door. "Boy, if you even thinkin' 'bout going out there an' hooking up with someone at his birthday party five minutes after he asked you --" Here he's sitting up straighter, though, his brows furrowing; there's an unsteady flutter of the lights around them as his worry spikes brighter. "-- did you say tomorrow, are you both crazy, you tryna give Luci a heart attack, you tryna get yourself killed? Please tell me y'all doin' something real lowkey an' quietish." Ryan looks just a little bit miffed at Jax's preemptive censure. His abruptly broader smile is probably not a very convincing cover that he Totally Was Not Thinking of doing exactly that. He spreads his hands up in front of him, looking away from the door and back to Jax. "Please, do I look quietish to you? 'sides, Luci likes looking longsuffering and he loves a challenge." The tip of his head after this looks genuinely quizzical. "It's just a date, what could I possibly be freaking out about?" --- It's the small hours of the morning when Matt's phone starts buzzing. There's been a string of Signal messages in very short succession, though in equally short succession they're vanishing -- within a span of a minute all that is left in his notification bar is: Ryan Black · Signal · now This message was deleted. This message was deleted. This message was deleted. It takes a short while for anything else to come through and when it does, finally, it's:
Perhaps surprisingly on a school night, a reply comes in very short order.
This time there's a considerable delay before Ryan's next texts.
There's a small delay from Matt, haunted by the blandly animated dots of the typing indicator.
Again, a long pause.
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