unfinished, untitled.

Ilie Mihăileanu. 27. Romanian. Belleville. Art teacher. Gay. A work in progress. Paris

[screedits]

matty healy

[maxgerritsen-deactivated2018082]

tumblr; @insurrecti0nal 💿

[iliefolie]

henrichimie:

Henri gave the Romanian man what he hoped was a genuine and reassuring smile. He realized it was almost like a date and if he was honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind if this was a date. But he had a feeling Ilie would freak out if he said that it was. “Where am I coming from? Ilie, you are a fascinating man and I enjoy spending time with you and listening to what you have to say. When we went out for lunch before the school year was one of the most memorable moments I had since living here in Paris and I want to know you better.”

The Belgian nodded at the news about the calls and getting to bed reasonably early. “I promise we won’t be out too late. I need to get to bed at a somewhat reasonable time as well since we both teach in the morning. And if the calls you are expecting come in while we are out, I don’t care if you answer them or if you need to step away or something.” he rambled a bit before he realized that Ilie agreed. A bright smile crossed his face. “Excellent! Thank you for agreeing. But before our adventure can begin, I will help you with what needs to be done here unless you don’t want me to.”

Face feeling wickedly hot, Ilie busied himself with aggressively rinsing out more brushes. The openness that Henri displayed was extremely unfamiliar for the Romanian, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he needed to react. A lunch, being memorable? With him, the chattering mess? It was hard to believe, and Ilie’s subconscious still wanted to say that the Belgian only wanted something from him, but Henri just seemed so genuine.

He didn’t have a chance to say anything else, though, as his phone began ringing. Ilie clumsily flung water off his hands again and fumbled to pull his phone out of his pocket. It was a little early for any of his family to be calling, but it turned out to be a friend located in America. “Hello?” he answered in English, but the word was barely out of his mouth when a very loud ‘Happy birthday’ was being shouted at him through the phone, more than loud enough for Henri to hear. Ilie winced and turned the faucet off, letting out a weak laugh. “Yes, yes, thank you love, though you know how I feel about my birthday. Shouldn’t you be at work? I don’t want you to lose your job over doing something as silly as this.” He was trying to make this conversation as short as possible while trying not to be rude; and he glanced at Henri, figuring the birthday cat was out of the birthday bag. “Yes, I love you too, Charlotte. Take care.” He ended the call, internally wincing as he held onto the phone, expecting the worst.

[iliefolie]

griffinfischer:

“You’re really incredible, did you know that?” Shifting in his spot, Griffin made sure to catch Ilie’s eye. “Seriously. That fighting spirit is unique and impressive. Not many people can say they’ve gone through what you have been through and come out on the other side well. You should applaud yourself for that, honestly.” A frown formed across his face. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. Truthfully, you’re one of the smartest people I know here. But…I suppose, on a certain level…I can relate to the lack of self care thing.” Griffin paused to cough, gazing away from Ilie. He was felling as if he was starting to know the boy well, and really connect with him, but he did not even fathom having to confess how haunted his own lack of self care was in the past. “We all have our demons, even the best of us.”

Blushing faintly, Ilie rubbed the back of his neck, feeling sheepish and quite flattered. “I’m human and that’s all I can really be,” he mumbled. “It’s useless to try and be anything but human because it’s not possible, so all we can really do is navigate ourselves the best way we can through this weird human experience.” He dipped the tip of his ring finger into the strawberry compote on his plate, and then gently dabbed it onto his napkin portrait of Griffin, putting a flush on his cheeks ans just adding another dimension of realism. “When I first started seeing a therapist in high school--I don’t actually remember this but I wrote it down--she said not one person in this earth is truly alone. And at the time I was hurting, on top of being a teenager, so I thought she was bullshitting me. But all of our human experiences are not totally unique. And even if you never meet someone who’s had it just like you, you’re bound to find someone who’s gone through something similar in some way and is capable of giving you support if you just let them.” He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t think I’m necessarily naturally smart though. I just retain a lot of stuff I’ve seen and heard.”

[henrichimie-blog]

iliefolie:

“Ah.” It made Ilie wonder why the other was so interested in hearing about something as mundane as how he’d been, why Henri was being so nice to him. “I’m fine,” he answered with a bit of a weak smile; really he hadn’t been any particular way besides existing in stasis. “Nothing interesting has happened, I am just living my life, and that’s really it. Teaching school and existing.” He shook the curl out of his face and rinsed a couple more brushes, though the hair fell right back into place. “Nothing to report, just normal days.”

He really didn’t want to mention his birthday, as others often made a bigger deal out of it than he wanted it to be. It just marked another year of him existing, what was so exciting about that? He gladly wished others happy birthdays and gave them gifts, but his own felt so much more unimportant, so he just kept it under wraps so he wouldn’t feel selfish or like he needed to be the center of attention just for having been born so many years plus nine months after a revolution. “Er…what about you, then? Thank you, by the way.”

Henri turned to listen to Ilie speak once he was finished leaving the palettes to soak so he could focus on what the other man was saying. He wondered if the other was really fine. “I know that feeling I suppose. With just keeping busy with all the various antics that your students do in the classroom but not much happening outside of school hours…”

He hummed quietly as he thought about how to answer the other. “I’m alright. As you mentioned there is nothing super interesting that has happened. It seems like there is always some sort of drama going on with teenagers and that spills into class but I try to stay on top of that.” He flashed the Romanian a smile. “Oh, you’re welcome!” Henri exclaimed before he continued. “I was wondering if you were free this evening? We could go out and about… maybe get a bite to eat or go see a gallery or something. I think your classroom is giving me inspiration.”

[iliefolie]

"What?" Turning his head to look at the other, Ilie looked surprised at the offer. Another meal out, and spending time with each other? It almost sounded like a date, and he turned his head back to what he was working on, a faint flush on his face. "That's very nice of you to offer, though I'm not sure where you're coming from with it." He tucked his loose strand of curls behind his ear with a soapy hand, grazing his cheek bone with a bit of colorful water.

"I would rather not be out very late. I'm waiting on a few calls, actually; and my nightly dose of medication tends to make me very tired and I have a tendency to sleep in too late if I don't go to bed at the right time--" He tucked the curl behind his ear again as he stammered, trying to find some good reason to go, trying to convince himself it was okay. Ilie flicked the water off his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, blushing again; he was afraid he was starting to sound like a lunatic. "Um... Ouais...?"

[iliefolie]

henrichimie:

“Oh no, you are not keeping me! I decided to drop by because I was curious how you were doing. I’m not really in any real rush to get home although if I am keeping you here and distracting you, you can just tell me.” Henri exclaimed as he watched as Ilie continue. In a way it was very similar to when he had to clean the used glassware and lab equipment that his chemistry class used on lab days.

At the suggestion for what he could do to help, he smiled and rolled up his sleeves to make sure that none of the paint would get onto his shirt. “Sure. I don’t mind doing that, Ilie.” he remarked before he began making his way through the art room and collecting the palettes as requested before setting them in the other sink so he could fill it with soapy water. “Oh! I was more curious about what you were up to and how your day has been going so far. It’s been a bit since we last had a chance to talk to one another.”

“Ah.” It made Ilie wonder why the other was so interested in hearing about something as mundane as how he’d been, why Henri was being so nice to him. “I’m fine,” he answered with a bit of a weak smile; really he hadn’t been any particular way besides existing in stasis. “Nothing interesting has happened, I am just living my life, and that’s really it. Teaching school and existing.” He shook the curl out of his face and rinsed a couple more brushes, though the hair fell right back into place. “Nothing to report, just normal days.”

He really didn’t want to mention his birthday, as others often made a bigger deal out of it than he wanted it to be. It just marked another year of him existing, what was so exciting about that? He gladly wished others happy birthdays and gave them gifts, but his own felt so much more unimportant, so he just kept it under wraps so he wouldn’t feel selfish or like he needed to be the center of attention just for having been born so many years plus nine months after a revolution. “Er...what about you, then? Thank you, by the way.”

[iliefolie]

henrichimie:

Henri looked around the classroom curiously as he stepped further into the room. Mentally he wondered if the class had finished doing something hands on before his brain caught up to him and he realized that of course there would be art projects happening all the time in the art room. He spotted Ilie over by the sink rinsing out cups and brushes and made his way over.

As he got closer he noticed that the Romanian man looked very appealing in the way he was dressed with the hair and the rolled up sleeves on his button up. He shot the other man a smile and set his bag down. “Would you like a hand?” he asked as he looked at the art supplies waiting for their turn in the sink. “It would be no trouble…”

“Oh, you really don’t need to, I would hate to keep you from getting home.” The stress and tiredness was audible in his little breathy laugh as he ran his thumb over a brush under the stream of water. “I’m used to doing this by myself, so I’ve got it down to a science because I know how I like to do things.” He applied a bit of baby shampoo to the hairs he was cleaning, as it seemed the paint had been drying in them a little bit longer.

“If you really would like to help me, you could at least go and pick up the palettes out on the tables so I can clean those too.” He peeked over his shoulder at the handful of palettes spread between a few of the work tables. “Some of that paint is looking a little dry... Perhaps you could fill up that other sink with dish soap and let them soak for me please.? They’re only plastic.” He looked back to the brush he was cleaning and rinsed it off, placing it on the towel on the counter next to the sink he was using. “Did you need something, by the way?”

[iliefolie]

henrichimie:

Classes had recently let out for the day and Henri was finished with the bit of grading that he had to do earlier than he expected therefore giving him the evening free. Curiously, he left his classroom after shuffling his things into his bag and headed over to the art rooms inside of the school to see if Ilie was still around that afternoon. He was thankful that they both didn’t have to sit through a rather dull staff meeting. He also just felt like doing something with his friend would be preferable to spending the evening alone.

The Belgian man peeked in the classroom through the doorway and knocked on the frame when he spotted the other man inside. “Hey there, Ilie. Is this a bad time? I just felt like saying hello and seeing how you were doing…”

@iliefolie

Notifications had been causing Ilie’s phone to buzz on and off all day with text messages and Facebook posts reminding him that it was his birthday, an event he hadn’t felt particularly excited about for most of his life; nevertheless, he still planned on politely thanking everyone who wished him a happy twenty-seventh and then spending a quiet evening alone, talking to his family members on Skype and over the phone. In France, school days ended much later than in America, where he had student taught and substituted, so he had much less of the evening left to spend like so until his usual evening medication dosage put him out for the night.

His upper level students were experimenting with gouache that day during class, and with classes all over for the day he was now cleaning up the supplies--storing the paints in the supply closet, and washing the brushes and water cups in one of the sinks in the room, whilst trying his best not to get any paint on his shirt or vest. A loose curl hung in his face as he rinsed out a cup, his back to the door, and he noticed only belatedly that he had a visitor.

“Oh, bonjour, Professeur Vandroogenbroeck!” he called over his shoulder a little breathlessly, still in polite instructor mode. “No, no, I am only cleaning up after the day’s lessons, it’s hardly a bad time.” Before, Ilie wanted to get out as quickly as possible so he could get home; but now, well...he did have some time to spare for this specific visitor.

[iliefolie]

@iliefolie: well i'm not getting any younger. joyeux anniversaire à moi - la mulți ani mie - happy birthday to me

[iliefolie]

griffinfischer:

Looking at Ilie’s hand, Griffin was astonished to hear he even tried to draw with it again. He had broken his collarbones before, and those breaks alone made him nearly want to never hold a camera up again in fear they would break once more and cause him pain. To hear Ilie not only went right to using it again but also learned to use his other hand in the process while his collarbone also was broken was incredible. He could hardly believe his ears. “You were truly dedicated to your craft, then. I commend you on that, really. I was a wimp with my breaks. I swear my photography was shit for the first few weeks after I regained use of either arm because I was too scared to try to use them when they broke.” Sipping from his drink, Griffin chuckled to himself. “I’m reckless and don’t always take care of myself, but when something is broken, I draw the line.”

“I guess I’m just what you’d call a fighter,” Ilie commented as he rested his head on his other hand. He set down his pen and cut out a bite of his crêpe, slowly lifting it to his mouth; he was starting to feel sluggish. “Or just a straight up stubborn asshole. My dad always said I was stronger than I like to let on. But when you find something you love doing, you keep doing it. When I had those injuries, they came along with other injuries, and this huge sense of hopelessness. I didn’t want that one joy, that one skill, that one escape that I had to be stolen away. And playing guitar or piano requires both hands. I didn’t want art to be taken away from me. I’d always been interested in the lives and influences of my favorite artists, but that time is also when I got deeper into the actual art history. When practicing with my left hand gave me cramps, I would go read.” He took another slow bite of his crêpe. “When I got hurt like that, it was right after I’d won a nationwide art contest. I ended up winning it again the next year, my final year of high school, even after going through all that shit that affected my handedness.” He paused again, this time longer to take a long sip from his tea. “One of my therapists in the past said that we all have our own thresholds that are formed from our personal experiences plus what our bodies and minds are capable at their strongest; and it’s not fair to compare ourselves to others just because our thresholds are different.” He closed his eyes and smacked his lips, pulling all the flavors from the tea. “But also I’m a fucking idiot and self care is a foreign concept to me.”

[iliefolie]

griffinfischer:

“Thank you,” Griffin told Ilie, because who else had really been so kind as to gradually teach him and show him kindness besides Alissa? Ilie really cared to show him compassion. It touched Griffin. It touched him almost as much as Ilie’s saddened words and beautiful sketch of him did. It broke his heart and mended it all at once. “If…if you ever need someone to turn to when you’re not exactly…okay, I’m here for you. In other news, that drawing is incredible, Ilie. Really.” Scooting his chair to the side, he tried to get a better look at it. “I’m truly impressed.”

Ilie looked up at Griffin and blinked somewhat owlishly. He’d been seeing therapists since he was in high school, but they sometimes felt pretty condescending and didn’t always help. And the friends he’d made in college tended to treat him like he was fragile. He still saw a therapist and had kept up with his closer friends from college, but he often felt like he was still bottling too much up and never really got to vent about anything without feeling afraid that he might sound crazy. “Alright,” he nodded slowly, “I’ll keep that in mind. And thanks.” His concentration on his drawing was broken for the time being so he stopped. “I broke this wrist once,” he commented, wiggling his right hand, the one he was drawing with. “I don’t remember a lot of the time but my dad tells me I was so devastated that I learned to write and draw with my left hand. I’m still not amazing with my left hand but it’s not total shit. I was recovering for a while because it was the wrist and not just the arm, and my collar bone was broken too. And I didn’t want to stop drawing or painting.”

[iliefolie]

griffinfischer:

Griffin was impressed by Ilie’s carrying skills, though he had more intense thoughts on the brain. He probably would have made a comment about it had Ilie not placed the most gorgeous of pastries before him. That, and gone into drawing on napkins. Griffin was impressed. “I’m around Louvre. As for France in general, a few months. I’m sadly not that quick of a learner when it comes to anything not art or photography, so that is why my French doesn’t reflect it.” Griffin chuckled to himself, breaking off a bit of his crêpe. “I don’t have your number, I would love to share my equally-art-filled Instagram with you, and I’ve never been too big on Twitter. Though, I am on it to stalk celebrities. Silly habit, I guess,” he trailed off. Gnawing at his lip, Griffin looked up to Ilie and caught his eye. “You mentioned your time as a waiter. Not to erm…pry or anything, but it sounded pretty rough? Is all well now?”

Dipping the edge of a napkin into his tea, Ilie used it to wipe off his lipstick, which was drying the hell out of his lips. “I’ll give you my number and my Insta, okay? My number is important.” With one napkin covered in streaks of dusty purple lipstick, he returned to his drawing, which was now obviously of a person. He nodded along as he listened to Griffin. “I live in Belleville, and I’m going on my third year here, but I visited twice for summer college programs. I just wanted to help you with your French ‘cause I know lots of French people are really rude to people who don’t speak their language. Especially Americans and British.  And I don’t want someone being an asshole to you just ‘cause you aren’t magically fluent in French. I dunno how much you know about the politics of Europe but I’ve gotten plenty of hatred just for being from Eastern Europe. It’s not quite the same thing but...I still don’t want people doing that to you.” He paused in his drawing again, and took several moments to glance up towards Griffin, before returning to his drawing. “Relative to how other people see ‘well’, absolutely not. Relative to me, it’s...okay, I guess? Certainly not much better but I don’t want to be fired from my job for showing up drunk or high.” He fell silent again, working on his picture--it was a little portrait of Griffin, mostly realistic with a semi-dreamy quality to it. “Brain’s always been a little out of whack. I’m still a work in progress.”

[iliefolie]

henrichimie:

Henri nodded with a slight frown at the other’s comments about musicians getting a pass and the unfair reputation that artists tended to get. “It really isn’t right how that is the stereotype that tends to plague artists, and I do honestly believe that it certainly keeps some kids from going into those fields. The world has become so technology driven that I feel that there is so much pressure to go into something in the sciences and it is adding unneeded pressure on the kids. I don’t play music but what you said about musicians also feeling the pressure makes sense as well.”

He gave the Romanian a smile as a lull formed in the conversation and both of their teas arrived. Once their server left he picked up his cup and took a sip with a relaxed sigh. “There is something to be said about having a nice cup of tea with good company to enjoy it with.”

Ilie looked up from stirring a bit more honey into his tea, a hint of pink embellishing his confused expression. “Merci...?” He busied himself with with his stirring, trying to quell the various thoughts that were attempting to plague him. He’s into you, he’s flirting! was pushed aside by He’s only being nice because he wants something from you, and he won’t take no for an answer! Ilie’s jaw clenched minutely; this would be a terrible time for his panic disorder to pop up, when he was trying to be cool and smart and likable and normal. “I drink a lot of tea but not with people often. I don’t make a point of it, I mean. “ What was he trying to say? He shook his head, trying to clear it up. “I mean I don’t go out and have tea, or have people over just for tea.”

[iliefolie]

henrichimie:

Henri watched his companion idly as he looked over the menu before he turned his attention to his own and decided that he would be having some tea as well along with a sandwich for himself. A server came by to take their order while Ilie was obviously trying to gather his thoughts about something. He decided to wait and not disrupt whatever the other man was trying to say.

As he listened to the Romanian speak, he nodded along to show that he understood what he was trying to say. There was a hidden depth to Ilie, one that he knew about but it was still so fascinating to actually be on the other side and experience it for himself. He really wanted to get to know the other man better. He felt like he was learning so much.

“The people who thought you were stupid just because you enjoy art and literature instead of the sciences severely underestimated you and I am glad that you made a real statement by acing that test even though you admitted that you are not the best with exams. I don’t enjoy those stereotypes that you can only really like one set of things and what you enjoy determines your personality and intelligence somehow. It just does not make sense to me. The comment about musicians also enjoying science and math is not a surprising one to me at all. There is a lot of math in music after all. And it isn’t right how much more difficult it is to find and maintain a livable career in the arts versus in the sciences.”

He chuckled a bit at the spectrum analogy and nodded once more. “I do see what you mean though with art and science being more of a spectrum and they feed off of one another.”

“I think you could even argue that, with all of the studies showing that practicing an instrument helps students become better in other areas, musicians are still getting a free pass. And I say this as someone who does play music. The musicians are still seen as more intelligent, while the artists are lazy drug addicts with no real motivations or aspirations.” Ilie stared out the window once again, his hand on the table finding a fork and idly twisting it between his fingers. “My whole life, I’ve known the musicians to be known as the smart kids. That does create another fallacy for kids who begin learning music, for them to be pressured into trying to be seen as more traditionally intelligent; but that’s a topic for another time, for someone with more firsthand experience being known as a ‘musician’ as their ‘thing.’”

He sat back in his chair, only momentarily glancing across at Henri. His naturally softer voice, only ever amplified for teaching lessons (or when he was drunk) was already beginning to fade the more faint he felt, especially from his broken-up soliloquies. He didn’t seem to be scaring Henri, though, with all of his deep thoughts, which was a blessing.

[iliefolie]

henrichimie:

He sighed as Ilie correctly pointed out how common it was that art and science were so divided in the modern day and nodded. “I really hate that things are so divided like that. It’s difficult for some of my students to grasp some concepts because they like to claim they can’t really do any science at all when I know they can if they look at the problem a different way. I try to do what I can to show that science and the arts are not as separate as people usually believe. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow some of those examples though or come to you for more ideas about this and getting my students to see it. I feel that when people claim science is “more important,”” here he did finger quotes, “it really hurts the arts. Especially art programs in schools.

He smiled and led them up over to a table so they could sit and look over the menu. “Feel free to order whatever drink you like as well as something to eat if you want. It is my treat today since I asked and I have really enjoyed our conversation so far.”

It wasn’t Ilie’s first visit to this particular café; but this time, when accompanying a cute coworker, he felt more compelled to seem ‘normal’ and decided it would be best to eat at least something. He scoured the menu almost desperately, looking for something that wouldn’t weigh him down too much. Meals in Romania were often rather large, even eating in a restaurant; and budget restaurant dining in America had rather large portions, but living in France didn’t have this problem (even if it meant he was paying more for less food). A spinach quiche sounded fine and wouldn’t clash too much with his green tea with honey. He set down his menu and stared out the window for a few moments, ruminating.

“I was always labeled as an artistic child,” Ilie finally spoke after milling over his words. “My whole life, that’s who I was, so I was expected to not excel in other areas because apparently art automatically makes one stupid. I think the term in English would be pigeonhole? I was forced under that stereotype. And not to say I am any type of genius in any area. But I don’t think I was ever stupid just because I preferred art and occasional literature. The fact that I was bad at tests never helped my case. In Romania, for high school, you have to take a test to determine what type of high school you’ll attend. Standard high school, technical or economic school, trade school, military college, or national college, which was the best. You could list the ones you wanted to go to; and the higher your score on the test was, the more likely you’d go to the one you wanted. My father taught at a national college, arguably the best in the country, and as I mentioned before, his subject was physics, and he’s never had the greatest understanding of art. But I wanted so badly to make him proud that I blew the test out of the water, as they say, which...I think surprised many people when I wasn’t stupid from just drawing all day in my notebooks. And, unlike in France, the type of high school you went to in Romania didn’t limit your choices in higher education; you could choose any type of university or anything you desired. I could have gone to the National University, but went for the art school instead.”

He rested his chin on his palm and stared out the window again, collecting more of his thoughts as he drummed his fingertips against his lips. “Those interested in science and math, I think, also fall under a stereotype of being boring and having no other engaging interests. But some of the greatest musicians I’ve met had chosen careers in math and science and engineering because they liked it more and just saw music as a hobby--or because they were still given the impression that careers in the arts were hard to achieve and maintain.” He closed his eyes and ran his fingertip over his lower lip. “What I am trying to say is that it is not black and white, science and math versus the arts. It’s more of a spectrum. You have the color spectrum in art, which cannot be possible without the visible spectrum in light in science, but art helps us understand these colors in the spectrum more. Do you see what I mean?”

[iliefolie]

@iliefolie: y'all pray for my boy @griffinfischer, ain't nothing wrong with him, I just want him to succeed and prosper and have happiness.

[iliefolie]

griffinfischer:

Even though Griffin had said he would pay, he found himself unable to do anything but accept Ilie’s kind words to take care of the tab. He could not think straight enough to do anything other than seek out the nearest empty table and go for it. All he could think about was his past, the way Alissa looked at him in horror when he was high on coke, and the terrible, gruesome dreams he had during withdrawals. It was nearly enough to cost him his appetite. That changed of course when Ilie arrived with the orders. His hungry stomach won over his mind in this instance. “Smells good.”

“Right?” Ilie’s arrival was rather graceful for someone who still had alcohol in his system and had tasked himself with carrying two plates and two steaming cups--a plate balanced on each outstretched arm, and a cup in each hand. “I don’t normally have such decadent things but I guess a little treat is good sometimes.” Carefully he set everything down and sat across from Griffin, taking out the napkins and pen he had stashed in his pocket. “I was a waiter and food runner through most of university, and I turned up to a lot of shifts high or tipsy or hungover, or going through a mental episode or even just going through a medication adjustment, so I got pretty good at it,” he explained, cutting off a piece of his crêpe and directing it to his mouth. “Nutella makes me feel like I’m sinning but Tată says I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.” He snorted and clicked the pen, starting a drawing on a napkin. “What area do you live in? How long have you been in France? Do you have my phone number? I can’t remember. I have an instagram but I mostly post art on it, and I always forget that I hate Twitter, not that anyone would be too interested in reading my Tweets.” He usually wasn’t this talkative when sober, but he also wasn’t so drunk that he was completely embarrassing himself. He occasionally glanced up at Griffin as he talked and sketched.