𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖉 ♱ 𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 ♱ 𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙 ♱ 𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖞 ♱ 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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🪼

Andulka
ojovivo

shark vs the universe
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
styofa doing anything
Show & Tell
will byers stan first human second
Stranger Things
dirt enthusiast
todays bird
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Peter Solarz

Love Begins

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
No title available

#extradirty

seen from Malaysia
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@tenshiei
𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖉 ♱ 𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 ♱ 𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙 ♱ 𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖞 ♱ 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘
It is an act of undressing, a complete mental unraveling. The sort of masochistic tango that always left him wanting, teetering along the edge between desire and motion. There were times where it was easy to forget how temporary all of this was … and times where the lack of permanence seemed to be favorable ── part of the chase, the thrill. He was leaving town tomorrow night, slipping into the crowd and crammed into a bus. Bursting the dream - like close quarters they had been enjoying, yet it came as no surprise. This was their life, after all.
Cillian removes his hands from the lining of his pockets, grazing the curves of the other’s hips before looping, shifting around to the small of his back … heading down, down, down, until the ends of his fingers slide underneath the back of the waistband of Julian’s pants. Flesh against flesh, he pulls them in closer, decimating what little space had been between them in the first place.
❛ I can show you that better than I could tell you … give you a reason to come back. If you want. ❜ His voice is low, and steady ── flooded with deep and tantalizing intonations, eyes flickering across the landscape of Julian’s features before settling on the pout that had formed on his lips.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤYeah. He was definitely going to miss him.
joint still pinched between two fingers, julian's other hand insists on keeping up its incessant teasing with the jacket zipper. only when cillian pulls him closer does julian stop, smiling in spite of his obvious attempt at getting under the other musician's skin. he's wearing his regular docs tonight, no platforms to bridge the gap between their heights. julian makes up for this discrepancy by stepping up onto cillian's boots without hesitation, free arm winding around his neck to keep steady. hanging off of him now, warm hands on his skin, julian is right where he wants to be.
a simple "yes" would have sufficed, but julian knows himself. he prefers the prolonged banter, craves something that makes the end result feel earned. the joint is brought up to his own lips as he regards cillian with a critical gaze, though there is no hiding the spark of amusement behind it. puff, puff. he says nothing at first, expression contemplative—basking in the glow of cillian's full attention.
❝ can you, though? 'cause i'm starting to think you're all talk, roseingrave. ❞ julian's head tilts slightly, studying the other's face in return. as if he doesn't already have it committed to memory. he's been waiting for a moment to get this close, a chance to exchange more than fleeting glances in some studio or a stare from across a bar. now that the opportunity is here, the tension feels so much heavier than julian could have anticipated. there is a sharp edge to his voice when he speaks again, every drop of short-lived sweetness from earlier non-existent. ❝ are you gonna fucking miss me, or not? ❞
CONTINUED, FROM HERE ( ... ) FEATURING ALUKAH & JULIAN DEVEREAUX. @tenshiei.
𝓣he eldest daughter often carried the sins of her mother. Harbored every ounce of rage, every grudge, every scorned marker seared into her heart. She had no sympathy for the angels that fell from the sky, in the same way she had no sympathy for a bird with a broken wing ( JUST SNAP THE NECK ALREADY ) … There’s a curt smile that graces her lips, as though the creature in front of her was a babbling child — amusing, sure, but simply not worth the time. Alukah leans forward, awfully close, tucking lush strands of curls out of his face, behind his ear. Her fingers graze along the sharp planes of his cheekbones, inching closer … closer. Until her lips skim the shell of his ear, and she whispers.
❛ No … but they’ll break again. When He kicks you out of His little clubhouse, for daring to have a mind of your own. Trust me. Happens every time. ❜
is there a point to all this? the angel has to wonder with each word alukah speaks, if she has some hidden agenda up her sleeve. one that would see julian coming out of his attempted retirement and joining is some other war. this one would likely have nothing to do with him, but his curiosity is piqued nonetheless. after losing almost everything, the last of his rage remains.
❝ they won't break again, ❞ he insists fiercely, glaring at the beautiful face before him even as alukah finds it necessary to lay hands on him to get her point across. wings still cloaked, julian is frozen in place. let her think she's getting under his skin. he's seen too much and done unspeakable things in this form, more than he ever did as a human being. fear doesn't touch him as deeply anymore. ❝ you let me worry about that... if the time comes. ❞
SYMPATHY DID NOT COME NATURALLY TO PLACID, a man with a function rather than feelings. He was not cruel in any sense of the word, took no pleasure in the suffering of others, but he would forever see puzzles in place of people, and at times needed to be reminded of his own humanity.
"Why are you in a cemetery in the first place?" he asked, wanting the finer details before he implicated himself in a crime. The inspector observed Julian with a stillness and detachment that was far from the chaos of his counterpart, and some small part of him wondered if the difference would be unnerving to observe. Had he met Julian before? Or were his memories of him simply transferred over from Potty? He could not recall. He supposed it didn't really matter. "What brings you here so late at night?"
❝ why the fuck do you think? i was visiting someone. i'm not out here having a fucking picnic for christ's sake. ❞ he's always preferred to visit imari at night, the day far too bright and cheerful. it feels too much like an exposed nerve to observe his own grief in broad daylight. the sun doesn't deserve to look upon his face in that state.
groaning, he leans against the bars and glares up at alfendi. julian has no clue why the inspector is acting this way, but it's beginning to gnaw at the last of his patience. ❝ i don't like coming here as it is, so will you stop being a dick and help me? please. ❞ the please comes out sounding exasperated, hand pathetically reaching out to alfendi again. ❝ get me out of here and i'll owe you one. within reason. ❞
˖ ‧ ᯓ ☦︎ ▒ . ❘❘❘ ──── ‘ i know to be careful ’ , ilya wants to say to / @tenshiei .
all he had been for the past few years was careful . the only thing he had been more than careful was scolded at by shane for not being so . plenty of times shane had rushed ilya inside the door with a grimace on his face in an attempt to hide their tryst from the outside world . each time was a rush met with hurried lips and wandering hands that made ilya realize that every meet up was worth the risk . nothing else on this planet , not alcohol or cocaine or sexy foreign women , could make him feel like that boring canadian did when they were pressed together in the confines of a hotel room . it made him sick to his stomach as much as it made his heart race . if shane knew that anyone even had an inkling about what was happening between them , the fragility of whatever they had going on would break into a million pieces . they both had been looking for reasons to call the whole thing off and yet neither one of them actually did and ilya is deadly afraid that this would give shane reason enough . the truth was , ilya was scared , but the jury was still out on whether it was from julian having caught on or from the potential at losing the situation he had with shane .
ilya appreciates his friend’s attempt at band - aiding the wound he just opened , his interest now piqued at the thought of spending time with julian and his mother . it was an olive branch , but at the same time ilya was just excited to have a home cooked meal with someone who obviously , as much as julian would probably deny it , cared about him and how he potentially just hurt him . it wasn’t his fault that he was smart enough to figure it out during one of ilya’s moments of weakness . it was a wonder none of his teammates had when they walked up on him, staring at ads in the airport or scrolling articles about shane on his phone . he was lucky their brains had been jostled around enough by other plays that the dots didn’t connect as easily as they did for jules . finally looking up at jules , recovered from his anger and embarrassment all at once , ilya folds his arms across his chest , lips in a thin line . ──── ❛ i do not want to intrude . is an important day . your mother would be okay with this ? ❜
julian rolls his eyes. his mom loves meeting new people, especially when her son has already mentioned said people multiple times during casual conversation. julian's friendships never last, his genuine friends few and far between. whenever he finds someone she deems worthy enough of keeping around, she makes this opinion known in no time flat and makes sure to bother julian about staying in touch with them. call it her way of having extra eyes on julian whenever she can't be there to watch him like a hawk. ❝ you wouldn't be intruding. it's not like we sit around sobbing together on some midsommar shit. just be prepared to have her pack you some extra food to take with you. ❞
moving away from their previous topic seems like the right thing to do in this instance, julian still feeling guilty as sin for leaving ilya rattled. if he was carrying around a life-changing secret, he would also live his days in fear. the thought of ilya going through it and having to be this cautious doesn't sit right with julian, but he also knows he can do little else other than provide a safe space for his friend and not mention it again until ilya is ready to. ❝ she's got daja with her this week. you can meet her too, ❞ and julian knows he's got ilya's attention with this if all else fails, the subject of his border collie coming up more than once in the past. ilya loves dogs, and he loves food. how can he refuse such a perfect peace offering?
❛ Mate, it’s my fucking wedding ring, what do you mean how important can it be ?! ❜ Her tongue is much like a bullet that her teeth neglected to bite, barking the words out in all her endless ferocity. Her movements are as frenetic as a ring haphazardly clattering down a drain, helplessly attempting to shove her hand down the drain, yet to no avail.
❛ Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s gonna fucking kill me — ! ❜
Alice sighs in a wilting moment of utter defeat, fist pounding against the porcelain plated rim of the sink. Turning to lean against the tiled wall, the blonde slides further and further down until her ass hits the floor. This was the last thing she needed today. Well and truly, the very last fucking thing.
❛ How much do you think this hotel would fine me if I took a fucking power saw to the pipes underneath to crack it open? ❜
wedding ring. right. some people still get married. julian takes a few steps back, part of him wishing he would've just minded his damn business, but it's too late. he's invested now. ❝ he won't kill you, 'cause he's not gonna find out. we'll get it back. ❞
his eyes narrow as he tries to think of a plan on the fly, holding a hand out to alice to help her up off the floor. his other hand digs into his pocket for his phone. ❝ there has to be a tutorial on youtube or some shit on how to get this thing open. so we find one, look up a hardware store, and go get the shit we need. i mean... either that, or i ask a random dilf at the hardware store to come get the ring out for us. everyone wins. ❞
there's somewhat of a sympathetic look in julian's eyes after he rattles off his impulsive thoughts, one he can't easily mask. he wonders then, as he stands there in the midst of his own chaotic energy, if he'll ever love someone to the point of panic like this.
a blush creeps onto phainon's cheeks and deepens a little in color with each gentle kiss pressed to his skin. he doesn't have to admit to being touch starved when it's written all over his face, so clearly pleased with the current situation he's found himself in that he has to keep a grin at bay.
❝ of course you're encouraging it, ❞ phainon grumbles with a little laugh. it is rather greedy of him to try and keep julian in bed for longer than he should, but he's too distracted to care. ❝ if i get any greedier, you won't be able to leave this bed at all today. ❞ he drives his point home by playfully pinching julian's side.
❝ you say that as if it's a bad thing, ❞ julian says with a sigh, momentarily squishing phainon's face between both hands. he laughs softly at the resulting appearance, only letting go when his side is pinched. scooting down just enough to rest his head on phainon's chest, julian relaxes and closes his eyes. even with the good week they've had, like most things, it won't last forever. next month's busy schedule looms over their newfound dynamic, standing in the periphery of their shared time like a killer from some slasher film.
❝ we won't get to do this when tour starts again. not unless you wanna risk sneaking into my room on hotel nights. ❞ julian sighs again. maybe that's his punishment for being an asshole—having to sleep alone in a cold hotel bed while phainon is next door, an adjoining door keeping them separate.
The nausea had settled in his stomach, but he blames the bad fish from lunch more than he blames the booze. He’s still standing after all, isn’t he? Hands wound tight into fists, shoved into the depths of his jacket pockets, curled around a half-crushed pack of Marlboros Lights that were itching to be cracked open. Pandora’s box of tobacco, limitless temptation and all. That look Julian was giving him was worse, though. He saw it at least twenty times a day, and somehow, it never got any easier. Nonetheless, laughter peels out from between his lips, stifled only by the joint being thrust in his face.
It was … calculated, more or less. The way he shuffles forward, bending at the waist to take the end of the joint between his lips as though it were something erotic, letting the other hold it in place for him. Steady eye contact and smoke fills the space between them as he exhales it into Julian’s face. The encounter was punctuated with a deep, quiet cough that ruffled his lungs.
❛ No, no, no, what’s gonna happen to you at thirty six is going to be much worse. ❜ Cillian sniffles, teasing the words out with a bit of a drunken slur as he nudges the other with his elbow. ❛ I’ll make sure you have a great last day before we put you down, don’t worry. ❜
unaffected by the smoke, julian smacks cillian in the ribs nonetheless. they've been dancing around the obvious for what feels like a lifetime now, julian having felt the pull of attraction upon first sight. he's been strangely patient about the whole thing, not yet losing interest despite his attention span not being the best. the truth is, if cillian were anyone else, julian would have moved onto someone new by now.
❝ don't make promises you can't keep, ❞ he teases back, unable to keep himself from smiling. nothing but pure mischief in his eyes, he looks at cillian through soft haze of smoke and the alcohol in his own system. there's never been a shortage of confidence where julian is concerned, no need to exert more social energy than necessary. this game of chicken, however, is something he deems worth his time to pursue.
❝ i'm leaving town tomorrow night, ❞ he says, reaching out to mess with one of the zippers on cillian's jacket. julian's demeanor becomes as bold as the makeup look he'd gone with tonight: smoky red shadow and smudged black liner. full lips pout just a touch, gaze following as the zipper tab is pulled up and back down, gesture slowly repeating as if an act of self-soothing. ❝ london. for a whole week, ❞ julian pauses, wanting to initiate eye contact before saying anything else, ❝ you gonna miss me? ❞
the grin on her face is beaming as they successfully make their escape. she takes a deep breath of the outside air with relief and feeling extra thankful that she has someone to run away with during the extremely boring afternoons like these. julian makes her feel a little more at ease and it helps that the ghosts have been so sparse these days. definitely a mood booster. the one in the cafeteria last month was no fun for her and her jello. no one wants to see a rotting face while she's trying to enjoy the raspberry flavoured treat on her plate.
"fuck yeah." she says, while looking back to make sure no one has actually spotted them.
robin puffs her cheeks out and shrugs. "peachy. there's nothing really going on right now. my dad's been working a lot more lately so i've mostly been alone with hubert."
❝ wait. you mean you've had an empty house and haven't thrown a party yet? if i could get my mom to leave for even a full day i'd be organizing something legendary. real project x type shit. this is so wasting an opportunity you won't get back once we graduate. ❞
he unlocks the car doors, peering over his shoulder again to make sure no one's bearing witness to their great escape in the odds there may be a snitch in their midst. julian kind of can't blame them. there's little else to do in a small town like hawkins.
though he is oblivious to the literal ghosts that plague robin on a day to day basis, he has noticed a shift in her demeanor here and there. broaching the subject has just been a little difficult to attempt, considering he doesn't want to sound too much like he's prying into her personal business. speaking up again only after hawkins high is a blur in the rearview mirror, julian drives in the direction of the diner— ❝ how long do you think it'll take before someone notices we're gone? ❞
he knows something had happened, something was seen or said, before julian joined him in the backseat. but prodding him had never worked in his favour in the past, it would even less so now. not unless he fancied having his head chewed off. he scrubs his fingers over his mouth as if to sew his lips shut. julian's response is nothing surprising, but he feels the weight of his words; as heavy as the inevitable tension that followed them around whenever they were together. he had never not cared, even when he left. and leaving hadn't been a quick and easy decision, either. it had been painful, and with a heavy guilt he continued to wear. it wasn't something he could or would ever air to the man beside him. so, what was the point in arguing?
dae-hyun ignores him, staring out the window, at the blur of colourful city lights that pass them by. the name of a bar touches his ears and he gives a sideways glance to julian, directing the driver. his opinion goes unsought, unsurprisingly, and truthfully, the thought of drowning his woes in liquor sounded better than aimlessly meandering about in a cold and empty hotel suite. he anticipates a crowded venue given the late hour, which did not feel him with ease. if they were less conspicuous, they might be able to get away with entering through the front. the driver can apparently read minds and needs no further prompting, escorting them around to a private valet entrance.
“ don't wait, ” dae-hyun mutters to the driver, as he gets out of the car and makes his way in without further fuss. the bar strikes him with a sense of familiarity. “ we've been here before, ” he states, although it sounds more like a question. there's a pause as he ascends the small flight of stars, the unique arch of the entryway plucking at a memory cord. nevertheless, he wanders in, eager to make his way to the bar.
don't wait catches julian off guard, but he says nothing about it. perhaps dae-hyun needs a night off just as much as he does, the past week mostly spent holed up in the studio as their song was fine-tuned and finally mixed. they are both perfectionists when it comes to their craft, after all. there's a reason julian never speaks ill of his ex-boyfriend's work whenever asked about it, choosing instead to poke fun at lesser things that don't matter in the grand scheme of things.
❝ we came here for my birthday once. remember? the year you had that red buzzcut. ❞ julian recalls it vividly, the sounds of his friends and colleagues singing happy birthday to him through the haze of smoke and shitty bar lighting. he'd been mostly sober that year, writing a new album and accepting a few modeling jobs at the behest of his mother. dae-hyun had flown in for the occasion, the two of them having been in a short period of having to do long distance. julian doesn't think he's ever been as happy to see dae-hyun as he had been that day, having looked up and smiled at him before blowing out the candles on his extravagant cake.
avoiding the very seat that still lives in his memories, julian chooses one furthest from it. he waves the bartender over, expression once again stoic when he turns to dae-hyun after ordering. ❝ my mom's been asking about you. please fucking humor her before she accuses me of not letting you know. she's already on my ass as it is. there's a dinner next week for ysl. she's gonna put in a good word for you for their next campaign. ❞
[ REJECTED ] : sender leans in to kiss receiver, but receiver pulls away. ( for alfendi bc i woke up evil this morning )
@tenshiei
PERHAPS IF JULIAN HAD TIMED IT BETTER, he might've been kissed in return. But the Alfendi sat beside him was not the one who teased and laughed, who accompanied him to coffee shops and bullied him for his tastes. No, it was a man who feared the touch of another more than he feared a bullet.
Placid jerked his head back instinctively, his eyes wide as they glanced between Julian's eyes and lips, not certain which unsettled him more.
"What are you doing?" he asked, an edge to his tone. "We're not-- this is rather improper, don't you think?"
the abrupt reaction startles julian just as much, nearly making him drop his cigarette. their gazes meet, eyes wild and confused on both parts. maybe he's been reading the signs wrong these past few weeks, though julian doesn't think he's ever misread them when it comes to anything of this nature. his limbs feel heavier, a pain beginning to settle into his chest. for all of his overt flirtation and teasing, he never actually wants to make anyone uncomfortable with being around him. not when he's been harassed and taken advantage of himself many a time.
julian stands up, disappointed in himself rather than the situation. he doesn't know how he's supposed to look at alfendi now, not remember this moment—this severe miscalculation—and not feel some degree of shame. ❝ nothing, ❞ he says quietly before walking into the kitchen to fix himself a drink, ❝ you're right. i'm sorry. ❞
the words have julian smiling against @elysiaemelody's skin, lips pressed to the space just below his left eye. the musician has figured out how easily phainon melts at gentle touches, face cradled in julian's hands with care just like the night of their first kiss.
❝ i like when you're greedy with me, ❞ he admits quietly between kisses to the rest of phainon's face. julian had begun at his lips, eventually trailing off to each cheek and forehead before both closed eyelids. the more phainon had relaxed under him, the more incentivized julian had been to keep going. ❝ in fact, i think you should be greedier. ❞
He was waiting, waiting for the utter catastrophe of his own personality to seem beautiful again. Waiting for the memory of why they had started fighting in the first place to rupture and break through, to remind him of what had gone wrong. The heeled boot flies past his head with a near startling accuracy, sharp as a whip yet only half as sweet. The thud is enough to wake his tinnitus out of its dormant state, ringing, ringing, ringing … and suddenly, why it started doesn’t matter anymore. What matters was the turn it had taken.
❛ What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! ❜ Cillian hardly raises his voice, ever. He was quiet by nature, soft spoken if nothing else. The exception was the stage … and the here, the now. Now, he was biting back ── energy fluctuating like the turning tides amidst a storm, rising to match Julian’s anger.
❛ ── You really wanna start this? Because we can either keep fucking going until we break everything in the stupid goddamn hotel room, or you can try explaining like a normal fucking person what the hell is going on with you. ❜
It was a choice, and one that only Julian could make. He couldn’t make it for him. Cillian knew better than to try that. Yet still, he found himself standing there, nails digging into the flesh of his palm, and the ringing again … the ringing. ❛ Your fucking call, so what’s it gonna be, huh? Gonna throw another shoe or act like a fucking adult for once in your life? ❜
❝ right now you're what's wrong with me. ❞ this lie is easier to fall into, to build upon. maybe julian is better off cutting and running. so he begins the process, picking up his other boot and stomping over to retrieve the one he'd flung at cillian's head. he feeds off the anger in the shouts directed at him, preferring them to anything soft. he can't do soft right now.
taking a seat at the edge of the bed, julian shoves his feet into the boots and starts lacing them up in silence. he doesn't know where he's going yet. he could call for a car, or wander around until he finds a bar that's still open. the latter sounds more appealing, so he goes with that plan as he tries his best to tune out cillian's words. standing upright again, he's grateful to be at eye level in this volatile moment.
❝ i don't owe you a fucking explanation for anything. you want me to act like an adult? fine. i'm leaving. problem solved. no more fighting. have fun jerking off to my instagram pictures, 'cause that's the only way you'll ever see me now. ❞
he shoves past cillian, wishing with every fiber of his being that the door he pulls open wasn't one of those stupid doors that's designed to close slowly. slamming it shut would be ideal for his exit, but he works with what he has, giving it a solid kick once it closes behind him and latches into place. fuck cillian. julian doesn't need him. he doesn't need anyone.
his mind has been elsewhere. retreating into himself, it gets more and more difficult to climb his way out. julian hears @eatsraw say something, the moment passing him by the first time around. her voice sounds garbled to him, like she's underwater. by the time he lets an inquisitive "hm?" slip out, the delay of his reaction feels awkward and disconcerting. mina repeats herself, and julian blinks, strange reverie broken.
❝ oh. you did? ❞ the words make him smile, confession unexpected. julian had also missed mina, though he was always more cautious to admit such things. so many times over the past week he had composed a message to her, only to never send it. the clingy parts of him long to stretch out like vines and engulf her. he must be careful ... he tests the waters anyway. ❝ i missed you too. should i call next time? ❞
temper flaring, it only takes a split second for julian to pick up one of his boots and launch it as hard as he can in @fukstar's direction. the heavier part of the heel makes contact with the wall of the hotel room they're in, inches away from cillian's head. it leaves a sizable dent in the wall, deep enough that it is not something that can be easily explained away upon check-out.
a certain anniversary has reared its ugly head as it does every year, reminding julian of a truth he lives by. everyone will leave. whether they want to or not. he looks over at cillian with the demeanor of someone who is barely hanging on by a thread. ❝ don't fucking talk to me like that. ❞
tell me yet again about when we met and what you thought of me. ( for cillian 🙂↕️ )
YOU SEEM PRETTY SAD FOR A GIRL SO IN LOVE, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING CILLIAN ROSEINGRAVE & JULIAN DEVEREAUX.
He had always heard that honesty was the best policy, but sometimes the white lies plucked out of thin air were just a bit more compelling. Easier to swallow, or spit out. Pour concrete over it, bury it down, down, down … pretend the emotions didn’t exist, hide it behind the thickened veneer of whatever costumed persona he was wearing that day. Leave the matters of the heart at the bottom of a bottle ── rinse and repeat, day in and day out.
Cillian recalls the day they met about as much as he recognizes his own face in the mirror. It becomes clearer the harder he focuses, yet all the more disconcerting. He remembers first seeing the infinite mass of black spirals and curls, framing the slope of his jaw and the fullness of his lips. He remembers the gentle curve of his side, flesh peeking out from underneath the hem of a shirt. The way his hip bones jutted out, elastic waistband clinging on for dear life. More than this, he remembers the manner in which he moved in perfect synchronicity with the flow of the work they had thrown themselves into ── how quickly the two had adapted to one another, nearly seamless. The harmonious ensemble of clockwork, grinding out their finest work. It was the mind that always ensnared Cillian first, and Julian was like a goddamn bear trap, teeth and all.
❛ I remember … showing up to the studio that day, meeting you, the band, the engineer. I remember how seriously you took yourself, which ── I mean, I was impressed, you’re great at what you do, but it’s kind of funny in hindsight. I don’t know. I think we just worked really well together, and that’s … the thing that sticks out most about that day. ❜
Never mind the fact that he doesn’t recall a single word that was scrawled, and that he had physically felt time slipping through his fingers as the session came to a close. Never mind the fact that, that night, his mind had fallen into a pathetic loop … always returning to the same burning curiosity fluttering across the backs of his eyelids in technicolor.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤYeah. Partial truths were easier to admit out loud.
head idly lying on cillian's lap as they take an impromptu rest upon the concrete, julian's face is turned upwards to the darkening sky as he smokes a pilfered cigarette. his sunglasses are still on, giving him a tinted and rather murky view of cillian's expression after he makes his request. he can't help the way a genuine smirk tugs at his lips when cillian actually listens, julian having expected to hear an emotionless fuck off or something of that ilk.
an ego boost as a quick pick-me-up after a long, mentally taxing day is not something julian is a stranger to. cillian's words are no exception ... however, as each point correlates to professionalism and skill rather than physical appearance, the blood that rushes in julian's veins runs hot. he says nothing at first, biting down on the inside of his bottom lip to keep quiet. accepting praise too enthusiastically despite it being what he'd asked for feels like exposing his belly and begging to be executed, no matter who is witness to it. call it a coping mechanism, forged after years of being taken advantage of. how he wishes he could go back in time to protect his teenage self from the depravity of the industry.
julian takes his sunglasses off and perches them atop messy curls now that the sun has carried out its final bow and dipped below the horizon line. he reaches up, giving cillian a firm tap-tap to the cheek. ❝ hmm. i'm a little disappointed. i mean, it's a start. but you didn't mention how good i looked even once, and i caught you staring at least three times that day... so i know you noticed. ❞ julian's voice is pure velvet when he speaks again, fingertip gently tracing down the slope of cillian's nose, eyes watching carefully even from his inconvenient position— ❝ lying by omission is still a sin, you know. ❞
❝ i can dance sober, smartass. but having a buzz makes it a little less humiliating. ❞ making combat look effortlessly smooth is one thing phainon excels at, but unfortunately that skill never extended to much else. he knows that dancing in a club should be more about letting loose and having fun and less about being good at it, but he'll do what he can to minimize his embarrassment however he can anyways.
phainon rests his free hand on the bar top and lets his fingers drum along to nothing in particular, mostly out of a restlessness he's never quite been able to shake. the fidgeting pauses once julian's head tilts over to press against his shoulder, a fondness warming phainon's gaze that he can't quite keep at bay and a smile subconsciously creeping onto the corners of his lips. he considers teasing julian about being clingy tonight— something lighthearted to cover up how their growing closeness seems to make phainon's heart to beat just a little faster. instead, he opts for letting his thumb brush subtly against julian's hand that he still clutches onto. the watchful gazes nearby only remind him they should exercise caution. if anyone happened to snap a picture and it gained any traction, phainon would no doubt be guaranteed another lecture or worse.
the bartender slides them their drinks and phainon grabs his with his free hand, pausing to tip it slightly towards julian to offer up a quick cheers. for all of his usual adamance about sticking to the rules of his profession, there's a hint of mirth in bright blues reserved for the little bubble they've found themselves in together. ❝ to a fun night out. i know you don't get them as much lately, so let's make it a good one. ❞
the thumb that rubs against his hand is soothing, julian mirroring the gesture. it's not like this is the first time he's held phainon's hand ... sometimes, in the chaos of being in public and getting from point a to point b, they are forced to clasp hands so that julian can keep up with phainon's longer strides. other times, it's for his safety as they move up a flight of stairs or through tricky flooring situations if julian is wearing any form of heeled boot or platform. tonight is different, however. he'd taken phainon's hand initially out of need for an anchor; something to tether them to one another as they'd moved through the mess of strangers.
only when their drinks arrive and they toast, does julian let go of the bodyguard's hand. he regrets it immediately, even if he had begun to feel ridiculous in the seconds that had led up to their departure. the look in phainon's eyes is brand new and mesmerizing to someone like julian, who always tries to get people out of their comfort zone. as he downs half his drink in one go, julian wonders what the turning point was for phainon tonight. what had convinced him he needs to relax sometimes too.
❝ do you really think dancing is humiliating? ❞ julian asks after he steps directly into phainon's space, using the excuse of the club's music being loud. he sips on the rest of his drink as he waits for an answer, eyes narrowing playfully. they're practically pressed against one another now, julian holding his glass out of the way as he looks up at phainon expectantly, though some of the mischief from the bus makes its way back. ❝ because i really don't think you should be embarrassed about anything when you look this good. ❞