francisco javier es una (pesadilla) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-07-30 04:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | robb stark, theon greyjoy |
Who: Aubrey Rois & Lin Alesi
What: awkward encounter
Where: Aubrey's loft's hallway
When: Backdated: Shortly after this
Warnings/Rating: Earmuffs!
The screen on Lin's iPhone went black, the background of the lockscreen (an artful photo of a portion of the Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics from the Rosetta Stone) disappearing from view. He frowned at the little machine. He'd spent the last twenty minutes compulsively checking for a response from Aubrey, worried that he might have somehow missed the phone's vibrations as he laid on the bed with his head under the pillow. (It was comfortable.) - But, no, he hadn't missed a thing, as nothing had been sent after Lin's last message: 'That's not what I meant.' All things considered, Aubrey mused to himself as he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, he didn’t look as bad as he’d expected. He frowned a bit, turning up the vanity lights and leaning in closer to the reflective surface so as to better examine the damage to his face. The swelling in his nose had gone down and it didn’t even look crooked, so he considered himself rather lucky as far as broken noses went. The twin shiners weren’t exactly the most flattering accessory in the world, but Aubrey was no stranger to black eyes. They had faded to a sickly purple-green colour by now, and the puffiness that had kept his right eye from opening all the way was completely gone. Paper tabs littered the bathroom countertop, since he had spent the last fifteen minutes changing the butterfly bandages that held the cuts together in place of stitches. Dante had done a remarkably impressive job patching him up, and the lacerations on his forehead and jaw had scabbed over and begun to heal with no signs of infection. His ribs, however, were another matter entirely. On the night of the attack, he’d guessed (and hoped) that they were merely bruised, but once the cloud of tequila had cleared and he’d found himself with a deadly hangover, he’d had to admit that two or three of his ribs on his left side were most likely cracked. Spending an hour retching over the toilet and crying out in pain every time his ribcage expanded with the force of his heaves made it rather difficult to be in any further denial of his injuries. The worst part about injured ribs was that there was nothing to be done for them. Aubrey gingerly lifted his shirt, glad to see that it was becoming easier to bear the pain with each passing day, and eyed the bruises on his torso. Was he imagining things, or could he see the black and blue outlines of steel-toed boot prints painted on his flesh? Aubrey dropped his shirt back down into place and cleaned up the bathroom as best he could while wobbling around with a fifth of expensive whiskey in his gut. He hadn’t bothered checking his phone for the better part of an hour, since he only cared about hearing from Dante and so far he hadn’t heard the personalized alert that chirped whenever the older man texted him. He could only assume that the multiple texts he’d received were from Lin, and Aubrey had approximately zero interest in answering them and making a further fool out of himself. That was why, when he heard the knock at the main door of his loft, he was confused. It wasn’t inconceivable that Dante would show up without bothering to answer his texts, but it was strange. Aubrey’s brow furrowed a bit and he padded across the cement floor (his building was an old warehouse that had been converted into industrial-style lofts, with lots of exposed brick and concrete) in bare feet, Greyson trotting along at his heels. “Wait,” he instructed the large Husky puppy with a gesture of his hand, watching to make sure that the dog sat patiently away from the door while Aubrey flipped the heavy latch and pulled it open. He stared for a long, silent moment at the person on the other side, blinking a couple of times as if the whiskey was somehow clouding his vision. Lin? Suddenly, before the man could say anything, Aubrey grabbed hold of the door again and slammed it shut. “What the fuck?” He whispered incredulously at Greyson, who merely cocked his head and adopted the canine version of a bewildered expression. There was no way that Lin was standing outside his door. Aubrey was drunk, but not that drunk. Was he? He had to be sure. Turning back around on his heel, Aubrey yanked the door open again and leaned against the door frame, staring at Lin and not saying anything for a long time. When he finally spoke, he had to clear his throat a couple of times until the words came out clean. “What are you doing here?” It was a long time before Lin heard any sounds of life on the other side of the door. The crease in his brow grew larger with each passing second. Though he was aware Aubrey could be at a bar or a friend's or any other manner of place, really, - he had expected the other man to be home. But expectations do not dictate reality, as Lin well knew, and, after a few minutes of waiting, he was ready to accept the fact that Aubrey may well be away. Then, the door opened. Lin looked up from his feet and opened his mouth to speak. The door banged shut in his face. So... Aubrey was home at least. Lin frowned. He didn't know if he should knock again, so he just stood there stupidly for a moment or two, and before he'd come to a decision, the heavy door swung open for a second time. Aubrey, his face resembling a train wreck, leaned so very casually on the door jamb and peered out at him. It had been so long since he’d even seen his ex-boyfriend’s face that the ...injuries weren’t quite as shocking as they might have been, though they were astonishing all the same. He was still the same tall, dashing man he had been when Lin left - with more defined muscles underneath his thin shirt. (Someone had been working out.) Lin blinked. What made the most impact, however, were the unsolicited feelings just seeing Aubrey resurrected. All of the words the boy had wanted to say over the past year clambered to make themselves known on his tongue, but with effort, he managed to bite them back. His stomach tied into a knot and he gave a queasy sort of smile. The younger man took in the frightening sight while Aubrey cleared his throat. ...It really did look like someone had come at the other man with a baseball bat. With nails driven into it. Lin counted two black eyes that looked like they were on the mend, several cuts along the jaw and cheeks, and a nose that looked broken. It was very likely that the horror he felt showed on his face. There were several seconds of silence as he stared. He didn't even want to know what had happened. He had his suspicions. Though he'd been out of Aubrey's life for a year, he was certain there were aspects that had remained the same - like, his ex-boyfriend's attempts at taking down the mob and/or seedier Vegas organizations single-handedly. Dumbass. "...Bad day?" He asked facetiously, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. Anger darkened Aubrey’s face like a thundercloud, and he considered himself very lucky that he wasn’t the sort of person to go around punching his exes. Still, he couldn’t help but tighten his hand into a momentary fist where it pressed against the doorframe, to stop his fingers from trembling. Not only was it an unpleasant surprise to find someone else when he had been expecting Dante, but to find this particular young man standing in the hallway outside his loft was a spectacularly unexpected event. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about Lin for what felt a very long time before he had seen his name appear on the journals. Aubrey had become quite adept at forgetting about Lin and their four years that had gone down the toilet with the utterance of a few simple words. “I asked why you’re here,” he said carefully, voice low, managing not to make any sort of face that might aggravate his broken nose while still approximating a glare in Lin’s direction. “I don’t remember asking you to show up at my loft uninvited.” Aubrey gingerly shifted his weight so that he could lean in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He heard Greyson sniffing at the air behind him and growling softly when he scented an unfamiliar body. Aubrey glanced over his shoulder and made another hand gesture, this time urging the dog to stay where he was. Territorial and very protective of Aubrey, the Husky shifted on his feet and whined softly before he fell silent again. He wasn’t happy to see their visitor, either. Pleasant. Lin’s already weak smile dissolved into a frown in a matter of seconds. Oh, yes. Wasn’t this nice? He had forgotten how aggressive the other man could be (and how angry he, apparently, still was) - and with the set of shiners and the busted nose, he cut quite an intimidating figure, even as he continued to lean against the door frame, glaring like some angry five year old. The clenched fist hadn’t gone unnoticed either. “Well,” Lin began slowly, knowing full well that the probability of the door crashing closed in his face again was only growing the more he spoke. He kept his voice even and looked at the floor a second, before turning his eyes back to Aubrey. “You actually asked me what I was doing here, not why. And you can’t really ask someone to show up uninvited. That makes no sense. That would make them invited.” Quickly, he held up an anticipatory hand to stop the other man from doing anything stupid or rude before he could finish speaking. His words were meant jokingly, but they wouldn’t be taken that way. Lin shifted on his feet, then continued, serious this time: “That said, you kinda had me worried over here. You send me these weird, cryptic, obviously drunk scribblings, then disappear.” He paused and his hand went up again. “I know I’m not allowed to be concerned or worried about you. I know.” It was only with great effort that Lin managed to stop himself from adding a ‘blah, blah, blah’ onto that sentence. He was quite proud. “I’m sorry.” A long time ago, Aubrey had learned that if he gave in to the urge to roll his eyes at Lin whenever he said something worthy of an eye roll, that his eyes would probably roll right out of his head and wind up under a dresser or a fridge somewhere. It just wasn’t practical. So it was with a great amount of effort that he actually managed to suppress that particular urge in this moment, and he simply responded to Lin’s overly-analytical smart-ass remarks with a glowering look and a grim set to his mouth. Lin was right, of course, to expect a rude response. Something sarcastic had been brewing in Aubrey’s chest when the younger man held up an anticipatory hand to stop him, and he was actually left with his mouth open with words forming on his tongue when the palm in his face caught him by surprise. He was thrown for a loop by the sudden appearance of a serious expression on Lin’s face, and then there were the actual words he was saying - followed by an apology, no less. But for what? For assuming that he had a right to pry into Aubrey’s life when they no longer had anything to do with each other? For being a smart-ass? (Not likely). For showing up unannounced? The sincerity of the apology was so uncharacteristic of Lin that Aubrey was actually speechless for a moment. He shifted into a slightly less defensive position without really noticing, hands falling to his sides where his fingers found a loose thread at the hem of his shirt and began to tug at it idly. “Worried, huh?” Aubrey quirked an eyebrow at that, silently agreeing with the suggestion that Lin no longer had a right to pry into his personal life while at the same time realizing he’d forfeited his own privacy when he had committed the journal equivalent of drunk-texting his ex. “Well, I’m fine. Isn’t it obvious, from the state of my face?” The mild surprise Lin felt at not seeing the door fly shut in his face was easily masked. Instead, he had given his miniature speech equivalent and Aubrey had listened, like, actually listened. It was as if they were in some bizarre, alternate universe, where Aubrey wasn't constantly a dick and Lin wasn't always sarcastic. The thought of such a place - of existing in such a place - made Lin uncomfortable. Alternate universes inevitably invited the question of, yes, but, how alternate? Like, when that kid would yell, 'it's opposite day!' in your third grade classroom and then it would all fall apart in five seconds as everyone debated whether or not the true opposite of 'mom said I could' was 'dad said I couldn't' or 'dad remained silent about what you couldn't do' or something like that. Whatever. Lin shook his head, trying to tune his attention to the disaster of a man across from him. "Yes, worried. I mean -" The boy paused to appraise the state of Aubrey's face. "...Did you get hit by a car?" “Yes, it was a car made up of fists and feet. Quite a doozy,” he snorted softly, though his response was less about sarcasm and more about deflecting some of the concern that was evident on Lin’s face and in his voice. Aubrey wanted to reassure him, but at the same time he didn’t exactly feel like spilling any secrets about getting attacked. He had tried to keep from endangering Lin by involving him when they were living together, and he wasn’t eager to do it now. “Honestly, I’m fine. It looks a lot worse than it is. Mostly now I’m just waiting for bruises to fade. Okay?” His ‘okay’ was curt without being overly rude - a surprise, really - and made it clear that he had no intentions of discussing it further. Of course, very rarely did Lin obey anyone else’s expectations about how far a conversation should go, and there was little reason for Aubrey to believe that he might have changed in their year apart. The mental image of the car Aubrey described - made of fists and feet - made Lin grimace. Gross. But he said nothing about it. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood, wanting to lean against the wall behind him, but too nervous to. He shifted restlessly on his feet, eyebrows raising steadily with each word that came out of his ex-boyfriend’s mouth. Okay? He would have laughed, but he was glad for the distinct lack of aggression he was receiving, so he decided against it. He smothered the smile that grew on his lips and nodded very solemnly. “Okay,” he repeated slowly, eyes moving carefully to meet Aubrey’s. He scratched the back of his neck idly. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you look like hell.” It was true. Whatever car or baseball bat had gotten the other man had had it in for him, that was for certain. Lin cleared his throat. “Are you drunk right now?” He had been wondering all along, but seeing as it wasn’t the best way to greet an ex who wanted to see you dead, he had withheld. And of course, there it was. That insufferably brutal honesty that always managed to be both irritating and endearing at the same time - a combination of qualities that Lin had clearly mastered a long time ago. It made absolutely no sense given the circumstances, given their current lack of relationship, and their apparent inability to function as friends or even acquaintances outside of a failed romance, but as soon as Lin informed him that he looked like hell, Aubrey laughed. It hurt, what with the painful process of his ribs knitting back together, but still he tipped his head back and he laughed an honest laugh. It felt good, and it felt awful all at the same time. “That’s great,” he finally managed, rubbing at his stubbled cheek with one hand, surprised by himself. “Thank you for that. I was feeling like shit, so I appreciate knowing that my outward appearance lives up to it. Perks me right up.” Aubrey shook his head, and at the sound of amusement and relief in his voice, Greyson came padding over to his side and nudged at Aubrey’s hand with a wet nose. He ruffled the fur atop the dog’s head with one hand and surprised himself just a little bit more with an honest answer to Lin’s next question. “I’m about halfway there. Maybe two-thirds. Does that really matter to you, though? We’ve both changed, Lin. You aren’t the same person that you were when I left, and neither am I.” It had been a long time since Lin had heard Aubrey laugh outright - like, honestly laugh - and the sound of it made him want to grin like a complete and utter idiot. He didn’t. Instead, he gave a small smirk, but replaced it quickly with a look of wry amusement. In the brief moment of levity that passed between them, the entirety of Aubrey’s face had so transformed that he almost looked like another person afterward. Even his eyes were brighter when he moved his hand up to brush his cheek. It was hard for Lin not to be overly pleased with himself then, but he did try. It was just nice to know that Aubrey hadn’t wholly lost his sense of humor (always a possibility) and that maybe he didn’t hate Lin quite so much as he had a year ago. (Though the boy was not so naive as to think that Aubrey didn’t hate him at all.) “You’re welcome,” replied Lin pleasantly, flashing his best fake smile. He almost said more - he was ready to, but was distracted by the sight of a gangly-looking, husky-featured pup. It was pretty fucking adorable. Aubrey didn’t pay too much notice to the dog, giving him or her a familiar pat on the head, so Lin decided to do the same for the time being. “How do you know?” The boy arched an indignant brow at the ‘we’ve both changed’ statement. He then lifted his shoulders in a careful display of nonchalance. “You haven’t spoken to me, remember? Anyway, it does matter. It’s always important to know your conversational partner’s level of sobriety - that way you know how much you can divulge without fear of them either vomiting on your new pants or echoing your words to the entire room in a drunken shout.” He rocked on his feet, as jittery as before. He gestured toward the dog with his head. “Are you going to introduce us?” “Bullshit,” he scoffed, although even that was a little bit more good-natured than the open hostility that he’d radiated when he’d first opened to door to reveal his ex. “There is no way that those -” he jabbed an index finger in the direction of Lin’s pants, “Are new. I remember you wearing those the first time you came over. Look, there’s even the stain where you spilled spaghetti sauce all over yourself. I bought you new pants, and you still won’t throw those out.” Aubrey’s smile was a wry one, but it was genuine. Maybe it was the whiskey and maybe it was the fact that being a dick to Lin was very exhausting and he was tired and hungry and didn’t feel like arguing for six hours with someone whose maturity level was equivalent to that of a brick wall. Whatever the cause, some of the tension was slipping out of his shoulders, especially with Greyson at his side. “Oh,” he glanced down at the dog who was currently bathing his wrist with a long, floppy tongue and a goofy canine grin on his face. “Right. This is Greyson. I got him a couple of months ago, when...” When Robb would not shut up about his fucking direwolf. “I just felt like getting a dog. Someone else to keep me company. He’s friendly, you can say hi if you want.” Okay, this was weird. It was weird to start with, standing in the doorway and talking somewhat normally to his ex-boyfriend when he’d fantasized about everything he would scream and shout and throw at Lin if he ever had the nerve to show up. It was also weird to be doing it when he was expecting Dante to appear at any moment. And it was especially weird to be introducing him to Greyson, who was part of Aubrey’s new life with a guy in his head and a weird double-life behind the door in Passages. Lin exhaled with exaggerated irritation. He waved a hand at Aubrey. “I was using the ‘impersonal pants,’ obviously,” he said with his own scoff, as if he was saying something that made a shred sense, brushing the front of his brown pants as he spoke. So maybe they did have a stain. And maybe it was from spaghetti. That didn’t seem a good enough reason to throw out an otherwise perfectly fine pair of pants, even if one’s significant other had bought one a (stainless) replacement pair. Plus, Lin was much more sentimental than he let on, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to get rid of the trousers just yet. Maybe if the ass got a huge hole in it. “And I don’t care about the stain. It adds ...character.” If the situation was uncomfortable or strange, Lin didn’t feel it - at least not so acutely. Perhaps the feeling was there at the back of his mind, but he ignored it well enough. He still eyed Aubrey to make sure he wasn’t about to keel over from alcohol consumption, but he was finding it deceptively simple to fall into the old patterns of talking to one another. This offered something of a distraction. He did it without thinking. This being in sharp contrast to the majority of his recent interactions with others and even himself. He’d become much more preoccupied with the minutiae of social exchanges of late and that made it somewhat difficult to not stutter like a moron, if one managed to even make it that far. But this was different - he couldn’t even express the gratitude and relief he felt. So he didn’t bother trying. (Plus, that would be weird. He could see that.) “Greyson,” he repeated formally as he moved into a squatting position in the middle of the hallway. Carefully, he offered a hand for the dog to smell. He noted the pause in Aubrey’s explanation of why he’d chosen to get a dog, as well as the explanation itself. He flicked his eyes from the man’s face to his dog’s. He squinted at Greyson. “I’d say it was nice to meet you if I thought you could understand me.” Even as it was happening, Aubrey thought that maybe he should have given some sort of warning. Greyson was a very well-meaning puppy, who had a very difficult time grasping simple concepts like ‘down’ and ‘no’ most of the time. He was intelligent, but it was a selective sort of intelligence that he only seemed to use when it was convenient for him - it was, in fact, something that the puppy had in common with Lin himself. (Aubrey thought this, but chose not to share it even if Lin didn’t deserve that level of tact from him.) And so it happened that Aubrey saw the whole thing in slow motion: Lin, crouching down and offering his hand, Greyson taking a sniff and deciding that the young man was trustworthy. Aubrey probably could have warned him then, but didn’t. He even saw the moment when the wheels turned in Greyson’s head and he decided that it was a good idea to leap at Lin and tackle him, knocking him flat onto his back in the hallway and pinning him down in order to give his entire face and neck a thorough washing. After about half a minute of watching this and snickering to himself, Aubrey decided he might as well help out. He ordered the dog “OFF” (and a lot of good that did - it actually seemed to encourage him to start cleaning out Lin’s ears with his tongue) and grabbed hold of his collar, hauling the animal away and back into the apartment where he slunk back to his bed on the floor. Lin seemed to be a bit stunned there on the floor when Aubrey turned back, and it was almost without thinking that Aubrey offered out a hand to help him stand up. He immediately regretted it because, shit, they hadn’t even spoken for a year, never mind actual physical contact. But he forced himself to keep the hand where it was because it wouldn’t kill him to drop the asshole act for a few minutes, especially when it was his fault that Lin was on the ground. Whatever vantage point Aubrey had of the situation and how it might unfold wasn’t afforded to Lin. He was busy smiling at the dog, hand outstretched, up until the second before Greyson decided to make his move, and by then it was too late to do anything about it. The animal landed squarely and heavily on his chest, bowling him over and knocking the air from his lungs. The hallway swung before his eyes for a few seconds, before settling at new angle. His couldn’t breathe, but at least he hadn’t hit his head. After a moment, Lin realized he was looking at the ceiling. He’d never noticed how nice the light fixtures were before. He gave a thoroughly dazed smile and had just started to prop himself up on his elbows. He blinked the light from his eyes just in time to see Greyson moving in for the kill. Or kiss. Back down he went, this time with the dog’s pink tongue obscuring the newly discovered sconces. Lin made sounds of annoyance and squirmed beneath the pup’s paws as warm dog spit was spread over his face - quite lovingly. He tried to bring his arms up to protect himself from the free bath, but somehow Greyson had managed to pin them firmly to the floor. And though the boy wanted to say something, he didn’t really want the tongue that was so close to his lips in his mouth. It was only after the entire thing played out that Lin finally heard Aubrey call out. There was a stern “OFF,” then the dog lifted off of him - presumably by force. (Lin doubted he could fly.) He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and scrunched up his face, before allowing himself to laugh. Because, really? - Again, he was preparing to say something when he was caught off guard - this time by a hand rather than a tongue. Which was unexpected. Because - well, Lin assumed the last thing the other man would want would be to touch him ever again. He’d said as much a year ago. With raised eyebrows, he took Aubrey’s hand and let himself be pulled his his feet. It was the smallest of actions, yes, but it made him suddenly, extremely uncomfortable and suddenly, extremely conscious of the way Aubrey’s hand felt around his, how warm it was, how much larger and stronger. Lin could feel his face flushing. As soon as he was steady on his own pair of sneakers, he pulled his hand away. He didn’t do it too fast, as if he were being burned, but he didn’t linger. He didn’t let their palms touch any longer than they needed to. A weak ‘thanks’ was all he could manage. (If there was ever an indicator of Lin’s mood, it was how much he spoke. Silences were rare and spoke volumes about him, if one knew him well enough.) For anyone else in the world who knew Lin, it probably wouldn’t have been much: the hesitation before taking Aubrey’s outstretched hand, the raised eyebrows that were no doubt questioning the fact that Aubrey had so vehemently declared his hatred for all things Lin not so very long ago. The slow, faint blush that crept up Lin’s neck and coloured his cheeks and how - Aubrey knew this from memory - it would make his skin warm to the touch. And finally, the way that Lin under no circumstances allowed his hand to linger in Aubrey’s after he’d been steadied on his feet. It was not rude or belligerent or arrogant or anything number of things that were so common in Lin’s arsenal, and that was enough in itself to confirm how uncomfortable Aubrey had managed to make him with such a simple gesture. The stupid part, the worst part, was that it hurt. Stung just a little somewhere in Aubrey’s chest, which was so fucking awful because what did he care if Lin didn’t want to be touched by him? He should have been relieved, glad even, and instead there was a strange sort of twinge and it made Aubrey bite down on his bottom lip until his teeth left little indentations. He didn’t like that Lin was being quiet. Quiet did not ever bode well with this man. So Aubrey chose to deal with it by pretending that he’d never noticed anything was wrong, turning to glance over his shoulder under the guise of checking that Greyson was behaving and then finally turning back when Lin had had some time to compose himself. “Sorry about that,” he finally offered lamely, not totally convinced that he was apologizing for the incident in question. The color rising in his cheeks paled in comparison to the heat the filled Lin’s stomach and twisted it sideways. He couldn’t quite tell if the dampness he felt on his face was a sudden sweat or the remnants of dog spittle - nor was he sure if he wanted to know. For a second time, he swiped the back of his hand across his face, taking a subtle step backwards as he did so. It annoyed him to no end the extent to which his emotions controlled his body and how it reacted. It was more than most, he knew that. It didn’t take much to make his stomach sick - fear, anxiety, sadness, possibly even extreme happiness, nor did it take much to bring a blush to his face. And though he had been that way as long as he could remember, sensitive to every emotion that passed through him, he still found being a human mood ring in such a way endlessly frustrating. Never once did he doubt that Aubrey was unaware of his discomfort. Even with his cheeks red, he forced a smile and pushed his hands into his pockets, trying not to look too long at the indents Aubrey’s teeth left in his bottom lip. It hadn’t escaped his notice either - the overly casual backwards glance, the biting of the lip. Aubrey could read him like a book, it was true, but Lin was no illiterate himself. He shook his head lightly, his smile taking on a more genuine feel. “You should have told me your dog doesn’t wait for the second date to make a move.” Lin almost laughed at himself, then realized that he was speaking to the man he’d dated, and who had dumped him. He went quiet again. It was all a sham, really. They were both playing a part, pretending not to feel uncomfortable and pretending not to notice that the other was uncomfortable, standing there awkwardly as if there was absolutely nothing to feel uncomfortable about. It was ridiculous. What should he do? Aubrey could see few options. He certainly wasn’t about to invite Lin inside, for a vast array of reasons, the least of which was the fact that Aubrey’s actual current boyfriend was due to show up at any time. That was not a situation that he cared to experience - it was like the start of a bad porno. “Yeah, well - he’s not as charming as yours truly,” Aubrey said with about as much humour as a dried apricot. Well, he couldn’t agree or disagree with Aubrey’s “joke” without feeling like he was making some manner of faux pas - was it okay or not okay to tell your ex-boyfriend he was more charming than his dog? So, instead, Lin opted for a bland smile, shrugging in a decidedly noncommittal fashion. After he'd bobbed on his feet for another moment in a desperate attempt to dispell the discomfort and tension that gathered so heavily in the air between him and the older man, he cocked his head to the side. Aubrey received a long, appraising look from the boy. It was difficult to discern his state of inebriation, but... well, he was alive, if only barely, by the looks of things. Lin supposed his work here was done, as he knew fully well he wasn’t about to be asked in for a cup of tea, and the hallway was quickly becoming much too small to hold the both of them together. He took in the evident weariness, the black eyes, Aubrey’s disarrayed hair, all without saying anything. Eventually, several moments later, he turned his eyes to his ex-boyfriend’s. Lin scratched the top of his head. A thousand separate thoughts and distinct feelings gathered on his lips, threatening to spill out in some kind of guaranteed messy deluge. He wanted to take the hand back into his own and beg for forgiveness. But, of course, the time for that was long gone. Lin’s heart beat hard in his chest. Finally, he averted his eyes, his lips still curved upward in a smile. “Well, gee, thanks for all the fun and the free bath. It’s been real swell,” he said in the perfect imitation of a wholesome Midwestern lilt, straight out of some black-and-white film from the ‘50s. He gave Aubrey a bracing smile as he took a step backward, bumping into the wall. “As my one worry was whether or not you were still alive, I’ve done what I came to do. You are alive - at least enough to convince me, so I’ll leave you to your alcohol and facial bruising, and - uh - well, I’d say do this again, but I don’t really want to. So, I’ll see you around. Maybe.” And with that, accompanied by a small wave, Lin high-tailed it out of there, never so much as looking back once. |