Who: Blake and Poe What: Blake checks in on the apartment he's paying for Where: Hamartia When: Todayish in the AM Warnings: None
Blake didn’t care enough about his money to feel he needed to check in on every investment he made or every cent he spent, but Poe was something else. He’d worked things out with the head of the company, and arranged to get Poe a sizable scholarship, more than enough to pay for all his training and a good apartment.
The suggestion of Hamartia as an apartment had led Blake to assume that Poe was a Creation - interesting luck, that, and he filed it away for later.The company had also been rather forthcoming with Poe’s address, so in the evening on Monday he dropped by the Hamartia.
Blake was still determined to get Poe in somewhere better. The Hamartia was a mess, and dangerous besides, particularly for someone as open and naive as Poe. He walked up the crumbling cement steps, thinking back over the week. He hadn’t spoken to Eli or Preston since Eli had stumbled into the bar and punched him in the nose, and he had no real interest in doing so right about now. His nose had healed almost completely, but being made someone else’s scapegoat was not an experience he wanted to repeat. He’d probably get back in contact with Eli, at least, and Preston as well, since he was a fucking masochist that way, and needling Eli might actually make him feel better about the whole thing, and not at all because he might actually feel some genuine concern for the stupid pair of them and their inability to talk to each other.
It was a strange feeling standing outside Poe’s door. Blake knocked, only half-expecting him to actually be home. It felt a little stupid, admittedly, and he found himself questioning why he was there. He wanted to be sure the apartment was alright, that the money had actually gone to Poe and that he was comfortable - but why did he even care? He shook the thought. Questioning was going to get him nowhere, and there was no use over thinking it.
Poe was, in fact, home. When the knock came at the door, he kicked aside a pile of books, shoved a pair of ballet shoes under the bed and and turned on the hand-me-down, old fashioned radio in the corner of the room, because playing music when people came over was cool. He was in jeans, a white bandanna on his head to hold his hair out of his face, and he tugged the door open with the certainty and safety of someone who grew up in much safer places than the one he was in just then.
Poe hadn’t been expecting Blake, but he was grateful to see him, and he leaned against the door frame, all long, tall boy, and he gave him a look that was trouble on an angel’s face. “I didn’t think you’d ever come.” Then, in a rush. “Not that I was waiting for you. I just thought you might.” And, finally, looking down with a look that would be considered coquettish on a girl. “Hi.”
Blake smiled. What a weird, brilliantly out of place thing Poe was, pulling the door open for anybody who knocked. He was like something transplanted from a world Blake didn’t know anymore and might never have, and he felt a surge of protectiveness for him. Poe was going to get into trouble sooner rather than later, there was no doubting that. “I came,” he said. “Hi. Can I come in?”
Poe nodded, and he stepped aside. “Sure. You’re paying for me,” he said, and his voice inadvertently sounded like Blake was paying for more things that four walls and a ceiling.
The apartment was one of the smaller ones in Hamartia. One big room with wooden floors and white flaking off the walls, along with a small kitchen and bath, and Poe thought it was the best thing he’d ever seen in his life. It was already a mess, schoolbags strewn everywhere, piles of books littering the floor and a makeshift barre on the windowsill.
Blake looked around the one-room apartment. The place was small, and bare, and he looked over at Poe. "Are you happy with it?" he asked. "We should get you some decent furniture, at least." He didn't mind the chaos, since it looked like the way his own space probably would if there wasn't a maid to clean it on a regular basis.
“There’s a bed,” Poe said, motioning to it and then going to sit on the edge. He leaned back on his hands, all bare skin and thin boy, and he watched Blake from beneath lashes that were too long not to belong to a girl.
Blake watched him, his gaze lingering over him as he leaned back. Poe was too many soft planes against sharp angles to be a real thing, but there he was, leaning back on the edge of the bed in a dingy little room in a beaten down apartment building, all very real and tangible. Blake felt a touch odd, like he shouldn't be here. Everything Poe did was strangely intimate, and he doubted he even realized it. Blake sat down next to him, looking over at him, studying his face. "Tell me about your lessons," he said. He just wanted to listen to him talk.
Poe rolled onto his side and toward him, all lithe grace, and he propped his head in one hand and looked up at him. He understood that it was it was thrilling to be there, on the bed with a man, not wearing his shirt. But he didn’t know about pushing boundaries and limits; he didn’t care about those things either. Repercussions weren’t anything he was concerned with, and he looked up with blue eyes and a grin that said he felt the thrill. “Dance or school?” he asked.
The smile widened a touch unthinkingly. "Either," Blake said, and not for the first time he considered the variety of ways in which all of this felt a touch out of his control in a way he wasn't sure he liked but, in the moment, could not bring himself to care too much about.
Poe rolled back onto his back, throwing his arms over his head and watching Blake as he spoke. “Dance is great. The girls think they’re better than the boys, but they’re always like that,” he said, as if he was imparting great and worldly wisdom. “School is - I have three classes, right? The really early one is fun. I have two friends there, and one of them was telling us about sleeping with older people.” People, not women, people. He sat up, and he gave Blake a questioning look. “He says older people are great, because you can just tell them you want to sleep with them, and they’ll do it, just like that.” He almost snapped his fingers.
Blake tried not to be thrown by that, but he was a little. Maybe Poe was more knowing than he seemed. "Really?" he asked, with interest. "Have you tested your friend's theory yet?"
“Well...” Poe blushed, and he looked down at his hands, “no.” He looked back up a moment later. “But is it true?”
"It's different for everybody," Blake said. His gaze was steady and intense, unwavering from Poe's face. "Depends on the person who wants to sleep with them, too. Now, personally...I would say yes. And I think that might make me a bad man in the eyes of a lot of people, but I've never cared much what other people thought."
“I don’t either,” Poe declared with utter certainty, and if he was ringing his fingers together while he said it, well, he didn’t notice. He climbed off the bed a moment later, groaning when something Rap came on the radio, and he crouched down in front of the archaic player and tuned the wheel until he found something slow. He wandered over to the barre (which was really a broom duct taped to the window sill, and he practiced an eleve while thinking of how to bring up the matter of the ballet that weekend and the box seats.
Blake watched him get up and start practicing, startled and quick to move as a colt. "Do you want a real bar?" he asked, since there was no reason why he should have to practice with a broom taped to the wall.
Poe stopped what he was doing, and he leaned back against the windowsill and the barre, and he smiled a genuinely thankful smile. “You don’t need to,” which very much meant awesome! yes, please!, as was evidenced in the way his eyes lit up at the offer. It did make him tip his head to the side a little. “Do you always do that? You know, offer people stuff?”
Blake filed away that he'd have someone come in and put in a barre and give the place a fresh coat of paint while they were at it. "Yeah, but I'd like to," he said.
Blake's eyes went off to the side for a moment while he considered the question. "People tend to do one of two things when they find themselves with a lot of money - the put it all somewhere they can't touch it because they're scared of losing it, or they spend it like it'll last forever, and either way they're not really thinking about how much it's really worth. Me, I don't fit either way because I don't care much about what happens to it. If I can spend it on something somebody else can't afford, I'm going to do it, because I can and because it seems ridiculous not to. Does that make sense?"
Poe was quiet for at least a minute, and he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the silence as he thought through the words. Then, without warning, he pushed away from the window and he came to drape himself across the bed again. He was on his stomach this time, propped up on his elbows, and he looked up at Blake. “Isn’t that at least something like spending it like it’ll last forever?” he asked. “If you’re not counting it when you spend it, and you spend it on things just because you can?” he asked. Then, with thoughtful astuteness. “You don’t care, do you, if it’s gone? That’s the difference.”
"You've got it," Blake said, still watching him intently. "On the nose." He leaned in toward him, studying his face. He took him lightly by the chin, tilting his head to get a better look, mimicking the touch he'd made at the park. "You know," he said, gaze finally connecting with Poe's again, "You remind me of someone I used to know." His tone was quiet, and a little fond, totally at odds with what one would expect of him if they came into contact with him anywhere in the outside world.
There was something in the touch and the words that gave Poe butterflies, which he would never admit because those were for girls, and so he just looked up at Blake with eyes that betrayed his nerves (unintentionally). “Who?”
Blake didn't let go right away. He ghosted a thumb over Poe's lips instead. "Someone I knew a long time ago." He held still, as if Poe might spook at any sudden movement. "Has anyone ever told you that you're prettier than anyone has a right to be? You look like you'll break if I'm not careful with you."
Poe didn’t know about Creations, and he didn’t know about Musings. He had no real idea why he’d been placed in Hamartia, even though it had been decided when he’d told the interviewer about his vision problem (the red), and he didn’t understand how Blake could have known anyone that long ago - he seemed too young for words like that. Logically, later, he would think that all through. But right then, right then he just shivered when the thumb passed over his lips, parting them a little unknowingly. And when Blake told him that he was pretty, Poe thought he would crawl out of his skin with nervousness. He wanted to look at him, but he couldn’t, and yet he did, but he couldn’t maintain eye contact. Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything stupid. “You like boys?” He groaned immediately after asking, because hello, stupid, and he planted his face on the blanket.
Blake laughed, dropping his hand to the blanket. Oh, God, what was he even doing? "I do. I like women too, but I usually end up with boys more often than not. Do you?" Really the question was unnecessary, but he wanted to see him blush again.
Poe looked up, and while he did blush, it didn’t occur to him to lie, to pretend, and there was a sense that he would be precisely that open with anyone who asked the question. “Yes.” Simple, firm and accompanied by a nod.
"I'm glad to hear it," Blake said, with a pleased smirk. The expression softened a little as he went on. "Look, I'm going to tell you something that's not much fun, but I have to say it before you agree to anything, alright?"
“I’m agreeing to something?” Poe asked, and it was more than a little cheeky, even if there was a little apprehension hiding in the question.
Blake grinned. "I don't want you to think you've got to say yes or I'm going to take your scholarship from you. Whether you want to or not, that's never going to go away. I'm not going to hold it over your head. Alright? This is just about...what you want." He brushed the hair from Poe's eyes. "And what I want. And whether you're interested in what I want to do to you."
Poe’s eyes went wide with surprise, and interest, and something like fear, and the expression on his face did nothing to hide the fact that this, whatever was happening in the room right then, was new for him. “What do you want to do to me?” he asked, voice going up just a touch, and he tried to hold Blake’s gaze as he asked the question, ducking his head and blushing on the last syllable. Because he knew, he did, and his heart was racing and racing with the knowledge.
Blake's smile was pleased and amused with an edge of want he didn't attempt to hide. "A whole variety of things," he said. "But whatever they might be, we can take them slowly, and not rush you into anything you don't want to do."
Poe couldn’t remember anyone looking at him like that, ever, and the look went straight to his belly, curling lower as he pushed himself onto his knees on the bed, the movement one motivated purely by nervous energy. “I want to do things,” he said in a rush, too hurried to be coy or sophisticated, and he tried to fix that immediately after by adding a grin and a, “if you want to. I know stuff. It’s cool.”
Blake shifted closer to him on the bed. "What sort of stuff," he began, leaning in almost close enough to touch, breath ghosting across Poe's lips, "do you know?" He wanted to see if he could lead him to it, since that would really be something to see.
Poe closed his eyes when he felt the breath across his lips, which was stupid, and which he realized only after he’d done it. He couldn’t just open them again, not without looking like a total virgin. “All sorts of things,” he said, voice admirably even and steady, even leaning a little closer, almostsoclose, and then the phone rang shrilly in the background, and he was jumping to his feet and forgetting where it was and fumbling as he answered.
Blake fell back, leaning on a hand, and watched Poe answer the phone. A touch disappointing? Absolutely. Irritating? Of course. But he had promised himself he wouldn't rush Poe any faster than he wanted to go, so he waited to see whether he got off the phone.
Poe managed a few stammering words with his ballet instructor, and he tried very hard not to look at Blake while he had the short conversation, which was about the performance on Friday and additional rehearsals for the rest of the week. Once he hung up, he turned back to Blake, and then he motioned to the door. “That was the ballet instructor. Calling extra lessons for for Friday.” Then, hopefully. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”
Blake got up, moving toward the door. "Absolutely," he said. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Will you have time to see me after?"
Poe tried not to look as crestfallen as he felt at the sudden departure, but there was the desire to replay absolutely everything in his mind about a thousand times that tempered it, and he nodded. “I always have time,” he said enthusiastically, and then thought to make it sound less desperate by adding. “You know, unless I’m hanging out with the guys.”
'The guys' actually made Blake grin as he stood in the doorway. "Got it. Well, if you're not hanging out with the guys, I'd like to see you. Let me know?" This was all trouble, really, but he'd never shied away from trouble in his life, and he didn't see any reason to start now.
Poe moved toward the door, and he tugged it open further and leaned against the edge of the wood, the move innocently provocative, and he bit his lower lip as he nodded, his teeth finding indents easily (a habit, the lip biting). “Thanks for visiting.”
"Any time," Blake said. He left, resolving to have the barre put in and the apartment fixed up tomorrow while he was at class, to surprise him when he got back.