Re: Log: Damian/Misha
Damian smelled like Damian. The scent was real unique, and Misha could untangle it, but that didn't explain the whole smell of a boy in a way that was satisfying any. He liked the smell, and he'd be able to place it any damn place. In retrospect, the cigarette Damian's daddy had been smoking at the party smelled some like the scents in Damian's room, even though they weren't real exact. But smells, they took a backseat to how Damian's hand felt cupping hair and cheek, and it made Misha feel a whole lot better 'bout everything, that touching. "I couldn't tell how fussed you were when I was out there, and I reckon I still don't know for sure, but you touching me is real reassuring. Ain't it amazing, Plum? How the splay of fingers can make such a damn difference in how a person feels." It was random observation, and Misha didn't see no point in not letting Damian know he was having trouble sussing things this evening. He chased the words with the pad of his thumb to Damian's lower lip, where he tugged down real light before pulling the touch away.
Truth was, Misha didn't expect jealousy from Damian. He'd tossed that option on out on account of it being the easiest tie to how Damian was acting. He'd been acting fine before the pianist turned up, and the conversation was open on the phone, so it seemed real logical. But jealousy, it wasn't something Misha associated with Damian any, so he wasn't real surprised when Damian said he wasn't jealous any. He glanced at the phone once Damian countered that real sure, and he was left with the comments 'bout working, along with that cool smile. "I can get back to working this weekend. It's warming now. They'll have shows most nights." It was real practical, and Misha didn't expect Damian to take care of him financially any. Now, Misha didn't have a damn clue how to do most things involving finances, but he knew he would get paid, and he knew he was entitled to a trailer or a tent, should he need one. Could be this was all just 'bout him going back to work.
Could be it was a whole lot of other things. Frustration at needing to tend to folks, like Louis. Frustration at the lost time. Frustration 'bout the party, both happenings with Damian's daddy and Damian's own experience, the one he didn't want to talk on much any. Could be the other boy was just frustrated after all that talking 'bout his momma's family. Could be talking 'bout girls versus boys, and that had gotten Damian real riled too. Could be...
Then, Damian took to explaining the bottles, and Misha sat upright and quit nosing at Damian's skin. Damian talked real flat, and Misha watched the boy near as much as he listened to the words coming from his mouth. He had questions, but he wasn't real sure now was the time to go asking them. He was starting to realize he was pulling teeth that didn't want pulling, and he didn't want to push 'bout this if Damian wasn't inclined to have him know. He was torn 'tween wanting to help and Damian's flat tone, and he ended up covering Damian's hand with his own, and the little orange bottles be damned. "You ain't got to tell me anything you ain't inclined to tell me." He hadn't realized Damian was using his drug every single day, and it felt a whole lot to Misha, but what did he know? He understood he was real clueless 'bout all this, and he was just going to make a muck of it if he went in blind, but could be this wasn't the best way to go sussing things. "You ain't got to tell me anything else," he reiterated, and he turned toward the boy on the bed some, knee coming up 'gainst the side of Damian's thigh. "What're you inclined to do right now?" he asked simple.