[M] Busted || Stace & Kao ||

[Kao]

▲
you spoke as one
who fed on poetry
I fell in love with
the world inside you.




Nathaniel Wheelwright
St. Louis, MO
The St. Louis Gateway Arch


Okay, fine it wasn't an outburst. But it certainly wasn't normal. Anxiety had always found a way to be destructive in Nathaniel's life. Ira scooped up his arm and surprised him, but Nathaniel allowed it, taking a buzzed stroll through the St. Louis streets on the way to the gorgeous Arch.

The lift ride to the top was cramped, but they rode alone. Once they reached the top, with a bit of a smile, feeling much more relaxed to be somewhere that was not crowded, he leaned onto the bit of wall between them and the tiny window and peered out. The town's beauty helped him relax, despite the heights, despite the fact that he was on a date and he didn't really know how to date. He looked over at Ira who appeared legitimately impressed, wide-eyed and amazed. He admired Ira's childlike awe, but as always, attempting to envision Heaven brought him some pain, weighing on his chest in the same way that ever-disturbing anxiety did.

"Perhaps a little. In the sense that you can look out and see so much at once. But I imagine much of the joy of being in Heaven is from the relief felt when released from your years of suffering on Earth. A sense of accomplishment and pride." He smiled, eyes on Ira's face. He propped a hand up on the wall he leaned on, body bent over it. "But all I feel up here is the alcohol swimming in my skull."

click to play

[Kao]

a boy with too much to say
Ira Flick


Had Ira known that his choice of topic was triggering any sort of negative reaction within Nathaniel (besides the obvious dose of pessimism in the man's tone of voice,) he would have avoided it altogether. But as it was, he looked at the other man curiously, not bothering to filter the judgement trickling through from his thoughts into his expression. Relief? Years of suffering on the Earth? Was Nathaniel gazing down upon the same nostalgia-inducing old town as he was? Ira felt the insatiable urge to wax poetic. He would first push Nathaniel's attention to the grandest features of the city; he'd deepen his tone to a true Storyteller's timbre, pump his fist to the triumphs and anguishes of St. Louis and its people, and cry foul for all the unheard stories its poorest had endured.  And then, like a master woodworker with a fine needle tool, he would carefully whittle out the very smallest delights this magnificent Arch alone had to offer.

Yet he paused just long enough to study Nathaniel's wise eyes in his soft youthful face and think, No...I don't believe any of that is lost on him. So, remarkably, he said nothing.

Yes, there was something quieter, more tragic to Nathaniel's musing than mere human pessimism, Ira concurred with himself. It was the kind of soul-baring insight one may exhume only after several glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon—the life juice of philosophers. Rather than offensive, his sentiment became beautiful in the most devastating way. Relief, he thought again. Yes, relief is the only word precious enough for Heaven.

Ira's expression lightened and with a soft, sympathetic laugh, he eased closer to Nathaniel once again. "I believe you are either experiencing a very trying moment in your life, or you have not yet begun to live," he  said quietly. He kept his eyes turned to the river, but leaned his shoulder gently into Nathaniel's. "For a man who only encounters suffering on Earth does not yet know what joys the Earth has to offer him." Boldly, but with fine-tuned grace and patience, Ira wove his fingers into Nathaniel's. He kept his voice quiet, and naturally it deepened to a murmur meant only for Nathaniel. "Love, for instance... is a rare joy for us. Isn't it? Sometimes tainted with nearly unbearable suffering. ...I think that may make it the most valuable of joys; best not to turn it loose too early." Ira tilted his head toward Nathaniel, but still avoided catching eyes until the very last word of his next sentence.
"Will you walk me to my hotel?"

[Stace]

I beg for a moment, a lingering eternity in your grace, denouncing the cyclical revolution of my own desires, unearthed: a soul for one more day of spineless perpetuation, joyless survival colliding with the blazing forest He made and yet will not Himself quench.                  —softness, n. d.  wheelwright

Nathaniel did not yet know just how remarkable Ira's lack of response to what he'd just said really was, but he did enjoy the brief quiet between them as he looked out over the city again. Truly he did feel the alcohol swimming in his skull, feeling a little unsteady—or was that just the Arch swaying in the wind? He did not know. Either way, it added a dash of fun to just standing around.

He turned his face to Ira with heavier eyelids than before, though he remained quite capable of accessing his wits, but what Ira said stunned him into further silence. It gave him something to think on—something he was quite reluctant to think on considering he was in no rush to admit he'd wasted centuries of his time not living. He glanced down over his own cheeks at their shoulders as they touched, and then moved his gaze to Ira's profile while the other man still looked out at the river. His lips parted with a shaky breath in when Ira wove his fingers into his. His breathing became quicker and he tried not to sound like he was having a panic attack. He wasn't, not this time, though the tension was certainly there. By now, however, the alcohol had done its depressant effect, and the lack of inhibitions had become clear. Holding another man's hand felt nice. This was so lovely, gosh dang it. And Ira got it. He completely understood him, what it meant to be a vampire. That's what he was saying. Love was hard for their kind. Nathaniel admired that they didn't have to bring up what they were to each other. Somehow conversations with other vampires always came to an explicit declaration that each person was, indeed, a vampire and not human please don't bite me.

Nathaniel closed his grasp on Ira's hand and rubbed the base of his thumb from the base of Ira's thumb and up past his knuckle and slowly back down, causing some gentle, twisting friction between their palms that stirred something deep in his gut. He licked his lips, looking Ira in the eyes now that he finally could look at him. He felt victorious when he didn't feel the need to look away—well, not immediately anyway. He nodded with a subtle up and down motion of his head and a slightly growing smile.

"Absolutely," he said, with just enough volume that Ira would be the only one who could hear him. His gaze dropped to his lips, but even with this much alcohol in his system, he abandoned that thought quickly, and stepped back from the wall, moving aside so that Ira could lead.

[Kao]

{prettiness of formatting to come later <<}

It was nearly too good to be true. To have found a man so beautiful, so lovely, and so willing to share his company... well, it was poetry. Just then, Ira could have easily sat down and begun to write a sonnet in celebration of this gift from God. But he did not. Because there was no paper, the lighting was all wrong, and he was on a mission.

"Excellent," he said. "This way, dear boy."

Ira led him to the large casino-hotel with the blue fleur-de-lis on its side. An old building newly renovated and under fresh management. Inside, a security guard watched from behind the front desk as they passed and Ira flashed a hotel key card. The ride to his room, somewhere near the top floor, involved a change of elevators; the first stopped at a sky bar while the second required a guest key and gave entry to the floors with rooms. Everything was cream, pure white, rich blue, or purple, with gold hardware on every door hinge and sink basin.

"Here we are," he announced once they were inside of his room. He gestured grandly to the bed, the chairs, the whole of the elegant room "Feel free to bask in the glory. And take anything you wish from the mini-bar."

[Stace]

They took the tram back down to ground level, and it was just as anxiety-inducing as the first time, despite the alcohol. Nathaniel found himself wondering if maybe he should find some liquor and have just one more shot to really get rid of his nerves. But then again, would that even do the trick? He'd probably find himself passed out before it actually managed to free him from the anxiety he'd been living with for centuries.

What did help was the cool, but humid, summer night air. It was lovely, and so was the view of the river and the glowing moon overhead. Every person they walked past smell ten times more delicious than they normally did, yet with Ira, his new friend or... whatever he might be, at his side, he felt anchored for now—again, despite the alcohol that might have otherwise rubbed out some of his inhibitions. Perhaps the one inhibition that it was truly affecting at this point, was the one that kept him from getting close to people. He couldn't not begin to obsess over the fact that he'd made a friend in a vampire in... such a short period of time.

Nathaniel thought that when Ira had asked him to walk him to his hotel that he might leave him in the lobby, or maybe the elevator, or at most, at the door to his hotel room. And he found that as he passed each of those landmarks, he grew more and more anxious again. Certainly, he'd understood the question right? This was the end of the night, wasn't it? And so why was he standing in a strange man's hotel room. He looked a bit dumbstruck as he looked around the room, though perhaps for different reasons than Ira, who was telling him to bask in the glory of the beautiful hotel room, might have guessed at.

Realizing his mouth was hanging open, Nathaniel shut it and wet his lips before swallowing. "I-it's lovely," he said. He hesitated in taking another step forward. "It's also late. I should... I can't really be here."