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| Innamorato; Passionflower <3 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 10 2010, 08:22 PM (2,576 Views) | |
| onyx | Apr 12 2010, 09:45 PM Post #61 |
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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Sal smirked, “Shakespeare. Should’ve known.” He shook his head in amusement. Thomas did seem the type to spend an entire day curled up with something like Shakespeare. It was intelligent literature; of course Thomas would enjoy it. “I only read him in high school, because we had to,” Sal shook his head again. “Never much liked it… we read Hamlet and the Romeo and Juliet one, and all the drama gave me a headache.” He pulled a face as he recalled the works of literature teachers had forced him and his peers in school. The teasing got another face pulled out of Sal, the blond throwing a torn off piece of bread across the table at the other man in retaliation. The piece bounced off Thomas’ left shoulder and landed beside his plate. “If he’d been Italian, those things would have been half as long and a lot easier to handle. Straight to the point and problems solved with lasagna instead of swords.” He smirked at his diner companion. He cut into a meatball, forking the browned, seasoned meat and wrapping his lips around it. Thomas’ fumble with his name wasn’t anything knew, he’d done it a few times now – started to go formal with his full name and then stopping in the middle to shorten it. And the sheepish little smile he was getting along with it was kind of… never mind. “You can call me what you want, I guess,” Sal relented on the name thing. His face scrunched up a little over it though. “Jus’ never really been called Salvatore; people called my dad that, and since I got named after him, everyone just went with Sal for me. But I mean… you can if you want. Call me Salvatore, I mean.” His brows jumped and his mouth quirked, “Can’t promise I’ll always respond nice to it though. Any friend of mine calls me Sal.” And yes, he’d come to the point where he did in fact consider Thomas a friend. Or, at least a friend-like acquaintance. Sort of. The fact that he was giving the guy permission to use whatever form of his name he wanted to address him by was proof of that. Actually, he didn’t even really do that for friends. So… hell, he didn’t know what he did it for. He didn’t exactly look forward to having to be called by his full name every time Thomas decided to use it, but… for some weird reason he didn’t understand and really didn’t want to think too hard about, he was willing to let the brunet do it. Who knows, maybe it wouldn't even be as annoying as he thought it would... he might even like it with Thomas' voice. He liked just about everything else the guy said already anyway. “Anyway,” he shook his head clear and scrubbed a hand against the top of his head. “Books. Right… not much really. I read the paper and maybe a magazine if its got a story that catches my eye, but I don’t spend too much time with books.” He jutted his chin towards the bookshelf in the other room, “All the ones out there are either shit left over from school or ones Cecelia or Paul dumped on me. Tried to convince me to read and all.” He gave Thomas a look from across the table, “But I can read, just so you know. And not at a third grade level either. I could tackle that wacked friend Shakespeare of yours if I had a mind to.” He smirked, “IF. IF I had a mind to.” |
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| passionflower | Apr 12 2010, 10:18 PM Post #62 |
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do it with passion or not at all
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So he now had the option to call Sal whatever he wanted. Salvatore or Sal. Or any other name that seemed fitting for the blond? That freedom could be greatly abused of Thomas felt the need, though he kept that poking comment to himself. "Thanks," he chuckled a bit. "I'll still try to call you Sal. You're most comfortable with that, right?" he murmured. He looked back down to his spaghetti. He dug back in, with a pleased smile on his face. He was in the midst of chewing another mouthful when Sal went on to mention the few things he cared to read. Newspapers and magazines, sometimes. Not much else. A warm laugh bubbled up from Thomas' chest after he swallowed his bite. "You sure about that?" he smirked, in response to Sal claiming he could read. He took a long sip of his wine before setting it back down. "You should try the Merchant of Venice sometime. Set in Italy," he mused playfully. "Maybe I'll buy you a copy to at least have on your shelf," he chuckled softly. Thomas was surprised that he seemed to be as hungry as he was. He downed a good three fourths of his plate of pasta. It was the kind of food you can't stop eating, even when you're full. Way too tasty to not snarf down a bit more. He let out a content sigh, as he set his fork down, and finished off another glass of wine. He felt good... Plenty full, warm from the tingle of good Tuscan wine and pleasant albeit peculiar company. But Thomas was hardly complaining. What happened next caused the poor Brit's eyes to pop as he let out a sudden burp. Mortified, his hand slapped across his mouth, and even more amusing, his cheeks turned a bright pink. "Excuse me," he murmured, muffled into his hand, as his eyes flicked off to the side. Okay so maybe he was over reacting. It wasn't like he was in the presence of the Queen of England, but... |
| ~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~ | |
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| onyx | Apr 12 2010, 10:40 PM Post #63 |
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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Placated by the brunet’s assurance that he’d put an effort into calling him by the preferred nickname, Sal went back to his wine only to lift a look at the man again. He huffed, “Yes, I’m sure I can read, you brat. Keep it up. Keep teasin’ the cook see if you ever get my food again.” He threatened, albeit with a humor that did away with any possible heat to the words. Licking his lips he shook his head, “Now I’m gonna have read this damn thing just to prove I can.” He muttered a curse under his breath, smirking at the brunet as he did. The fact that Thomas claimed it was set in Italy piqued his interest a little though; so he was a predictable bastard, so what? He wasn’t an ounce sorry for it, nor was he ashamed. Italy had been an interest in him since birth. It was in his blood. Even though he’d never seen it, he loved it and found himself drawn to anything he could find on it or about it, even if it was only vaguely related to the country. By the time they were finishing up, Sal had managed to clean his plate of pasta. The man could be a bottomless pit if he was in the mood. A swiped his napkin across his mouth and turned to his wine, intent on finishing off his second glass before he started thinking about the dessert keeping chilled in his refrigerator. He wasn’t precisely sure what had happened for the first few seconds after Thomas clapped his hand over his mouth, green eyes bugging out of his head. But once it registered that yes, what he’d heard had been a burp, and yes, what he was seeing was Thomas freaking a little over it… well, he didn’t think many people would have been able to contain the sheer amusement that washed over his face then. He couldn’t help but laugh at the brunet, covering his eyes with his hand and crossing his other arm comfortably across his waist as he slumped in his chair a little. The hand slid down to cover his own mouth, still snickering behind it as he took in the sight of the other man. Blushing, he noted – which was perfect. The murmured apology just made him start chuckling again, Sal shaking his head. Clearly, Thomas was a bit mortified, which was made the whole thing so funny to Sal. “Chill, sweetheart,” he chuckled after dropping his hand from his mouth to fold both arms over his chest. He shook his head, smiling toothily at the brunet. “Jus’ a burp. I take it as another compliment. Means you’re satisfied.” He winked, turning his head and thus his eyes away to the side and sighing loudly through his nose, the air shuddering because he was still kind of laughing. |
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| passionflower | Apr 12 2010, 11:16 PM Post #64 |
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do it with passion or not at all
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Thomas was still wide eyed, though he finally managed to lower his hand. His cheeks had softened a little, but not by much. At least he wore a blush well. Though it was still humorous, seeing a 6 foot tall man blush like that. He cleared his throat, as his eyes flicked back to Sal. He told him to chill. He let out a sigh of his own. "Satisfied huh? ..." he murmured. He slid his hand back, to rub along the back of his neck. He still felt embarrassed. High society manners had been well bred into him. But as he'd figured, Sal too no offense. None the less, Thomas was quiet a moment or two as he tried to think of something to draw the attention away from his body's involuntary bodily function to something a bit more classy... or at least not so juvenile. "... So, while we let our meal settle a bit, before we tackle dessert... you mentioned you had some of Paul's things? ... Could I have a look?" he asked. His face had finally relaxed and the pink hue had dissipated, leaving Thomas looking like himself again. He glanced down to the dirty dishes. "I could help you take care of these too..." he motioned to the dishes with a nod of his head. He slid his chair out then, and got to his feet. He took a moment to smooth his hands over his shirt, making sure all was in order. "... Have you ever thought about expanding the pizzeria into an all out Italian restaurant?" Thomas asked then, out of curiosity. Seemed to him Sal had more than enough skill to be able to pull off all the dishes and recipes. The heritage too, to do it. Was really all a question of gumption and if he even wanted to. |
| ~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~ | |
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| onyx | Apr 13 2010, 12:05 AM Post #65 |
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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His chuckles eventually calmed down completely in his chest and Sal went quiet too. However, he was still grinning wide, enough that he could feel the pull of it in his cheeks and jaw. He took to watching Thomas again too, witnessing the slow settle in the brunet as well – from mortification to embarrassment, blue eyes watching as a heated blush softened until it was simply a dust of color high on his cheeks, warm and endearing. It just made him smile more as he saw the way the man’s eyes shifted, obviously searching for something to say. Something to pull them away from his little faux pas. It was… well, it was cute. And it’d been a long while since Sal had looked at someone and come up with ‘cute’ as a proper descriptor. But Thomas was, and he liked it. Fluster looked good on the Brit. The expression on Sal’s face dropped a little at the mention of Paul and some things of his, but he recovered quickly. Remembering the promise from three days prior. “Oh, yah,” he shook his head clear. “Sure. ‘Course.” He let Thomas start to clear plates, standing up as well to share the load. He deposited dishes in the sink, returning to the table to retrieve and cork the wine, storing that away. He joined the brunet at the sink after, once more sharing the load. He hummed a thoughtful sound when asked about his restaurant and possible expansion of menu. “You know… not really, no.” He answered honestly, “It’s always just been a pizza joint. Since they day my pop opened it, pizza has been the only thing offered. But…” he tilted his head, considering. “Could be a good idea.” It really could be. Like he’d told the brunet and just demonstrated, pizza wasn’t his only skill in the kitchen. He could handle more menu items, upgrade to a proper Italian place instead of just pizza. It was possible. It’d take a lot of working out, but it was possible. And… well, he wasn’t adverse to the idea. He cut out on the dishes once there were only a few left in the sink, letting Thomas handle it while he disappeared beyond a door across from the living room – leading into his bedroom. He pawed around his closet some, seeking out the items he’d promised Thomas he could see if he came over to eat. When he returned to the kitchen, he came with a brown box in tow – kind of like a letterbox, but a bit bigger. He set it on the cleared dining table, and then stood there. Lifting a hand to scrub his palm against the back of his neck, Sal frowned hard at the box and cleared his throat. “It’s… a lot of it’s just stupid shit from when we were younger and all. But, yeah…” he gestured at the box for the other man, stepping away from it in favor of a cabinet in his kitchen. He pulled down mugs for coffee without bothering to ask Thomas if he even wanted it, distracting himself as he left the brunet to the box. He claimed it was stupid, the box and its contents, but… Sal didn’t really think that. He didn’t think any of it was stupid. He’d kept it all, after all, so obviously it did actually mean something to him. It was just a natural defense of the blond’s – disassociate feeling to keep from any possible hurt that could be inflicted because of it. Inside the box Thomas would find, just as Sal had said, little tidbit type stuff. Polaroid pictures, the colors dulling out of the thin plastic – of Paul and Sal and different places around town. The schoolyard. A park. Buildings and whatever else had struck a fancy at the time for the deceased twin. Regular photographs were in there too. Along with folded up old report cards and torn of stories from magazines and stuff. There were newspaper clippings, from the All Hallow’s High School paper about Sal’s soccer team and news about Paul’s debate things. There was the script to a spring musical titled “Anything Goes”; Paul had had a part in it. There were a bunch of other little things all tucked into the confines of the box, each a little glimpse into Paul’s life before Thomas. Sal kept his distance at first, dragging out the coffee process while Thomas checked out the box. The last time he’d looked in that thing had been the night Paul died and he’d cried so hard he’d thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head – he almost afraid getting too close to the thing would cause a repeat performance. But, eventually, Sal filled mugs with coffee and carried the two mugs to the table. He put out milk and sugar too, figuring if Thomas drank it at all, he wouldn’t take it black. |
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| passionflower | Apr 13 2010, 12:30 AM Post #66 |
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do it with passion or not at all
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Thomas had gone quiet as they went about doing the dishes. And he finished up what was left as Sal went to fetch some of the things of Paul's that he happened to have. He finished the last piece of silverware, washed off his hands, and dried them off on the dish towel hanging nearby. His head lifted as Sal set out the small box onto the table. And silently the Brit walked over to it. Heh, Sal claimed it was a bot of 'stupid shit'. If it had anything to do with Paul, Thomas knew none of it was stupid. At least to him... He watched as Sal retreated from the box and went about getting some coffee mugs and some of the hot brew going. His eyes then flicked to the box as he opened it. His green eyes softened as he began to paw through the various cut outs, pictures and articles. He had to sit before he could look too much longer. His fingertips brushed over some of the old photos of the two of them, as young boys, preteens, and the like. A hint of a smile came to his lips. He was able to tell who was who, with ease. So many memories... and such the life before he ever met Paul. In a way he was envious that Sal had been able to spend those moments with the other man... though he supposed on the flip side he in a sense had taken away the blond's brother as he got older, as he ran off to med school. In a way the two of them each represented two distinct parts of the younger twin's short life. When Sal returned to the table, he might notice the Brit's head hanging a bit lower than usual. Normally he held it high and straight, with his shoulders back. There was actual a faint slump to his posture. His shoulders shook a bit, and a hand lifted to rest over his mouth, as if that would keep the little sob that wanted to bubble up from getting out. His green eyes had clenched shut, trying to fight his tear ducts' need to release the hot trickles of tears. His face was tight. Lords... maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. To look at such a box. He avoided even lifting his head, though he doubted that Sal could miss such a display on his behalf. The normally collected med student breaking down before his eyes, albeit fighting every second of it. A tear drop finally escaped, landing on a picture of the twins, probably in their early twenties... likely before Paul headed off to Maryland. Another followed, and quickly Thomas began to rub at his eyes. |
| ~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~ | |
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| onyx | Apr 13 2010, 06:46 AM Post #67 |
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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Sal stood off to one side of Thomas, sipping at the hot, bitter coffee in his mug while the Brit sat in front of the box. He didn’t immediately notice the change at first, being that he was avoiding looking at the box, it’s contents, and the man going through it; putting it off until the last possible moment. When he finally made himself look though, he wished he hadn’t. Not because of the box and its contents, but because of Thomas. It did something funny to his chest to see the upright, proper young gentleman slumped over with his head hanging and his shoulders shaking. The hunch made Thomas look so small, the slump unfitting to the rest of the image that had been painted up of him in Sal’s mind. And the tears… those broke Sal’s heart, before he’d even realized that they could. Maybe this had been a bad idea; he wished he could take it back now, go back and somehow convince Thomas that seeing a box of old little odds and ends belongings of Paul’s was a bad idea. He didn’t know how he’d have done that exactly, but he ached to have the chance. Anything, just so long as the tears would go away and the hand would release the mouth, the shaking and hunch and fought, muffled sobs would cease to exist. Sighing, Sal sat his mug down on the table with a quiet thump of wood and ceramic. He sucked at this, he knew he did, had never pretended otherwise, but Thomas crying was like a physical pain in his chest. He hated it. So, he lifted and settled a hand on the back of the brunet’s neck, cupping his palm around it and gently pulling until the Brit tilted towards him, guiding the side of his head to lean against his stomach. He held Thomas’ head there, fingers and thumb brushing and massaging at the back of his neck, brushing at the soft hair at the man’s nape – trying for comfort, though he was so unused to offering such a thing he wasn’t really sure if he was doing it right or not. He could be making it worse for all he knew. He swallowed tightly, casting a look into the box then down, seeing the photo in Thomas’ hands. Attempting (and failing) to ignore the moisture that had fallen onto the image. His hand moved, sliding further into Thomas’ hair, fingers carding the thick, soft strands as he sighed again. “I know,” he told the other man quietly. “I know.” And he did, he knew what Thomas was feeling. Or, at least a version of it. Thomas’ pain was the loss of a lover, his was the loss of a brother; it may have been for different reasons, but that pain was the same. He moved again, slowly crouching down beside Thomas’ chair. He kept his hand on the back of the man’s neck, his other hand lifting to join it and cradle one of the brunet’s temples. He turned Thomas’ face to him and brought their foreheads together, petting his hands over the man’s head, through his hair and just holding him there. Sal closed his eyes, brow a twisted up mess against Thomas’ and chewed at the inside of his cheek to hide the way his mouth and jaw would have been trembling otherwise – if his hands weren’t busy holding and petting at Thomas’ head, he was sure they would have been shaking. If his eyes were open, he’d probably start crying too. “I know,” he said again. The whisper husked with his share of the pain and sadness, fingers tightening against Thomas’ skull, though careful not to hurt the man. |
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| passionflower | Apr 13 2010, 01:04 PM Post #68 |
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do it with passion or not at all
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Thomas was tense all over, as if all of his muscles contracting would stop the train wreck of emotion flooding over him. He couldn't bring himself to look in Sal's direction. He didn't know how long he sensed Sal lingering near, till he heard the faint thump of his mug going down to the table. His head lifted, just a bit, as he looked at the abandoned mug through blurry eyes. His green gaze widened then, as Sal's hand soon cradled the back of his neck. Needless to say it had him a bit startled, as he was tugged gently toward the blond. He soon felt Sal's warm body pressed against his temple. And the soft caressing of his hand, along his nape and through his shaggy dark hair. And slowly Thomas' eyes closed again. Tears flooded from his eyes. The sobs were soft, as he tried his best not to turn into a complete blubbering mess. His hair was incredibly soft... warm too. One of his hands lifted, and the long trembling fingers buried themselves in Sal's shirt as he clutched at the material. "I miss him so much..." Thomas winced. His voice were strained, between the little sobs that kept pouring from him and the pain so very evident in his tone. His face had nestled almost comfortably into the warm confines of Sal's stomach. He'd not been expecting this sort of comfort from the older twin. But he was thankful for it. Even if Sal didn't know a lick what he was doing. He felt the blond's other hand lift, to cup his temple. The Brit opened his eyes a little. They were pink from tears. He felt the warm brush of Sal's forehead to his own, and his eyes closed again. His breath quivered from his chest. His arms found themselves wrapping about Sal's middle, and tightened in their grip. He knew... Maybe not exactly, since Sal had lost a brother, not a lover. But this was hardly about who hurt more, or who'd endured more pain. The point was... he too felt that pain of loss. Thomas slid from his seat then, falling to his knees, against the blond. His forehead slid down, brushing along Sal's jaw. He felt the brush of the light scruff on his jaw and along his neck. His forehead pushed up against his throat then. He wasn't Paul... but having a shoulder to cry into was a relief... |
| ~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~ | |
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| onyx | Apr 13 2010, 01:35 PM Post #69 |
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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A small wash of relief filled him when Thomas went with the comfort rather than reject it. So, at least he wasn’t screwing this up even more. As little as it might be coming from him, at least he knew he was able to provide something like comfort for the brunet. He kept sliding his fingers through the Brit’s hair, soothing and caressing, taking some comfort for himself with the permitted contact. He hadn’t expected Thomas to come down off the chair, so he was a little startled himself when the brunet did. Blue eyes shot open and he nearly came out of his crouch and onto his ass, but he managed to keep himself upright. Thomas nestled himself against him, on his knees between Sal’s thighs with his face pressed to the blond’s throat and shoulder… and Sal was once again at a loss for a moment. Surprised. “Shh… I know, sweetheart.” He assured the other man, feeling his entire being tense and soften all at once to find Thomas had sought refuge on his shoulder to cry. He settled into the arms around his waist, keeping one hand going in the Brit’s hair while the other slid down from his neck to rub along his shoulders and back. “I miss him too.” He admitted quietly, closing his eyes again. He’d never really held someone before… not that he was adverse to the idea or anything, it was just normally when he was this close to someone else it was for a different kind of comforting. And sex wasn’t a drawn out affair for him, not one to cuddle or whatever once the deed was done. But in all honesty… he didn’t mind it so much. The holding someone thing, that is. His hand on Thomas’ back pressed the man in tight to him and held on. He felt important with Thomas clutching right back, leaning on him. It felt nice, despite the dark, heavy feeling that caused it all. “I’m sorry,” Sal told him, voice quiet, husked and sincere. His hand was still moving, brushing slowly through the Brit’s shaggy, soft hair while Thomas sobbed into his shoulder. Turning and tucking his head a bit, Sal pressed a kiss to the brunet’s temple and let his face rest there. “I’d bring him back for you, if I could.” |
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| passionflower | Apr 13 2010, 01:53 PM Post #70 |
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do it with passion or not at all
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Thomas had gone quiet. His sniffling had relaxed, as had the shaking in his shoulders and chest. Finally he was just still, and quiet in the blond's grip. He was a bit in awe of how quickly he'd just broken down, in the presence of a man he'd just met a few days ago. He'd tried to fight it, but it was too powerful to hold back entirely. The Brit lingered there a while more. His eyes had since closed, and his nose pressed a little against the juncture of Sal's neck and shoulder. He caught the scent of the other man. Cologne and cigarettes, and a faint musk that was all Sal. Honestly he smelled nothing like Paul. He really... wasn't Paul. He was Salvatore. Paul was gone... and his conscious needed to stop trying to pull out his very being from the same-faced blond who was holding him right then. The gentle kiss to his temple was a surprise in and of itself, though no more surprising than the whole fact Paul's older brother was serving as a comfort in his time of need. It didn't seem like something... the other man would do. Maybe this was a special case. After all, Thomas had been his brother's lover. And if he really thought about it... who else would miss him the most, but the two of them? Their father was gone, and their mother was.... estranged, so Thomas remembered his lover mentioning. And there it was again. 'Sweetheart'. Thomas opened his eyes a little. Sal may have claimed himself unromantic, but it seemed he could be down right affectionate when the time was right. Between that and being able to cook up amazing Italian food, he'd think he'd be more than be able to make up for any romantic retardation the older twin had. A hint of a smile tweaked his lips. Slowly Thomas eased back. He drew in a slow breath, still a bit shaky, but the air was refreshing, after not being able to take a full breath during his moment of weakness. His hand lifted, to rub at his eyes bit, smoothing away anymore tears. "... S-sorry," he whispered finally. "I never thought... that seeing that box would knock me down so hard," he managed to huff out. His green eyes opened then, still a tad pink. He looked over at Sal, and he managed a faint, sad little smile. "You're sweeter than you give yourself credit for," he chuckled then, as he took one last wipe with the heel of his hand to his eyes. |
| ~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~ | |
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| onyx | Apr 13 2010, 02:40 PM Post #71 |
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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Sal let the other man go when he calmed and started to pull away. The reluctance shocked him, the blond letting himself sit back on his rear on the floor with his knees bent up, curling his hands over his knees – holding onto the caps to refrain from trying to keep the brunet against him like his hands and arms itched to do. He was absolutely losing it; that was the only explanation. He’d never wanted to hang on to someone before, but something unnamed protested loudly in his chest when he suddenly wasn’t holding Thomas anymore. Very strange indeed. For Sal, at least. He watched the other slowly start to piece himself back together. The posture straightened out again, the slouch and hunch gone. He’d stopped shaking, which was good, and the tears had stopped though the puffy redness remained in their wake. It messed up the color of Thomas’ eyes, the irritation from tears bleeding into the vibrant jade and making them some other color. It was strange to look at, but it was striking in its own way. “I should have warned ya,” Sal admitted with a little smile that wasn’t much of a smile at all. It wasn’t actually funny, after all. “That box’s a royal bitch. I can’t… sit around with it either. Bawled the one night I tried,” he attempted another little smile, brow arching pointedly as he did. “Not that you should let anyone know about that.” He waved the apology off then, turning his gaze away from the man on the floor in front of him. Sal leaned back until he lay on his back, keeping his knees bent up and bringing his arms up over his head. He rubbed at his forehead with one hand, staring at the ceiling. He snorted when Thomas accused him of being sweet. “Nah, you just bumped your head or somethin’ in that library. Confusin’ me for someone else.” He denied the claim automatically. It was just his nature to do so. He didn’t consider himself a mean bastard or anything, but sweet was definitely not something Sal thought of himself as being either. He’d felt… well, he still wasn’t sure how exactly he’d felt. It’d been a big mess in his chest that was only just now starting to loosen up and he didn’t have the patience to really sit there and try to untangle the whole thing. All he knew was that seeing Thomas breaking down had stung, hurt him like he had no business hurting, and he’d been desperate to get rid of it. So maybe he’d gotten a little tender over the whole thing, and if that made him sweet than so be it, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to own up to it or anything. Scrubbing his hand over his face, his fingers eventually found his neck and the junction between it and shoulder. It was still warm, tingling faintly from how Thomas had pressed his face there. His nose. In fact, his entire body was still kind of tingling - a pleasant little buzz. He didn't let his fingers linger at the specific point of contact, bringing both hands to settle over his stomach while he continued to look up at the ceiling overhead. |
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| passionflower | Apr 13 2010, 07:47 PM Post #72 |
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do it with passion or not at all
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The Brit cleared his throat, and gave an agreeing nod as the box was referred to as a 'royal bitch' by Salvatore. Though Thomas would never refer to anything in such a crude manner. He'd likely have rather called it 'a box of strong poignant and moving memories'. Though he would have to admit, Sal's version had more of a punch to it. Thomas would admit swears did tend to add the appropriate level of exclamation when used appropriately. He raked some of his hair back, clearing it from his face. So Sal had cried over that box too. His mouth upturned a tad as he told him he wasn't to let anyone know about that little detail though. Hah, such a wannabe tough guy.... Salvatore. Thomas too was sitting on his knees at this point. His hands smoothed a bit, up and down over his slacks along his thighs. His eyes drifted over to Sal as the blond just flopped on down onto the floor of the dining room and stared up at the ceiling. A little shake of his head and a bemused look was his response to Sal's denial of his sweetness. He sat there for a moment or two, before he finally pushed up off the ground and got to his feet. He brushed himself off a bit, then stole a glance to the blond still on the floor. He normally would have offered the man a hand up, but his eyes drifted away, noticing the half open door in the main foyer of the apartment leading to the bathroom. "... I'm going to go freshen up, if that's alright?" Thomas informed then. "... Be back in a few," he added as he walked off and left Sal to lay there on the floor as long as he wished. He pulled the bathroom door closed behind him and let out a sigh. His hand lifted to his face, feeling over his sticky cheeks and warm flesh, heated still from crying. His eyes flicked to the bathroom mirror and he swallowed thickly at his reflection. Not nearly as bad as he had been a few moments ago, but his eyes were still pink, and his hair pretty disheveled. He walked to the sink, turned on the water and soon was splashing some of the cool water up onto his face. He was about to use the wash cloth that was out, then he paused... Okay so maybe he was a bit of a germaphobe at times. He searched the bathroom, and found the small stock of towels and wash cloths. He grabbed a fresh one and brought it to his face, patting it dry. He stole another glance to himself, folded up the wash cloth and set it to the side, and then began to fuss a bit with his hair. His gaze softened as he watched himself in the mirror. Hm... Sal's fingers had been stroking through his hair earlier. Petting him, comfortingly. His hands slowed a moment. And he blinked twice when he realized his cheeks were flushing up. It had been a strange moment over all. Moving, emotional... that must have been why. Either that or his mind was mistaking Sal for Paul again... Stupid confused brain. |
| ~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~ | |
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| onyx | Apr 13 2010, 08:25 PM Post #73 |
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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Thomas was a blur in his peripheral once he was up on his feet, but Sal didn’t let his eyes drift over to get a proper look. He just studied his ceiling, eyeing the textured white expanse overhead – not pristine, but good enough. It did its job at least. His gaze stilled on a single, unimportant spot overhead when Thomas spoke, the blond listening. Sal hummed a sound of acknowledgement, head rocking in a slight nod. He didn’t move at all as the brunet left his immediate area in favor of his bathroom. Just lying there, his thumb brushed back and forth over the fabric of his tank top, over his stomach while he thought about really nothing at all. Sure, there were things he could think about, probably should, but he wouldn’t let himself. Think complicated things fast and he’d rather not deal with it. Not right now. Maybe at some point it’d be easier to do and he’d allow it, but for now… it was just best to keep quiet and still and focus on how the floor felt under him – instead of the box on the table, the pictures inside or the ones framed on the shelf in the other room, and especially the man in his bathroom. Huffing a long, somber sigh, Sal eventually got himself up on his feet again. The coffee in his mug had cooled, barely lukewarm at this point, but he drank it anyway and polished it off in a few quick swallows. Taking both mugs to the sink, he dumped the one he’d made of Thomas, sure the Brit wouldn’t want it cold if he wanted it at all. He rinsed the mugs and set them aside. The CD was still playing from the other room, the melody curling up to him. It was kind of misplaced at this point; any enhancement it might provide, as Thomas had suggested earlier, was totally lost on the blond leaning against the counter near his sink. A scowl overtook his face and Sal scrubbed a somewhat aggressive hand over his face, practically growling at himself. This was why he hated getting emotional about stuff… always left him feeling strung out and gritty, temple pounding like the start of a headache and hot, heavily pressure built up on at the back of his eyes. And the constant running of his mind. Getting emotional made it hard to not think and right now, he really needed to not think. Frustrated, but stubborn, he turned to the fridge and fussed with the dessert tray chilling inside. |
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| passionflower | Apr 13 2010, 09:53 PM Post #74 |
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do it with passion or not at all
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After taking a few more minutes in the bathroom, Thomas finally got himself composed. The pinkness of his eyes (and his cheeks) had worn off, for the most part. He'd tided up. And after a few deep breaths he finally opened the door and walked back out. He idly noticed the Italian music still playing in the background. If the music had been playing during his outburst, he'd been deaf to it. The whole world had gone pretty silent in those moments, for Thomas. But now that his mind was clear again, for now, he noticed the music once more. Thomas stole a glance into the dining room and joint kitchen, and soon spotted the blond looking into the fridge where the dessert tray resided. Silently he walked into the kitchen, and he tipped his head and one of his warm hands ended up resting on Sal's shoulder, while the brunet attempted to look over the blond's shoulder at what exactly he'd prepared for dessert. He managed a soft smile when the blond finally noticed his presence. "Dessert makes everything better," he spoke, attempting to turn their evening from that emotional blow up to something more light-hearted. It was a bit of a head rush, realizing how much Sal had already seen of him. Thomas wasn't one to typically share his vulnerable moments with strangers. Though... Sal wasn't really a stranger anymore. Even when he met him, he knew who he was, just... had never gotten a chance to meet him. It still felt a bit awkward. But... considering the strange circumstances that had brought them together... he supposed it could have been worse. |
| ~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~ | |
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| onyx | Apr 13 2010, 10:18 PM Post #75 |
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dream a little bigger, darling <3
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Sal hadn’t heard Thomas’ return to the kitchen, looking back at the brunet in mild surprise when his hand found his shoulder. The blond noted the freshly washed off and cooled look of the man’s face; the puffy redness around his eyes was gone and he looked more himself now. Sal cracked a small smile at the comment about desserts. “Yah, it does. Specifically, chocolate makes everything better.” His arm shifted and a hand found Thomas’ waist behind him, palm pressing to back the brunet up while he lifted the tray in the fridge out with his other hand. “Which just so happens to be a hefty player in our dessert tonight.” The admittedly intimate touch to the man’s waist hadn’t been thought about. Sal’d just done it, the action not even registering. It wasn’t a long point of contact though; the hand sliding away as soon as he’d retrieved the tray, using it to shut the fridge before turning for a counter. “You’re not allergic or prejudice against bananas are you?” Sal asked as he sat the tray on the counter, fetching two small plates for them to eat off of. On the tray were squares of thin dough, cut into palm sized bars for convenience. Each square was layered with dark chocolate and a smooth hazelnut spread, topped with slices of banana. Sal flashed a grin as he placed one on a plate and turned to present it to the other man. “Dessert pizza,” he explained, humor touching his voice. He shrugged as he handed off the plate. “It’s what I do. If we didn’t have it for dinner, might as well have it for dessert.” |
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