Helplessness Blues

When it came to Callan Mack, Javaad could count on one hand the things that weren’t attractive about him. 1. The fact that he was dating his older brother. 2… well. Actually it was only that first one. Everything about the older man was absolutely intoxicating, and Javaad had allowed himself to develop a soul crushing attraction to him that he just couldn’t shake. Any good brother wouldn’t have even opened the door to any ‘funny business’ but Javaad wasn’t a good brother. He could be honest about that. He was selfish and greedy, and very aware of how good looking he was. Though he had always been the sweet, younger Alexander brother, he was done hiding in the shadow of the charming, good looking, popular James. He was making a stand, and before the weekend was up, Callan would have Javaad on his mind constantly, of that he’d make sure. 

“I certainly did,” Callan spoke as he walked inside after Javaad. He wasn’t sure what it was about him, but Callan couldn’t keep his gaze off of his boyfriend’s younger brother. The way he glanced at him with the most beautiful, starry eyes, accompanied with the prettiest lashes Callan has ever seen in his entire life (even more his own boyfriend’s), they pulled him in. Intoxicating innocent and all too dangerous. There was no denying that Callan loved James with every ounce of his heart at soul. But loving someone didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate the beauty of someone else, even if that someone was you significant other’s brother, right? There was no harm in looking. Besides, there was a massive age difference. There was no possible way Javaad would even be interested in the first place. “Ah, well,” Callan started as he kicked off his shoes, heading into the kitchen and grabbing a cork screw. “I wanted wine. And I didn’t want to leave you out. Plus.. this bottle of wine deserves to be enjoyed with good company,” he smirked gently as he popped the cork, grabbed two wine glasses and poured each of them a glass. 

@callanmack​

Callan had just finished cleaning up after dinner. Javaad was in his room writing, James was showering before joining him for the evening. Making sure each one of his three assets got an equal amount of alone time with him was truly a balancing act. That was why he liked to stick to the schedule. The moment he opened the door, he saw Veronica and tilted his head with a curious smile. Callan padded into the room, taking a seat next to her on his bed. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. “Now, now Princess. You know Daddy is spending his evening with James tonight. Remember?”

@callanmack

It was odd. In a good way, Callan supposed. He and James had been dating for quite some time. And in that time, Callan had not only grown close to James, but close to his brother, Javaad as well. Javaad was younger. Significantly so compared to Callan. But he was charming, intelligent, caring and he certainly seemed to have inherited the Alexander genes quite nicely. Although Javaad and Callan had spent time alone together, it was usually time spent waiting on James to come home from work. They would chat and carry on. Over time, Callan found that he and Javaad actually had quite a bit in common. So when Javaad invited him over, knowing James would not be there, Callan didn’t think twice. After all, the two had become friends over time. Although underage as he was, Callan decided to bring over a bottle of wine for the two to enjoy. He rang knocked at the door, his heart stammered in his chest. Why was he nervous all of a sudden? Just then, Javaad’s bright ,gleaming face appeared. Callan laughed. “That would have been painfully rude of me,” he smirked and held up the bottle of wine in his hand. “Plus, wouldn’t want this to go to waste, would we?” 

It was easy for James to judge Callan, and any person who wasn’t looking out for the man’s best interests may have backed off by now, put off by his lavish lifestyle. Or clung to it for personal gain. James didn’t see the point. Being a ‘rockstar’ didn’t take away from James’ natural intuition, and he could tell that beneath that polished exterior, Callan was just a fragile, flawed, regular old human just like the rest of them. If he could break through that armor, maybe he could bring him closer. Maybe then, Callan would allow himself to feel what was clearly between them. At Callan’s toast, James’ smirk shifted into genuine smile, small and gentle, “To being normal.” he countered, taking a drink to mirror his. Slipping off the counter, James brushed past Callan, a little closer to him that he would anyone else, and spoke with a smile in his voice. “Lets get hammered and go swimming. It’s hot as Satan’s asshole outside.” 

Callan felt his heart tug lightly in his chest as James smiled gently. Little stolen moments like these were what made Callan want to throw caution to the wind and just give in to what his heart had been desperately telling him all along. Callan knew it wouldn’t be that easy, though. As James brushed past Callan, he bit at his bottom lip with a tiny smirk, letting him enjoy the view for a moment. “Have I ever told you how much I like the way your brain works?” Callan stood up and followed James’ cue, “I didn’t bring anything to wear so...” he shrugged. He walked over to the door leading out to the pool, unbuttoned his shirt and shimmied out of his pants until he was in his boxers. “Last one in has to cook dinner tonight,” he called out before taking off toward the pool. 

James handed Callan the bottle of whiskey instead of pouring the drink for him. Unlike many of Callan’s ‘friends’, he used the term lightly, James didn’t serve him; Didn’t dote on him hand and foot. Instead, he preferred to keep things even, and casual. He wasn’t some fame hungry wannabe, looking for Callan’s name to catapult him into the lime light. Callan was a good, intelligent, insanely handsome guy, and as it turned out, James actually liked his company. He grabbed himself a beer, popping it open and taking a long drink. “I’m rude to everyone always, don’t you know that by now?” he asked, giving Callan a little smirk, “But no. I don’t think people should arrive fashionably late. Then again I was raised by middle class parents who actually worked for a living and implemented the “five minutes early is ten minutes late” rule.” James pulled himself up onto the counter, sitting comfortably as he watched Callan, “You would have no idea what that’s like.” He joked, though it was true. Callan had lived his entire life with nannies and room service and piles of Money. James’ parents were from Jersey; his father worked at a bank and his mom was a nurse. Perhaps their struggle is where he gained his appreciation for the finer things, trying his best not to take it for granted. “Not that I’m judging your perfumed, tailored, ice-sculpture upbringing.” 

Callan promptly grabbed the bottle and poured himself a drink, taking a quick sip before topping it off and placed it back on his shelf. “Mm, you truly are. And I just keep coming back for more.” Callan flashed a grin before he watched James hop up on the counter. His face became a little more serious as James continued  listening intently. James had a funny way of bringing Callan back down to Earth. Ever since the moment they met. James was a breath of fresh air. Callan thought it amusing that he would spend time away from James, fully emerge himself in the lifestyle he had become so accustomed to. The lavishness. The excess. Fake, fame and money hungry friends that only wanted to be seen with you because of your name and not what was truly inside of you. Waking up every day to put on a show for no one that really seemed to care. James was right. Callan truly had no idea what it was like to not be brought up wealthy. He felt a small pang of guilt in his chest, but it gave him that breath. That moment of clarity that kind of snapped him back to reality. “No no judge away,” he grinned a bit. “You’re right. I apologize for being late. I’ll try and do better next time, okay?” Callan raised his glass. “To being more punctual so some people don’t get their panties in a bunch,” he chuckled. 

When he heard the knock, James gave a little huff. Took him long enough. Padding over to the door from the couch, he may have adjusted his hair and clothing to look extra-presentable, but he wouldn’t acknowledge it. He liked looking nice for anyone, it didn’t matter if it was Callan or not. Callan’s statement when the door opened made James roll his eyes, turning around and walking back into his house with the expectation that Callan would follow. “Whatever. Are you late to fancy Galas in shit too, or just when you come visit little old me?” he asked, heading straight for the kitchen. Opening the fridge, James looked for a brief moment before asking, “Beer or Whiskey?” 

Callan made a face at James. “I saw that eyeroll.” he smirked as he kicked off his shoes by the door and followed behind him. It hadn’t been too long, but Callan had soon found himself becoming more and more comfortable being here. Even more so than being at home, but he would never admit to that. To admit to that would be... complicated to say the very least. “Just you,” Callan teased as he nudged past James to reach for a glass. “You know me better than that.” Out of the corner of his eye, he just couldn’t help himself from stealing a quick glance. Each visit he and James had, he found it increasingly difficult to hide his gaze or hold his tongue. It felt almost as if they were playing some elaborate game. Who could last longer than the other before finally caving in. Some nights, usually the first night after spending time with James, Callan often found himself wondering if throwing it all away... would it really be worth it? “Whiskey. Neat. Are you always this rude to your guests when they’re barely five minutes late?” Callan joked as he leaned against the counter, waiting for James to pour the alcohol. “You know what they say, one must always arrive fashionably late.”

James had a hard time keeping his mouth shut, though the past few months had given him plenty of practice. He’d become a master of avoiding the obvious, hiding whatever feelings he may have behind the semblance of friendship. Callan Mack being the prime reason for his silence. The playboy-billionaire had recently become James’ close friend, and despite the obvious attraction between them, neither allowed themselves to cross that line. Callan had appearances to uphold, and even though James had made a decent name for himself with the success of his band, he knew Callan would never publicly admit his feelings for him. So, as he waited in the comfort of his living room, thumbing through Facebook on his phone, James prepared himself for another night of teasing, and insinuation. Touching the subject, without diving in. Callan was coming over to “hang out’. Innocently of course. And each night had become harder and harder for James to control himself. “Fucker’s always late,” he said to himself, locking his phone and tossing it onto the coffee table.

Callan quickly ran his fingers through his hair, checking himself in the mirror one last time before grabbing his keys and heading out for the evening. So far this evening, Callan had (happily) bailed on cocktails on some swanky rooftop bar overlooking the city of Los Angeles, as well as some socialite’s house party. All in all, he was pleased with himself. After all, he’d be spending his evening with the lead singer of one of the hottest up and coming bands in the scene. Although they’d gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, Callan had soon found himself closer than he’d ever imagined being to anyone. James didn’t expect the Callan Mack that made his appearances just for his namesake. It was refreshing to be around James, and Callan supposed that’s why the two seemed to dance around their feelings, letting their close friendship mask whatever lurked just beneath the surface. Just before stepping inside, Callan glanced down at his watch and smirked before letting himself in. “I don’t want to hear it. I know I’m late, save the lecture,” he teased. “I know you missed me, so therefore you cannot me mad at me.”