I don't want to be like this, why am I like this?

This bar was frequented by many other fellow reporters and some celebrities, so he should have known better when he decided to go to this place to unwind after a long day. Lawrence was wearing sunglasses inside and a cap, already trying to fly under the radar, but his archnemesis who was sitting a few rows ahead would recognize him in a heartbeat. So he slid on the first empty booth he found —well, almost empty because there was someone on the seat across from him. 

With the perfectly practiced smile he had mastered throughout the years, he leaned over the table, showing his palms in a sign of coming in peace. “This must sound strange, but can I hide with you for a moment? There’s someone I really don’t want to talk to.”

Damien had no idea the type of bar he'd wandered into. There were perks and cons to living life on the road, and while the place was busy it was the perfect place to people watch. Dealing quietly with social anxiety and having to mask for engagements was exhausting, but in the same hand, he was also lonely.

A way to comfort that ache was to go to busy places and belong there. Just.. observe. His form of socialising, and it felt safe. Nobody was going to approach anyway, not in this day and age. Sitting in the last corner booth, a cigarette flicks into the ash tray while a hot batch of fries sits in front of him. Reaching to munch on a single fry, a man approaches with an easy presence about them and.. sits down.

Before a response can be formed, the stranger clarifies their reasoning. "Oh? Uh- sure." A tattooed hand gestures openly to the spot across from him. Unsure of what to add, another fry is eaten. "Why do you feel the need to hide? You look like you can handle yourself."

dprian Instagram March 11, 2023

Literally my 5 min of ME when I was in Korea. At my place in the @mondrianseoulitaewon !nice place but I can assure you my mind was racing like a track horse in this current moment and little did I know it would ultimately lead to a peak episode shortly a few days later…. Oh the song is just whatever ..🪂

"Then don't piss me off, I thought that was kind of a simple cause and effect kind of thing."

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔣𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 - ᴀ ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ɪɴ ᴄ-ᴘᴛꜱᴅ, ꜰɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇ ɪɴ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴀʀᴄɪꜱꜱɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴅɪꜱᴏʀᴅᴇʀ ᴏʀ ᴀ ꜱʜᴀᴅʏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ɢᴏᴠᴇʀɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. ꜱʜᴏᴡᴄᴀꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡ/ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ɪʟʟɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴀʙʟᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ.

⸻ɢᴇɴʀᴇꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴍɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ; ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ɢᴀʏ ᴇʀᴏᴛɪᴄᴀ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ, ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ, ꜱʟɪᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ & ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ.

Carrd. || Headcanons. || Starters. || Memes. || Adult, 33 y/o with nearly 20 years of role-playing experience.

sitting back against the chair, legs spread eagle, elbows resting on the arm rest and inked hands holding his phone doom scrolling. "not everyone will, but i do." he studied everyone, no one was safe and that also included damien. you don't have to necessarily hate someone to observe them closely. "there's no none involved i don't know how you came down to that conclusion." dark hues settled on the other. "what the fuck are you on ? i know you're more gay than me." and he'll sit on that hill forever. feeling prying eyes on them, saint looked at the nail tech lady who seemed to be judging them or just damien, who the fuck knows. it wasn't like he cared what people thought.

"you aren't hilarious by the way. did you realize i'm not laughing? and of course you're content with it because you are the only laughing at your jokes." shaking his head, eyes going back to his phone again. damien tries and saint will give him that.

Damien was quiet while company said what had to be said. Although on occasion, he'd spare Waylen a glance to show he was listening. Once his nails were painted, the nail technician would put a small portable machine on the table and told him in broken English to put one hand in for about a minute then do the other side. She'd then get up and walk away to tend to something else.

This is when he'd lean over toward company but not into their personal space. He was a joker, but not the type who didn't know when to quit. "Come on brotha, you're not fooling me." The chest heaves a little bit, seeing how his friend was leaned back and checked out from his teasing.

"You know I'm just having fun, this never happens to me and I get a little pampering. God knows you wouldn't do it." It's playful, but his voice is low. After the timer went off, he'd switch hands. The freed limb would brace on the table with his elbow, and glance at it. Moments later, it's waved around almost dramatically as if to air dry it more. He didn't know what the hell he was doing.

Warm brown eyes cast toward the phone in Waylen's hand, he catches a peek at it. "Mhm." There's a few beats of silence before the timer went off again, and the tech would come over, check his nails and wave him over to check out. "Come on, I'm done." He'd rise to check out, making a conscious point to say nothing else until they'd left the establishment.

"Why'd you ask me anyway? You knew I'd give you shit. Something genuinely on your mind?" Damien glances out to the parking lot and is seen disassociating for a moment, then back down at his hands, he seems happy. Attention would drift back to company once more with slightly furrowed brows. "You hungry? I still got plenty of money to spend."

✒️┋ Jay allowed a moment of silence; a pause that enabled him to really consider the heft of Damien's response.

He understood, on a deeper level than one might think. Summer rendered him useless— not just to his craft (which was always going to be paramount to Jay), but to his people. The ones who depended on him, and who had depended on him since the 80s. He grew up during a point of high tension, particularly for gay men, and Jay had taken it upon himself to use his experience as both queer and a certified loudmouth to educate the ignorant masses. It wasn't cost-free, either. It had actually earned him a lot of ire. Even a couple of attempts on his life.

Still, for all of his passion and fury, he was immobilised when the season turned hot; when the sun decided it was ample time to burn and scald, turning the air acrid and the world borderline uninhabitable for such a hot-blooded creature. He felt guilt for it, of which he'd pumped into his stories too. Indirect apologies weaved within plots that reflected the plight of the real world, but that were just different enough to offer him a quiet sense of detachment. A means of atonement for the time he was forced to retreat from his station.

But it wasn't his fault. And it wasn't Damien's fault either.

"You have to take care of yourself first and foremost," Jay admitted. If Damien was to take anything away from this conversation, he didn't want it to be shame. "If you're not in fighting form, you're no good on the front lines anyway. It's a noble thing, nursing yourself into strength. Even if it takes decades, you're doing the work. At the very least, you want to help. There are plenty of people who don't. And there are plenty of people who are happy to contribute to the things we have to fight. I wouldn't blame yourself too intensely just yet."

He was distracted by Damien taking his hand. Touching it softly, almost seeming to explore it. It lulled him in a way he couldn't quite explain. He felt almost like he did when someone scratched his scalp post-sex. Somewhat dreamy. Relaxed. ASMR.

"I told you," Jay murmured, his voice slightly thicker with a degree of distraction, "I understand. I've been clean for decades now, thankfully, but… I was a mess in my late teens. Drinking, cutting— and quitting them both was one of the hardest things to do in the world. Even now, with all the experience I have. Living as a public figure, public speaking, publishing, living as an openly bisexual man throughout the 80s— all of it pales in comparison to fighting how tempting a razor blade was to me in my freshman and sophomore years. I—"

Damien stood abruptly, throwing him completely off track. Up did his head cant, blue eyes brilliant in the glint of the fire. It didn't look that low to him.

A hand snapped around the retreating man's wrist. His grip wasn't harsh, just enough to keep him there, but the heat of his palm radiated, spread from where his fingers connected and Damien's skin began. Unintentional, but demanding nonetheless.

"Are you running from me?" Jay asked pointedly. "Why? This is the kind of conversation I crave. I think it's the sort you do, too. You would've told me to shut up hours ago if it wasn't. Why do you feel compelled to hide from me? Do I make you feel seen?"

Damien suddenly felt touch to the left wrist, it was very warm; arousing, but even more so it was very certain. Damien abruptly came to halt as the grip forced his hand away from an otherwise clear erection.

'Why do you feel compelled to hide from me? Do I make you feel seen?'

The mouth went dry, and Damien internally panicked. Whether it was intentional or not, Jay had removed the gracious attempt to be polite and modest about how turned on he felt. Awkwardly pivoting to address the man who continued to hold him from where they sat.

An obvious bulge pressed against worn material showed curvature slightly to the left and resting at roughly 16.5 cm. The chest heaves with what sounded like disappointment. Rather than answer the question, it starts with another apology, a delayed smile, and a very soft laugh. He's owning the attraction.

"I'm sorry, luv. I am listening to you, intently. But I meant what I said earlier, you fascinate me. Maybe that's the wrong word? What do they say in books? Captivated? Desired?" Damien briefly rubs at his own moustache with his other hand to self soothe. There's a bit of ease in knowing just moments prior that company was bisexual, and he wasn't fully in hot water. A bisexual man could at least understand, and that is what he was deeply hoping for.