SUPERPOSITION

florian keeps on pouting through it all. he’d love to be dancing the night away with arlo right now. but if he stops being so dramatic for a moment, flo has to admit that he loves to watch arlo in his element just as much. florian knows the important role of the sheridan’s in helping him settling down in the island, and flo silently thanks them for that. besides, arlo looks happy, flo can tell he is having fun while making sure the guests are having a good time. if it’s possible, it makes florian like him even more.

“and here i was, thinking you were the best bartender in all the greek islands.” flo’s still pouting. but it’s clearly a joke. there’s something about arlo that just makes flo unbearable, like an overly excited child. and this child really needs a drink. “what about something fruity?” he offers, ‘cause this child also needs some sugar. “like a sangria? beau’s mom makes some delicious sangria,” he ponders, his smile growing when an idea hits his head. “i can make you one if you let me come to your side of the bar.” 

     ARLO ROLLS HIS eyes playfully at florian, though a smile still prevalent on his features. and that’s the thing about florian, especially lately: there’s not much he can do to piss arlo off. granted, arlo doesn’t really get all that pissed off to begin with but it’s safe to say he’s rather smitten with the french boy. and it certainly doesn’t help that they’re at a wedding, even if they’re not technically each other’s dates or anything. it’s like the feeling is stirring around the room, an invisible pink that swirls in the air and kisses your nose and fills your lungs until you’re high with it. 

nate was …  definitely not supposed to be at this event. besides the fact that he knew literally not a single soul involved, having only arrived on the island what felt like moments ago, the entire wedding was the antithesis of anything he tried to associate himself with - romance, whimsy, commitment. stuffy events filled with dramatic heartfelt declarations were not exactly his definition of a good time. in fact, he tended to be barred specifically and by name ( something about the hollywood elite preferring their special day not to devolve into a frosted fist fight )  

and yet the reception was a different story - one could hardly resist the temptation of an open bar and any opportunity to let loose, after all. even just the promise of a party was enough for nate. never one to be deterred by something as base as rules, he had simply wandered in once the party had gotten into the swing of things, blending in with the rest of the guests who were half drunk already. it wasn’t exactly hard to just duck out of the way of the guests of honor every time the brides made their rounds - which is how he found himself sequestered off to the side hours later, a questionable number of rounds deep and watching in morbid fascination as couples swayed across the dance floor. rarely did he feel regret at having crashed something but fuck this was not the ideal trajectory of the evening.

“i dunno, could you put us both out of our misery ?” nate snorted in reply, eyes cutting over. being directly addressed at an event you’ve crashed is mildly concerning, but at this point being thrown out would at least be interesting. “if i have to watch one more spotted preteen fumble his way through asking a pretty girl to dance .. even i haven’t drank enough for that.” popping the offered fruit into his mouth, he scowled. “fuck. i’m not sure why they even bother - staring awkwardly into each others eyes for an entire song cannot be worth whatever potential benefits are reaped later.”

     THERE’S SOMETHING TO be said about sneaking into a wedding. it’s an art, really, an olympic sport of sorts. it’s not so simple as to just walk in and go unnoticed: it’s an anonymity that must be maintained throughout the night, or a really convincing alibi of sorts. arlo tends to, if he ever does stumble into a celebration of sorts, take on the tipsy flamboyant persona that people ( especially ladies ) seem to love and thus, don’t even begin to question. of course, the escape route is a whole different story, and it’s one that arlo has had to write himself from time to time. and while he knows the family pretty well, he doesn’t know everyone at the wedding.

Kyle was not supposed to be here. He’d just sort of…stumbled into the wedding party, but so far everyone had been very nice and no one had seemed to realize that he didn’t belong. There was something about being at the heart of something so wonderful and alive that he just couldn’t pull himself away.

Yet, he couldn’t fully immerse himself either. He hovered at the edge while slow music swept into his ears and couples joined together on the dance floor, allowing himself to take it in. Words cutting in from one side startled him and he quickly looked over putting a small, shy smile on his face, wondering if he was about to finally be called out.

The word ‘no’ came to his lips at the question but he held it back when he saw the cherry, his head tilting curiously. A larger smile formed over his lips, blue eyes flashing a bit in mischief. “Yeah…” he paused for a moment, turning his words over in his head. “I’m Kyle. Do you want to dance?” it was part-joking, part-serious, sounding like he would easily accept rejection or follow through and dance with an acceptance.

     AT KYLE’S QUESTION, arlo glances over his shoulder at the other bartender and bar back, then back at kyle. he sticks a hand out for him to shake. “arlo,” he introduces himself. a small smirk lingers on his lips as he surveys the dance floor, speckled with couples slow dancing and swaying. he keeps kyle’s hand in his own and steps away from the bar. “i have two left feet and a boyfriend, so i can’t say this will be any sorts of good or beneficial for you,” he tells the other. “but i did take a dancing class once when i was younger.”

     after a sip of her drink ara reflexively opens her mouth to bite down on whatever arlo spooned her. but as soon as the maraschino cherry hit her tongue her nose scrunched up and pulled the cherry back out, dangling it by its stem. “eww,” she laughs, “why would you feed me this whole?” she turns and plucks off the stem, tossing it into a nearby bin before popping the cherry back in her mouth. she slides back resting her elbows onto the bar, looking out into the crowd swaying to the music. it had been a magical night, the ceremony, the vows, the party. seeing two people in love and happy always hit ara’s heart differently, every time. “mmm,” she hums at his comment, and looks at him after a moment, “everything is romantic to you.” she smiles then flutters her eyes shut for a moment. the alcohol she had tonight wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to make everything feel light and floaty, almost dream-like. she slids her head further down, resting ontop of the table. “what you could get me is maybe some real food?” she asks, batting her eyelashes up at him as she gives him her best pout. “please?”

     ARLO GRINS AT ara’s disgust, only laughing at her reaction. “what? you’re supposed to tie the stem in a knot in your mouth. proves if you’re a good kisser or not.” he laughs and wrinkles his nose. “i can’t do it very well, so... i don’t know what to make of that.” she’s not wrong in saying that everything is romantic to arlo— it’s pretty accurate, honestly. arlo finds the smallest of details to be romantic: whether it’s the breeze coming off of the ocean or the order in which someone’s fingers touch your hand as they go to hold it, there are so many things that make life romantic to him. he sighs softly and smiles at ara while she rests her head on the surface of the bar. he pauses for a moment, lips pursed before he turns behind him and pulls out a small takeaway container. he sets it down in front of her and pulls out two forks from behind the bar, then opens the container. inside is a slice of wedding cake, which mrs. sheridan had slid to him as he was running around during the cake cutting ceremony. “you have to share, though,” he tells her as he picks up a fork for himself. “and what’s the problem with finding everything to be romantic?” he retorts, head cocked to the side. “not everything, though. there are plenty of things that i find to be turn offs.”

          RHIANNON SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED TO SEE ARLO AT the wedding. after all, he was so lovable — of course he has connections to various people across kaos. but knowing that this is NORMAL, that she lives near arlo, that he’ll often pop up at places she goes to? she hasn’t gotten used to it, not yet.

         but she is trying. rhiannon was an emotional person, never able to hide her feelings. in this moment, however, she’s trying. she keeps her face blank, trying not to spot him out of the corner of her eye. ( she missed andres. they weren’t technically anything, but to rhiannon, they were; just enough for his leaving to hurt, to feel like a failure on her part. she felt this way before with arlo, but on a considerably worse scale. ) arlo’s voice snaps her out of the melancholy thoughts. he’s offered her a cherry. he remembers how much she loves them. ❝ …no, thank you. ❞ she looks at him, trying to offer him a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. ❝ …super awkward. but i think that depends on who you’re dancing with. ❞

     THE ONE PERSON arlo wouldn’t quite like to see at a wedding is rhiannon. as lovely as she is and as much love as he has for her, there’s something unsettling about seeing your ex girlfriend at a wedding, with whom you once believed you would marry but you got scared of the commitment so you left. and it’s tough, you know? it’s tough, since arlo is quite content with his love life and he feels like these are times in which he should be mending his other relationships and putting more love out there, rhiannon certainly no exception to that. so, it’s a peace offering if he could ever muster one: a cocktail cherry, plopped on a spoon and facing rhiannon. he shrugs and eats the cherry himself, if only to stall himself from the thick tension of awkwardness that’s stewing between them as rhiannon speaks. he nods and lets his eyes wander to the dance floor.

it had all started with a mysterious white envelope and a present, tied with a golden bow, beckoning rory to unwrap it. ‘to the dearest todd’ was inscribed in beautiful calligraphy on top. her step-father, yes, but who was sending gorgeous gifts to the now-dilapidated villa? there was nothing rory liked more than a little bit of intrigue, and she’d barely shot out the text to her stepfather before she was opening it, carefully as to not make a mess of it. 

and now, here she was. she’d picked a pale yellow sundress to wear with a dainty gold chain to adorn her neck. weddings for rory had been a bit of a sore spot in the past. a life full of your mother’s men will do that to you, but she was determined to make this one different. to not make any trouble, for once. problem was, the bar. she was stalled at it, the words ‘gin rickey’ on the very tip of her tongue, ready to spill out along with all of her resolve for the night. her gaze shifts from the bar to the people desperately, in hopes someone would be out there, reading her mind, telling her to keep it in control, for once. of course, nobody is there, and she’s left turning back to the bar, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “what? uh— no, i’m good.” it’s a bit distracted, but it’s all she can do right now. “romantic yeah…but awkward? sometimes even boring? i’d wager that too.” she’d never been much of a romantic.

     ARLO SHRUGS AND pops the cherry in his mouth for himself, though he definitely shouldn’t be eating on the job. then again, who cares? a) it’s arlo, b) it’s a wedding, and c) the night is starting to wind down. he tosses the spoon into a dirty dish bin and leans on the counter, forearms resting in front of him as he looks over at rory. though he doesn’t know her all that well, he can sense something is off. he quite likes her: confident, quick with her words, poised in a way... there’s something about her demeanor that isn’t exuding such a persona. she looks smaller, even. he’s not about to pry, of course, not at a wedding. though arlo is a sucker for romance and love, he knows weddings can be uncomfortable for others. and while he can’t quite wrap his head around how anyone could feel anything less than genuine happiness and butterflies at weddings, he can set his own stubborn views aside and accept the fact that not everyone lives with their heads in the clouds like he does. “oh, awkward. absolutely,” he nods. “i stepped all over my girlfriend’s feet when we first slow danced. i was fifteen or so, and it was a hot mess.” he presses his lips together. “i guess it’s just romantic with the right person. and the right song, if we’re being honest.” he wrinkles his nose and lets out a sigh. “would a shot of something make it all less awkward? i’ll do one with you.”

          ━━ “A yacht or a water bed,” Jesse answered, still eyeing the small group of slow-dancers on the makeshift dancefloor before them. “Preferably both,” he added, chuckling to himself and finally turning his head to look at Arlo. When the cherry was offered, he grinned, leaning to the side and takes a bite. “It’s not poisoned, is it?” A jest, Jesse asked before chewing slowly. “Too late all the same, eh?” He combed his fingers through his hair, “Awkward if you’re drunk, amusing if you don’t know how to waltz and romantic if you’re open-minded,” he contributed, shrugging a shoulder. “Are you close to the family?” He didn’t crash the wedding, he was invited—except he’s forgotten who asked him in the first place. But, hey, he was welcomed warmly upon arrival at the reception. “How was the, uh, service… wedding?”

     "I’VE ALWAYS WANTED to try out a water bed.” and he’ll leave it at that— after all, arlo is at a nice wedding and he is technically on the job, thus this isn’t the best place to discuss what exactly it is he’d test out on said water bed. at jesse’s question, arlo’s brows furrow and he stifles a laugh. “poisoned? why on earth would i need to poison you at a celebration of love?” he asks, only holding the spoon up a bit higher in front of the man’s face. he grins and listens as jesse speaks— it’s now he realizes that perhaps he’d strolled in late, or wasn’t supposed to be there at all. no judgment on the latter: arlo has crashed many kaos weddings in his time. “sort of?” he shrugs. “they helped me out a lot when i first got here, so it feels almost familial. weird, too, since i started working for a competitor, if we want to get specific but there’s no, like animosity or anything. it just worked out for me as far as housing goes.” he lets out a sigh and absently wipes at the bar surface with a towel. “beautiful,” he answers. “i might’ve shed a tear or two. they both looked gorgeous, and i just...” arlo sighs.

for @superpcsitions​ .

   She was cleaning up her gear, not that Esme was this full blown photographer or anything but she had a tripod and the basics of a rising picture-centered lover. A bit of a sigh escaped her at the description. Being alone with her thoughts  was sometimes exhausting, actually entertaining herself at this rate. Sure the island was amazing and held wonders but the same routine - walks, dinner, home -  she may get in a rut on the small land. There was no rush out of her air bnb but Esme knew she should start deciding if she was going to stay more permanently then a home of her own we be a plus. Shoving the tripod into her bag, the girl almost missed the approaching person, out of the corner of her eye she noticed them holding something.

   “Um – Apologies what did you say?” 

     ARLO STANDS AT the other side of the room but takes a few steps closer to esme as he realizes she hadn’t heard him. in his hand is a wall plug and camera battery. “forget this?” he repeats himself once he’s closer to her. “i plugged it in behind the bar earlier tonight. i just noticed it. i take it it was the backup to the backup battery?” he lets out a laugh and hands it over to her. “can i help at all?” his brows furrow as he speaks, extending a hand to gesture to the tripod bag. it’s the end of his night of helping out, sure, but he’s not in much of a rush to get home. all he’s going to do is sleep, after all. “it was a long night, but the wedding was gorgeous. i’m sure you got some great photos there.”

florian watches his boyfriend from the other side of the bar. he’s had a couple drinks already, nothing like last time. just enough to keep his energy up and his mood bubbly. it’s not like he really feels like drinking much after his last hangover. right now, florian could be talking up the guests, dancing around with friends, helping out miss donna. but instead, florian just leans on the bar, resting his face on the palm of his hand as he watches his boyfriend to the sound of some romantic song in the background. ridiculous, he knows. a cliché. but there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

“you can get yourself over here and come dance with me,” he replies, taking the cherry and bringing it to his lips. “but if you insist on helping at the bar, could you make me a drink, s’il vous plaît?”

     AS MUCH AS arlo would’ve liked to attend a wedding with florian, he knows he owes the sheridans a lot for helping him get on his feet when he first arrived to kaos. after all, arlo had no idea he’d still be here two years later and it’s quite possible he wouldn’t have had the luxury of an option if it hadn’t been for them. so, it really feels full-circle, working for them once more for a wedding. plus, any excuse to get into a wedding is enough for arlo. he loves this shit— even if it’s helping the bride and her bachelorette party celebrate at a bar a few nights before or casually walking by a beach-front ceremony in the middle of the day, it’s as if these situations reverberate love and he soaks it in like a sponge.

SEBASTIAN KNEW A LOT of the people at the wedding, from the friendships he had built over the small course of time he had been on the small island. he didn’t happen to know the sheridans that well, other than knowing who they were. but it was nice that he was able to attend the wedding of sophie and lisa. bash was always down for celebrating love and light. most of the people on the set were going as well, so it was nice to have so many people that he knew celebrating. he decided to refresh his drink at the bar. he nods to arlo, giving him a friendly smile.

“just more of this margarita please,” he slides the empty glass over to the bar. “yeah, it is but i like romance. slow dancing can be nice if you’re doing it with the right person.”

     ARLO HAS KNOWN the sheridans ever since he came to kaos for the first time. in fact, he had worked on and off at the bella donna hotel when he first got here, before landing a more permanent gig elsewhere. besides his art, which isn’t nearly as lucrative as arlo would hope, arlo has taken a liking to his career in hospitality— he’s rather good at it, too. he loves talking to people and listening, and having been in kaos for close to two years has given him a plethora of suggestions as to where tourists should venture to. nonetheless, he finds himself lending a helping hand at sophie and lisa’s wedding, standing off to the side and running around if needed. now, of course, he’s leaning behind the makeshift bar at the reception, a jar of cocktail cherries in his hand as he slowly stirs it around and watches people slow dance. he notices the other standing not too far from him, doing precisely the same thing: watching. arlo smirks.

impossible. that’s the best way to describe florian tonight as he wanders through the streets of kaos in a drunken stupor. he’s happy. he’s in love. and right now, flo feels as if he’s inside his very own nouvelle vague film. they kiss with the sound of the waves crashing in the sea and the moon shinning as background. this would be the moment in which the credits start to roll. florian pouts as arlo pulls away, already missing their contact. florian can be incredibly needy when he’s drunk so his hand extends to try and touch him and he smiles as soon as arlo takes him back, his arms quickly wrapping around the other’s waist. he gives him a quick peck on the lips. and his smile grows bigger. 

it is very likely that florian will be a complaining hangover mess in the morning. but for now, he’s all smiles, little kisses and sweet nothings. he’s the one breaking the space between them this time, if only to get rid of his blazer and his shoes as quickly as possible. “we are in our own romantic movie,” he chuckles, reaching out for arlo’s hand. “and if i wasn’t so drunk, this would be the moment in which i ask you to marry me.” florian chuckles again, moving closer to plant a kiss on the top of arlo’s head. tomorrow, he will definitely be embarrassed. 

     THERE’S THIS SMALL, sick part of arlo that may or may not be enjoying the fact that florian is beyond hungover the morning after the kaos ‘prom.’ he’s not certain how much florian will remember from the night before, specifically towards the end of the night. in short, the pair had walked along the beach for a while until arlo managed to get them home, champagne bottle untouched ( as per his guilty conscience— he knew florian would already be feeling it the next morning and surely, more champagne wouldn’t lessen the blow ) and suits just a tiny bit wet and sandy. he’s surprised florian has let himself sleep in for this long: long enough for arlo to crawl out of bed to make him some coffee.

very slowly, arlo opens the door to florian’s bedroom, careful not to let the door creak too much but it does anyway while he pushes it with his foot. a cringe settles onto his features— his hands are full with a cup of coffee in one hand and a small plate with a croissant and a few grapes he found in a fruit basket in the kitchen ( was it for display? he’s not certain but he tried one and they tasted damn good ). once the door is open completely, arlo slips inside and notices florian awake. “bonjour, mon amour,” he laughs lightly. arlo sets the cup down to close the door quietly, then walks to the bed and sets the makeshift breakfast down on the nightstand next to florian. he steps back and cocks his head to the side while he studies him. a hand reaches out and he very carefully holds florian’s chin.

          MAGNOLIA WATCHES ARLO WALK BACK TO HER JACUZZI, reveling in the tingle of the hot water on her skin. there’s a giddiness in her chest that can only be caused by alcohol, and a beaming grin on her face so wide it makes her squint her eyes shut. ❝ you’re so cute. as if i need yours. ❞ she opens her doe eyes and takes the drink from arlo, letting them widen almost comically as he starts to pester her. ❝ oh my god, can you relax, please ?? ❞ the brunette quips, before handing the mimosa back to the male and tossing her hair behind her shoulder. only the tips were wet — magnolia tried to keep her luxurious mane away from chlorine as much as possible. a tiny giggle bubbles out of her chest before she can help it, her eyes darting to the side as she starts to take a long sip of her mimosa. when she’s done, she locks eyes with him again, the alcohol bringing out her most mischievous side. ❝ …you would not BELIEVE what he’s like in bed…just saying. ❞