“ when was the last time you cried ?”
for a moment he fiddles with his thumbs, a little taken aback by the question. crying? when such a wide smile is usually tapered to his face? “i cried after my parents didn’t invite me to their handfasting vow renewal a few months back.” still clearly a sore spot from the way his brows knit together, folding back in the chair as if the more he collapses into the soft fabric, the less this is all real. particularly when his head is spinning from the alcohol. “like, i get it, i guess. they thought i’d be busy and they’ve never really approved of me moving to new york and working for a big film company to begin with,” he trails off, gnawing on his bottom lip in thought before adding in explanation, “… they think i’m selling my soul to corporate just by working where i do. ‘those production companies are where creativity goes to die in favour of profit, heath!’ as my mom always said.” he smiles momentarily, slightly pained. “my brother, rowan, sent the pictures over the next day. none of them even reached out before like… they knew. they all did and yet… you know, i never really subscribed to the whole ‘parents have a favourite child even if they don’t tell you’ thing. but maybe that’s because i was for so long that the whole thing kinda just…” he sighs defeatedly. “anyway. i’m getting another beer, fuck.”
