The minute he makes the offer, Eliot wonders what the fuck he’s doing here. He’s not quite sure what he intends, other than it seemed like a normal, helpful thing to do for a friend, and that’s what he wants to be for Jack. Still, the thought of Jack with another man—one who’s friendly and unobjectionable and free to express his feelings—makes him feel a little sick.
So he’s grateful for Jack’s question about New York, since it pulls his mind back to more certain ground. Eliot smiles thoughtfully, and spends a moment in comfortable quiet as they walk.
“There were a few,” he says, and looks at Jack, a bit hesitant. “The thing is, you have to understand, I wasn’t…at my best when I lived there.” Eliot glances up at the trees whose shadows dapple the sidewalk. “I enjoyed it immensely but I was also just…drunk and dissolute and my memories of that time are all sensation and no meaning. I know it won’t be the same as my New York, but I want to see it sober, to see if the city really is as vibrant as I felt it was, then.”
“The art is amazing,” Eliot adds. Of that he’s certain. “The sculpture halls of the metropolitan museum were always so nice to walk through, and there’s a garden on the roof of the building that has a restaurant and fantastic views. Wonderful place for brunch.”
He catches Jack looking at him as he waxes poetic about the food from all over the world, the little old shops hidden away like treasure that you can only seem to find by wandering without an objective. And it’s good to talk about it, and be listened to. Escaping Darrow might be a pipe dream for all Eliot knows, but it’s still nice to think about taking Jack to see the sights.
“And there’s the clothes, of course,” Eliot says, as they reach his building. “If I want anything really nice here I have to order it online, which of course is just further proof that there’s a world beyond the barrier, but the thing is it’s not the same as actually going and looking at a piece in person and being able to touch it and try it on. To say nothing of being able to go to a real tailor and have something made bespoke. You’d love the garment district.”
Eliot’s dimly aware that he’s babbling to cover the bit of anxiety he feels at having Jack back at his place. But it’s different now, he reminds himself. There’s sun coming in through the windows, and if there’s tension in the air it’s nothing like the other night.
In fact, it feels more like the first outing they ever went on, taking Jack to get modern clothes. His motives were jumbled then, too, a tangle of curiosity and some fucked-up idea of patronage and pushing his luck to see what this man was about. Somehow, despite how overbearing he was, Jack didn’t mind his friendship. Perhaps that’s what he’s trying to reaffirm today.
He carefully avoids looking at his bed, when he starts rummaging in the closet for shirts that might strike the right tone. “One benefit of ordering things sight unseen,” he gives Jack a little laugh, “I have ended up with a few pieces that might be more your style than mine.”
no subject
So he’s grateful for Jack’s question about New York, since it pulls his mind back to more certain ground. Eliot smiles thoughtfully, and spends a moment in comfortable quiet as they walk.
“There were a few,” he says, and looks at Jack, a bit hesitant. “The thing is, you have to understand, I wasn’t…at my best when I lived there.” Eliot glances up at the trees whose shadows dapple the sidewalk. “I enjoyed it immensely but I was also just…drunk and dissolute and my memories of that time are all sensation and no meaning. I know it won’t be the same as my New York, but I want to see it sober, to see if the city really is as vibrant as I felt it was, then.”
“The art is amazing,” Eliot adds. Of that he’s certain. “The sculpture halls of the metropolitan museum were always so nice to walk through, and there’s a garden on the roof of the building that has a restaurant and fantastic views. Wonderful place for brunch.”
He catches Jack looking at him as he waxes poetic about the food from all over the world, the little old shops hidden away like treasure that you can only seem to find by wandering without an objective. And it’s good to talk about it, and be listened to. Escaping Darrow might be a pipe dream for all Eliot knows, but it’s still nice to think about taking Jack to see the sights.
“And there’s the clothes, of course,” Eliot says, as they reach his building. “If I want anything really nice here I have to order it online, which of course is just further proof that there’s a world beyond the barrier, but the thing is it’s not the same as actually going and looking at a piece in person and being able to touch it and try it on. To say nothing of being able to go to a real tailor and have something made bespoke. You’d love the garment district.”
Eliot’s dimly aware that he’s babbling to cover the bit of anxiety he feels at having Jack back at his place. But it’s different now, he reminds himself. There’s sun coming in through the windows, and if there’s tension in the air it’s nothing like the other night.
In fact, it feels more like the first outing they ever went on, taking Jack to get modern clothes. His motives were jumbled then, too, a tangle of curiosity and some fucked-up idea of patronage and pushing his luck to see what this man was about. Somehow, despite how overbearing he was, Jack didn’t mind his friendship. Perhaps that’s what he’s trying to reaffirm today.
He carefully avoids looking at his bed, when he starts rummaging in the closet for shirts that might strike the right tone.
“One benefit of ordering things sight unseen,” he gives Jack a little laugh, “I have ended up with a few pieces that might be more your style than mine.”