Faceprint
one,
Boys don't normally sit around at home watching videos made of themselves when they were younger unless their grandmothers are visiting from across the country= or tapes are being played at a funeral. But i suppose Giovanni did quite a few things others boys his age did not do. First of all, most boys did not call themselves GIa.
But let's start off on a better note.
It was hot. Bodies were piled into the building like thick sardines in a can- all still alive and most definitely unwilling. The music and the movement that followed with it made it seem like the room was pulsating, breathing. It felt like the whole room was /breathing/. It was unholy, really, to even consider such a thing- but when had that ever stopped him? He had never been one to follow morale, though he’d tried. Some people just didn’t fit the mold for some things, now did they? No, they didn’t. “Gia” was one of them. The clubs were packed with people just like him. People who would dance and drink their nights away, and away, and away until they couldn’t remember nights at all anymore. People who didn’t mind if they wouldn’t make it to school or anywhere at all other than their beds with the shades pulled so tightly shut that not even the slightest bit of light could seep through. He liked it that way. Here, people didn’t think. They just… did.
Bright eyes scanned over the people as a whole- but singled those out that caught his eye. It was like shopping. You glanced at the racks and looked for the designs that made you look. The ones that demanded your attention. No one looked at the mousy brown sweaters in the corner that was a size too large for the mold. To be seen, you had to be more than the girl standing next to you. It had only taken a moment or so for his eyes to land on the boy. He was so beautiful- standing at the bar amongst the throng of people- so oblivious to all the pairs of eyes looking in his direction. Gia bit his bottom lip, running fingers through the platinum blonde hair quickly – checking to make sure it hadn’t been mussed too horribly just yet. He wanted to look good. It was always nerve-wracking, approaching someone from across a room. Moving through the crowd wasn’t too terribly easy; and if you had a destination it was almost always obvious to everyone around you. But then again… maybe he enjoyed the attention. If someone saw you knew what you were doing, it intimidated them. You had the upper hand, because you were the one with the plan. It was in your hands, and your decision as to whether or not you were going to speak to that one, or /that/ one.
Gia knew it- and used it to his advantage. The thin boy had slipped through the crowd in a fashion subtle enough to not look too terribly cocky- but not as if he was roaming around aimlessly like some of the other crack whores around here. God, that brunette hitting up on the poor boy looked like she had some sort of disease on her face. Didn’t she own a mirror? Always narcissistic, always critiquing. When he had been younger, he had always sized up girl’s outfits as they walked by. He’d grade the styles and textures over and over; and when he’d mention something to his mother should would always give him an odd face, as if to say he shouldn’t have just said that. Little boys didn’t normally enjoy clothing…did they? He stopped biting his lip. He was almost there.
Pressing a soft smile through his soft, pink lips- he sighed. “Oh, excuse me darling, I think I have something to speak to this boy about.” Gia winked at the disease faced brunette, and slipped in between the two with ease. He smiled, eyes slipping over the other male. “You know, I don’t think your mother would be happy to see you talking to strangers at this time of night.”
Mr.Beautiful grinned, craning an eyebrow up to look at him in consideration. Gia crossed his fingers behind his back that he wouldn’t notice, almost praying in his head. “But then wouldn’t I be in trouble for speaking with you?” Gia’s heart fluttered with pleasure, as it did every time someone managed not to see past his face. His mask.
“I don’t plan on being a stranger for too long.”
But let's start off on a better note.
It was hot. Bodies were piled into the building like thick sardines in a can- all still alive and most definitely unwilling. The music and the movement that followed with it made it seem like the room was pulsating, breathing. It felt like the whole room was /breathing/. It was unholy, really, to even consider such a thing- but when had that ever stopped him? He had never been one to follow morale, though he’d tried. Some people just didn’t fit the mold for some things, now did they? No, they didn’t. “Gia” was one of them. The clubs were packed with people just like him. People who would dance and drink their nights away, and away, and away until they couldn’t remember nights at all anymore. People who didn’t mind if they wouldn’t make it to school or anywhere at all other than their beds with the shades pulled so tightly shut that not even the slightest bit of light could seep through. He liked it that way. Here, people didn’t think. They just… did.
Bright eyes scanned over the people as a whole- but singled those out that caught his eye. It was like shopping. You glanced at the racks and looked for the designs that made you look. The ones that demanded your attention. No one looked at the mousy brown sweaters in the corner that was a size too large for the mold. To be seen, you had to be more than the girl standing next to you. It had only taken a moment or so for his eyes to land on the boy. He was so beautiful- standing at the bar amongst the throng of people- so oblivious to all the pairs of eyes looking in his direction. Gia bit his bottom lip, running fingers through the platinum blonde hair quickly – checking to make sure it hadn’t been mussed too horribly just yet. He wanted to look good. It was always nerve-wracking, approaching someone from across a room. Moving through the crowd wasn’t too terribly easy; and if you had a destination it was almost always obvious to everyone around you. But then again… maybe he enjoyed the attention. If someone saw you knew what you were doing, it intimidated them. You had the upper hand, because you were the one with the plan. It was in your hands, and your decision as to whether or not you were going to speak to that one, or /that/ one.
Gia knew it- and used it to his advantage. The thin boy had slipped through the crowd in a fashion subtle enough to not look too terribly cocky- but not as if he was roaming around aimlessly like some of the other crack whores around here. God, that brunette hitting up on the poor boy looked like she had some sort of disease on her face. Didn’t she own a mirror? Always narcissistic, always critiquing. When he had been younger, he had always sized up girl’s outfits as they walked by. He’d grade the styles and textures over and over; and when he’d mention something to his mother should would always give him an odd face, as if to say he shouldn’t have just said that. Little boys didn’t normally enjoy clothing…did they? He stopped biting his lip. He was almost there.
Pressing a soft smile through his soft, pink lips- he sighed. “Oh, excuse me darling, I think I have something to speak to this boy about.” Gia winked at the disease faced brunette, and slipped in between the two with ease. He smiled, eyes slipping over the other male. “You know, I don’t think your mother would be happy to see you talking to strangers at this time of night.”
Mr.Beautiful grinned, craning an eyebrow up to look at him in consideration. Gia crossed his fingers behind his back that he wouldn’t notice, almost praying in his head. “But then wouldn’t I be in trouble for speaking with you?” Gia’s heart fluttered with pleasure, as it did every time someone managed not to see past his face. His mask.
“I don’t plan on being a stranger for too long.”
♠ ♠ ♠
GIA.
NIKITA.