(no subject)

[iwasmore]

Noah holds his cellphone in hand, staring at the text. Nice linework, it says, with a photo of the portrait he drew hanging on display. He never figured Freddie would ever actually see the picture. It had been one of several portraits he'd done for class, and his professor had chosen it as the one to put in the student gallery. Noah hadn't invited anyone to come see it. He isn't sure why.

It was easy when I had such a good source of inspiration, he'd sent in reply.

It's been two days, but he hasn't received anything in return. And now he's staring at his phone like if he looks long enough a reply will just appear. Instead of calling-- but Freddie had agreed. Noah had been hurt and it's the only reason he suggested not seeing each other anymore, and Freddie had said okay and left. Noah had been bitter at first, that his friendship wasn't worth enough to even try. That he wasn't worth even an argument, that why, of everyone, couldn't Freddie look past what he was?

But now all he is is confused.

Noah exhales, and in the next breath he's outside Freddie's apartment door. Maybe this is a dumb move, or maybe it's dumber not to do anything at all. So he knocks.

Comments

[iwasmore]

"You're too hard on yourself," Noah says quietly, his voice still carrying that quality of just slightly distracted as he lightly outlines. His mind is also forming a new idea, to have all of his friends come over at some point and paint something on his wall, even if they think they can't draw anything. It could be an amazing mural of all the people he loves.

[thisfaceismine]

Freddie can't honestly remember if anyone's ever said that to him before and he has no idea how to respond.

So he doesn't, frowning quietly instead as he continues making broad marks, bisecting lines here and sharply changing angles, laying down the backbone of a piece that will eventually be filled with color. If he ever gets it that far, that is.

"You drawing a giant penis?" he asks idly after a few moments, leaning back a bit to try and see what Noah's putting on his wall.

[iwasmore]

Freddie's comment comes out of nowhere and startles a laugh out of Noah, causing his hand to slip and draw a jagged line on the wall. "Dammit, Freddie," he explains, laughter still in his voice. He stares at the mark a moment before turning it into a tree branch. "No, I'm not drawing a penis."

"But hey, speaking of dicks, and of ghost powers," he continues, still drawing, "here's a funny thing. Did you know that I can't give or receive STDs?" He grins at the wall. "Let that one turn around in your mind a moment." He also can't get someone pregnant, but that isn't exactly relevant to Freddie. Condoms, though? Might be.

[thisfaceismine]

It's a tree, Freddie notices, as Noah makes the startled mark into a branch, the lines fluid and natural, arcing up along Freddie's wall. Not what he would've elected to put there, but he likes it, he can say that much.

He watches for a moment before he turning his attention back to his own design, eyebrow arching when Noah starts speaking again. "That so?" he asks, glancing over at Noah out the corner of his eye, lips curling into a smirk. Strangely, he finds himself thinking of Philip, of the last time they'd been together when Philip had goaded him into fucking bare. They hadn't then, Freddie far too careful for that kind of thing, but he had been tempted.

Very tempted.

Drawing another sharp line, he asks, "How d'ya know?"

[iwasmore]

Noah had honestly hoped Freddie would sound a little more interested, but maybe it's just exciting for him. That makes sense. Freddie has a lot more experience, he'd had a lot more partners. He probably doesn't care by this point. But even Krem, always so scared of pregnancy, hadn't used a condom with him, and it had been...really good. Embarrassingly, Noah likes it messy, and he's been wanting Freddie to be able to follow through on a few of the filthier things he's said when they've been together.

"Because I'm not alive," he says matter-of-factly, starting to draw a bird. "I can bleed, but it's not real blood. I can come, but it's not real. I can't get sick. I can shit, though, but only if I eat. I don't have to do that, either, but I like it."

[thisfaceismine]

"You like shitting?" Freddie asks, biting a smirk because he knows exactly what Noah had meant.

He falls quiet then, thinking it over as he continues fleshing out the bones of his piece, every angular line breaking into another with seemingly no coherent stopping point. No border.

"Your come felt pretty fucking real," he says after a long moment, once again glancing over at Noah. It's been awhile since they've done anything, largely due to Noah's confession at Halloween, but Freddie remembers it well enough. "Tasted real, too. Not telling me it's, like, ectoplasm, are you?"

[iwasmore]

Noah snorts and smirks. "Shut up," he says lightly, sketching out a face, wings. Birds are a symbol of freedom, something they all lack to a certain extent, here. He thinks it will be something comforting to look at.

He pauses when Freddie continues, frowning at the wall. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, pointing out his differences only shines a spotlight on how weird he is. And, truthfully, he has no idea what his come is made of, or him, beyond energy. All he seems to be doing is making Freddie want to be with him even less.

"I don't know," he says, and tries to think of a way to divert the topic from something he stupidly brought up. He can't think of anything, though.

[thisfaceismine]

Noah's voice goes quiet again, melting into something that's not exactly a sulk, but does succeed in making Freddie feel guilty. He's not sure what he's done this time. He's only curious, unsure of how something that looks, feels, smells, and tastes so real can not be.

So he pushes on, still drawing lines as he asks, "It's not like you've got control of it, is it? I mean, you can't make your come look or taste like something else, can you? You haven't got a choice same as you and me."

He could be wrong, of course. Maybe Noah can do that if he wants. But Freddie has a hunch all the same.

[iwasmore]

"No," Noah says, glancing over his shoulder at Freddie. He just looks at him for a long moment, even though he can't see his face, before turning his attention back to the wall. He doesn't keep drawing on it, though, just yet.

"I just don't want you to think I'm gross," he finally says, his cheeks heating up to admit it.

[thisfaceismine]

Freddie doesn't look away from his own drawing, but he's aware that Noah's stopped for the moment, can hear it in the tone of his voice and lack of movement in his peripheral vision. He frowns a moment later, finally looking over again.

"I don't think you're gross," he says and it feels strange he has to say it at all. "I think you're-- well, I mean it's weird. But it's no weirder than fucking some guy technically old enough to be my grandad or a wizard or whatever. Everyone here is weird. My point is your come is real enough," he says, turning back to his picture once again. "Whatever it's made of, it's come. Same as mine."

[iwasmore]

"...You're fucking a guy old enough to be your granddad?" Noah asks with a tiny smile, secretly relieved that Freddie really doesn't seem to mind that his come might be made of ectoplasm, or whatever. He's just never been with someone outside of Krem, and the one time with Hild, but both of them had known what he was before they'd ever done anything, so he hadn't questioned everything so obsessively as he can't help doing now.

[thisfaceismine]

"Great-grandad, actually," Freddie amends after a moment's further thought. "He's from the 30s or 40s, something like that."

Obviously, the strange time shit means he doesn't look a day over thirty-five, but it's still all a bit weird. About as weird as fucking a ghost boy who looks and feels just like any other ordinary boy. Just... one who can teleport and read minds. And doesn't need to breathe or sleep or eat.

He cocks his head then, lips curving into a faint grin. "Does that make him the weird one or me?"

[iwasmore]

"If he isn't actually eighty or whatever, then neither of you are weird," Noah says with a snort and a smirk, and looks back to the wall. He doesn't lift his pencil to keep drawing just yet, though, wondering at why he's feeling so irked all of a sudden.

[thisfaceismine]

That's true, he knows. And it's not like he and Philip have a difficult time finding things to talk about despite the difference. Though, honestly, it's not as though they spend all that much time talking.

Noah's still just staring at the wall and Freddie frowns a bit. "What?"

[iwasmore]

"Hm?" Noah pauses, and raises his hand to keep drawing. "What what? It's nothing," he says, brushing it off and pushing it down, and starts on a few bird. He feels sorry for himself too much, when all he should feel is grateful for what he has here.

"How's your drawing coming along? Gonna paint it when it's done?"

[thisfaceismine]

Freddie has a feeling it's not nothing, but he's never been one to push. Plus, it feels as though he and Noah just found some minor bit of solid ground again and he's not keen on disrupting that so soon.

So he shrugs as he looks back to his design, drawing in a few more angles. "Maybe," he says, frowning at it. "Or paint over it." Not like it serves any sort of purpose, not like he'd have done this at all without Noah wanting to. It's just to pass the time.

He drops his pencil then to crawl over to his table, grabbing the glass of wine he's left behind and finishing off what's left of it. It's then he sees Noah's piece in full and he stares a moment in appreciation. "Not bad," he says, resting back against the leg of the table. "Maybe I won't paint over yours."

[iwasmore]

Noah turns around to lean against the wall next to where he's been drawing, smiling across the small bit of space to Freddie. He stretches a leg out in front of him to nudge Freddie's foot with his own. "That's super benevolent of you," he says, and grins a moment, but his expression soon turns thoughtful. "Actually, I think this has given me an idea for a school project. Maybe even a community project..." His eyes light up. "You should help me."

[thisfaceismine]

Resting the base of his empty wine glass against his thigh, Freddie arches an eyebrow.

"With a community project?" he replies, nearly a scoff. That sounds dangerously close to volunteering and Freddie hasn't done that willing since... honestly, he can't remember. He did some compulsory volunteering back at school, but that's hardly the same thing. It's not really volunteering when it's forced.

He glances at Noah's picture again, trying to piece together what Noah might be implying. "What, like graffiti?"

[iwasmore]

"Sort of," Noah says slowly, the idea still forming in his head. Darrow is an insular city, but it's large, and there are poorer neighborhoods and areas that could use some care and rejuvenation. Noah doesn't have the money or the know-how to fix them, but maybe he can do something to make them a little brighter.

"More like murals. Maybe painting some houses in the more run down areas. We could fundraise to get money toward it, and maybe some federal money-- is that how that works? Some sort of government assistance."

[thisfaceismine]

"Can you get federal funding when there's no, like... country?" Freddie asks, still frowning a bit. He waves a hand vaguely at the wall, "This is a bit different from painting a house, mate. I just do it when I'm bored."

It's not entirely true, really. He wouldn't say art is really an itch or anything, but he doesn't only pull out a pen and paper when he's got nothing better to do. But it's either this or fuck around on his computer tablet and he likes having something to look at afterward.

But he's also not sure what the purpose of Noah's idea would be, but it's clear Noah's excited by the idea all the same. And the government doesn't give much of a shit about poor people, do they?"

[iwasmore]

"There's a government of some kind. We have a mayor," Noah starts to argue, though if he's honest he really doesn't know a lot about government, at least local. Last he took a class about that was like ten years ago. As for Freddie being blase about contributing, he ignores it.

"Well-- nevermind, I'll look into getting money for it." Noah crawls across the floor and stops in front of Freddie, looking wide-eyed and hopeful. "But if I can, do you want to do it?"

[thisfaceismine]

As Noah crawls closer, Freddie pulls up his leg so both feet are flat on the floor, knees bent. He arches an eyebrow at Noah's deliberately wide, beseeching eyes and, despite himself, finds his lips tugging into a slow smirk.

He considers a moment before cocking his head and shifting to let his legs drop open, loosely cross-legged. "You gonna make it worth my while if I do?"

[iwasmore]

Noah is so weak. He can't help coming a little closer. He can't help resting both hands on Freddie's knees, his smile coquettish and cheeks warm. Stupid, smirking, irresistible Freddie.

"What did you have in mind?" he asks sweetly, playing at innocence.

[thisfaceismine]

Freddie pretends to consider it, pursing his lips around a smirk as he drops his gaze downward and then back up to land on Noah's lips.

"S'pose that depends on how worth it it is to you. How badly do you want my assistance?"

[iwasmore]

Noah bites his lip and toys with the neck of Freddie's shirt, running his fingers back and forth along the hem. "So badly. It's not as fun all on my own," he says, looking up at Freddie through his lashes, his other hand still warm on Freddie's knee.