... good life ... [[mathis]]

[DORIAN EARL GRAY]

Dorian had wandered a little through the nightly town ... taking in the crisp moist air, little clouds escaping his lips with every solemn exhale. His shoes strutting past the wet, reflective sidewalk mirroring faint schemes of the neon signs on the street sides. Like every night in the big city it wasn't quiet ... streets were filled with cars - music muffled from inside them - and pedestrian on both side of the road. Everyone indulging in their own business but somehow oddly connected. It was what Beau loved about New York, no matter what, you always had this spirit of connection. It may seem absurd but he had not yet been to any place in this world where people were so eager to help others - people they didn't know - than in good ol' NYC. Of course by that he was referring to the Zip codes that did not end on '$'. Those elite little neighborhoods with those pretentious people high up in their ivory towers. Looking down on everyone else. He loathed them and everything associated with it.

Okay, maybe 'loathing' was a strong word, Dorian didn't have that much passion for the upper 50.000! He just liked to point out there flaws now and then and he didn't particular enjoy the socializing they did on events such as the Met-Ball or the Fashion's Night Out. That was possibly the reason why the people he was close with at school could be squeezed into a Beetle ... it was mostly the scholarship kids he felt closer to even not being one of them. He was in a weird place really, because actually by 90% of those brats at Roosevelt's he was poor! Well maybe not him but his upbringing. Sure he had come to some money through his work but refused to invest it into a car, upper eastside crib or fancy trips ... he got everywhere beautiful on customer pay anyways for photo-shoots. It was a good life, truly and despite sometimes forgetting the thankful notion Dori was deeply grateful for it. As sappy or strange as it sound, he was actually grateful for being blessed with good looks ... soooo helpful in more ways than one. Despite the fact he thought himself to look like some scrawny Irish hooligan with MAYBE some nice big eyes society seemed to take a liking to it. So the only logical response was to exploit that very fact.

Turning another corner, already having strolled as far as Queens, Beau already saw the big crowd before th place he had been looking for. The map thingy on his phone truly came in handy sometimes since uptight artsy garage sales - or what the rich and beautiful called a 'vernisage' - were not really present on his radar. Sure he had friends who were low key artists doing this and that in the boroughs on the main-land but none of them handed out Moêt aside little appetizers when they opened their tiny backstreet atelier doors. No, there was a communal bowl of chips and some soda cans ... which was exactly up his alley! Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his wide and visibly vintage dress pants Dorian strolled down the opposite sidewalk slowly, frowning at the girls in glitter and the guys in satin. It was a world he was very much used to but not really a part of it. They weren't only separated by this cobbles tone street with sinkholes as big as a melon ... no there was much more, mainly a question of morals and priorities he supposed.

Knowing that somewhere in there was a guy he would not necessarily count to the platinum pack blocking the emergency exits with their Armani tailored racks Dorian stopped at a car parked by the roadside far between to streetlights ... where it was the darkest. He sat back on the hood watching the show unfold ... Broadway was really nothing compared to just sitting there and watching the top nob's flattering each other into accepting their flaws and shortcomings. It was like first row at the peacock habitat ... so pretentious. Now all he really could do was wait a bit ... Beau didn't mind. He may not have known when exactly Mathis was going to come out but he could wait. The boy from Savannah may not have wanted to be a part of this evening right there but that didn't mean his pal from school couldn't be a part of his very own idea of a great night out! Though the tall boy didn't have any idea of where to go yet there were about a dozen things he knew that were going off in his neighborhood that he could see himself and Mathis be a part of.

[MATHIS HENRI MOREAU]

Mathis stood in the gallery, watching as each person went by with their glasses of champagne and the women with their sparkling jewellery and the men with their 'trophy wife' or 'girlfriend on the side' on their arms. There were no doubt all rich and wealthy. Of course, that was to be expected.Any gallery opening should need many potential buyers of the art pieces on show. One could only hope that one or a few of the visitors that evening might take a liking to one or more of the paintings and decide to buy it for a ridiculous sum of money, making the whole affair beneficial to both parties. One would gain a lovely painting to brag about when they brought guests over to the house while the other was then well paid for said painting. It was really a nice arrangement.

Mathis of course was more a fan of sculptures and of course, he had no where to put them at the moment unless they were immediately shipped to France and the boy simply did not feel it was worth the effort. So instead, he stood and continued to watch the crowds, This was not all that interesting. Valerie had been nice and he had spent a while talking to her but they soon drifted off to examine the art pieces that were here. He knew she would be mingling and meeting new people but that was something Mathis could not do so well.

He had always been the quiet observer, letting people come to him if they chose to and of course he ha allowed for a few conversations to take place that night that were with complete strangers. They were all women and the conversation inevitable shifted to what he did for a living or what his parents did. He told them with a sense of disinterest and watched their eyes spark up with dollar signs while calculating his worth against whatever man they happened to come with.

He didn't care to talk about it but still the subject was pushed. It was not Mathis' work. His family had build the empire through several generations and he felt he had played no part in it. Of course, this was true. Mathis was not yet involved in the company but he knew he might be in the future. He knew it would be him or his sister or the twins but it would fall on him first, simply because he was the oldest.

It wasn't his work though and so he tried to change the subject moving it to the other person in that conversation and when that failed, moving it to something he could say was his. His work helping various causes, the things that could be done but the women soon lost interest. As though charity work was directly proportionate to available funds.

Finally managing to say good bye to his friends, Mathis decided it would be better to leave early. He looked nice that night, with a well fitting classy suit. It wasn't too expensive for a suit with a brand name and it was understated and simple while looking good on him. Stepping outside, Mathis pulled on the tie, loosening it before unbuttoning the very top button. Pulling at it, Mathis immediately felt better. Walking down the steps, he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up just enough to tear away that serious look and giving him a more comfortable image without looking too messy or grungy. Pulling off his jacket, Mathis rolled up his sleeves a little. The slight chill in the air and the new atmosphere was a nice change. All in all, the quick transformation had done wonders for him.

Walking down to the bottom of the steps, Mathis pulled out his cigarette and lighter before he noticed a figure in the distance. Tilting his head to one side as he focused on it, Mathis took a definitive step forward, followed by another and then another. He was heading slowly toward the figure even though he knew that walking willingly toward a stranger in a dark corner was never a good idea. Something about that figure looked familiar. Maybe it was the stance he took or something about his behaviour. Whatever it was, was leading Mathis right too him.

Recognising the figure, Mathis smiled, still holding his cigarette and lighter but not lighting it yet. "What are you doing 'ere, mon cher?" he asked, in a friendly tone, happy to see Dorian, despite not expecting it. He looked good, but then he always did in Mathis' opinion.

outfit, without the facial hair

[DORIAN EARL GRAY]

Watching the people on the other side of the street indulge in their trivial conversation about trust funds and tax deductibles Dorian found himself wrapped in the comfortable coat of night. Secluded from the stares and pokes of people, those who recognized him and those who were just generally nosy. It wasn't like he was a major celebrity ... he didn't consider himself to be at least ... but his face did get recognized. Much more easily than his name though, sadly, that was a thing that bugged him mildly. That Dorian Early Gray - not that his name was anything to brag about - was only renown for the shape of his butt or the big Disney eyes. Of course he didn't expect the industry to see him as any more than an attractive coat rack or a nude figure to endorse a perfume or some body care products. But being approached on occasion by people saying they've seen him towering over Times Square in his knickers or cuddling up to Eva Mendez was not really those moments the 18-year old cherished the most. Then he'd rather think back on the actual CK photo-shoot with half naked Eva Mendez!

All the while sitting here, pondering on the people around, his situation as a whole ... Dori had to think of Mathis. The guy he affectionately titled 'mon puce' ... which translated meant something along the lines of 'my flea' which didn't sound that cute. But from his work in Paris Beau had gotten to understand it was a very heart-felt French lovers' name. Even though the southern boy wouldn't attribute that much thought or emotion to it as it was probably meant for he found it to be well suited for Matty. Because in a way the French hotty was cute and jumpy like a little flea. Plus Dorian was never one for the whole 'darling' & 'mon chere' or any other pretentious cutesy names. He also didn't mind Mathis calling him that ... it was okay or ... whatever, didn't phase him. He was just happy about the casual friendship they had ... and the whole name calling in French added a nice and funny tint to it. Plus it was an opportunity to appear more educated than he actually was ... Roosevelt hadn't been able to teach the model much so far.

Tapping his hands between his spread out legs, dangling from the side of the hood, Dorian followed a nice Jazz tune he had heard on the radio just about before he left the apartment. There was this little radio station over in Staton Island that only broadcasted for a few hours a day but always the finest selection of underdog, unpopular blues and jazz known - or not known - to men. And just when the tall man was about to get his cell out and try to find the right frequency the crowd parted and a handsome boy in dark blue vest got spat out onto the sidewalk like a cold fish from some fancy 2nd course. A smirk placed on Dori's face as he realized the pretty face, with the long hair falling loosely over his ears ... it was Mathis, who he hoped would come out of that Moloch of aristocracy sooner or later. Preferably before it snowed or Beau froze to death, he only realized now he was a bit under dressed for the climatic conditions. But once his friend came closer - so the boy on the car hood hoped - he'd get warmer in a mutual effort.

"I don't know really ..." Dorian replied chuckling boyishly after he had raised one hand casually for a waved 'hello'. His eyes prized away from the baby blues before him glancing downward at the unlit drag in the Frenchman's hand. Nodding at it the model smiled sunnily. "You mind borrowing me one?!" he asked charming. He may have been against drugs but a smoke was okay, after all it only took a few years of not sucking any ash for the lungs to completely clean out again ... which was much less than you could say for any other drugs. Still never did Dorian buy a pack of those ... he usually just bummed one when he felt like it, thinking that actually owning a few would only lead to smoking them up all to quickly. Which was the reason why he didn't own any condoms ... to keep his sex drive in check by his caution and common sense. Since he was 16 he'd seen enough good people in the fashion industry consumed by death or at least lined with it ... through stupidity and carelessness ... it left a deep mark in the young man's mind, deep enough so he'd never have any sex without protection.

[MATHIS HENRI MOREAU]

Knowing now that this was not some stranger, Mattie casually placed his jacket on the hood of the car to get it out of the way. It was quite cold but not quite as cold as some of the patrons of the gallery that night. Mattie was truly glad to be away from that crowd. It was not a place he liked to be alone, or at least without being around family or very close friends. There was CeeCee of course but she was mingling and he didn’t want to get in the way of that so after a quick good bye, he had left.

Some might think it ridiculous for him to be standing out there with sleeves folded up and jacket not on him but Mattie like it. The cold made him feel.. a little more alive at that moment. The cold prickling sensation on his skin was a nice way to distract him but now that Dorian was here, he was certain he might find a much better distraction in the younger guy.

He smiled and looked down at the ground for a second when Dorian claimed to not know why he was here. Mattie could only guess that he had been out and just randomly ended up here, the one place where he knew Mattie would be… It was an interesting coincidence but he didn’t want to think too thoroughly about that one for fear of reading a little too much into it.

Mattie knew this was casual and as much as he wanted more, it was not the time for there. They were still getting to know each other and Mattie had always liked to give these things enough time to work themselves out on their own, let it run its own course so to speak. There was no point in trying to lead it in any direction at this point.

“Of course,” Mattie said, handing the cigarette over before pulling out another for himself. He didn’t often smoke, and he was trying to quit, but knowing Dorian did too was a slight help. Most people didn’t like it and it tended to be something that put them off when it came to dating and relationships. This just made this part a little easier and gave him less to think about which was always nice.

“It iz a nice night to be out, no?” he said, glancing out as he lit the cigarette for Dorian and then himself before taking a quick drag from it and blowing out the smoke in the other direction and he folded one arm across his middle and rested the other elbow on it while he held his cigarette up.

[DORIAN EARL GRAY]

Admittedly? Maybe there had been some subconscious notion that had dragged the boy's tired bones over here after all. Some little spark igniting whenever he was around Mathis that inevitably somehow pulled Dorian toward the light like a moth. The alliteration wasn't even so far off ... the French boy being this gleaming beacon of hope, a better person, some saint from abroad with eyes to make your knees go pudding and Dori the dumb, yet pretty night sky butterfly that couldn't help but wirr around the bulb lighting his way. Yes, it was a rather poetic approach at a rather simple human notion: Attraction. It wasn't like Beau was in love with the boy, nor overly affectionate or idolizing him as some sort of savior figure. That's not what this was but it didn't take a galactic court to rule that Mathis was by far a better person than Dorian and somehow that intrigued the boy from Savannah, Georgia. By being around him, so the tall model hoped, would maybe rub off a little bit of sense. It certainly wouldn't hurt to sand some edge off the boy.

"Thank you ..." Dorian pronounced sounding like an English lord taking the smoke from Mathis with delight. Yes, sure there was the semblance of a common sense inside of him realizing that inhaling some burnt tobacco wasn't the most healthy thing to do but there was something oddly liberating about doing a little bad to one self. Sometimes it was like a redeeming factor for all the bad being dealt from the young man's side. He wasn't a big smoker, more a social one, never sucked a drag alone. Unlike getting drunk in solitude there was no point to clouding up an empty room. But smoking with a friend ... it gave an unintelligible feeling of a mutual effort - doing something together. Leaning slightly forward, cigarette placed casually between his lips, he let Mathis light the end, the little flame illuminating the handsome face for a few seconds ... little shadows dancing around the manly nose. Taking a deep drag, exhaling some smoke clouds from his nostrils Beau sat back up straight moving the gleaming stick to the corner of his mouth James Dean style with his tongue tip. Scratching the back of his head he gazed at his friend.

"It is?!" he asked back dumbfounded. Dorian didn't see why this particular night, with the crisp cold tickling his skin and the surfaces of the cars around getting a sparkling coat of frost, was supposed to be especially nice to be out. However the boy wasn't dumb, he just refused to get into sentiments about why tonight was different ... he probably wasted to much thought on the cause already. "Well, I suppose it is now!" Smiling mischievously Beau brought one hand to his mouth placing the drag in between index and middle finger to pull it away. Letting the last residual smoke leave his throat he leaned in placing said hand on the back of Mathis' neck to get him closer for a tender kiss. Their lips connecting perfectly, not for the first time but the premiere of tonight, this was when Dori knew that tonight had changed into a special night, a 'nice' night. Pulling back slowly, licking his boyish lips he chuckled. Gazing into the unnaturally blue eyes across from him the 18-year old could've just sat there for a while more but sloth already made his limbs tickle again aching to do something crazy.

"What do you say ... let's get outta here? The scent of Chanel No. 5 is making me sick!" Dorian nodded at the bubbly crowd across the street with mocking consent. Somehow around Mathis he didn't want to play his full resentment toward the elite upper class. Dropping from the car hood, placing the smoke back to his lips Beau placed his arm over Mathis' shoulder turning him to stroll down the street back towards Brooklyn. "You'll be surprised of that little underground music scene we got man ... blues like you've never heard it!" Making a gesture before them with his free hand as if to envision the prospect in the air Dorian smiled. He was glad to be able and introduce his French friend into his world a bit ... after all that's what friend did? No?! Let each other in, talk, be there for each other, having fun ... sex. Well, the latter had yet to happen but one thing at a time, Dorian wasn't greedy and things usually had a tendency of falling into place by their own.