Arms still laced around the nape of the young actor’s neck, a boyish grin was quick to present itself on the couturier’s features, lips lipstick clad and gaze piercing, captivated under the red light of the Moulin Rouge. It had been an act of boredom —- mostly; his hands left to run through thick curls all the while teenage curiosity thickened. The significant amount of alcohol lingering on the handsome stranger’s breath almost sickening, turning his little conquest into one all too easy feat.
Blaine’s tongue raced after the new flavor lingering on his lips. The anise of his drink mixed with lipstick and someone else was more intoxicating than the practically glowing green liquid coursing through his veins that landed him in a peculiar situation. Not that he was complaining. Not even slightly. After the music faded and the crowds dispersed, he’d found himself strewn out over a pile of discarded costumes behind a stage he had no idea he was still behind. A voice like an angel woke him up, gravity shifted as he was pulled upright with a groan. The prettiest pair of blue eyes met his and lured him into their depths so quickly that when their mouths crashed together after he felt like he’d spent an eternity staring into them silent and awestruck, Blaine hadn’t even let his own hazel eyes close. Then it was over and his heart was racing, breath in sharp clips that barely worked and his mind swimming from the nerve it’d taken him to just fall off the ledge of holding back…
Embarrassed laughter and an averted gaze later, Blaine stuttered, “S-Sorry. You’re right. I should,” in agreement. Before he made an even bigger fool of himself. If possible.
Christian couldn’t help the small rise of color in his cheeks when Blaine said this, cracking a small smile as he looked away bashfully. He then sighed and lowered his arms so he was looking at the mirror once more. He supposed he did look… rather pleasant on the eyes. The red of the vest mixed with the simple black and white of the rest of his ensemble stood out quite nicely. It had a bit of a poetic touch, he had to admit.
He stood slowly, looking around for his hat and placing it precariously on his head, pursing his lips as a determined little frown creased his brows.
“Well, I did promise you all I would help. I don’t go back on my promises.” Christian turned to look at Blaine and the rest of the Bohemians, smiling wide now as an air of confidence made him stand a little straighter. “Let’s go, shall we?”
“You are a good person. Thank you. For everything.” Reaching his hand up to palm over his smile, Blaine watched the boost of confidence blanket itself over Christian’s nerves and silently praised whoever was listening that their only hope felt better about the situation. Not that there wasn’t a backup plan already in the works.
“Ah? Not quite yet.. First they are going to want to–.” If he knew his friends, at any second there would be someone shouting–!! And (like clockwork!) there it was. Toulouse-Lautrec’s unmistakable voice shouting, ‘Absinthe!’ Followed by cacophony of cheers that nearly drowned out the last syllable. The bohemians never left home without drowning themselves in it.
Blaine only drank every now and then (tonight he figured one of them might need to keep a clearer head–maybe just a tiny bit) but his friends? They wasted no time gathering Christian up and introducing him to their precious muse in all her glory before they set out bound, determined, and filled to the brim with the hope of a bunch of starry-eyed, liquored up dreamers.
Christian made a soft noise in the back of his throat, nerves painfully obvious by how he fiddled with the brim of his hat. He shuffled over to the chair where the vest lay and eyed the piece of fabric like it had insulted his mother before picking it up and slipping it on.
He took one look at himself in the mirror and groaned, head falling back. “I look absolutely ridiculous!” he cried, slumping down in the chair that had previously held the vest he currently wore. “This is going to be a disaster.” It was muttered, his arms thrown up and covering his face so his voice was muffled.
“Satine will take one look at me and laugh me all the way out the door!”
Behind Blaine three other pairs of eyes were pleading with baited breath and hands formed in prayer for Christian to take the plunge and put it on. For all their sake! For the sake of their art and all their hard work. Blaine stood closest, chewing his bottom lip like a parent watching if their child was going to spit out their first taste of real food or not. Would he do it?
Please, please, please?! YES! Victory!
He had to hand it to the writer. His dramatic collapsing onto a chair act was truly a work of superbly encaptured flair. Christian looked too miserable to point that out, so he let it go and approached him. Blaine’s expression was one of complete sympathy and desperate warm pleading comfort. “One night. One chance. You’re handsome as ever, Christian.” Bending at the waist, careful fingers gave his cheeks a pinch then a gentle pat soothed the touch away before he stood back up and grinned. “She’s going to love you. I promise.”
Startled, he almost dropped the hat he was holding in hand.
“There’s nothing wrong with it! It just doesn’t… Suit me..” Blue eyes cast a glance towards the red vest laying on one of the chairs, waiting to be put on. “A-And besides, it’s a- a pitch for a show! Not some r-romantic d-date.”
Christian chuckled nervously before adding, “the fact that the pitch is being brought to a-.. a b-beautiful woman doesn’t count.” He was way over his head.
Blaine fumbled to catch the hat but Christian managed to hang onto it and saved the day! There was no way they could afford to replace it. Considering it was a prop for said show they were pitching tonight? Crushing it on the floor would have been a disaster.
Christian was right. The entire costume suit screamed everything that they were against but! “Necessary evil, Christian! Think of it as fitting in just so we can stand out in the long run??”
His arm jutted out, hand gesturing towards the entire ensemble they were forcing him to wear just to have their voices heard. He was their only hope! “They won’t give you a second glace without it. Come on? You can do this! We’ll..um..be there? Just, you know, in the background!”
pianokeysandbowties back up 