“I swear I’m not in love with you, I just can’t afford a two-bedroom apartment.” // oxo // CLOSED

Chris smiled as he watched Alex walk back out in his fancy uniform, but after realizing his minor gawking probably wasn’t normal, he cleared his throat and adverted his eyes.
“Should be here,” he mumbled, his words trailing off as he walked over to one of his bags. A white label with ‘Things?’ scrawled across it in blue marker was prominent on the side, and it was clear that even Chris didn’t really know what was packed here. Thus the inquiring question mark.
“Ah— here we go,” he said, triumphantly holding up a box of lights. They had both a rainbow and plain white light switch, as well as individual colors, and they looked more stylish than regular Christmas lights. Slightly more girly, but his sister was young and they were a gift, so he wanted them up anyway.
He looked over to Alex, still holding up the box. “Any ideas? It comes with tacks.”

“Those are amazing,” Chris breathed with a grin. “And you’re related to this person? That’s… so rad.”
He gave a nod, already beginning to open the box of lights. He stood upright from crouching, begininning to untangle the wires.
“And totally, we can put the lights up with the paintings,” he continued. “That’ll look awesome.”
He paused for a moment, smiling to himself. He felt like such an adult, here, interior decorating with a roommate. It was odd, but also quite enjoyable.

Chris had walked over and began to stand on the couch as Alex talked. He took a bit of the lights and a tack, trying to position it above the painting. When the other boy brought up the flag, Chris nearly dropped the tack.
He glanced back, cocking his head to the side.
“Yeah?” he asked, arm still outstretched to the wall. “If you’re going to ask me if I’m… against that… then absolutely not. You’re totally good by me, man.”

Chris gave a sort of hollow solemn nod, turning back to the lights and hanging the rest. He took the switch on the wire, flipping through the colors and which one would best compliment the sunset. He finally decided on a light orange, giving the room a warm glow.
“Uh— yeah, okay,” he replied, although he didn’t turn around to speak. “No worries.”
Why did he feel bad about this? It’s not like he liked guys, right? … Right?
He shook his head, trying to push the thought aside.

“Th-thanks,” Chris replied, hopping down from the couch and turning back to look at his work. “And sure, you can start heading over. I can meet you there— or, I can go get ready quickly and walk over with you? I mean it’s up to you.”

He glanced down at his watch, quickly skipping up to grab his bags. There was a suit-shaped bag hanging on a hanger draped across one of his boxes. He gave a small smile to Alex as he passed, going into the bathroom and hastily changing into the formal wear. He slipped on the black dress pants and glossed shoes, buttoning his white collared shirt and slipping on the suit coat. He tied the tie with… a bit of trouble, but more than he’d like to admit. He fixed his hair quickly in the mirror before exiting, the blonde strands falling slightly the second he stepped out.
“Alright,” he said, slipping his keys on the coffee table. He put his phone back into his pocket, looking up to Alex expectantly. “Ready when you are.”

“Alright, then,” Chris began, walking through the door and locking it afterward. He slipped the key in his pocket with his wallet, looking back up to Alex. “After you.”

Chris walked alongside the other boy, his step holding a light skip— he was in decent spirits.
“Since I was… oh, gosh,” he began, stopping for a moment to think. “Twelve? So that’s like… what, 7 years?”

Chris let out a fake gasp, putting a hand over his heart. “No way.”
“That is pure—“ he lifted his hand, kissing his fingertips, “—talent.”
He brought his hand back down, shoving it in his pocket and stifling a slight laugh.

“Like… nine? I think?” he mumbled, raising an eyebrow. “I start at seven, though. Only a couple hours I’m playing so it’s not that bad.”
He fixed his suit jacket, buttoning the front slightly and slipping in his colorful tie. The blue in the pattern brought out his eyes, and complemented his skin perfectly. Or at least, that’s what his dad had told him when they picked it out.
He glanced down to his watch, then back up again at the street. Couple more blocks and they’d be there, he guessed.

“You have a key,” Chris said stiffly. “I did give you the key, right? Gosh did I leave it on the table…”
He mumbled to himself, irritatedly looking down.

“Yeah— wouldn’t be that bad. If anything, I’d just keep playing ‘til someone kicked me out,” Chris replied, glancing from Alex to the surrounding buildings. The sun‘s descent shone brightly on the glass panels, giving the area a soft, warm, orange reflection.
“And if not, I’ll just let you in— I didn’t mean it to sound like an inconvenience, I just thought I gave you a key,” he continued. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Looks like you’ll be busy this shift,” Chris said light-heartedly, although he wasn’t too keen on the idea of having a large audience. Despite his confident demeanor, he had just the smallest bit of stage fright.
He pushed the door open, allowing Alex to enter before him. Chris followed close behind, stepping into the dim light of the restaurant.

Chris’s eyes wandered the place, looking for the piano. His eyes rested on a small baby grand pushed over into a corner. The room was… small, but that mean the acoustics would be better. For him, at least.
His eyes wandered back to Alex when the boy mentioned his name, and he held out a hand for Wyatt.
“Hey, nice to meet you,” he said with a friendly smile.

Chris raised an eyebrow, but his smile stayed. Wyatt did seem pretty cool, and if he was anything like Alex, Chris didn’t see any reason why the two wouldn’t get along.
He gave a small wave as the two walked off.
“See ya,” he replied, turning to find whoever might be in charge. As he continued toward the piano, he saw a man standing before it.
“Chris,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too, sir,” Chris replied.
“Well, go ahead— take a seat,” the man ushered. “Thanks for coming and playing for us. See you at nine, yeah?”
“Alright, sir. Thank you,” Chris said, watching as the man walked off.
Slowly, the boy began fiddling with the keys. It was surely a new piano— with its glossy black exterior and shimmering ivory keys. It was a delight to play, and Chris had barely even done so.
With a crescendo, Chris drew his hand down the keys, then softly shifted into the main melody. It sounded exactly like a slowed down, classical version of Open Arms by Journey. Of course, Chris would be the one to play some classic rock song at a professional venue, but it sounded good, so no one complained.