dearestparis-blog

[dearestparis-blog]

What do you believe in?

“That’s a rather broad question, isn’t it? I could talk about my religion based on Queen Elizabeth II. I could talk about how I believe in the small pleasures of life like a person’s smile or how some food is so good that you can’t help but groan a little once you have a taste. I could talk about how I believe in people not ideas and how I could be willing to follow a person to the ends of the earth for as long as I believe in them. I could talk about a lot. A person has a lot to believe in after all.”

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Do you miss London?

“Of course. It’s my home. I have family and friends there that I’ll never be able to have here. I’m a businessman. I’m always going to have fits of homesickness but I find that it’s best to remember where you’re from. I’m from London and no matter where I go, I’ll be from London.”

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Thoughts on Verona thus far?

“It’s been an interesting experience. I’ve definitely made some friends, reconnected with old ones, and met people that I don’t think I’d like to socialize much with after. The city itself is absolutely breathtaking and the people in it are drastically different from London. I honestly wouldn’t mind staying longer here.”

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“Travelling for work never really is. Especially for business trips that involve your future.”

“I take it the trip wasn’t exactly relaxing then?”

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“My father restricted what I watched on the telly. I mostly kept to shows like Doctor Who, Top Gear, and the like. So sorry? Not exactly well versed in secondary school shows.”

“Well, lucky you then. Have you ever watched a show about hi-…secondary school?”

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The corner of Paris’s lips tipped up at Tybalt’s words as he took the tip of the bottle from Tybalt’s fingers. Tipping the bottle back, he took a nice gulp. “Quiet? From what I’ve heard, it’s been the opposite of quiet.” He tipped his head in the slightest, his eyes falling to the bedspread. It seemed like it was a rarity for Tybalt to come into Paris’s room, usually the other way around in most cases. But now, with the man on the other side of his bed and a couple bottles of alcohol between them, he supposed he could get used to this. At least this way they escaped the judging eyes of Pawkeye and Neil Catrick Harris. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have brought it up.” He shrugged, looking down at the space between them. He was meant to be Tybalt’s friend, to be the mediator in these situations. Not hoping to sink back into the bed and melt there.

Even if his words were staged, Tybalt couldn’t help but smile. The day’s events had shadowed him, and his decision not to run away and instead  to seek out a friend in Paris proved to be one of his better ideas. Even if the man couldn’t fix the hole he had stuck himself with, he gave him the tools to help; the laughter, the company, those damn eyes of his. “I suppose I missed you, too.” He admitted, no dramatic move to follow, “but only a little. It was too quiet without you.” Apart from the constant arguing between Capulets, of course; but that was nothing new. He watched as the man reached out for his bottle and looking slightly puzzled, Tybalt pushed the tip into his hand.

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“Yeah, yeah, you brought alcohol. I didn’t want to scare you off before I even get a sip.” Paris could feel the bed dip where Tybalt sat, easily matching his smile as Tybalt drunk from one of the bottles. “Standard business trip. Boring, long, and made me wish I was back in this bed sleeping,” he shrugged before reaching out to take a sip from the bottle Tybalt held. “Oh, I missed you more than I could fathom!” He put the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically, unable to resist a laugh.

“Good boy,” Tybalt smiled, nice and wide, “You’ve learned.” The simplest things, like Paris turning the TV off, meant more to Tybalt than he could ever know. Placing his own bottle on one of the side tables, he fell against the bed, crossing his legs in comfort. “How was the trip?” He asked, now learning to grab the bottle to drink from. “Miss me?”

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“It was a last minute business matter and I had to go. I’m sorry but one second, I was sleeping in Verona and the next, I was on a plane back to London.”

“If I missed nothing, why does it seem like the Capulets want to slaughter each other?”

“Well welcome back to you Mr. I’m-not-gonna-tell-my-best-friend-when-I-skip-town. I found out from twitter that you were back in London. TWIT-TER.”

“You missed nothing. I think. I don’t really know what counts as drama.”

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“That’s actually very accurate. And then everyone talks to you like you’re supposed to be following the movie but you don’t know what to say.”

“Neither do I. It’s like… watching a movie with no sound and no understanding of the plot.”

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“What? My family is from there. I’m from there. It’s my mother country?”

“The mother country? The fact that you call it the mother country is more of a scandal than anything I’ve heard recently, to be totally objective.”

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“I guess I just forgot about how crazy Verona can get. Gotta love it, I suppose?”

“Welcome to Verona. Drama is everywhere. I learned that on day one.” 

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Paris looked over to the doorway from where he lay, watching reruns of Downton Abbey. “It’s good to be back. And before you start complaining...” he grinned, switching the television off and leaning up on the bed. Was it ridiculous how just the sight of Tybalt made him smile? “I see you brought me some ‘welcome home’ presents,” he reached out happily before patting the spot on the bed next to him.

dearestparis

Carrying a bottle in each hand, Tybalt pushed the weight of his back against the door to Paris’ room, opening it without the aid of knocking. “Welcome home, loser.“ 

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“Oh? Well, you wouldn’t be the only one. I’m not sure of a majority of the drama that happens in London anymore. Uhh.. someone was murdered. The weather is acting up again,” he came up with general news in London off the top of his head, a smile in the corner of his lips. “Someone saw the Queen-- okay, that is big news actually.”

“ I mean I wouldn’t say it exploded with drama, I actually don’t know much of any drama. Maybe I am a hermit in my own city.”

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“Ah, yes, of course. We can’t have the people of Verona being bored now, can we? Now that would be a big problème.”

“Gotta keep the masses entertained, don’t we? People live for drama, it gives them a certain raison d'etre.”

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“High school? What is-- Oh, secondary school, right. I never really went to secondary school? I was homeschooled until I went to Cambridge so I’m afraid I’m not sure how dramatic secondary school is supposed to be.”

“Verona is always dramatic. It’s like you never left high school.”

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“It’s hard not to worry about when you’re eating dinner with two people who are glaring at each other from across the table, not speaking. The entire house has gone tense.”

“It’s less of an explosion and more of a pot of water. Stare at it and nothing happens, look away a second and the whole thing boils over. Bottom line, don’t worry about it, not a lot of us understand either.”