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David Shaw

"Dancing is surprisingly easier with less clothes on."

0 · 815 views · located in Chicago

a character in “Hale's House of Boys”, as played by GreenPegg

Description

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filertextAh we can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance
Well they're no friends of mine.

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      NAMEX David Jun Shaw
      ALIASX Duke
      OCCUPATIONX Dancer at Hale's House of Boys
      AGEX 25
      ETHNICITYX Chinese
      SEXUALITYX Heterosexual


      EYE COLORX Dark Brown
      HAIR COLORX Black
      HEIGHTX 5'11
      WEIGHTX 166 lbs



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WORDSWORDSWORDS♦♢♦♢♦ I keep dancing on my own. Image
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PERSONALITY

David is as driven as they come. He's worked long and hard to get where he is and this is how he behaves with everything in his life. This type of success over time would make most people arrogant, but David is surprisingly humble and introverted for his profession. Preferring subtly over flamboyance, he can often be found in his free time by himself working out, writing new music, or working on things to improve his routine.

His focus however doesn't mean he's a stick in the mud all the time. Quite the opposite, actually. David feels like he missed out on all his wild years when he was younger and is trying to make up for lost time in a way. He is likely the guy you'd find at the bar singing Karaoke arm in arm with a total stranger he met twelve minutes ago. This likability and more so his understanding of people's basic wants and needs helps him greatly on stage, as he can read crowds and perform as needed for the maximum effect on the crowd. He craves the thrill of live performance and although he does enjoy doing his rounds in the Lounge, he will always be a showman at heart.

That's not to say David doesn't have his negative traits. Although he is as kind, caring, and morally upright as a person in his line of work can be, he feels a distance between himself and everyone around him. This may stem from his lack of intimate relationships in his life, but there is definitely a hole in the young man that he seeks to fill with anything that will fit (sex, creative endeavors, relationships with his fellow boys and repeat clients, etc.). He never however seeks to talk about or really address these feelings with anyone, only really confiding in his mother and some of the other boys at Hales and even then some of these are due to be being intoxicated. His martyrdom over his life has mostly gone over his head as he sees himself as less important to the people around him.

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WORDSWORDSImage Image♦♢♦♢♦ I just wanna see you dance in slow motion.
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xxLIKES
♦ Dancing ♦ Parties ♦ Women ♦ Music ♦ Mints ♦ His mom ♦ Wrestling ♦ Bananas





xxDISLIKES
♢ Feeling Unfulfilled ♢ Needless Aggression ♢ Glitter ♢ Bats ♢ Short Tempered People ♢ Sleeping In ♢ Coffee ♢ Sandals
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WORDWORS♦♢♦♢♦ I'm dancing with my loneliness again. Image Image Image
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QUIRKS | HABITS

♦ Drumming with his fingers ♢ Whistling ♦ ♢ Ambidextrous, but mostly uses his right hand ♦ Stutters when surprised ♢ Picks at the edges of his nails when he's in deep thought ♦ Doesn't like sandwich crust ♢ Prefers eye contact when talking to someone

TALENTS | STRENGTHS

Dance ;David has an innate talent for the art and has trained professionally for three years now.
Charisma ; More so his natural reliability, David can get along with most anyone.
Music ; He's always had an ear for it, and while he can really only play keyboard/piano, he has mixed a good number of songs for his act.
Organization ; When you want to get as much done as David does, you have to be able to pull your resources and time together efficiently.


FLAWS | WEAKNESSES

Emotional Distance ; His lack of openness and feeling his problems are a burden to other people leave him distant to others.
Relationships ; David has never had a real, long term romantic relationship before. This tends to give him difficulty when it comes to going on dates outside of work.
Naivety ; David truly believes that people are inherently good, even though he has met many people who prove him wrong.
Boredom ; The only time the emptiness ever really sets in for David is when he's not doing anything. When he doesn't have some form of project he's working on, he can't help but slip into that mindset.

FEARS

Thanatophobia ; Fear of death.
Monophobia ; Fear of being alone without a support system
Anklyophobia ; Fear of joint immobility (better known as paralysis).


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WORDWORSImage Image Play the music low. ♦♢♦♢♦
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ImageHISTORY

David's parents were simple people. His father worked for a construction company and his mother was an Art teacher. They migrated to the US from China with each other while David's mother was still pregnant, not wanting the life they had, one filled with poverty and cramped accommodations, for their soon to be son. So, when David was born, his parents did everything in their power to give him everything they could. They signed him up for school and gave him nice clothes to wear, but all in all, David was an awkward kid. Lanky and not knowing much about social interaction since his parents barely spoke English and were new to the country, he often blended into the background of his classes. The only time he stood out was at the school dances, where his natural synchronization to the music and rhythm made him a surprisingly decent dancer.

This went on for many years and he was mostly content to just float about the surface of his own life, until it happened; his father was diagnosed ALS. The doctors gave him a time frame of two years and Mr. Shaw did everything he could with his know teenage son while he still could move about. Eventually however, he did pass away, and although David and his mother were scarred horribly by the experience, David realized that he needed to be the man of the house now and support his aging mother. So, he began to work night shifts as a janitor at his father's old construction office and attended school during the day. This was of course draining on him, but he did manage to graduate and keep the life together his parents had gone so far to cultivate.

After high school, the young man was at a crossroads. Not having many friends and not really wanting to continue his education, under the advise of his mother, he used the little bit of money he had saved on the years to go to Florida to find himself. There, he bumped into an old friend who reminded him of his love for dance and convinced him to try some classes while he was in town. His first class was when Gabe found him. The older man approached David and offered him a job at his strip club. David of course was hesitant at first, but when it came out that his old friend worked there as the DJ, he decided to give it a try. David still doesn't know whether his old friend set him up or not. All he knew was once those bright lights hit him and the music started to swell, he felt like he was finally the center of attention. Finally important.

He went on doing this for years, making more money than ever before and still supporting his mother from Miami. It wasn't until he was seen by Oliver Hale himself that things got really interesting. He was given an offer he couldn't refuse; go farther then he ever had before for more money than he'd ever know what to do with and set up his mom and hone his craft at the same time. The choice was an easy one to make and while the sex took some getting used to, he's enjoyed his life as one of Hale House's boys for the past two years.

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WORDWORS♦♢♦♢♦ Darling, save the last dance for me. Image Image Image
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OTHER

FACE CLAIM ; Harry Shum Jr.
PLAYED BY ; GreenPegg
CS CREATED BY ; Verix

So begins...

David Shaw's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Max Evans Character Portrait: Samuel Jordan Foxworthy Character Portrait: Valentine Cervantes Character Portrait: Dalton Leigh Character Portrait: Emrys Von Nacht Character Portrait: David Shaw
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#, as written by Asilian
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Emrys's eyes shifted over the others as they entered the room. Val had apparently already been there, but had not been seen due to his rummaging through the fridge, triumphantly producing a bottle of vodka that was mostly gone, from what Em could tell. He exhaled through his nose quietly. Sometimes he thought he lived with a bunch of second graders.

Or perhaps, he thought, witnessing Max trying to actually climb Valentine in an attempt to retrieve the alcohol, I live with a group of chimpanzees. He allowed himself a small smile. He himself may not have understood it, but he understood Val's frustration well enough, and in his own way, was slightly amused by it.

He listened halfheartedly to the conversations flitting about the room, seeing as none of them pertained to him. Being the newest member of the household, none of the others really knew what to say to him, seeing as he was a man of few words. Although, that hadn't stopped some of them from trying. Max, in particular, seemed to be making a quite honest effort to talk to him, though Emrys rarely had anything to say. He was grateful to the Hale's, of course, who had given him a proper roof over his head. He'd been living in an abandoned wood shed when Debbie had found him. He just didn't talk much by nature.



Well, living was putting it kindly. He'd somehow managed to get on the wrong side of a group of thugs, and been chained up there for a week with no food, and only rain as water. Luckily the little shack had been rather leaky. When the door had opened, Emrys had assumed it was the thugs again, presumably to finish him off. He'd been surprised to see a woman. The woman in question, Debbie Hale, had been shopping, when she had noticed a German Shepard standing guard outside the shack. Thinking it odd, she'd gone over to investigate, finding it even more odd when the dog started pawing at the door. She saw somewhere around six or seven dead squirrels and rabbits by the door, presumably from the dog. The door was bolted, and she pulled it open, revealing a naked, shivering Emrys Von Nacht, chained to a pole inside the otherwise empty shack.

"Hello. You wouldn't happen to have any food, would you? I'm assuming that you aren't one of my--" Whatever he'd been about to call her had been cut off by the dog, who'd leapt at him, licking his face furiously and whining. Debbie Hale had noticed that the dog was in similar shape as Emrys. The reason Emrys had been thrown in there was because the dog in question, had been abused by said gang, and Em had sought to free it. He'd gotten caught, and the rest was mostly history.



Emrys, turning the memory over in his mid, suddenly got up, deciding to go and see Vixen. When Oliver raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged slightly. "Didn't see Vix yesterday. She's probably mad at me." Offering no other explanation or waiting for a reply, Emrys trudged downstairs and out the backdoor. While Debbie had first protested the dog, she had soon discovered that the Shepard would not be separated from Emrys, and so, had finally agreed to chaining the dog up in the backyard. Emrys took care of her, and in six months, she was as healthy and playful as he was. Or at least, as a German Shepard.

She jumped and yelped at the sight of him, nipping at his fingers playfully. He gave her a good pat, refilling her food and water. For a second, out in the dark, with no one else around, Emrys smiled. It was the closest thing to a true smile he knew how to create, and it only came out around Vixen. He stood up, stretching. He supposed he should head back in. Checking his watch, he knew there were only five minutes before the start of the shift.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Max Evans Character Portrait: Valentine Cervantes Character Portrait: Dalton Leigh Character Portrait: Emrys Von Nacht Character Portrait: David Shaw
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People usually tried their best to get close to Dalton. They tried with friendly conversations, flirty compliments or small talk, but after realizing he wasn't interested, they gave up pretty quickly. Not Max though.

Ever since Dalton arrived at the Hale's House of Boys, Max had been all over him (which wasn't uncharacteristic of him) and had tried countless of times to play with his shiny new toy a.k.a. Dalton. He couldn't say he was completely annoyed at the guy, he truly appreciated the effort Max put into getting to know him and trying to peel off Dalton's many layers of protection. A guy like Max was exactly what the boy needed to get a little bit out of his comfort zone, especially with how sexually confident Max could be.

True, Dalton usually got quite uncomfortable when around Max and his dirty little deeds, but inside he enjoyed the playful flirting both could manage without Dalton completely outing his sexuality. It was a stupid way for him to release the bottled-up sexual desire he had for boys but couldn't come around to accept.

Right now it was no different. As soon as Max noticed Dalton's presence, he called for the boy by wagging his fingers in his direction. Reluctantly, Dalton pried himself off the wall and walked towards the blonde. When he got close enough, Max pulled him over between his legs, back to chest, draping an arm over one of his shoulders and resting his chin on the other. He pulled his lollipop out of his mouth with his free hand so he could answer the question Dalton had asked a few seconds ago. "Yup. He took me to a basketball game yesterday. I didn't really think it would be my thing, but let me tell you, I am totally here for muscled up, sweaty guys playing with balls."

Dalton could only chuckle and roll his eyes at that, pretending not to care. He was about to talk back but found himself distracted by Emrys walking out of the shadows and settling himself close to the boys and by Val's sudden appearance in the kitchen. He smirked at Max and Val's arguing, enjoying the show of witty comebacks both were putting up to brighten up the mood before work.

He got a little lost in their conversation but found himself brought back to reality by Max's voice saying "10 bucks says we can convince Spencer to call him that in bed." At that, Dalton couldn't help but laugh out loud. He watched as Max pleaded Val for some liquor, dragging himself off Dalton and moving to attack his prey.

After both boys struggling to get a hold of the vodka, Val releases it and hands it over to Max, who takes a shot, and then to David, who Dalton hadn't noticed entered the room earlier.

He approached the boys and silently took he alcohol from them, also swinging the bottle to his lips and letting the liquid burn the back of his throat. He could feel Oliver's eyes staring at the back of his neck, "I've created a breed of alcoholic monsters," the boss exclaimed, sounding slightly defeated.

"Social lubricant,"
Dalton exclaimed, raising the bottle above his head, repeating David's synonym for their beloved liquor.

Oliver only shook his head and looked at his wristwatch, "All right, it's show time boys, time to get downstairs. And leave the alcohol here, please," he announced, "now go, go, go, before Debbie finds out you've been drinking pre-game."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Max Evans Character Portrait: Samuel Jordan Foxworthy Character Portrait: Valentine Cervantes Character Portrait: Dalton Leigh Character Portrait: Emrys Von Nacht Character Portrait: David Shaw
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#, as written by J.D.
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"ya, ya, whatever. Jordan I'll slip you a cup in secret if you want - " He really badly wants to say yes, for lack of better judgment. However, the idea of indulging in public makes his stomach queasy.

He can swallow his vices in privacy, no need for a show of it, especially in front of his employer. 'Daddy Warbucks' isn't exactly his issue; that moniker would much better suit Spencer. But he also isn't not the issue.

"I'm ok." He says, fingers abruptly halting all movement. He's suddenly aware of just how loudly he had been tapping. A mild sweat slicks his palms, which he proceeds to slip into his pockets. The urge to continue drumming making his hands itchy, but theres nothing he can do about that.

What neither of them seemed to realize is that Jordan would be the one answering to Debbie for indulging in any sort of underage drinking while on the premises. She didn't take lightly to him extorting the rules before, when he had been a new fish testing the waters and had made that abundantly clear from the get go - however Jordan didn't take it as her exerting authority so much as her being worried for his safety while on the job; which he understands loud and clear despite lacking the ability to practice whats being preached to him. It all sounded better in theory, compared to reality.

He's glad when Val's attention drifts away from him, because then he can pretend that nothing was offered in the first place. Luckily, Max keeps him busy damn near till Ollie calls time.

Jordan remembers being more surprised by these sorts of antics in his early days, but now they fade into the background, normalizing behaviors that would have never passed outside of these walls.

He almost fooled himself into thinking it would stay quiet and calm until things got started, but little did he realize that the cacophony that followed Max and Val like a stray dog fed table scraps would be as ever present today as any other. Jordan merely observed. He had never had that sort of ... friendship (if one could call it that,) with someone before and therefor had no idea how the interactions even occurred. The natural way they moved from simple bickering to fighting.

The first time he had witnessed this had been almost terrifying in a way - he hadn't known at the time that this was just a thing they did. Not until the second and third times it happened. After that, well, things in the house had become a lot clearer. Everyone has their niche here. Jordan just hasn't quite found his, though not for lack of trying.

"now go, go, go, before Debbie finds out you've been drinking pre-game." He hadn't realized he had been spaced out until Ollie spoke. For a few seconds Jordan lingers, gazing longingly at the bottle in Daltons hands but didn't dare bother going for it. He could have, but the fear of disappointing got the better of him. The ingrained panic that arose every time he thought about the repercussions of not doing his best. Old punishments still there in his mind, he tried to tune out the roaring memories.

Jordan leaves the penthouse hastily, throwing a small, shy smile at the others without prompting as he went. Still too word shy to be as chatty or, as excitable as them. He supposes in time he'll build up his words, the year had shown him the ropes and day by day things got better. Eventually, he'll be capable of speaking more than a few sniping sentences at a time. But at that moment he focused more on the night ahead of him.

He had places to go and people to fuck.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Max Evans Character Portrait: Samuel Jordan Foxworthy Character Portrait: Greyson Ross Character Portrait: Valentine Cervantes Character Portrait: Dalton Leigh Character Portrait: Isaac Lisiewicz
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#, as written by Ivisbo
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"Swore I was going to be someone
And growing up everyone always does
We sell our dreams and our potential
To escape through that buzz"


Brick walls, neon lights, trash filled alleyways and grimy streets. Expensive SUV’s parked next to broken down tagged up Toyotas. Women on street corners waiting for middle aged men in luxury vehicles and thugs smoking on beat up porch steps. It had been almost three years since he’d been here and nothing had change much. Chicago was still a city mixed with everything and nothing, neighborhoods of people that spent their lives in repetition and kept themselves sane with dreams of better ones. He grew up in the shit, one of those pockets of Chicago’s south side that had been forgotten by the law enforcement of the city. One thing about Grey’s life up till now was that it was everything or nothing. His parents- with their fathomless intensity, his childhood- gloriously normal until it wasn’t, his city- walled up riches against the ruins of the slums.

He’d had it fucking amazing for a while. Young and naive about how the industry worked, just thought he could sell his shit and focus on making the most money for himself. Worked the system; made the most bang-for-his-buck, kept a little on the side for himself. Learned the hard way that if you aren’t careful in this world, shit can go sideways real fast. But he still needed that 'more'. Still needed to be on top and have everything he wanted as soon as he wanted it. Drugs not only brought him money, the brought him power. The ecstasy of control over others, a control that he craved in himself.

ImageImageWhen he left Hales three years ago, he’d been a piss poor example of himself. Skin and bones and sweat cause he’d struggled for so long against his own needs and strung out from the relief of deciding that sobriety wasn’t for him. The anticipation of that first non-guilty high, the relief of the white powder flushing through his system was enough for him to realize he was not going back. No fucking way, not even if they tried draggin’ him. Thing is- in their world- people went missin’ often. Grey’s disappearance was probably chalked up to another fucked up druggie with no hope of redemption. Dead or might as well be.

No one came lookin', so Grey let himself fall back into his old life easily.

He’d only been gone for a year, but last time he’d been in the drug business he’d fucked up most of his relationships. Old boss wouldn't be wanting him back and the rest had heard of young Greyson Ross stealin' money from a drug lord at 18. He struggled for the first few months, over did it more then he had before, got wrapped up in syringes and razor blades and glass pipes. Binging on addiction after a year of trying to be something he wasn't... he'd given it a shot for those people that cared, but when it came down to it he wasn't built for that. Inherited a fucked up head that needed the drugs to function. They made his ever changing conscious securely high, which was a constant that he could feel sure of.

Grey's personality was kinetic, so it really didn't take long for him to find purchase in a new drug ring. New boss, new suppliers, people that were aware of his earlier fuck ups. One thing he learned at Hales was how to turn pleasure into currency- whiles Hale's business strategy was focused on a certain type of pleasure, Grey didn't have a hard time applying his knowledge to selling. People were attracted to him, not just his muscles and tattoos and piercing eyes, but his alluring depth of danger. He looked like a predator, or at least something to be treated with trepidation. Humans always seemed to be most attracted to danger, there was a reason the carnivores at the zoo always got the largest crowds... and is personality coupled with the product made making a name for himself again a breeze. Grey knew drugs and he knew people, he could sense shifts in temperaments almost like they were his own. Maybe that was because his own emotions varied so wildly, or because he'd grown up monitoring his dad. Either way , it was easy for him to be pulling in over 400k a year and moving up the ranks to higher pharmaceuticals deals, higher grade cocaine and meth, and wealthier clients.

But that same issue remained- Grey would always need more.

ImageIt was almost dawn when the cab dropped him off in front of the tall blank wall of brick, a single door illuminated by a neon open sign. Three years and nothing had changed, apart from his reasons for showing back up. While Hales was once a sanctuary for him, now it was more an investment... place was filled with the lowlifes he sold to, people he hadn't made connections with, and potential new dealers. Why not meld his business with the lucrative world of Hales pleasures? There wasn't anything that mixed together better then sex and drugs.

Grey let a long drag of smoke filter out with the heat of his breath, clouding in front of the neon lights and making them hazily slid in and out of focus. His pupils filled up the majority of his light blue eyes, his mind running a million times faster then the world around him. Fast was good, fast kept things moving and excelling and getting exactly what he wanted. He had a duffel in hand filled minimally with a few stacks of cash, some clothes, and a couple bundles of coke. His apartment was still filled with all his shit, but Hales had that sweet penthouse and Grey couldn't turn down the apartment full of potential investments.

He remembered the front door security, barely. Grey'd never been that into making connections last time, apart from the few that had weaseled there way into his day-to-day life. He stopped and stared at the dark haired man, unsure if he was recognizable from three years ago or not. Grey really didn't care if he was known still, but by the way Tito lifted an arched brow at him made him think he was. Three years had hardened his face, his already sculpted jawline more defined and harsh brow even more intense. Light blue eyes with massive pupils, a mouth constantly set in a sarcastic smirk. Since he'd been here his tattoos had grown, no longer just covering his arms but reaching up over his neck and filling the full expanse of his chest, stomach and back.

"About to close up Mate, but go on in" Tito looked amused, like Grey's appearance was some kind of inside joke. Probably just excited for something different prowling through the doors.

ImageThe lounge hadn't changed since he'd been there. Different underage bartenders, new dancers, but the decor and darkly lit lounge had remained unchanged. He dumped his bag at the bar and ordered himself a vodka straight up, tossed a twenty as tip, and barely gave the bartender a second glance. Dallas stared a little longer then normal, probably trying to place him, but Grey back towards the room before he could make the connection.

He found Val immediately, chatting up some bleach blonde haired kid. Nothing surprising there, seemed the guy was destined to fill the hallowed halls of Hale's for the rest of his life. Grey let his eyes roam over his old friend, taking a long sip of his vodka as he eye fucked the other male. He had a thing for the messy looking 'I haven't showered in a few days' look ever since he worked here, and he was sure it was just cause he needed a little more of Valentine Cervantes in his life. Guy had been a thorn in his side his entire year at Hales, but Grey'd found himself missing the nagging trashcan of a human. His eyes moved to find that other familiar face he was sure had stuck around, not finding that giddy ball of saturated ecstasy present. Maybe Max had moved on, though Grey had a hard time picturing him anywhere else but here.

As much as he wanted to saunter up to Val and grab a fistful of that messy 'freshly fucked' hair, Grey stayed back. He was slightly wary of Oliver and Spencer, but even more wary of the Queen Bitch. He'd never gotten along with Debbie from the start and he was sure as hell not going to get along with her now, not after he took off for that glorious life of dealing and using.

Movement from the staircase caught his attention as Max descended, looking almost exactly the same as he had a few years ago. Thicker, more bulk, matured beyond that slight teenage ganglyness he'd had, but still that bundle of crazed movement and pure giddiness that made him so memorable. Grey stared at him, licking his lips as a small smirk spread across his face. He raised a brow as he caught the blue eyed mans gaze and raised his glass in greeting, tucking back the remainder of the vodka as the shit of coming back began.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Max Evans Character Portrait: Samuel Jordan Foxworthy Character Portrait: Greyson Ross Character Portrait: Valentine Cervantes Character Portrait: Dalton Leigh Character Portrait: Isaac Lisiewicz
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"You haven't lost your mind."

Max supposed he should be relieved over the fact that he hadn’t drifted into having shockingly realistic visual hallucinations, but that wasn’t exactly what he’d call this feeling. Val’s dismissal meant Grey was actually there. Maybe Max wasn’t going crazy, but he was sure there was plenty of other stuff about to come his way that would rock his loose grip on sanity.

Val’s anger is so thick it’s almost a corporeal being and Max feels smothered by it but also safe in a twisted sort of way. Enough so that when Val goes to detangle from him, fear at being left alone grips his chest. He’s a toddler with separation anxiety that’s being forced to act like a big kid and he is not a fan.

Val says something to Jordan but Max can’t hear it. The words, the music, the chatter is all spinning into nothingness and he’s pretty sure he’s standing just on the edges of a panic attack. He hasn’t had one since he was a tween and it pisses him off that one guy can send him reeling like this.

Val gets up but he holds a hand back to Max probably subconsciously and the blonde clings to his arm like it’s his lifeline as he somehow makes it to his feet and shuffles to keep up. Across the lounge, back to the bar, back to the same spot he just ran away from. Grey gives a lazy smile to whatever greeting Val opens with and Sunday mornings. Late night car rides home. The pillow next to his.

Max is well aware he’s hiding. He’s just enough smaller than Val to keep out of sight behind him, a literal human shield. He can see over him just barely if he stands on his tiptoes, but he doesn’t want to. He wants this all to go away.

“Came back to check on old friends, wanted to make sure you guys survived without me.” Survived. Max wasn’t sure if that was what he’d call his Post-Grey era. The man’s complete and unexpected disappearance had done a real number on his psyche. Max had never handled death well. There’d been many nights spent in Grey’s bed until the scent had faded, many more spent in Val’s - either from a rare moment the older man caved to Max’s neediness, or a good, old fashioned, frustrated fuck. It’d been the only time during his life that he’d missed the drugs of his teenage years. The only time he’d been put on probation at work. He felt things too deeply. It’d been a problem.

Until eventually Val made him snap the fuck out of it and move on. ”He’s gone, Max. He’s not coming back.”

Yet here he was.

More than anything though, Grey speaking rocked Max back, because his voice snapped the audible world back into clarity. He tightened his hold on Val a little, wondered why he didn’t feel just as pissed. He didn’t know what he was feeling though. Surprise? Interest? He was just ...conflicted. Like he couldn’t decide if he was hurt or happy.

Old friends.

That didn’t feel good, and he cringed.

Grey was alive.

He was also a dick for doing what he’d done. And not the good kind of dick. An old, shriveled up, small, gray, too-hairy, disproportioned dick.

”Maybe I’m not here for you?” No, Max thinks, don’t do it, but Grey’s hand gestures towards him anyway. “Alright back there, Max? Thought you’d at least be happy to see me”

Max’s I am gets stuck in his throat and he remembers what it felt like that morning. Tumbling into Grey’s room, still hungover, with a smile on his face and a plan for greasy bacon and probably a blowjob. Only to find it empty. And the next morning, and the next, and the next.

No. This hurts, this definitely hurts. Grey disappeared without a trace. No letters, no phone calls, nothing. For three fucking years. How could he? Max grips Val tighter, like the man is the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces. Literally and figuratively. Because it feels like if he steps away from Val, he’ll forget everything. And that the only thing that will matter is that Grey’s alive.

“I thought you were dead.” His voice shakes and it’s only then that he realizes how close he is to fucking crying. Grey leans forward, but Val is like a brick wall between them, and Max has never been so damn thankful for Valentine Cervantes in his whole life.

“Really think I’d go off and do something stupid like dying? Nah, I just got bored, wanted to try something new”.

Bored. There was the anger finally, snapping up at him the way he saw it do Isaac all the time, but just before he could burst Grey’s smile was like cold water dumping over his head. 0-100 real fast, but Max faltered. “Missed you though.”

No one ever missed Max. He was like that annoying kid brother that people claimed to love but not ‘like’. The one that sent their older siblings running for college without a look back.The kind that moms posted about in secret groups online, questioning their decision to have more than one child. He knew this. He was aware of this. He shouldn’t let Grey make him feel special because it simply wasn’t true. ”- so I came back for my job. I seem to remember Oliver saying Hale’s had an open door policy if we ever wanted back in” That was true. That was true and it made him feel sick. “And you can lay off. No drugs, I promise. I’m clean. Figured it out all on my own”

Max tilted his head up towards Val, but unsurprisingly the brunette wasn’t buying a word of this, which reminded him that he didn’t need to be either. Bullshit. It was all bullshit. And Open-Door Policy or no, there was absolutely no way the Hale’s would let Grey back in. No way.

As if the universe had a sense of humor, Oliver Hale flew down those same stairs Max himself had appeared on just moments ago. His eyes were wide and worried and then he just... Barreled into Grey’s arms. Like a father seeing his druggie son for the first time in years. Which, undoubtedly, Ollie saw himself as. He was the caretaker for all the wayward boys. He loved them.

He loved Grey.

Max tore his eyes from the little reunion because he couldn’t bare to watch it. Instead he glanced at the bar, and wondered for the first time where the fuck Debbie was. Then he seemed to remember the time. She was out front, helping too-drunk men into their cabs. For the first time she wasn’t arms length away, and he blamed her a little for whatever was about to happen. Because they needed her, here and now.

Grey laughed.

Max closed his eyes tightly against the memories and buried his face into Val’s back. He couldn’t deal with this. Why had he come back tonight? Why hadn’t he stayed with Sebastian for just one more day?

”you are always welcome to use the guest room till we figure it out. I’ll vouch for you for now”. Max looks up again out of shock because seriously? At this point he was surprised he wasn’t fucking floating because it seemed like the world had dropped out from under him for good.

He’s too shocked to say anything but Val isn’t, and he’s nodding along until Oliver turns around. They so rarely get scolded, beyond the slight slap on the wrist for their fighting, but Oliver’s face then is enough to shut Val up and make Max want to take a step back again. He doesn’t even have to say anything and Max feels like he’s in trouble.

He didn’t fucking do anything wrong! He feels angry and scattered and betrayed. And as Oliver leaves, Max’s heart sinks.

He wants to run, which isn’t something he’s felt since he was fourteen and itchy to get out from under his grandparents and his therapy bills. He wants to push himself until he can’t go any farther and then pass out and not have to deal with anything ever again.

Val’s saddled with getting Grey the room and Max shakes his head a little, because Val’s either going to kill him or fuck him, and either are probably an option right until the winning blow is upon him. No matter how much Max wants to drown himself in a bathtub full of vodka, he can’t make himself leave. He’s rooted in his spot next to Val, and silently he slides his hand down to tangle their fingers together again. He’s not letting go until Val cuts him off at the goddamn wrist.

His sanity is on a string.

“Come on,” he mutters softly, giving Val a tug. He can see Oliver sending the other boys upstairs. Dalton, Isaac, David. The bartenders and security will stay, clean up. Where’s Em? Still in the rent rooms maybe? Jordan...

Max turns towards the Lounge doorway, and there’s the blonde, undoubtedly the source of Oliver’s oh so perfect appearance. Traitor Max thinks, but it’s not like Jordan knew any better.

Walking out feels a little like walking into hell.

And he’s not sure if he’s excited or afraid.