Saint's plan was to shopping. He needed new clothes, and the lad was becoming comfortable with the cross-dressing.
He stepped into the living room, walking over to Perth, who was watching American Horror Story. He'd arrived that morning to talk to Saint about scheduling auditions for the club and was now going to go shopping with Saint.
The small lad stood in front of Perth, crossing his hands behind his back.
"I'm ready to go."
Perth's eyes traveled up to Saint's before examining Saint's outfit: a maroon, lace flower print sweater, white jeans that hugged his thighs, and black flats. His cheeks were dusted with blush, but that's all the makeup he wore, for Saint knew he was pretty enough without makeup, even if he wore it on stage.
"You look... Beautiful," Perth spoke, reaching out to grab Saint's hands and pull the bloke between his legs.
"Thank you," Saint whispered. He let out a gasp as Perth stood up with their bodies pressed tightly together. Perth freed one of his hands, using it to cup Saint's cheek, moving down to the tan skin of his neck, down his clothed arm, lacing their hands back together.
Perth opened his mouth and Saint was praying to any existing god that Perth would say those three words, the three he wants to say himself, because it feels so right to him.
To Saint's disappointment, Perth's pretty mouth only let out a shaky sigh before closing, along with his eyes, and he leaned down to press his forehead to Saint's.
They stood like that before Perth spoke. "I want to tell you about myself."
Saint knew about Perth- how he preferred coffee to tea, how he was rough and demanding in bed with a touch as light as a feather, how he preferred music to movies, how he didn't have a religion or a family, how he liked to eat healthy- Saint knew little things.
He also knew that Perth meant tell him- talk to him about his personal life. His problems and what happened with his family.
Saint nodded, letting Perth sit down and pull Saint to straddle his lap, but it wasn't inappropriate. It was comforting.
"I suppose it all started when my dad died," Perth whispered, closing his eyes. "I was always a spoiled child and one day I was begging my dad to take me for ice-cream, even though it was storming. I was always brave; I didn't mind the rain or anything. He buckled me in at six years old, driving us to the parlor... We didn't make it there."
Perth's voice faltered. Saint didn't want Perth to stop, though, he wanted to know Perth.
"I lived, obviously," Perth mumbled, opening his eyes to look at the ceiling.
Saint wanted Perth to look at him. He wanted to see Perth's eyes.
"Mum and my sister... Well, they were so sweet and kind- of course they didn't blame me. A man moved in down the street two years later. I was a little broken, but I was healing, and it helped when my mother started dating this man, Mark. I liked Mark."
Perth finally locked eyes with Saint and the older boy felt he'd melt into a puddle with how deep Perth's emotion-filled eyes were.
"When I turned fourteen, I came out as gay. No one minded. In fact, they were happy that I was so confident in myself. My older sister, Sammy, was proud. I loved her so much."
Perth's large palm moved back to Saint's cheek, holding it, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Around that time, Mark found a new job. He was a rich, hard-working man. He began to take long trips. He never cheated in my mother, I could feel that he loved her, but he was never around. My mother became sad and Sammy and I couldn't help. At sixteen, I became rebellious. I started partying and doing drugs. I even hooked up with girls, but I was mostly fucking straight boys because I loved to make them feel filthy. I was morbid."
