Ramé

Sprezzatura

(n.) the ability to make one's actions seem effortless or to disguise one's true desire, feelings, or meaning; studied carelessness

Awsten watched him nervously from across the living room as he paced back and forth. He sighed, struggling to keep a straight face as he spoke into the telephone. He'd been fighting his fight for about half an hour now and knew he wasn't making any progress. Feeling his exterior crumbling, he walked past Awsten onto the back porch, making sure the blinds were closed behind him.

"So, there's nothing I can do to change your mind," Otto asked, sniffling. He toed at the ground, running his bottom lip between his teeth.

There was a burst of static from the other side of the line. "You know we can't."

He tilted his head back, willing his tears back. "Yeah, for sure. Not like it's important or anything."

"Ottoー."

"No, it's okay dad," he said, his hurt being replaced with anger. "I get it. Thanks for hearing me out."

There was a pause, and for a moment, Otto was filled with a stupid child like hope thinking maybe, just maybe , he'd change his mind. "Okay," his father drawled. "We'll talk later."

What? In another eight months? "Yeah, for sure. Tell mom I say hi."

He grumbled something to Otto that confirmed to him that she would get his message even though they both knew she wouldn't. After a beep indicating that he had hung up, Otto pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned because even though he knew somewhere inside him that it wasn't going to happen, he was still holding out some hope. Which, retrospectively, was the stupidest thing he could've done, because now he was crushed.

His parents weren't coming to their wedding.

Despite all his pleading and begging, his father refused to even hear him out. When he finally looked up, he had stars in his eyes and looking out at their backyard, he let himself cry. He knew that Awsten was probably still sitting in the living room waiting for him, wringing his hands together, but couldn't bring himself to go inside and let Awsten see him so hung up over the obvious. Awsten knew that Otto's parents were bad for his mental health and that his relationship with them upset him, but Otto wasn't sure that he knew to what degree.

"I'm sorry," Awsten muttered kissing the side of his head. He ran a finger over Otto's bottom lip. "I know it sucks."

He didn't know though, because Awsten wasn't out yet. Holed up behind Awsten's door, Otto and Awsten could do whatever they pleased: cuddle, make out, fuck, whatever. And while Awsten knew the pain of being in the closet because of the fear of his parents despising every part of his being, he didn't actually know what it was like to have his parents look at him with the disgust that his parents didn't even bother trying to hide anymore. Being eighteen sucked.

But he had an image to uphold.

"It's okay," Otto said with an easy smile. "Well, not okay . What I meant is, if they don't want me for me it's whatever."

Awsten hummed, letting his fingers trace over Otto's neck. "Do you believe that?"

He nodded, kissing Awsten's temple so he wouldn't have to look him in the eyes.

After a while, he stood up and walked back inside. "Hey," he said softly, kissing Awsten briefly before sitting next to him, eyes on the blank TV ahead of him. "I, uhー they can't come. Or won't, I guess."