Friend

#2.4

Gulping down another scream
to forget the features of your skin.
-Smirnoff

The dinner went surprisingly calm, for George it felt... unusual. He couldn't recall last time he met his parents, not even on Christmas or birthdays, even though they lived in the same city a few kilometers apart, they would always exchange texts or make a short call and send gifts to each other.
His mother seemed to be happy to meet him after a while, trying her best to bond with her son, unlike his dad, who stayed serious and formal through the whole night instead, and George acted the same way with him.

Now there were only him and George, they were at the terrace of the luxurious restaurant while his father was smoking a cigar, the expensive scent surrounding them.
"George." his tone always cold, distant.
"My expectations on you are high, and you're aware of that far too well." George sighed, fed up with the same speech his father always gave him whenever he met him, now that George thought about it, that was probably the reason he avoided his parents as much as he could.
"And you want me to inherit your fashion company." he continued for his father.
"Correct." his father nodded, looking at his son.
"But father..." He forced himself to look at him in the eyes. "The issue with it is that my mind works for computers, codes, numbers, not for... clothes and fashion."

His father remained silent, too used to the 'I'll think about it.' answer he always received. However his expression hardened, still not pleased with the answer.
"I-it's getting late." he averted eyes, not bearing to look at his father anymore. "Mom and the others must be waiting-"
"Don't stutter." his father simply answered, ignoring George's words. "It makes you look vulnerable."
And after that, his father walked towards the inside of the restaurant.

George sighed, looking his father from further away, sadness in his face as he bit the inside of his cheek, but he preferred his father's cold attitude other that the angry one.
They quickly walked inside of the restaurant, his father insisting on paying for everything as his son and daughter only sighed in defeat.
Once out of the restaurant they all exchanged hugs while his father looked from distance, going to take the car as an excuse to avoid hugs and goodbyes.
They all parted ways, as his mother was getting inside on the passenger seat, his husband waiting for her. The silent drive was comfortable between the two, the car running under the lighted road.
His mother sighed, turning to look at her husband. "You two are so similar."
Her husband gave a quick glance, "Me and who?"
"George." she simply smiled.
He scoffed, "No we're not. He's into all that computer stuff while all I care about is fashion and my company."
"Not about your works, honey." she rolled her eyes, "He's always looked foreign to kisses and hugs, and he still does... it might not look like it but he always tried to make us proud of him."
His father sat silent, trying to put together an answer.
She sighed, "I know you didn't notice that honey, don't worry. You two are too hostile to each other to comprehend one another..."

***

George looked at his reflection on the mirror, his bare chest looking white paper under the bright light of the bedroom, when was the last time he got tanned?
He never had big muscles, 'they didn't suit him' was the answer Claire always said whenever it came up. His waist looked a little too feminine in his opinion, but Claire always said that it didn't bother her. He never had much body hair, but it was good because Claire hated them.

"You think you're hot?" Claire appeared from behind him, " 'Cause I do."
He looked at Claire through her mirrored reflection. She got closer, as skinny fingers wrapped around his chest.
She rested her head on the brunet's back, curly blond hair tickling his skin while she left delicate kisses on his bare back, her warm lips feeling like boiling water under the brunette's skin, her fingers moving as incandescent iron was melting his body.
"Babe, I don't feel like doing it tonight..." he placed his hands on Claire's who was reaching for his waistband.
His girlfriend shushed him, "I know scotch makes you aroused, and you drank quite a good amount."