Skin of Porcelain Love of Bear

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Comparing  skin to porcelain is meant to be a rather deep speculation on beauty. Porcelain is smooth, soft and delicate. Breakable. For women, it is often found that it is good to have skin like porcelain. For men it's different. Men want skin like clay, tanned in that subtle way, formable and strong.
    It seemed so backwards to Eric in the moment. Clay had no form and was weak, it withered in time. Porcelain, was rigid, it withstood time and heat water could not pass through it.
    Skin didn't need that. It was just a layer. Unique.

"What are you thinking of?" His hand was still spread across the Dominic's chest. How different they were. The contrast between them seemed so evident when you looked at Eric's hand splayed against the other man's chest. It angered him. He shook his head, moving his hand away to be tucked away in the blankets.

"We could be considered illegal in several time periods." 
"Two men of different colors. What a pair."
"Mhmm" Eric's partner adjusted himself against the smaller lighter man, his large hairless arms coming round to secure Eric like a child to his side. "I don't really care about that. I mean, I do. history is fine. As long as no one can stop me now," the darker one, Dominic stated for the both of them. They lay silent for a time. finally they rose together without a word. The morning went about in the usual loving silence before each had their coffee in hand and coat in arm.
"Don't forget, we're supposed to meet my parents at three." Eric's reminder contained the serious nervousness that he used when he spoke of his performances. It told you that it was business, fun and nerve wracking. Dominic just kissed his forehead.
    "I'll pick you up and we'll drive down together." Another quick kiss and then: "Be careful!" Gently Eric lifted the larger hand of his partner touching their thumb, forefinger and middle finger together.
    "You too."
~
Marius was trying really hard not to wince away from Cosset. He had never worked with this woman before and she was strangely aggressive.
"Not a dream after....." all. He pulled away. Turning to look out at Veronica who was sitting in the exact middle of the theatre. And she was mad.
"Okay. OKAY!" She  threw her arms up channeling what many in the company referred to as 'French V.' She gave Eric a pointed look before she turned to the perky young blonde beside him. "Cosset." it was her habit to address the characters rather than actors, directly. "You have talent, BUT." Eric winced as he discreetly made his way off stage and to the back where the rest of the company was stretching. He shook his head, joining them. It was sad to see people get their dreams crushed. They knew what it was like to audition for a coveted spot here, to be thrown in and told not just to sing but 'perform', for an audition.
    "Maybe." Colleen's voice wandered. "Maybe, Coraline will change her mind and this will all be in vain." There was a round of snorts.
    "Good attitude, Miss Mars." Veronica had entered, with a clipboard and a nickname. She turned to Eric. "You ready to try... As long as... you're mine... with the next one?" Thankfully, Michael stepped in.
    "Yeah."
    Triple Threat Studio was a critically acclaimed troupe. Known to be a mix of modern and traditional, they attracted a lot of attention in the New York art scene. To audition you had to do a scene with a member of the company, a full performance, showing you lived up to the name. The troupe had fifteen members, fourteen performers and a director / choreographer. They put on a wide range of performances from classic musicals, to modern ones, to plain theater. As V put it, "RENT, and Shakespeare and all the in between and after bits." Lying back on the studio floor, Eric could see the clock fade in to his vision. Almost three. He stood and after a smile that said it all to his co workers he was off. Dominic was waiting with the warm car just outside the old opera house that had been modernized into his workspace.
~
The cottage where Eric had spent his summers as a child was much more impressive the older he got. As he started to understand the green flow of the world he began to realize just how amazing his parents were. five children, only one of which was biologically theirs, a dog, and they still had a amazingly large cottage. The dog they no longer had but the cottage was still standing tall. Dominic hoisted both their bags on to his strong large shoulders and made his way inside, where he hugged Eric's mother and shook his father's hand. Eric watched on gently before leading his partner upstairs.
    "You have wonderful parents." Eric gave a tiny laugh. Dominic had known his parents for years, yet always said that upon arrival.  He knew it was because Dominic didn't have lovely parents; they had a cottage, and yet you would never catch them inviting their son and his 'boyfriend' as they put it, there for Thanksgiving. Eric had always hated the word boyfriend, because he wasn't a boy, and they weren't friends. It sounded wrong. Dominic wasn't just his friend, he was so much more. There was a reason he used the word partner, in everything. They were partners. They fell asleep without touching, feeling close within the sound's of Eric's siblings slowly arriving one by one.
~
It was days before the two were properly alone again. Real, true aloneness was rare. Thanksgiving was the next day and the whole family had burst out of the doors in search of the whole meal, because it simply did not make sense to plan ahead. The two chose to spend their time taking a walk in the surrounding wood. Central Park never did compare. Eric had grown up in the woods, if not these at the cottage, then at his childhood home. Dominic had grown up in equally wild spots, though not the woods, and he felt just as at home. Silently they wandered, looking up at eachother after every few trees for a shared smile.
    When you looked at the two against the stark blank background of the snowy wood their physical differences were again shocking. In this setting they looked like a small white deer and great brown bear. Suddenly the bear stops, the deer keeps on his path, trotting gently, delicately and gracefully, until they see the bear is not with them. They turn to face the predator without fear. The bear is kneeling, a circle of delicate silver metal thin, carefully woven like the woods. The deer cries out and there is fear. Is the smaller creature in pain? No.
    Joy, and, the porcelain deer and clay bear melt together, and kiss.