Shartos Drabbles and Oneshots

Announcements

Spartos stood outside the mahogany door, fiddling with the ends of his worn sweater sleeves. Sharrkan rested a hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture, but one that twisted his insides even worse. He was grateful his friend had come with him, and yet, he almost wish he hadn't. It had been Sharrkan to convince Spartos to tell his father; Sharrkan who had stayed beside him, and offered to go with him; Sharrkan, who had friend-zoned him without even meaning to. It wasn't like he knew Spartos had feelings for him. He knew he was gay, sure. Sharrkan and Mystras were the only ones to know so far. And soon, if he didn't get cold feet, so would his father.

Sharrkan had had to more or less worm it out of Spartos. When he finally told one of his closest friends, he was in hysterics; tears flowing down his puffy, red face, and his lips swollen and red from crying and breathing so hard. But Sharrkan hadn't sneered at him in disgust and ran away, like he was expecting. No, Sharrkan knelt beside him on the floor of his own bedroom, and hugged him. It was a gentle embrace, full of protectiveness and comfort. Spartos was aware of his feelings for the baseball player by that time, and such an embrace made his chest hurt with want. But he knew his place, and knew Sharrkan was into women. He was known for being around and dating several girls at school, after all. Some even from college! And yet.. Spartos was drawn to him. Maybe it was that playboy charm. Or the way his green eyes lit up with excitement and passion whenever he spoke about baseball or something he liked. Or how he was always the first one to stand up for somebody in need, and the first one to volunteer when Spartos needed help. Whatever the case, Spartos had fallen for this womanizing player. And hard.

Now, he was mentally readying himself to reveal the big secret to his father. Not his actual feelings, of course. Just his sexuality. There would be no grandchildren from him, at least not biologically. There'd be no fancy, traditional wedding. Spartos hoped to whatever gods there may be that he would still have those things, a husband and a family. By all means, he wanted those things- just not with any women. He wanted to be happy. He didn't want to have to lie to keep his father happy. Mystras and Sharrkan still loved him for who he was- why wouldn't his own father? 

Sharrkan's hand slid down to his upper arm, just above his elbow, and gave a gentle squeeze. "Are you ready?"

Spartos glanced at him, at his sparkling eyes filled with concern, and nodded. "Yes.. Let's.. Let's go." He said and with a spurt of determination, knocked three times on his father's office door. 

"Enter." Came the one-worded, monotonous command. Spartos complied, and opened the heavy door. 

The smell of scotch and ink invaded his nostrils. He wasn't sure why his father's office always smelled like alcohol; his father would only drink on Sundays, and even then it was just one shot glass. It was against their religions, everything his father based their lives off of, to drink any more. Surely, that wasn't enough to make such a difference. But apparently, it was. 

Darius Leoxses was seated at his desk, his reading glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose as his dull, grey eyes scanned over the pages of some document. His desk was littered with several papers and ink pens. His laptop sat on the corner to his right, the screen lit up with a half-written email. The bookcase behind him was full of books Spartos and Mystras used to try and decipher when they were still just kids. Papers stuck out from random spots. Any empty spaces were taken up with random trinkets. One of which, Spartos noted, was a clay toucan he'd made in kindergarten. The sight made the corners of his mouth twitch up just slightly. 

"Father," He said as he walked further into the room, making sure Sharrkan followed. "I'd like to speak with you."

He wasn't sure why he was always so formal with his own dad. Maybe it was the fact his father was the CEO of a big company. Or his stoic, intimidating aura. At any rate, Spartos was so used to it, he hardly noticed unless Sharrkan or one of their other friends looked at him strangely.