Born To Make History (boyxboy)

Chapter Nine: Propositions

Yuri picked his sister up late morning the next day, having come immediately from Victor dropping him home. He was still wearing the sweater he'd been lent, although not because he'd not had time to change out of it. It pained him to admit that he just really liked the idea of wearing Victor's clothes. He'd return it next time he saw him, which he found himself hoping, quite against his initial wishes, would be soon. Soon Hamilton would be over and Yuri would sort through the stream of paperwork that appeared like clockwork on his desk whenever he went in. He was so glad he had a job with flexible hours, or he didn't know how he would cope. It felt like he was constantly doing things, even if it never felt like he had something to do. For example, he felt obligated to spend some time with Clara because she had a lot of questions for him to avoid and he hadn't spoken to her properly the evening before, having been otherwise occupied by a certain someone.
He took her to their favourite cafe, a coffee chain that he could always rely on to give him the kind of cheap, bitter coffee that he loved best and Clara a slightly damp Emmental toastie.
'Is that his sweater?' She immediately asked as soon as they sat down. He'd forgotten that she was intuitive as a general rule and tended to spot the things most would fail to notice. 'Oh my god, you and Victor had s-'
'No!' He cried, wishing she wouldn't just blurt things out like that without finding out the full story first. Yes, she was intuitive, but it meant she made huge leaps to the most abstract assumptions at times. 'God, no.'
Well, things had happened, but they hadn't actually slept together. She looked strangely disappointed and he fought the urge to drown her in his coffee cup.
'I just stayed at his last night,' he could see that her brain was still ticking over. 'To sleep. Because I was over the legal limit and so was he, so I couldn't get home.'
'You really like him, don't you?'
'Why do you think that?'
'Because all your other boyfriends-'
'He's not my boyfriend.'
'-You tried to persuade me how much you loved them and you were always telling me you were in love with them.'
'So?'
'It was because you were trying to convince yourself rather than me. You never liked any of them, but with Victor you're trying to hide your feelings because you actually have some.' She bit into her toastie, not even looking at him. Observations like this were commonplace for her, and she was used to talking about her brother's love life with easy discretion. Maybe the promise of paid-for food had classically conditioned her to enjoy discussing his life, or chirpily dictating it at times. 'I'm glad. I think he's really nice, and you should see the way he looks at you.'
'How does he look at me?'
'Like an idiot from a film.'
'He is an actor. He can do that whenever he wants. It's kind of weird that he can just act however he wants.'
'Okay, no offence, but why would he bother? What would he stand to gain from seducing you?'
'I haven't been seduced! Although that's my worry, that he just wants to get in my pants and run.'
'I love you so much but you do know you're being really vain, right? He's a celebrity. He could sleep with anybody he wanted and you're good-looking enough but it's not like you're a Hollister model.'
'Thanks.'
'Welcome. But think about it- he literally has no need to take you on dates or come to my show or spend the night with you without doing anything if he just wants sex. If it was just physical, he'd have given up ages ago. That means it's you as a person he wants, so don't you dare deny he likes you.'
'No, I know he does. I'm just being paranoid.'
'Does he know how you feel?'
'Of course not. You're only 15, you don't understand adult relationships yet, but you don't tell them you love them just because you do.'
'Wait, do you love him?'
'Maybe a little bit,' he shrugged. 'But I wouldn't say I'm in love with him.'
'Is it not the same?'
'Definitely not.' His phone buzzed, and he had to put the conversation on hold for a second as he read the notification.
What are you doing tonight? Victor had sent him.
'It's Victor, isn't it?' Clara sidled next to him, reading over his shoulder. 'Say you.'
He elbowed her in the ribs, scandalised.
Nothing x he sent instead, casting her a fixed glare.
9pm, party, as many bottles of wine as you want. Sound okay? If the press is too much then dinner? The reply was almost immediate, which made him feel bubbly for some reason. He thought hard; was this going to be too much? He'd hated the feeling of being surrounded and the centre of attention last time, but the point still stood that he had Victor to help him cope. If he wanted an official relationship at some point, then he was going to have to get used to this publicity thing.
I'd love to :)