love_made_public: (stunned)
Lito is not answering.

No one is answering.

It's 6 in the morning and while it is possible that Lito simply slept at the studio rather than go all the way home, Hernando knows he would have called. Hernando had slept fitfully on the couch, the television on low in the background in case there was something he'd needed to know.

It is hardly the first time Lito has been out all night filming or at a party but this feels different. He realizes he has been pacing for several minutes and stops in front of the television just in time to see breaking news.

He sinks to his knees, watching wide eyed reports of strangeness: randomly poisoned fruits putting people into comas, sightings of a unicorn, ghosts appearing and there at the end; an evacuation at the studio. He scrambles up, grabbing his keys and wallet and tears down the stairs and into the street. He's still dressed, thank God for that, but he knows he looks crazed as he runs up the street looking for a cab. In the end, he's four blocks towards the studio before he finds one willing to take him on and all but throws a fist full of cash at the driver once they are close enough for him to make it the rest of the way on foot. The gate blocking off the sound stages is jarred open, as if it had been wrenched and as he squeezes through he hopes badly that this is an overreaction he will be mocked for.
love_made_public: (Default)
It is not that Hernando isn't used to waiting up for Lito. It was, in fact, very common back home and still is sometimes even without so many parties and premieres to go to. Of course, one difference is also that if they so desire, Hernando can go with Lito to such things.

So Lito running late and Hernando waiting for him should not be a thing that causes worry or agitation and yet here he sits in their living room, half watching Darrow's strange news programs and still unable to focus. The newscasters seem baffled about a few new strange occurrences but that is not out of the ordinary for a place such as this. There is something, though, that is putting Hernando ill at ease and as he checks his phone yet again, he thinks he will be very glad to have a night in with Lito when he arrives.

For Lito

Mar. 15th, 2017 09:30 pm
love_made_public: (Default)
Second job interview. Second rejection. Second verse same as the first.

He is overqualified and they think he will be bored but most importantly, they already know who he is. Or, at least, they know what he does in the bedroom. They know precisely what he looks like when he is getting fucked. They do not say so, but not a one of them has been able to hide their shock when they finally meet him in person. The newspaper, apparently, was distributed far and wide.

Having to tell Lito is very nearly the worst part. He steels himself, trying to drop this disappointment before he walks into his apartment, setting down his bag.

"Lito, my love, your kept man is home. I brought groceries so please tell me you have not tried to cook for me, as sweet as the attempts always are!" he calls out, hauling his finds to the kitchen.
love_made_public: (looking up)
It has been nearly three days and nights, now. Three days and nights of Lito fixing what should only have taken one, if that. To break things off with four men who were merely physical to Lito, this should not have been a multi-day undertaking. And now? Now Lito is back at that club, the club where he met so many of these men, where men went to find men who looked like Lito.

Hernando supposes he is expected to wait here yet again, to receive Lito at his door full of apologies and promises and self-loathing. Hernando knows that is what is expected. He is supposed to be the calm one, the rational one in this relationship. Or what was a relationship. But this is simply too much to bear.

He changes into the jeans and simply black button down that Lito had purchased him, slipping lube and a condom into his pocket. It has been too long, too long has something that ought to be his has been shared with Darrow. He feels half mad with jealousy. It is not him, this is not how he acts but then again, he has never been pushed quite this far.

It is Lito. His Lito.

He forgoes a coat, determined that he will not want as many layers to contend with as he hurries to the club, pushing his way past the bouncer and scanning the room. It is so strange to be looking for Lito in such a place but he is not difficult to find. Lito's sort of beauty would stand out in any crowd.

"Lito!" he shouts, pushing past half naked and sweaty men, wondering how many of them has had his boyfriend.

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