Oct 03, 2009 15:22
Title: Take a breath and feel what matters
Pairing: Gabe/William
Rating: PG-13
Summary: William Beckett is an amateur photographer who works full time at a music bar named Notorious; he doesn't talk much and, to everyone around him, he's a complete mystery. That is, until Gabe Saporta shows up.
“The beauty is in capturing emotions. In a man’s broken heart, in sensing the happiness through a little kid’s pout, or feeling the love in the absent look on a lover’s face. It doesn’t have to be demonstrative or obvious, but it has to make you feel.”
Word Count: 4.306
Disclaimer: I'm owning them right now. Seriously, I only own the plot. This never happened; Gabe and William (and Frank, Cassadee, Tom and Courtney) own themselves, and the real Notorious doesn't belong to me either. Title from TAI's song Days Like Masquerades.
Notes: At the end.
TAKE A BREATH AND FEEL WHAT MATTERS
Pressing his fingertips to the laminated paper, William let the emotions take over him for a second; then he put all the pictures back in the envelope and paid fourteen bucks to the blond girl behind the register. After thanking her for the compliments that were never missing, he grabbed everything and left the store, crossing the street and going back to the café.
It was still early to open, so William got himself a mocha latte and went over the photographs he had just gotten. The first one, which was a caption of an old lady, was no good, and he felt the urge to rip it apart, but he didn’t; there was always someone that liked what he didn’t, anyway. From the second to the seventh, the pictures where okay but the message didn’t deliver well, the eight had too much exposure, and the ninth was too dark. The tenth, William thought, was just perfect.
It was the only photograph he had chose not to shoot in black and white, but still the colors where soft and pale. It portrayed a little kid, with blond hair that looked white, who had fallen down in the middle of the street; his eyes were wide in pain and he was pouting, trying to hold the tears forming in his eyes, while his clothes were covered in dirt. The kid was the centre of attention in the picture, but behind him stood a little blond girl who was staring at him with a malice-filled grin, and William thought she was just marvelous.
After a few minutes of debating with himself, William decided it was the picture he wanted, he framed it and hung it in the new set he had prepared the night before. It wasn’t often that Mr. Persely, the owner of the bar, let him hang his own work for the exhibitions, so when he had the chance, William tried to choose the best of his stuff, and it wasn’t always easy.
When the clock hit nine and it was time to open, William realized he hadn’t checked the records, prepared the daily specials or set the back for the show that night, so he had to delay the opening in order finish everything. It was about ten when he finally opened, and it was only because the chef showed up to start preparing everything.
William worked double shifts at a music bar, and he had to stay all day when they had shows, like that day. He was something similar to a manager, cashier and sometimes even a waiter, and he spent his Saturdays from eight in the morning to three in the morning. It was an exhausting job for an eighteen-year-old, but William was madly in love with it.
The thing about music bars was that they were not as easy to maintain as normal bars. First off, there was the whole design thing, because image was the first thing that sold in music bars, so William had to make sure that the photographs in exhibition were hip and matched the social issues in the world each week. He had to make sure the colors he used on the menu were the ones that ruled the runways in Milan and that everyone that worked there was eye candy. The second thing, the music part of music bars was that people could listen to whatever they wanted while they ate or drank. That meant that the bar had to have stack of pretty much any musical entity in the world, have personal music players with headphones for everyone, and make sure that background music didn’t cover the one the clients were listening to. It was hard maintenance, but William had managed to do a good job with the place for almost six months. There were the nightly shows every Saturday, but luckily, William had Cassadee to take care of that, so he just had to check the photography and the color scheme matched the musical style of each band that played.
The morning was as calm as usual, only a few people showing up for breakfast and then three couples for lunch. Frank had called in sick, which meant that William couldn’t take his break and that he was alone for the rest of the afternoon.
It was about five, and William was listening to Spoon while he waited for Cassadee to show up so they could close and start setting up for the night, when the door opened and someone entered the bar. As usual, William waited for him to sit down so he could go to his table and serve him, but the man walked to the counter and waited.
“Hi, how can I help you?” William asked, trying to be as polite as he could.
He could already tell the kind of person this guy was. Young, probably around William’s age, wealthy and obnoxious and just everything that William didn’t like. He was wearing an unzipped purple hoodie, a plain white T-shirt, a pair of grey skinny jeans and a black NY cap to the side. He was certainly attractive, but he had a smirk on his face and that look that said “I’m better than you”, and there wasn’t anything that annoyed William more than those people who thought they could do anything just because they had money.
“Uhm, yeah, I’m here for the job?” unlike what William had thought, he didn’t sound too confident.
“You?” the word came out way more rude than Bill wanted, “You want to work here?”
“Yeah, I do, why?”
“You are not the kind of person that usually shows up for the helper’s position.”
“I’m kind of in a bit of an emergency so I can’t really afford choosing what to do; I need a job.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, my father threatened to throw me out if I don’t get a job and start doing something because he doesn’t want me fooling around and deadline’s in three hours and if I don’t have a job by that time I’ll be homeless and I really like this place so hope you’ll give me this job and ignore my lack of experience because if not it will mean my dead.”
“Whoa, you talk a lot.”
“I do, in fact.”
William looked at the guy and considered his options. He was good looking, which was a requirement to work at Notorious, according to Mr. Persely, and he seemed smart, so William thought it couldn’t hurt to actually give this boy a chance. Maybe he wasn’t the jackass he seemed to be.
“What’s your name?”
“Gabe. Gabriel Saporta.”
“Okay, Gabe. I don’t do this too often,” William admitted, “I’m usually really picky when it comes to the people working here.”
“But…”
“But, I’m going to give you an opportunity. If you mess up, you’re gone.”
“Thank you, thank you so much…”Gabe started, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”
“William Beckett.”
“Well thank you, William Beckett.”
On the next few weeks, William found out that working with Gabe was surprisingly easier than he would have thought. In fact, they turned out get along amazingly well, starting from day one.
“So, William, how old are you?” Gabe had asked on his fourth day, while he re-learned how to use the coffee machine.
“Eighteen, you?”
“Nineteen.”
William couldn’t help but frown, “and you don’t study?”
“Yeah, no. that’s kind of the whole reason my dad forced me to get this job,” Gabe said dryly.
“Oh, right, sorry.”
Gabe smiled, and William felt a slight grin stretch on his own face. Realizing that he was smiling, Bill’s cheeks colored in no time.
“Do you?”
“Uh, what?”
“You know, study?”
“Oh, no, I don’t, can’t afford it, so I work and try to get better with my camera.”
“You’re a photographer?”
“And a filmmaker too, but I’m no good.”
A grin flooded William’s face when Gabe muttered that he found that hard to believe, and they spent the rest of the afternoon talking about Bill’s job in photography. By the closing time, they had already arranged that some day in the near future, Gabe would go to William’s place to see his study and, most importantly, his work.
“I’m telling you; don’t expect too much, I’m just an amateur.”
“I think it’d be impossible not to expect too much from you. Just from the outside you seem amazing, I wonder how good the inside is,” Gabe said while he walked away and left William red-faced and wondering what that had meant.
Gabe was still struggling with the coffee machine by this fourth week of job, and William found that highly amusing, though he secretly enjoyed having to explain it over an over to him. It was one of those moments when he could be close to Gabe without feeling uncomfortable, though he shouldn’t ever be. In scarcely twenty or so days, they had become practically best friends, and William practically knew Gabe’s history by heart. The older boy certainly liked to talk, unlike the other who was a bit too reserved. All Gabe new about William was what he showed without noticing, and what Gabe could tell from the photographs published on Notorious. Everything else was a complete mystery.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” Gabe asked one Saturday while they had lunch.
There was an Army show that night at Notorious, and Cassadee was taking care of everything with Frank, so Gabe and William were able to take the day off.
“I don’t,” Bill replied, grinning.
“Is there a reason?”
“I just don’t have much to say.”
“I’m not buying that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are so expressive with your work. Your photographs say so much about you, like they could talk to me without words.”
“Well, I don’t have much to say in words.”
“Okay,” Gabe said and stood up.
He walked away from the bench where they were eating and disappeared for about five minutes. When he came back, he was holding a plastic bag full of stuff.
“Here. If you can’t talk to me in words, say it with pictures, tell me your story.”
William looked at the plastic bag that Gabe had left on his knees and then back at his friend for a few minutes.
“What are you talking about?” he finally spoke, frowning.
“I bought an instant Polaroid and about ten films. I’ll drive, so you just point the way.”
“Where are we going?” Bill asked, a frown stuck to his forehead.
“Wherever you want to go,” said Gabe beamingly.
“Wrong question,” William laughed, “what are we doing?”
“You’re telling me your story; if you won’t talk, then you can show me through your camera. Just capture whatever you feel like. Your life in photos.”
Contraire to what Gabe had thought, William nodded and started walking in direction to Gabe’s car, getting the camera ready and looking strangely predisposed.
“Where to?” Gabe asked, and didn’t even question when William murmured the address.
They drove around all day. They visited an old small house in the suburbs that Gabe assumed was from William’s childhood and then they went to an abandoned park and a beach, where William stayed for almost an hour, pointing the camera to the most random things and making Gabe a little bit nervous. They drove to the mall then, and to a church, and Gabe got lost and had to do a million turns to get to the amusement park William wanted to go to. They went to a cemetery at last, and Gabe decided to stay in the car then, because it seemed to be a really personal moment for William and he certainly didn’t want to interrupt.
“I’m ready to got,” Bill said when he got to the car and showed the bag filled with photographs, “but I need to put everything together so I can show it to you.”
Gabe nodded and smiled at the boy, who looked rather miserable, wishing to take all the sadness away.
“Take me to your place?” he asked, without thinking about it.
It took a few seconds to William to respond, but then he finally tilted his head and murmured the address to Gabe, who didn’t hesitate and stepped on the gas.
They got to the building in no time, and they were both nervous as they entered the elevator and William pressed the eighth button. When he entered the apartment, Gabe realized he had never gone to William’s apartment like they had planned, just like they had never gone to a concert together and how William had never showed him his work, other than the one exhibited in Notorious. It felt surreal to finally be there, as if he had been waiting for years, rather than weeks.
The apartment was neat, maybe not extremely tidy, but was one of those places that always look clean. The walls were a soft shade of grey that was very similar to the color of the tables and the kitchen counter. There was a black coach in front of a black T.V. and tons of black and white photographs were hanged on the walls, all lined up perfectly in their white frames. It looked a bit unlived, but small details, like a glass of water left on a shelf or a soda can in front of the T.V. made it look less cold and more comfy.
“I’ll go to the dark room to check on something I left earlier, make yourself at home,” William indicated and left the room.
Given that it was his first time in William’s place and that Gabe was a really nosy person, it would have been expected from him to check on everything while William was away but, for some reason, he didn’t feel like going through his stuff. All Gabe wanted to do was see Bill’s photographs.
Some of the pictures on the walls were from famous photographers, but most of them were William’s work. Gabe recognized a few from previous exhibitions in Notorious, but the best ones, he had never seen. William was probably very reserved about his greater works.
Gabe was so caught up one of the pictures, the portrait of a really old and poor woman crying, that he didn’t realize when William came back and stood next to him.
“Photography isn’t about shallow prettiness,” William spoke softly; “It doesn’t matter if you are good-looking or you are ugly. The lent doesn’t see it, it goes deeper than that.
“The beauty is in capturing emotions. In a man’s broken heart, in sensing the happiness through a little kid’s pout, or feeling the love in the absent look on a lover’s face. It doesn’t have to be demonstrative or obvious, but it has to make you feel.”
A sudden wave of warmth aroused Gabe as he heard William speak. The way Bill talked about photography with such passion made him shiver as they went to the next picture; a teenage girl naked, covering herself and not letting anything be seen, her cheeks pink in gray shades and embarrassment clear in her face. There was a tag under it that wrote C.B. October 2006.
“There is no black or white in photography. It doesn’t matter who’s good or bad. There are shades and tones, and light and exposure, and it’s all about capturing the right image in the right time, and let the emotions flow. You can take a picture of a beautiful woman and make her look ugly, and you can capture something horrible and make it amazing. It’s not about the picture itself, but what it transmits.”
Somehow, Gabe knew what Bill was talking about. He didn’t know much about photography or about any art in particular really, but he had sensed the feeling when hearing some piece or music, or when reading a specific extract from a novel. The feeling of belonging, of relating to something and fitting in, that that can’t be explained or taught, but that just happens. That was what William was talking about, and Gabe understood.
“When you see through the lens while holding your camera up and feel your chest tighten and your heart racing and you just know it’s the right place and the right time. That’s what I like about photography.”
It was the first time since they had met that William had talked so much and so fluent, and it made Gabe feel closer to him.
With a tilt of his head, William led Gabe to the couch, where he passed him the bag where all the pictures were and just sat back, waiting for the older boy to see them.
The first picture was of the house where they had first went, then there was one of a colorful game from the park, and one of an aged wooden swing. The next picture had been taken on the church, and was and old bench that had been written on; W.E.B. There was one of the teacups in the amusement park, and one of cotton candy.
The three following photos portrayed a huge school that Gabe had forgotten about, the portrait of the football team and an old empty classroom.
The photos from the beach came next, and there was one of the water with the sun setting on the reflection, one of the quay and one of a moldy rock that had an caption on the base that made Gabe feel he was reaching a very personal time in William’s life; there was a scratched W.B. & T.C, followed with a C.B. & T.C.
It was unexpected to find a smiley face as the picture following the rock one, and then there were four or five photos of flower. Gabe was reluctant to see the final three photographs, though he didn’t exactly know why.
When he finally did look at the third to last photograph, his mouth opened in shock. He had been expecting the pictures from the graveyard to come, but had thought it would be something metaphorical. The granite grave was covered in flowers, and the tombstone was square and had a long inscription:
Courtney Beckett.
12-8-1988 / 9-4-2008
Beloved daughter,
sister and girlfriend
with love we’ll remember you
The next one was also a picture of a grave, but it belonged to someone else.
Thomas Conrad
7-10-1988 / 9-4-2008
With pain we let you go,
knowing you already are
in a better place
The last picture, it showed both of the tombs, and an inscription on a headstone.
Tom and Courtney
lie here
in eternal love.
In life and in death,
always together
“Your sister…” Gabe began, but didn’t exactly know how to continue.
“I’d like to start from the beginning, if you don’t mind,” William almost whispered with his eyes fixed on the floor, and Gabe nodded in agreement.
“My sister and I were raised in the suburbs. Our parents were devoted Christians, and they tried to inculcate religion to us, though it didn’t work with me. Courtney and I, we were best friends; she didn’t mind me being younger than her, and as we didn’t really fit at school, we were there for each other.
“She used to take me to the amusement park every Saturday. Even when she was a year older than me, her height didn’t match her age, and we were only allowed to go to the teacups; every Saturday we’d go there, ride the teacups until our heads were spinning and then stuff ourselves with cotton candy. I used to love cotton candy.
“She started high school a year before I did and we grew apart. We went to huge school, and she made new friends, became popular and forgot all about me. When I started my freshmen year, I wasn’t as funny or charismatic as her and I had no friends. That’s when my interest in photography started.
William made a pause and half smiled, but then his expression was blank again.
“On my junior year, I met this guy. He was a senior, as my sister, and was one of the popular kids. He was in the football team, and everybody liked him, but for some reason, he was interested in me. At first I thought it was a prank from his friends, and I told him to flee, but at last, he charmed me.
“We used to see each other in secret. We’d go to that hidden spot on the beach and spent countless hours there. Then rumors happened, and we broke up until he finished high school. He started college and we got back together, and suddenly Courtney was all over him, and they were an item too. Tom would tell me how annoying she was, how he didn’t like her at all, but still he’d go out with her and kiss her in front of me and be her boyfriend to anyone else.
“I told myself that he wasn’t ready to come out and that she was a perfect cover. I was convinced of Tom and Courtney being the best thing for me, because I got to hung out with Tom at my place at all times without my parents suspecting anything.”
The tone William kept as he spoke was monotonous, but suddenly his angst was almost tangible.
“My prom night came, and Tom promised he would go. He’d take Courtney as an excuse, because she loved those kinds of things, and we’d dance and spend prom together.”
For a minute, William stopped talking, and Gabe was unsure whether he was crying or not, but then he went back to talking, and Gabe to listening.
“I spent all night next to the door, waiting for him, and he never showed. I was convinced it was the worst night of my life, and that was until I got back home. My mother was crying relentlessly and my father was on the phone, with a blank expression on his face. Then they told me about the accident.
“William, Bill, I’m so sorry.”
“You know what the worst part is?” William asked, and looked up at Gabe, “I wasn’t even sad; I was so mad at Courtney for taking him away from me I never even grieved. I shut myself and let my anger take over me.
“When I found out they were being buried together, with that thing about their eternal love, and I lost it. I told my parents absolutely everything in a rage assault, and they kicked me out. They were very religious, and couldn’t deal with me being gay.”
“I would have never thought you… I’m really sorry Bill. That’s a hard life to carry on your back.”
“I took me so long to realize it wasn’t love. It took me too long to stop being angry… I think the first day I felt in peace with what had happened was the day I met you.”
Gabe couldn’t help but to smile, and when William smiled back, even when it was a faint grin, it made Gabe’s heart flicker.
The sun had set by the time they finished talking, and Gabe was unsure to stay when Bill invited him for diner, but he did after very little insistence.
After dinner they went back to chatting, and William talked more, and more, and in no time he was laughing and telling anecdotes and sharing with Gabe in a way he had never shared with anyone.
“Can I ask you a question without you getting mad at me?” Gabe suddenly asked, interrupting William’s explanation about one particular photograph.
“You could try.”
“Why do you even work there?” Gabe asked, referring to Notorious.
“Why do you?” Bill defended quite instantly, suddenly frowning.
“You know my story. I work there to please my annoying father, but you; you could do so much better. You could be great,” Gabe smiled, “You already are amazing.”
And that was when William realized he couldn’t keep running. He wanted to say everything, but again, he had never been really good with words, so he chose to do the one thing his body allowed him to: kiss Gabe.
If Gabe had known the emotional and mysterious William and liked him, he certainly adored the new joyful and smiley William.
After the fifth week together, Bill finally took Gabe’s advice and quit his job in Notorious. He found a gallery that paid him for exhibiting his work and in no time was doing shoots for innovative magazines and independent projects.
With William’s departure, Frank had been promoted, which meant Gabe got a promotion too. He got out of his father’s house and rented an apartment a couple of block’s away from Bill’s.
They met to have lunch on the park every day, and they spent the nights at William’s, because they didn’t understand Gabe’s heater and the apartment was excessively cold after sunset.
Gabe convinced William to paint the apartment in another color, and after a lot of arguing and a few paint wars, the living room went from boring-puke-grey, as Gabe called it, to strawberry fields red.
The one condition Bill had stated in exchange of painting his place was for Gabe to let him photograph him. The thing was that no matter how attractive Gabe was in real life, when he was in front of a camera, he was a dork. Hence William ended up with a million photographs of Gabe with goofy faces that were funny at first but annoying right after.
There was only one moment when Gabe let William photograph him and didn’t make funny faces or tried to hide, and it was when they had sex. Consequently, they spent endless hours in bed because as Gabe often said, William was a photographer, and he needed as much practice as he could get.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't really write the tomb inscriptions, because I didn't know what to write and how to do it, so I made good use of my last trip to the cementery and copied them from a couple of graves, then changed the names.
I loved writing this story, so I hope you liked it too. If anyone goes to Buenos Aires, I recommend you go to Notorious at least once, because it's amazing.
standalone,
gabilliam,
notorious,
raiting: pg-13