RP: Unexpected Discovery
Date: Sunday, April 10, 2011
Characters: Ty Ross, Alex Jameson
Location: Alex’s apartment
Status: Private
Summary: Ty has a rough morning
Completion: Complete
It had been a busy week. Ty had several bookings for Shutterbug, which was great but also required some juggling of his schedule. After years of sorta having set hours to work for the Weekly with times set aside to hit up different places for candids, it was taking him time to adjust to having something different every few days. He was also working on the calendar for Rori’s charity, getting some ideas for possible images, though he still needed to visit one or two of the ranches and get the names of the models so he could start arranging actual shoots.
One of his old PR contacts had lined him up with a job for a print ad, which meant a nice fee that’d pretty easily take care of buying the bed he’d been planning to get them for their new house, but it also meant dealing with kids and dogs and an asshole rep who thought he knew everything. By the time he’d finished that on Friday, it had been early evening, so he hadn’t felt like dropping by Meg’s birthday party, which made him a sucky friend, and he hadn’t taken a shift at Abbey that night, which made him a sucky employee even if Alex probably wouldn’t agree. It had been worth it, of course, because the final images had been something he hadn’t been sure he could pull off, the money was great, and the asshole rep had even commented about hiring him again.
Still, it had been a stressful way to end the week, so he’d basically bummed around a lot yesterday. Well, not too much, since there was like a ton of shit to get done before they could move into their new house, which he still couldn’t even think in his head without grinning like a dork he was sure, and his exhibit at the gallery had ended Friday, not that he’d had time to drop in for one last look like he’d planned. He had stopped in yesterday to sort through everything that had been bought, which was actually most of it, and to pick up the few frames and guestbook that he had to take home with him. It was thrilling to know that the exhibit had gone well, based on what Allison said and on the couple of reviews he’d seen in the papers, and he still couldn’t get over the fact that people had actually paid money to own some of his photographs for like an art hanging on the wall kinda way.
Thinking about that, he put down the Target ad he’d been looking at and got up to get the guestbook out of the bag he’d set by the sofa yesterday. Since he’d gone in to work the bar last night, he hadn’t had time to really look at it yet, so he figured now was as good a time as any. Alex was out with Tigger, trying that relaxation and new activity thing the doc had suggested, and Ty had stayed in because he wanted Alex to have the space he needed to work through Whitehall’s suggestions. There hadn’t been any improvement in the physical area for Alex yet, but the sessions must have been grueling because his emotional state after usually meant a lot of cuddling and snuggling and petting as Ty tried to give him what he could to help him through all this.
It was still so damn frustrating not being able to do more, especially when they were still intimate and Ty really wanted to reciprocate in ways that he couldn’t because Alex was getting his pleasure from giving Ty pleasure and couldn’t get that from anything Ty could do with his hands or mouth or dick. It felt unbalanced to him, even if he knew in his head that it was what Alex wanted and that it was helping them remain intimate. It still didn’t feel right to come so hard and imagine how Alex must feel not being able to feel that himself. He just wanted Alex to be better. Not because of the sex, but because it meant that Alex had worked through whatever was weighing on him so heavily that it affected him physically like this. He hated so much that Alex was hurting, obviously, and he couldn’t do anything to make it better.
Ty shook his head and focused his attention on the guestbook. He opened it and leaned back on the sofa, shifting it so he could read it. When he tilted the book, he noticed a loose page hanging out of the back. He opened the book straight to that, figuring he could reattach it if it had come loose somehow, but he quickly saw that it wasn’t actually part of the book. It was a sketch of one of his photos, sorta, but only it had him in the picture. Young him with a camera. Just enough detail for him to recognize who it was supposed to be, since his hair had been a fucking mess when he was like thirteen and fourteen, a mop of blond that had always been falling into his eyes.
He didn’t realize he was shaking until he let go of the sketch. It was like he was in one of those cheesy horror movies because he knew he should just close the book and ignore the sketch but he knew there was writing on the guestbook page because he’d glanced quickly before being distracted by the art and now he couldn’t not look despite having that feeling that he shouldn’t. It was like yelling at the screen when the nubile young women decided to take showers during massacres or when they started running towards the bad guy and you wanted to warn them that it was such a bad idea to do that. Only he was alone right now, and there was no one to smack him upside the head and tell him to close the book and forget about it because it was a bad idea to find out who’d have sketched something so detailed and left it for him.
When he read the words written on the page, he felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Hard. Your mother. No. He didn’t have a mother anymore. She’d disowned him just the same as his dad had, just like Stephen obviously had. Love always. What the hell was that? He couldn’t even remember hearing her say those words all the years he was growing up. His dad hadn’t approved of hugs and affection and using the word love, as Ty remembered clearly. His dad hated how tactile Ty had been, and he could remember being punished for hugging as a kid, being told it was wrong to be so much like a pathetic girl. One reason he’d loved sex so much was the touching and being touched. By then, it had been years since he’d really been hugged or anything.
But that stuff wasn’t even the worst. The worst was the realization that his mom had been at his show, that she knew where he was, that she had written her charming little note and left her pretty little sketch as if that somehow made up for a decade of knowing he wasn’t good enough to be their son, of knowing he’d never been enough, of knowing he didn’t deserve to be loved because his own parents hadn’t loved him or wanted him. How dare she try to ruin one of the most important professional moments in his life?
Oh God. His mom had been in town. Ty struggled to catch his breath as he closed his eyes and rubbed his fists over them. He wasn’t gonna cry, damn it. It had been years since he’d been kicked out of their lives, and he was happy without them. He tried and tried with Stephen and it always failed and now their mom had been to see his show. Had seen things he’d taken over the years, photos that meant something to him and had personal connections, and she didn’t deserve to share that with him. She hadn’t said a word when his dad had called him those names, when he’d been punished for not being good enough, when he’d been kicked out with only a backpack full of everything he could stuff into it. Hadn’t tried to find him after to make sure he was alive or dead or living on the streets or anything. He should hate her, just like he hated his dad. But she was his mom.
Ty opened his eyes, blinking back tears as he reached for the sketch and ripped it right down the middle. When he saw the two pieces in his shaking hands, he whined softly and stumbled off the couch. He ran to the kitchen and opened the drawer, searching through it until he found the tape. Sliding to the floor, he tried to pull tape out of the dispenser but he was shaking and crying and felt like a scared kid who didn’t know what to do or how to feel and he finally just dropped the dispenser on the floor along with the two halves of the sketch. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and tried to stop shaking and crying.
Characters: Ty Ross, Alex Jameson
Location: Alex’s apartment
Status: Private
Summary: Ty has a rough morning
Completion: Complete
It had been a busy week. Ty had several bookings for Shutterbug, which was great but also required some juggling of his schedule. After years of sorta having set hours to work for the Weekly with times set aside to hit up different places for candids, it was taking him time to adjust to having something different every few days. He was also working on the calendar for Rori’s charity, getting some ideas for possible images, though he still needed to visit one or two of the ranches and get the names of the models so he could start arranging actual shoots.
One of his old PR contacts had lined him up with a job for a print ad, which meant a nice fee that’d pretty easily take care of buying the bed he’d been planning to get them for their new house, but it also meant dealing with kids and dogs and an asshole rep who thought he knew everything. By the time he’d finished that on Friday, it had been early evening, so he hadn’t felt like dropping by Meg’s birthday party, which made him a sucky friend, and he hadn’t taken a shift at Abbey that night, which made him a sucky employee even if Alex probably wouldn’t agree. It had been worth it, of course, because the final images had been something he hadn’t been sure he could pull off, the money was great, and the asshole rep had even commented about hiring him again.
Still, it had been a stressful way to end the week, so he’d basically bummed around a lot yesterday. Well, not too much, since there was like a ton of shit to get done before they could move into their new house, which he still couldn’t even think in his head without grinning like a dork he was sure, and his exhibit at the gallery had ended Friday, not that he’d had time to drop in for one last look like he’d planned. He had stopped in yesterday to sort through everything that had been bought, which was actually most of it, and to pick up the few frames and guestbook that he had to take home with him. It was thrilling to know that the exhibit had gone well, based on what Allison said and on the couple of reviews he’d seen in the papers, and he still couldn’t get over the fact that people had actually paid money to own some of his photographs for like an art hanging on the wall kinda way.
Thinking about that, he put down the Target ad he’d been looking at and got up to get the guestbook out of the bag he’d set by the sofa yesterday. Since he’d gone in to work the bar last night, he hadn’t had time to really look at it yet, so he figured now was as good a time as any. Alex was out with Tigger, trying that relaxation and new activity thing the doc had suggested, and Ty had stayed in because he wanted Alex to have the space he needed to work through Whitehall’s suggestions. There hadn’t been any improvement in the physical area for Alex yet, but the sessions must have been grueling because his emotional state after usually meant a lot of cuddling and snuggling and petting as Ty tried to give him what he could to help him through all this.
It was still so damn frustrating not being able to do more, especially when they were still intimate and Ty really wanted to reciprocate in ways that he couldn’t because Alex was getting his pleasure from giving Ty pleasure and couldn’t get that from anything Ty could do with his hands or mouth or dick. It felt unbalanced to him, even if he knew in his head that it was what Alex wanted and that it was helping them remain intimate. It still didn’t feel right to come so hard and imagine how Alex must feel not being able to feel that himself. He just wanted Alex to be better. Not because of the sex, but because it meant that Alex had worked through whatever was weighing on him so heavily that it affected him physically like this. He hated so much that Alex was hurting, obviously, and he couldn’t do anything to make it better.
Ty shook his head and focused his attention on the guestbook. He opened it and leaned back on the sofa, shifting it so he could read it. When he tilted the book, he noticed a loose page hanging out of the back. He opened the book straight to that, figuring he could reattach it if it had come loose somehow, but he quickly saw that it wasn’t actually part of the book. It was a sketch of one of his photos, sorta, but only it had him in the picture. Young him with a camera. Just enough detail for him to recognize who it was supposed to be, since his hair had been a fucking mess when he was like thirteen and fourteen, a mop of blond that had always been falling into his eyes.
He didn’t realize he was shaking until he let go of the sketch. It was like he was in one of those cheesy horror movies because he knew he should just close the book and ignore the sketch but he knew there was writing on the guestbook page because he’d glanced quickly before being distracted by the art and now he couldn’t not look despite having that feeling that he shouldn’t. It was like yelling at the screen when the nubile young women decided to take showers during massacres or when they started running towards the bad guy and you wanted to warn them that it was such a bad idea to do that. Only he was alone right now, and there was no one to smack him upside the head and tell him to close the book and forget about it because it was a bad idea to find out who’d have sketched something so detailed and left it for him.
When he read the words written on the page, he felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Hard. Your mother. No. He didn’t have a mother anymore. She’d disowned him just the same as his dad had, just like Stephen obviously had. Love always. What the hell was that? He couldn’t even remember hearing her say those words all the years he was growing up. His dad hadn’t approved of hugs and affection and using the word love, as Ty remembered clearly. His dad hated how tactile Ty had been, and he could remember being punished for hugging as a kid, being told it was wrong to be so much like a pathetic girl. One reason he’d loved sex so much was the touching and being touched. By then, it had been years since he’d really been hugged or anything.
But that stuff wasn’t even the worst. The worst was the realization that his mom had been at his show, that she knew where he was, that she had written her charming little note and left her pretty little sketch as if that somehow made up for a decade of knowing he wasn’t good enough to be their son, of knowing he’d never been enough, of knowing he didn’t deserve to be loved because his own parents hadn’t loved him or wanted him. How dare she try to ruin one of the most important professional moments in his life?
Oh God. His mom had been in town. Ty struggled to catch his breath as he closed his eyes and rubbed his fists over them. He wasn’t gonna cry, damn it. It had been years since he’d been kicked out of their lives, and he was happy without them. He tried and tried with Stephen and it always failed and now their mom had been to see his show. Had seen things he’d taken over the years, photos that meant something to him and had personal connections, and she didn’t deserve to share that with him. She hadn’t said a word when his dad had called him those names, when he’d been punished for not being good enough, when he’d been kicked out with only a backpack full of everything he could stuff into it. Hadn’t tried to find him after to make sure he was alive or dead or living on the streets or anything. He should hate her, just like he hated his dad. But she was his mom.
Ty opened his eyes, blinking back tears as he reached for the sketch and ripped it right down the middle. When he saw the two pieces in his shaking hands, he whined softly and stumbled off the couch. He ran to the kitchen and opened the drawer, searching through it until he found the tape. Sliding to the floor, he tried to pull tape out of the dispenser but he was shaking and crying and felt like a scared kid who didn’t know what to do or how to feel and he finally just dropped the dispenser on the floor along with the two halves of the sketch. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and tried to stop shaking and crying.