[Solo Scene]
Vince sat at his parents’ kitchen table, the surface littered with a sprawl of glue sticks, scissors, cut out inspirational sayings and pictures from magazines, and a giant poster board. Normally he wasn’t quite this crafty, but with his best friend home again, he wanted to make Kori a collage for his wall as a housewarming present. …apartmentwarming present? That didn’t have quite the same ring to it, but it was more accurate. Who could afford a house around here, anyway?
Well, his parents could, he supposed - but their duplex used to belong to Vince’s grandparents and was long paid off. The construction was old, and over the years his parents had remodeled here and there - his dad’s career as an actuary made saving up for side projects easier.
…just what an actuary did, Vince still couldn’t explain. His dad had tried to describe his job several times to Vince in the past - with little success - and not wanting to make himself look like an idiot, Vince had just stopped asking and pretended he got it.
His mom’s job was easy to understand, though - sitting at a desk all day with a headset on, answering calls from the NYPD’s non-emergency number. It was clear where his caring nature came from; he’d always seen his mother as a nurturing person, and it had rubbed off on him growing up.
She sat beside her son at the table now, her brown hair gathered up atop her head in a messy bun as she flipped through pages of magazines to help him with his art project. Aside from winkles at the corners of her blue eyes, she had a youthful glow, and that paired with her friendly nature made her just as approachable as Vince was.
“Oh honey, did you burn yourself again?” she asked with furrowed brows, reaching over to give Vince’s chin a gentle hold so she could inspect the pink streak that marred his skin just beside his lips. “One of these days you’re going to going to burn your eye out, you know that?”
Vince gave a little grin to reassure her; it wasn’t as if his fire torches went anywhere near his eyes, anyway. “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Hmm. You know what? I bet you’d make a great firefighter,” she suggested, returning her attention back to the magazine in front of her, clipping out a photo of a guitar. “As close as you get to fire without any gear on? You’re just as brave as any of those guys, believe me.”
Vince heaved a little sigh, his bright smile fading; he’d heard the suggestion before, but from his father. “Dad told you to say that, huh?” Just the possibility of having to walk into a house to find someone burned alive was enough to turn Vince off from the idea of public service. No matter how much he loved fire, he had self-awareness enough to know that he would not cut it working at a job like that.
“Oh, you know how he is,” she replied, giving a gentle defense of her husband’s reasoning. “He’s just worried about the future, Vinnie, you know that.”
“I know,” Vince granted, his gaze shifted downward as he pasted that guitar onto his collage-in-progress. He couldn’t be angry about the dismissal of his jobs, because he knew his parents cared about him. They cared a lot, which was why they were so concerned for his future. Fire-eating and retail gigs weren’t something to retire on in their eyes, but what they didn’t understand was how hard it was for him to imagine doing anything else.
That was probably why it felt so comfortable and safe with Kori, because his best friend understood his drive to perform an art and never judged him for it. Fire tricks were art, even though his commissions didn’t come with benefits or a pension. As much as he loved his parents, he couldn’t wait to be back with Kori on their own again.
Well, his parents could, he supposed - but their duplex used to belong to Vince’s grandparents and was long paid off. The construction was old, and over the years his parents had remodeled here and there - his dad’s career as an actuary made saving up for side projects easier.
…just what an actuary did, Vince still couldn’t explain. His dad had tried to describe his job several times to Vince in the past - with little success - and not wanting to make himself look like an idiot, Vince had just stopped asking and pretended he got it.
His mom’s job was easy to understand, though - sitting at a desk all day with a headset on, answering calls from the NYPD’s non-emergency number. It was clear where his caring nature came from; he’d always seen his mother as a nurturing person, and it had rubbed off on him growing up.
She sat beside her son at the table now, her brown hair gathered up atop her head in a messy bun as she flipped through pages of magazines to help him with his art project. Aside from winkles at the corners of her blue eyes, she had a youthful glow, and that paired with her friendly nature made her just as approachable as Vince was.
“Oh honey, did you burn yourself again?” she asked with furrowed brows, reaching over to give Vince’s chin a gentle hold so she could inspect the pink streak that marred his skin just beside his lips. “One of these days you’re going to going to burn your eye out, you know that?”
Vince gave a little grin to reassure her; it wasn’t as if his fire torches went anywhere near his eyes, anyway. “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Hmm. You know what? I bet you’d make a great firefighter,” she suggested, returning her attention back to the magazine in front of her, clipping out a photo of a guitar. “As close as you get to fire without any gear on? You’re just as brave as any of those guys, believe me.”
Vince heaved a little sigh, his bright smile fading; he’d heard the suggestion before, but from his father. “Dad told you to say that, huh?” Just the possibility of having to walk into a house to find someone burned alive was enough to turn Vince off from the idea of public service. No matter how much he loved fire, he had self-awareness enough to know that he would not cut it working at a job like that.
“Oh, you know how he is,” she replied, giving a gentle defense of her husband’s reasoning. “He’s just worried about the future, Vinnie, you know that.”
“I know,” Vince granted, his gaze shifted downward as he pasted that guitar onto his collage-in-progress. He couldn’t be angry about the dismissal of his jobs, because he knew his parents cared about him. They cared a lot, which was why they were so concerned for his future. Fire-eating and retail gigs weren’t something to retire on in their eyes, but what they didn’t understand was how hard it was for him to imagine doing anything else.
That was probably why it felt so comfortable and safe with Kori, because his best friend understood his drive to perform an art and never judged him for it. Fire tricks were art, even though his commissions didn’t come with benefits or a pension. As much as he loved his parents, he couldn’t wait to be back with Kori on their own again.