Isn't it Lovely? (Guy)

[OSRIC YOUNG]

Osric liked fashion. There wasn’t any particular reason why, he just did. He enjoyed shopping for clothes and paging through magazines and keeping track of the latest trends in the industry. When he was a kid, he made paper dolls to help him pick out clothes to wear every day, to see what looked good together, and there were a few times when he had considered becoming a clothes designer. He wasn’t gay, really he wasn’t, even if sometimes people thought he was when he obsessed over what outfit to wear out to a date more than his girlfriend at the time did. His father actually asked him once, “Do you like men?”

And Osric, being Osric, had replied, “Yeah, of course. All my best friends are guys, Dad, why?” After his father clarified that he meant are you attracted to men, Osric had answered no, he wasn’t, he just liked clothes. His father told him it was fine if he was anyways, as if reassuring him might make Osric admit what his father apparently believed he was. But Osric had been telling the truth. He’d never once been attracted to guys, even if he knew a hot man when he saw one. It was just that he had some qualities that gay men seemed to have been labeled generically with. It was a pain sometimes.

Osric was very peculiar when buying clothes to wear. He knew what he liked, and his style didn’t often change. He liked shirts that were tight, but not uncomfortably so. He liked things that were soft, but didn’t look too cuddly, because that was weird. He liked bracelets that were homemade (like the ones Wilson’s sister used to make him out of embroidery floss) and sometimes ones that had beads on them, but he didn’t like when necklaces had beads on them, preferring thin, simple chains, usually silver ones. He wore scarves and hats sometimes, but not baseball hats; nice ones, usually slightly vintage-looking. He hated sweatpants; he liked skinny jeans a lot, but not usually blue ones, black ones and grey ones some other colors.

He was a picky kid.

Anyone who looked through clothing magazines as much as he did eventually starts to recognize a person or two in them. So it wasn’t completely out of the question when Osric noticed a man walking on the street across the road from where he was one day when he was walking home from work and immediately knew who it was. Well, he didn’t know the man’s name, but Osric knew what he was: one of the male models who had been in various fashion magazines and catalogues that Osric had eagerly paged through over the last few years. He was one of the prettier guys.

Osric grinned and decided to say hi; it couldn’t hurt. Maybe he could get the guys autograph! That’d be awesome. Anybody who looks that good in skinny jeans and scarves had to be at least kind of awesome. Osric bounded across the street, ignoring that fact that there was no crosswalk. The cars were moving slowly because of the afternoon traffic, he’d be fine.

“Hey, mister!” Osric called out as he got to the other side safely. He happily bounded over to the other guy and gave him an admiring look. “I know you! From the magazines! Dude, you’re awesome!”

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

In Guy's never ending hate for cars and any kind of moving vehicles, he figured out the best routes to walk to get somewhere fast. Even though fast in Guy's vocabulary meant within an hour of walking. The route between the agency and his home is the one he knew best. It was the path he walked so many times in a week that he got it down to a science. He was walking away from it, from a casting call when a boy came bounding across the street at him.

Guy hated casting calls. More than anything in the modeling business, casting calls made him feel like a piece of meat. Depending on the client, all the potential models would line up, sometimes in their underwear, sometimes nude, sometimes in jeans and a t-shirt. This casting call was nude because it was going to be a nude shoot. A dozen or so of the models were lined up and inspected far too closely. The clients circled them, checked their teeth, checked them for fat on their sides. It made Guy feel like a pony up for auction.

It made him feel worse when the client took one look at him and dismissed him as too old.

“Hey, mister! I know you! From the magazines! Dude, you’re awesome!”

The boy made his way over to him, stopping in front of him with a big smile. Guy blinked and tensed, leaning away from him instinctively. This was not normal. People didn't just run up to non-famous strangers like that. Not normal at all. Perhaps he was insane. If he was insane was it a dangerous insane? Guy hoped it wasn't a dangerous insane. He was having a bad enough day as it is.

"Um...thank....what...who..."

[OSRIC YOUNG]

The man moved away from Osric slightly, looking nervous as he stuttered, "Um...thank....what...who..." He looked terribly confused. Osric wondered if perhaps this was one of those 'Normal people don't do that, Osric,' things Wilson and Hank were always pointing out to him, but they never seemed very serious about it. Still, he hoped the man would forgive him if he was overstepping some boundary he couldn't see; he was already over here and unable to take back his actions, so Osric simply continued doing what he had meant to.

He looked the man over. They were about the same height, which was nice; Osric wasn't horribly tall or anything, but the majority of people he met weren't tall-ler. But wow, he was just as good looking as he was in the catalogs. And he looked really good in what he was wearing, too, and he wasn't even modeling right now! Osric's eyes shone with excitement, admiration clear on his face. He had great respect for people who were naturally beautiful.

"Fucking hell," Osric said dramatically, breathing out as if he'd just discovered something completely unknown to human exploration. "Dude, you're just as hot as you look in the magazines, you know?" Osric grinned at him excitedly, completely unable to catch the fact that he sounded like he was trying bad pick up lines. "Definitely awesome."

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

"Dude, you're just as hot as you look in the magazines, you know? Definitely awesome."

Guy'd whole body tensed up even more, shrinking back and away from the young man. This...this was not right. People didn't come up to random people and tell them they were hot.

No.

Guy inched away from the man and rambled thanks and nonsense at him, hoping it would make sense.

This boy could be dangerous. Like a stalker or a fanatic or some political activist didn't like his alpaca sweater or something. He definitely wasn't a friend, Guy didn't really have those.

Wait...magazines? This guy recognized him from the magazines? That was...

Creepy.

[OSRIC YOUNG]

The man didn't seem too happy about spontaneous recognition, and Osric thought he could understand that, sometimes he used to not like it either, but mostly, yeah, he liked it. Then again, according to his friends he was an attention whore, and seeing as how the man in front of him moved away from Osric and nervously said a slightly jumbled thank you, he most definitely wasn't.

Oops. Crossing lines. Right.

"You're welcome. Sorry man, I didn't mean to, like, scare you," Osric said apologetically, smiling kindly, though still quite enamored with the man he was with at the moment. "But wow, sorry, you're just cool. What's your name anyway?" Osric had always through he'd looked like a Jack. That's what he called the guy in his head. But that probably wasn't his name, so Osric decided it'd be a good idea to put an actual name to the face.

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

"You're welcome. Sorry man, I didn't mean to, like, scare you."

Guy continued to just stare at the man. How did he not mean to scare him? Running up to a stranger and saying stuff like that wasn't supposed to scare him? How was he supposed to know that he wasn't a stalker or something like that? Stalkers killed people and tried to kill their stalking person...thing...all the time.

"Butwow, sorry, you're just cool. What's your name anyway?"

Guy hesitated for a very long moment. He didn't want to share his name if this guy was a stalker but if he was a stalker he probably knew his name anyway and his address, blood type, routine, phone number...

"Guy. My name's Guy." he figured that if he was a stalker, he'd already know that so it was safe to share. Not his last name though, that stayed his personal business for now.

[OSRIC YOUNG]

It took the man a minute, but he finally said, "Guy, my name's Guy."

Osric smiled, "Really?" He asked. He paused for a half second, thinking, before he added, "That's a nice name. It's... strong." He laughed a little to himself, before he glanced at his watch with a grimace, checking the time.

"Gee, sorry man, but I actually gotta run," he said apologetically, knowing that he was supposed to meet Wilson after work for dinner (well, they were gonna order pizza). He looked back up, the dopey grin still on his face as he said, "It was so cool meeting you, though! Hey, can I get your autograph? That'd be awesome."

He rummaged in his pocket to draw out the little note pad he kept with him usually, and found a pen conveniently there too (well, not exactly conveniently; he tended to nick pens from public places, like those places where there were surveys on tables and stuff). He held the two things out to Guy expectantly. He wasn't sure if Guy would take them - he did seem pretty nervous after all - but it'd be awfully cool if he did.

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

Introducing himself wasn't that horrible, not as horrible as Guy had been expecting at least. Strong? His name was strong? He didn't see it, really. It was just...Guy. Nothing strong about that. A strong name would be like Buck or Hank or Russ or something like that. Strong names made you think of strong people. Guy didn't do that, not for him at least.

He was so relieved when the man said he had to go. That meant he didn't have to find an awkward way to cut off the conversation. Guy really wasn't very good at goodbyes.

Then he asked for an autograph and held out his pen and paper.

Dirty dirty pen and paper.

"Um...uh, let me..." Guy pulled his bag closer and pulled out a notepad he kept in a ziplock baggie and then a pen that was kept in a small, airtight container. "No...just...germs. Sorry." Guy gestured to the man's pad and fumbled around, getting everything out. "Okay, so, autograph. Um...I've never...what do I write?"

[OSRIC YOUNG]

Osric watched as Guy stuttered at his request before fumbling to pull out his own notepad and pen. That were completely wrapped up and protected in plastic. Huh. Well, that was weird. Osric wondered what was wrong with his own things, but it seemed like Guy might have some sort of strange aversion to dirt, he supposed, when Guy said "No... just... germs. Sorry." Well, he could get that; he had randomly stolen the pen in the first place anyway.

"Okay, so, autograph. Um...I've never...what do I write?"

"Um..." Osric paused, thinking. He wasn't quite sure what to answer; people usually thought up what to write on their own. The ones he'd done in the past, he'd just signed his name and drew a picture of a flower or something, until Carl told him No, That's not okay, and he started drawing little animals like kittens and bunnies instead.

"Just your name, I guess," Osric said with a smile, "Whatever you want really. You're cool."