He had not been planning on coming.

[break][break] After all, the going-ons of the League had little interest to him, increased further more by the fact that - as news would have it - that such a party was open to the public. Perhaps if it was a party contained to the upper echelon of the League, Luciano would have had more interest.

[break][break] 'You can't come?'

[break][break] 'Ah - that's alright. You're busy! No worries, then.'

[break][break] Around the kitchen island, Luciano had looked curiously at paxton concordas , hair-mussed from their late night efforts, and had considered if the pouting puppy look of his not-boyfriend was worth consoling.

[break][break] But no, work came first. The gallery had a opening of his latest sculptures, and this was the season in which that Luciano had prepared to show them off. In fact, Luciano should have been more peeved that paxton concordas 's work precluded him from joining his event.

[break][break] But Alas. Sometimes, that was just the way the wheel turned.

[break][break]
[break][break]

But his event had ended early.

[break][break] And the site of a disappointed Concord had been burned into mind, perhaps permenantly forever. It had only taken a full strings to pull for Luciano to get out of his event earlier, including calling in a favor from Ciprina Fisk .

[break][break] She'd tease him about it incessantly later.

[break][break] But he'd deal with that when the time came.

[break][break]
[break][break]

Luciano appeared at the event with a small white box tucked into his coat pocket. According to the event's description, or at least how paxton concordas had explained it to him, the formality of the event was mild at best. Luciano considered pulling out one of his suits, but found that a winter turtleneck and light blue peacoat was enough. After all, perhaps a regular person needed the fanciful nature of formal clothing to drape around them like a gaudy centerpiece. But a Fisk?

[break][break] luciano fisk at that? Needed no such thing.

[break][break] Starlight sparkled behind his mind's eye as he stepped into the venue, temporarily memorialized by the lackluster lighting and annoying festive music that trickled in through the speakerset. In the center of Mossdeep Observatory was a telescope that - admittingly - looked quite dazzling, but that was not his interest. Deep blue eyes swept the corridor in a grand gesture, looking for only one man in particular.

[break][break] And he found him.

[break][break] Kissing another man.

[break][break] "paxton concordas ."

[break][break] The pleasantly neutral expression on his face vanished instantaneously, only replaced by frigid ice. His voice was barely above normal volume, though his tone cut cleanly across the open space.

[break][break] He stood a few feet away from the bar's rowdy inhabitants, gaze cutting immediately to the sight of paxton concordas sticking his tongue down some other man's throat.

[break][break] His jaw locked.

[break][break] Furious.

[break][break] "What are you doing?"

[break][break] And behind the gleam of fury in his ice-blue gaze was the unmistakable glimmer of hurt.

[break][break] Agony.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
OUTFIT

luciano is an artist. everything he does, everything he says, always seems to be with the utmost intention. even if he is not the one who thinks about his actions, it always seems as if others are.

[break][break] the tenderness in which he touches paxton is the same tenderness in which he strokes paint to canvas, the same careful dexterity of when he knocks away pieces of stone to cultivate beauty in sculpture.

[break][break] but when he claims paxton concordas as his, there is nothing tender about it.

[break][break] nothing soft.

[break][break] the moment they meet, luciano kisses him with the intensity of a man starved. his lips presses insistently against the other man's own, opening his mouth to paxton's discovery. a hand grips that sharp-lined jaw with certainty, pressing closer and closer, even as the flowers are pressed between them. his tongue slips in between soft lips, licking into his mouth with all the expertise of a painter's strokes.

[break][break] he seeks, and seeks, and seeks.

[break][break] luciano does not care they are in public. he does not care they are indecent.

[break][break] he does not care —

[break][break] because this has been a decade in the making and arceus if he would let anything - anyone - get in the middle of it.

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
sleepless in slateport [break][break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dragonair"]

there are very few things in luciano's life that he thinks deeply about — most of what he does, most of how he behaves, is based on pure instinct. it is how his family taught him to behave, and how he was able to make a career as lucrative as his own. the artist's pull tugs him forward, tells him who to speak to and when, how to brush the strokes of his paint brush onto multicolor canvas.

[break][break] but concord.

[break][break] for years and years and years, he had obssessively thought about the other man. whether he wanted to or not, paxton concordas had infiltrated his dreams like a master sleuth. slipping into the places that luciano had left unturned, into the cracks of his heart left broken by the likes of noemi and antain.

[break][break] by the likes of michaelis' death.

[break][break] the skin underneath his palms feel warm to the touch as he cups paxton's face. gently, tenderly, like touching the petals of the peonies that lay between them.

[break][break] the ruddy blush that dusts his face, those soft blue eyes. paxton concordas looks like an artwork, just like this.

[break][break] "paxton," he murmured, a thumb brushing against the man's lower lip. "please."

[break][break] 'believe me.'

[break][break] 'don't lie to me.'

[break][break] 'stop talking.'

[break][break] leaning down, luciano kissed him.

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
sleepless in slateport [break][break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dragonair"]

luciano was good at ignoring things. it was a skill harnessed by years of being born with a silver spoon, of being under noemi's and antain's influence. anything needless, useless, irrelevant to their needs — it was simply ignored.

[break][break] as one of their eldest, and a child who had always made it a point to appease them, luciano knew how to wield it's power as easy as breathing.

[break][break] 'you seemed comfortable ignoring it.'

[break][break] the heat in luciano's gaze is wiped in an instant. it is if paxton concordas had reached forward and placed a hand at his chest.

[break][break] ignoring it? was that what he had been doing?

[break][break] "concord —"

[break][break] 'you mean the world to me.'

[break][break] as if lightning struck him, he froze.

[break][break] ocean blue eyes of anger sweep over into pools of stillness, warmth and comfort rising in his eyes like morning tide. concord still cared about him. paxton still cared.

[break][break] he leans forward them, hands sliding against the other's face.

[break][break] "concord," he murmured. "paxton."

[break][break] "that is all i wanted to hear."

[break][break] "you are unlike anyone i have ever met."

[break][break] "don't you see? you mean the world to me too."

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
sleepless in slateport [break][break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dragonair"]

"need me to?" he says, and the quiet hurt his gone from his face and replaced by sneering mockery. the kind of eloquent scorn that only the elite of the elites were capable of, the aristocrats of the world, the fisks of the world.

[break][break] when he speaks, it was the high-profile ridicule that only a fisk was capable of bearing.

[break][break] that noemi was capable of.

[break][break] sinnoh's greatest sauntered forward towards paxton concordas , until he was towering over him.

[break][break] "did you think you were doing me a favor? by lying to me?"

[break][break] 'how foolish could you be?'

[break][break] "do you think so little of me?"

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
sleepless in slateport [break][break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dragonair"]

"you care about me?"

[break][break] a laugh breaks from his throat, and it is not kind.

[break][break] mocking, as if he is talking to one of his competitors at the art gallery. mocking, as if he is talking to a member of the paparazzi. a stranger.

[break][break] "you played me for a fool! how long were you planning on letting this ruse go on? how long were you planning on lying?"

[break][break] concord says he didn't lie, but it is impossible for luci to see it any other way. how many days, weeks, months had gone by for concord to keep this secret from him, for concord to not tell him such a vital part of his life.

[break][break] 'i thought you simply preferred concord.'

[break][break] it is like a knife gutting into his spine. because he did. he did prefer it. concord, the name that had been in his head for the last decade of time.

[break][break] concord apologizes, but the artist does not budge. he is not willing - not yet- to let it go.

[break][break] but his gaze turns from withering ice to stone cold, anger eroding if only slightly.

[break][break] "tell me," he says softly. "tell me how long you were planning on going on before you were going to tell me."

[break][break] "concord."

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
sleepless in slateport [break][break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dragonair"]

if there is one thing, beyond his prestige, that luciano has inherited from his family's throne, it is his obsession for control. for his need to simply know, no matter what it was, at any given time. he did not take kindly to being left out of the loop, no matter what the reason.

[break][break] "you're still what?" he says, not even giving the other room to breathe. a lesser person may have hesitated, may have let the silence between them grow wider and wider. someone else may have run away.

[break][break] but when luciano, esteemed artist and sculptor, noemi's son, turns to him — it's with lightning flashes and crackling thunder, spinning onto the other with the withering glare of his mother's own ire.

[break][break] "what is there to explain?"

[break][break] "you lied to me, con- paxton. after everything. you did not trust me with your secret, not enough to tell me before you were found out."

[break][break] "how do you imagine i could ever trust you again?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
sleepless in slateport [break][break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dragonair"]

why was he upset? luci could not place it. he did not know. an angry flush rises to his face as he stalks out of the restaurant, the cool air blasting against his face as he opens those restaurant doors.

[break][break] 'this is impossible. i am not upset. i am not - '

[break][break] he huffs his breath, eyes hard as he stares at the open square just outside the bistro. romantic kantonian music trickles in from the inside, but all luci can hear is white noise. all luci can hear is the sounds of luci's card sliding across the bartable, the imprinting of his name, the lie that he has been told.

[break][break] 'how long has he been lying to me?'

[break][break] the door blasts open and paxton concordas appears. luci's head snaps towards him, his eyes a swelling tidepool of vicious blue.

[break][break] "wait?" he says haughtily. "for what?"

[break][break] "for you to lie to me again, con- paxton?"

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
sleepless in slateport [break][break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dragonair"]

anyone in the fisk family, especially the likes of mint frost, would know that luciano's anger was nothing to dismiss. he shared his mother's penchant for ice-cold anger, the kind that is cool and subtle and yet can freeze over like nevermeltice when left unattended.

[break][break] but he is not angry. he is not mad.

[break][break] he is still.

[break][break] "your legal name?" he echoes.

[break][break] behind them, the chatter of the restaurant continues on. it is almost as if nothing is amiss. two men sharing drinks at a bar before they are to share pleasantries over dinner. some might even say there is a smile on luciano's face.

[break][break] "i've been going by Paxton for a few years now."

[break][break] until that smile drops.

[break][break] he releases the hand, and his lip turns into a frown. his eyes narrow, and then it is crackling ice.

[break][break] "when are you going to stop lying to me, concord?"

[break][break] without another word, luci turns on his heel. exiting the restaurant completely without another word.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] paxton concordas [break]
sleepless in slateport [break][break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dragonair"]