He's either going to freak out or throw up, he hasn't quite decided and though he's outwardly collected it's enough that if a person looks close enough they'll notice he's severely out of place.
It's a nice little club that Ryan's never been to and truth be told it's not really anything he would have picked on his own. He's not legally old enough to drink but that doesn't stop him from sitting at the bar with his eyes glued to his phone, frantically texting his twin.
It had been Sharpay's idea, actually, to accept the date from the boy in his composition class. His name was Alex and he'd been sitting in the seat directly to Ryan's right all semester. He'd noticed the type of music coming out of Ryan's iPhone a few weeks ago and struck up conversation about the New York music scene, and yesterday in class he'd suggested that Ryan meet him at this club to listen to this local band that's actually really good.
He tried to tell Sharpay it wasn't a date, but somehow the girl had twisted it and built it up in his head that it was.
So yeah. Ryan's not even particularly dressed for a club though the tight jeans and pinstripe vest sort of helped a little. His clothes cling to him like a second skin and his hat's tilted just enough to shield his face as long fingers fly over the keys.
Alex was supposed to show up fifteen minutes ago.
He hears someone address him directly though and his hands pause even if he doesn't look up immediately. At East, he always knew when he had people's attention. In New York, it was hard to say who was talking to who, but Ryan's the only other person at the bar besides the girl next to him (whose girlfriend apparently can't remember to clean her hair out of the shower drain if her life depended on it.) Blue eyes flick up from the screen to meet Elliot's face, ready to snap back something a little closed off when he gets a closer look.
...it doesn't help that he has a thing for brunettes. It also doesn't help that his eyes are a brighter blue than Ryan's. Are men allowed to look that good with make-up? What if he tried that? The most he's ever gotten away with is stage make-up that's not nearly as dramatic.
It takes him a few moments to remember what the question was and when he does he promptly feels that flustered sensation grip him.]
Please. Do I look like someone who gets stood up?
[Ohgodwhywouldhesaythat. It's defensive enough that he hopes to get the point across that he's not, in fact, some loser whose possible date hasn't shown up yet, but it's just loose enough to reveal he doesn't quite believe it himself.
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momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2015-01-15 11:27 am (UTC)He's either going to freak out or throw up, he hasn't quite decided and though he's outwardly collected it's enough that if a person looks close enough they'll notice he's severely out of place.
It's a nice little club that Ryan's never been to and truth be told it's not really anything he would have picked on his own. He's not legally old enough to drink but that doesn't stop him from sitting at the bar with his eyes glued to his phone, frantically texting his twin.
It had been Sharpay's idea, actually, to accept the date from the boy in his composition class. His name was Alex and he'd been sitting in the seat directly to Ryan's right all semester. He'd noticed the type of music coming out of Ryan's iPhone a few weeks ago and struck up conversation about the New York music scene, and yesterday in class he'd suggested that Ryan meet him at this club to listen to this local band that's actually really good.
He tried to tell Sharpay it wasn't a date, but somehow the girl had twisted it and built it up in his head that it was.
So yeah. Ryan's not even particularly dressed for a club though the tight jeans and pinstripe vest sort of helped a little. His clothes cling to him like a second skin and his hat's tilted just enough to shield his face as long fingers fly over the keys.
Alex was supposed to show up fifteen minutes ago.
He hears someone address him directly though and his hands pause even if he doesn't look up immediately. At East, he always knew when he had people's attention. In New York, it was hard to say who was talking to who, but Ryan's the only other person at the bar besides the girl next to him (whose girlfriend apparently can't remember to clean her hair out of the shower drain if her life depended on it.) Blue eyes flick up from the screen to meet Elliot's face, ready to snap back something a little closed off when he gets a closer look.
...it doesn't help that he has a thing for brunettes. It also doesn't help that his eyes are a brighter blue than Ryan's. Are men allowed to look that good with make-up? What if he tried that? The most he's ever gotten away with is stage make-up that's not nearly as dramatic.
It takes him a few moments to remember what the question was and when he does he promptly feels that flustered sensation grip him.]
Please. Do I look like someone who gets stood up?
[Ohgodwhywouldhesaythat. It's defensive enough that he hopes to get the point across that he's not, in fact, some loser whose possible date hasn't shown up yet, but it's just loose enough to reveal he doesn't quite believe it himself.
Fuck.]