Cold days and colder hearts [Tiffany]

[olivier dominigos da silva]

Things weren't exactly going the way Olivier had hoped. He had figured, all he had to do was move from Brazil, go to the same college as Anthony and in three short months, his best friend would soon become his boyfriend. Apparently life didn't work like that – not only was his best friend involved with a girl already, but he had been involved with two. A red haired Greek and a platinum haired what-ever-she-was. And she'd been pregnant with his baby, too. Even if she lost the baby, then that meant she'd fucked him. Which meant he was interested in girls. Which meant that... there was nothing for him.

It wasn't that Oli wasn't interested in chicas, because he was. He just didn't find them as appealing as men. It was a hard thing to come to terms with. Even though his mother, as liberal and French as she was, tried to tell him to follow his dreams and to be who he was and fuck the haters – literally or figuratively, he never knew. He assumed figuratively but, then again, french – his father had been pretty strict and homophobic. Even though he had prostituted himself back in Brazil, his mother having too low of an income to support them both when his father died, in the time he'd been living in America he'd been womanizing women as much as possible, to make up for the sin in his heart, the sin of a bisexual man who wanted men more than he did women. It was rough on the male, to hate his own self, but he did whatever he could.

Today, Olivier was talking a break from his studying and programming to hang out in the park. Even though he knew California was colder than Brazil, it was still shocking how cold a Californian November could be. He pulled his jacket closer to himself, sticking his gloved hands into his pockets and shuffling side to side, desperately trying to warm himself. It could have been the wind making it this cold, unforgiving that it was. He decided to hide from the wind under a shelter – gazebo, he thought they may have been called – sitting on the wooden bench inside and pulling his knees up to his chest. A quick glance to his right caused him to blush in embarrassment, noticing the blonde boy beside him.

Now that he'd seen him, of course, it was impossible to just ignore him. That'd be rude. ”Allo,” He said awkwardly, his French-tinted Brazillian accent coming through as he spoke, ”Cold out today, is it not? I'm Olivier, but you can call me Oli.”

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[Evan Wilder]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] The nice thing about California - you know, aside from hotter people, wilder party scenes, and a higher chance of seeing celebrities on the streets - was its mild, low-fluctuating climate. Back in Nashville, the summers were scorching and the winters were freezing! Sometimes it would snow in April, and occasionally it would be seventy-five-degrees in November. Of the many things Evan Wilder didn't miss back home, its bipolar weather was certainly one of them. Today was the perfect day to sit outside and relax, enjoy the cool weather and feel the mild breeze caress his face from under a gazebo. So here he sat, with his legs kicked out and an arm slung over the backrest of the bench. This gazebo was much fancier than the ones he was used to in Nashville. Back in his hometown, people who even had a wooden one in their yard were considered very well-off, and if it were polished, hats off to them. Here in San Francisco, however, they were all painted, decked out with attractive decor, and sometimes even air-conditioned - not that an extra breeze was necessary this time of year. It was as if everything took a turn for the better once the blond Southerner left his super-conservative hometown in Tennessee and moved to California, where nearly everyone was a lot more liberalized and people could be more open about themselves without causing a scandal. And best of all, no father to push him to hunt or go camping in the great outdoors and live out of a backpack and tent for a week. While Evan was busy listing reasons California was better than Tennessee, another man ran into the gazebo and settled himself down on the wooden bench and instantly caught the blond's attention. First thought? He was hot. There, he admitted it (to himself). But Evan wasn't some sort of predator; he wasn't about to jump on him or anything like that. The boy introduced himself as Olivier - 'Oli' for short - and he seemed polite enough. Evan may not have enjoyed his time in Nashville as much as he should've, but one of the few things he retained from his Southern upbringing was southern hospitality. "Hey there, Oli. I'm Evan, Evan Wilder," he introduced with his cheeky grin that usually drove the guys and gals crazy. Something about his outward innocence appealed to the general population... There was a lot more to Evan than just his pretty face, but unfortunately, high intelligence wasn't one of his traits. Oli definitely had an accent from somewhere exotic, but in the South, there were only Southern and its sub-branches, and non-Southern. "I'm liking the accent you've got there. Where are you from?"

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[olivier dominigos da silva]

It was a hard thing to swallow, the thought that the man he was in love with would never love him back. He didn't even know how he felt about him, Anthony, and yet he'd shattered Olivier's heart into a million pieces with the rejection he'd never have to give. He was sure he'd get over it one day, but Anthony had been his first love and those don't die easy. Not by any means. The cold temperature -- though he supposed it was actually decently warm, if the reaction of the native Californians to his jacket, gloves and beanie was anything to go by -- was only making his mood worse. How he longed for the warmth of his native Brazil, or even the beauty of France those few times he got to visit. California just wasn't the same. It was all so different.

That being said, his sad mood was made better by the young man beside him. Although he seemed younger than him -- not by much, maybe a few years -- it was hard to deny the fact that, well, he was certainly attractive. Blonds had never been his thing, mostly because there weren't many of them where he was growing up, but this one made blond look good in a way that not many males could. The grin he gave him made his heart stutter, only a moment, as he introduced himself. Yes, this was a cute one. "Olivier Da Silva" Oli repeated, this time giving him a last name with his own cheeky little grin. The grin increased and turned into a full blown smile, with teeth and all, when he commented on his accent. Many people seemed to like it. "Well, I'm from Sao Paulo, which is za capital of Brazil, but my mama's from France, so I got a bit of bot' za French accent and za Brazillian one. Neat, huh? You go to za college, Evan? I sink I've seen ya'round sere once or twice. Or maybe it's anoser cute blond." Now, why had he added the cute part? His cheeks reddened, eyes widening in mild panic. Oh. That was just perfect.

"A-Anyways," He stammered, trying to change the subject quickly, "I'm in Game Design myself. Lots of money, and I love video games so why not, right? What about you?" He shuffled his feet nervously, laughing a little. "Y'know, most people sink I speak Spanish -- well, I do, but Spanish isn't za language spoke in Brazil. It's actually Portuguese. Ya could say I'm quadlingual, cause I speak Spanish, French, Portuguese and English. English is my favourite, zo, because it's se language sat most people speak."

[Evan Wilder]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] As soon as he spotted the wide grin growing on Oli's face, the blond boy knew his words had hit its target right where he aimed them. Just seeing the smile on the angelic face was enough to make Evan almost melt, but he knew he couldn't just fall into this guy's arms, not when they had only now learned each other's names! Well, that never stopped him before with other guys and gals back in Nashville, but that was besides the point. The Southern boy listened in as Oli talked a bit about his origins; he was Brazilian, with some French on his mom's side and that was how he got his unique accent. Soon enough, it was Evan's turn to talk, as Oli switched the roles around so that the blond was the one elaborating on himself. His eyebrows perked up upon catching the Brazilian hottie calling him a 'cute blond.' The reddening blush that flushed his cheeks was adorable and it made him want to hang around longer. Evan threw him a wicked grin, silently and playfully letting Oli know he'd caught him, but decided to spare him from any further embarrassment - for now... "So you're from Brazil? Awesome! I've always wanted to visit! But the only city in Brazil I knew about was Rio; I guess slacking off in Geography didn't do much good for me, huh?" Evan began with a jest. "But yeah, I've been here for a little over a year now. I'm a Sophomore now, and I came here from Nashville, Tennessee; it's this big city in the South and it's really big on Country music. Actually, I think it might be the home of the Country genre," he chuckled. It was so typical of Evan to not know much about his own hometown and its famous music. He'd never gotten into the Country craze, went to hoedowns and camping trips, held straw in his teeth, or any of those stereotypical Southern things. He'd always been more of a Western urban kind of guy. Evan wasn't a very observant guy - kinda came with the whole 'not-so-bright' thing of his - but it didn't take a genius to see Oli was a little nervous. The way he shuffled his feet, stuttered a little, and let his eyes wander, his nerves were nearly tangible. Curious to see how the tanned boy not too far from him would react, the Nashville native scooted himself a bit closer to Oli and kept his arm draped along the backrest of the bench, his irresistible cheeky grin still in place. "What guy doesn't enjoy money and a good game? Sounds like a sweet way to go about," remarked the blond with a smile. "I'm majoring in Advertisement Marketing. I didn't really have a plan in mind when I picked it. Just kinda went with it, hoping it was the right field for me. I'm good at persuasion; I do well with selling, so I thought 'why not?'" Oli spoke some more about his heritage, revealing he was quadrilateral- er, quadlingual. There were a few things Evan could easily dispel. The 'Dumb Blond' stereotype wasn't one of them. As much as he'd have loved to get rid of the generalization, it wasn't easy for a person born pretty but not so intellectual. However, an opportunity arose for him to prove himself smarter than he looked when Oli pointed out that the official language spoken in Brazil wasn't Spanish, but was, in fact... "Brazilian!" "It's actually Portuguese." Sh*t

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[olivier dominigos da silva]

One had to remember, of course, that this Olivier wasn't all sweet and shy all the time. Though his job as a prostitute wasn't the most appealing to the Brazillian man, it certainly brought to mind all the sexual possibilities, and at that exact moment the only thing running through his mind was throwing the beautiful blond down on the ground and dancing a dance as old as time, hearing him cry out his name with that delightful southern accent of his, hear him beg for his release...

Oops. With a wild blush, the male carefully crossed his left leg over his right, placing his folded hands down in his lap inconspicuously, silently willing his body to calm down and dear lord do not think of what his sweaty skin would feel like, or how it would feel to have him whisper and nibble along his neck. Those were bad thoughts, sinful ones, but god were they delicious. He was glad for distraction as the conversation once more turned to his homeland, a slightly-strained chuckle leaving his lips when the blond mentioned Rio. “Is okay, don't worry. I assume most people only know of Rio, as of sat movie wit' se birds, you know? Se one wit' Anne Hasaway. Nah, I'm from Sao Paulo, se capital of se country. Big city.” He grinned, “I don't believe I have heard much country music, sadly, but I do enjoy your accent. Muy bueno, my papa would say. Very nice. Tres bien, mon mere would say it.” He babbled endlessly, still struggling with his stupid biological reactions as he shifted awkwardly once more, licking his lips nervously.

Things only got worse for the French Brazillian as the blond (stupidly) decided to scoot right over, allowing Olivier to catch his scent. Everyone had a scent, though they weren't always aware of it. Olivier could usually tell if he would like this person by their scent – if they smelled good, then he was going to like them, if not... then he probably wouldn't. Anthony said it was because of pheromones. All Oli knew was that the scent of the blond beside him served to only arouse him more. A small groan left his lips and his hand moved of it's own accord to the blond's thigh. Jerking back as if he'd been shocked, his eyes widened in panic and he scooted away, lest he make any more bold moves. ”I'm so sorry! Desole!” He exclaimed in near panic, cheeks flushed in utter mortification. ”My hand... it has a mind of it's own sometimes.”

Olivier wasn't oblivious. He could tell when someone was... what was a polite way to put it? A few hens short of a coop? A few bricks short of a load? A few eggs short of a loaf? What he meant to say was, he could tell when someone was, well, kinda dumb. Unfortunately, it seemed that Evan Wilder was one such person. It didn't mean Olivier liked him any less, he just knew that he was likely going to end up having to be patient with this one if he wanted a friendship (with benefits, please, dear lord) with this man. He couldn't help but giggle at the dismayed reaction on the blond's face when he realized he was wrong about Brazillian being a language, his arousal momentarily forgotten. ”Aww, don't worry, plenty of people make sat error. It isn't just you.” Well, that wasn't necessarily true, he had never heard another person make that error ever, but he couldn't tell him that. It wouldn't be polite, and it'd hurt his self esteem. So, he lied instead, and gave him a small smile.

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[Evan Wilder]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] After a moment, something in Olivier changed and he began to act rather nervous for a minute. Now, Evan wasn't easily able to tell what poked at people, but he could guess that the handsome boy beside him wasn't creeped out but rather something else. Something involuntary. Something-... oh. By the way the Brazilian man crossed his legs and let out a nervous, somewhat forced chuckle, Evan knew his suspicions were on the right track. Well, he couldn't say he was completely surprised. This country boy was fully aware of his pretty-boy looks and sex appeal, and to be honest, if Oli hadn't acknowledged that, even by his subtle body language, it would've been a blow to the blond's self-confidence. When an attractive man lacked remotely commendable intelligence, the only thing he could truly rely on was his head-turning presence, his southern boy charm, and his ability to get his lover groaning and squirming underneath him as the Nashville native showed off his natural gift for riding. It was only the sudden, yet oh-so divine, touch of Oli's hand on his thigh that brought the blond out of his brief, passionate moment of thought. A boyish grin quickly appeared on his face as he chuckled. Clearly, Evan wasn't the only one whose mind had been elsewhere, somewhere intimate. "Hey, thanks, man," quipped the southern boy, playfully patting the Brazilian's shoulder. "But really, don't worry about it." Glossy green eyes lit up in relief, and he let out a visible sigh, thanking his lucky stars that Oli managed to excuse what would definitely be the first of countless instances of stupidity that Evan would slip on when around the irresistible man. Not only was Oli smoking hot, but he really found a way to preserve some of the southerner's self-confidence in his meager intellect. Most of the girls and guys he'd gotten to know over time preferred to laugh at him and pretend to only jokingly tease him. It was probably why others wanted him as a casual partner rather than a long-lasting boyfriend. The fact that Oli barely knew him, yet treated him so differently, more respectfully, made Evan grin cheekily. The only other person who didn't make him feel unintelligent was his mother, but it had been so, so long since he'd last seen her. One thing that redeemed Evan from his lack of impressive intelligence, aside from his killer good looks, was his ability to swallow his pride and admit to his dim wit, which he'd been fully aware of ever since he could talk. He had truly believed rainbows consisted of billions of Skittles - why else would they say 'taste the rainbow' during every commercial for the brand? - before he took Environmental Science during Twelfth Grade, and he had been under the impression eggplants were eggs on a leaf until last year, when he ordered one at some local restaurant and realized it was actually just some purple thing with a leaf on top and tasted nothing like an egg. He cleared his throat as he finally managed to utter a few more words to the person who was no doubt waiting to hear something from him. "So, Oli..." He left his mouth open as he brainstormed for something to say. He really hadn't thought ahead; actually, he never really liked to think all that much, in general. "Um, if a person wears glasses, but takes them off when they go to bed, do they dream in blurry vision?" Well, that was stupid, but it was better than nothing.

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made by hay shay @ caution!

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