Lace Over My Eyes
Chapter 4: Haute Couture Crush
Kiss me, down by the broken tree house
Swing me, upon its hanging tire
Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat
We'll take the trail marked on your father's map
-Six Pence None the Richer
Isabelle was worried that she might be short on ingredients for the rice cakes this evening. The last thing she ever wanted was no supper for a promised meal. She looked over towards George, ready to tell him her concern, till she noticed he was in his own little world.
George immersed himself in his designing the moment she came into Paradise Kiss this morning. Something was on his mind to have made him work so hard but what she couldn't know.
As Isabelle pondered of George's well being, George himself worked ruthlessly over a satin dress for Apparel IV's present project. Ever since yesterday with Arashi, George's head has been bombarded with ideas nonstop. The moment he got home after dropping Arashi off he immediately began sketching out designs and planning for the construction. The rich boy didn't get an hour worth of sleep last night yet seemed as if he had been sleeping all his life till now.
"George, is that for Ms. Murray's class?" Isabella asked.
"Hm." George responded, meaning 'yes'.
"George!" Isabelle gasped. "She only assigned it to us yesterday! It's not due till the end of the month." George ignored that detail and didn't stop working. At first Isabella frowned till she smiled, knowing well this was just George's way of creativity.
It wasn't long till foot steps were heard approaching the door. Isabella heard their murmur through the walls.
"It seems Miwako is here. Oh! And her boyfriend, Arashi as well!"
George dropped his needle and looked up in surprise. He looked over his shoulder to see the door open but quickly turned away; pretending not to notice the two enter.
"Morning Isabella! George!" Miwako sang.
"Good morning Miwako. And to you to, young Arashi." Isabella smiled making Arashi shift nervously. He helped Miwako take off her coat.
"I'll be back in a sec." Arashi watched her go into the back, passing George who sat at a sewing machine. His eyes lingered on the boy who worked without noticing him. Feeling the weight of his eyes, George looked behind him but Arashi turned away. By than Miwako came back out to rescue Arashi.
"So, what do we do here?" Arashi asked as he grabbed her tiny hands into his.
"I have to get started on the evening gown project. You should too if you want to pass Ms. Murray's class." Miwako said. Arashi rolled his eyes.
"I don't know what to do! I never made an evening gown dress in my life!" Arashi sighed.
"Well than ask George to help you. He's almost finished with his." Isabella looked over at George who was looking at her in surprise. Finally, their eyes meet; causing Arashi to turn away to hide a blush. He watched Miwako cut up her fabric and begin her dress when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"So you don't know how to make a dress?" George asked coolly.
"Well, never needed to." Arashi crossed his arms making George smile.
"You're lucky I'm just about done with mine. You can bum off with one of my simple ideas while I teach you how to make one."
Arashi stood up straight and beamed at him.
"You're serious!" He exclaimed.
"But only once." George said sternly.
"Gottcha." He followed George to the couch where they began brainstorming the look of the gown. George got out his sketch book, crammed with extraordinary ideas on every inch of paper.
"Whoa! You designed all of these?" He asked while flipping through the book.
"I enjoy designing clothes." George explained.
"Yah! I can see that." He stopped at a blank page where than George handed him a black pencil. The punk stared at it before speaking up.
"What do you want me to do with this?" Arashi asked while George went back to his machine.
"Design out the dress you want to make." George answered.
"You said I can bum off one of your designs!" Arashi whined.
"I want to see your own ideas before moving to mine."
"But I don't know how."
"Common! You gotta know how to draw a pretty woman in a pretty dress." He smiled.
Arashi watched him go with his words dancing around his mind. He stared at the blank paper for the longest time before picking up the pencil to the surface. It all started with one line. Just a slender vertical line which matched the similar shape of a woman. He thought of a beautiful woman. Miwako.
After that one line, he added another and than another before these series of lines became a figure of a young girl. The dress was the epitome of girlish punk—something between Gwen Stefani and Avril Lavigne.
"Done!" Arashi ripped the paper out with as a gay cheer. He handed it to George who walked over to see what Arashi created. His blue eyes mulled over the picture causing the feisty rebel anxious for his answer.
"Okay. Let's do it." He finally said. He led Arashi to the backroom to collect some fabric. The fabric room was just a broom closet but a spacious one. Rolls of many types and colors of fabric crowded around the two. Arashi felt a little Closter phobic being around so much fabric.
"So what's going to be the color of this dress?"
"Uh?!" Arashi wasn't listening.
"Pick one." George said it shorter as he began understanding Arashi's attention span.
"Um…that one!" Arashi picked a random roll of yellow plaid. George shook his head.
"How about I choose the fabric and we can both make it."
"Okay." Arashi didn't care as long as he got an A out it. Also he wasn't so bum in having an excuse to hang around George a little more.
He left George to choose the fabric while Arashi himself went to the sewing machines. Both Isabella and Miwako were hard at work on their machines. The punk took the time to look at the place. It was an awesome hang out place no matter what you wanted to here. It's a sanctuary with a bar!
All was alright to him but when his eyes fell on the huge stereo, Arashi was in heaven.
"Check this out, Miwako!" He walked over to the stereo system and ran his fingers along the many buttons and dials. "Hey," He turned to Miwako. "Is it okay to play something on this thing?"
"I don't see any reason why not." Miwako answered as she began seam ripping.
"Alright." He turned on the stereo and instantly turned to his favorite station.
Gothic music blared out of the speakers, causing everything in the place to vibrate from its bass.
"Arashi!" Miwako called but he couldn't hear her. "ARASHI!" She screamed.
"What?!" He yelled.
The stereo was caught off. Arashi turned around and saw George pulled the plug.
"Hey!" He whined. "I was listening to that."
"But we won't." George answered.
"I'm not going to listen to gay bitchy music!" He walked right up to George's face.
"Than we'll have to pick a station with a wide variety." Arashi couldn't say no. It was the only rational thing to do. George went back to the stereo after plugging it back up and turned to a channel.
"You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy to
To save you from your old ways
You play forgiveness
Watch it now ... here he comes!"
"Oh! The Killers! Miwako loves them!" she cheeped. George looked at Arashi to see his approval.
"It's doable." He murmured while brushing past George to the machine. "Are you going to help me or not?!" George followed him and the two began making the dress.
The entire day danced past them as the two boys continued making the dress by their own hands. Isabella was the first to leave, blowing kisses to everyone before she left. An hour later, Miwako grew tired. She tried hard to wait for Arashi but he insisted that she'd not wait up.
The place was to George, Arashi, and The Killers—again. By 12:30 at night, Arashi raised his arms high and yelled.
"EURKEA! IT'S FINISHED!"
George carefully slipped the dress over a form and stood back to admire the piece of work. It came out exactly as he pictured it from Arashi's drawing.
"You like it?" Arashi asked.
"It's not my style but it's executed well." George noted.
"You love it!" Arashi boasted. "It's the best dress you made ever in your entire life. Don't lie, I can see it." He pointed at George's blue eyes. The prince tried to hide his grin.
"Stop that." He said softly, taking Arashi's finger while taking the entire hand into his own. At the moment Arashi froze. He didn't encourage nor fight for George taking his hand. He wanted it. Watching him boldly look him in the eye as he brought his hand to his supple lips, sent shivers down the punk's spine. Kiss by kiss he lightly teased the pace of Arashi's heart to flutter faster than before.
What George kissed was rough and dry but as his lips touched Arashi's delicate wrist, his skin was smooth as cool silk under his lips. He wanted to know what other areas of his body was as smooth like this. This texture attracted him more towards the blonde. The moment he kissed an inch closer up along his arm the punk panicked and tore his hand away.
"No!" He whispered harshly but something in his eyes betrayed him. Though his voice said no his body said 'yes'. George took a step forward where Arashi took two steps back until his back hit the rim of the bar countertop.
Trapped like a butterfly in a net.
With the Killers taking up all that he heard, both George and Arashi's senses were driven high on an unknown ecstasy. George grabbed on the rim, each arm on both sides of Arashi to trap him in his cage. Vulnerable, Arashi held on to the rim behind him as tight as he could. He had to hold on to something if his knees ever gave out.
George's leg brushed past Arashi's, stepping in between them as he pressed his pelvis into Arashi's. The blonde gave a longing moan deep within his throat as George purposely pushed into him. Second time was harder as George grind his hip bone along the punk's. How the prince wanted to take his arms and hold him tighter to him. So that he could pound his name into Arashi's memory, hearing it scream out as he thrust again and again. But he restrained himself to be content with grinding into the punk. Touching him would scare Arashi off as would a simple kiss.
The blonde was shaking like a newborn colt, apprehensive and frightened of what was around him. George looked at Arashi, finding him staring at their meshing hips as they both breathed deeply.
"No—stop!" Arashi rolled his head back, exposing his neck to taunt George. He yearned to hear him speak again so he pushed harder and faster into Arashi's groin. "—ah!" Again. "God!" Another. "God—fuck me!" George gripped the counter tighter, his knuckles turning white. Without a touch of skin they were racing for a climax, driving their grinding to become fast and hard.
Arashi pushed his own strength into it too while cursing softly under his breath. Pleading for God to stop George but his wishes were ignored. The prince grew impatient, he needed to touch him or he'd die right there unsatisfied. His hand reached to touch Arashi's bottom lip; running it along its velvety surface before he leaned in to kiss him.
"Stop this." Arashi turned around and broke their contact. He faced his back towards the blue haired boy, breathing in shallow breaths to settle himself down. George stepped back, breathing in the same way for the same thing. He turned around also and soon neither could look at each other. Arashi hide his face in his hands in shame and regret. Shame for turning his back on Miwako and regret for having to break this when he wanted it to last.
Neither spoke and only the Killers blared out their heartfelt poems through the room. Yet to Arashi it was nothing more than an unbearable silence. He waited there, not moving until the punk had enough of this tension. Arashi grabbed his jacket off a chair and flew out of the room.
"Arashi!" George called but Arashi ignored him. He could hear his footsteps trample down up the stairs until they were gone. By now he would be running down the empty night streets till he stopped running and threw himself against a brick wall to lean on. He would star at the lonely night sky with the fog of his breath float in the crisp clear fall air. And George would still be standing in the salon. Alone with his own thoughts of Arashi to condemn him.
And sometimes you close your eyes
and see the place where you used to live
When you were young
-the Killers
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