Brock stopped at the entrance of the bedroom and leaned against the door frame. Staring ahead, he slowly backed up. He wasn't ready to go to bed yet, he never even got the chance to explore Brian's house yet. Backing away from the room, he rested his weight on the wall as he walked down the hallway. Looking around, he noticed more of Brian's artwork. Smiling slightly, he continued walking until he reached the end. Opening the door in front of him, he looked around. If he was sober, he would have been horrified. The room was terribly messy, he stepped inside. He knew this had to be the other's room.
His bed was unkempt, there were dirty clothes strewn about, a desk was shoved in the corner with works in progress, and in the middle of the room? There was an easel with a man on it, a man that looked like Brock. He couldn't help but to let his eyes wander, and he stepped deeper into the room. Everything about it was centric to Brian, and Brock thought it was an accurate depiction of his character. As he got to the middle of the room, he noticed his book on Brian's nightstand, lying open, pages all dogeared. So he really had been reading it? Brock was shocked if he were being honest with himself.
"Did you get lost?" Brian's Irish lilt brought him out of his thoughts, and he jumped if only slightly.
"Um," He could feel his face burning as he turned around to look at the younger man. "No… I'm just nosy I guess." He added with a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He noticed the glass of water and aspirin in Brian's hand, and he was thankful for it in that moment. "The aspirin." He pointed his finger to it before taking a step forward to grab it. "It's much appreciated, thank you." Nodding to himself, he brushed passed Brian to head back to the guest room. It was definitely embarrassing getting caught. He paused at the door and looked at the confused man. "Um, goodnight?" He inquired.
"Goodnight." Brian nodded.
Turning into the room, Brock quickly shut the door. Moving over to his bed, he sat down and stared at the water and pills. Taking a big chug of the water, he swallowed down the pills with ease. Before laying down in the bed, he sent Nogla a quick text letting him know that he was with Brian, and that he was okay. After that? Brock found himself staring at the ceiling unable to fall asleep. He'd made an ass of himself, he'd yelled at Brian, and not only that, but he'd embarrassed himself too. He figured any chances that he'd had with the younger man were long gone. An hour passed, then two, and it was unbearably late. He couldn't sleep at all. And it didn't help that he knew Brian was awake. He could hear soft music coming from the living room, and he wondered if the Irishman was painting again, just like the first time he had stayed here.
Like always, curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself venturing out into the hallway. The air smelled of coffee and dried paint, and when he saw Brian relaxed on the couch and watching TV, he couldn't help but to smile. He had paint disheveled in his hair, spots on his face and clothes. He must have had just finished. Brock watched as he brought a coffee mug to his lips and sipped gingerly. "Don't you ever sleep?" The older man asked as he fully walked into the living room.
Brian laughed and sat his mug down on the coffee table beside him. "Don't you?" He countered.
Brock shook his head, "Not when I know I've made an ass of myself."
"You were drunk… Hell, you might even still be drunk." He replied with another chuckle.
Brock took a seat next to him and looked over his painting that he had finished, it wasn't the one that was in his room. This time, it was scenery. "I think thinking about my life was enough to sober me up." He sat back and glanced up at the ceiling. He didn't really know what to say, now he just felt awkward about everything. He'd embarrassed himself to no end, and it really was safe to say that he wouldn't be drinking for awhile now.
Brian must have noticed his pause because he turned with a smile. "Oh, by the way. I never expected you to be an erotica romance writer." He said, giving the older man a small elbow to the side. Which was true in itself. He had never expected Brock to have such a way with words and being able to explain a love scene so well. It was a little ironic to say the least, considering how awkward Brock was about everything… Brian wondered if he wrote from experience.
However, Brock's troubling thoughts quickly vanished, he became embarrassed once more. That was not what he wanted to talk about with the other. Not this topic. "Yeah?" He asked shyly. "Did I at least do a good job?"
"Well it's better than 50 Shades of Grey," He countered with a mischievous glint in his eyes, causing Brock to duck his head in embarrassment. "Honestly though, it's great..." He trailed off. "I just never expected that kind of thing from you." He continued. Albeit he'd only known Brock for a few weeks, he was the shy type, and he definitely got that vibe from him.
"It's always the quiet ones," He joked, stifling a yawn.
"Your new book is going to be the same, yeah?" The Irishman asked.
"Not unless I get that inspiration." He explained before his cheeks grew hot. "To write the book, not the sex scenes!" He corrected, only embarrassing himself more. God, he was always the awkward type. He should really think before opening his mouth. This was a wonderful example of what he meant.
Brian only laughing, thinking it was beyond hilarious. "Well, if the writing thing doesn't work out, you could always be a comedian. I'd pay to see it." He said, laughing more. Brock's red face wasn't making it any better. He slapped his hand onto his shoulder and smiled. "It's just a little sex, everyone does it." He set his easel down before standing up. "Well, I think I'm going to head to bed. Feel free to think about your inspiration, I'll be in my room." He said, bidding the older man a goodnight before walking down the hall.
Brock remained on the couch, watching the Irishman leave to his bedroom. Sitting there, he sighed softly to himself. He had to tell Brian how he felt, that had to make him feel better. Maybe just getting it off his chest would be enough to make him stop going this crazy. Sure the other could and probably would reject his feelings, at least he would know how the his feelings were. But just sitting here and thinking about it, he was driving himself insane. After this sculpture thing, he would definitely confess to him.
Sitting there for a bit longer, he got up and headed back to the guest room. He should at least get some rest so he could do this art thing with him when the morning finally came. Brock got into the bed and found that he still couldn't sleep, which was odd for him. He usually never had sleeping issues like this, and he'd been fine the first time he'd stayed at Brian's house. Maybe it was his nerves, but he didn't know. However, he didn't go to sleep until the sun came up. When he did finally wake up, hours later, it was to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and clay. Of course Brian would be up and at it already, he came off as a morning person. But Brock sat up, stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before getting out of bed. Scratching the back of his head, he headed into the living room to see that Brian really was at it. "How do you possibly manage?" He asked through a yawn.
Brian glanced up and smiled at the tired man in front of him, "Good morning to you too." He looked back down at his clay, "It takes a bit to get all this stuff ready." He explained, slapping his hand down on the gray substance.
Brock nodded slowly, "Hey, if it's not too much of a bother, can I take a shower before I do this?" He asked. "I feel disgusting." Usually after getting drunk, he felt this way. The liquor and beer smell was still on him, and if he was going to be close with Brian, he'd really rather not smell of alcohol.
The other nodded, his attention still below him. "Sure, take as long as you need. Do you need to borrow some shorts or anything?" He asked. "I'm sure I have something you can wear." He added.
Brock nodded, "I appreciate it."
"Just look in my dresser, I'm sure I have something somewhere. But just borrow shorts. I need you shirtless for this thing." He ordered. Brock gave him an odd look, but the younger man never pulled his eyes away from the clay he was working on. Shirtless? Now he had to have been just fucking with him, right? However, Brock decided not to think about it and headed to the tiny bathroom to shower and clear his thoughts. Lowkey, he was a little excited, but he was nervous too. He wondered just what tricks Brian had pulled up his sleeves, and he was curious like no other. But the shower helped him clear his mind, and once he was finished, he wrapped a towel around his lower half, and headed into Brian's messy bedroom to search for some shorts.
His dark eyes searched for the dresser before he spotted it in the corner of the room. Making sure his towel was secure, he walked over and began looking for something that would fit him. Brian was much more slim that Brock, so he hoped he'd find something decent. After rummaging around for a bit, he finally found a pair that were decent enough to put on. They were black, and thin fabric, and when Brock put them on, he realized how tight they were. This was ridiculous, and honestly, something that really would only happen in a fucking romance novel. But nonetheless, it was all Brian had, and because he was so much bigger than the Irishman, this pair would be his best bet.
Shyly, after drying off his torso, he headed back into the living room. "I uh… I think I'm ready now." Brock got out, catching Brian's attention. The younger man looked up from the clay he was working his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Brock was so beautiful, and even more toned than he thought. This little sculpture, or whatever he was doing, was going to take a lot of time to perfect the kind of immaculate detail that was Brock. He let out a low whistle, and he swore that Brock's cheeks got even darker. Brian found it cute that he thought he was embarrassed. He decided not to comment on his appearance, or the tightness of his shorts, or that might worsen things. "Where do you want me?" Brock inquired.
"The couch is fine." Brian replied, gesturing to the piece of furniture in front of him. "I'm not done working the clay yet so it'll be a few more minutes." He added, going back to his ministrations. It had to be just right for sculpting. And suddenly, with Brock sitting in front of him, dark eyes on him working the clay, he grew impeccably nervous. It had been such a long time since he sculpted, and he hoped and prayed that he would be able to do Brock's body justice.