Ezra Fell was currently in a panic, and he wasn't certain why. Well, that wasn't quite right… he knew why he was anxious - he had dinner with Gabriel Arch in about an hour - but he wasn't sure why he was upset. After all, they'd been dating for… for… well, for so many years that Ezra couldn't even remember the time beforehand.
Gabriel was… well, he was perfect, in nearly every possible way. He was everything Ezra wasn't. Tall and handsome, he had barely a trace of fat on his body, and his eyes - so blue they looked nearly violet - were striking. Ezra knew he was lucky to have attracted Gabriel's attention, but, at this point, he didn't question it. After all, he was popular in his own right - had been before Gabriel had even looked in his direction - and they'd been together for so long that it was inconceivable to consider any other possibility.
No, Ezra shouldn't have been nervous… But he was, and he couldn't quite calm himself down. He'd been pacing back and forth in his bedroom for the past hour, the knot in his stomach churning with each step he took. He could hear the muffled sounds of other college students outside, but it had been easy enough to tune them out until now. Now, they were becoming oppressively loud and he had to get away. Immediately.
After all, Ezra had the unshakable feeling that Gabriel was going to propose. To him. At dinner. Tonight. And that… that was terrifying. He didn't even have a suitable outfit, which was unforgivable; after all, etiquette was important, and showing up in a ratty old white and beige ensemble that he'd worn three times was not proper etiquette for dinner, let alone for what might be a proposal dinner. No, he had to go shopping.
Unfortunately, his friends already knew his suspicions, and they were bound to swarm him if he dared to even poke his head out the door. Instead, he headed to the window and slid it open, wincing at the loud crack of sticky paint breaking in the process. He'd developed the escape route in an effort to sneak into the library after curfew, and now it was paying off.
By the time he'd reached the ground, his ratty beige and white ensemble that he'd already worn three times was a tad dirty, a little ripped, and quite possibly covered in tree sap, but it didn't matter. Having something - anything - to do beyond his four bland walls was liberating, and doing something productive only heightened that sensation. On the other hand, the twisting in his gut had worsened, as it did every time he broke the rules, and he felt like he might actually be sick. It was all he could do to take a few steadying breaths and get moving.
The mall wasn't exactly what was widely considered stylish, but it was cosy and comfortable. No harsh lights shone from the ceiling, and it was neither too crowded nor too sparse, striking a decent balance between the two. If Ezra was honest, it was more of a home than anywhere else. It never failed to calm him down, and now was no exception; the second he'd stepped inside, he felt more serene, peaceful in a way that he'd only found elsewhere when reading a particularly good book.
Finding the right clothing was… difficult, to say the least. It had to be something in his colours - white and cream had long become his trademark - but it couldn't seem nuptial. He didn't want to force Gabriel's hand, much less seem overeager or look like he'd predicted it. Gabriel was naturally proud; he'd need Ezra to seem surprised.
The outfits he found were subpar. The first seemed too small - Gabriel was always talking about Ezra's gut… both of them knew that he was a little on the plump side, so the last thing he needed was to emphasise that - while the second was stained. Another was too big, and he didn't need to give his shorter stature any additional prominence either.
Before long, his usual calm of shopping was strained, and it had become less about having fun and more about his flaws. They'd already seemed numerous before now, so the last thing he needed was to be reminded of them with every change of clothing.
Hours of hunting and changing and folding later, Ezra heard the familiar voices of his friends as they walked through the front doors. Carmen was the first one he heard, as usual. "-ere he is!" The others started talking, too, but it all devolved into meaningless noise at that point.
Ezra was saved from having to piece together what they were saying by the appearance of a woman from the store. Her name tag read "Harriet", and Ezra got a brief glimpse of short, bobbed brunette hair and a sensible pants suit before she was thrusting a beige tartan suit at him. Ezra had already dismissed it - there was a visible stain from something on the hem, and the beige was an ugly colour - before he registered her words. "You might consider this, sir… It's fresh from our newest shipment, if you'd care to take a look?"
Ezra tilted his head in faux interest. "This is fresh off the rack?" She nodded. "And is this a genuine tartan pattern?" Another nod, but less confident now. "My dear woman, I'm afraid that you are… Well, you're incorrect."
The woman's previously calm face turned affronted. "Excuse me?"
"With all due respect, this particular pattern is not a proper tartan. Even if it were, I've seen this very suit advertised last year." Ezra knew he looked a little smug, but he couldn't bring himself to fake any other expression.
Harriet's response was cut off by the arrival of another clerk. "Harriet! Shift!" A different woman - this one recognizable from past visits: Deirdre, with short blonde hair - rushed over, then, a different suit in hand. "I'm terribly sorry, Ezra! She hasn't been well these past few days." A glare over her shoulder sent Harriet skittering away before she turned back to Ezra. "Try this instead."
This was a little more like it; the cream fabric was soft and worn, but in a way that told of love and care, rather than disregard. A bow tie in Ezra's signature tartan was attached, along with matching angel wing cuff-links. He felt the smile slide onto his face the second he saw it, and he immediately hastened to the changing room. It fit perfectly in every regard - Ezra wasn't too surprised, given Deirdre's amazing clothing skills - and the decision to buy it was an easy one. Still, Ezra shuffled out of the dressing room and out to where his friends were lurking, just in case. Carmen was still standing there, near-shouting at Sable, while Chalky lurked silently off to the side. They all turned as one, almost as though they'd coordinated it, and smiled identical grins of approval.
Chalky ran over silently, walking around him with a gait that practically oozed. Then, they stepped back. "Don't see any tears or stains… looks good."
Sable nodded his agreement, his expression sharp and brittle. "Not too small or too big, either."
"Anyone would want to fight Gabriel for you." For once, Carmen spoke last, her voice low and smooth as she smiled with a look reminiscent of a predator. "You look great, Ezra."
Ezra smiled shyly, his instincts telling him to reject the praise. Deirdre still stood there, smiling as well; hers, however, was more friendly and open than the others, as was her tone as she said, "It's on the house, Ezra. Your friends told me about tonight." She smiled again, then reiterated, "It's on the house."
Ezra smiled - a small thing, but genuine - and nodded, shaking her hand warmly as he walked out the door. The day outside was pretty, and it was more soothing on his nerves now that he actually had an outfit to wear. It was a good thing, too; they barely had enough time to get back to the college before dinner. Despite it all, Ezra felt a strange serenity as they walked over to the college, entering his dorm - the normal way, this time - and getting dressed.
Just as he finished, attaching the final cuff-link with a soft ratcheting click, a knock sounded at the door. Ezra turned, a smile already on his face, the name a sigh. "Gabriel."