Charmed by You

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Charmed by You

Post by mighty_minnie on Wed Nov 11, 2015 4:50 pm

The month leading up to this departure had been full of good memories and a chance to make up for lost time. It finally gave Milan Van der Burg the chance to apologize for mysteriously disappearing after graduation and being so poor at keeping up with his old high school friends. It felt weird reconnecting with them after the two years that had passed yet comforting. The musician who always felt as if he lived on his own lonely island allowed visitors to his shores and invited them in with the most genuine hospitality he could muster. It seemed as if the trip had been a success and the majority of his old friend group had forgiven him for his sudden disappearance. Some still were a bit bitter and reluctant to try and maintain their relationship after the trip but Milan took no offense. He knew that he had betrayed their trust and been too cowardly to apologize sooner for his wrong doings towards them. Yet oddly enough one person, the person he least expected, wanted to stay longer. But why? If anything it made the most logical sense for Charlie Thompson to want to be the first one to board the private jet and head back home, not request to stay longer. It still puzzled the brunette as to why the other wanted to hang around for just a bit longer. Yet Milan found himself rather happy that his old band buddy wanted to stay. Sure it wouldn't be forever but maybe it would be long enough to help his friend establish his own identity as a musician and use his own status as a well known producer and dj to help promote his friend. So, with good will and hopes of atoning for past transgressions; Milan welcomed Charlie into his home and life once more. He was under the impression the other would only want to stay for maybe a few more weeks but a few weeks was no turning into a few months. But would a few months turn into a few years? Who knew?

“Milan it's time to leave.” A familiar voice called out. “You've got an interview at noon, CD signing at two, a meet and greet at three, and the concert begins at seven!” This was now becoming the usual wake up call for the young male. It was rare that he had any free time these days to do things he enjoyed. Even little things like go to the market to pick out groceries. Apparently when one becomes famous he signs his rights to little pleasures like going to the market, talking a stroll in the brisk winter air, and sleeping away with the stroke of a pen. Still, the opportunity to share his feelings and ultimately himself on a personal level through music was something Milan wouldn't trade for the world. This new life of being a successful artist had given him so many opportunities and ways to impact his world. Never in his life would he have possibly imagined that people would care about his ideas and that he could have so much influence over others. It all felt so surreal at times. “Coming!” The soft spoken male called back as he got up from his computer chair where he had been composing new music late into the evening. He looked over and noticed his friend was still fast asleep. “It couldn't hurt to let him sleep in.” Milan said quietly to himself before putting an extra blanket over the other. Charlie wasn't used to how cold it got in the Netherlands so he felt awful that he had chosen to endure a winter here. Milan had tried on multiple occasions to send his friend back to the warm sea side town which they spent the summers of their boyhood in but Charlie was adamant he was staying. Honestly his friend was quite something. Always insisting on staying late at the concerts, trying to keep up with his busy schedule, and even try to make time to do simple things together like go for walks in the evening. Charlie was pretty curious about this new country and liked going out exploring and asking many questions. Milan found his childlike curiosity cute (not that he'd ever say that to Charlie’s face). After making sure there was some coffee brewing, Milan left the humble space he called home and headed out to make his first of many stops today.

The one thing he didn't enjoy about his new found fame was the nosy reporters who wanted to interview him. The whole process of being interviewed was unnerving to say the least. It felt like he was being interrogated which gave Milan slight anxiety and caused him to fumble over his words and embarrass himself when his brain to mouth connector seemed to malfunction mid interview. At least he'd spared his friend the trouble of having to wait around a news station or watch him awkwardly fumble over his own words. That's why he was a musician. Because he could let the music speak where his own words failed. Maybe that would be a good response to one of the many questions he was bracing himself for. He gave a small nod as if agreeing with himself. Perhaps the interviewers would ask him about his charity? It was admittedly a huge organization that covered problems from creating safe spaces for LGBT teens and young adults to other matters that were close to his heart like helping dogs and cats find their FURever homes. It took a lot of work to get the organization off the ground but the impact it was making in not only local communities but globally was impressive. On days he had downtime he'd go visit some of the projects they'd set up like the animal adoption agencies or the safe spaces for the teens. He even created a community service day that his fans actively participated in. If they volunteered at any of the establishments his origination was involved with then they'd get free admission to his shows as his sign of thanks for helping out. Milan just loved how caring his fans were and the positive energy the gave off. He felt like a proud father seeing them all do good for one another.

Once at the studio he was escorted to one of the many waiting rooms. He let out a yawn before pulling out his phone. Hopefully Charlie hadn't blown up his phone with “where are you?” texts. So he decided to send a little update to his friend. 'Saw you were still asleep so I decided to let you sleep in. I'm waiting to be interviewed D: blah not fun. Let's try meeting up for lunch? Will txt when I'm done.' He hit send and put his phone up.


Last edited by mighty_minnie on Tue Nov 24, 2015 9:48 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by laurel on Thu Nov 12, 2015 12:44 am

After graduating high school, there were very few things that stuck with Charlie Thompson. Sometimes people let the worst get the better of them like he had. He slithered down the plummeting slide of depression like nothing their small town had seen since their valedictorian of 2004, Amber Price, became a stripper--and that was some news! Fact of the matter was: he changed from a competitive, eager kid to the proverbial stick in the mud, wallowing in self-pity and crumpled sheet music. There was something rotten and burning in his soul that kept him from being Charlie. It had aged him in ways that couldn't be reversed, but against all odds, he found salvation through reuniting with (the now renowned) Milan van der Burg. At first he was jealous, and it goes without saying that he still was admiringly envious of all the talent Milan possessed. However, realization of all the happiness the Dutch boy's music and performances brought others became something Charlie couldn't let go of, and he would soon seek it himself. His childhood friend's soft-hearted kindness melted some of the bitterness in the dear old Charlie's heart, if you were to put it in cliché terms, and the American boy felt the closest to whole as he had been in years. So, after invited to a get-together with his old friend, he stayed, and that's where he was now: being a total loser and crashing with Milan. (Though, if he was being honest, he felt a lot more productive being a lump over in the Netherlands than he did in America. Besides, he was able to help Milan manage things that he didn't have time for as a well-known face in the music community.)

Maybe it was the fact that the young celebrity still felt guilty for disappearing without a single word directly after high school, or maybe it was his gentle disposition, but regardless the taller male managed to crash for longer than intended, after their other friends had left long ago. If it was Milan's kindness, Charlie knew full well that he was taking advantage of it. But still... He whatever reason, his own motives remained the same: he wanted to be with Milan, innocently and simply as that. There was so much he missed out on in his absence; late night adventures, laughter over ridiculous puns, jamming in the garage on various instruments... All of those silly, mundane things. They were lost with the time they spent apart. But now Charlie had this opportunity to reclaim those experiences.

Though you can't really experience anything while sleeping. Sort of defeats the point of spending time someone. Yes, Charlie, wake up.

The dark-haired male heard himself in his dreams (or something) and began to stir underneath a plethora of sheets and comforters. It was warm and cozy, and he didn't want to leave, but he had reminded himself of the possibilities that lay untended to while he snoozed. So, he rubbed the sand from his eyes and groggily pulled himself from under the pleasant warmth of the covers into the cold of a Dutch November. His skin screamed in the agony that was the frigid air, but he pulled on a robe hanging off the door handle and meandered to the kitchen to get some "wake-up juice": citrus, citrus, and more citrus. His cuticles burned from the lemon juice, and his hands smelled distinctly like oranges and tart grapefruit. Charlie's mouth pulled down in mild distaste as he downed the concoction. It woke him up.

Now that he was neither sleepy nor warm, he decided "now" was a better time than ever to get dressed. (Mostly so he wouldn't freeze to death like the pansy he was. Milan did him right by giving him an extra blanket.) He quickly changed into a pair of faded jeans, a plain gray t-shirt, and plaid flannel. While he was inside, he shrugged his feet into a pair of bunny slippers, because why the hell not? He was Charlemagne Thompson and he would wear whatever he felt like!

After arguing with himself inside his head, Charlie quickly (or not so much) realized that Milan was gone. The poor, precious kid was always bouncing around from gig to gig, studio to home, and back again. Busy as he was, the American knew he could get a hold of him via text. Charlie sighed, though, as he looked at his phone. Milan was always one step ahead of him. It was only a few minutes ago that he was messaged, so he vigorously typed up a response, trying to be encouraging:

Aw, man. That sucks, dude, but I know you'll do great!
When you're done, I'd love to meet up for lunch. ;^D
Gotta show me some more Dutch cuisine. Something hot?
I'm freezing my ass off here!! lol

Satisfied, he sent the text and threw himself onto the bed, sprawling his body across the strewn covers, back to the mattress. He was content for now. Since he woke up a little late, he decided he'd wait until lunch to eat anything substantial so he could get some grub worthy of his ravenous stomach. While he was waiting he decided to break out his acoustic guitar and see if he could get a song going. He might as well be productive.
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by mighty_minnie on Sat Nov 14, 2015 8:50 pm

Waiting to be interviewed was Milan's idea of slow torture. The real torture was the painfully uncomfortable and nerve-wracking interview process itself. As he sat in the “blue room” (why it was called that was something the young Dutch boy still had no idea why) he pulled his phone out again to listen to some sweet tunes to ease his nerves. No. Milan wasn't vain enough to listen to his own music. In fact it was quite rare he would. Instead he decided to go “old school” and bust out some music from 2006. The song that came to mind and could put him in silly frame of mind and make him forget the stresses of being interviewed was the Numa Numa song by Ozone. Such an old song but it was admittedly one of the first foreign “electronic” songs he had found while browsing videos on YouTube during middle school. It didn't help that some fat guy singing and dancing to it made the song go viral and everyone knew of it and would try to mimic his dance. Still, it made him dance along in his chair and go to his “happy place”. A place he desperately needed to go to before stepping onto the set of the morning program. As he goofily danced to the song (and got odd stares from the production crew) a notification popped up cutting off part of the video (the music video not the large man dancing). He shook his head seeing a text from Charlie. “About time that lazy bag of bones got up.” Milan said to himself as he paused the video to reply to the text.

Wanna meet up for some BamiGoreng?
It's a Dutch take on Indonesian food.
We did a lot of trading with spices so we love food like this.
It's hot O : but so yummy!
AHHHHH! My manager said it's time to go on > <
Uhh try taking a bath to warm your bum up?? ^ ^;;
See ya in a few!
xx

XX was hugs. Milan was all about spreading peace, love, and music. It was just a force of habit to add the x's at the end of his texts. His fans even caught the xx bug and would add it as hashtags or in their tweets and instagrams to him. The brunette had pondered getting a tattoo of that but his phobia of needles quickly dissuaded him from doing such a silly thing. If he were to get a tattoo it might be the Zelda heart container seeing as LoZ was his all time fave video game. Sure he played some DOTA, World of Warcraft, Starcraft, Minecraft, DayZ, and other online MMORPGs but he loved the adventuring and puzzles of the Zeldaverse.

“Milan Van der Burg you're needed on set.” The stage manager said, snapping Milan from his trip down nostalgia lane. Maybe when he got into the studio later today he'd make a new song using some elements from classic gaming. Savant had a playful retro gaming sound to some of his older tracks (which he was such a fanboy over) and Deadmau5 along with Zedd played around with the Ocarina of Time Zelda theme song. Why the heck couldn't he? Show his fan base he was a gamer too. Well not that his YouTube channel where he posted all sorts of random videos didn't include late night raids on Rift or some zombie slaying in Left 4 Dead. In fact many of his fans were begging for him to start up a let's play gaming channel and do battles in games verses fans. Honestly that sounded like a blast! But alas his busy schedule didn't leave him as much time for gaming as when he was first trying desperately to get discovered.

“Let's welcome our special guest the ever charming and quite popular dj Milan Van der Burg!” Why wouldn't they call him by his DJ name? It was always Milan Van der Burg. Even he knew his own name was a mouthful to say. Oh well. He put a sweet smile on his face and humbly bowed as he stepped onto the set. The young adults and teens sitting in the audience started shouting at him. He waved at the crowd so they knew he was acknowledging them. If it wasn't for them then he wouldn't be here. He owed so much to his amazing fans and his family for (eventually) supporting his career.

“So Milan we hear you have a new album coming out soon~” The female co host cooed. She was looking at him with hungry eyes which caused the young DJ to shrink away from her. He gave a small nod just trying not to look into those ravenous eyes. “Y—yes. I'm putting the finishing touches on the last few songs though while I was waiting in your blue room I had an idea for another song.” Milan let out a nervous laugh. The crowd seemed excited and cheered. “Ah-- thank you thank you.” He bowed his head in their direction which caused them to scream and squeal even more. Someone loudly shouted an, “I love you Milan!” and another screamed out that he was a “Sexy beast.” This all caused the poor bashful dear's face to turn quite red. The hosts of the show loved how sweet and innocent Milan appeared. “Well it seems like your fans love you quite a lot and with good reason!” The man co host commented. “You've been quite busy this past year with your organization that helps out many different causes that are near and close to your heart.” Milan nodded in response. “Mhm. We've been rather busy setting up different establishments not just here at home but globally. We had a g—great success with our spread the love community service campaign. We had I think over 100,000 volunteers? All I know is it was massive and we did good work in our communities which is great.” The co hosts nodded. “And you gave a free concert to those who volunteered?” Milan nodded. “It was a small way I could say thank you to them for all of their hard work.” “A small way?” The female host said. “But aren't shows expensive to put on and you just did one for free?” The brunette shrugged. “The cost of shows doesn't matter to me. I don't care if I earn a dime off of any of my concerts so long as I can bring happiness and joy to others. What's the purpose of existing if we live selfishly and ignore those who are in need? I'm not talking just about people living in poverty but people who are threatened for their sexuality, gender, race, religion, for who they love, for having a mental illness that people refuse to understand because they'd rather stay ignorant than become aware and help alleviate the burden that person or persons feel? We weren't created to be loners but to coexist and share this world. Yet we focus so much on our differences. If my music can help unite people and show them they have something in common then at the end of the day I've done my job. I've helped bring people who normally wouldn't think they had anything in common together and slowly start mending this divide that the media and other groups and organizations are trying to make deeper.” The young Dj said. The room fell silent. It normally wasn't like Milan to be so outspoken but the host really struck a nerve with him mentioning how much the concert must have cost. Those fans worked for their entry fee and who was he to make them pay after they spent their free aiding his projects. The male host looked to the camera and mentioned how they were going to a break.

Milan felt so uncomfortable after speaking out the way he had. It normally wasn't like him to do that. Now he was stuck at the news station without Charlie to tell him it was okay to be outspoken about things he believed in. Knots grew in his stomach as the commercial break went on. The hosts didn't even make idle chit chat with him during the break. However the audience was a buzz with chatter. Some people saw how dreadfully nervous Milan was and shouted things like “Way to go!” and “Preach!” At least his fans had his back.

After the rest of the shortened interview; Milan preformed a song off the new album before he was allowed to leave. Once off the stage he nearly collapsed into fetal position, wanting nothing more than to just hide and never be seen again. Ugh. Why had he said those things? Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut like normal? Was his outspoken American friend rubbing off on him? His manager just gave him a pat on the shoulder and told him it'd be okay. But would it be okay or had he goofed?

Once in the car he decided to text Charlie again.

Headed your way. You might want to bring some sunglasses so you won't be targeted for hanging out with me :C
I think I might've goofed up my interview.

The pulled up to Milan's home. The young male got out of the car and let himself in. “Charlie? Common we gotta go so we don't run late for the CD signing at two? Or was it one?” His manager called out “One!” That sent a wave of anxiety through him. Would people still come to the CD signing after his interview this morning? Milan let out an uneasy sigh as he wrapped his arms tightly around his petite frame. It was written all over his face that he was beyond uncomfortable and anxious. He could really use a hug and a warm drink right about now.
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by laurel on Fri Nov 20, 2015 8:54 pm

For a while, Charlie aimlessly strummed on his acoustic guitar, nothing practical or interesting resonating in the room. Besides his single suitcase of clothing and a few toiletries, his acoustic guitar was one of the few personal possessions he brought to the Netherlands, and one would think that he’d find some happiness in just casually getting out a song. Unfortunately, despite being rather happy staying with Milan, that muse he used to have was still stagnant. After a few more minutes of coarse playing and lack of chord progressions, he decided to give it a break. If he messed around too much, he’d become more and more frustrated with his work and wouldn’t want to play at all. Because of that, it was hard to decide what was practice, and what was building himself up to irritation, but now was one of those moments when he knew he should stop. Nothing sounded right.

He set his guitar off to the side, its wooden frame laying rather haphazardly on the sheets of his bed. It stared at him, maybe a little affronted it was, once again, left where it was. Truth be told, Charlie didn’t care much for his instrument. Though he wasn’t aware, one could probably easily deduct it was his own self-destructive personality that led him wanting to hurt the things that were key to displaying his own talents, or the stalling of such, therefore—oh, well, okay, so maybe the reasoning wasn’t quite so intense? Maybe it was because Charlie just didn’t care that much; maybe if it broke, he could play off the “oh, my guitar broke, can’t play anymore, what a shame,” and waste away in alcohol and drugs for the remainder of his days, promptly overdosing on his 27th birthday...

Okay. Maybe not.

Charlie broke his little staring contest with the guitar before his mind could settle on any of the morbid theories aforementioned—which was definitely for the better. Before he could make it through the threshold of the guest bedroom, his jeans’ pocket buzzed with an incoming text: Milan. His eyes scanned over the message with affection and sympathy for the young musician. The kiddo wasn’t one for crowds or interviews, or any other extroverted activity; it was very over-stimulating in many respects regardless of one’s personality, but for Milan, he could tell it was mortifying.

Charlie took a moment to reply, trying to find some solid words that could give him some more encouragement to the little obstacle he was about to face:

Dutch Indonesian food? Sounds interesting; I’m looking forward to it!
But you better hurry up, or I might starve. I can hear my stomach digesting itself. :’^)
You’ll woo them with your charisma and your cute, nervous face. Girls totally dig that kinda stuff. I’ll bring a broom to knock off all those bodacious babes that will be clinging to you when you get back.
I’ll take a bath after lunch or something. I’ll keep my butt warm on the couch for now.
Go get ‘em, bud. You’ll do great. ;^) See you soon.

Without really re-reading his text, he sent it. Afterwards, he looked at the text and grimaced a little. As if calling him “cute” wasn’t at all obvious… He ran a exasperated hand through his thick, dark hair and flopped on the couch. Hopefully Milan was as clueless as he was cute. Charlie could definitely work with a little naivety right now… Or a lot.

The slightly older male looked at the TV in front of him. He knew that Milan would either be sort of weirded out by him watching his interview or embarrassed… Or maybe he’d be flattered? Charlie sighed. Sometimes the little prodigy wasn’t as predictable as he thought, but it wasn’t as if he had to know. For a while, he struggled with the urge to turn to the channel that aired his interview. He felt a little obsessive; maybe a little too dependent on Milan. For one thing, he was starting to base most of his muse on him, and for another, all the lyrics that came to his head were love songs: gooey, awful stuff his songs rarely encountered. He brought his knees to his chin and put his long nose between the crevice between his kneecaps, groaning. Why couldn’t he be normal? Why couldn’t he just be genuine and kind without falling over like a dead deer when it came to realizing he liked someone? This had happened with girls and guys alike in his school years, and it was why he never dated. Too flustered for anyone, too infatuated and self-critical to left himself try to make things happen. He knew his own weaknesses and love was definitely one of them. It might’ve been the whole reason why he put all his hormones into his music; all the angry and bitter feelings shoved into lyrics, screaming about how trapped and frustrated he was.

He brought his eyes up from his knees and looked at the TV’s blank screen. Guiltily, he scavenged for the remote in the cushions and pressed the power button, the electricity trapped behind glass springing the television set to life. By the time he had even won over the pleasure of getting to the channel, biting back the froth of guilt and shame, he had missed most of the interview. He caught the last few words of a sentence—“…together and slowly start mending this divide that the media and other groups and organizations are trying to make deeper”-- before the set and audience went quiet. Even the interviewer was silent. The cameraman turned to Milan and the confidence in those final words wavered and fell down to the visible uncomfortableness that might’ve gone undetected by the average fan. The interviewer announced that they’d be back after a “short break,” which always ended up being a good 5 or 6 minutes of infomercials; most of these were in Dutch, however, so he tuned it all out and fought the urge to send him a text saying he saw part of the interview.

When the show came back on, he saw Milan back with a fair amount of composure and he was able to get out a song before the hostess thanked him for coming on set and his fans cheered for him. That was a bit reassuring, but Charlie couldn’t judge what would make his friend feel better in this case…

He got another text soon after, and he frowned. “Poor kid…” The brunette shoved out another text saying he’d be ready, and that the interview probably wasn’t as bad as he thought. By the time car pulled up minutes later, he had changed the channel and turned off the TV, and was pulling on his insulated olive coat that had a furred hood. Jokingly, he pushed two pairs of aviator glasses into his pocket. Milan called up to him and he hurried to the door, “Yeah, I’m coming.” He shooed Milan back out and locked the door for them, hopping into the car behind the DJ.

Charlie sent his friend a sly smirk and pulled out the aviators, “We can both wear some and be fly as all hell. Super fly. We’re going to be in the clouds, punching birds and junk because we’re so fly.” He put a pair in Milan’s hands. His face turned a little more serious, though, as he put a hand on Milan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sure you did good. You probably just surprised them… With whatever you said,” he added with a reassuring smile. “Regardless, it’s in the past. And now… Now, we look for delicious grub. Sweet, hot, delicious grub to fill the void in my poor lil’ tummy.”
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by mighty_minnie on Tue Nov 24, 2015 9:45 pm

Milan nervously was waiting downstairs on Charlie to get his butt downstairs so they could grab a quick bite to eat before his next scheduled appearance. In all honesty it seemed so tempting right now to cancel the meet and greet and cd signing. At least when he was on a stage he had his usual masks and hats on during the shows to hide his face. It was just part of his “image”. It just started out as a way to keep his identity a mystery and keep some level of privacy. Too bad one of his “friends” decided to take a candid shot of him in the studio and leek it online. Ever since then when he went to interviews he was asked not to wear the silly hats or masks to cover up his face. Apparently some people thought he was “attractive”. Psh. Did they not see the two giant caterpillars on his face?

Charlie soon appeared and ushered him out the front door. Milan slipped into the back of the large SUV and huddled up in the corner. It was obvious from his body language that he was being very self critical and was totally miserable. It was bad when he got in his own head. It took a whole excavating crew to dig him up from under the rubble known as regrets, screw ups, and doubt. A sigh escaped his plump lips as he zoned out more and more being buried once again under the mental rubble. As he was going over his blunder on the interview this morning he felt something slide into his hand. Milan looked down and noticed a pair of aviators. “H—Huh?” Hearing Charlie mention punching birds caused the brunette to curiously quirk his brow. “But why would we punch the poor birdies? What did they do to us?” It seemed as if once again Charlie's jokes flew over his head. He just shook his head as if to reinforce the fact he was totally lost.

“You don't even know. You weren't there to see how much I screwed up. I should've just smiled and nodded. But no..something that female anchor said really struck a nerve with me. She brought up how it must've cost a small fortune to put on a free concert for the volunteers.” Milan bit down hard on his lower lip and nervously began to chew it. The look on his face was so tense for the normally happy Dutch male. “I just went on this rant about how I could care a less if I made money off the concert or not. Those people worked hard and earned their admittance. And that I honestly don't care if I make money from being a musician or not so long as I can help mend this rift that religion, politics, and other institutions are causing. Music has the power to heal and bring people who never would've thought they had a single thing in common together. All I care about is bringing joy into people's lives through my songs. I guess that surprised them? Who even knows. All I know is that they quickly went to a commercial break and cut my interview short. Please don't say we recorded that at home. I don't wanna re watch that interview.” Milan put his head in his hands before letting out a groan. “I miss being the boy who uploaded his music on beatport and newgrounds. The boy who could hide behind the safety of his bedroom walls and not have to be interviewed. People will twist your words and take them out of context. The only way I even remotely know how to communicate well is through my music because obviously I can't words right in person without some sort of instrument.” He sighed. It was easy to hear in his tone just how stressed he was. As if the bags under his eyes or his petite frame didn't give away how this life was so brutal on him.

The SUV pulled up to a chic looking restaurant where Milan's bodyguard was the first out of the car. The buff man shielded the petite male from the masses as he ushered the frail boy into the restaurant. He could hear people squeal when they recognized a tuft of Milan's signature messy hair or one of his many infamous plaid shirts. The guard muttered some reassuring comments to Milan as they got safely inside the building. It was so stupidly annoying how hectic it was just to go somewhere for lunch without having people mob him. Letting out a sigh the bodyguard eased off and allowed Milan to approach the hostess. The musician gave a weak smile as he requested a table for five. The hostess gave a small nod and lead them to a more secluded section of the restaurant. Once there she handed them all menus which Milan promptly used his to hide his face behind. An exasperated sigh escaped the tiny male's lips as he sank into the chair.

After several minutes of silence Milan set his menu down and propped his head on his hands. He looked so worn out and this was just the start of yet another long day. His gaze drifted over to Charlie and he tried his best to muster up a smile for his friend. “S—So, you gonna go with the BamiGoreng?” The mousy brunette asked. “It's really good here. When I moved back here after graduation I made weekly trips here for it. I love spicy food. Thai, Indonesian, Korean, Indian, ect. The hotter the dish the more I live for it. Ruben wonders how I have any taste buds left.” He gave a weak chuckle. “Isn't that right?” His gaze shifted to the hispterish looking young man with the stylish beard. The other male snickered before agreeing. “Ru just can't take the heat. One time I pranked him by putting some Sriracha sauce on his dinner after a concert. Oh buddy his whole face turned red and I thought he was going to start breathing fire.” Milan actually laughed recalling the event. “We have fun on tour.” He said quietly. “Though I don't think I'd wanna subject you to the tough schedules. I'm sure you'll get tired of freezing your bum off and will head back to the west coast soon? I mean not that I don't like having you here. It's been great. Like really great. But I'm sure you wanna see Cleo again, meet your aunts kiddo, and get back to your life.” He said the last bit quietly before looking down and biting back a frown. It had really been swell being able to reclaim some of their lost time but all good things had to come to an end. “A—Any ways! Yeah, I think I'll have some espresso to warm up. Want a hot drink? Or are you ok with water? Or both. I mean get whatever.” Milan seemed to be fumbling over his words more than normal. He even looked a little flustered and slightly bummed out. But, like always, he put a smile on his face and tried to make everything seem like it was fine. He even tried to distract himself by telling Charlie some more amusing stories from his first tour until their meals came.
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by laurel on Wed Dec 30, 2015 2:32 pm

The way Milan made himself small as he hunkered down next to his friend sent the bad sort of nostalgia running down Charlie’s back; it was like someone dunked him in cold water. Hell, it sent uneven throbs through his body; made him bite back on his breath. It was like looking in a mirror in one case, but then he quickly realized that he had gone through this sort of depression a different way: he forced people to notice his bad mood. He bit back at other people when they so much as ventured toward him. He fought them every inch of the way before he let anyone get what they wanted, because Charlie knew he was the king in his own world. He was Charlemagne, he was royalty, and they were going to face their fates as dirty, subservient peasants.

But this was Milan: someone who was kind and generous just as much as he was a big-time entertainer. Charlie was quite sure that the innocence that Milan possessed was not found in the average person, let alone a celebrity. There was a reason that he had inspired so many of his fans already, and it wasn’t because he was cool or famous. It was because he was genuine.

Seeing the frustration on his friend’s face shattered him. His blood ran cold. Charlie had tried joking with him, but that flew past little Milan as per usual. The tall brunette let out a little huff, rubbing his eyes and taking a moment to think of something, anything, to cheer Milan up. He came up short, and the younger male began talking of what happened at the interview. In retrospect, the host was known for being sort of indiscreetly nosy, from what he understood, and was a “basic bitch,” as kids his age would put it. She was probably no different from any other face of the media, focusing on the statistics, the big bucks, the viewers, and overall reception. Sure, it was critical in the economic sense, but what Milan did was in no way catered to that end of the deal, and it definitely reflected in how he was acting now. Charlie’s tense lips twerked up into a wry smile, “It’s something you have to expect from the likes of her and the business, Milan. Most people don’t focus on what you do, and it’s impersonal that they ask about it, to be very honest. I don’t think that you responding the way you did was wrong, but it sure put a stick up their asses.” He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, sinking into the leather of the car seat. He tried to relax a little, but it was hard when his anchor was as upset as he was. Charlie listened quietly as the DJ continued on about the power that music had on individuals, and how big it became when the groups come together. “They’re probably scared of you. You have so much influence on so many people, and doing it for good? How scandalous…” Charlie joked a little, but continued, “Regardless, as true and good as your intentions are, it’s as you say… They’re going to misconstrue your words intentionally. You’re a target with your fame and fortune, and people will do anything to fuck you over. The news doesn’t want to hear what you really think, after all.”

He let out a big sigh, “But enough about that disgusting media crap.” Charlie shook Milan’s shoulder a little, as if to shake some life back into him. When his hand touched his shoulders, he could feel how small and bony he was... His clothing disguised his frame well, especially since it was winter and he could wear thicker clothing, but his poor friend was still so small. He hadn’t been eating well, had he? With all the meetings and rehearsals, Milan must have been neglecting his own personal health. This startled Charlie in its own way, though it was not surprising by itself. Something like electricity shot down his own arm and he withdrew it from Milan’s shoulder a little shakily. He should have been looking after him more carefully… Charlie gathered himself, placing a balled-up fist in his lap, refusing to let it twitch visibly. It bothered him so much. How could I have let him get like this? And why does he feel like he needs to do so much for people? He clenched his jaw, then eased up, finally able to finish, “You did well. It wasn’t what they wanted to hear, but it’s what your fans will want to hear.”

The car finally pulled up to the restaurant, all of its passengers safe. He stumbled out a little slowly, kicking out his long legs from their cramped position. The tall, muscular bodyguard (who’s body was not unlike John Cena’s physique) escorted the lot of them into the building. Although the bodyguard was only a foot away, Charlie, too, remained close by Milan. He put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, the warmth penetrating the fabric of Milan’s clothes. Again, he was guilted with the feeling of the little bit of skin and bones that was under his hand, but he kept it there as a reminder that there were at least two people that would serve as a buffer between the crowds for Milan. Charlie was not afraid to punch multiple people (and Captain Falcon was his favorite character while playing Smash Bros. for a reason). It wasn’t like he was under a contract like Milan was. He could easily brush it off as an anxiety disorder that was unleashed when the swarms attacked them. Claustrophobic? Who knows? He sure could play it off as that, however.

They were able to sit down without too much trouble, although the chatter picked up with their arrival. Charlie watched Milan slump in his chair. He was so worn out… He looked down at his menu, shifting his eyes across words in Dutch, but not bothering to translate so much as he just silently worried about his treasured friend. Milan’s voice shattered the barrier of intense thought and he spaced out a tad before checking his short-term memory for what he had been asked. He stumbled a bit first, “Oh, what?.. Oh… Yeah, that sounds good. Mind telling the waitress for me? I’ll butcher the pronunciation,” he smiled lamely. He knew it would be a yes, no need to ask. Milan continued into his earlier days, first starting out on tour. It was nice to see fondness return to his eyes, and a smile take a detour to his face. It made him think of the Milan he knew well, and not the husk that sat before him. To be able to breathe back life into the tired young adult was something he needed to accomplish soon, or he might not have a Milan. The thought terrified him.

“I’m sure you’ll get tired of freezing your bum off and will head back to the West Coast soon? I mean, not that I don’t like having you here. It’s been great. But I’m sure you wanna see Cleo again, meet your aunt’s kiddo, and get back to your life.” He nearly scoffed. Something bitter rose back up inside of him. ’Get back to your life.’ What a joke that was! It took every fiber of his being not to spit venom at the very person he loved so dearly; he could so easily flip. “My life, huh?...” His lips twitched, he stared darkly into the wood grains, as if there was something interesting in the swirls of the polished wood. Nope. Charlie had to pull himself out of the dark place his head was going, and quick. He managed to do so with the thought of melancholy that Milan was hiding in his voice. So, would Milan miss him? It sounded like it, and he didn’t believe the sweet boy would lie, especially not to a friend.

The two of them sat amongst Milan’s team rather quietly. Charlie decided on some coffee (though it wasn’t as great as the kind he made at Spill the Beans), and listened in on Milan’s little recollections before the food came out. It was only then that the older brunette realized how hungry he was. Again. He had complained so much about it earlier, it had hardly been a problem while everything else was so tense. But now he was able to gobble up his grub, and although it was rather spicy, he handled it well. The noodles and chopped vegetables went down easily into his rumbling belly.

Everyone soon finished up and there had been a semi-comfortable silence while they ate. Charlie toddled around the entryway as he waited for the bill to be cleared up. Across the way was a large gothic church, the steeples rising high into the gray winter sky. From his spot, he could see the stained glass creating an image of the Virgin Mary, a halo around her head, symbolizing her Sainthood. He had learned, while in Holland, that their largest religion was Roman Catholicism, so there were a few churches scattered across the city. This must have been one of them. He tugged Milan, whom was already close by. “Hey, let’s go to that church. Let’s see if I burn upon entering,” he joked. Of course there were no ill intentions involved, there was something pulling Charlie in its direction. He wasn’t religious—far from it, actually—but he knew that he could find some peace if he were to pass through its threshold. Once, when he was small, he had found safety in a large church in town while there were torrential downpours, flooding everything before he could get back home. The church gave him the security he needed then, so he hoped he could find some there now, as well. Milan, too, perhaps.

Before they left the restaurant, Milan and Charlie both had to confirm with his manager and bodyguard of where they were heading, and they were given approval. They crossed the street together, Charlie mostly tugging his friend along, keeping him nearby as he held the sleeve of Milan’s plaid flannel. He entered the church quietly, looking at Milan with tender eyes that refused to bore into the other’s, yet held onto the sensitivity that most hadn’t realized Charlie possessed. He tore his gaze away, looking up at the high flying buttresses that held up the dome-shaped ceiling. The sunlight rained colors on them as it passed through the stained glass. For a moment, the brunette was able to grasp onto the peacefulness of where they were. He let out a sigh.

“I don’t want to go home,” he breathed. “There’s no life there.”

Though what he couldn’t bring himself to say was, “My life is here with you, and I’ll stay as long as you do.”
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by mighty_minnie on Sat Jul 30, 2016 4:39 pm

Hearing his friend's comment about testing to see if he'd burn upon stepping foot on Holy ground; Milan's large eyebrows knitted together as a rather displeased look appeared upon his usually cheerful face. The Van der Burg's were a devout family; despite his eldest sister's protest and recent political reform. To hear Charlie speak so irreverently caused his lips to form into a thin line. To anyone who knew the young man well, this was a very rare look to see indeed. His bodyguard caught sight of the displeased look upon his charge's face before blue eyes drifted over to the other who was tugging at Milan. "Watch it kid...." The buff guard muttered low enough where Charlie could hear without, hopefully, drawing Milan's attention. Didn't that "friend" know about how much serving the others meant to Milan? How growing up in the church had defined quite a bit of the younger male's worldview. A lot of kids now a days were so cynical, callous, jaded, skeptical, and thought they were apart of an "informed", "enlightened", "scientific", generation that didn't need a God or higher power to define who they are, what they do, or have any part of their politics. That the old fools who set up their countries that were God fearing people were so primitive and daft for thinking there was something greater than themselves. They think they're the generation with all the answers, that can lead the human race into the next frontier, but the bodyguard felt pity for this ignorant, self serving, self obsessed generation of entitled little brats who have everything at the tip of their fingers and don't understand what sacrifice is, how to serve others before yourselves.... It honestly broke the guards heart. Milan though wasn't apart of this movement. He was in his own little movement. A movement founded on serving others before yourself, unconditional love, and being good stewards to the earth. There was just something different about Milan. His soul just was untainted by cynicism, skepticism, and his heart wasn't calloused nor jaded like others his age. His purity, for a lack of a better term, made him stand out in this bleak world. He was a much needed beacon of hope for those who seemed to have gotten lost in a sea of self. The guard let out a small sigh before ruffling Milan's hair. "If you two only go to the church and don't wonder off further then I guess I don't mind." The manager reluctantly gave in. "Fine, but remember we have that meet and greet at one! Keep an eye on your phone and don't lose track of time." With that the two were allowed to leave.

Milan was still thinking a bit too much about Charlie's off handed comment. He was so lost in his own thoughts that Charlie was practically dragging him across the street. It was bad when Milan got lost in his own head. Sure on the outside he put up a happy appearance but his mind held negative thoughts. A few negative thoughts clouding his mind right now were related to this morning's fiasco on the morning talk show. He just couldn't let go of the negativity he was redirecting at himself for speaking his mind and not giving the answers the anchor's wanted to hear.

When they stepped into the church everything changed. Milan had finally snapped out of his thoughts when they quit walking. He could feel the warm sensation that often swept over him when he'd enter a church. Something about it felt comforting, calming, and reassuring. Like nothing bad could happen to him inside this sanctuary. His gaze drifted over to Charlie. His mouth opened as if he had something to say. In fact he was going to tell the other not to make such jokes like he had earlier but then Charlie started to speak. The other didn't say much but it was enough to cause Milan to shut his mouth and stand there quietly. “I don’t want to go home,” This confused him. Why wouldn't he want to go home back to his family? His aunt had just had a baby. Surely he'd want to be apart of the little guy or girl's life? What about Cleo? Surely he missed his own twin. Then there were his parents and younger brother.  How old was Chrys now? It'd been ages since Milan had seen any of them. He felt guilty for not trying to write to them. The Thompson's had been more or less like a second family to him when he'd first moved to the states. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson helped him through his history classes if he was struggling. Cleo was like another sister to him and Chrys the little brother he'd never had. They were a pretty kind family from what he remembered. His heart ached as guilt started to creep back up. And now he was keeping Charlie away from them. He only meant for the other to stay a few weeks after the trip but  a few weeks had turned into a few months. Then the others last words caused Milan to feel concerned. Had Charlie had a falling out with his family because of how long he'd been living here? Milan bit onto his lower lip. It took him a moment to compose himself. "D---Don't say things like that." He managed to squeak out. "Y---You have a family that loves you very much. I'm sure they miss you because you've been living here for so long. What about Chrys? He needs his older brother. I n---never had one so I never had someone to learn from. I mean...I had Liv but she's always  been a little rough around the edges. It's not the same as having a brother to learn things from. I feel bad I've kept you away from them for so long. They were always so good to me when I lived there....." His voice trailed off and a guilty look was evident in his eyes. He had a bit of a sniffle before walking away from the other and moving toward the alter.

Milan knelt down and closed his eyes. Right now he just needed to find his calm before he ended up drowning in his own tears. Today wasn't going well and he knew he was losing control of his emotions. That the negativity he fights so hard to keep at bay was creeping dangerously closer. He took deep breaths as he focused on positive things and tried channeling his inner calm.

After what felt like an unbearably long period of silence; Milan got up off his knees, brushed the wrinkles out of his pants, and let out a long sigh. His gaze drifted around until he noticed the large organ seemingly tucked away. A grin appeared on his face as he did another look around before hopping over the gate and moving towards it. It'd been awhile since he'd played the organ and honestly he wondered if he still could. Nobody was offering prayers and it seemed as if he and Charlie were the only ones in the sanctuary. The priest wouldn't mind if he offered up a little music to the creator, right? Hopefully not! With that slight concern temporarily silenced; Milan set his fingers on the keys. The next thought that came to mind was what song should he attempt to play? Looking up at all of the wonderfully ornate pipes; Milan soon had an idea. Sure this piece might be "advanced" for someone who hadn't played in awhile but it was worth a shot. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before beginning to play Toccata and Fugue in d minor. The pipes roared to life as the song poured out of them; filling the once silent sanctuary with beautiful music.
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Charlie is insecure as always. And melodramatic.

Post by laurel on Sun Jul 31, 2016 11:07 pm

While they checked out at the restaurant, Charlie vaguely heard the bodyguard’s warning, and at the sight of Milan’s furrowing brow, he backed off a bit. He didn’t mean to come off as crass or irreverent, but it was just how he was, and how he saw himself. No God could ever accept the waste of space that was Charlemagne Thompson, so he wouldn’t be half surprised if he actually did burn upon crossing the threshold. He didn’t bother to add onto his earlier remark, but gave a quick nod to Milan’s manager and promised he’d keep track of time. The two of them probably had a good forty-five minutes or so to mess around before they had to scram and get Milan ready for his meet-and-greet.

A quiet breath of relief was exhaled from his lungs as they made it through the foyer. He had held his breath, but had been grateful (and surprised) that nothing had actually happened. It must have been his superstitious side pickling his brain, though he liked to think that he could repress it. Despite the lack of spontaneous human combustion, Charlie still seemed to feel that he was trespassing in some sense.

Charlie still had his head arched back as he looked up at the high domes, the circular patterns creating mandala-like effects. It was almost too much for the senses: the strong, lingering scent of the wooden pews and burning incense; the insane juxtaposition of the dark paneling, but bright light that flooded in through the windows; the church itself was so gargantuan, especially with just the two of them in there, and should have made him felt small; however, he actually almost felt important rather than insignificant, as if he actually mattered, as if there was something or someone watching him that really cared for him. The more he thought about it, the more his eyes glazed over, and the more he realized he was probably mistaking Milan for God. All the kindness and sweetness and unconditional love of his friend made him feel safe in this world... Though, if his companion ever heard him utter that comparison, he’d probably be overwhelmed, too. He rubbed his eyes. At the very least, Charlie was safe inside his head, and yet, completely vulnerable to himself.

The brunette took a seat in the front pews, sitting down with some nervousness. Looking over, he saw that Milan had made some headway into recovering. He looked much like his normal self in this environment. A brief smile made its way onto his lips, then disappeared again as Milan’s shaking voice answered him. His guilt returned.

”I'm sure they miss you because you've been living here for so long.”

‘They’re a million times better off without me—especially Chrys. I just dampen his image like a soggy, old newspaper. Pretty sure my parents have mistaken their pity for love for the past quarter of a decade, so I’m doing them a solid by not being there. But now I’m a burden to you and taking advantage of your kindness, and the only thing that’s keeping me from going off the edge is your kind voice and your constant reassurance that I’m better than I am. I know I’m not, but you’re keeping me above water when I’m drowning in this self-doubt. Drowning, drowning, drowning…’ He kept his head low, elbows on his knees, his chin propped on his knuckles. He bit down on his lip, and willed himself not to snap, but instead to apologize, if not for his long list of shortcomings, then for the fact that Milan was stuck with him for the time being, “I’m sorry, Milan…”

Composure was something the young adult was in short supply of oftentimes, but today it was Milan’s turn to let loose. It was his turn to allow himself to feel vulnerable in a safe place if he so chose, and for Charlie to be there for him, so he could repay him for the kindnesses the sweet celebrity had bestowed unto him. Guilt welled up in his chest because he had upset him in this one safe place. So it was time to be quiet. To watch. To be considerate for once in his life. He sat up straight and watched him with the attentiveness he had shown few; watched him as he clambered up to the large organ with pipes with circumferences larger than his thigh and taller than three Milans stacked on top of each other. There was a moment of hesitation—maybe reconsideration on his part, but it only lasted a second and then he had his digits on the keys and the deep, resounding bellow of the organ filled the walls. The quickness of his fingers was surprising on its own, the way his fingers rushed and tumbled over the adjacent ones, his foot sustaining the notes with the pedal as both hands worked miraculously in sync.

Then he realized…

He was playing without any freaking sheet music. Charlie would not put it past Milan to be able to play this Baroque-ish piece with the same finesse of a professional pianist, but he had this whole piece memorized from start to finish, and if that wasn’t flabbergasting enough, then the small crowd that he drew just from his playing was. They wandered in, curious and in awe. Many were tourists, but a few were locals. His jaw was a little slack, and he reminded himself to never be surprised by Milan’s talent ever again. It was apparent in their classes they shared as kids, and it was apparent in his musical career now.

When Milan closed with a final dense, dissonant chord, he felt himself stand up and began to applaud him. Following him in suit was the growing crowd, many beaming, a few teary-eyed, many with their mouths gaping open, still in shock as Charlie had been himself.
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by mighty_minnie on Mon Aug 01, 2016 9:05 pm

Once his fingers began flying across the keys it was as if Milan was transported into his own little world. All of the worries of earlier this morning were far from his mind as he just focused on recalling every single note of the rather lengthy song he'd chosen to play. If he was being honest with himself, and the brunette wasn't a fan of lying, he decided on this song to show off. Milan knew that Charlie had some knowledge of his classical music up bringing but he wanted to show his mastery of it. It probably would've been more of a surprise if he'd played this piece back when they were fourteen. He'd first learned Toccata and Fugue in d minor when he was either twelve or thirteen. Music was his only outlet; his only escape from a world he never felt he belonged to. Even now at twenty three years young he still often ran into his studio to hide if some social situation managed to unnerve him. Today it just so happened the interview from Hell had struck a nerve or two with him. What would it be tomorrow? Would Milan ever be able to learn to quit hiding behind his music and face the uncertain and cruel adult world as he should? Or would he forever hide behind the one thing that made him feel safe.

Once he hit the last chord; Milan slowly opened his eyes and reluctantly returned back to the stressful world he loved to hide from. Upon opening his eyes; the brunette noticed that he had drawn a decent sized crowd into the church. The backdoor that lead to the church offices opened and a tall, older man, clad in a long black robe emerged from the back with a bewildered expression plastered on his face. Faded blue orbs peered curiously around the sanctuary before settling on the young man behind the organ. Milan could hear the footsteps approaching and involuntarily cringed. He was expecting to get scolded for tampering with church property without asking and a possible threat that the police might arrive if he didn't scram but what happened surprised him. The priest's face broke out into a bright smile seeing all the faces in the sanctuary on a weekday. The elder gentleman walked over to Milan and roughly patted his shoulder before moving to get a good look at his face. His eyes widened before a gut busting chuckle echoed through the sanctuary. "Ah, I see history has a habit of repeating itself, isn't that right Mister Van der Burg?" Milan looked like a deer caught in headlights. "P---Pardon?" The priest just kept laughing. "How could I forget you? Twelve years ago a young boy with a great love for music ran away from his parents and into this very church. This same young man climbed back behind the alter and entered the back where he found an organ. Luckily for him...the priest that day was too amazed by the talent the young boy possessed to get him in trouble with his parents. Seems you just can't help yourself, hm?" Milan's expression went from deer in the headlights to embarrassed in the blink of an eye. His whole face was a bright pink. "S---So it did happen when we were visiting the big city..." He nervously chuckled. "S---sorry." He gave an apologetic smile that could melt even the coldest heart. "It's no trouble at all my boy. The Lord has blessed you with a wonderful talent that he wants you to share with the world." The priest said, a warm smile on his face. "Now why haven't I read in the papers about you giving any organ or piano recitals, hm?" Milan went on to explain that he had become a musician but strayed from classical music. He showed a small demo of a song he was working on that had classical elements to it. "B---but maybe sometime, i---if you'd like, I---I could come here and play one Sunday for free? Think of it as repaying you for letting me use this wonderful instrument." Milan patted the old organ affectionately as if it was an old friend. The priest seemed more than willing to accept Milan's generous offer and with that Milan decided he'd better scram before he was talked into playing for the small crowd.

He walked back over to Charlie and gave his friend the same apologetic smile. "S---Sorry. I didn't think I'd draw a crowd..." Milan rubbed the back of his head as a sheepish expression appeared across his face. "And apparently I'm a repeat offender. Two years before I moved to the states I'd wondered off from my family when we were in the big city the year I preformed for the national New Years celebration. I felt something draw me towards this place and then I saw the beautiful organ. I dunno...I guess I couldn't help myself so I started playing." He gave a little chuckle. "But any ways, umm, shouldn't we head back to the restaurant? I think it's close to time for the meet and greet." Milan tried weaving through the crowd of people but occasionally found himself being stopped to be complimented, have his hand shaken, get a picture made, or just told what a truly gifted human being he was. It was very embarrassing for him but he managed to keep his composure and smile until he finally made it out of the church.

"Ahhhhh!" He let out a random scream once he was far enough away. "I felt like we'd never get out of there. Ugh...it was suffocating." He shook as if a cold chill had run down his spine. "But...If I'm going to be a well known musician then I'll have to learn to love big crowds." He muttered to himself as if psyching himself up for the next ordeal that awaited him. His gaze shifted over to Charlie. "This meet and greet is going to last for three hours? I'll just be sitting there signing things, taking pictures, giving out hugs, and talking with fans. If you'd rather spare your butt going numb from sitting around with me ..I honestly don't blame you for wanting to go home. The fans can be a bit...um...rowdy sometimes. Also they're a bit presumptuous. Like if I hug someone in a photo that they aren't familiar with then they'll assume I'm in a relationship and hate that person. Well, that's the extreme fans. I mean I've had people leave gifts at my door, one person waited on me to get home from a recording session, and I've gotten a few marriage proposals. So, yeah, not sure how you'll um like this whole experience. I mean..like..since you still seem very much interested in becoming famous it could be a good what to expect when you've gotten well known sort of thing. See if you really wanna dive into this chaos." He commented. Milan looked both ways before scurrying across the street like a little mouse. "Honestly, there's times I wish I could go back to being that kid who was still posting music on beatport and newgrounds trying to get discovered. That kid had so much freedom that he took for granted. Now every second of his life is planned out for him." He sounded a little glum but put a smile on when he spotted his manager running to meet them. "THERE YOU ARE!"

The group hurried to the car. Their destination was a bit of a drive but they should arrive on time if traffic decided to cooperate. Milan was curled up in the backseat of the car listening to the demo he let the priest listen to. His eyebrows were knit together as he looked deep in thought. His fingers were drumming beat against his tiny thighs as the car kept moving towards their destination. "That's off...." He muttered as the car hit the breaks as the light suddenly turned from yellow to red. Milan dug around and made a note in a beat up journal before setting the journal to the side. His eyes shifted over to where his friend sat. Milan took out one earbud before leaning over to poke the others face. "If you don't smile I'll be forced to bring out the tickle monsters." He cutely threatened. "So what's up doc?" He smiled to the point his dimples where showing. His eyes were intently trained on his friend. Milan didn't want the other to feel like he was a burden or unimportant so he made attempts to snap out of his own world and check in on the other. He scooted over before using his friend's shoulder as a pillow. "I just wanted to let you know... I'm glad despite me being a massive jerkface back then that you actually accepted my invite. It's bee nice...getting to catch up. I'm just sorry I haven't had time for us to like do normal best friend things. I'll try to make time for that." Milan closed his eyes, the sweet smile still on his face as he rested.

Once the car stopped at their destination it seemed as if their sweet moment of calm was just a distant memory. Milan got out of the car to a roar of cheers and screams. Fans were already lined up to meet him and ecstatic when he finally arrived. He'd wave at them as he waited on his crew to get out of the van. Milan looked over to Charlie. "Kinda frightening isn't it? To think that many people care about me and my music so much that they'd wait in this sort of weather to say hello." He shook his head in disbelief before he was ushered into the building.
The time spent inside the building felt like it dragged on for ages. Milan was sat at a table where he'd sign autographs, take selfies with fans, receive gifts, and just interact with fans. Some people would have a video call going on and ask him to say hello to a friend or family member who couldn't make it. One call in particular almost choked the musician up. A girl had Milan say something to one of her friends who was in hospital getting chemo. Milan sent a sweet and encouraging message. Several people knew about his love of foxes and gave him plushies which he'd react oh so cutely over. And then there was all the hugs and sweet words of encouragement and thanks he'd say to his treasured fans. The way he interacted with them all was very individualized, personal, and 100% genuine. But as the hours dragged on it was evident Milan was running on fumes yet he kept trying his hardest to make sure everyone was seen. However everything turned south....

There was some sort of commotion going on towards the back of the line. This drew Milan's attention who, despite being warned by multiple people not to intervene; made his way back there to try and peacefully settle things. If only he'd listened to his handlers. The moment Milan moved the crowd got excited and wanted to see what was going on. People broke out of line to follow after him and soon it turned into a frenzy of people chasing after him. Milan was lost in the massive crowd. His body guard ran towards where he thought he'd seen him. "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"The body guard shouted. Milan's calls for help were drown out by the screams and chaos. People were grabbing at him, tugging on him, pulling him, and eventually he'd be knocked over and trampled."C---CHARLIE! HELP!" He shouted, hoping that maybe his friend was nearby.
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by laurel on Sat Aug 06, 2016 11:52 pm

The amount of people remained to be a little shocking, but Milan was a trooper and smiled brightly for each of his fans. He was polite, kind, and servicing. The Milan that went on stage was essentially the same Milan he experienced. He even excused himself to Charlie, who just shrugged his shoulders, “It was nice," he said softly, "It isn’t often you hear Baroque pieces played. Especially not from a DJ.”

As they exited, the boy explained that the meet-and-greet would be lengthy. It wouldn’t be the first one that Milan had during Charlie’s stay, but the few other times he had stayed home and probably vegetated in front of the TV. He couldn’t quite remember, so it was probably the TV that pickled what remained of his brain. He decided that today he would stay, for no reason in particular. It could’ve been that he felt bored, but it was more like he was feeling a little isolated. Lonely. The word made him want to gag. Milan continued to provide reasons for why he would probably be better off on heading back to the apartment, but…

“Mmm, I’ll wait for you,” he said, craning his neck back to see the pale, blue sky,  “My jacket is warm,” Funny thing was that he was still cold. Talk about the irony of having thick fleece. He couldn’t seem to get warm anywhere but the apartment, really. “And I don’t mind waiting,” he added offhandedly.

The two walked back as Milan thought back on his fame, saying that he missed what he used to be because now there was no freedom. Charlie imagined that if Milan really wanted, he could end the contracts that bound him to all this frivolous fan stuff, but the smaller male probably felt that he owed it to his fans. It wasn’t as if he would be completely blocked off from his fans if he did things differently, though. Charlie hoped that Milan would realize that, too, one day, but he wasn't in the mood to start anything or try and persuade his friend that he worked too much. Before he changed his mind about saying anything, the manager approached them with a trot. Charlie followed with a lazy sort of haste.

During the beginning of the car ride, he remained quiet. Milan was getting in a few notes done in his worn-out journal—it had obviously seen many years, and probably had listened to Milan’s secrets and confessions through melodies and quickly written notes. Whether much of it was unpublished, Charlie had scarcely a clue. He only watched his companion’s hands as he jotted down some newfound information and put it away. He looked up at him, some mischief in his eyes… Which was a little surprising? Not often that this sweet angel was mischievous. Perhaps the more innocent term he was looking for was 'playful'?

The dark-haired male shook his head at the small threat, his lips barely quirking up as he sank into his seat a little, “I’d rather avoid those kinds of monsters.”

“So, what’s up, doc?”

“The sky, I guess,” he lamely quipped. He was distracted by something invisible. His dark eyes avoided Milan’s blues—they looked down, at the back of the driver’s head, at his hands that he wrung for warmth and out of anxiousness. Why was he anxious right now? Was it the sudden attention? He couldn’t place it; only knew how uncomfortable he was and that his heart was pumping faster as if he was getting ready to flee… But he didn’t want to leave—he was with Milan, the one he lo—

When the younger boy put his head on Charlie’s shoulders, he felt so pained. So miserable with the way his heart clenched cruelly. How could something so wonderful be inches away tangibly, and yet be leagues and leagues away from what he really longed for? Milan’s confession pained him further. ’It was always me being the massive jerk, Milan.’ His throat constricted, “You—“ he swallowed thickly and tried again, “You’re always doing more than enough for everyone. You don’t need to worry about me. We’ll find time.” A small, wry smile formed on his lips and he dared himself to sink his head a few inches so his cheek would be nestled against Milan’s soft hair. He stopped before he fell in too deep—well, deeper. He was already in too far.

There was some relief in him—and some regret—as Milan pushed himself off of his shoulder and got out of the car. He came around the back of the car and stood beside his beloved friend and looked at the crowd. He put a foot or so between them so the fans wouldn’t get the wrong idea (or the right one, had the world been perfect for Charlie). He rubbed his elbow nervously: this was a hell of a lot of people. It was frightening. If Charlie had 2/567ths of the luck Milan had, maybe he could get twenty people at a gig to listen to him. But this was madness—the place was teeming with waving arms and shrieking fifteen year olds. There were fans of all ages and ethnicities and social standings. Maybe this was why Milan loved his fanbase, and why they loved him. Love does not discriminate.

Charlie found a seat behind the booth so that he was out of sight. He talked a little with Milan’s manager—maybe a total of twelve words in exchange since he was busy planning future meetings and appointments and whatever else managers did. He watched quietly from the sidelines as Milan smiled brightly and genuinely interacted with these people. It wore on, and Milan’s smiles did not lose their ingenuity, though he did seem to tire. Charlie took a break to respond to Cleo’s text (his twin never failed to check up on him every few days; she may have been prom queen material, but she still was affectionate enough). He sent the reply and got up to stretch and check up on Milan’s progress. The fans never really seemed to die down…

There was some yelling, and his brow scrunched up at the disorder. He poked his head out in time to see the bobbing head of his favorite brunette as he made his way to the back. Then the crowd swarmed in excitement, like locusts to a fine, fertile crop, and then Charlie could no longer see the small-statured male. A gush of fear burned through his veins. ’Where did he go? Where did he go, where did he—‘

Charlie was already busting through the crowds with the viciousness of a wolverine. A few fans yelped in pain as he shoved through them, his breathing hard as he screamed back to the call of his own name, “MILAN!”

Someone’s flailing hands jabbed him at the sides, but he barreled through them, and he could’ve sworn that someone’s stray finger had made it between his teeth when he had a hard time getting through (for old time’s sake!).

He snarled, “Get the hell out of the way!” Some indistinct angry reply, more confusion, more deafening screams. “You’re hurting him!” He saw the wisps of Milan’s hair in some small pocket just two layers ahead as the crowd engulfed and swallowed him whole. Charlie’s body used this rush of adrenaline to his advantage—he borrowed the backs of unsuspecting fans and vaulted over their heads, rolling in and parting people with his sudden entrance. It was his turn to engulf Milan in his own arms as he swatted others’ hands away. “What the hell is wrong with you people!?” he screamed in his native tongue; he was sure most of these Dutchmen wouldn’t even understand him, but he was livid. How could fans do something as stupid as trample their own idol?

Charlie tucked Milan’s head underneath his chin and held him in his arms; the bodyguard wasn’t far behind him and he and a few other security members were making their way (more peacefully) through the crowds. He clutched Milan tight as he ran to the safety of the back of the booth, whispering shakily, “Are you alright, Milan? Are you okay? Are you alright?” he couldn’t shut his nervous mouth, and the adrenaline was finally wearing off while in the closure of this area. The fatigue hit his body, his breathing still ragged from all the violent maneuvers, but he was still too worried. He put his lips to reddened fingers that had been stepped on, “I’m so sorry, I should have been watching, I should have stopped you…” Charlie buried his nose into Milan’s hair. “You’re safe now…”
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by mighty_minnie on Tue Aug 09, 2016 10:56 pm

Milan chuckled hearing Charlie's response. "Well, I was trained as a classical musician before I swapped to electronic music in middle school closer to early high school." He commented. It was true. His parents had high hopes that their little savant would be playing sold out theaters, opera houses, and symphony halls not stadiums, festivals, or for large sporting events. "Needless to say I already disappointed my parents once but I think they're finally warming up to my music career. I add some touches of classical in my pieces kind as a way of showing I haven't totally forgotten my musical roots." He gives a nervous little chuckle. It was a different experience going from playing for government officials, business CEOs, and classical music lovers to people closer to his own age, sports fanatics, and festival goers. Though honestly it didn't upset him so long as he could share music with people and bring joy to their lives even for a short moment. A smile appeared on his face. "Stick around long enough and who knows what other classical songs I'll play next." He snickered as a cheeky little grin appeared on his face.

"Don't complain if your butt goes numb from hours of sitting on it." Milan said with a little chuckle. Charlie did tend to complain about his backside hurting from time to time. Maybe he'd just have to get the other out of the apartment more but how? The petite brunette was snapped from his thoughts when his companion mentioned his jacket being warm. A fuzzy eye brow arched at the random comment. "That's good, yeah? You always seem so cold..." He muttered as a worried expression appeared on his face. "I know it's like super cold here compared to your home but do you think there's like a medical reason for you being so cold?" Milan asked. He wasn't a doctor but Charlie sure was cold often. He tired to keep the apartment at a slightly warmer temp than normal for his friend but even that and a mountain of blankets didn't seem to help the other much. "Maybe we could visit a sauna? Get you nice and toasty in one of those. There's a nice spa not too far from the apartment. I think I went once?" He shrugged. His schedule and life was so busy it was hard to remember what all he had done.

"Awww you're no fun!" Milan cutely pouted when Charlie said he'd rather not tango with the tickle monsters.

"Oh haha you're sooooo funny." Big blue eyes rolled before his head shook. Charlie seemed kinda off. It had the young musician worried. Was he failing at paying his friend enough attention? Did the crowd at the church during their downtime upset him? Was he sad that they didn't have enough opportunities to themselves to goof off and catch up for lost time? All these thoughts raced through Milan's mind as he tried harder to be more in the here and now and less inside his own mind.

"You-" The other started to speak but seemed to have trouble getting the words out. Milan felt his heart slam into his chest. Me what? His expression read anxious as he nervously waited for Charlie to finish what he had to say. “You’re always doing more than enough for everyone. You don’t need to worry about me. We’ll find time.” Though the words sounded nice and would put most people at ease; Milan wasn't most people. Often times he read too deeply into situations and made more out of a small gesture, a stutter, or a gaze than the average person. He was so anxious and worried all the time about letting people down that it had become his own kryptonite. It severely crippled him and often left him weak from trying so hard. Yet, Milan persisted and would wear himself out just to make someone else happy. It's just always how he's been. The brunette didn't look convinced by his friend's words. "I'll try harder..." He said softly.
The moment he felt the crowd swarm around him filled him with the most anxiety he had felt in a long time. Worse than the first time he took to the stage at a large music festival to play his very first originally produced set. All he was trying to do was settle the first situation not cause a frenzy.

"CHARLIE!" That was the first name to come to mind. He wasn't sure why in his moment of panic and crisis he called out for the other male but it just slipped out. People started muttering things like; "Charlie?" "Who's Charlie?" The murmurs of curious fans made Milan almost regret blurting out his friend's name like that. He had tried so hard to keep Charlie away from the fans, to not imply things that he might feel towards his friend, and give the world the wrong (or right if he was being fully honest with himself) impression.

But maybe calling out for Charlie was the best idea as his friend was tearing through the crowd with the viciousness of a wolverine. He heard his friend call back but it was hard to hear among the muttering, screams, and screeches of the fans. Though one thing was apparent; Charlie was much more nimble than his bodyguard who was also fighting off the massive crowd of people flocked around Milan.

“You’re hurting him!” Blue eyes looked in the direction of the familiar voice. People were being rather violently shoved out of the way as a wild mane of black hair came barreling towards him. Milan tried reaching out but people tried intercepting his outstretched hand. The mousy brunette was too tired and ended up collapsing on the floor. That's when he felt someone step on his ribs. A pained whimper left him as he fought back tears that were forming in his eyes. It felt like a baby rhino had stepped on him. As if he wasn't a scrawny little bean pole to begin with; adding the weight of a full grown human on him wasn't ideal. Then a sharp pain radiated through his hand as a converse crushed his fingers. "O---ow!" He bit on his lower lip trying to keep calm and not get overwhelmed by everything though that was proving more difficult as the crowd was being pushed around.

Someone nearly tripped and fell over the crumpled up Milan but thankfully his bodyguard had caught her before she literally crushed him. Charlie had arrived and scooped him up in his arms. Milan looked so exhausted, frail, and beaten up. His eyes were watery as he was trying to fight through the pain of being stepped on. “Are you alright, Milan? Are you okay? Are you alright?” All he could do was try to put on a smile for Charlie. He didn't want to worry the other. His face nearly betrayed him. When he went to take a breath he winced but Milan quickly tried masking the pain with another feeble smile. "I--I'll be okay."

When they finally made it to the safety of the far side of the room; Charlie was saying things along the lines of that he should've been watching him better, that he should've stopped him, but this wasn't Charlie's job. "Shhh..." Milan put a bruised finger against the others lip. "I--It's my fault. I should've let the staff handle it but I didn't want anyone getting thrown out." He looked pained as he spoke. "Th---they waited so long to see me.... I just....I just wanted to see if I could calm the situation without anyone getting kicked out." A frown appeared on his face before being replaced by a look of extreme discomfort. His eye tightly shut as he winced. It felt like the whole room was spinning and before he knew it Milan has passed out.

While Milan was passed out the crew had managed to get him to the car. He wasn't sure who's lap his head was resting in but he was thankful to whom ever it was. The car ride was fast as the driver hurried to get him to a doctor to be checked out so the comfy lap provided a less bumpy ride for the passed out Milan.

The manager hurried had a doctor on call and they were met by said doctor. The doctor examined Milan; looked at the bruises, checked his pupils, his pulse, his heart, but the worst part came when the doctor noticed the footprint on his shirt. Lifting up the shirt; the doctor noticed the ugly purple-green bruise on his left rib. Milan yelped in pain as the doctor examined the bruised rib. "You're lucky." The doctor commented. "I believe it's bruised or he possibly has a hair line fracture. I'll need to take him back for a X-Ray to rule that possibility out. Either way... is this child getting enough nutrition? Look at how thin and gaunt he looks. This doesn't look like the same boy I saw a few months back." The doctor gave the manager a stern look. "It's your job to make sure he's looked after." The doctor commented before they went to take Milan for an X Ray.

After awhile the doctor returned with Milan (who still looked miserable) and shared the results. "It's a fractured rib." The doctor explained. "He'll need painkillers, ice packs, and plenty of time off to heal." The gaze drifted to the young manager who had his phone in his face. Milan looked disappointed by the news. "B---but!" He was going to insist that he didn't need too much down time but the doctor gave him a look that honestly frightened him. His gaze shifted down like a kid who had gotten scolded. "So you'll have to postpone some of those live shows. You could do radio interviews from home but I really want you to take it easy. Your overall health really could use some improvements." The doctor said.

With the visit taken care of it was time to go home. The car ride was oddly silent. The manager was busy trying to see how to rearrange Milan's schedule around his injury and do any damage control involving the meet and greet gone wrong. It was as he was scrolling through tweets that something caught his attention. It was a picture of Charlie holding Milan. The comments were full of speculations on what their relationship to each other is. People mentioning the "over protective look" on Charlie's face, the "tenderness" with which he was holding the other, and how the other was like "a mama bear protecting her cub". The manager groaned. Great, just great! He went on tumblr and people were already "shipping" them. "Isn't it just so sweet how he rushed to Milan's rescue!" "D'aww so that's Charlie. I can see why Milan called for his help ; P " "Look at them! I can't get over how cute they look!!" "Shipping this so hard #Charmi #precious babies #imkindajealousthatidon'thavesomeoneholdingmelikethat #ineedabf" The manager knew he'd have to talk to Charlie about this soon.

Once they got to the house; the manager instructed the bodyguard to get Milan settle inside and decided to approach Charlie about this trending topic. "So... I see how quickly you got to Milan back there. You even beat out our trained guard. That's pretty impressive...." His voice trailed off. "But I'm curious about a few things..." He pulled his phone out and showed Charlie the posts. "Is there something more serious going on here that I should know about? Because the internet seems to love over protective friend Charlie and Milan a lot. They even pointed out in some of Milan's instas that you're in how you have this "look" anytime you're nearby. Needless to say #Charmi is already trending. So is there a Charmi in real life? I mean why the hell have you been living here past my client's generous invitation to apologize for ditching a bunch of has been high school friends? Everyone else got the hint and left when the return ticket said to but not you. You asked to stay longer. I thought okay....it'll be another week at most but hell you've been here half a year. What's the deal? Do you love him? If not then get back to your life already and quit being a burden on his. I mean really... all you do is free load and Milan is too sweet to say that. You've become dependent on him...in more ways than one." The manager said bluntly. "And if you do anything stupid to ruin Milan's career ... you'll have a lot of people to answer to. So you better play your cards right and stay in line if you wanna keep your free loading lifestyle up." He nearly threatened. "Now if you don't mind I have to do damage control on Charmi before fans start getting hysterical over the idea of their precious idol dating someone like you...." With that the manager left.
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Re: Charmed by You

Post by laurel on Sun Aug 14, 2016 1:02 am

Back at the booth, Charlie was able to more fully see the damages done on Milan’s frail frame. He cradled him carefully, propping him up on a cushioned chair. He kneeled down in front of the smaller male, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. The obvious flinching, the small, pained smile, “I-I’ll be okay.” Charlie could have lost it right then and there, but he continued to shake his head and gingerly rubbed comforting circles into Milan’s palm, avoiding the damaged digits. “You’re not okay right now, though. They freaking trampled you… You’re hurt, Milan…”

The other male put a finger to his lips and hushed him, but as he explained his reasoning, Charlie’s lip trembled and he watched as Milan slipped out of consciousness. His fans were literally going to kill him, yet he felt so much love for them; like he actually owed them something besides the wonderful music he made. The brunette clenched his hands and unclenched as his head spun with a thousand thoughts, but there was a new panic in him. He gently shook Milan’s shoulder, then pulled him into his arms with urgency, carrying him like a little porcelain doll. “You’re going to be okay… You’re going to be okay…” Nobody knew whether Charlie was saying this to reassure Milan in his unconscious state, or to comfort himself in a moment of disaster.

His bodyguard and manager helped Charlie carry the small male to the car and get him settled in. They ended up setting his head up against Charlie’s lap. He only hoped there was no invisible damage done to Milan’s head. With any luck, it was just the pain and exhaustion that forced his body to shut off.

They made it to the hospital for his emergency examination. The bodyguard drew up a wheelchair and Charlie adjusted Milan’s unconscious body in it. As they quickly rolled him to the examination room, the idol began to stir and regain consciousness. Charlie was asked to wait outside, but he could vaguely hear the conversation from outside the door. Poor nutrition, fractured rib, postponed shows, some protest from Milan, and then silence. Charlie drew a knee up to his chest and rested his head against it as he waited for the soft dialogue to end. The smell of antiseptic spray and rubber gloves made him think back to Milan’s comment about his own health. Maybe there really was something wrong with him? But he couldn’t really think back to a time where he hadn’t been the way he was. He’d always just been Charlie: moody, cranky, determinedly hopeless, and cynically optimistic.

The car ride back to the apartment was drearily quiet. He kept his mouth shut, looking at his hands just as he had on the car ride over to the meet-and-greet. The steady quiet was only broken by a groan in the front passenger seat as Milan’s manager groaned very audibly. Charlie looked up for a moment questioningly, but the manager was preoccupied. He discreetly crossed his arms to keep himself warm, then turned to the window to the grey skies that drizzled light rain.

When they got back into the apartment, Milan must have known that there would be no fighting over his condition because he quietly complied with their commands to settle into bed and rest. After his door was closed up, the manager returned to the living room and eyed Charlie sternly.

He listened silently, feeling his heartbeat speed up to the point where he could hear it in his eardrums. But he kept a straight face, not letting his guard down despite the unexpected compliment that the other man led off on. It was true that he was fast and made some unexpected maneuvers: he had hung out with skater kids for a long time, and he tried parkour and was fairly good at it. His jumping today had been a tad rusty, but for someone who hadn’t done it in around eight years, it was alright. His abilities had landed him in a difficult position, though—one that was fully realized when Milan’s manager pushed his phone (that he was constantly on) to Charlie. The younger male carefully read the captions to pictures posts where he and Milan had been edited to have sparkles and hearts haloed around their faces. The phone was withdrawn fairly quickly and the manager prattled on seriously. Something going on between himself and Milan?

He found himself choking, trying to find words that made sense in response to such an audacious and assumptive question. He was literally being interrogated . “He’s my… best friend. I can’t just watch as he lets himself be engorged by his fans or forgets to take care of himself… Of course I’m worried.” But it looked like the manager wasn’t buying it.

Charlie didn’t really have anything to say about his overstay. It hadn’t been anywhere near to six months since his stay was limited to ninety days, but he knew he had been here a lot longer than any normal “guest” would have.

He blushed at his next set of questions. Did he love Milan? “Of course I love him,” He was blurting out his response before he could properly think about what he meant, but he caught himself. ”He and I always would hang out at my parents’ house and we had a rivalry in band. He’s been a part of my life long before this. He’s like family…” He looked down. That wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the full truth. He couldn’t say it. The only person he’d only briefly even mentioned these feelings to was Cleo, and after Milan left, Charlie was so angry at him that he was sure his twin had figured he never wanted to see his crush ever again. He obviously cooled down after some point, but it wasn’t like he ever recovered fully until he was able to see Milan again. He was able to see all the things he’d done in such a short span of time—and as much as he had missed him, he truly was proud of all of the things that his meek friend had accomplished.

“All personal ties aside, I would never do anything to cause damage to all of his work,” he said softly, but convincingly. ”I guess… I guess I’ll back off. If the internet is taking this seriously when it’s not, I guess I’ll have to…”

Silence. The manager stared at him, as if he was daring him to make a move—future or present—but he was done with his warning and made for the door to leave. It was just Charlie and Milan again.

How long had he been here?.. As of the day before, that would have been his seventh week here. Maybe the manager was right… He had spent ages here. And 90 days was approaching very quickly; he had less than a month to really decide what he wanted to do. First thing was first, though, and that was to help Milan recover. It would’ve been nice for there to have been better circumstances for one-on-one time, but he would take the hand he was dealt with, even if that meant that Milan missed his performance this evening. But after Milan got better? Charlie had a little bit over a month to help him do so, but after that, the Netherlands would have to say bon voyage to shitty, little Charlie. God knows everyone would be better off without him, but he actually was feeling some remorse. Some guilt and the painful light that someone shines on you while you’re having an amazing dream, and you wake up disoriented and realize that your naïve wishes were purely just that. Reality was hard.

Charlie bit hard into his lip, leaving teeth marks indented into his skin without drawing blood. How long did he expect the fantasy to go on? He carried himself to Milan’s room and knocked on the door before coming in, ”Hey.” He looked in, a bit too grimly, but he couldn’t fix the way his muscles were pulling down at his mouth. Correcting it only made his face tremble. ”We need to talk…” Way to be ominous, Charlie. Way to go.
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Re: Charmed by You

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