A thousand words [Elias]

Ezra was a pretty outgoing guy who loved to be friends with most anyone he met. Even so, meeting Elias Deyer for drinks was not something he ever thought he would do. They were on friendly terms at school. Ezra had seen some of his writing while they were working together and had really enjoyed his crativity. He supposed that made them friendly at least, but he had honestly never expected to see the guy again once school was over. He had been surprised to get a nice letter from him wanting to catch up. It made Ezra feel happy and excited. He loved to be liked.

He had considered the location carefully, and had decided against the loud karaoke bar he went to for Janae and Jam’s birthday, and also agains thte dueling piano bar he frequented. Both were too loud to really hold a conversation, and the point of this was to catch up, right? He wondered if there was some kind of special night—triva, music, something. He found a poetry jam at a nearby club, and decided that would be really cool. He wasn’t really a poet himself, but he could write a little bit. He decided to write something simple, in case they made him read something. It was short and terrible but rather funny. He pocked  it, just in case.

He considered smoking a bit before he went out, but decided not to. He wanted a good impression on Elias for some reason—perhaps it was that picture he had sent? Elias had gotten cuter since graduation, or at least since the last time Ezra noticed him. Ezra didn’t consider this a date or anything, but he wanted to seem desirable too. He slicked back his hair and put on a classic wrock t-shirt, straight-legged dark denim, and black boots. He put a flannel shirt over his shoulders in case it got chilly. HE walked the short distance to the club, and took a seat  at the bar, away from the stage so they could talk without being too rude.

Elias better not stand him up.

@Elias Deyer

Elias had changed at least five different times at this point, before deciding to settle on his new regular outfit; tyrian purple quidditch tee shirt, under a leather jacket that barely touched the waist of his dark wash, distressed jeans. Elias fixed his hair in the mirror as his mind wandered about, contemplating the night ahead. He knew that this was just two schoolmates reconnecting, and he had a boyfriend, but he couldn't help but worry and fuss about his first impression. Ezra was a pretty cool guy; smart and funny, good looking, and made lots of friends very easily. Elias on the other hand was difficult to make friends with, was snarky, and liked being alone. His favorite season was winter for Merlin's sake! Winter! You know that season where everything is smothered in a white cocoon, waiting for the warmer months to bring it back to life? Yes, that one.

Would Ezra even want to hang out with him after he finds out how utterly boring he is? The blonde shook his head as he looked in the mirror. "Fuck, Eli, you're really going to do this?" he asked himself aloud, his mismatched eyes finding their counterparts in the reflection. He tried to shake off the feeling that this night was about to be a disaster, but he just couldn't. What did he have to offer Ezra in terms of friendship? What redeeming qualities did he have? "Well, time to show the world how awkward and not suave I really am." he admonished as he left his bathroom, making his way towards the door. He slipped on high-top Chuck Taylors, and rolled up the hems of his pants, revealing a hint of his matching purple quidditch socks, before finally checking himself out in the hall mirror. "Good enough.. Fraud." he chuckled as he grabbed his keys, apparating as soon as he got out the door and closed it.

Moments later, he appeared in an alley way in London, nestled next to the bar he was supposed to meet Ezra at. On the other side of the alley was a loud disco with a supremely huge muggle bouncer, blocking the entrance. Good thing Ezra didn't want to meet there, too loud. He turned the corner, out of the alley, fixing his jacket absent-mindly. He brushed past the throngs of people on the street rushing at him in the opposite direction, probably trying in vain to get into that club on the other side. He looked up at the banner that was affixed to the regular sign stating the club's name, squinting to make out what it said, cursing himself for forgetting his glasses in the name of fashion.

"Poetry Jam" he read aloud to himself, "So that's why Ezra wanted me to bring a piece of poetry I've written..." He suddenly felt self-conscious, and took the piece of muggle college-ruled paper out of his pocket. Cocoon of Winter, he'd called it at the time, now in retrospect the name seemed silly, almost childish. He stood in the entrance, reading his piece of paper to himself, trying to make sense of what fifteen-probably sixteen year old Elias Deyer was thinking. He looked up briefly, and saw Ezra sitting at the bar from across the room. Even in profile, he was as cool as he remembered the former Hufflepuff being. He walked slowly over to Ezra, replacing the piece of paper back into his jacket pocket.

Ezra had picked a space away from the crowd so they could talk without shouting, which Elias appreciated. He slipped into the barstool next to Ezra, and called for the bartender, "Two whiskeys, please." he said, not knowing what Ezra drank regularly. He thought that most guys liked things like whiskey, scotch, and bourbon. He couldn't say he absolutely loved whiskey, but a shot or two wouldn't kill him. The bartender made them pretty quickly and slid them down the bar to Elias, whom set the extra one in front of Ezra.

"Good to see you in person, Ezra. You look cool as ever." he said, genuinely smirking as he clasped his hand around the glass of whiskey, which he was not expecting. Clearly the bar wanted loose lips in this poetry jam, so he was happy to oblige, because he certainly wasn't going to be sober for it. "A poetry jam, eh? I feel like I've been bamboozled into sharing my deepest inner thoughts with you, and we've only just reconnected." he grinned, teasing Ezra just to test the waters. He felt like such a phony, acting so cool, when all he wanted to do was just run for it, and never speak to anyone ever again.

He looked at Ezra, who looked even better up close. His androgynous facial features were attractive, curtained by curly black locks, which reminded him of Parker instantly. He sighed internally as he thought of Parker, out there living his life to the fullest, finding his dream. He was snapped out of his daydream by the emcee of the night starting the event.

 "Looks like it's starting, Ezra," he said quietly to the Brightonion. "Interesting choice, by the way." The reason eluded him as to why Ezra would bring him to a poetry jam. Though he was a writer, he hadn't written poetry except for Parker, and occasionally while he was feeling angsty in the dome. He supposed Ezra did this regularly though; go to these artsy, creative things to maybe supplement his bands songwriting capabilities. Perhaps, but maybe it was just another thing that Ezra did that made him cool, unique, and likable. Perhaps, Elias needed to learn to be a bit like Ezra. Only time would tell if that would happen, however.

Ezra smiled as Elias arrived, looking too cool to be there. Ezra wasn’t the coolest cat. He wasn’t a cat at all—that was more Circe’s territory. He thought he was more like a lazy black lab, or well, no, he wasn’t cool enough to be a lab. Maybe some kind of small yippy dog would be a better comparison. Either way, not a cat. He was derpy, but Elias always had seemed to Ezra to have an air of being pretty cool and interesting. He was a writer, which Ezra had always appreciated. He wasn’t the most creative. Jam liked to write poetry and lyrics and raps. Ezra didn’t even write the music. He just kind of made jokes and he didn’t exactly write material—he just kind of sputtered out whatever came to his head in the moment, usually a load of random stupid gibberish. When Elias said he looked ‘cool’ he laughed at the joke.

Ezra took the second glass of whiskey with a smile, and ordered a side of coke as a chaser. He wasn’t cool enough to drink whiskey without a chaser. He tried taking down a big gulp without it and regretted the face he made afterwards. “Wow, so good.” He offered while cringing. He laughed a little bit. “Maybe that’s my secret,” he laughed. “I want to know all about your deepest, darkest secrets. You can spill anytime.” He teased, playfully. “You caught me, sir, now whatcha gonna do with me?” His coke was delivered and he quickly took a sip.

The jam was beginning behind them, and Ezra was half paying attention, half focused on Elias. He was sipping his Whiskey better now, chasing it with the coke. “So how’ve you been, man? You think you’re gonna read yours? I tried writing one, but it turned out terrible. I’m no writer. I remember you were pretty good, though. I bet yours is great. You should read it.” He smiled.

“Or, at least, you should let me read it.”  He laughed. “I bet it’s a love poem about my ass.” He joked playfully.

Ezra had the look of a puppy being given a treat at his compliment, and he loved that about Ezzy. Ezra was a very mellow Hufflepuff if he remembered correctly, and he'd been intrigued by Ezra's friendship with him, a very high strung, unsure about himself, person. For years, Elias had been trying to be this anti-Slytherin, reject the old ways, yet embrace all the houses, and was probably filled with so much self-hate in his teens because of his being sorted into Slytherin. In his final year at Hogwarts it dawned on him why he'd been sorted there; he was opportunistic, ambitious and loved being needed. Now he was left to the wolves, renting a flat in central London on his higher-than-the-average-intern Ministry salary, he felt like he was praying on poor Ezra. He hated himself for it, a bit.

He was feeding off of Ezra's appreciation of him and he didn't know if he appreciated Ezra enough in return, partly because it'd been lust that dragged him here. Now that he was face to face with Ezra, toe to toe with the former Hufflepuff's honesty and humor-filled banter, he couldn't bring himself to thing that he'd honestly come here for anything less than a quick shag. He took a swig of the cheap swill that the bar served, narrowing his eyes briefly as he let it go down his throat. He'd remind himself if he ever got a second chance to meet Ezra, he'd take him to that beautiful bar downtown. The one with the light jazz music, and 1/2 price tap craft beers on Tuesdays.

He'd nearly checked out of what Ezra was saying before bringing himself back down to earth. So Ezra had been wanting him to share his deepest, darkest secrets. He was tilted already, enough so that he wouldn't be embarrassed if he said something he regretted in the poem that he wrote. Cocoon of Winter, he'd titled it. Something he'd written during the time in the dome, melancholic and raw. He felt it in his soul that it'd be eye-opening for Ezra, probably determine if he wanted anything to do with Elias at the end of this.

"Fine Ezzyboi, I'll do it." he said, wavering his paper that he'd scrawled the poem onto, "I'll join in the slam." he swiveled around on the chair, tipsily walking towards the stage stairs. He quietly introduced himself to the emcee who was sitting off to stage right, only half-listening to the contrived drivel that the other was speaking. "I'll go next," he whispered to the emcee, "The piece of work I'm entering is titled Cocoon of Winter."

Of course, the emcee briefly scoffed at it, and said that Elias would be on next. No sooner had he said that then the current "jammer" as the contestants were called, ended her speech. Snaps and claps were had all around, Elias added his own as he was right next to the emcee and couldn't really exit gracefully. The emcee, a brunette thirty-something male walked on the stage with all the swagger of a twenty year old, his arms outstretched theatrically as he delivered his remarks on the piece, edited of course to be impartial.

"Thank you, Paula." he addressed the outgoing jammer as he swaggered about the stage, smiling to her as she left. "Next up we have Elias Deyer with... Cocoon of Winter." he said as if he was announcing the next great wizard of their time. Elias walked up on stage somewhat reluctantly, feeling in his bones that he was not ready to unleash a teenage angst filled memoir of his time in the dome. That year where he found the love of his life, found out the love of his life was polyamorous and accepted his fate. The fate he was now letting it be known to a couple hundred other patrons at the bar. And Ezra, can't forget Ezra. The one he thought would make him feel normal in all of this. I mean now he felt more or less normal, but would he after unleashing the torrent of emotions that was a poem written by someone who was bitterly in love with a polyamorous dream.

He felt his throat rise in his chest as he spoke the words he'd written. "You were the crown of my winter," he started, letting the words reverberate off the walls as he spoke into the microphone, rhythmically. "You were the one I would not let get bitter." His words fell off his lips as he let the words flow. He let the words march on as he spoke, hitting them with phrases like, "Of all the lions in my pride, I wanted you to be my guide." and, "Through two-toned eyes, I saw you, hate's demise." he'd spoken into the microphone, looking to lock eyes with Ezra. He finished big, "I was a butterfly, you the cocoon to my winter." he crescendo'd the angst filled trivial moments he'd felt with the last bar.

"Thank you." He bowed as he left stage right again, giving the microphone back to the emcee. He walked down the stairs, back to nursing his cup of whiskey with Ezra. He actually detested whiskey, but would allow its battery acid taste to run through his body as he sat back down and drank a sip. "How was that Ezra?" he smiled, satisfied with the job he'd done. "Your turn, Cohen!" he shouted rather loudly so the emcee would hear.

Ezra was not prepared for this. Not only did Elias give a very heart wrenching performance, but he also tapped Ezra to do the same. He did not know where to begin, what to say, where to start. How did he follow something so heavy? He cleared his throat as he approached the stage, having no idea what he was going to say. He grabbed the mic.

“Well thanks, Elias, for that fantastic performance. Unlike you, I have not prepared anything.” He admitted, to some chuckles from the crowd. “I’m Ezra, you might recognize my voice from the Wizarding Wireless Radio. I talk for a living, but I don’t rhyme.” He admitted, to a few more chuckles. The crowd was encouraging him, though he still was going entirely off the cuff.

“It’s not that I find Poetry a waste of time,” He said, very badly trying to rhyme, laughing lightly at his own lameness.  “I’m just not necessarily in my prime. After this, I might have to take up a job as a mime, cause I’m clearly really bad at the rhyme pastime.” He managed. “Elias, how was that to follow your Wintertime?” he teased.

He got a little lighthearted applause when he sheepishly handed the mic back to the emcee. “Sorry!” He laughed, on his way back.

“Well, you owe me another drink, sir.” He teased. “That was humiliating.”

Elias's eyes watched as Ezra walked on stage, watching him as he turned on his radio voice, instantly getting the crowd on his side. He couldn't decide if he was shocked or amused that Ezra held him captive, despite his admittedly poor attempt at rhyming. His eyes found Ezra's over his glass and he shot him an apologetic look. He never expected Ezra actually to do it, but then again, he'd surprised him by saying yes to meeting up with him.

"Nice job, Cohen," he said, clapping his hands together politely, "take a seat, and have another drink." Elias felt like the need for social lubricant was warranted considering what they'd just done. "Two more whiskeys." He said, politely tapping on the bar and getting the bartender's attention.

"So, for a person whose very good with words, you're really bad at rhyming, what's up with that?" He said a bit cheekily, bumping into Ezra playfully. He was fully enjoying being able to let loose a little bit from his stress-inducing job. "But, you did have my attention the whole time..." His eyes crinkled as his mouth morphed into a mischievous smirk. He wasn't sure where his boldness was coming from, but it might have had something to do with the alcohol he'd consumed without eating prior.

Either way, he supposed he appreciated the permission from his body to say things he might not have in another situation. He just hoped Ezra would humor him, at the very least.

“Who said I’m good with words?” He laughed. “I talk for a living, I guess, but I never have eyes watching me when I do it. I’m not that good with poetry. I actually wrote something in advance, but I was too afraid to read it. Felt like going off the cuff would be more entertaining—like bad karaoke.” He teased. “I almost took you to a singing bar. Could’ve sang to you. Know exactly what I would’ve sang to you.” He teased.

“Probably something really cliché like ‘pour some sugar on me’.” He did that one pretty frequently to impress pretty girls. He was also known for singing ‘Cherry Pie’ if there was a girl he was particularly interested in picking up.

“See, my plan to impress you with my stupidity worked perfectly. It was like a train wreck and you couldn’t look away.” He teased again. He reached for the whiskey when it came, and took the whole thing back in one large gulp, feeling a little buzzed now. Not drunk enough, though.

“So what’s your ulterior motive for getting me here? You couldn’t possibly just want to humiliate me and pay the pathetically meager bar tab it will take to get me fucked up.”