Paris Fabian Hart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foreverfabulous) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2016-10-02 01:05 pm
foreverfabulous) wrote in muserevival2016-10-02 01:05 pm
Entry tags:
128.2. Quote
"Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway." - John Wayne
Paris usually prided himself on being in immaculate, pristine condition. He was always exceptionally groomed, swathed in expensive designer-label clothes, and fit as a fiddle. His presentation befitted the job he did, and rarely did he sway from that. Even his 'casual' attire were the best leisurewear available. There were only a select few who saw him with these masks slipped.
That day, he was anything but this. He was sitting in the waiting room of the Oncology Unit at the hospital. It was busy, with many people there in various stages of cancer diagnosis and treatment, waiting to see the Oncologists. He was going to beat them all to the chase because he had been squeezed in as an urgent appointment. That was confronting in itself, but it was just as nerve-wracking for him to be in that room. His mother had died of breast cancer, and he was staring down the barrel of a possible Big C diagnosis himself. His nerves were shot to pieces. The only thing stopping him from losing his shit was the fact he was feeling shit.
Minutes before this, he had been yelling at his father and sister in the corridor. Anger was masking the fear. All it had taken was a gentle, 'When your mom--' from his Dad and Paris exploded with an angry burst of, 'I'M NOT MOM!' It showed how near breaking point he had become in concern for his health right now. He wasn't really angry at them, but the subject of their mom coming up had really tipped him over the edge. They meant well, trying to reassure him how exceptional his mom's treatment had been here at this very hospital, but she had died, so it wasn't doing Paris' mindset waiting on results of his tests to come through.
Today, he wasn't dressed in his own clothing at all. Instead, his husband's casual attired was more comfortable for him. A pair of grey sweatpants with Mikey's Fast FCUK sweater. One his feet were black UGG boots and his sensitive eyes were covered with mirrored RayBan aviator sunglasses because the fluorescent lights were making his headache worse. His curly blonde hair was being unruly because when he had gotten up to come to the hospital, he only absentmindedly ran his brush through it without any styling or product whatsoever. He was feeling like hell.
He was sitting between his husband and sister, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his hands over his ears. The murmur of chatting from other patients was even too much for him. The smallest of sounds were grating on his pounding headache too. At least he wasn't roadkill on the floor this time like he had been at a few intervals of late. But with his eyes closed behind the sunglasses, he didn't see Angela and Emily come into the waiting room for Emily's appointment. No one but his immediately family knew cancer was potentially on the table, but this was revealing his secret. And while he was sitting there looking like utter shit too. If he had seen them, he would've felt agitated that he anyone but his family were seeing him like this.
He felt Mikey pry his fingers gently from ears and came close with a whisper of, "Do you want some water, sweetheart? You should try to keep the fluids up." Mikey, ever the beautiful carer that he was. Paris was in good hands. He knew that. It just didn't make any of this easier to face. All he could do was take his balls in hand, and deal with it. There were no other alternative. Being scared wasn't a reason to ignore the possibility of cancer. If you did, you could drop dead. He wasn't ready to join his mom in the ground yet. He just had to keep going.
paris hart
original character
Paris usually prided himself on being in immaculate, pristine condition. He was always exceptionally groomed, swathed in expensive designer-label clothes, and fit as a fiddle. His presentation befitted the job he did, and rarely did he sway from that. Even his 'casual' attire were the best leisurewear available. There were only a select few who saw him with these masks slipped.
That day, he was anything but this. He was sitting in the waiting room of the Oncology Unit at the hospital. It was busy, with many people there in various stages of cancer diagnosis and treatment, waiting to see the Oncologists. He was going to beat them all to the chase because he had been squeezed in as an urgent appointment. That was confronting in itself, but it was just as nerve-wracking for him to be in that room. His mother had died of breast cancer, and he was staring down the barrel of a possible Big C diagnosis himself. His nerves were shot to pieces. The only thing stopping him from losing his shit was the fact he was feeling shit.
Minutes before this, he had been yelling at his father and sister in the corridor. Anger was masking the fear. All it had taken was a gentle, 'When your mom--' from his Dad and Paris exploded with an angry burst of, 'I'M NOT MOM!' It showed how near breaking point he had become in concern for his health right now. He wasn't really angry at them, but the subject of their mom coming up had really tipped him over the edge. They meant well, trying to reassure him how exceptional his mom's treatment had been here at this very hospital, but she had died, so it wasn't doing Paris' mindset waiting on results of his tests to come through.
Today, he wasn't dressed in his own clothing at all. Instead, his husband's casual attired was more comfortable for him. A pair of grey sweatpants with Mikey's Fast FCUK sweater. One his feet were black UGG boots and his sensitive eyes were covered with mirrored RayBan aviator sunglasses because the fluorescent lights were making his headache worse. His curly blonde hair was being unruly because when he had gotten up to come to the hospital, he only absentmindedly ran his brush through it without any styling or product whatsoever. He was feeling like hell.
He was sitting between his husband and sister, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his hands over his ears. The murmur of chatting from other patients was even too much for him. The smallest of sounds were grating on his pounding headache too. At least he wasn't roadkill on the floor this time like he had been at a few intervals of late. But with his eyes closed behind the sunglasses, he didn't see Angela and Emily come into the waiting room for Emily's appointment. No one but his immediately family knew cancer was potentially on the table, but this was revealing his secret. And while he was sitting there looking like utter shit too. If he had seen them, he would've felt agitated that he anyone but his family were seeing him like this.
He felt Mikey pry his fingers gently from ears and came close with a whisper of, "Do you want some water, sweetheart? You should try to keep the fluids up." Mikey, ever the beautiful carer that he was. Paris was in good hands. He knew that. It just didn't make any of this easier to face. All he could do was take his balls in hand, and deal with it. There were no other alternative. Being scared wasn't a reason to ignore the possibility of cancer. If you did, you could drop dead. He wasn't ready to join his mom in the ground yet. He just had to keep going.
original character