Chase pauses in the middle of the sequence, letting the music continue as he stop and turns to look at the door. When he sees that it's House, there's a faint smile, and that brief flash of worry recedes -- mostly. His feelings about House are still conflicted, but it's mostly because he's confused, more than anything else. He's not angry about what happened, even if he thinks that he should be. There's nothing to blame on House, and Chase isn't sure that he could blame him even if he wanted to. Which he doesn't.
"Hey," he says softly, reaching up and brushing a loose tendril of hair that had slipped from his ponytail back behind his ear. He's a little awkward, a little self-conscious, but more than that, he's just quiet. There's a little bit of sullen teenager about him, even if it's not full-fledged, light on the drama, and more just this persistent stillness. There's a tension in his movements that hadn't been there before, subtle, more noticeable in how he dances Odette than in rehearsals. He goes down to demi-pointe and then flat-footed, and moves in closer, the only sound that of his shoes on the floor.
He feels like he should say something, but there's both too much and not enough for him to say. He still wants him. He wants House to dance with him, and to touch him. He wants House to fuck him, which is terrifying and terrible, because he could never bring himself to want it with Brett. And Brett had been good to him. They went out, he'd bring him flowers, they talked and laughed and things had been good. Except that in the end, if Chase is honest with himself, he hadn't trusted him. And that hurts, somehow, in a way that he can't explain.
Being eighteen, he has no idea how to put any of this into words, and honestly lacks the desire to do so. So he just kind of looks at House, biting softly at his bottom lip.
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"Hey," he says softly, reaching up and brushing a loose tendril of hair that had slipped from his ponytail back behind his ear. He's a little awkward, a little self-conscious, but more than that, he's just quiet. There's a little bit of sullen teenager about him, even if it's not full-fledged, light on the drama, and more just this persistent stillness. There's a tension in his movements that hadn't been there before, subtle, more noticeable in how he dances Odette than in rehearsals. He goes down to demi-pointe and then flat-footed, and moves in closer, the only sound that of his shoes on the floor.
He feels like he should say something, but there's both too much and not enough for him to say. He still wants him. He wants House to dance with him, and to touch him. He wants House to fuck him, which is terrifying and terrible, because he could never bring himself to want it with Brett. And Brett had been good to him. They went out, he'd bring him flowers, they talked and laughed and things had been good. Except that in the end, if Chase is honest with himself, he hadn't trusted him. And that hurts, somehow, in a way that he can't explain.
Being eighteen, he has no idea how to put any of this into words, and honestly lacks the desire to do so. So he just kind of looks at House, biting softly at his bottom lip.