Love and Lust in NYC

[Smallz]

NYC, crowded, dirty, and loud. Even so, it had been Jude and Stevie's homes all their lives. It wasn't like they knew each other growing up---no it wasn't until they both were freshman roommates at Syracuse until they knew each other existed. From there on out, they were best friends, despite their vastly different backgrounds. Jude was from a rich family and grew up in Manhattan, private school and all. Stevie was the only child of a single mother and grew up in Queens, public school and all.

Jude's wealthy family came in use though, when he graduated his parents bought him a house--yes a house. There Jude and Stevie lived with an ever-revolving door of roommates. Rent was relatively cheap and it was a beacon for students, artists, and young professionals. So it was no surprise when their latest roommates moved out that two new ones moved in right away.

The row house was located in north Bushwick, a quickly growing(or gentrifying) area of the city for artists. The row house was a three-story beauty with brownstone facade, four tiny bedrooms, two tinnier bathrooms, and a backyard the size of a postage stamp. Normally, these buildings had been split up into multiple apartments, but this one was intact large (in NYC standards) home.

The first floor was all shared living space, a living room with ancient but comfortable furniture, a kitchen which hardly got used, and a dining room that was used as a makeshift studio. The top two floors housed the four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Jude and Stevie resided on the top floor, the two best friends refusing to be separated by even a floor.

The two new roommates River and Michael had moved in only a few days ago, and the four of them hardly had any time to get to know each other. Jude who was always the planner found a time all four of them weren't at work or class so they could hang out as roomies for the first time. Stevie was never super interested in these sort of things but tolerated them for Jude.

Jude came stomping down the stairs--never capable of being quiet, dressed in his preppy casual look that just screamed: "my parents have money". He was thin for his six foot one frame, but not as thin as he had been. It wasn't the sort of thing where someone was to think he was sick. Jude headed right for the kitchen grabbing his vodka and pouring himself a vodka soda with a squeeze of lime. He entered the living room, with Stevie following him with a cider in his hand like an infatuated puppy. The two of them were an odd pair, Jude with his put together look, purposely messy hair, and happy go lucky attitude. Stevie's long blonde hair was pulled up in a bun. He wore a worn out hoodie, a pair of old jeans, and an annoyed frown on his face. The pair snuggled into the couch, leaving no space between them.

"Michael seems nice don't you think," Jude asked Stevie--the two roommates haven't arrived home yet or descended from their rooms.
"He's fine," he said with a shrug.
"What about River? He's cute,"
"He's fine," this time Stevie sounded annoyed.
Jude rolled his eyes and pressed his face into Stevie's neck, nuzzling him a bit. The two were an affectionate pair, so much so people would think they were dating.
"Cut it out," Stevie growled, "they already probably think we're fucking."
Jude just laughed, annoying his best friend was an Olympic Sport for him, "who cares what they think?"
Stevie sighed and gave in to Jude's affections, tolerating his friend at the moment.

 

[neptune]

It shouldn't have come as a shock when Ti, his former roommate and current best friend, announced that she was moving in with her boyfriend, but River had been caught entirely off guard. He hadn't thought that she was serious at first, believing that plans to leave their cozy apartment would be, somehow, foiled by fate despite the years that she and Anthony had been together; he simply didn't want to move. Weeks passed like days, however, and River found himself running out of options until he stumbled upon a listing on Craigslist.

The new apartment was bigger, closer to school, but it came with new hurdles. There were people living there already, roommates that seemed to be more than just friends—it made him uncomfortable—but he needed a place to stay. Ti and Anthony even offered to help him move in, but River had declined, not wanting to trouble them. He had yet to come to terms with not seeing Ti every day anymore, with coming home to someone who understood him and who had patience for his annoying quirks. New York had never been all that scary to him when he'd first moved from Missouri, but it suddenly felt much larger, much darker and River resented his lack of coping skills.

"Do you like them?" Ti asked, her voice sounded tinny over the phone, but he could picture the look on her face and in her tone, he knew that she wanted him to try.

"Who?" he asked, playing dumb. One of the others, Jude, he thought, had organized a little get-together for them, but River took pride in being fashionably late. He found himself laid across his unmade bed, long legs dangling off the side.

"Your roommates."

"I don't know them," he said, very Mariah Carey. "I don't want to."

"River," Ti urged.

He paused, smiling, "I'm kidding." He wasn't, but after checking the clock on the nightstand, he knew that it was time to get downstairs. Ti promised to see him sometime that week, but River gave a vague answer about his schedule before hanging up. It was good that Ti was moving on and entering another phase of her life, he was happy for her, but he was petty and it showing it was another story entirely.

The house had a shared space on the first floor, and River had spent exactly five minutes there since moving in. He quietly came down the stairs, seeing Michael and Jude wrapped around one another in a moment that looked like it should have been private. "Sorry…" he said, choosing the stupidest way to announce his presence, "I can come back." He didn't know much about Jude or Stevie, just that they were both artists and had known one another for a while. He hung around by the staircase, his hand on the railing, ready to flee.


Between working the night shift and going to school, Michael had little time for a social life. He had friends, of course, people from lab groups that he sometimes grabbed a slice of pizza with, or took on the occasional date, but he was too busy for anything serious. Until the month before, Michael had been entirely content with his loneliness, having told himself that it would pay off when he was done with school, but when his living situation blew up over unlabeled food in the fridge, of all things, there was no one to turn to. Being alone was fine, something that he could handle, but being homeless wasn't option. Luckily, the internet came to the rescue and Michael took the first available listing without thinking twice.

From what he had seen, Jude and Stevie were nice people. They seemed to have a thing going on, and Michael could respect that as long as nothing dramatic went down while he was trying to sleep. The other one, River, who had also just moved in, seemed fine as well, but not someone that Michael hoped to get to know. The three were artists, apparently, and it made Michael feel out of place. He was about science and building things, and didn't know the first thing about art—just that every Jackson Pollock painting looked like he'd just had a stroke—but like many other things, that was fine. Michael didn't need to have anything in common with them.

It was late by the time Michael finally woke up. He had the night off, which was rare for him, and even more rare, he didn't have any studying to do. Rolling over, he gave a stretch of his creaky bones and ran a hand back through his messy hair. For a moment, he laid there on his back, listening to the sounds of the city outside of the window. He couldn't hear much from the rest of the house, but recalled there being a party that night; Jude had been kind enough to schedule it so that he didn't have to work. It wasn't the way Michael wanted to spend his time off, but things could have been worse.

After getting dressed and making himself look like less of a slob, he headed downstairs to the first floor. River was there, standing at the foot of the stairs and looking a little lost. "Am I late?" he asked, hoping that artists had a sense of humor. Jude and Stevie were sitting together, but he didn't try to analyze them. Instead, he stepped around River and headed into the kitchen to make himself a drink. "Want anything?" he asked the others, at least wanting to be helpful.

 

[Smallz]

The apology made Jude laugh, it was obvious to him what attacking Stevie with his affection looked like. He unraveled himself from Stevie so they were no longer intertwined together. Now, only their legs remained touching. Stevie felt a little bad for making River uncomfortable, but Jude couldn't give less of a fuck.

"No, it's fine! You're not interrupting anything," Jude called waving River in enthusiastically. He might not have been enthusiastic if River wasn't so fucking hot. Yeah, it was a bit gross to be so into his roommate. He didn't even know if he was gay, but it wasn't like he was actually going to do anything about it. He didn't know anything about River---besides the fact that he was an artist

Michael almost immediately followed River down the stairs. He wasn't sore on the eyes either. Maybe Jude was just thirsty from the latest dry spell. It was still a mystery to Jude how Stevie could be asexual, part of him just thought he didn't know what he was missing. Even though it was wrong, Jude couldn't help but question his friend's sexuality.

"We're all good in here," Jude responded to Micheal asking him if he needed anything.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Stevie added sounding a bit huffy for his friend answering for him. Jude just rolled his eyes at his testiness. Something had been up with Stevie lately, but Jude wasn't going to open that can of worms.

"I hope you're all planning on drinking tonight! If you need any vodka I got a whole handle in the fridge," Jude called out to Michael after he took a long sip of his vodka soda. Stevie just nursed his cider, looking like a kid who was forced to sit through church.

"So River, have you found the neighborhood inspiring? There's a lot of great new galleries to visit, oh and a great park down the corner. I can show you if you'd like tomorrow," Jude asked smiling maybe just a bit too brightly at River. Which of course resulted in Stevie rolling his eyes and getting up and going to the kitchen where Michael was.

Stevie entered the kitchen with his cider nursed in his hands. He took a swing of the cider, before announcing his presence to Michael. "Uh -- you settling in okay?" he said lamely staring down at his glass.

 

[neptune]

It was a surprise when Michael made himself known, but River didn't flinch. He hadn't seen much of the other man since moving in, but that wasn't unusual—he didn't pay attention to much outside of himself and a few close friends. He watched as Michael moved about, looking calm and collected, if not a bit tired, before he gracefully entered the kitchen. The effortlessness of the other man was real, his detachment didn't seem practiced, and for a moment, River was green with envy. He worked very hard to come off the same way, though he suspected that his aloofness would never be that convincing.

After a moment or two of contemplation, and upon realizing that Jude was speaking to him, River moved away from the staircase and went to take a seat. "I'll take one," he called to Michael, who was gracious enough to play bartender for the time being. He refocused on the conversation, paying particular attention to the long-haired man's soured attitude. There was something rather transparent about it, and for whatever reason, River thought it had something to do with him. Being friends with these people wasn't a goal—he hadn't been lying in his conversation with Ti—but he also didn't want to be in a petty situation either.

"A park?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. River kept his eyes on Jude, but the scoff from Stevie hadn't gone unnoticed. He was glad to see the other man sulk off to the kitchen, and could only hope that Michael wouldn't let him spit in his drink. "No, I haven't been," he added, though he didn't think there was anything special about a park. The appeal of an outdoor space was the people, in River's opinion—he liked to draw men and women on benches, people who moved naturally throughout their day—it was good practice and it gave him inspiration.

Looking toward the kitchen, River wondered when Michael would be back with his drink. "So, you're an artist too?" he asked Jude, a bit more sincere than usual. Art was something he could have talked about for hours without having to fake it, but all conversation was easier when soaked in alcohol.


Vodka sold in a plastic jug was almost always terrible, but Michael supposed that was the point. Any alcohol sold by the gallon wasn't being bought for quality or taste, it was just there to get the drinker wasted, and Michael didn't see a problem with it. He grabbed two plastic cups and started to make drinks, one for himself, and another for River. He didn't know how strong the other man liked his poison, so he refrained from filling it up halfway; the rest was soda and a bit of ice, though it would have been nice to have a lime or two just for the sake of garnish.

Taking a sip from his glass, Michael was ready to move back into the other room when Stevie appeared in the doorway. He looked put upon, a little sad, though Michael didn't think it was his place to ask about it. He stood in a way, however, that said there was something on his mind. The question was conversational enough, and Michael nodded in response, mid-swallow of the world's worst vodka. It was like glass in the back of his throat, but on an empty stomach, he could already feel a bit of a buzz.

"Yeah," he said, nodding again, "it's fine here. I mean," he shrugged, "it's a place, you know?" He leaned against the counter, intent on settling in for a moment, because brushing past Stevie likely would have been rude. "My last apartment was a nightmare," he chuckled, "there was so much yelling, and all over some leftover tacos." Anyone who left tacos in the fridge was a monster anyway. "It's good here, though. I like it."

 

[Smallz]

~Jude~​

"Kinda an artist," Jude laughed, "I'm an art therapist, I work with kids with emotional behavioral disorders." Jude loved his job but it didn't pay well especially because he wasn't fully certified. With his parents footing the bill though, it didn't matter too much. His parents always allowed Jude to follow his dreams and do whatever he wanted, even if it resulted in them supporting him financially. Everyone in Jude's life treated him like he was as fragile as a butterfly. Allowing him to get away with murder in order for him to stay healthy both mentally and physically. Their coddling only resulted in enabling Jude to be an out of touch spoiled young adult. The lanky man took a long drink, finishing off the rest of his vodka water.

"Hey, Stevie! Make me another drink while you're up," he called out. Jude never really considered that he may be taking advantage of his best friend's kindness. Jude wasn't self-aware enough to realize he was kinda an asshole, and nobody around him intended to make him aware. So Jude lived on in his entitled controlled bubble.

"So what medium do you use? I love to paint, but I've been dabbling in ballpoint pens," Jude loved talking about art, mostly about his art. But, he was sure that River's art was intriguing. Especially someone who claimed to actually be an artist. Jude created art, but it was a secondary thing from his day job. Stevie was trying to be an artist as well, but he didn't have the benefit of rich parents to pay his way. He had to have a job which took up almost all of his waking hours. Jude hadn't seen Stevie pick up a brush or pencil in months.

~Stevie~​

Stevie had to bite his tongue so he didn't say something nasty about Jude and his eating. Jude would be glad if someone ate his food, that would mean he didn't have to eat it. But Jude not eating wasn't an option. In the fridge, there were several containers full of perfectly portioned meals with Jude's name on it. Stevie, on the other hand, ate take out several times a week and would make a meal out of Flaming Hot Cheetos and diet coke.

"I don't think you'll run into that problem here," Stevie laughed, "just make sure you don't touch my diet coke--that might get you kicked out. That stuff is like liquid gold."

He was about to ask Michael about what he did for work, but Jude calling out for another drink interrupted him. Grumbling a bit, Stevie made Jude another vodka water with lime. That shit tasted like it came from the bowels of hell. The lime did very little to make it not taste like ethanol on fire.

"I guess we should return to our party,"Stevie joked before entering back into the living room. He handed Jude the vodka water before settling back into the couch, sitting a bit further away than last time. Jude took the drink without thanks, showing his appreciation by taking a long swing.

 

[neptune]

Art therapy sounded nice until Jude mentioned children, and River had to stop himself from cringing. He didn't much care for people his own age—or in general—but there was something extremely off-putting about children. He didn't like them, nor did he know what to do with them. They were always screaming, always complaining, and always so nosy. The thought of willingly being around that sort of nonsense made River question Jude's judgement, unable to fathom how art could be practiced around a bunch of problematic kids. Thankfully, River managed to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to offend Jude just days after moving into the house.

Luckily, the subject took another turn and River was more than happy to talk about his own art. "I love to paint too," he said, smiling. "I've been getting back into oil paints lately. I used them for a project last semester and I never really looked back." The one good thing about the new place was that his room was bigger, which meant more space to spread out and paint. When it came to creating something, River was known to lock himself in a room for a few days and not come out until every last thing was perfect. Other times, he agonized over what to create and thought of giving up all together.

"Have you been able to show anywhere?" he asked, wondering how good (or connected) Jude was. Having just had his first showing at a gallery, River was a bit hooked on the praise. He had only been able to occupy a few spaces on the wall, but it was surreal to see his name up there and to have people consider his work outside of letter grades. He had even managed to sell two paintings, which made him feel like a real artist, and not just a pretentious student.


It was lame—liquid gold—but Michael laughed anyway. He didn't mind exaggerations or phrases that should have been retired ages ago when they were made under an attempt to be friendly. Stevie seemed nice enough, if not a little touchy, but still a good person. "Noted," he laughed again, nodding his head. "It's safe with me anyway," he added, "I don't like the taste." It was full sugar or nothing for him, especially when he needed to get through those late nights at the library or was studying for a test. He overdid it sometimes, but caffeine, sugar and cigarettes were always there to get him over the finish line.

When Jude called from the other room about needing another drink, Michael remembered that River was waiting on him. He quickly downed what was left in the glass and made another after Stevie was done getting one for Jude. The buzz that he had only been stoking just moments before came roaring back to life and Michael was feeling great. It wasn't difficult for him to socialize, but drinking always helped—he didn't worry so much, or feel like such an outsider.

"I guess so," he said, picking up both drinks and gesturing for Stevie to go ahead. He followed the other man back out into the living room, not surprised to see Jude and River engaged in a conversation. He handed River his drink and apologized for the wait before taking a seat at the other end of the couch. "What are we talking about?" he asked, wondering just how awkward the night was going to be.

 

[Smallz]

~Jude~​

It was a little embarrassing, Jude was never able to show his art at a gallery. It wasn't because he wasn't talented or well connected, but because it made him incredibly nervous what other people might think or not think of his art. What if nobody bought a single one of his pieces? What if they all hated it? Jude shivered just thinking about it, his art was deeply personal. He couldn't imagine his reaction if someone outright hated it. Maybe he really wasn't an artist if he hoarded all of his work to himself, he was just a person who painted at that point. It was not a career but a hobby. 4 years of art school and he still couldn't take the criticism that went hand and hand with creating art.

"No--I haven't shown anything since college," Jude said with a bit of a shrug," Stevie has though, he's way better than me. I'd never be able to make a career out of painting. So art therapy is a good compromise, I get to be creative but I also get paid." Not that he ever had to worry about money, but he wasn't one to flash around his parent's money. He might have been spoiled but he wasn't a complete ass. He was about to ask River more details about his art, but Michael and Stevie made an appearance. Stevie sat on the couch but further away than usual. If they were alone Stevie would have probed him about what his deal was, instead he let it go. Whatever it was Stevie would get over it.

In response to Michael's question, Jude shrugged, "just art stuff, River's also an artist like me and Stevie.How about you, what do you do?" Jude asked Michael. He wasn't sure what Michael did, he was pretty sure he was still a student, but studying what Jude had no idea. It would be pretty funny if Michael had no interest in art, but it would make him feel a bit sorry for him. Being the only non-artist in a house full of them would probably be wildly confusing and annoying.

~Stevie~​

Stevie listened quietly to Jude, feeling his face flush a bit when Jude called him an artist. He was a barista who occasionally painted. A strong emphasis on occasionally. He couldn't remember the last time he picked up a paintbrush -- it had been too long. Work was exhausting and took up most of his waking hours, he was constantly working 12-hour shifts meaning he was either always closing or opening. Early mornings and late nights were Stevie's normal. Which left very little room for anything besides sleep. He found himself constantly jealous of Jude with his 9-5 salaried job and with parents who paid his way. That wasn't his life though, and it would never be his life.

He took a long swing of his drink, regretting he wasn't drinking anything stronger. Too bad he had to work early the next day otherwise he would be getting smashed. It'd been a long time since he had gotten truly drunk, and there was a reason for that. Stevie had a lot of 'firsts' the last night he was drunk with Jude. It meant more to him than Jude could ever understand, but for Jude, it was just a mistake. Sometimes he wondered if Jude craved his lips the same way he craved Jude's, he remembered the feel of Jude's lips on his like it was yesterday. Jude's lips were perfection, and he longed after them like they were a drug.

It was hard to love someone and hate someone so much at the same time. Sometimes, emotions got so big it made Stevie feel like he was about to explode. Jude was the problem and the solution all at once. He knew deep down the best thing for him would cut Jude out of his life. It was an unhealthy level of infatuation, a craving he'd never be able to satisfy. Jude loved him but not in the same way Stevie loved him.