/ . COOL RANCH DORITOS -- OPEN

[KURT FERGUS ULIEZ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,355,true] Cotton running shorts clung low to the young man’s hips. Grey singlet pulled up to expose his stomach. His free hand poking the ‘flabby’ part of his stomach. To anyone watching this strange behaviour, they might wonder what exactly his problem was. There wasn’t anything but flat, smooth skin. However he was poking the area with such distain one might think there was something utterly wrong. The truth was, he was having issues with his stomach. Actually, paranoia may be a better fitting word- paranoia that he was getting fat. It didn’t matter how ridiculous that may have been to other people, Kurt was convinced. Letting out a low sigh, he gave the offending ‘flubber’ another poke. “Darn you, Cool Ranch Doritos.” he muttered. Shaking his head. He knew he shouldn’t have polished off that family bag this morning while he was watching TV. Was it his fault though, that they were just so delicious? Making it impossible to resist. The more he thought about it, the more it became clear to Kurt- Corn chips were not a nutritional breakfast. A sexual breakfast, but not good for his body. He was going to pay for it now though, wasn’t he? The young footballer’s conscience was going to nag him ‘til he felt he had worked of those Cool Ranch flavoured noms. Dropping his singlet down, so it fell back to the original position over his stomach. Stepping away from the locker room mirror, the young man slapped his locker closed. Ensuring all his personal belongings were safe. Not that he assumed people would try to steal them if they weren’t. The whole gym was full of security cameras, so really anyone was stupid to try. He just liked the piece of mind. Besides, you could get the odd fan who was a bit touched in the head seeing you there, then raiding your stuff to smell your jock-strap. Shivering at the thought, Kurt tried to push it from his mind. It may seem really queer, but in a way he wasn’t over-reacting. When he’d first started playing in the professional league, he’d been so excited to receive his first piece of fan-male. However his excitement faded as he read the letter. It had been from a middle aged woman who claimed they’d been lovers in another life, and had begged him to join her on their past adventure to discover ’how many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll centre of a tootsie pop?’. Considering the tone of the letter though, Kurt had been convinced she had meant something far beyond innocently enjoying candy. It was completely batty, and had scared the man off opening anymore letters for a while. While he got over his letter phobia, he was still worried he’d be subject to more batty behaviour. Attempting to clear his head, the young man moved towards one of the free treadmills. A nice ol’ jog would definitely clear his mind of freaky stalker fans, and also put him in the mood for a good solid workout. Stepping up onto the machine, the young man turned on his Ipod and started the machine. Slowly at first. No sense in pushing himself too quickly. Clearing his mind was actually harder than he had expected. While he ran, it did switch from freaky fans, but it was now back on Doritos. Which was making him hungry. Which made him consider what he was going eat for lunch. What he really wanted was something carbo loaded. Lots of pastry or bread or something. Ohh you know what had pastry? Pie. Mmm pie. Yep, he was going to get pie. W O R D S 610 T A G S open lovers N O T E S...lol. thats all

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[TOBY ELIAS SILKI]

To say Toby didn't get out much was a sad understatement.
He actually never got out at all, since he saw no reason to. Why did he need to waste his time forcing himself to do something he didn't want to do?
Then that morning, he woke up.
And he looked in the mirror.
And suddenly, he had something to do.
Going outdoors and being around people was a bit of a shock for Toby. He clutched his gym bag close as he pushed past a slow walking group of tourists, feeling as if the very buildings were watching him walk. He didn't do well in crowds, and though the group of people meandering about the streets was hardly a crowd, he still felt as if there were too many people about. Too many for his taste, anyways.

He had looked up the nearest gym's location online over breakfast, down to a measly bowl of cereal instead of his usual sausage and eggs. What he had seen in the mirror was enough incentive to throw himself out into the land of the living again... not that it was too bad. But he was used to a dancer's body, to a flat stomach and toned muscles. While he didn't look bad at all in the public eye, he looked obscene to himself. His leg ached at the very sight of himself, longing to fix the offending normality he had come to.
'Almost a year' he had thought, 'I've been off for almost a year...'
Having to think about all that again put him in a sour mood, so there was a scowl etched in his features as he pushed open Thebes's door. It was probably why the lady at the desk didn't greet him, only watched him walk by and went back to staring at the tv overhead.

Setting his bag on a bench in a back corner of the room, he scanned the building with a raised eyebrow. It may have come off as disapproving to the average person, meaning those who didn't know him, but he was actually impressed. The gym seemed well cared for and well invested in. There were nice tvs, sturdy and almost high tech looking equipment. Though it was all foreign to Toby... he hadn't really practiced at a gym before. Dancers, with all the work they put into each class, didn't need to, especially ballet dancers like himself.
'Like you were' he reminded himself, and growled slightly under his breath as he walked to a treadmill. That was really the only thing in the room that he knew what to do with. While he could probably figure other things out, he wasn't in the mood. He'd jog. No big deal.

He stepped on a treadmill next to the wall, only one guy the next machine over. That, he could handle. As long as he left him alone, he was fine. For a moment, he stared at all the buttons, as if lost, then set it for half an hour, low jogging pace. He needed to start somewhere, right?
With a sigh, he pressed start, and jogged as the floor moved underneath him. His left leg protested by tightening, and he grit his teeth, stepping off a minute to stretch it. Of course, he'd forgotten to stretch.
'Must have lost braincells as well as technique'
When he started again, he started off slow, turning it down to a fast paced walk instead. It didn't show on his face as anything more than a deep scowl of concentration, but he was embarrassed.
Quite embarrassed.

((on the run, will make pretty later! <3))

[KURT FERGUS ULIEZ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,355,true] Kurt had settled into his stride by the time someone took the treadmill beside him. He had worked up a nice sweat, and had turned the speed up a little faster. The young man loved running. He could do it for hours. He was also really good at it, if he didn’t say so himself. The young man had been known to take himself off for long distance jog to clear his mind- when it needed it. Truth be told, he didn’t need to clear his mind of heavy topics too often. The simple young man didn’t have too many deep thoughts bounding around in that mind of his. There were only a few things important to him, and considering one of them was football, it didn’t need a great deal of contemplation. All the strategy in football was done by the play maker, and Kurt was most definitely not the play maker. He knew he hadn’t been hired for his brain, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. He was the brawn of his football team. And honestly? The beauty. A role he actually took seriously. The kid could spend more time on his experience then the girl he was probably trying to impress. Surprisingly, they never stayed impressed for too long. He may have had the looks, but the poor kid almost always ended up doing something clumsy and awkward, which turned the girl off him. Good looks could only make up for so much, apparently. I mean, it wouldn’t matter how hot the guy was, most girls just could not look past a guy who elbowed you in the tit while trying to take your bra off. How was that even possible? Kurt had no idea how he had managed that one, that was for sure. How did he manage any of his clumsy accidents? As he jogged along at his comfortable speed, Kurt glanced sideways at the man starting out next to him. He couldn’t help himself really, he was curious. Kurt was always curious when he was at the gym. He found that most guys that went to the gym were the sort to follow sport, and the sort of guys who usually followed sports knew exactly who he was. It was a favourite pass time of his actually, to pretend he was coy and humble when someone recognised him while at the gym. His favourite line was ‘I’m just a regular guy, working out, like you.’ This was usually followed by him performing some impressive feat at a weight station or some such thing. What? He liked the impressed look on people’s faces. Who could blame him for that? Everyone liked attention didn’t they? He’d just looked straight ahead again when the other guy seemed to stiffen up and step off the machine. Kurt raised an eyebrow. What in the deuce was that about? Some people were just strange really. Shaking his head a little, Kurt tried to go back to his jog, however he couldn’t help but stay curious about what it had been all about. Slowing his own pace, the young man continued to watch the other as he got back on the treadmill. Quirking his brow slightly, he noticed a setting that surely wasn’t meant to be. Reaching over, he offered a lop-sided grin. “I don’t think you want it on hill climb.” He said, turning the setting off. Grinning again, he looked at the man... Waiting for him to recognise the sports hero who had just helped him out. W O R D S 590 T A G S tobyyy N O T E S <3

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[TOBY ELIAS SILKI]

Even about half a minute in, Toby could feel the weakness his muscles and bones had gained starting to increase. That was what he hated about actually exercising: when one exercised, they had time to think. Sure, they could zone out on the television or listen to music, but it wasn't like dancing. When dancing, you used every bit of your brain to concentrate on a move, and you didn't think about the work your muscles were getting, but about getting the step or movement or jump right. When you danced, you were completely absorbed in the body. There wa no time for complaining.
His frown got deeper as he stared at the numbers and buttons. He may as well have been reading German for all the information he was getting from it. No matter how he squinted and tilted his head, he couldn't quite get if he was doing it right. No matter... he'd act like it, anyways. No one else needed to know that.

Clearing his throat, he refocused and looked straight ahead, looking at the tv screen without actually watching. Not dancing was no excuse anymore. That image in the mirror of himself urged him forward, caused him to suck it up, to bear it. There was no way in hell he was going to get fat and unfit. Sure, this as something most girls worried about, but in ballet? Some habits rubbed off on you. Besides, he was a typical college aged guy. He ate, and a lot. He had always eaten a lot, and not very often healthy things. Sure he drank water and ate bananas, accompanied with five slices of pizza that night. The eating habits stayed even after the dancing stopped, and finally? It had caught up to him. No way he was going back.

Thats when he felt the eyes. His eyes narrowed the mometn he felt the young man beside him looking at him.
What's his deal...?
Of course, he ignored him at first. But it was getting really hard, being watched, and he became more and more self conscious. His glare could have broken the screen, but it was just at the brink of his break point that something in the gears below his feet shifted. He stumbled a bit, and moved the the unmoving area of the treadmill, to the side.
His eyes cut up to look at his "savior". Who did he think he was? Granted, he had been wrong... but that didn't mean he needed to be corrected.
"...No. I didn't."
Stepping lightly, he moved back on the treadmill, starting back into his light jog. Guilt pulled at his stomach from his blank reply, but he kept jogging. But that freak was still staring...

image (c) mon cher <3