wasblindbefore | (no subject)

It's always a relief when Christmas ends and the decorations start coming down. Usually it takes until after New Year's for the last of the lights and the garlands to disappear, but at least there's something of a reprieve and far less insistent holiday cheer in the air. No matter how long he's had, no matter how many years it's been, Elvis doubts he'll ever think much more fondly about Christmas than he already does. There are just too many inescapable bad memories there. He's better at getting through it than he used to be, at least, but that doesn't make him any less appreciative to come out on the other side of it, ready to put the whole damn thing behind him once again.

Preparations for the typical New Year's celebration have started to replace the remnants of Christmas, at least in the heart of the city, close to City Hall. He doubts he'll go, or if he does, that he'll do so for very long, but he doesn't think much of it one way or the other as he passes by on his way to the park, the easiest way of cutting through the city on foot. In this weather, a sharp, biting chill in the air, he would probably be better off taking the subway or something, but by the time he determines that, it seems a little too late to, and it doesn't particularly matter anyway. At least he isn't crazy enough to have gone out without a coat.

Even in the middle of the afternoon, the park is quiet, not quite deserted but close to it. As such, he lifts his head instinctively when he hears his name from a ways off, only to smile when he realizes he isn't actually who's being spoken to. "You know, one of these days, this is gonna get real confusing," he calls, laughing a little as he does, heading in the direction of where he's caught sight of Harley and his dog. It really is one hell of a coincidence, the two of them sharing the same name, but at least it's an amusing one.

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"It isn't yet?" I ask, smiling as he approaches. When we named the dog, we never expected to run into a person with the same name. It seems like a great joke to me still. And I like the guy. He's quiet, sarcastic, never tries to push for conversation where none exists. It makes him better than most people in my book, at least to be around.

The dog heads over to him, looking for attention.

"Don't know about confusing, but it's definitely weird," Elvis says, though he doesn't bother trying to hide the amusement in his voice as he speaks. It's nothing he would have seen coming, that's for damn sure, but it isn't as if it makes any sort of difference. Granted, had he not first known Harley as Effy's boyfriend, the might find the whole thing someone more off-putting, but as it is, it would seem like a pretty stupid thing to get hung up on.

Reaching down to pet the dog's head when he wanders over, Elvis smiles crookedly in turn. "I don't think I knew any other Elvises before."

"Wouldn't be too surprised," I say with a shrug, watching, pleased, as my Elvis laps up the attention, whining faintly as he presses up into his hand. He used to be a damn scared little thing, cowering in corners. I guess we've both grown past that stage. "He's the only other one I've ever known. My dad named him."

It's not a common name, but neither is Harley.

"Probably more people who'd think it's a normal dog name than a normal person name," Elvis says, huffing out a laugh. There are times that responses to it have gotten on his nerves, he can't pretend otherwise, but he puts that down to people being assholes, not a problem with the name itself. "'Least I'm in good company. Not sure if I could say the same for him."

He cracks a wry smile at that, amused and self-deprecating. More often than not, he wouldn't really consider himself good company at all, but at least for now, that's not actually the point.

I shrug, reaching down to pet my dog, his tail stirring up grass as it thumps wildly. "Eh, he's alright," I say. "Could be worse people to share a name with."

Like I said, I like the guy. He's easy enough to talk to and he doesn't make bullshit small talk either. Effy likes him and Elvis — my dog, anyway — likes him, and that's good enough by me.

For his part, Elvis only wishes he didn't also have to share it with the singer, more than tired of jokes to that effect, but he suspects that sort of thing probably speaks for itself. He's heard more jokes than he can count, gotten like the singer? nearly every time he introduces himself. It must have been unintentional on his parents' part, but that doesn't mean it isn't more than a little tiring.

"High praise," he jokes, huffing out a laugh as he does. "So what're you two doin' out here, anyway? Just a change of scenery?"

I nod. "He had a check-up this morning," I explain, "and I figured I may as well let him run around after." It's nothing serious, just a routine visit to the vet to make sure everything's alright. Vet visits aren't cheap, but I've been able to save here and I don't want anything happen to the furball. He's one of the few pieces of home I have, one of the only ones worth having. "How 'bout you?"

"Just passin' through," Elvis says, shrugging. "S'nice, though. Weird to think about how soon all this'll be packed." He isn't looking forward to that and can't pretend otherwise, but at least it's not all that Christmas shit. In a way, he gets it, he does, knows what it means to most people. It's just one thing where he can't see past his own issues with the subject. To him, Christmas is tied to death in the one way it's too unpleasant for him to think too much about. "Probably sit out whatever they do for New Year's. It kinda seems like something always goes wrong, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I never go," I say, huffing out a laugh. "And every year, I'm proved right in not going. But I don't know. You know how Effy is." She's much more social than I am. If she says we're going out for New Year's, we're going out, and I'm not going to argue. I know she wouldn't make me stay for too long if I start getting uncomfortable. If going for a little while makes her happy, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. Or maybe we'll just stay home. I never know with her.

"Yeah, she's definitely more of a party person," Elvis says, a wry sort of fondness in the set of his mouth. He gets the feeling that Harley is more of the type to stay in, like he is, which is, perhaps, one of the reasons they've gotten along as well as they have. Usually, he just skips the whole damn thing anyway, and he never finds that he regrets it. They're just too unpredictable, and not in any kind of a good way. "I've never liked 'em much anyway, but the New Year's ones especially..."