artoflove | (no subject)

One of the things Lito has grown to appreciate (not love, not truly enjoy, because anything falls short when Hernando is not here to enjoy it with him) has been the beach. With summer in full swing, the temperature is nowhere near as warm as home, but without a shoot to be on and without paparazzi to keep him away, Lito is temporarily enjoying the anonymity of being simply him. It's allowed him to come to the beach and strip down to his tight bathing suit and do nothing but relax in the sun and let his mind wander.

He's used to his mind wandering to other places or to other people and he tries so, so hard not to feel lonely, but it's like a limb has been cut off from him. Having it happen on the heels of Hernando leaving him has been near impossible and Lito hardly copes at the best of times with such emotional distress.

He shoves those thoughts aside and focuses on the good.

The sun is out, the day is beautiful, and he will not have to worry about his picture in the tabloids tomorrow with big circles drawn around the bulge in his tight swimsuit. Sitting up to reach for the suntan oil, he slathers himself up a little more and turns to search for where he'd put his novel (a romance novel, but a man has guilty pleasures) in his large bag, cursing as he has difficulty finding it.

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Generally, Brian kept his cardio indoors. The risk of sunburn, alone, was enough to keep him wary of the beach. Though, he had to admit, there were times of the day, and certain stretches of sand, where the number of hot guys made the risk well worth it.

Earbuds in, Brian jogged down the beach in a pair of track shorts, his sleeveless tank thrown over one shoulder. He hadn't seen anyone worthy of getting him to stop. That was, until this one guy in particular.

"Looking for something?" Brian said, brow arched, an amused smirk curling his lips.

Still caught in his search, Lito doesn't glance up until he's managed to spill most of his bag out in frustration, cursing under his breath in Spanish, though soon he realizes the man who's asked him a question is still there. Glancing upwards, his eyes scan over his body for a brief moment, that low level appreciation still remaining (though he refuses to acknowledge it) before he holds up the book, thumb over the most indecent parts of the cover. "My light afternoon reading," he admits, shifting back on his towel. "I have always brought too much with me, for fear I would want something and find it missing. And yet, I am prepared for anything, though normally my assistant would carry this for me."

He was an over-sharer. It didn't particularly turn Brian off, but he arched a brow, looking largely uninterested in those details.

Except for that last one.

"Your assistant?"

His eyes flickered over the cover of the book and his smirk deepened. He didn't need much of an imagination to fill in what was covered.

"Not here, but where I come from, I'm a very famous actor," Lito explains, with a sad note of regret that he has lost his status after doing nothing more than being somehow magically transported from his home to this place. It seems terribly unfair, especially given what he had sacrificed in order to keep his career going. And now, he has no career and no Hernando. It is a miserable thing. "I had an agent, an assistant, and several on-set aides," he says, not to brag, but simply to state the truth.

"And now, you're alone on the beach, without a single adoring fan," Brian said, amused by the man's openness. If nothing else, Brian was impressed. He hated few things more than false modesty. "This must be a big change for you."

Lito's smile is tinged with something broken and bitter, because it is not any fan he wishes for, but only one -- his greatest, most devoted fan. And there is little to no chance that he can have Hernando back, even if he arrives, because there is no way here for Lito to prove that he can be brave and not the coward he has been. "The quiet is a nice change, for now," he confesses. "No paparazzi, no gossip, no tabloid worries about pictures of my bathing suit," he replies, adjusting the elastic waistband as his eyes slowly slide over the man before him.

And then he reminds himself that men do not look at men like this. "I will get back to acting eventually. Everyone needs a break sometime."

"An extended vacation," Brian agreed, his eyes following the movement of the man's hands and lingering on the elastic hugging his hips. "It's not quite a private island, but I guess beggars can't be choosers."

Taking a step forward, he offered his hand. "Brian Kinney."

Lito shifts, fluidly, and makes his way to sit up and shake Brian's hand firmly, pleased to be making acquaintances even if he does not know whether they will respect him as a person or because of his acting skills. Then again, he is not a famous actor here. "Lito Rodriguez," he introduces himself. "Do you watch many Mexican telenovelas? Or maybe action movies? You may have seen me there."

"I can't say I have."

Letting go of Lito's hand, Brian took a step back.

"From what I hear, there's a chance you didn't exist, where I came from," he said, lips curving into a smirk. "If you did, I'm pretty sure I would remember you."

Egotistical, and yet still somewhat cautious, Lito both flinches and preens for the compliment, bristling to think this man might be coming on to him. He lets his body language go defensive and unreceptive, but tries to stay polite. "If I do not exist in your world, then you are sadly missing out on a good deal of great films and television. Though, they are all in Spanish."

He settles back with his book. "And what it is you do?"

Watching the change in the guy's attitude, Brian arched a brow. His body had shifted almost imperceptibly, but the message was clear enough.

"Advertising," Brian answered easily. "I'm something of a creative genius." Somehow, he managed to make the statement sound playfully charming, despite its arrogance.

"What sort of advertising?" Lito asks, his mind already turning gears. While he had left a great deal to his agent, Lito has been concerned with marketing and his own image since he began acting before eighteen. He knows that to do it properly and to rebuild his career, he'll need contacts. "Do you know anyone in the film industry?"

"Print. Television," Brian said, "Darrow, it's tricky. Most brands are local, and even those that aren't, our reach doesn't go beyond the city."

He arched a brow.

"I might." He gave Lito another once over. "You know, you'd look great in print." It sounded like a line, but it wasn't. Well, not completely.

"I know," Lito concurs, because while he may have his charms and his talent, he is in no way modest about his skills and his looks. He knows very well that women of all walks of life look to him as a model, and a few men. It had been luck that he had dared to take a leap with one of them.

Not that it matters anymore.

"When I first started, I used to model for magazines to make extra money," Lito says. "Maybe it is something I will do again here? Perhaps you might even be a resource I turn to."