Gabriel Archibald Benedict Carrington

36

Male

Retired Air Force Veteran

Homosexual

Single; Technically in a fake relationship.

[Name TBD]; Fake Fiancée

Compare this man now to what he once was and not a soul would believe a 6'2" behemoth of a man used bar stools just to get a glass from the kitchen cabinet. Or that any of his siblings could wrap their whole hand around his bicep - twice. Only determination over his developing years earned Gabriel his stature now. A lot of that motivation stemmed from a pack of bullies and his father's 'encouragement' to "toughen up." Even the slow increase in muscle mass, height, and weight didn't quite allow Gabriel to adjust accordingly. There have been moments aplenty where Gabriel forgot he spanned half a hallway, instead of a fourth. The grace and poise subtle in his smaller frame didn't register in his larger one and it took quite a few years for Gabriel to regain that. Like telling someone to put on over sized gloves to lift a tea cup without dropping it.

Even now, Gabriel feels most comfortable filling in small, tight spaces - curling his knees to his chest, or trying his best to take up only half the cushion on a sofa. Masculinity hasn't really been a pressure for Gabriel and he took a comfort in his own body, a confidence gained from years of working toward this one goal, that it's rare to see him spread eagle, or with any swagger in his step. Even now, Gabriel takes most from his mother. Even in his clumsy phase, every movement Gabriel took came deliberately, thought out in a span of a few seconds. Decisiveness had remained a trait of his throughout the years, especially when it came to facial cues and expressions, standing in certain spots, moving a certain way. Body language became viewed as an art form, especially when remember his own mother - in so far as mimicking her movements as a child.

With impeccable complexion, healthy and bright with a glow that distracts from the distance in his eyes, Gabriel achieves what any Carrington should in beauty - genes took 90% of the credit, thank god. After his transformation from a sleek, petite thing, early 'teen magazines' doted on Gabriel as a modern Adonis - though, that may not seem as special. Those smooth, soft features found time trying and stress even more so. Time spent in the military and through various struggles roughed the gentle visage with sandpaper. His edges came out rough and course. Even with the smoothness of his complexion and the sleek attribute of his form, there's a sharpness to Gabriel's eyes and a worn set to his cheekbones.

Falling to more casual attire, Gabriel likes taking advantage of the weather through his fashion choices. Winter leaves him heavy set in thick layers: pea coats, sweaters, scarves, and winter hats. They'll often appear in washed out colors: blues that look like they've seen better days, and reds this shade of worn out maroon. However, despite this attitude toward clothing, Gabriel refuses to wears shorts or tight fitting pants (though slacks are an exception; he likes his business-y pants to feel form fitting, but not constricting - silk feels too nice on skin not to take advantage of). Anything that takes the attention away from the fact that he's missing a leg is always, always a priority. So far, Gabriel sits on a high middle ground when it comes to fashion - he likes tasteful things, but not overly expensive.

From a very early age, everyone knew who Gabriel was. Not that everyone knew his name, or even knew him personally. Just looking at him, anyone could tell what that boy stood for. What he felt. What he wanted out of life. The years haven't been kind to Gabriel's younger half. In this day and age, being an open book meant absolute vulnerability. It forced you to wear your heart on your sleeve, sew it on and leave it to dry under the scrutiny and gaze of other people.

Curiosity worked as a driving force for Gabriel. The pursuit of knowledge had always interested him; he actively sought out more information. Even under the criticisms of his mother, Gabriel held out, let her often blunt words encourage him further. If she found a flaw in what he attempted to do, Gabriel saw meaning in it and let it drive him toward improvement. Gabriel always worked tirelessly. At first, the diligence came about to impress in a need for reward and praise - a basic human function. Eventually, that diligence turned into wanting to improve himself for the sake of learning, gaining knowledge - making mistakes and fixing them.

Even years later, Gabriel could never find a reason to blame his mother for her demeanor. She may have a wit and personality sharper than a mountain's peak and colder than one too, but he couldn't deny that her inherent shade of cruelty only drove him toward improvement. Of course, looking back at it, he had many reasons to resent her. Her need for perfection elevated her standards to unbelievable heights - unreachable. And the feeling of gaining her ire over her gratitude eventually led to bouts of depression. Things that needed therapy to correct. Lack of self-worth. Lack of focus. Lack of drive. He could very well blame his mother for all of it; send her the damn bill, if he wanted to. Could blame his father for lacking shits to give unless he found a winning side to latch onto; what he always did. A kid earned a Pulitzer Prize, he'd be there with his thumbs up like he'd been motivating and inspiring that entire time.

Yet, that would defeat the purpose. While, yes, they did deserve a lot of the blame, most of Gabriel's insecurities fell unto himself. No doubt in his mind his mother and father lacked any real experience as parents, despite having ten children. They were awful parents. But people? No, they were half-way decent people. They tried. They sucked at everything they attempted with their kids and they needed to stop having more after the fourth one - even the phrase, 'it's the thought that counts' comes up short. They tried and it wasn't enough, simple as that.

At least he didn't owe them everything. Years in the air force built Gabriel up, even encouraged his brash curiosity. They gave him something his parents didn't: a support beam that wasn't flimsy. Yet, even then, everything ended up crumbling, as it should when one literally gets shot from the sky. That incident took more than just a limb, it took every piece of Gabriel's mind with it. All the stability he tried building up years after leaving his home found itself abandoned in a barren carcass of a jet plane. Lucky for him, that was the only thing he left in the desert.

Now, Gabriel remains a huddled mess of emotions. Even years after he'd earned a sense of normality with his mind. That took more money and time than he'd ever want to spend in any one sitting - or multiple ones. Even if the PTSD remained unchecked, he'd fight it soon enough. He'd find some peace of mind in it. Though, any hopes and aspirations Gabriel had as a child seemed dashed and broken. But, hey, at least he still has that bit of his mother he can't seem to lose. A want for absolute accuracy and precision - utmost efficiency. That'll be a constant reminder of what he left behind, eighteen, young, and brash.

❖ Anything sci-fi; growing up, Gabriel had an intense love for space, as well as literature. He'd hole up in his room with dozens of books: H.G. Wells, Frank Herbert, Aldous Huxley, Isaac Asimov. He had an entire case filled with only various copies of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein taken from all over the world.
❖ Space; there was always a reason to be out at night, whether to star gaze or just bask in the feel of an entire trillions of light years of space just sitting above. Gabriel always had a fascination for the stars and he's spent many nights charting the constellations, as well as researching everything he can about those distant balls of gas filling the night sky.
❖ Being Precise; something he got from his mother - anything Gabriel does needs to be with absolute precision. Whether it's charting a graph, fixing up a room, talking, or lining up a shot.
❖ Silence; nights spent aboard planes and jets have given silence a new meaning to Gabriel. Silence means peace, a near blanket of security. Alone for hours in the fading hum of a plane have given Gabriel more peace of mind than he cares to admit. Enough time in his thoughts to justify any actions he's ever taken - even if the excuses are flimsy and last for but a few seconds of respite.

❖ Loud Noises; raucous, loud, and abrupt noises send Gabriel into a panic. Anything louder than a car alarm shocks him into a catatonic state. The less noisy, the less it takes to bring him back from the edge; the louder, the worse the panic settles in.
❖ Wearing Shorts; shorts don't leave anything to the imagination and, honestly, that's where he wants to keep his leg: locked in peoples' imaginations. If it's not seen, they can't tell it's not there to begin with. Even years of therapy haven't stopped the crippling shame he feels looking down.
❖ Stairs; just, honestly, fuck stairs. Fuck long flights of stairs. Fuck stairwells. Fuck anything without an elevator or a ramp.
❖ Losing Control; that feeling of being hammered drunk? The feeling right before anesthetics put you under? That feeling when you touch a part of your body and can't, for the life you, feel any sort of sensation there? That scares the shit out of him. Freaks him out. Increases his heart rate and leaves him stammering. He refuses to touch alcohol, or any kind of pain relieving drug - or drugs in general. Those weeks spent on morphine may have been amazing during, but getting to that high was a ride in and of itself.

Out of all the Carrington kids, Gabriel likely comes off as a distant memory to most of the family. Not a failure in his own right, not a disappointment, but maybe a lost cause. Someone who grew into their own person too soon, out of necessity and maybe even survival. At a point in life, something just happened and the support Gabriel made for himself out of the little bits and pieces his parents allotted him crumbled. Further luck shaped and molded Gabriel into the man he sees in the mirror daily and though he has no qualms with his own reflection, there's something missing. Something that needs to be fixed and filled in before he can truly find satisfaction. And maybe satisfaction isn't even what he needs or wants - but, it's hard to put a word to something he doesn't quite know the contents of, just yet.

Starting out as a Carrington meant more than a few days spent away from family. Or at least, his mother and father. At a young age, Gabriel mostly kept to himself, even in the company of his siblings - leaving him perpetually introverted and solitary. Gabriel's childhood often found itself wondering at books, learning to read and write, and then finding time to spend with his nose buried deep in a novel. Until, eventually, a book of the stars landed in his lap, opening wide a new avenue of wonder and passion. A curiosity like his refuses to be sated.

Young and yearning for a glimpse of the stars, Gabriel notified both parents. The enthusiasm observed in the boy's tone was something to keep note of and, once their schedule opened up, they allowed a night of stargazing for the boy - after buying a much, much too expensive telescope for an adolescent. After that night, both parents knew that telescope would find itself in use nightly, likely for years to come. A fire like that in a boy so young could only lead to potential greatness, at least in their eyes.

From then on, Gabriel found himself piled head to toe in resources that further nurtureed his passion. While they didn't take quite an active role in building Gabriel's passion, both Carringtons invested much into allowing Gabriel to take the reigns alone. Even were it to be a flight of fancy, the amount of money they spent on Gabriel could hardly make a noticeable dent - not enough to rise to anger over disappointment. However, That neither need worry about as the older Gabriel grew, the more knowledge he soaked in. A child that young probably had no reason to delve into advanced mathematics, however, learning math and even physics came simple to Gabriel. While he didn't exactly sky rocket into Calculus at the age of three, he did grasp equations and formulas astoundingly easier than most kids his age (and if he started learning Calculus in middle school, who could blame him?).

At that age, most of the accomplishments that went under his parents' scrutiny only encouraged Gabriel to work harder. That determination allowed him to succeed beyond what was expected of him. However, even that had negative consequences. The higher he raised the bar, the more his parents expected of him. And if he couldn't reach the standard he'd set himself, they wouldn't waste their time beyond giving him small, hole punching critiques. Even tiny, they still felt like jabs to his gut. At its worse, everything seemed discouraging.

However, Gabriel could very well take it. He could handle a lot of things at his age. If he could handle graphing the sky and finding the distance from earth to a random star just by looking at it, well he could handle his mother's off-hand comment about how his 98% science report wouldn't hold up in a college course - "Something to think about, Gabriel, if you really wish to succeed. Mediocrity is a sin." In the long run, she had a point and he always worked to improve himself toward a milestone where he no longer craved to see his parents proud, but to see himself proud.

That wouldn't last long.

As a young boy, puberty didn't exactly hit hard - he would take growing pains and acne over bleeding through his genitals any day. That couldn't be said for his sexuality, though, and discovering his apathy towards the female form and a rather alarming attraction to cute boys (not riddled with acne, that is; and with muscles, ahaha) lead him down a very trying experience. Hiding that meant hiding himself, which also meant making sure that everything he did was done to conceal his secret - exhaustive work for a kid who still had time to be a kid. Even then, many of the children in his school had it out for him just because his parents had enough money to not only bribe his way into any school, but tack on a Ferrari, as well, without making even a small dent in their fortune. If people found out he was gay, especially rabid pre-frat boy acting middle school teenagers, that would turn an already gross and irritating environment into a hellscape.

Unfortunately, in a school full of kids of parents who have 'connections' and ways of finding dirt, rumors spread like fire and if one of those rumors happened to be true, well, that kinda just sucks. Kids can be nasty and kids with money, even worse. So, when a rumor spread that Gabriel Carrington was liked sucking dick, they took the bait and found it to actually be true (at least in theory; don't tell my mom, please). That meant coming home with bruises and welts and black eyes for days until his parents found out. That conversation didn't go too well; he never expected it to. His mother hadn't said a word. His father, on the other hand, made light jabs, targeting his tiny frame and lack of muscles as if to encourage him to bulk up and fight those kids himself. In a very typical, asshole-ish way. Sure, it worked, but Gabriel didn't have very many kind words to say to his father after that.

One good thing came out of the talk, however, and that had been his father's lack of care for his sexuality. Even if it came as a thinly veiled threat.

"If I think you're a disappointment, which is unlikely, it's because of who you are, not who you like."

Unlikely his ass.

That fiasco happened at age twelve, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Bullied, ridiculed, and then told to, "... toughen up," by his father, put Gabriel in a hole he didn't see a way to get out of. He needed comfort, needed something his parents wouldn't provide because they thought tough love was the only approach to parenting. That meant going to his siblings, in particular his older sister. Unfortunately, that had been the exact time of her own troubling outburst.

School had just finished for the lot of them (graduation for their eldest had been something his parents wanted to attend, giving them the perfect opportunity to the see the damage already done to their third eldest) meaning at least one would be on their way to, hopefully, college. Unfortunately, Sam didn't see the bright side of her parents' approach, didn't see them wanting only reason, and teen spirit won over logic. She burst into a fit of rage in what she assumed had been in private, yet young Gabriel had already sought out his oldest sister to confide in. Privy to the details and grit of the conflict raging in front of him, Gabriel only stood and waited, hoping the one person who understood his troubles would only stay.

"Where are you going?" he asked, after watching her pack in front of their parents - watching as Sam stomp past him without a glance. He turned to both his mother and father, confusion and anger twisting his bruised face. "You can't just let her go. She's family. She can't just leave. She can't just... S-Sam?" Gabriel broke into a panic, dashing down the stairs to watch the door slam before he could get a word in. From the windows, he watched the smoke of burning tires mark the driveway and the black gates of their home close with a heartbreaking finality.

From then on, Gabriel looked at his parents with a deep resentment. Young and brash, he never quite forgave them and that only exacerbated their critiques, the comments he knew were only made to better him. It turned, "This equation is off by a decimal, that's why it's a 95% and not a 100%," into, "You'll never amount to anything; you're small, weak, and hopeless. You're not a Carrington. You're a disappointment." He twisted their words for his own benefit, he thought. He made them sound like monsters in his head until he couldn't find a reason to stay.

Even then, Gabriel forced himself to improve beyond what they expected of him. Aided with a growth spurt that summer, Gabriel began bulking up. Over the years and to the end of high school, Gabriel gained more muscle mass and height than was honestly reasonable. Everything his parents did behind his back came unnoticed. The fact that, not only did he attend school no longer harassed, but the bullies who had assaulted him no longer drifted the hallways. Were sent away. Expelled. Whatever. Gabriel refused to notice, refused to catch his mother or father's eye because once he did, he knew he couldn't hold his philosophy. His little fictional world that painted them as the villains; deep down, Gabriel knew they couldn't have done anything to stop Sam. She had her mind set and they were simply trying to understand her. But that would make his own escape hard. Dramatic, yes, but he lacked the reasoning an adult might have had.

Once he graduated, Gabriel threw all the scholarships, all the college letters, all the things his parents gave him to allow him success by the wayside. Without a word, Gabriel packed everything that he needed, signed up for the Air Force, and left for boot camp that fall. He needed to see them as monsters. He didn't want to. He knew they weren't, but it was the only way for him to justify cutting ties completely.

Those years built him up. They allowed a freedom Gabriel hadn't experienced. Not a freedom from his parents' restrictions, but a freedom from himself. Everything boiled down to orders, to obedience, to following directions, and to being lead. It felt mindless to him, not in a bad way, but in a way that he could lose himself and refuse to find what he left behind. Not only that, they let him fly. They let him see the stars up close, the sun shining behind the weight of heavy clouds. It may not have been what he truly dreamed of, but it was damn well close enough.

At that point, Gabriel had experienced a fair bit of the world. He allowed the military to raise him, mold him into the man he wanted to become. Or at least, what they wanted him to become. They pushed him in a direction and he went, without ever looking back at what he left behind.

Unfortunately, it never did allow him to really grow. And, while the foundation for their support was built sturdier, it would eventually crumble. That much Gabriel knew. Mainly because he also knew there were a lot of things he was avoiding in the real world and those things would eventually catch up to him. He'd ride it out, though, for as long as he could.

That end came a lot quicker than he anticipated. A routine air sweep over sanctioned parts of the Mediterranean turned into strafing too far into Libya, which turned into a lock down of that particular air space. Artillery fire and the night made it exceptionally difficult to wrap around and fly back to their designated air base. With only two planes on a scouting mission, it shouldn't have been too hard - hard, but not impossible.

On his turn around, Gabriel spotted a stray artillery shell flanking the second jet. Knowing it'd rip through the cockpit and whoever inside, Gabriel made a split second decision. Diving beneath the other jet, he took the missile head on. The explosion ripped into the wings of his lane, and inverted a good portion of the hull into the cockpit. Parts of the metal and wiring of the plane dug into Gabriel's right calf, pinning him to jet. Unable to eject safely, he'd have likely died in the crash. The other plane fared far better, having taken the bulk of the damage with his own plane, the other merely lost function to the aftershocks of the explosion, forcing the pilot inside to eject. The force of his impact on land had knocked him unconscious, however.

Gabriel still refuses to detail exactly what he did to get himself out safely, but it left his right leg severely injured to the point of losing all function and left him nearly bleeding out on the desert sands. He had to physically crawl through the barren sands in order to make contact with the other soldier, unconscious but still breathing. He bound his wound as well as he could and took stock of his surrounding, the cold shaking their claws into his bones. Unfortunately, his woulds had been the least of their worries as the wreck gave away their location to a roving, enemy mercenary group - pick off the survivors and scavenge what they could. To Gabriel, it'd be he last stand, unknown to the medical rescue team alerted to their location prior to his partner abadoning his plane for safety. After holing up with his lone pistol behind a sturdy rock formation, he held them off until the medical team arrived to dispatch the remaining enemy soldiers and lift them both off to safety. He lost consciousness well before they shipped him out for surgery. Gabriel woke up two days later with no leg and under a high dosage of morphine - his subsequent freak out took quite a bit of the on hand staff to calm and sedate him. With no family written in his records, Gabriel suffered his time in the military hospital alone for nearly a month.

After the ordeal he'd been honorably discharged, awarded a Purple Heart and the Medal of Honor for his valor in combat and his willingness to sacrifice. Of course, that likely televised event wouldn't have gone unnoticed by his parents. Gabriel, however, refused to take any of their calls and worked on recovering what mental stability he had left through various therapy sessions before ever thinking of approaching them again. It took years before Gabriel deemed himself ready and by then, he'd already received a letter for a Carrington family reunion. Now it was just a matter of finding a way to explain himself, while acting like his life afterwards was just him rebuilding some kind of normalcy, educating himself, finding a reasonable excuse that he would have been much too busy to talk.

❖ Lost his left leg and wears a regular prosthetic. He hides this rather well and refuses to explain how he lost it when people find out.
❖ He's laid low enough that his stint on TV only remains in vague memory. People don't recognize him on the street and he doesn't ever really boast about his received reward. He still doesn't think he earned it, after everything that happened.
❖ Takes medication for his anxiety and depression - still deals with PTSD. Loud noises and flying trigger him heavily - he needs to be thoroughly sedated before boarding a plane.
❖ Still dreams of becoming an astronaut and astrophysicist and has even sent in applications to places like MIT. He refuses to name drop, but his high school records are impeccable and he hopes he can somehow find a way to pay for classes himself. Right now, he's just taking a few small classes at a community college, learning how to cook, even knit, and some creative writing course.

Eckhart Remington Wolff

29

Male

NFL Running Back (Tailback - Main Runner in American Football) for the New England Patriots

Homosexual

Charles Carrington's Boyfriend; Soon to be Fiancé

Eckhart comes from a mostly humble family, all of which live in Frankfurt, Kentucky. Most of them are farmhands, his mother (Loretta) and father (Eberhard) owning a large plot of land in the outskirts of Kentucky's capital. His immediate family is the one he loves and talks to the most; the rest of his family, both on his father and mother's sides, shun him for quite a bit of things, but namely his sexuality. He has a lot of extended family in Germany who he talks to, on occasion - they don't care for most of his American family, anyway, aside from his father and mother who keep their German heritage and roots lively.

Ever since Eckhart came of age to work on his parents' farmland, he's never fell out of shape. Bulking up for labor intensive purposes had come easily and further toning the raw muscle of physical work came even easier. Puberty assisted phenomenally in shaping the lithe figure that dominates most stadium green today and staggers a boasting 6'2". His frame embodies sleek, Olympic level performance and an elegance that almost landed him in preforming on stage as a ballet dancer (his father has a hard time with today's gender terms, so he deemed it unmasculine - though later years, Eckhart never shied away from various ballet classes). There's a grace in the way he moves even to the chaotic step of each foot forward; if Eckhart's known for anything, it's his unpredictability. His natural foot work that seems to meld with the ground beneath him, letting instinct and body take him where he needs to go.

Even Eckhart's facial features have a noticeable elegance to them. Frail doesn't seem to define his bone structure quite as well; Eckhart is anything but frail. Smooth, maybe, with an edge that blends into the sleek curves of his face. Possibly defined in the right places and blended in the perfect ways, melding ruddy cheeks with the jowls that curve into laugh lines that frame his lips. They perk just under the jutting curve of his nose, high and sharp. Even with the noticeable gentleness to his gaze, there's a shrewd cavity that sinks into the blue of his eyes, defined and squeezed by the bushy brows set low above them. Nothing can quite come close to the way Eckhart's face takes form, down to the tiniest slide into a questioning gaze and the lilt of his chin as it blurs into the lines of his jaws. Maybe that's what fascinates Charlie - he's a masterpiece, a moment, or rather moments, meant to be captured on pen and paper, in the sharp edges of metal or the soft curve of clay.

Old Southern glory. Heh, actually, Eckhart's not really the kind of guy you'd find living in the south. Or, at least, he's not the kind of guy you'd think lived in the south. As a kid, Eckhart's always been a bit different. He didn't talk much, and when he did, it had to be at the right moment - he had quite the knack for timing. His mother, on the other hand, calls him ill-timed. As in people often found Eckhart popping up at the absolute wrong time - wrong time for everyone. That's all well and true, though whether that's fortunate for Eckhart or not depends on the situation. It differed and swayed with the days; he'd find himself on the tail end of angry peers; or he'd settle down with a kind family after stumbling on their solution, a nice dinner to warm his belly.

Most of these moments (and they were frequent) Eckhart took in stride. A lot of things Eckhart took were in stride. Spontaneity won over organization 90% of the time. Unfortunately, that meant most things in Eckhart's life fell down to hit or miss moments. Things would either start awful and turn around or they'd start wonderful and plummet like a raft down a waterfall. And when things ended bad, they'd often end terribly. Fortunately for Eckhart, he also took those moments in stride. Worry didn't seem to affect Eckhart like many others, in fact, that cautious feeling, the wariness as he neared a cliff drove him. It gave him a much needed dose of adrenaline and pushed him further down whatever path he'd found himself on. And he'd jump from one path to the next, reveling in the rush of the unknown - a kid just looking for a damn good time. So, even in the bad, even in the worst of the worse, Eckhart smiled. And he kept smiling. And he keeps smiling.

That's what encouraged him to take a healthier approach to the 'adrenaline junkie' kind of experience. Or, the honest truth: his mother forced him to take the healthier approach. Having to watch her kid come home with multiple broken bones each week, not a day after his previous cast came off, nearly drove her to madness. And that started an entire new fascination. Sports, the thrill of it, it set Eckhart on an undeniably better path. It drained him, let him live his life as he wanted to without the danger of serious injury (well, there's always a danger; this danger was more contained and avoidable). Ultimately, that lead to Eckhart further opening his eyes to his surroundings and an appreciation for slowing down, actually taking things in stride really furthered who he was. In essence, Eckhart found himself fairly early in life - at least, a part of himself.

A renewed vigor, Eckhart found more meaning in interaction. The things he often took for granted, he started noticing. Holding doors for people. Smiling at strangers. Making friends. Making real, real friends. And basking in the good company of his immediate family - a mother and father that worked until their bones ached deep for their child. And, while Eckhart still remained unpredictable and spontaneous, he took the edge off of himself and really thought about some of his actions. He took to developing deep bonds over the quick burn and heat of a fiery, passionate friendship.

To others, as Eckhart grew up, he became less of an ill-timed variable and more of a reassuring constant. While you never quite knew when he'd show up, you always knew he'd show up at least three times a day. That ill-timing still found itself a large part of Eckhart's personality - surely, it'd always stay - but it didn't have as much of an effect on those closest to him. A lot of the times, one can chalk it up to fate concerning when Eckhart showed up and whether that meant good news or not. For friends and family, that timing meant security and a relief to know that Eckhart would quite certainly know what to say or do at the exact right moment. Whether this seemed blind luck or just the ability to read people, many like to think the former. For Eckhart, it always came down to the latter because the longer Eckhart grew on a person, the more he understood them and the more he understood them, the better his timing became. Not a lot of people quite know that and it translates well into his performance as an athlete. Someone as spontaneous as he, who also happened to let instinct guide his footfalls and body movements, almost always found himself at the top of the varsity lists.

Of all the people Eckhart knows, however, Charlie holds the top of the list when it comes to Eckhart's knowledge of a person. It comes down to a particular science, almost, and with an unbelievable certainty that clued Eckhart in on his affections for the boy. Knowing someone's ticks down to the exact twitch of their lips or the the tiny furrow in their brow before it bloomed into something more severe couldn't quite be this level of normal for a friendship. And that readability came like a sudden wave - from fumbling around enough that he almost always spilled something on the kid in their younger years to finding the exact time to show up in order to reassure Charlie, in order to calm him before a panic hit, in order to quell the sabotaging thoughts before they even surfaced.

Eckhart's always been different, even in the way of falling in love.

❖ Heights; it's been known that this particular thrill seeker enjoys the thrill of a climb, but most of all, the thrill of standing at a summit - the apex of a building - and simply looking down in order to feel that grounding rush of adrenaline course through his body. He's crazy.
❖ Catnaps; particularly with another person (Charlie 90% of the time). Eckhart enjoys just flopping down somewhere, on top of someone, preferably, and taking a nice nap in the sun. Those bay windows with soft cushions and the nest of pillows have a special, special place in Eckhart's heart.
❖ Karaoke; okay, so maybe he's not the best, but at least he can carry a decent tune or sing a duet without sounding like nails on a chalkboard. Definitely should never go into singing as a career, but, hey, his rendition of Careless Whisper is actually kinda sweet to listen to - if he can disguise his voice in an upbeat song, it's pretty good, though. His specialty: 80s pop. However, he's a pretty good lip syncer, he likes to think.
❖ Sunbathing; a guy who likes catnapping obviously enjoys basking in the sun's glow and he'll take any chance he can get to (safely) cook out on a balcony, in a backyard, wherever he can in whatever privacy he can attain. He doesn't liking tanning beds, though; ironically enough, he's not out there to get a tan, he's just there to enjoy the exhaustion onset by the heat of the sun.

❖ Rumors; after achieving even a modicum of fame in the NFL, Eckhart's had to deal with more than his fair count of rumors. He's never liked gossip as a kid and now it's just become a mill of it wherever he goes. Tabloids don't shy away from anything, he's learned, and the first time he happened upon an article of himself, his small town country self couldn't quite get over the initial shock for hours.
❖ Dairy Products; no, he's not a vegan, but yes, he's very lactose intolerant. Eckhart discovered this the hard way, as a kid and for a child who loved milk of any form, it broke his heart to know that just a tiny sip sent him to the bathroom for hours.
❖ Late Nights; yeah, okay, call him an old man but it's actually not a surprise. Eckhart's functionality tends to hit its peak midday and the guy's kind of a morning person. Sleepy Eckhart tends to fair on the grumpy side.
❖ Standing Still; it takes everything in his body to keep still and sometimes, Eckhart just has no willpower to even fight the urge to move. Tell him to stand still for longer than a minute and you'll find yourself on the receiving end of someone who whines a lot. Charlie has to give him multiple breaks when he models for him or. However, if you're able to distract him with talk long enough, he'll find himself capable of being stationary for quite awhile - just gotta get that mouth chattering and moving to keep his body from doing just that thing.

There's that cliche that a lot of couples like to embellish when it happens. That entire thing about their lives not starting until they meet that special someone. Sometimes, Eckhart wishes he could say that and mean it entirely. While Charlie remains the most important part of his life, their meeting doesn't quite count as a checkpoint to their lives beginning. There's quite a bit that happened before any of that.

For Eckhart, though, life didn't quite come in vibrant colors until one: his family pushed him to try out sports and two: he came out to his parents. For Eckhart, the former tends to have more meaning as it lead to numerous amount of options and paths opening for Eckhart. The latter just happened and, while the moment could quite possibly hold the record for 'most anxious time of his life', the end result didn't matter as much as TV and movies liked to embellish. For his parents, it didn't mean anything either. For the entire American side of his family, however, it meant a little more than it should have. Of course, if they wanted to make a big deal about it, they had every right to. Something about assholes and everyone having one.

The adrenaline junkie in Eckhart sought out numerous ways to expend energy and to find that needed high to keep him fueled past the point of exhaustion. This lead to many, many times where Eckhart came home with more bruises and broken limbs than he'd liked to retell. The pain never came immediately; it always edged slowly until suddenly all he knew was the thousands of needles stabbing in whatever limb he abused to shit. For a mother who knew hard labor better than half the population, injuries didn't worry her. However, seeking out new ways to get injured (because, let's face it, Eckhart never came home with the same battle wounds) really didn't do well for her beauty sleep. She didn't tell him that when she shoved a brand new football into his chest and told him to ride his bike (safely) to his neighbor's house. That's exactly how he made his first friend, a girl by the name of Bailey who liked picking flowers, brushing horses, and tackling the shit out of boys who thought her wearing a dress was too girly for sports.

Oddly enough, sports worked as an outlet for Eckhart's energy. Not a minute passed he didn't rush on by full of adrenaline and the will to buckle down and win. And he learned a helluva lot more than just knocking heads; sports taught Eckhart how to appreciate a number of things. That bled into a gratitude for things outside of sports as the he came rushing down from a physical high. Sports allowed him to expend all that energy in one burst - to keep it up for hours at a time. After hours, Eckhart slowed down to a phenomenally relaxing pace, surprising his mother first and foremost.

That outcome came unexpectedly and no sooner did Eckhart learn to slow down did he learn to appreciate the beauty all around him. Camaraderie bolstered his idea of friendships having a deeper meaning. The value of catching a breath when things seemed too fast. How people seemed to prioritize good timing and patience over brash decision making. The fact that his eyes had suffered shut this whole time. Those realizations didn't happen in an instant, instead it came like wave. The sea grasped the beach while the tides rolled in, one after another, breaking land in a deep, white foam. And then, in the distance, a rolling press in the water rising and rising. It wove out, flattened the sea beneath it until it reached the land and ended its swell in a gratifying crash along the sand. And it's like having your back turned to that wave at the last second, knowing it was coming but anticipating its approach to let the adrenaline of the moment surge in thrilling anxiety. Then boom! it hits and in that moment all there is to see is bubbles and white foam and murky sand until the sea pulls you back into the clear. There's no breathing but not panic and all there is now is the sea floor and the blue of the water and the blue of the sky and there's no telling what ends where and what begins.

To say that Eckhart found his passion would be an understatement; it felt more like he found his true purpose, his calling. Sure, that felt dumb saying and he often didn't, but he couldn't help feel like what he was doing out on the field has meant more to him than most anything else in his life - parents notwithstanding. Until, of course, he met one Charlie Carrington. Once Eckhart found his stride in sports during school, various private schools with an actual, competitive sporting program did much to convince his parents to let him attend. Even so far as paying for the travel fair. They let Eckhart decide, however, as it would mean a vast change in both curriculum difficulty and society. Not many people appreciated the southern accent for what it was in the south. Luckily, time spent there kicked it out of his system rather quickly (with the help of voice coaches who the school hired immediately upon his first speaking).

The first and only private school Eckhart attended was actually home to a few big name Carringtons, though the closest one he ever got to had been Charles Carrington. At the time, he didn't think much of him aside from 'that's the kid I literally run into everyday!' Though more time spent making up for his 'accidental bullying' became a lot more time learning what made this teenager. And eventually, that turned into the school's varsity running back into a smitten fool. Ah, he wouldn't tell Charlie that for years to come, however, but that only fueled his drive to befriend him. Unfortunately, that meant going under quite a bit of scrutiny. A backwater kid from Kentucky sidling up to a kid who had billions of dollars backing him up looked ten times too shady. Luckily, that only really lasted till the end of college. (So maybe not quite so lucky, 'cause that meant a shit ton of years under the eyes of too many magazines he didn't read)

In the years they'd became fast friends, Eckhart found himself a heavy pillar by Charlie's side. That, he didn't mind, and the boy learned to appreciate knowing that someone depended on his presence alone so much. They didn't rely too heavily on each other, though, and Charlie found himself actually a lot more independent with Eckhart there to encourage him. They had many friends, or at least, Eckhart had many friends who happened to also quite like Charlie upon meeting him. Even if it boiled down to Charlie being the most important individual in his immediate vicinity, Eckhart learned that he could live without him. Until, of course, he learned that he couldn't really. While Charlie didn't need to be there all the time, Eckhart needed to know that Charlie would always remain a constant in his life. Unfortunately, he kept most of that thinking to himself and so his need for this individual in his life went wholly unnoticed by said individual.

Despite acting as a sturdy support for Charlie Carrington, Charlie didn't quite know his own importance to Eckhart. Which meant he didn't know how big of a pillar Charlie actually was in Eckhart's life. Not until it came down to confessions and cheesy romantic comedy cliches and eventually an entire night of spooning. That's when many of the tabloids and rumor mills rose from annoying pin-pricks to ruthless, savage stabs. They enjoyed their own viciousness in tearing Eckhart's intentions a part and often times, Eckhart needed moments of utter seclusion to readjust. That in itself made their relationship a lot harder than it should have, but Eckhart always assured Charlie's worries by adding Netflix binge watching to their many nights of isolation. He was quite lucky Charlie didn't fancy nightlife himself - and lucky he didn't either.

Needless to say, when Eckhart got drafted after college and Charlie began work for both galleries and clients, their lives got a helluva lot busier. The rumor mills only twisted their stories around there, yet they seemed quite milder when the juiciness seemed to wane out in the coming years. Now that Eckhart would be earning more than his fair share of the rent and the better he did in the NFL the bigger his name became, they just didn't quite find the same amount of thrill in tearing his life a part. Unfortunately, one problem only smoothed out for but a moment before moving into the next.

An entire nine years together and still neither really popped the question. Having earned their right to marry, even, didn't seem to get the wheels churning. Eckhart understood the lack of a proposal from either side, however, even if the ring he'd bought years ago burned holes into each one of his pockets. Work didn't offer much time, either, and the more Eckhart played, the more everyone seemed eager for his time. Time was precious and Eckhart knew that, but he couldn't just stop doing what he loved and he knew that Charlie couldn't either. Their jobs seemed to work great around each other, sure, but that didn't come hard when they often spent months away.

The moment to pop any sort of question or spend more than just a few fleeting moments together seemed so far into the horizon. And then suddenly it wasn't. Charlie had acquired an invitation to a family reunion and though he met Mr. and Mrs. Carrington a numerous amount of times (seemed like he was the only significant other that ever did, at the time) he hadn't gotten to meet the entire family. That also meant likely a month or more to hash out a plan of action. He just hoped it wasn't quite too late now.

❖ Due to being a part of the Patriots NFL team, Eckhart was more than happy to move to Boston. However, due to having ins in New York, Eckhart's settled on living on Brooklyn with Charlie. He's kinda happy, despite the 3 hour commute. At least during the season he doesn't actually have to make the commute every day.
❖ Eckhart loves visiting his family and when he's able to between games (should he be in Indiana or Cincinnati at the time) he'll give Charlie a call and have him fly down days prior. They spend a few days there, watch his game, and then go their separate ways.
❖ Out of the politeness of his heart, Eckhart sends Super Bowl tickets to all of his family, as well as all of Charlie's family (the ones he's able to contact, but especially Sam and her uh... on again off again wife [?] girlfriend [?] and son)
❖ Even though they aren't quite married yet, Eckhart goes over the top for his and Charlie's anniversaries. Despite being a spontaneous guy, he tends to plan them out to a T. And then watch as his plans fall a part because he has no impulse control.
❖ Eckhart's allergic to shellfish!
❖ He convinced Charlie they needed a cat and so now they have a Scottish Fold named 'Shoes' because she refused to sleep in her bed as a kitten and fancied Charlie's loafers. Still does, despite not being able to fit.