[IC] more than just a dream

[jakob]

Ari had no idea what he was doing here. At some huge banquet hall, even larger than his already ridiculously sized home, wearing the most expensive Giorgio Armani suit he’d ever owned. There was no real reason for him to be there. His dad was celebrating the tenth anniversary of his favorite child, which was, in fact, not any sibling of Ari’s but actually the website-turned-‘social media platform’ his father had started working on way early in college. Really, he didn’t do it alone, but the other guy got no credit. Ever. Initially it was the two of them, George Livingston and John Rothschild, complete nerds in high school, heads of every programming and computer science related extracurricular, graduating on to MIT and planning on maybe becoming freelance programmers - at best. That in itself was the hardest part for Ari to believe. At the time, they didn’t think they were much; now he was pretty sure both of them were huge assholes even if he had barely even seen John in person.

Anyway - they built a portfolio in Ari’s grandmother’s basement/storm shelter, naturally a cringey picture to think of, all 80’s with shag carpeting and wooden panels and rows and rows of industrial sized cans in a pantry, except with a twist; George’s massive, geeky collection of hardware. And, well. Software, too, if you counted the tons of useless programs he never released to the world. Initially the platform was supposed to be a private website for himself, John, and their peers from extracurriculars - and then he realized nothing like theirs existed. No one had such a mature, idealized messaging system, no place to update others, no place with a single purpose of interaction. Or, at least, nothing was as well-functioning, if you could call it that. Given the fact that there were at least one hundred revisions, perhaps it wasn’t exactly a perfect software, but John and George were well-versed in program, knew what they were doing.

The website was made public in the early 2000’s, but only really got traction in the lates, which is exactly the time that shit started hitting the fan. John insisted that they change the platform entirely: it should be image-based for clarity, it should be a cohesive photostream for users to share their life and interact with others, it would be better if we did X or Y. George was still stuck to the same path of sticking primarily to text, to bigger profiles and more ways to interact with other users, to almost the same layout as the one they’d initially begun with that went post-by-post. John was the creator, the innovator, and George was adamant that they’d stay successful on the road they were already on; and, taking a risk, John left his partner so soon after they could officially call themselves a company. He started his own platform, developed it into a phone application much more functional than George’s, and was suddenly picking up as much traction in a year as it took their initial program to get in a decade of work.

The more updates George made, though, and the less John could keep up with him, their competition grew fiercer and bitterness between them worsened. George’s net worth was in the billions while John’s was just on the cusp of that title; he had less investors, a smaller user base, more bugs on all version of his platform than George. Naturally, they weren’t friends anymore. Which, again, in an opinion nobody asked for, Ari thought was bullshit. They could’ve compromised and made double whatever his dad’s business was making, whatever the hell it was, as he didn’t keep up with any of this capitalistic shitshow. Anyway. In what could either be a cold gesture, or a sign of goodwill after such a long rivalry between his father and his ex-best friend and business partner, John was invited to the celebration. Of a company he dropped out of that became more successful than his. Honestly, Ari didn’t have the guts to ask what in the hell his dad was thinking.

Miraculously, he came, and clearly Ari’s dad had been waiting the entire night for this to happen. When he saw heads turn to watch them meet each other by the door, Ari decided it was time he ducked outside and missed whatever drama was about to ensue. He had Scott by his side, one of dad’s investor’s sons, already, and he saw a familiar face at the door that he considered maybe rescuing on account of the fact that he was pretty. River. He’d seen him in tabloids, naturally a rich kid followed around for no reason other than their parents, just like Ari. He didn’t know a lot about him - after all, if his father new he was learning about his rival’s kid (or, worse, thought he was kind of cute), he would not be too pleased. Either way. Ari was kind of pissed at his dad for being embarrassing right now, so he decided to extend an olive branch, at least between the children born during this ridiculous catfight.

He wasn’t friendly by choice, so River could invite himself, but as Ari and Scott passed through the gathered people and beyond the scope of John and George, he nodded at River in acknowledgment, keeping his eyes on him while he pushed through the double doors with his back (out of his periphery, he was fairly sure Scott was looking at him too, then, oddly enough, critically at Ari). Almost immediately, he was on the curb, looking at the massive roundabout driveway with valets milling about and wondering if they’d loan him a car. ”Ari. River Rothschild? Really?” Ari snapped out of it, looked at Scott, who was folding down onto the curb beside him, straightening his tie and looking judgmental as ever. ”What? Oh, you think... Scott, listen, I didn’t give him the ‘fuck me’ eyes, I gave him the ‘isn’t this some shit’ eyes. It’s different. You wouldn’t know.” He grinned, making fun, and Scott looked unimpressed. ”You’re very expressive.” Ari sighed, long-suffering. ”And I’m expressing that I want you to fuck off.”

[Neve]

River knew what his father was doing here, but wasn’t exactly sure why he had to turn up- he knew absolutely no one and wasn’t even the slightest bit involved in his father’s business. He had no plans to be. In fact, whenever somebody had tried to explain the whole ‘Rothschild-Livingston’ feud story to him, he kind of just tuned out because he didn’t care. Personally, he thought it was fucking stupid and didn’t the two grown men have bigger problems than have petty fights over which ridiculously rich man was the richest? Didn’t the world have more important things to care about than the privileged kids of said grown men? Apparently not. River was sick of it, but he wasn’t exactly confrontational and didn’t tend to argue just because it was exhausting to argue with his persistent father; so most of the time he just hung around in the background, or else when he wasn’t being shadowed by John, he used this platform he had been thrust upon to actually talk about the shit he cared about. A little cliche, really- some rich boy pretending he was hard-done to and becoming an environmental and social activist to make up for it.

At least River was self-aware. It was a fancy occasion that he and his family had been spitefully invited to; John had reminded him that when they were at his tailors and getting suits fitted. River nodded along, having barely paid attention, and just bought the first one he had even tried on. Plain black, relatively inexpensive. Before they’d left River had stared disinterestedly at his reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out Gay the hell he should do with his hair, which had grown a little too long at this point (he reminded himself to get a haircut soon). Eventually he just swept it back a little and let it do whatever the fuck it wanted. Again, cliche. Once he was ready he’d again quietly asked why he even had to come, but his dead just huffed, clearly flustered and more wound up about the whole thing than he cared to admit, and insisted that the invitation was addressed to the ‘Rothschild household’- that included River and all of his siblings. Great. So there was no getting out of it. With barely the twitch of an eyebrow he climbed into the car, leaning against the window. Honestly, he just wanted to go to sleep.

On the way there, he did just that, slipping briefly into unconsciousness. Nobody else around him seemed alarmed- his younger brother just glanced at him every so often to make sure he was alright. Before they knew it, they were at the venue, some ridiculous banquet hall, and River could see the envy and frustration burning in John’s eyes. He rolled his own and stepped out of the car once it came to a stop, standing aside so the rest of his family could pour out of the car, including his dad, who was trying much too hard to look dignified, so much so that it was obvious how mortified he was by this whole thing. But it would have been even more mortifying not to show up, or something. River barely cared. He just trailed behind the rest of his family, running a hand through his hair to move it out from behind his glasses, and lingered for a second awkwardly while John and the Livingston monarch (George?) reunited very tensely at the door.

His eyes drifted. He was bored already of this pompous, melodramatic shit. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone- two people, even, two boys, he thought, though one of them was kind of androgynous. They looked about his age. River recognised neither of them and just blinked as the shorter one made eye contact and held it as he pushed out of the door with his back. It seemed like the dark-haired one was looking at him, too, and River was a little disconcerted- but also his interested was piqued, especially now that they had revealed an escape to him. Looking back at his family, his siblings were mingling a ways off together, his dad and Livingston were still talking, and their wives were muttering to eachother but keeping a keen eye on their husbands. Wonderful. Nobody would miss him. Waiting a few more long moments just to be sure, River then weaved between people who hadn’t yet caught wind of his arrival and after a pause by the exit, he left the building the same way that the two others had.

Immediately he heard voices and stood close to the wall like he was trying to stay hidden. He wasn’t- it was just subconscious. River tried not to listen in because he knew he’d get half of a conversation with no context and that was good for nobody. What he did hear, though, was nonsense that he didn’t even begin to try and piece together; ‘fuck me eyes’, ‘you’re very expressive’, ‘I want you to fuck off’. What he did get that was tangible, though, were two names. The tall, dark one was Scott, the shorter and prettier one was- well, it began with A. River cleared his throat and took a step forward, shoving his hands in his pockets. ”Hey. I saw you guys come outside and- well, it seemed smarter than taking part in the circus.” He twisted around and cast a glance back at the door, then tilted his head a little and fixed his eyes on... Ari? ”This might sound a little rude, but I feel like I should know who you are.” A pause. ”And I don’t.”

[jakob]

Despite the differences between their fathers, and the fact that they’d never met (or forced from meeting, along with the rest of either family), Ari and River were kind of similar. Both would agree that their fathers were huge, dumb assholes, capitalistic and obsessed unnecessarily with money. Both would agree that the feud was ridiculous, and anyone following the offspring of those feuding like paparazzi were stupid, too, because what the hell did two rich guys’ kids have to be famous for? Well. There started the differences: Ari was vaguely aware of how River utilised his platform, for the better of the world and to speak out for what he believed in. And, y’know, Ari might hold the same views, but he definitely wasn’t much of an activist. An activist was more eloquent than he was, with unoriginal one-liners like ‘eat the rich,’ ‘kill the one percent,’ and, less politically, ‘get your fucking camera out of my face.’ Ironically that just earned him more coverage.

Yea, Ari had seen magazine covers about him, particularly the kind you looked at absently next to all of the convenience candy by the register while you waited for your turn to check out at a corner store. He’d seen those ridiculous Snapchat newsstories, and links from friends, like, ‘hey, check out what your arch nemesis is up to,’ as if he had ever seen or spoken to River himself. That was about it, though, he only heard headlines, never a full story, never delved too much for fear that he’d get too involved in his dad’s stupid catfight that’d gone on all his life. Now it was different - said stupid catfight had apparently found its peak and was getting so fucking annoying that Ari saw an opportunity to potentially piss his dad off and took it. Plus the fact that River might be a little attractive, that didn’t hurt. He was already well aware, yeah, whatever, but what you see in pictures versus what you see in person... River seemed to just get better.

So. He maybe sort of invited him along. Scott looked like he was going to argue more about it when they both heard River from behind, turning in unison as they guiltily pretended they weren’t just arguing about him. After a moment’s thought they both stood up, Ari hurriedly in order to seem vaguely polite (almost as if he’d ever striven to make a good impression on anyone), Scott more calmly and composed. Hey. I saw you guys come outside and- well, it seemed smarter than taking part in the circus. Scott laughed first, naturally, and Ari looked at him briefly before deciding to smile, too, shrugging his shoulders. ”That’s the plan. Avoiding the idiots.” River seemed pretty calm considering it was their first time meeting, two kids supposed to hate each other in solidarity with their fathers, probably. So maybe they were as similar as he thought.

River turned again then looked back at him, and Ari was almost concerned. This might sound a little rude, but I feel like I should know who you are. Oh. His gaze flickered to Scott, who had his lips pursed like he was going to burst out laughing any second now. And I don’t. It was maybe a little embarrassing how often he’d seen River for the same not to apply to him, although they did have different personalities despite their views. For instance, he was sure the only media River paid attention to was shit that mattered, like world crises and environmental issues, whatever. Ari, on the other hand, kept up with all trashy news available to him, was embarrassingly knowledgable on subjects that made zero difference in his or anyone’s life. So it wasn’t that hard to believe River didn’t know what he looked like, or if he had seen him, didn’t remember his face. But it was kind of pissing him off how funny Scott clearly found it, so he set his jaw, shooting an annoyed look from the corner of his eye to the tallest of them all.

Ari held out a hand, half-smiling as much as he could muster. ”I’m Ari Livingston. Our fathers have hated each other for about a decade and a half.” He saw Scott opening his mouth to introduce himself and decided to cut him off, since he had decided to be more of an asshole than usual today. ”Scott Whitaker, he’s one of my dad’s investor’s kids. You can ignore him. He’s a dipshit.” Scott was already reaching to take River’s hand after him, clearly ignoring the comment. Nice to meet you. Yeah, yeah, shut up. ”Glad we both agree that the feud is ridiculous.”

[Neve]

River tried his best to use his platform to only talk about he things he thought were important, but even when he did, he felt like an idiot and was never really confident, even if it was something he passionately believed in- and, when he was asked to talk about himself, his personal life, he clammed up completely, not out of a disdain for celebrity culture or whatever, but because he was shy. And didn’t know why, for the life of him, people would be interested in his life- nothing ever happened, apart from when, you know, he was dragged along to these ridiculous events and just went along with it because he wasn’t exactly the confrontational type. His father had asked him to pick out a new suit for the occasion and he did so. He’d ignored the suggestion of a haircut.

He wasn’t camera shy, per say- though to be honest River had never felt fully at ease in his whole life- and when spoken to, he responded plainly and honestly. He was even willing to gratify photographers, who thought he was some kind of cryptic, dreamy woodland creature, with a few pretentious photoshoots, and that’s why, for some reason, he was so popular among his own generation- his family, his muted and gentle brand of activism, and the fact he looked at all times like he was a melancholy poet or artist lost in the wilderness. It was ridiculous. River didn’t know what all the fuss was about- he barely paid any attention to his own reflection and allowed photographers to pick whatever they thought looked good. He was nothing special, and for some reason, people wouldn’t leave him alone.

Even amongst the more rich and even more famous, people recognised River before he them, and it was startling. It had been a while since he’d attended an event like this and he was already anticipating being cornered by someone until an opportunity to escape in the form of some kid beckoning him over caught his eye, and, after hesitating for mere moments, he followed, running a hand apprehensively through his long hair that perhaps was, in fact, due for a cut. He pushed open the doors and stepped out into the dim light, reaching up to straighten his tie subconsciously as he strolled forwards, bearing witness to what seemed to be a small argument. At first he thought nothing of it, but. The two men looked guilty once he announced himself. River raised his eyebrows, his expression otherwise neutral. That’s the plan. Avoiding the idiots. River grinned. ”Sorry, I’ll go back inside.”

It hit him then that he hadn’t even introduced himself and he had no idea who these two men were- the shorter one, with lighter hair, had an unfairly, androgynously pretty face, and River felt like he should recognise it. The taller of the two had dark hair and dark eyes and he was handsome enough that River felt unnerved looking at him for too long, so he flicked his eyes from one to the other to avoid lingering eye contact. The latter was completely unfamiliar, but apparently he was right in his guess that he should know who the former was- when he asked, bracing himself to apologise for forgetting someone, the taller one looked on the verge of laughter. Shit. His only company for the shitty evening and he’d already offended the prettiest one.

I’m Ari Livingston. Ari... Oh, Livingston. Right, made sense. River shifted a little, suddenly uncomfortable, wondering whether this guy hated him and it had been a mistake coming out here. People were so volatile and unpredictable. Our fathers have hated eachother for about a decade and a half. River smiled, earnest- at least he was upfront- and shook his hand. ”River.” Scott Whitaker, he’s one of my dad’s investor’s kids. You can ignore him. He’s a dipshit. He nodded at Scott with a smile, and took his hand again- his handshake was stronger than Ari’s, he noted, looking up at him briefly. Nice to meet you. ”You too.”

Glad we can both agree this feud is ridiculous. River nodded, running a hand through his hair and exhaling, looking back towards the building. ”This party is ridiculous, I’d rather be doing- anything else. I feel stupid, look at this suit.” He gestured to himself, exasperated. He paused and looked between the two again. “You, uh, look like you belong here.” He murmured, nodding towards Scott, smiling only a little, then directed another comment towards Ari. “Whereas I feel like you and I are maybe on the same page.”