By the ripe young age of five, Daniel James Divi was more of a free spirited independent minded individual than most. The son of a photographer and a painter, he grew up in an environment where creative expression was openly encouraged. That being said, Danny made canvas after canvas of finger paints and page after page of crayon creations. On occasion, he even took his art to the walls of the studio apartment that they occupied in his younger years. Unlike other parents, they did not talk to him in raised voices but instead laughed and cherished what contributions he made to the atmosphere of their home. When Danny took an interest to painting his face with his mummy's makeup and prancing about in her high heeled shoes, his mother took the opportunity not to scold him, but to take photograph after photograph. Whatever way he wished to express himself, he was allowed. It was with the smooth tones of jazz that he danced about their apartment-- no television set to be found. Marta and Jacob didn't want their young child's imagination to be stunted by the dreadful things the boob tube offered. It was harmless enough and the young boy never felt deprived. There was love enough in their home that even during the times they had a hard time making ends meet, Danny was never the wiser.
Fast forward ten years later and Danny found himself in high school. His mum was successful enough to afford a studio of her own, but his father still worked out of their apartment. The family of three had long since moved from their modest studio apartment in the southern section of the city to the outskirts now residing in a quaint two bedroom, one bath, with the living room acting as a creative space for them all. Danny, inspired by the music he had heard as a child, had long since taken to playing the piano and many a night was spent pounding the ivory keys while his father crafted some new work he hoped to eventually sell, or hang somewhere in their home. The perfect vision that he had of his family was seriously shaken when returning home early one Friday night; he entered their apartment at half passed twelve (the time was subconsciously engraved in his memory) to discover that mum and dad were not spending the evening alone. Perhaps Danny's current qualms with monogamy resulted from that night but he never resented his parents, free as they were, for participating in a swinger lifestyle. After all, who was he to judge? They had always allowed him to be the person that he was. The next afternoon Marta and Jacob sat him down and talked it over, but after that it was never spoken of again. Danny was allowed to live the life he wanted, so why should he care that they lived how they wanted?
A year later, just sixteen years old, and Danny stood before his parents nervously proclaiming his own sexual preference. Despite how open minded they had always been with him, and how they had let him grown and make his own mistakes and figure everything out for themselves, there had been that intense knotting of his stomach that one can only associate with fear. For the first time in his life, Danny was afraid that his parents would not approve of something that he had done, or of who he had turned out to be. Those fears were put to rest when Marta wrapped her arms around him, kissed his forehead and jokingly jabbed that she had known from the moment he had decided the pink power ranger was his very favorite-- but not in a crush way, girls had cooties. His father, however, made no such remarks. In fact, he regarded it much the way Danny handled his parents rather open sexual relationship: only one confrontation needed and after that it was don't ask and don't tell. Still, worse reactions could have come and from that point on the teenage boy never felt the slightest need to censor himself or who he was again.
Nineteen years old, Danny had opted to follow in his mothers footsteps and attends a local university for photography. However, never able to tie himself down to any one thing, he also takes a number of writing classes with the odd minor in English/Creative Writing. Ever adapting to his surroundings, he has no concept of what he hopes to do after graduating from college. Though his parents never even hinted that he should receive a higher education-- the decision really was all up to him-- he had attended if only to put off the real world for a few more years. Who wanted to hold a full time job when you could take off at three a.m. because you were suddenly struck with some sort of inspiration, not having to worry about being conscious enough for your nine to five? That is not to suggest that the boy lived off of his parents; they'd also taught him to be as independent as possible. Twenty or more hours a week he dedicated his time as a barista at the local Starbucks. It was nothing glamorous but it was an easy enough job and gave him the flexibility he needed for school as well as the cash in his pocket to afford what small luxuries he may.
Twenty one. What a fucking milestone. And one that Danny never thought that he would see. Forget the legally being able to buy alcohol-- okay, don't really forget it, but it was far less important than other things. Danny never thought he'd wind up somewhere settled down. Happy. At a point in his life where he was content to create, be himself, and reach for absolutely anything he possibly could. But one fucking jerk also known as Drystan came along and threw the boy for a loop. A trickster, a player, and one always smooth on his feet, Danny got tangled up in his own games and found himself hand in hand more than enamored with the other. Taking on the world together, they're planning their family and their future which is no easy task for students, artists, and little jerks.
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