《Fifty Million Followers [BOYXBOY]》11.

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The hotel we're staying in is one of the grandest I've ever seen. Built entirely with glass and steel, it's like we'll be living in an armoured greenhouse for the next few weeks. We've got the whole top floor; not because we need it, but because we can.

Or, just because Mitch Simmons can.

He has the hotel wrapped around his little finger. Privacy is what we're after, he says in a thick English accent while leaning against the reception counter. They know who we are, they don't need to be told twice.

My room is the furthest away from Oliver, and I kind of like it like that. I've been sleeping opposite him during our drive here, watching his chest rise and fall in peaceful sleep every fucking night while I wallowed in whatever it was I felt that night.

Luke walks lazily in front of is, bottle now discarded and his long coat turned up at the collar to cover his neck, a chill running through the hotel from the strong AC that seems to be everywhere in this city.

It's hot. I get it.

He waves us off before fumbling for his key card and sliding it into his door's port. I can't tell whether he's shattered or drunk, the two becoming so similar now. I should be thankful; it could be worse, it could be drugs, could be violence. A drink now and then isn't that bad, right?

Luke slams his door shut, and just as he does, out of sight, Oliver's door swings open and Candice stands in the door frame, still wearing shorts but instead of denim they're now a soft cotton for sleeping in. She rubs the door frame as if she's there to inspect and not to see Oliver home like a doting twenty-one year old wife.

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It's all grossly heterosexual.

My fingers itch for a cigarette, and Oliver turns to me.

"See you in the morning, Scottie." His voice is quieter than usual, as if he doesn't want Candice to hear, even though I'm fairly positive everyone knows we'll see each other in the morning.

"Right."

He ruffles my hair a little, our last touch of the day, but my fingers have already dipped into my pocket where I keep rolling papers. He strides across the corridor and presses a tender kiss against Candice's forehead, so tender and gentle and I feel it on my own, cold skin, right between the eyes.

Their door closes, and I'm left alone. Completely alone.

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