Music bounced off the exposed brick walls from the band in the corner, where eighties drumbeats and keyboards backed up the ethereal vocals of a tall, pale woman all in black, hanging on the microphone stand for dear life. A mass of black swayed before the stage, in the small space of the dance floor between the band and the bar on the other side of the room. Chains and meat hooks hung from the ceiling, leftover from the building's days as a slaughterhouse, glittering in the pulsing, flashing neon lights. Out of the cold rain, inside was warm and humid, smelling of too much cologne and spice.

The whole scene hit Drew like a wall, and he paused inside the door to grimace. It felt like David immediately got lost in the crowd, blending in where always before he stuck out like a sore thumb. Drew stood, disoriented for a heart pounding minute in the music and lights and warmth, before David doubled back to take him by the hand and lead him in. They went to the bar, an all-white slab covered in skulls and bones, with a glass top. Behind, on the mirrored wall, rows of glowing neon specimen bottles intermixed with alcohol, controlled by a bartender who wasn't particular about which bottle he reached for.

"Drink," David said, placing a shot glass in front of him.

Drew looked at it carefully, and as it wasn't glowing some poisonous color, he decided it was safe to throw back. It burned all the way down, heating him from the inside out, quickly followed by another.

David took a shot, then passed the other two to Drew, who tossed them off without objection. Holding a shot in his hands, David looked back into the club, over the mass of moving bodies towards the stage, where, not that long ago, another band had been playing....

**

SEVEN MONTHS AGO

Music filled the gloomy space from brick wall to brick wall, the band on the small stage in the corner in rare form, blasting out intense guitar riffs, pounding drums, and a dark, melancholy voice to the crowd of black clad, zippered and chained, heavy makeup wearing mass of young adults who felt it to their core. In the short, dirty corridor that led to the bathrooms, the brick walls papered with posters, David had one hand over one ear, and his phone up to the other. He dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt with random black patches of fishnet, black pants with strips of leather, hair—black on top with colored pieces underneath towards the nape—parted deeply on the side, and his eyes and nails in black.

"Are you sure it's okay?" David spoke loudly into the phone. "I can—"

"It's fine," said Jason in his ear. "You deserve a night out with your friends. I can use the time to catch up on some work. You're a big distraction, you know."

"I try."

Jason chuckled. "Have fun," he said. "I can't promise I'll be awake when you get in, though"

"That's fine," David said. "The risk I take with an older man."

"That joke is what's getting old, you little—"

David laughed.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jason said. "And keep the drinking to a minimum, huh? There's only so much I can ignore."

"Yes, Major," David said, smiling at the sound Jason made. "Good night."

"Night, babe. See you in the morning."

David hung up, and with a smile still on his face, slipped the phone into his pocket and headed back into the club. As he got to the bar, the bartender, a tall, thin man with more tattoos and piercings than skin, set a drink down in front of him, vodka and cranberry. He said nothing, but gave a sharp upward nod behind David.

Turning around, David looked across the room and locked eyes with a pair of dark eyes outlined in black. They belonged to the tall young man behind the microphone, around his age, with longish dark hair brushed straight back, a lean, angular face, a straight nose with silver ring through one nostril, and full pink lips. In his ears were almost as many piercings as David, and around his neck several silver chains with crosses. He wore a black sleeveless t-shirt with a deep V front that showed off a toned chest and arms, both of which were heavily tattooed. He held a guitar as he sang, and held David's gaze for a full minute, making his interest clear with his gaze and a devilish grin that showed dimples in his cheeks.

David held the gaze, holding it the way someone might hold an object of mild curiosity, examining it before putting it down and turning away. His back to the eyes that still watched him, he picked up the vodka and cranberry, downed it in one and set the glass back on the counter with a loud—

**

PRESENT

—thud, striking the glass top with alarming force and making David jump.

"Sorry," Drew said, holding a hand up to the bartender, who glared at him, while passing his other hand over his mouth. He glanced at David. "You okay? You look a little pale?"

David turned away from the unwanted memories, crossing his arms and leaning them on the bar. "How can you tell?" he asked. "I'm always pale."

Drew laughed. "Because I know you, little buddy," he said, his body warm and relaxed, his guard down. "And all your different shades."

"You really can't hold your liquor, can you," David said, taking a shot.

"Never could." Turning to look out at the dancing crowd, he said, "That looks like fun."

"Go ahead," David said. "I won't tell a soul." He held the glass to his lips and added in an unheard murmur, "I have no one to tell."

"Come with me," Drew said. And before David could agree or decline, the other young man grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the crowd...

**

SEVEN MONTHS AGO

The undulating mass of bodies pressed him on all sides, and he closed his eyes, letting the music and the heat and the alcohol wipe his mind, freeing him from all earthly attachments. The band had changed, and now a mellow voice sung over a high, thrilling violin and heavy metal guitar riff. One moment he was alone in the void, and another, hands touched his waist, sliding along his back and stomach as he turned within them. With some other sense he knew exactly who they belonged too, and when he turned and looked up, he was not at all surprised to see the dark eyes that had caught him before.

David met and held gaze. The hands around his waist pulled him closer. His own hands slid up bare arms. The scent of cologne and sweat and leather polish filled his nose. The eyes lowered to his lips. The dark hair head leaned in. His head tilted up, and his eyes closed. A breath whispered across his cheek.

Around them the music rose to a crescendo, pulsing and pounding and spiraling to dizzying heights.

**

PRESENT

Through the heavy metal doors of the night club and out into the cold night air, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the dark brick ground slick and reflective and the air smelling both crisp and damp. Drew shouldered pass a group coming in as he went out, stopping on the sidewalk to glance around. About half a dozen figures loitered in the open night air, under the lamppost at the curb or along the side of the club, drinking, and smoking and other things. From inside, he could hear the muted sounds of music, and from a few feet away he could hear the coughing, heaving of his friend as the young man threw up over a sewer grate.

"Now who can't hold his liquor," Drew said, walking slightly unsteadily towards David.

Bent double, head down, David's face was hidden. He rose a hand to his mouth, and it was only when Drew got closer did he hear the breathy sobs.

"Hey, dude, are you okay?" Drew asked, bending slightly to look at him and laying a hand on the thin, narrow back.

"No," David said, the quiet voice choked with tears. "Because he's gone. He left."

"Wh—oh," Drew said, realizing halfway through the question the answer.

"I messed up," David continued, still bent over, his hands on his knees, sobbing quietly. "I messed up, I messed up..."

Just a few years ago, Drew would have had no idea what to do with David like this. Growing up, he had never been able to understand David, had never known how to help even if he did. But that time was gone. Gripping the thin arm, he helped David to stand, holding him steady as David drew ragged breaths. He turned David to face him, seeing the pale face that was paler than ever, the dark eyes wet and glistening like the rain slick ground, the nose tipped in red.

"Hey," Drew said gently, having to hold on with both hands as David began to shake. "Hey, it's okay. I'm sure whatever you did wasn't—"

"I cheated on him."

Drew blinked, staring at the young man in his hands. Whatever he had been expecting, that was not it.

David sniffed, licking tears from his lips. "I cheated on him," he repeated, drawing deep breaths. He looked up at Drew, dark wet eyes meeting startled blue. "And it wasn't just once."

A beat passed. A few people came out of the club and joined a clump under the lamppost, laughter rising and falling.

"Okay," Drew said quietly. "I think that's enough drinking for tonight."

Still held by Drew's hands, David bent his head forwards until his forehead touched Drew's chest, and breathy sobs once more wracked the slender frame.