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In the corner of some stinky dive bar with a floor so filthy you feel your shoes stick to the floor as you walk, Itoshi Sae stands in the corner, nursing his drink. There’s a girl in Sae’s ear chattering on about something he really couldn’t give a shit less about, and can’t even be bothered to pretend to. He hasn’t looked at her face in at least 15 minutes, maybe more, and she isn’t deterred in the least, nearly shouting to be heard over the music. It’s a real pity she’s straining her throat in an effort to catch his attention, but then again, she could have taken a hint and walked off at any point. Sae rakes his eyes over the crowd, searching for his bastard friend who dragged him out tonight. All of the bands on tonight’s line up are either shitty or unknown, but that bastard roommate of his has a side piece playing lukewarm covers with the rest of her lukewarm band.
Flashing lights and smoke fill the room, and Sae downs the rest of his jack and coke in an effort to force down just how badly he does not want to fucking be here. The girl at his side is still talking, and Sae cuts her off mid-sentence as his tunnel vision hones in on the bar. He makes his way through the crowd, pushing and shoving against the sweaty bodies ruthlessly. It’s the only way to get anything done in crowded venues like this, where thoughtless, selfish people can’t be bothered to maintain any sort of spatial awareness. With the bar in sight, Sae’s misfortune continues, as a tall man with spiky blonde and pink hair steps back at exactly the wrong moment, slamming into Sae and causing them to both stumble.
“Watch it, asshole,” Sae snaps as he pushes the stranger off of him.
The man looks angry when he starts to turn, but upon seeing Sae’s face, breaks into a mischievous grin. His fangs are fully visible, pearly white and sharp enough to cut through flesh. “No apology? That’s not very nice,” the man teases.
Sae throws over his shoulder as he’s walking off, “I won’t apologize for your mistake.”
A low wolf whistle can be heard from somewhere behind him, and then the sound of footsteps trailing him as he finally, finally makes it to the bar.
“What can I getcha?” The bartender yells over the music.
“Vodka soda,” Sae says, fishing for his wallet. He hadn’t bothered to open up a tab, because he wanted to be able to bolt at the first opportunity.
“Make it two and put it on my tab,” a familiar voice calls from behind him.
Sae turns around to stare at him incredulously as the bartender sets to work making their drinks. “What are you doing, insect?”
“Trying to hold your attention for a little longer,” he says, voice sticky sweet like honey meant to conceal something sharp and dangerous underneath.
The bartender slides the drinks across the bar and the man catches Sae by the crook of his arm, pulling him towards one of the empty tables lining the wall. Sae is too shocked to resist, only able to trail after him dumbly. He pulls a chair out for Sae before dragging up one for himself.
Sticking a hand out to Sae, his pink eyes flash with something intense and burning. “Ryusei.”
Sae stares at the hand for a moment as if it were some disgusting dead thing, before reaching out to shake it. “Sae.”
“What brings you out tonight, sweetheart?”
Sae snorts. “Not these shitty bands, that’s for sure.”
Ryusei raises his brows, clearly surprised. “Really? You don’t like any of them?”
“They’re all either shitty or nobodies. Not even worth the price of admission,” Sae grumbles, the liquor loosening his lips. “These people are all just here because of the hipster superiority complex of enjoying music no one else listens to. No one listens to them because they are bad .”
Ryusei freezes for a moment, clearly caught off guard, before doubling over laughing.
Sae frowns. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Ryusei says, wiping tears. “You’re a little brutal, aren’tcha?”
“Not brutal if it’s the truth. This crowd wouldn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground, and it’s easy to appease people like that.”
“Do you plan to stick around long?”
“Not if I can help it, but my roommate is somewhere in this room chasing tail and he’s my ride.”
Ryusei’s grin stretches impossibly wider. “Hang out with me for a bit. I’d love to get more of your enlightening commentary.”
Sae, with nothing better to do, obliges.
They chat for the next hour, with Ryusei firing off questions here and there, attempting to pick Sae’s brain. Sae shares his knowledge and thoughts on whatever group is on stage, and realizes this is the most fun he’s had all night. Ryusei jokes around with him, giving him casual touches insinuating that he isn’t just being friendly. He’s attractive, Sae admits, with his piercings and tattoos covering his arms. Ryusei wears tight clothing that is all torn black fabric and mesh, and Sae distinctly thinks that if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t be able to pull off such a look. He can’t pull his eyes away from Ryusei’s glossy lips and the way he absentmindedly fiddles with his lip ring when he’s thinking, the liquor coating everything in a warm haze. Sae feels so out of character with the heat pooling in his stomach from Ryusei’s hand resting idly on his thigh.
“I have to go for a bit. Make sure you get a good spot near the stage, and wait for me,” Ryusei says, rising to his feet and stretching his arms over his head.
“Where are you going? Why do I need to be near the stage?”
“Oh? I must have forgotten to mention it,” Ryusei says, leaning so close to Sae that he can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I’m one of the nobodies performing tonight.”
He disappears into the crowd before Sae even has a chance to react, leaving him frozen in place. All the sounds around him turn to white noise, and maybe if it hadn’t been true, he’d almost be embarrassed. Sae feels intrigued more than anything, curious to see how his new friend does. Rising from his seat, he begins to make his way through the crowd when, for the second time, a hand shoots out to grab him, pulling him back.
“Sae, I finally found you.” Oliver smiles lazily, even in the face of Sae’s indignation.
“Where’s your friend?” Sae asks, voice full of clear disdain.
“Funny you ask,” Oliver says, as a girl with brightly colored hair and thick rings of black eyeliner circling her eyes leans out to look at Sae from around Oliver. “This is Hana.”
“Hi Sae! Oliver told me so much about you. Did you catch our performance?”
Unfortunately, Sae doesn’t say. Her band sounded like they were just picking up their instruments for the first time, and Hana’s vocals were so flat it nearly made his socks roll down. “It certainly was… unique.”
Hana smiles, clearly pleased as she thanks him for saying so.
It hadn’t been a compliment.
The band on stage wraps up their last song and makes their way off stage, to scattered, less than enthusiastic applause. The next band makes their way on stage, and everything falls away except for Ryusei, with his black bass hanging off his body. Sae is close enough to the stage to see sweat already beading on Ryusei’s forehead. Ryusei leisurely plugs his bass into the amp and idly strums a few notes as the rest of his band gets settled. His eyes meet Sae’s and he winks, sticking his tongue out playfully. Sae rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his drink.
Oliver looks back and forth between Ryusei on stage and Sae next to him, as if ensuring his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
Oliver looks at him skeptically. “Really? Because he certainly seems to know you.”
“Who is he?”
“The bassist for this new band, King Cream. Really talented kid, if it weren’t for his volatile personality, he’d probably be pretty popular.”
Sae scowls at the vulgar title. “What a name.”
“He punched a club promoter like two weeks ago actually. Broke his nose.”
“Did the promoter deserve it?”
Oliver stares at Sae like he’s sprouted a third head. Sae pretends not to notice.
The lights on the stage go down, drawing both of their eyes to the tall, dark haired man in the center of the stage. His smile feels slimy and gross; Sae thinks he looks like he smells. He says a few words introducing the band as the guitarist off to the left begins to strum the opening of a song. The rest of the band follows suit, and they launch into an up-tempo, guitar heavy song. Sae looks back over to Ryusei to find him staring back, refusing to break eye contact. He sways gently in time with the music, as what seems like a thousand hands shoot up from the front of the stage to grab at him. Red, blue and purple lights dance over his figure, somehow making him appear even more alluring. Sae hates how disgustingly attractive he is, and hates how disgustedly attracted Sae is to him. Every thump, thump, thump of Ryusei’s bass hits him like a fucking brick, and Sae thinks to himself Ryusei might as well be plucking away at his sanity in time with the notes.
The band finishes their set, and Sae is pleasantly surprised. They were pretty good. He wonders if Ryusei was serious about finding him after, but he doesn’t have to wonder for long. A hand clasps him firmly on the shoulder, as a tall shoulder falls over him.
“Soooo,” Ryusei says directly into his ear. “What did you think? Not bad for a nobody, right?”
“It was alright,” Sae lies, averting his eyes.
“You certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself. You couldn’t take your filthy little eyes off me,” Ryusei teases.
“You’re just projecting.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“Are you about to leave?” Sae asks, hoping the answer is no.
“Not as long as you’re here. Let’s go do a shot.”
Ryusei gently guides Sae to the bar with a hand on the small of his back, and Sae couldn’t be more grateful that he’s going to drink more.
The bartender lines up two shots and they knock them back with ease, Ryusei scrunching up his face as he slams the glass back down on the bar.
Afterwards, they head out to the alley behind the bar. Ryusei pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offers one to Sae. Sae doesn’t make a habit of smoking, but finds himself enjoying a cigarette whenever he drinks as heavily as he has tonight.
Ryusei lights his own, before leaning in close to light Sae’s with the tip of his own. He takes a long drag, blowing smoke into the cold night air. Sae wants to touch him. Sae wants to be touched by him. His arms feel like lead weights at his sides and all he has wanted since seeing Ryusei on that stage is to touch. Sae turns his gaze out towards the street, where fewer cars are passing by as the minutes tick past 1am.
“You waited for me,” Ryusei says suddenly. “Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“I’m sure you have one.” Ryusei tosses the cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with his foot. “I’m asking because I had a reason for asking you to stay. Would you like to hear it?”
“I think you’re going to tell me either way.”
Ryusei plucks the cigarette from Sae’s lips, doing the same thing he had done to his own. “I think you are very, very pretty.”
“That’s not a very good reason,” Sae says almost breathlessly as Ryusei leans in closer, propping himself up with arm against the wall by Sae’s head.
“I disagree,” Ryusei whispers, moving his other hand up to cup Sae’s cheek. “Imagine if you had left. Imagine if I didn’t get to be alone with you in this alley, where I can touch you however I like.”
“Then do it, coward,” Sae spits, just as Ryusei pulls him in for a kiss.
Sae wraps his arms around Ryusei’s neck, desperate to have him closer . Ryusei tastes like sweat and cigarettes and tequila and when he pushes his tongue into Sae’s mouth, he happily complies. He bends down briefly to hold Sae up against the wall, an impressive feat considering Sae is a fully grown man. Sae wraps his legs around Ryusei’s waist, and when Ryusei moves his lips to Sae’s neck, Sae moans obscenely before he can stop himself.
Ryusei laughs, clearly amused. “You better be quiet. You wouldn’t want anyone to come back here and see you like this, right?”
Ryusei punctuates his statement by reaching his hand up under Sae’s shirt, and when his cold hand meets Sae’s bare skin, Sae gasps.
“Let me take you home,” Ryusei says, with a smile like he could devour Sae right then and there.
Sae’s decision is instantaneous. Fuck Oliver.