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The hazy clouds of spiraling smoke billowed about the club in thick puffs. Blazing streams of deep crimson light stained with purple and pink hues gave the atmosphere a dream-like trance. The bar was full of patrons, as typical of a saturday night in chicago.
Multiple rainbow pride flags hung from the bar’s shelves, along with streams with hearts. It was recently celebrated being voted the best known secret gay speakeasy in the city. Despite the bar’s intense presence, the folk who visited were nothing but welcoming and kind.
Deep black curly hair was tucked behind a pair of ray bands, lifted by two fingers that purchased a cigarette. A particular figure with wide bell bottom jeans stitched with mushrooms had caught his eyes. Particularly the sequins sewn carfuling around the hems. An eyebrow quirked, Charles took a slow drag of his cigarette.
He watched with deeply lidded eyes as they immersed themselves in the music. Their face shone brightly in the dark, teeth gleaming in the light. With a smirk, he pushed the cigarette between his teeth and slid off the bar stool.
It’d been your first time back to a club since, -shit, a couple years maybe? It had been a busy couple of years that felt almost lifetimes ago. You were in need of a good drink. Nothing sounded better tonight than returning to your beloved bar to nurse an old fashion. A smile tugged harder on your lips at the prospect, cheeks burning a deep hue. Hey this was your favorite song, why not go buy a drink?
“Hey,” A voice course from years of smoking brought you from your thoughts. You whipped your head back to the stranger, nearly colliding with their face.
“Ah fuck sorry!” You hissed at your carelessness, reaching a pair of shimmering blue eyes with whispering eyelashes. Oh fuck- he’s fucking hot.
He snorted quickly, threading a hand through his curly locks. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, staring at you. “Wanna smoke?”
Ordinarily, you hated the sharp hit of a cigarette, but sharing one with him sounded enticing.
“I don’t even know your name,” You smirked, “how am I supposed to trust that isn’t laced?”
He was silent for a moment, then creased his eyebrows as he laughed.
“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, hmm?” The curly haired man sneered, leaning closer to you. Your head spun, feeling drunk off of the man’s presence alone.
“The name’s Ray.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes and shot a hand to his cigarette, though apparently you were too slow for his reflexes.
“Ah ta-ta-tah, how am I supposed to trust you now?” Charles gruffed with a smirk, jerking his chin up.
Your lips pressed into a thin line, eyebrows creasing.
This guy’s kinda an asshole.
“Bye weirdo.” You scoffed, turning on your heel, doc martens clicking as you walked.
The bar thankfully did have a seat open, emphasis on one seat. You called the bartender over, who took your order quickly and rushed back to their drinks. You sighed, absentmindedly picking at the paper napkin on the wooden table.
Men and their audacity.
Maybe you should’ve asked a friend to tag along, but it was a really last minute idea. Besides, you knew this bar was the safest in town. If your best friends frequent it, it must be alright. One word or hand sign to the barkeep and you’d be safer than anywhere else.
Your drink returned with a clink, and you were quick to offer a small thank you to the barkeep. Taking the glass to your lips, you allowed the sweet oak, caramel smell to fill your nose. A strip of an orange peel and a deep red cherry (not the maraschino oversweet cherry, it was nasty in your opinion) skimmed the alcohol’s surface. The small ice cube clinked as you brought the liquid to your lips, and took a small sip. It warmed your throat, trickling down to your belly. Your lips held a soft smile, posture relaxing as you comfortably spread your legs.
A paper roll tapped your wrist, tumbling onto the table.
“I was bein’ a cunt,” Chuck’s voice was smaller by your shoulder, and you almost didn’t recognize it as the man who spoke to you before. “I promise it’s not fuckin’ laced with shit. Y’know y’gotta have fuckin’ money to afford that shit, and I sure has hell ain’t got it.”
It was a peace sign. A treaty of sorts. You grabbed the olive branch cigarette, pushing it between your lips.
“Let’s smoke outside, I’m overstimulated here.” You huffed, slipping from the stool. Without waiting to see if he would follow, you strode to the door, pushing the metal bar. Sharp cold wind bit your face, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
“Christ-” A voice spat, hissing. The door was pushed open wider, Charles’ arm above your own. While you were basically at the same height as him, the door was on a stoop, resulting in his height advantage.
You pushed yourself against the cold brick wall, only your thick coat to protect you from its surface. The bitter cold and silence were nice. The wind whipped around the buildings, snow collecting in small corners and atop trash cans.
Chucky slid a lighter into your palm. You jutted your chin to him as a thank you, flicking the lighter. It refused to produce a steady stream of fire, and you groaned in annoyance.
“C’mon motherfucker,” You hissed through the stem of the cigarette.
Ray’s calloused hands circled the lighter, creating a small alcove away from the wind.
You mumbled a thank you once the spit of fire stayed, eyes sparking to his own. He stared only at the flame.
The paper wrinkled and burned once the lighter met the butt of the cigarette. You drew in a slow breath, only holding a moment before releasing a stream of curling smoke. Your eyes fluttered closed as your throat burned. It would scrap at your throat when you would take a breath in, clawing to free itself.
Jeez you hated smoking.
You drew it back to your lips, taking another draw before handing it to Ray.
He took it without a word, drawing it to his own lips, taking a long drag.
The two men leaned against the brick wall, snow crunching under their feet. The only sound being their breathing and the sharp winter wind. The silence was pleasant, and you found yourself enjoying his company. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, passing the cigarette between you two, but soon it was out.
A finger met your chin, softly drawing your face to your smoking buddy’s…