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Fog hangs thick in the air, low light interrupted by the flash of lasers that have been hastily set up by the speakers. Bass pounds heavy in his chest, the music so loud it reverberates through the floor. People are crammed together so tight that it’s hard to move, heat rolling off bodies that sway in time to the beat.
Sweat slicks Flux’s shirt to his back. It’s unpleasant, pushing through the crowd of drunk people. But Flux himself has had more than enough to drink that he takes no notice of it. His shoes stick to the floor as he moves.
He finds Thomas eventually, crammed in by the wall. He’s standing close to another man, head bent low as they try to converse over all the noise. Thomas’ cheeks are flushed, nodding along to whatever is being said. Flux flicks his gaze over the other person, taking in the shock of white hair that looks an alarming amount like Saparata’s. Even the moles on his face are similar, but that’s where it ends. He’s not sure he’s ever seen him before.
Not caring that he’s about to interrupt, Flux places a heavy hand on Thomas’ shoulder, stepping close. The brunet whips around to face him so fast that it sends some of Flux’s drink sloshing over the edge. He’s too drunk to even realise.
Flux leans in, almost shouting to be heard over the music. “Have you seen Saps anywhere?”
“Saps?” Flux nods as Thomas scans the haze, lasers dancing across the room like lightening. “I haven’t seen him in a while, have you tried upstairs?”
Of course. Flux shoots him a thumbs up and pushes through the throng of people, drink clamped tight in his grip. It’s slow going, bodies crushed together as the dark room spins around him. It feels like he’s hardly making any progress but eventually he gets to the staircase. Trailing his hand along the wall for balance, he huffs when he stumbles and almost trips over an uneven step.
The music up here is muffled, lights brighter as he blinks to adjust. He steps through a group sat clogging up the hallway, laughing as they pass a joint around, plastic shot glasses empty and scattered around them. Flux continues on, winding his way through the maze-like corridors of the Westhelm Frat House. He’s been here enough times to know his way around by now.
Down the hall, the door to Saps’ room is pushed open. A corner of his Do Not Enter sign is peeling down from where it’s stuck crooked to the wood. Red fluorescents throw eerie light on the messy, unmade bed. There are books strewn across his desk and clothes have been haphazardly chucked onto the floor. Empty. Flux keeps going, the corridors warping weirdly in his drunken mind.
If Saps isn’t in his room, there’s only one other place he’d be.
The bathroom door is unlocked. A low hanging haze shrouds the room, soft green light emanating from the strip lights stuck under the mirror. The sickly sweet smell of weed laces the air. Flux reaches out with clumsy fingers to turn the lock after him.
Saps is there, draped in the bathtub like a figure from a painting. One knee is bent while the other leg is thrown over the edge of the bath, head tilted back as he takes a drag from the half burnt out joint dangling from his fingertips.
His head tips to the side, red rimmed gold eyes meeting purple as a lazy grin slides onto his face. “Flux!”
“Saps,” he steps closer, tunnel vision narrowing in on the person he’s been looking for. Saps flings a hand out, motioning for his red solo cup. “Careful, it’s not-“
It’s snatched from his grip before he can finish. Saps’ whole face twists when he takes a sip, a noise of disgust falling from pink lips. “That’s gross dude.”
Flux laughs, discarding it by the sink with numb fingers. “I tried to tell you.”
With as much grace as he can muster, Flux climbs into the bathtub, the room spinning wildly as he settles his knees either side of Saps narrow hips. It takes a moment for them both to get comfortable, limbs slipping against the porcelain as the muffled bass pulses through the floor. Broad palms come to rest at his waist.
Saps grins up at Flux, golden eyes an endless depth in the low light. Messy white hair falls across his forehead in waves, and this close up, Flux can see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. They only come out when Saps has spent hours outside, skin sun kissed and golden.
Time stands still as Flux places his hands on his chest, palms warming instantly through the monstrosity of the Hawaain shirt that Saps is wearing. Muscles shift under his touch. Saps’ heart beats a steady rhythm in his chest, a complete opposite to the blood rushing through Flux’s ears, their breathing loud in the quiet surrounding them.
The air between them is electric, alight with a magnetic energy that Flux has never felt before. Every breath is charged, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. Flux could get lost here for hours, staring at the man below him. Nothing else is real. The party downstairs long forgotten, hundreds of people nothing more than an after image. It’s like staring into a black hole, all consuming, endless. A gravity he can’t resist.
Glitter is smeared high across Saparata’s cheekbones, catching the light. It’s mesmerising. “You fell prey to Snowbird’s glitter I see.” The words feel thick in his mouth, clumsy. All he can focus on is the steady thumping of the heart beneath his hands. The room continues to spin, a dizzy pirouette in his peripherals.
“Mm, he held me hostage, refused to let me go until I looked like a knockoff disco ball,” his words slur slightly, eyes drooping softly as they flick over Flux’s face. They keep returning to one spot in particular. Flux breathes, electric sparks fizzing in his stomach. “Here, your eyeliner’s-“
Saps reaches out, the joint long forgotten by the side of the bath as he drags his thumb gently down the corner of Flux’s eye. His brow is furrowed slightly, the moles under his lower lashes stand out against the freckles. He smells overwhelmingly of spilt booze and aftershave. The mix of it makes Flux lightheaded. There’s black smudged against his finger when he pulls away.
Alcohol has made Flux’s tongue loose. He’s entirely lost track of how much he’s had, shot after shot pushed into his hands earlier in the night. There’s life surging beneath his palms and the heady presence of Saps in front of him, below him, makes the words spill out. “I think I’m in love with you.”
He doesn’t mean to say it, but how can he not when Saps looks like this, alcohol tinting his cheeks rosy. Messy, high, perfect.
Tension pools thick as Saps refocuses, red rimmed gold alert in a way they hadn’t been just moments before. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and Flux is enamoured. “Yeah?” It’s loose, teasing. Neither of them move.
Flux can do nothing except nod, a pounding in his chest, in his head as the quiet stretches, thick like taffy. Saps’ gaze flicks down again, frustratingly steady as the moment teeters on a knife’s edge.
It breaks.
Surging down, his hands curl into Saparata’s ugly Hawaiian shirt as their lips meet, hot and slightly clumsy against one another. Dry against soft, alcohol against weed. It’s messy and hungry, the sparks worming up through Flux’s chest leave a blazing trail of fire. His limbs tingle as a heavy palm drags up his back, fingers threading tight into his dark hair. The hand at his hip clenches. Flux deepens the kiss impossibly more, teeth grazing over Saps’ bottom lip just enough to pull a punched-out sound from his throat.
He moves down, pressing kisses along Saps’ pale neck, heart suddenly thundering under Flux’s hands like a drum roll. Teeth scrape unblemished skin; fingers tighten in his hair. Saps tips his head back, thunking lightly into the side of the bath. It makes Flux break for air, giggling in the electric atmosphere as Saps’ honeyed chuckle joins his. He’s drunk, so, so drunk, but nothing could ever make him forget this moment. It’ll be seared into his brain for the rest of time.
Swaying, Flux’s gaze roves over the man below him, lips kiss bitten and the column of his neck pinking already. Saparata’s chest is heaving, eyelashes low in a lusty gaze. Flux could get high off of this alone.
He’s beautiful like this, Flux thinks, as he leans back in, tracing feather light kisses across the jut of Saps’ exposed collar bone. His skin tastes of salt and something else, something uniquely Saps.
All of this feels inevitable, like every moment in their life has been leading them here. Every smile, every conversation, every hour spent in the others presence. Every look, every laugh, soaked through like a dream. Fate.
He makes quick work of the top few buttons of his shirt, lips never once leaving the sun kissed skin beneath him. Shirt pushed down, his hands roam over Saps’ bare chest, a shudder rolling through him. Flux feels like he’s going crazy, broad shoulders dense with muscle disappearing under his hands. It speaks of countless hours spent in the gym, so different to Flux’s own lithe form.
Saps shifts, back arching into the touch and Flux can’t look away. Saps is devastatingly undone, white strands falling into blown wide eyes. Black nearly eclipses the gold. They’re both breathing hard, nothing else exists outside of their little bubble.
“We should take this somewhere more comfortable than a bathtub,” Saps whispers.
Flux stares and stares and stares. It’s all he can do, vision fuzzy around the edges as blood surges through his ears. “I think you may be right.”
Their hearts beat in tandem, humming-bird quick.