Archive of Our Own

Ever since his little brother had grown up, Saparata rarely listened to his ideas anymore. 

So, right now, he had no one to blame but his own stupid self. But then again, it was the end of the school year, and he’d just survived one of the most stressful weeks of his life—barraged by exams and tests checking his smarts one after another. 

He deserved to cut loose a little, right? 

It would’ve been all well and good if the wind hadn’t been howling so damn hard. It was early June, for crying out loud! He felt like he was setting off for the Cold War deep in Siberia, not heading to a local club just around the corner. 

He’d had to go back for his jacket; the moment he stepped out of his dorm and into the stairwell, he’d reconsidered his life choices—his freezing ass had decided it wasn't having any of that. 

Streetlights were slowly flickering to life; the last rays and streaks of red in the sky still peeked out between the rooftops, the moon was edging onto the horizon, and solitary stars were waking from their slumber starting to decorate the moody dark sky. 

Saparata adjusted his denim jacket that just screamed cool over his shoulders and pulled it tighter across his chest, keeping his head down to at least put up a fight against that fucked-up wind. 

He could feel strands of hair whipping wildly, exposing his forehead, single strays finding their way to whip his face. So much for spending ten minutes styling it with gel and whatever else he’d found (stole) from Schpood’s vanity.

Saps started cursing himself for agreeing to Micro’s idea. 

He crossed the campus grounds; just another 400 meters and he’d be there. In a moment, he’d be drinking vodka or beer—or whatever they were serving—forgetting all this stress, switching off his brain, and having a great time with his brother or maybe he’d make a new friend and have a blast. 

Anything was good, especially after having his brain drained off by those fucks ass exams. Is he sure he passed them? Absolutely, Saparata was everything but a F’s scoring whack. 

The sound of the slowly waking up after a long day city echoed through the streets, soft thuds of empty plastic bottles flying around the corners, distant murmurs of people that he would never get to know, not that it was something that bothered him, and the overall atmosphere. 

MAN was it great as never. 

“Yo, kid, come ‘ere for a sec.” A man’s voice drifted over from the local shop, very distant as if he were far further than he really was. Saparata automatically turned his gaze toward the guy, slowing his pace unconsciously as the drunken man shifted his weight to lean over the shop wall.

Mistake number one - you never stop when some stranger calls out to you after dark. 

The man could barely stay on his feet; he swayed back and forth, his torso tipping forward, nearly sending him sprawling and had to catch himself against the wall behind him to avoid inflicting a stupid, self-inflicted injury all WHILE clutching a mostly empty beer bottle, one that looked like it was about to slip right out of his grasp but he did not budge, gripping it as it was the dearest thing to him in his entire life. Which probably was. 

Honestly, Saparata was shocked the guy had even spotted him, considering he could barely lift his head. 

“Kid some cents, you’ve got sum?” The local drunk head squeaked, shaking his head violently to shape it back into hollow reality, absurd hiccup quickly following his voice, it practically sent his body back. 

Saparata blinked. 

Nope. 

He sighed and putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket, quickened his pace just as the guy started swaying so violently he looked ready to puke—the perfect distraction to let him get the hell out of there. 

But who is he to lie to himself? In a few hours, he’d probably be joining the guy, both of them swaying and barely standing—if the drunk could even stay upright at all by then, given how hard he’d clearly been “partying”. 

Passing a few closed stores and getting away from that freak guy that managed to yell out some insult after him, he finally spotted the blue light of the clubsign slowly emerging ahead of him. 

A small group of no names stood outside the building, smoking cigarettes or joints and laughing among themselves, passing their sacred rolls up between each other. Saparata instantly realized they were likely from his campus, they looked to be roughly his age and one of them wore the basketball team jacket. 

He adjusted his posture, straightening up slightly and trying to tame his hair, which was putting up a stubborn fight against the wind that was still blowing like crazy. He swept his gaze over them, quickly checking if he recognized anyone, and to his surprise, he did. 

Gotoga was standing in their midst, wearing his signature blue hoodie and pink scarf; he was leaning against the wall of the building, putting his own cigar up to his lips, slowly taking a soft blow.

“Yo.” Saparata nodded in his direction; two guys who had their backs to him turned around, glancing over their shoulders. It took Gotoga a long second to realize someone was speaking to him; he turned his head lazily toward the guy, squinting as he looked him over. Only then did the gears in his brain finally click.

“My boy!” he exclaimed with a wide grin, pulling his hand away from his face—gray heavy smoke left from his mouth along with the words. 

Gotoga leaned slightly off the wall, extended his free hand, and dapped Saparata. The rest of his crew eyed the interaction critically, though most of them probably didn't even know they were alive at that moment, so Saparata didn't find himself caring about them. 

“Good to see you. Finally touching grass, huh?” Gotoga said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and chuckling softly. Saparata shoved his hands back in his pockets and rolled his eyes, smiling at the guy’s comment. 

Don't try to judge him based on that—he actually had a future and at least kept his ass indoors to study instead of wasting his life doing whatever else, for example like these dudes.

“Yeah, yeah—meanwhile, you can’t seem to tear yourself away from it, can you?” 

Gotoga gasped dramatically, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips as he mocked and mimicked Saparata’s expression, before taking a slow draw as the heavy cigarette smoke hit his lungs before he blew it out and spoke.

“So, tell me, what are you doing here, huh?” Gotoga asked, sidestepping over his friend and leaning against the wall next to Saparata, his gaze sweeping over him from head to toe, likely mentally sizing up his outfit. “Saps and clubs, that's unusual.”

“You say that like I don’t have a life.” Saparata raised his eyebrows, already tired out by Gotoga’s words as he watched the man eye him up and down. Look - he did go out every now and then! He's not some fuck ass nerd. At least not all the time. “Micro pulled me out.” 

Gotoga blinked.

“Micro?? Ohhhhhhh, Micro—yeah, I saw his spiky mop of hair.” Gotoga drawled the syllables while nodding, shoving one hand into the pocket of his hoodie. Saparata glanced toward the boy's group and sensed that every single one of them was very clearly wondering, treating it like a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes, just who he was and why Gotoga was talking to him. 

“Bro they are all gooneee. Idk what they smoked but holy–” Gotoga laughed, heavy gray smoke leaving traces in the air as he huffed out, waving his hand lazily to get rid of it.

Oh my fucking god Micro. It was obvious, after all what else would his brother be doing in a place like that but tending to that business of his, the very thing Saparata was waiting for him to get busted for? Fucking idiot. 

Saparata only closed his eyes for an elongated second, preparing mentally for the state he might find his brother in and let out a tired sigh.

The older boy shifted his hand, leaning it slightly closer to Saps, gesturing for him to take a draw but Saps only waved it off, and so Gotoga waited no time to pull it right back. Smoking wasn't his type of thing, and besides it all, he hadn’t really planned on chatting with the guy for long anyway, and he was starting to feel the cold so.

He clicked his tongue and shifted his gaze slowly back to the boy's friends, glancing over them all before looking right back. Gotoga seemed to catch on immediately, (surprisingly fast, actually) glancing sideways at his friends to follow Saparata’s line of sight before giving a knowing blink of an eye. He straightened his shoulders and pulled his hand out of the jacket.

“Alright, I’m off.” Saparata clapped him on the shoulder, nodding to the other gathered NPCs who were still standing there silently like meerkats and then, as the guy waved goodbye, he stepped inside the club. 

The stuffy air inside hit him almost instantly, making him want to turn right back around for a split second. Red-orange lights filled the main room, while the slightly off-putting scent of sweat mixed with alcohol and the poorly concealed smell of weed being smoked in a corner fully rounded out the place’s atmosphere. Loud music blasted right away, dull thuds hitting his train of thought and pulling him into the ongoing party daze.

There were far more people than he had originally expected, though that was hardly surprising, everyone was celebrating the end of the exam period. Since it was one of the clubs closest to campus, the entire building had turned into one massive gathering—and a recipe for a disaster in the making, dozens of twenty-somethings, unlimited access to alcohol, and a crowd where everyone knew everyone else. 

God, why was his brother here?

Pushing his way through a few small groups of people who had no concept of making way for others, he finally slid the sleeves of his jacket down and took it off, draping it over his arm. 

Seriously, did no one here know about open windows or air conditioning?! It was getting ridiculous. He’d already been shouldered and not just once, but twice.

Saparata quickly ran a hand through his hair to tame it, scanning the crowd for Micro’s familiar shock of his own white hair. The guy was like a walking landmark, especially when he was with his friends; you’d have to try pretty hard not to notice them. And as if on cue, he'd barely gotten close to the bar when he heard a chorus of stupid snickering and guys shouting over one another. 

“Yo, Micro,” Saparata called out, trying to make his voice heard over the pounding music that was blasting right next to his ear. The boy, unsurprisingly, didn't seem to catch it and so he stepped closer, tapping him on the shoulder. 

Micro and his crew were sitting on the high stools; Planter was spinning around on one of them, head held high and eyes closed, he was practically in his own world while Banana, Neptune, and Micro leaned against the bar, sipping beer and spouting bullshit about something Saparata probably didn't want to hear. 

It was quite obvious what the topic was to be honest.

Micro glanced over his shoulder, already raising an eyebrow in question at the sudden touch, but his snarky expression vanished the moment his eyes landed on his brother. 

“Saps! Man, you actually showed up.” The younger boy immediately threw his arm around his shoulders, pulling Saps closer—forcing him to steady himself against the seat Micro was occupying just to keep from stumbling forward.

Saps’s younger brother’s friends greeted him immediately with quick dabs up, it took only Planter a moment to realize who had arrived, snapping him out of the trance of spinning around in his chair. 

“Miracles do happen,” Saps grumbled, shaking off his brother’s arm and stepping up to join the group.

“Still a bit of time until Christmas,” Banana joked, leaning back slightly in his seat forgetting it had no backrest and nearly giving himself a heart attack. Thanks God for Neptune who quickly stepped in to steady him by the back. “Holy fuck, I almost died.” 

“Died of stupidity, shithead” Micro rolled his eyes in embarrassment, shooting the boy a look of exasperation before turning his gaze to Saparata, who had just smacked him on the head. “OW bro—” 

“Watch it, or I’ll tell mom you’re swearing,” Saparata hissed, wagging a finger at him; the younger boy’s expression twisted into a look of quiet dismay that quickly shifted into indifference. 

Micro clutched his head and rubbed the spot where he’d been hit, groaning softly in pain. “Mom disowned me ages ago.” 

“In your dreams, smartass.” Saparata shook his head, grimacing. God, his brother was really going to the dogs, and there was nothing he could do about it—the kid had learned to talk back and discovered what it meant not to give a shit about anything. Jesus, save him from this torment. 

“Alright, ladiesss…” Planter drawled, stretching out every single word in a highly irritating way as he shifted into a more animated posture in his seat. “Less bullshit, more love.” 

The guy was clearly on another planet.

Saparata just clutched his head, deciding that for the sake of his own sanity, he wouldn't even ask what the kid had taken. Seriously, teenagers these days are on another level. (Dude, shut yo crap, you’re only a 17 seconds older year older yo)

Banana threw his arms around the guy’s neck and started nodding vaguely, a bleary smile spreading across his face; then, the two of them began swaying to the music, which had just shifted into something even more bizarre. 

“I swear, they’re only like this tonight,” Micro said, raising his hands defensively the moment he noticed the change in Saparata’s expression as he had shifted his weight from one leg to the other, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Neptune was already next to them, hooking his own arm around Planter and started to swing with them, eyes closed and wide smirk adorning his face.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Saps waved a hand, repositioning himself to his brother’s left; setting his denim jacket on the counter and glancing at the scene unfolding behind it, shifting the noises coming from the three boys into a distant murmur.

Dozens of glass bottles shimmered in the overhead lights, the sole number of them could drunken up an entire army of freaking russian soldiers and still be left behind in massive quantities. Drinks were passed from hand to hand, the sound of pouring liqueurs and spirits mingled with the bar’s ambient noise—all of it blending into a massive, orchestrated chaos. His gaze darted between the vodkas and whiskies, the Scotch one catching his eye, but did he really feel like nursing a drink?

His friends were already long gone—high as kites—while only his brother, by some miracle, was still holding it together and staying relatively steady. 

But to be honest, he might as well join the fray. Why play the sensible, responsible one? It was the end of the fucking year, after all! He’d passed his exams, the only thing left to worry about was getting his shirt ironed properly for the graduation ceremony so Jophiel wouldn’t chew him out for looking like he’d been dragged out of a dog’s throat.

He leaned his elbows on the cold wooden edge, scanning the room for the bartender—who was quickly found by his eyes, currently bent low, pulling a bottle of rum from below to fill an order for some kid who clumsily was trying to impress a girl who had clearly stopped giving a shit about him minutes ago. 

He rolled his eyes and shifted them back towards the rich stash, biting the inside of his cheek as he found himself seriously considering the options laid before him on a silver plate. 

God damnit, ah decisions, decisions. 

But the longer he spent staring blankly, wondering, the more of a moron he felt like. 

Seriously, was he really going to drink vodka and soda again? Sure, it was a recipe for a quick buzz if you downed a few shots in a row, but where was the flavor in that?

Saps clicked his tongue in annoyance, furrowing his brows. He glanced wearily at the rum-ordering kid once more for no particular reason other than to have something to look at, and (okay, there was a reason) out of curiosity to see if he’d scored with the girl. 

But man, how quickly he regretted his life choices and the fact that he’d come here at all. 

Instead of his eyes landing on what he initially wanted, they shifted as if bewitched on a guy standing close to them, chatting with someone Saparata felt like he knew but that was not what interested him for the moment.

A tight black T-shirt with sleeves ending at the biceps; the collar unbuttoned low enough to reveal a bit of skin at the neck—subtle, yet instantly noticed by him; a pair of loose, dark navy jeans worn low, hooked on the hips with a black leather belt, heavy Doc Martens and those glasses perched on the bridge of his nose slovenly, yet deliberately styled. 

Just how much he dreamed of never seeing that guy ever again. 

Fluixon. 

He instantly snapped his gaze away, turning his entire bulk toward Micro, who seemed to have already forgotten he existed. The heels of his heavy boots creaked softly against the wooden floor under his weight, he didn't even realize when he grabbed his jacket and pulled it closer, clutching the fabric against his chest like a teddy bear serving as emotional support, his fingernails digging into the rough material.

Saparata clenched his jaw, suddenly, everything else became far more interesting—and far more intense. Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of how his plain grey T-shirt laid against his body, how his jeans bunched around his feet, or, fuck, how a single stray hair was falling onto his forehead, tickling him annoyingly. 

No, really—he didn't need HIM in his vicinity right now. It didn't matter a damn that the guy was standing at least six or seven meters away and hadn't even noticed him yet; FUCK, HE WAS RIGHT THERE, IN HIS SPACE!

“Breathe, for fuck’s sake—what’s wrong with you?” Micro’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the guy glanced back at him appraisingly just as he felt a rush of hot breath against his own back. 

“Flux.” 

Micro blinked but that was all it took, his eyes went wide before bursting into manic laughter. The boy grabbed Saparata’s shoulders to steady himself and keep from tumbling off the seat, his shoulders shook with every peal of laughter, and Saparata felt like he was about to melt from a mix of embarrassment and rage. 

“Micro, fuck,” he whispered, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut so tightly a wave of pain shot through his head. He covered his face with his hands, trying to hold back the string of curses hovering on the tip of his tongue. 

Why, seriously, why—did life have to shove its past mistakes right in his face at the exact moment he needed that the least? 

That one night stand would truly haunt him for the rest of his life, a night where, even now, he didn't quite know how it had happened: winding up with the very guy who had caused his current nervous breakdown, in a situation that was, well, more or less controlled. 

Oh how he hated his drunken mind for forgetting this shit. 

Literally the next day, when he woke up in his bed, all the memories came flooding back instantly. Every movement of a hand, the gentle brush of fingers against his skin, the contact, and how quickly everything escalated into something Saparata deeply regrets. 

That’s when a string of curses just blurted out of his mouth, and Schpood had smacked him on the head, telling him to shut his crap because it was six in the morning. 

Would it have been logical to contact Fluixon after that and talk the whole thing over? 

Yes. Any sane, self-respecting man would have done just that. 

But was Saparata that kind of man? Well, at one point in his life he’d considered himself one, but after he pussied out and started to ignore the guy, he didn't anymore.

How on earth did they end up together? 

Only god knew the answer, and he was too bitter to dare to share it. None of his friends could help him either, and the worst part was that he remembered the whole ordeal as if it had happened yesterday— except for the moment from when it actually began. 

Micro patted him on the shoulder, leaning back once he’d finally calmed his emotions and stopped laughing. His smile widening into a massive grin that made his cheeks bunch up into those soft mounds, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Man, I'm telling you, it's destiny.” 

“Micro, you are NOT helping!” Saparata cried out, hissing through gritted teeth, uncovering his face, he could still feel a couple of tears welling up from sheer frustration, his tone just fuming with anger.

Man get him out of there before he kills someone or himself FUCKKKKKKK

Well, the salvation arrived very quickly, in the form of the bartender, who Saparata catched sight of out of the corner of his eye, and wasted no time, immediately breaking free from his brother’s embrace to face his way. The man didn't even have time to adjust his rolled-up sleeves or offer a proper greeting before he was cut off. 

“Something strong and fast-acting,” Saparata blurted out, staring at the man as if he were destiny itself and the last glimmer of light at the end of a tunnel. 

He wasn't going to fuck around with this tango, he didn't even want to be part of it. If something would just wipe him off the face of the earth, he’d kiss that thing’s feet. 

Seriously. Like no cap at all.

The bartender’s expression shifted slightly as he squinted to focus on Saparata’s  features. “Base spirit?” he asked. 

“It doesn’t matter, high-proof spirit or whatever you’ve got. A mixed drink is fine,” Saparata replied quickly, aiming to put an immediate end to the man’s questioning. Every single second was precious to him, he couldn’t afford to have his fate hanging in the balance for heaven's sake.

The dark-haired man was left speechless, his mouth hanging slightly open; yet, perhaps too accustomed to such situations, he simply nodded and reached for a glass. 

With a deft, practiced motion, he poured in some polish rectified spirit, diluting it with water to lower the proof, and added cherry juice for a smoother, more pleasant taste. He slid the glass toward the young man, raising an eyebrow in uncertainty, wondering if he’d served something too strong given the lad’s youthful appearance but if a guy asks for something strong, he should expect the real deal, not some weak concoction for a wimp. 

And who was Saparata? Well definitely not a wimp because he didn't bother to hesitate, his long fingers wrapped around the glass, and he downed the shot in one go. 

Ohhh fatal mistake.

"Holy fuck–" was all he managed to whisper before a fit of coughing doubled him over. The sharp, burning taste slid down his throat like it was on a slide, hitting his stomach and leaving a tart, searing sensation in its wake. He felt a tingling at the tip of his tongue that quickly flared into another wave of heat. 

The bartender stood behind the counter, watching him for a few seconds and waiting for a sign that he might need help; but despite the coughing, Saparata raised his hand and gave a thumbs-up to show he was okay. 

"The customer is the king," the man said, his voice carrying a hint of a smile and amusement, as he crossed arms over his chest loosely. 

The soft thud of the music echoed throughout the whole place, pushing around the crowd of people and countless glass bottles, shooting waves into everyone's brains and feet.

A few more hollow, raspy coughs escaped his lips before he leaned back and slammed his palm onto the counter, blinking a few times to get his brain back in gear. The burning sensation subsided fairly quickly, aided by desperate, repeated swallows. “Two more, please.” 

“You sure?” the bartender asked, grabbing the neck of the liquor bottle and pulling the now-empty shot glass that had been drained moments ago by the Saps, closer to himself. 

“Damn right.” Saparata stretched his neck to loosen it up, feeling the tension from that sudden jolt of stress begin to cause a dull ache there. 

The last thing on his mind was how drunk he’d be when he left the building. If Fluixon was here too, he just hoped the guy wouldn't be sober enough to remember him. There was no way he could face him; up until now, whenever he spotted him in the college hallways or dorm grounds, he’d dodged him like a well-trained FBI agent or a deadbeat dad ducking child support payments. He’d been doing so damn well—the bartender slid him another drink, which he downed in one go, shuddering again at its potency—at avoiding the man for four months. 

And now, at the end of the year just when the perfect moment had arrived to put some serious distance between them he runs into him here, in a place where they’re practically forced to be in each other’s orbit, whether Saparata liked it or not. 

Someone fuck his chungus life. 

He clutched his head and leaned his elbow on the counter, tho the surface was too slick to offer a proper grip, causing his hand to slide forward, and so he abandoned the idea and sat on one of the empty chairs, gripping the edge of the seat between his legs. Micro patted him on the back, taking a swig of his beer, and then draped his arm around his neck.

“It’s all good, he hasn’t spotted you yet,” he said, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder and staring along with him into the vast emptiness of the fresh shot glass the bartender had already lined up for him.

The man had already moved away before Saparata could ask for another even though he hadn't yet swallowed the last one just as a girl approached the bar with her friends and started ordering a round of shots for the group.

Micro jerked his head in their direction, catching Saparata’s attention. “Why don’t you go talk to them?”

“Don’t you go trying to set me up on a date.” Saparata shrugged him off; the other guy groaned in disappointment and leaned against the bar, staring at him with a furrowed brow.

“So what? You’re just going to lie there and have a mental breakdown?"

“Exactly.”

“Jeez, you’re such a wuss,” Micro grumbled, rolling his eyes so hard it looked almost painful.

He slapped him on the back, and before Saparata could retaliate, the younger guy hopped off his seat and ducked behind his friends—who were still deeply engrossed in singing along to Lady Gaga, each of them belting out a different verse of Judas. 

Saparata ran a hand over his face, channeling his irritation into the shot glass, quickly raising it to his lips and downing the contents in one go. This time, a shiver ran through his entire body, and the alcohol seemed to catch in his throat for a moment before finally sliding down. 

"Fuck's sake," he hissed, closing his eyes and weeping inwardly. He was supposed to be having a damn good time! He was meant to relax, get wasted, and forget about the stress. 

His eyes bounced towards his brother, who actually was having the time of his life, now steering his friends towards the crowd, all still swinging together held by each other arms until they all disappeared within the crowd.

What the hell was this? No—maybe he really should just hit the dance floor and lose himself in it? Look for a friend, or just find someone completely new and spend the rest of the evening with them... or actually, just crash a random group and pretend they all knew each other. 

Somewhere in the background, the yells of two girls who had started pulling each other's hair while their boyfriends tried to pry them apart briefly distracted Saparata and the people standing near him; however, the commotion quickly faded into the general din of the room, becoming nothing more than meaningless noise. 

Especially since a bouncer was already pushing through the crowd to reach them, as one of the girls had just taken a punch to the jaw. 

“They’re kind of crazy.” Someone approached him from the side; a quiet yet thick voice cut through his reverie. Saparata nodded, setting his glass back on the counter with a faint click and slid it away from himself,  slowly turning his gaze toward the young man next to him.

FUCK.

Fluixon leaned one hand against the ledge beside him, physically closing the gap between them while resting the other loosely on his hip, his fingers gently gripping the fabric of his jeans. His head was turned toward the crowd, seemingly paying Saparata no mind at all.

He stood there so casually, as if he hadn't a care in the world. 

Saparata felt a sudden surge of stress rush through his body, his breath catching in his lungs. His eyes widened as he stared in disbelief at the boy’s slim figure. Why could he feel warmth radiating from him? Or perhaps it had simply grown stiflingly hot in there all of a sudden. 

“How have you been?” he asked, turning his head toward Saparata, dark strands of hair fell across his pale face, framing it like a portrait. 

Saparata blinked, his mouth slightly parted in shock, he couldn't believe what was happening. Was he dreaming? Was this some sort of nightmare he’d never encountered before? 

When had Fluixon noticed him? Just moments ago, he had seemed deeply engrossed in conversation, yet now he was standing right beside him, watching him closely. 

“You alright? You’ve gone pale,” Fluixon said, his warm voice sounding surprisingly genuine and concerned about his well-being. 

Saparata shook himself out of it, staring at him for one more long second before coughing into his hand. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” 

He felt cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck, individual droplets leaving an unpleasant sensation on his skin. The taller man was watching him, deep in thought, his gaze locked intently on Saparata’s own. 

For a moment, Saparata thought Flux was challenging him to a staring contest, but the guy just nodded and turned toward the bar, his waist moving fluidly with the turn and Saparata realized, for some reason, that he had been unconsciously staring at the other man’s chest. 

The same bartender who had served him a moment ago walked over, wiping a glass with a cloth while quickly sizing up the two of them standing there together. 

Fuck—the guy had probably heard him whining to Micro. God, please let him not realize that the guy next to him was the one he’d been talking about. 

“What can I get you?” he asked, setting the glass down, draping the cloth over his broad shoulders, and resting both hands on the edge of the counter as he waited for an answer. 

Saparata was panicking on the inside, but outwardly he tried his best to control his expression and body language, maintaining the most serious poker face he could muster. 

“It’s on me, whiskey and Coke?” Fluixon asked, waiting for the man’s reply; Saparata merely nodded, any words he might have had stuck on his tongue. 

The dark-haired man leaned his hip swiftly against the high stool beside him, glancing toward Saparata before nodding to the man behind the bar, who leaned slightly closer in their direction. 

The bartender smiled faintly, quickly reaching for the liquor and preparing the order for both of them. 

Saparata bit the skin just beneath his lower lip, subtly trying to stem the rising tide of stress and something else he couldn't exactly pin point.

What was happening right now? 

Why had Fluixon—out of the blue—walked up to him and suddenly offered to buy him drinks? 

Wait, why not just ask, god damnit?

“What’s the occasion?” Saparata asked, crossing his legs; his voice dropped to a low, quiet tone, meant for just the two of them to hear over the club noises.

Fluixon turned his head slightly toward him but kept his gaze on the bartender, who was pouring the second glass; strands of dark hair fell softly over his striking, violet, tired eyes. 

Flux clicked his tongue softly and tilted his head to the side before finally looking straight at Saparata; his gaze swept over the other’s features gently—more gently than ever before. With his soft lips slightly parted, he raised his eyebrows a little and shrugged. “There’s none.”

Bitch.

Saparata grimaced in annoyance and sighed before reaching for the glass the bartender had quietly slid toward them; he wrapped his fingers around it and lifted it to his lips, he seriously had to swallow back the man's answer or else it would eat him alive.

Fluixon smiled softly—his eyes curving into two small crescents that gleamed in the reflected red light, perfectly framed by the glasses resting on his nose. For some reason, Saparata noticed this tiny detail immediately, and mentally cursed himself for it. 

The man reached for his own glass; his hands looked surprisingly large, with a few veins and long delicate fingers. Even without touching him, Saps was certain the skin would be incredibly smooth and soft. 

Wait. WHY WAS HE NOTICING THIS, FUCK. 

He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the sight before him and took a sip of his drink; his lips pressed gently against the rim of the glass as the cold alcohol slid down his throat. It was actually far tastier and more pleasant than anything he’d had before—at the very least, it didn't make him physically recoil. 

Yet, despite the internal struggle, he couldn't help but crack his eyes open just a bit to glance at his companion, specifically at the man’s neck. 

Unfortunately, Fluixon was already looking at him; his own glass of whiskey was pressed to his lips, and his sleepy eyes were fixed on him from above the rim. 

Saparata felt something in his lungs give a strange flop and his brain began to throb, while a dark pink flush instantly spread across the back of his neck and his cheekbones. He immediately looked away at something else—something neither important nor interesting—feeling embarrassed at having been caught.

“You’re watching me,” Fluixon said quietly, his tone bordering on a chuckle, before setting his whiskey down on the bar surface.

Oh, really? Fuck, I didn’t know that.

Saps took another swallow, deciding that the best defense right now was simply to completely ignore what the guy had said. In truth, he didn’t even know why he was watching him—why he was paying attention to all those little details. He never did that, especially not with someone he’d spoken to literally once. 

Maybe it was the alcohol? He’d already downed three strong shots, plus the whiskey; it was bound to be having some effect on him.

Fluixon murmured something under his breath with a smile, then tilted his head back to make a little room for Saparata. He gently traced the rim of his glass with a finger, drawing slow, steady circles. The dark hue of the drink shimmered in the light, with ice cubes floating on the surface, leaving wet drops on the glass. 

“How did the exams go for you?” Flux asked suddenly.

Saparata's eyes widened slightly, getting caught off guard. Such a simple question, yet it made his brain stall out for a second. 

He blinked, abandoning whatever he locked his eyes on before to wash them over Flux. “Good, I passed them”

“But we haven't received the results yet…?” Fluixon smiled, his tone dropping into a playful drawl as he narrowed his eyes.

Saparata rolled his eyes, tightening the grip he had over the glass. “I’m confident.”

Fluixon chuckled. Genuine soft laugh escaped his soft lips and he quickly covered them with his hand, eyes landing somewhere on the bar surface. 

Another wave of suspicious heat rushed through Sap’s chest and man did he not like it, at all. Seriously, that guy had some insane control over how his body reacted to him. 

“What, you don’t believe me?” Saparata protested, following quickly just as the soft sound made by the boy quieted down. 

Flux blinked, his grin didn’t back down though. “Oh, no, I do”

Ah this little scumbag. 

“Well, how did you do?” Saparata decided to flip the script, leaning slightly back in his seat.

“Finished all before the time, so I can assume that absolutely amazing.” He said swiftly, sounding over-confident, his voice still stuck in that annoying playful tone. 

Saparata huffed. “That means absolutely nothing.”

“Aww, are you jealous?” Flux teased, awfully concurring Saps attack as he took a swing of his drink. 

Oh how much Saparata started to despise him, his entire posture froze immediately at the sound of Flux smooth tone. He quickly followed up, taking a sip out of his own glass, the cold ice pressing gently over his lips as he did so. 

“Ah,” Fluixon hummed, clicking his tongue. “You’re much funnier to talk to than I originally thought.”

Saparata blinked, his brain becoming dizzy for a split second. Pardon me?

“What does that mean?” Saparata narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping an octave lower, fuming with clear offendance. 

Flux tilted his head, swinging the drink in his glass smoothly and watching as the ice cubes swirled with the movement. “Last time we barely did so. You’re fun.”

Another crazy flip in his chest and mind disturbed the stuck words in Sap’s throat. 

Just after a second something clicked in his brain. 

Did that mean that Flux actually remembered what had happened between the two of them before their make out?

That thought sent cold shivers through his entire body, leaving him slightly paralyzed, breath hitching in his throat. 

Oh this is bad. Like, seriously BAD.

That meant he had bigger control over him, and BOY did Saparata absolutely hated it.

He slowly drove his narrowed eyes over at Fluixon, who was already grinning widely and staring straight at him. Those deep violet eyes were working like a spell on him, long eyelashes framing them perfectly and only adding to their pretty-ness. 

“Well, you’re not.” Saparata shot back wearily, scoffing. 

Flux only chuckled, exactly the opposite of what Saps intended for his reaction to be. He pushed his glasses slightly higher, just enough to fit them over his nose bridge and turned his entire body to face Saparata. The material shifting over his chest, it was scary just how clearly the man’s muscles were visible under it. 

Finally, Fluixon breathed out, setting his whiskey glass with a soft thud back on the bar and pushed himself from the stool. “Alright, c’mon” 

Saps relaxed his frowned brows. “What?”

“If I’m no fun then let’s dance.” 

Saparata blinked, his brain stalling for a few long seconds as he started absolutely shocked, his black eyes widening, making them look like boba. 

Dance? 

But before he could react and fight against it, he felt that soft skin of Fluixon’s hand brush over his arm before grabbing him and pulling him out of the stool he was sitting on. Saparata only managed to set his drink back and throw his jacket away before getting lost with Flux in the crowd. 

The loud music pounded against his head, sending vibrations throughout his entire body and the fact that Flux was holding his hand, he felt the buzz from the man's body on his own too. God damn, his skin was seriously soft and smooth in touch, and horribly warm to add. Saparata felt the hot blush flash over his neck and cheekbones in an instant. 

Man, seriously, what even was happening? 

They maneuvered between the people, Fluixon swiftly steering them and pushing with his broad shoulder anyone who could have accidentally separated them. 

Saparata just let himself be dragged, to be honest getting lost in here–in the middle–would be a nightmare, especially if he wanted to get back to the bar somehow. 

Also, Flux seemed to know where he was heading so Saparata had nothing to say against it. 

Finally, Flux seemed to slow his pace down, finding a small clearing for them and immediately turned his body towards Saparata, his hips swinging swiftly with the move as he pulled him closer to himself. 

His hands flowed right over his body, one swinging right over his waist, the other wandering right over the side of his torso, hot waves pulsed throughout Saparata's entire body, feeling the warm heat radiating from the man's touch and other people that shifted around them. 

God, he would never be able to tell that someone like Flux actually knew what he was doing during moments like these, especially that every time he saw that guy in the college building, his ass was sitting with a notebook of some sort and browsing through it or overall seemed pretty boring. 

But right now? He was leading HIM through it all, letting them swing their bodies together in sync, his hands gently resting over him, keeping that smug smile without dropping it even for a split second. 

Holy fuck was that doing wonders to Saps mind.

He let his own hands wander to the man’s muscled shoulders, gripping the material over there, his nails digging slightly into it which only deepened the grin on Flux’s face, making him squint his eyes only to lock them on Saps’s. 

People were moving around them like a hoard of some sort, their own bodies brushing over theirs, nobody seemed to care about anybody over there, all in their own perfect flow that made Saparata feel at ease. Knowing that someone he knew could watch him somewhere seriously gave him a shot of stress but every time such thought came back, Flux somehow seemed to sense it and only steer his movement into slightly more energetic, pushing them all back to hell. 

As the song smoothly changed into a more slow yet highly bassed one, Fluixon leaned closer to him, silk dark strands of hair falling over his eyes. 

“You move nicely” He whispered right into Saparata’s ear, voice dropping into a teasing smoky tone. His warm breath brushing over the skin there. 

Saparata felt tingles running down his back as he bit his lower lip, only glancing in Flux’s direction before grinning softly from the praise. 

Ah fuck, it was all the alcohol fault for the way he was reacting. A strong head was never one of his strong suits.

Flux pulled away, his glasses sitting nicely, catching one of the strands, which Saparata noticed immediately. He didn’t even know when his hand wandered to the man’s face, gently tucking the stuck hair away and right behind his ear. 

Fluixon’s eyes widened slightly, sparking in the lights as faint pink blush flashed over his cheeks. He licked his lips, soft chuckle escaping right away before swinging Saparata around. 

The white-haired boy didn’t even mind the sudden move, relying solely on how the boy guided his body. His feet seemed to already know and anticipate every move, planting firmly on the ground before allowing Fluixon’s hand to travel to his back. 

Fluixon’s open palm held his weight steady, while he moved his other hand with flawless precision to catch and interlace their fingers, gently tilting Saparata backward. His larger frame loomed over him for a few fleeting seconds, sleepy eyes gazing down before he straightened them both back up. 

With their hands joined and soft fingers resting against his back, that Saparata could practically feel them on his skin; they moved together with small steps, back and forth. 

Somewhere beside them some drunken pair swung their way through the crowd; one of the girls hands deep into the other's hair, both singing along to the music being played without a single care in the world.

Flux tightened the grip on the other man’s hand, pulling Saparata closer to himself, making him gasp in confusion. Saps steadied himself, without a notice digging his nails deeper into Fluixon's shoulders. 

“Ah fucking Cynikka” Flux hissed under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

Saparata blinked, shooting one more glance towards the two girls that were currently deep into some demonic tango, their smiles brighter with every passing second, hair flowing in the air with every move. 

“Cynikka? Your sister?” Saparata chuckled as he whispered back in Flux’s ear, leaning himself closer to the other's body. 

“Uh-huh” Saparata could feel Flux's shoulder tense up with his touch, though he did nothing other than scoff and let his eyes wander aimlessly over the crowd. 

Saparata only shot his head back, pure laughter leaving his lips, absolutely loving seeing Flux being so annoyed.

To be honest, the sight was not something Saps was surprised by. Unlike her brother, the younger girl was a well known trouble maker in their college, having a sharp tongue that feared no teacher, being able to do anything for those closest to her as well. Fuck, one time she broke some lad’s ankle just cuz he accidentally hit her friend with a ball. 

Though all the tuff images that were given to her, were made by people that really knew shit. 

Because holyshit if Saparata had to point to one person that made the club their second home and alcohol a holy drink - it would have been her without a second thought. 

It looked like today her victim was Cass, but to Saparata's surprise, the older girl actually seemed to absolutely love whatever was going on, actually adding more fuel to the fire. 

“Oh please, don't drag me down even more” Flux huffed, smiling softly as he watched Saparata's amused reaction. But the white-haired man ignored him completely, a wide grin spreading over his face. 

Well– fuck his chungus life for real, because Fluixon seemed to not be a fan of it. The open palm that was holding him by his back, suddenly shifted down and down until firmly resting right beside his hip, only the thumb slowly caressing the material that laid over his waist. 

Saparata's breath hitched in his throat, blush violently spreading across his face and he found himself biting his lower lip, nose crinkling in annoyance over the fact that the bigger man's plan worked. 

“You're such a little bitch” Saparata hissed. 

But opposite of Sap's expectations, Fluixon actually remained silent. His gaze narrowed,  violet eyes dropping into something far more deep, slightly even demanding, but as for some reason Saparata found himself wanting it, nothing had happened. 

The other only rested his hand there, now loosening the grip. He relaxed his eyes as well into their usual sleepy style and moved their bodies softly to the music, now himself ignoring Sap's comment. 

Saparata sighed, clicking his tongue in pure annoyance. 

Dammit if you are letting your eyes be so seductive, then do something, not just give hope, bastard. 

…

WAIT HOLY FUCK– 

Pardon everything and everyone. GIVE HOPE?

AW NAH– HELL NAH, HOLD YOUR HORSES

Saparata shook his head, swallowing hard as he repeated over and over the thoughts. What the fuck was he on? He bit the tip of his tongue, scared that he accidentally might say everything out loud, but as he nervously glanced in Fluixon direction to check if the other was watching him, he found the man actually leaving his eyes steadied on something next to them, something that was in fact a dude their age.

And for some reason, it annoyed Saps even more, fuck, like hell did it annoy him. Weird jealousy washed over his mind, and so he shifted the grip he had on the man's shoulder down onto his arm, instantly drawing his attention back to him.

“Hm?” Fluixon hummed, small grin tucking the corner of his lips as he raised his eyebrows at the man. Warm heat radiating from Saps hand over his bicep hit him like a spell. One that he absolutely enjoyed, because man was that his plan all along. “What's the matter bunny?” 

That question made Saparata completely pause. 

His stomach was doing backflips at this point, breath hitching in his throat, eyes dilating. The alcohol seemed to finally buzz entirely through his veins because now that nickname made him fight the urge to just pull the other closer and close the still existing gap between their lips until there was no space left. 

But his pride wouldn't let him, never. And his sane mind too, God damnit not again.

“You've stiffened up a bit, you're boring me." Saparata steered around the script that he quickly realized Flux tried to follow, voice dropping into low drawl. He would never let himself be played like that. 

And Fluixon seemed to take the bait he had cast for him, for he felt his muscles instantly tense up. His eyes dropped in silent shock, lips parted slightly, framing words left unspoken. He dug his fingers deeper into the material around Saparata’s hips, leaning his upper body closer to the man, now just absolutely over-shadowing him.

Saparata breathed out, a smug grin spreading across his face, proud of the reaction he caused. The sides shifted, now he had control over how Fluixon's body reacted and boy was that an amazing feeling. It ignited the flame that softly burned in his chest, sending satisfying buzz through his body. 

If Fluixon wanted to play a game, he was more than ready to play one, especially when, despite his ego screaming at him not too, he never felt better as now. 

Suddenly their pose shifted, Saparata felt once again getting himself be lowered down, his upper body steered to lean back. Fluixon frame hovered over him, his dark hair falling over his face, glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose, before finally stopping at the tip.

Just as Saparata wanted to whisper something to him, he felt that the material over his waist shifted and soon enough he found out why. Those soft fingers dug under his shirt, and Flux slowly dragged them across his skin, leaving an incredibly hot trail in their wake. 

Saparata closed his eyes for a split second, feeling his heart pounding right up against his throat, the surging pulses throbbing in his head. 

Fluixon leaned his body lower, his head quickly appearing right next to his, lips brushing over Sap's ear, catching themselves on his helix. “Boring?” Flux asked, his voice suddenly husky and challenging. 

Fuck.

Fine, so it was a war Saparata could never have won anyway. But the thing was, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, deep down he was damn well enjoying whatever was going on.

“Let's get another drink” He just said wearily, feeling the defeat. As Fluixon lips shifted into a grin, he rolled his eyes and let himself be backed back into standing positing. 

“Sure.” 

“Tequila shots, please” Fluixon leaned on his arms over the cold bar surface, staring right at the bartender that stood opposite of him. 

Saparata pushed the lonely strands of hair back right in their place, aimlessly dragging his eyes over the loud crowd that now jumped around, following the banging music that echoed from the speakers. 

Some people he knew catched on them, some he didn't as well. 

But now he realized, he didn't see Micro anywhere. His denim jacket as well, but that one probably had already been stolen. 

When it came to the boy, the last time he saw him was about twenty or thirty minutes ago, when he was drifting with his little group into the tight crowd—everyone lost in their own worlds, which seemed to merge as they sang along to Lady Gaga. 

Maybe they’d already left the club; his brother’s white hair was nowhere to be seen, like at all. To be honest, it was quite possible. 

If he doesn’t get a text from him by tomorrow morning, it probably meant they pulled something so stupid that they would be either lying low until then or already sitting in a police holding cell, and he would have to go pick him up. 

Both scenarios could absolutely be true and Saparata couldn't decide which one was worse. 

“Here” Fluixon slid one of the glasses towards him, the tequila shot smoothly making its way towards him, before stopping right beside him. Saparata glanced to his side, the bigger man just watched him, smug grin panting his drunken face. 

Pink blush sat at the top of his cheekbones, his down-turned eyes lazily sweeping over his leaned on the bar figure, strands of hair styled into something clumsily messy yet perfectly working together, the slightly revealing collar of his fitted black shirt. 

Saparata breathed out, already feeling the rush of adrenaline flow through him and so to distract his mind, he reached for the shot glass, eyes jumping from the liquid to the salt sprinkled right over the brim. 

When was the last time he had drunk those with someone? God it had been weeks, if not months. 

But before he could raise it up to his lips, as Fluixon had already been holding his as well, the dark-haired man reached over to grab the single piece of lemon that had been attached to the brim of Saps drink and slid it to hold between his two fingers. 

Saparata lips parted, instantly shooting the man a glance, absolutely confused on why the hell did he do that. “Huh?” 

“Let me hold that for you,” Flux said, eyes sparkling as completely amused by Saparata’s cute reaction. The boy only watched him for a longer second before smacking his lips, annoyed but too tired to comment. 

Flux just hummed, eyeing him up and down before raising his own shot up to his lips, swiftly licking the salt before swinging the tequila down his throat. 

Saparata felt that every passing second spent with the boy intensified the internal battle he was waging with himself; his desire for him growing, and everything he did only made matters worse.

The worst part of it all was the constant stare the man held over him, how when his tongue ran over the brim, his attention was locked on and only on Sap’s own gaze. 

He felt something do a weird flip in his chest, brain becoming dizzy before he shook it all out and copied the man’s action. 

He crinkled his nose as the tequila slid down his throat, feeling the slight burn of it. Fluixon’s hand appeared right in front of him, the slice of lemon held between his fingers for him to bite into it. 

And Saparata did so, obeying the silent request. 

Shit to not kid, the after taste was far more better than before, now balancing itself out. 

Flux’s intense gaze softened, before his shoulders started to shake with hushed laugh. He put the now sucked out lemon slice back into his own empty glass. “Another round?” 

“You’re going to make me drunk” Saparata whispered softly, leaning closer to Flux to fight against the loud track being buzzed out of the club speakers. He could feel his head getting slightly heavy, not enough for him to have troubles, but the feeling was definitely there. 

But after all–did he care? Nope. 

This was the best night of his life, fuck everything he might have said before. Spending the time with Fluixon was far more entertaining than anything, and honestly he found himself not caring in the slightest bit about what could have happened between them two back then. Maybe he wouldn’t even care if it happened again, because for now, he was getting lost in thoughts over everything the other man did. 

Fluixon chuckled, crossing arms over his broad chest as he stared at him up and down. “Alright,” he shrugged, now reaching for Sap’s shot glass and pushed both further down the bar so the bartender could take them away. 

Saparata blinked. Huh?

Wait– no he didn’t mean it like that. He wanted to drink, get him back his shots yo

He raised his hand faintly towards their direction, unable to decide now what he really wanted, his lips softly parted as he stole the taller man's glance to make sure his mind didn’t change or anything.

Fluixon just stood next to him, leaning with his hip over the stool, his jeans adjusting to his stance, fitting nicely around his body; arms still crossed over his chest. It all made him look quite bratty, and if it weren’t for what happened between the two of them, Saparata almost got the expression that there was no soft side for the man. 

He looked up at his face, but instead of being met with amusement or a wide grin spread over there, perhaps loving that he had taken away their shot glasses, he was met with a soft look. One that he certainly couldn't quite place exactly in any categories.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Saparata asked, his voice dropping lower as a small grin tucked the corners of his lips when he noticed the shift in the man’s face. 

Fluixon remained silent and for some reason it was incredibly loud. Suddenly everything that shifted around them made Saparata highly aware of the fact that they weren’t alone, that this was a club full of people their age. 

“You just look very pretty right now” Flux explained, his voice dropping into a raw and sincere tone, huffing out a warm breath before nervously scratching the nape of his neck.

Saparata blinked, his breath hitching in his throat.

His mind suffered an absolute horrid and catastrophic short circuit, having the words ring in his ears, the compliment finally landed right in his head. 

What?

His heart hammered against his ribs violently, rapid dark blush started to spread from his neck up to the cheekbones, leaving a fiery trail across his stiffened body.

This was dangerous. 

An absolutely dangerous situation, that Saparata found himself considering putting both of them in.

“Sorry, that just came out of nowhere” Flux chuckled, noticing how frustrated Saparata had become as his entire posture went rigid. His hands went back to rest loosely over his chest, fingers gripping the tight-fitted material over there. 

Saparata felt his breathing become more and more shallow, as he stared at the man in front of him, who started to act like nothing had left his mouth at all. The alcohol buzzed like a lightning through his veins, mixing itself into his bloodstream and maybe that was the reason for his reaction. 

Now every word spoken by the man sounded far more heavier and real than maybe they truly were. 

His dark round eyes stared at Fluixon’s violet ones that had shone in the bar lights. He suddenly felt completely empty, no appropriate to the situation words coming onto his tongue. 

It felt suffocating.

Fluixon tilted his head, his soft and weary expression changing into scared curiosity, as he shifted slightly against the stool, eyes flicking on Sap’s face up and down. His usual cocky and confident stance seemed to vanish though with every passing second that the smaller man stayed silent, energy almost as if draining out of him.  

Did he only say that to him because it felt like a moment perfect for such confessions or was that seriously something that was running wild on his mind?

Oh but did Saparata even care much about that?

He shifted his eyes on something that stood somewhere to his side, feeling that the more he looked at Flux, the worse his need grew. 

God, how bad he wanted to lunge at him and just drag the man to somewhere where they could be alone. 

But then something stirred in his mind. 

How bad could it actually end? If he did so?

They were both pretty drunk, for him, it was a fact he seemed to have fully come to terms with. As for Fluixon, considering he had been at the club much longer, and judging by the look in his eyes and his general demeanor it was evident that he likely had just as much alcohol in his system as him. 

He weakly smacked his lips, the sudden wave of thoughts starting to annoy him. 

Seriously– one thing that was absolutely certain for Saparata was that today he definitely didn’t want to think. At least not to over-think anything. Just pure relaxation. 

He already did get drunk, one thing checked. 

Had a good time, this one half checked because of an obvious reason. 

Not over-think, not checked. 

Fuck his chud’s life, perhaps the situation from 4 months ago was about to repeat itself. 

He glanced in Fluixon’s direction, and seeing the man’s slouched forward shoulders actually made him feel bad. He stood there, right in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, biting his lower lip as he stared blankly at something, dark pink flush lingering over his cheeks.

Sudden rush of confidence washed over Saparata’s mind, putting on that smug grin he jumped swiftly from the stool, that automatically drawing Flux’s attention to himself and before the man could say anything, he brushed his fingers over his collar, making sure to grasp the skin under it too and walked towards one of the many corridors that were in the building. 

He could feel waves of heat rushing through his brain, the reality and heaviness of the situation he just invited the man to, slowly sinking in. 

Despite the ongoing party and loud music, he sensed that Flux was following him. Trailing behind his back between the many people they passed until an empty corridor appeared before them. Moody blue fluorescent lights washed the entire space, only adding to the atmosphere, making it look incredibly cinematic.  A few doors here and there, but no one in sight to disturb them. 

Saparata closed his eyes for a split second, alcohol hitting his skull and bringing him back to reality but before any common sense could get through to him, he shifted his body toward the boy with a fluid, graceful motion. 

He wanted to look into those eyes—at once infectiously seductive and soft—for just a moment longer before doing anything.

Yet it all instantly ceased to matter, for Flux beat him to the move, smashing their lips  together in a kiss devoid of caution or tenderness, driven only by raw need and possessiveness. 

Saparata let out a heavy but short gasp against the man’s mouth, feeling his brain doing a short circuit before truly realizing what was happening. 

He could never waste such an opportunity, not when that was the main thing occupying his mind for the past 30 minutes. He leaned into it, the sudden fraction making Flux’s lips turn into a soft smile.

Oh how good it felt being able to taste that smile.

Fluixon pushed his hands up, spreading his fingers deep into the smaller man's hair, single strands catching between them. The sudden move made Saparata shove his body back right up against the wall, leaving behind a soft thud that waved through his entire system. 

His back flat against it, one of his hand leaning over it for steadiness but when that was reassured by the confident touch Fluixon had on his body, he let his hands wander straight to the bigger man’s muscular torso, feeling his frame through his tight-fitted shirt.

He felt the contours shift from narrow to broad beneath his fingertips as they traced the line of his well-built waist underneath the fabric, finally coming to rest against his chest. 

That touch alone sent pleasant shivers through Fluixon’s body, soft shock jolting him slightly upward.

The heat radiating from Flux  was overwhelming, all-consuming to the senses—while Sap’s other focus was held by the taller man’s lips, moving deftly against his own. 

The sharp yet familiar taste of alcohol—every drink the other had consumed—seemed to seep into his own mouth; Saparata felt as though he, too, were about to get even more drunk from it.

Slowly, his surprise subsided, melting away with every movement of his lips against Flux’s. 

Now the taste shifted in a completely new direction, and it took a few slow seconds for Saparata to finally point a finger at what it really was. “Did you smoke?” Saparata muffled between gasps.

Flux’s eyes widened, stopping the kiss, string of saliva connecting their now parted lips for a moment before chuckling, low and gravely sound throbbing in the smaller man’s ear, pushing him to his limits even more. God how much he loved it. “Does it bother you?” Fluixon asked, raising his brow softly.

Saparata despised smoking, that was a fact, but the taste coming from Flux’s lips suddenly vanished all the hate he harbored for it. Suddenly it wasn't that bad. “No” 

Smug grin spread across Fluixon’s face, tugging softly the corners of his mouth and warming up his face, before leaning back in, smacking their lips together again. 

The desperate need didn't back away despite the short break, actually enlarging it even more.

Saparata poured all the raw hunger he felt for him—a need deepened by every gesture the man directed his way—into that very motion. 

Fluixon’s fingers trailed right over his head, one hand slowly being lowered to the nape of his neck. That radiating touch sent tingles down his spine, gentle touch caressing the skin there. 

The kiss directed itself from possessive to aggressive one, now some never said out loud emotions taking a part in it too. 

Saparata found himself slowly becoming breathless, gasping softly against the man’s mouth to catch a few bits of air, but steering it in such way to not break the kiss which made Flux’s grip on his hair only tighten. 

The smell of alcohol and the massive group of people that partied in the club pushed itself through the corridors, occupying everything it found on its way. The skunky and earthy scent of weed hit Saps’s nose, only adding fuel to the fire he felt inside, pushing his confidence even further than before. 

Flux suddenly broke off the kiss; Saparata immediately leaned forward, trying to catch his lips again. The boy tilted his head back, gazing at the smaller boy—at the way a blush perfectly adorned his cheeks and how his eyes dilated as he looked at him. 

It was seriously driving him crazy in the absolute best way possible.

But before the smaller man could groan anything, he made a quick movement to reach for his glasses, slipping them off his nose to open up more possibilities and tucked them into his hair, leaning forward as he catched back Saparata’s slightly parted lips again, more demanding now than before.

That simple move alone awakened something deep in Saps’s lungs, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. 

God, was Fluixon always this hot?

Flux tilted his head, maneuvering it exactly so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past the smaller boy's lips. Saparata immediately positioned himself to give the boy easy access, a confident smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

His fingers dug deeper into the man’s torso, steading his body against it while his other hand trailed to the hem of Flux’s shirt right by his jeans. Playfully at first but quickly just pushing his hand under the fabric, instantly being hit with just how warm and smooth the other’s man skin really was. 

Fluixon without a warning bit his lower lip, making Saparata hiss softly and the taller man paid his price very quickly as Saparata now dug his finger nails into his soft skin. 

Flux’s nose crinkled immediately, his eyes narrowing as his whisper dropped into smoky low drawl. “Ah, spicy”

Saparata only scoffed, enjoying the reaction he received from him before melting once again under the wonders that Flux’s lips did to him. 

And that suddenly made his mind for some reason wandered those 4 months back, to when they had any real close contact for the first time. 

Was Flux absolutely amazing back then?

Holy fuck, yes. 

It literally had Saparata's mind only locked on it for a few long days before he finally made himself push it to a dark corner in his brain as he couldn’t function normally, only wanting to repeat it. 

But whatever happened then was nothing compared to their dynamics today. 

Because Saparata actually felt more sober, and so he definitely had more control over his own movements, the same thing going to Fluixon. 

Also–back then, he was pretty sure they just started to make out out of nowhere, though he could never be truly sure as for fuck’s sake, he remembered shit, where for today, foreplay was involved. Which only deepened the need he had for Flux.

His breath hitched in his throat, making him come back to his senses, as Fluixon had broken their kiss, only to twist it into a dangerous direction, letting his mouth wander down Saps’s jaw right up to his neck. 

The warm huff of air tingling over the sensitive skin there made the smaller boy bite his lower lip, just to muffle out the sounds that spilled out quickly after when Flux’s lips trailed over his throat. 

“You smell nice” Fluixon muffled against his skin, his voice dropping into a breathy and incredibly hot murmur, making Saparata’s brain stall out for a short moment. 

He tilted his head the other way, positioning and exposing his neck even more—giving the man more room to work—while biting down hard on his lip, slowly bracing himself for whatever was about to happen. 

The club’s loud music pounded against every wall, echoing through the corridors and sounding as if it were right around the corner—even though they had moved quite a distance away, with Saparata leading them far enough to ensure no one would find them. Every beat and rhythm pulsed in their heads, running over their bodies in waves and adding an even deeper intensity to the atmosphere.

The low fluorescent lights washed over everything, painting whatever it found in blue hues, Fluixon looked incredibly beautiful in them, especially when he was right up against his neck. That sight only deepened the already violent blush Saparata had over his cheeks, making his brain dizzy. 

Everything had become overwhelming for him, the way Fluixon’s lips felt shifting over his sensitive skin, the way he gripped his hair–not hard, actually surprisingly gentle but the soft pulling did the absolute trick and now how his other hand had trailed under his collar, reaching for the skin on his back. 

And to add to it all, how his lips pulsed, already turning red and swollen from how demanding Fluixon's own were against his and the soft biting. God, explaining that to anyone tomorrow will be an absolute horror and a nightmare. 

No wait–it’s fucking saturday tomorrow, Okay so now only Schpood and his non-stop questions to bear through. 

He could do it. 

“Bro–loosen the grip” Fluixon groaned, Saparata felt the man's teeth grasp over his throat before realizing he had been digging his nails deep into his torso. 

“Sorry” He quickly whispered, strong wave of embarrassment hitting his head like a tsunami. Fuck, when had he dug them so deep? Shit could probably leave a mark. His body temperature rose immediately, now realizing that there are going to be clear signs of their make out, violent hickeys against his neck, reddish swollen lips. 

Saparata blinked, glancing to the side before a loud yelp escaped his lips, which were quickly covered by Flux’s hand, the sounds muffled against his palm. Saparata shot his eyes immediately back at the boy, feeling his heart pounding against his chest, heat flowing to his brain. 

“Fuck, sorry for that” Flux muttered, chuckling softly under his breath as he stirired his head away from the man's neck that he accidentally had bit too hard, deep bloodied mark already appearing there. 

Saparata rolled his eyes, before meeting Fluixon’s. The man just held him, their breathing syncing, both chests raising and falling down simultaneously. 

The way the man's dark strands of hair had fallen over his face made something twist in his stomach, screaming at him to never pull away, to keep staring, trying to remember every single feature as if he were to lose it at any next second. 

The intense feeling he had for the boy didn't subside in the slightest—not even after he received what he had so desperately craved, and indeed, far more. On the contrary, it only intensified, now infused with something else, something he couldn't quite name or comprehend. 

It was an overwhelming need to have that sight before him whenever he pleased, to feel those strong hands upon his body—embracing, touching, doing whatever Flux might desire. 

And, setting aside all physical needs, there was the sheer fact of the boy's presence. God, the control the boy held over him was almost suffocating. Yet Saparata didn't mind it at all, knowing full well just how much he himself was capable of provoking.

The balancing needs that they were both able to satisfy for each other.

Saparata could no longer bear being stuck in that state–simply gazing at him without taking action. He would make the most of the moment while he could, pushing the boundaries as far as the other man allowed and explore every possibility. 

So, without wasting another unnecessary second, he leaned forward and practically devoured Flux’s lips, deepening the kiss before it had even truly begun and sliding his tongue between the other man's lips. Flux’s breath hitched in his throat as he quickly steadied himself, adapting to the new pace Saparata had set.

His hand wandered even higher, tracing a new path up the boy's waist; his tight-fitting shirt caught on the hand, riding up and revealing bare skin as he moved. Fluixon let out a soft laugh, sensing what the boy was doing, and—without holding back—let him carry out whatever plan he had in mind. 

The alcohol buzzed through their veins, pushing rational thinking deep into their brains, deep enough for it to not be used right now.

The quiet seclusion of the dim, remote corridor only bolstered their confidence in what they were doing, with the low light casting the space in a dramatic, cool as fuck atmosphere—a setting created and meant solely for the two of them.

And God, how fucking much did Saparata absolutely loved it. 

“Good morning honey, someone blacked out again" Schpood splashed iced cold water over his face, his large frame leaving Saparata lying in his shadow.

The white haired boy gasped loudly, feeling his lungs grow heavy as it suddenly turned into a hard task to breathe. But who could blame him, getting woken up with fucking ice water was not something anyone love. 

"What the fuck?!" He screamed, shooting his body upright, his posture growing rigid. His eyes scanned the room, finally realizing it was in fact their dorm and it had been no one else than Schpood fucking himself who just had the dick to do something like that to him.

Wiping away the droplets from his face with his wet as well sleeves, his brain suddenly throbbed with violent pain, the hangover not even giving him a moment before taking over everything he had in himself. 

“You got pills on the shelf” The taller man shot lazily at him, not bothering to look even over his shoulder to instantly know that Saparata had rolled himself into a ball, gripping his head hard to soften out the headache.

Saparata scoffed, shifting himself to the side and in fact, there were already pills placed there, waiting for him with a fresh glass of cold water. Having his ego too big, he just gulped them down and decided to ignore the intense gaze the man held over him, clearly waiting for a “thank you” or something. 

Fuck him, because he will not be getting that at all after waking him up WITH FREAKING ICE WATER.

Schpood rolled his eyes so hard it looked almost painful, and leaned himself against the wooden table they had by the bedroom door, sulking on the inside because Saparata said nothing of his hard work. (Placing the pills and glass of water on the man's shelf. Yes, congratulate his ass for that.) 

"Be fucking thankful that this random dude walked you back here" the man huffed out after a second, annoyance and anger seeping through the tone of his voice, resting both of his hands over his hips as he turned his head to the side.

Saparata blinked, feeling his brain stall out for a few long seconds. 

“What?”

Schpood seemed to not notice the confused reaction that Saparata breathed out, continuing his offended and disappointed rambling. "Seriously, if I had to find you lying somewhere, I would just kill your ass on the spot" 

"No wait wait wait wait– STOP!” Saparata yelled as the man still didn't shut up. 

Just after that he did so, staring at him like Saparata just murdered his mother in cold blood right before him. 

“Some random dude? What did he look like?" Saparata got up to his feet, his brain instantly blacking out his vision but he steadied himself by holding the bed frame. 

Schpood narrowed his eyes, face twisting as if he had just tasted something bitter but the man just sighed, letting himself think for a second before answering. "Uh, tall, butnotastallasmeofcourse, dark hair, glasses too, I think at least... Can't remember the rest, but he left a number."

Saps’s brain did a horrendous short circuit, spinning all his thoughts and spitting them right back after out, leaving him to collect them to scramble. Saparata felt a deep blush wash over his neck, already trailing over to his cheeks, eyes widening even more with every word that left the other's mouth. 

It wasn't a fucking dream. It all had seriously happened. 

And holy fuck, he got his number. 

…

HOLY FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKK–