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Robine knocked at the door. She wasn't used to, but the last time she didn't, she got thrown out. So she knocked.
Nico didn't answer, of course he didn't, because he probably liked to bother her. She sighed. She didn't even know why she was here at the first place, because why was she worried, when she told Aenor that they hadn't seen Nico since a few days she brushed it off and told that he needed time alone, so why was Robine here really she could use her time in so many ways-
She opened the door. Inside, darkness, even thought the sun was normally still high in the sky. A smell, not bad, but confined. A mess, hid by the curtains blocking all the light from entering. Someone? Maybe, if that was what could define the dark shape on the invisible couch. And alcohol, not on every, but on a lot of visible surfaces. Fuck.
"Hey." Robine spoke without meaning to, but she didn't feel like watching a friend (was he even a friend? She didn't know anymore.) like this.
"Fuck off," he answered.
"You okay?" She pretended she didn't hear.
"Do I look like it?" He didn't pretend like he was, at least.
"Honestly, you look like shit."
"Fuck you." At least it was different from the first time.
"I suppose that you don't want my help."
He didn't answer. She got closer, at least to see who she was talking to. He looked worse, from here.
"You don't seem like you want to talk either."
"Are you going to say obvious statements all night long? I may be bored to death."
They didn't say anything else, because words didn't belonged in a place so dark.
This night, they had sex, without love. Without appreciation or tenderness. Even the friendship wasn't there. They were strangers, and they had things to forget.
___
The party was loud, the sparkles shone and the drinks flowed. Alaric was dancing, even if he didn't want to, of course he was, because she asked and he didn't want to say no, because he wasn't supposed to say no. Saying no would just bring another argument, and he didn't want people to be involved. They had better things to do.
Colorful braids filled his vision, brown lips covered by gloss talking to him. He didn't understand, his mind saturated. Noises. Smells. Touches. Everything was bad, everything was too much, he would rather be anywhere but here. He had to, though, because she asked him and it was his duty, he couldn't say no, because he was supposed to be happy and to enjoy it-
Fingers on his arm, on his uncovered skin, getting higher until they reached the thin fabric of his shirt, and continued to climb under, before choosing another way and going down, instead- down on his (still covered) torso, but up the second they reached the brim of the shirt- and those lips, those lips, sparkly lips, filling his vision and nose and mouth, his neck and down again, and up, and down, in a constant back and forth.
He felt somebody pulling him, whispering sweet, incomprehensible nothings in his ear, an unknown warmth glued to his body. He saw stairs, and a door, and a bed, and sparkles, dropping on the floor but staying on the lips, and probably covering his face and neck now. Maybe it will cover somewhere else, tonight, but his mind didn't want to say it to him, he didn't want to know. He only knew that he was supposed to like it, so he had to let her chose, because it was this way, and no other.
This night, they had sex, but only one of them truly remembered it, because only one of them was here.
___
Draven knew he was hot, of course he was, he knew how his clothes were perfectly falling in place, his hair nicely made, his jewellery highlighting the perfect places. He knew all of it, he saw it in the mirror. He didn't know why he had all of it, though, but he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think, at all, because the last time he thought it did not end well, and the big, so big bandage eating a part of his normally perfect face was just a proof of it.
Honestly, he didn't care, because he wasn't going somewhere where it mattered, anyway. The neon lights shining on his perfect hair and perfect skin, the smell of sweat and alcohol filling his nose, all of this was just a painful reminder of where he was- where he belonged- the place he never should have thought that he could leave. If it was his mother's, it was his. It was the only place where he could do something. Maybe he could also lose some others.
He didn't have to wait long before being included in the non-stop dance of the bar, a girl kissing his neck, a boy opening his mouth, filling it with burning liquid before choking him. His mind getting blurry a few seconds, his body forgetting how to breath. Floating seconds enough to send him over the edge, blurry faces, blurry memories, hiding deeper in his brain until only his basic instincts took control, making him lose himself in the never-ending bliss. He didn't care when a dark-haired boy passed a finger on his cheek, or when he saw a flick of silver, or when the lights turned red.
He only cared about not being him, just a night.
He got in the exact same bar way more than one night.
These nights, he had sex, bodies slipping between his hands like memories between his fingers.
___
Eros was behind a door, not hiding, of course, just waiting for the perfect moment to cross it. He had to go, he knew it, because else it would be like every other time, and the rose between his fingers would end up with all the other faded ones that he never got to offer. But this time, he would give it, and say the things he whispered in the dark of his room.
He opened the door and was greeted with music, loud noise filling the closed bar. It wasn't unusual, Dio was always working with music, the unusual thing was that Dio was definitely not working. His hair were splayed on the bar while his head rested on his arms, Eros got closer, counting the bottles and glasses, too many, too many for a day without customers.
He was terrified to say that he was used to it, his body going on autopilot, his hand taking the small orange box from the hand laying too, way too close to an half-full glass, his arm pushing the empty bottles, his eyes scanning the names of all the different drinks, and there were so many. His thoughts wandering a bit too far, asking if it was this one, the one too many, the rose laying on the floor, forgotten, the music still playing, the guitar contrasting too much with the jingle of glass against glass.
At least, he secured his grip on the asleep body and brought it upstairs, putting it in the bed, hesitating to get closer, because he wasn't really allowed to, but what if it got worse-
The kiss pressed on his lips tasted like alcohol and salt, the arms bringing him closer were shaking.
He knew he shouldn't get closer, because all of this was a mistake. He knew he had to talk.
This night, they had sex, filling the dark room with whispers and unsaid words.
___
Unfinished and unsent letters lay scattered on the floor, wet uneven eyes shining in the badly lit room. Agate's arm hurt, not the fake one but the one writing meaningless words since too long, a forgotten pen between tired fingers. The night on the other side of his window was here since so long, the sun soon preparing to rise again for another meaningless day.
The pen fell on the floor when the boy fell on his back, tired hand hiding the ceiling from his view. He didn't know why he was still awake, because it was the third night in a row where he didn't sleep. His body had become a machine made for surviving a long day before spending the night facing papers he'd never send, anyway, what was the point?
He never sent a letter, of course he didn't. He was forgotten, or worse- hated. But still, he lay here, thinking about the blue hair and blue eyes and blue glasses haunting his nights and filling his dreams, white teeth shining and book pages flipping, long fingers playing with anything except what he wanted them to play with, thin lips talking too much on the other side of the world.
Imagination had a bad influence on a tired mind, while fake pictures paraded before tired eyes. He never accepted fantasies, why would he, it wasn't what he was supposed to think about. But right now, right here, this night, in this room, fantasies was the realest thing he had.
This night, he had sex, because they would never have it.
___
"Hi."
Brown hearts met dark pits when their gazes crossed paths.
"Hi."
This night has been good, great, amazing, the fun they had sparking through their bodies and their minds. Offering freedom, too, recklessness, because why else would they be on a bed, tonight, after swearing a few days ago that this would be the last time?
Their faces close, closer, a small move closing the distance, lips against lips in a sweet embrace. Movements getting daring, faster, sliding on skin. Right now, they didn't care about promises or hotel rooms or anything, because they were there, together, so close that they could see everything, and-
"Hey." Alec voice stopped the wheel right before its fall. "You're okay?"
"Yeah, why?" Eli smiled, wanting only to bury his chin in the crook of this oh so delicate neck. The only place where the crippling feeling in his chest would disappear.
The other boy frowned, then sat down. Please, don't. He looked at him with more intensity. Why do you do this? "You lie."
"I don't." Eli sat down too, long hair already a mess. "Why would I?"
Fleeing eyes. Dangerous. "Maybe you're not... Comfortable? You have to say it if you're not. Please."
Congratulations, now he feels guilty. Why would he? He's perfect. "I totally am." He tried his best to smile. Don't look. Please.
"You can talk to me, you know? I mean, we already got pretty... Intimate. If you've got something on your mind, I think I'm well-placed to know it."
"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have anything on my mind tonight. Except, of course, the obvious." Flirt. Hide. Speed up the thing.
Because last time was fast. Dark. Heated.
If they did it slow, he'll show too much. You can't keep good hair and perfect make-up while having sex. You can't hide your face when somebody's kissing you. You can't look perfect when you're not.
But seeing the frown on the other's face, not upset, but worried, he got himself thinking. If it was bubbly alcohol in his head or comfortable sheets on the bed, he didn't know. Maybe it was the warm feeling getting slightly bigger each time he looked at the split-haired dork in front of him. But tonight, he almost felt safe.
They talked, a long time. Kissed, a bit. Cuddled, a lot.
This night, they didn't have sex, because what they had was so much more precious.