The dark night had finally fallen on a Saturday night. The party night.
Ryan's ears rang, not from music but from Ethan, who had spent the entire evening going on and on about everything. How to walk. How to smile. How to not look like someone who wandered into a club by mistake. Every piece of advice, every critique, every half-joking warning stacked on top of each other, and by the time they left the hostel, Ryan felt like his brain had been kneaded, stretched, and left out to dry.
"Relax," Ethan said, sliding into the backseat of the taxi like he wasn't the problem. "Tonight will go well as long as you heed to everything I said, okay?"
Ryan didn't answer. He just stared out the window, watching streetlights lined up along the sides. He was tired. Too tired to argue. Too tired to reassure anyone, including himself.
The taxi pulled up near the club, its demeanor nothing like the Elites he had once been to. He could hear the low, persistent bass throbbing from the sidewalk. He took a slow breath, trudging closely behind Ethan
The doorman barely looked at them, nodding at an easy smile Ethan flashed at him. The club was alive with different bodies moving in loose clusters, hands lifted and swirling to the rhythm of the music. The air had a mixed scent of rich cologne and alcohol, conversations muffled into eachother under the DJ's relentless sound.
Ethan nudged at him. "I'm off, man," he said casually, hands already tucked into his jacket pockets as he drifted sideways.
Ryan reacted immediately, grabbing Ethan's arm. "What do you mean you're off?" He leaned closer, voice low and tight. "Don't tell me you're leaving me here by myself."
Ethan slipped free easily. "Yeah," he said... firmly, "That's exactly what I'm doing."
He placed both hands on Ryan's shoulders, spun him around, and gave him a light push forward. "And that's the first step of tonight's mission," he added. "All man to himself."
"Tsk." A wink, a lazy two-finger salute, and just like that, he was gone, melting into the crowd before Ryan could even think of chasing him.
Ryan stood there for a second, staring at the space Ethan had been in. Then he made a nervous sigh, the kind that meant giving up.
He scanned the room, instinctively looking for somewhere quiet, a corner he could disappear into.
He shouldn't have agreed to this.
The thought settled in quickly as he made his way toward the bar at the far end of the room.
He wasn't built for this. He was the type be conversational or social in gatherings like this, except someone familiar was nearby.
Still.
"Well," he muttered under his breath, more resigned than hopeful, "people say alcohol helps in situations like this, right?"
Maybe just a little. Enough to take the edge off and loosen him up.
He pulled out a swivel bar stool with a small back and narrow armrests and dropped into it as the noise washed over him again.
This was happening. Whether he liked it or not. It kept repeating in his head.
The bartender came over, drying his hands on a rag. "What would you like?"
Ryan hesitated. "Just… something good for the mood," he said after a moment. "But not too strong."
The bartender studied him briefly, then gave a small nod before turning away. Bottles clinked softly, range flashed, followed by ice and a lazy, practiced stir. When he returned, he slid the glass across the counter with an easy smile.
"Aperol spritz," he said. "Bright, light, and won't knock you on your ass if taken moderately."
Ryan stared at the drink. Under the bar lights, it glowed a clean, vivid orange, bubbles racing upward as if they were in a hurry.
"Thanks," he murmured.
The bartender nodded once and moved on.
Ryan wrapped his fingers around the glass, stared at it a bit before taking a sip.
"Hello," a pleasant voice, low and smooth, said above him.
Ryan glanced up. "Hello," he replied, offering a small smile as he watched the man take the stool beside him.
"Aperol spritz," the stranger said, tipping his head toward Ryan's glass. "That's a good one." He lifted a finger toward the bartender. "I'll have the same."
Ryan leaned back slightly on his stool, eyes narrowing into the man, wondering who he was and why he was sitting close to him.
The bartender returned with the drink. The stranger crossed his legs, took a sip, and gave a thoughtful, acknowledging nod.
"It's been a while since I've had this," he said, setting the glass down before shifting his chair closer to Ryan. "Hello again. I'm Chase." He extended his hand.
Ryan hesitated, then took it. "I'm Ryan."
Chase held onto the hand a bit longer. "Nice name," he said casually. "And soft hands. They fit your slender frame."
Ryan pulled his hand back sharply. "Huh...?"
"It's just a compliment," Chase said quickly, leaning away in retreat. "I'm just the type to appreciate the good things before me. So, no bad intentions here."
"Um… thanks," Ryan muttered. He finished the rest of his drink in one go and slid the empty glass toward the bartender. "Another."
"You're a Business major? Or you were invited?" Chase went on.
"The former," Ryan replied, sounding half-interested. He wasn't used to conversing with strangers outside work, so he just wished this tall redhead with a careless posture would leave him the fuck alone, regardless of whatever reason behind him attending the party.
"That's nice. I was invited, though," Chase said. "And I'm a Studio Arts major..."
I didn't ask, he thought in his head, but his head and mouth don't say the same thing. "That's nice," he forced a smile.
"Yeah. Thanks. I'm not much of a party-goer. I only attend once in a while if the vibe's hot, and I haven't really been to parties in a long while. Partly because I've been away and over there, it's been one thing or the other keeping me hella busy. I just got back last week, was told about this party, and decided to attend even though it isn't really hot, per se, I needed to cool my brain off," he chuckled at his own ironic actions. "So here I am." He exhaled, letting his tone drop into a casual close.
A few seconds passed, then he added, "I guess you don't attend parties."
"Why?" Ryan asked, suddenly sounding interested, and slamming down the fourth shot of Aperol spritz.
"You look tensed up. And there's this saying that those who sit alone at a bar in a party either have something bothering them or it's their first time. And I'm pretty sure you ain't the former."
At that point, Ryan was starting to feel it at the sixth shot. His movements were sluggish, and he frowned. "Why do you act like you know anything about me?
Chase chuckled, amused by the way he slurred the words in a cute way. "I don't," he said with a shrug, swirling his glass lazily. "I'm just… a little good at reading people."
"And why's that? You studying psychology or something?
"That kinda hurts, you know," he made a frown, which wasn't exactly real or fake.
"Why?" Ryan turned toward him, half-lidded and sluggish. "Why's that?"
"You didn't have to show you were uninterested this way," Chase said, leaning forward slightly. "I already mentioned it earlier. I'm a Studio Arts major."
"Oh, my bad. I wasn't paying attention," Ryan mumbled, rubbing his temples.
Chase laughed, "You're one funny kid," he said, and laughed again. "I guess you ain't here alone either. Your partner ditched you?"
"How'd you know that?" Ryan's voice cracked slightly, pitch a little high in a drunken defensive.
"You know I really don't like Ethan. We came here together... no, we didn't. He basically forced me into being here. He pleaded with me all week long to attend this party. And when I finally agreed and came with him, guess what that jerk did? He left me all alone to myself." He cried, his words tumbling out, slurred and frustrated. "That's very bad of him, right?"
Chase just watched him closely, his elbows on the bar and biting at his fingers as he fought back a laugh, like Ryan's behavior was doing something to him and he had no idea what to do with it.
"Yeah… that's very bad of him," he said, voice soft and amused. "How could he…"
"I bet he ditched me to go talk to girls, right? I swear after tonight, I'm never speaking to him again," he leaned back against the barstool. "I already have my fair share of bad luck. Adding a bad friend to it isn't what I'm doing."
"You have my full support. That isn't something a good friend should do. So even if you want to sue him, I can refer you to a good lawyer. Just…"
He was taken by surprise as the lean-framed kid beside him slumped slightly into his shoulders. He let out a scoff at how cute it felt. He knew it would happen sooner or later, given how Ryan kept gulping down the shots, like it was a competition. Part of him had thought about stopping him, but then he didn't. He didn't want to halt all that cuteness. The way Ryan's head would tilt back slightly without restraint, the way his pale wrists flexed around the glass.
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The night stretched on slowly. For some, the energy of the club was fading, the bass was starting to lose its drive. Yet for some, that was just the beginning.
At a corner of the club, three guys were rounded in a table as they drank, laughed, and shouted over the music, letting their attention drift freely through the room
Adrian arrived a little late, weaving through the crowd before joining them at the table. He leaned into a couch as he sipped, nodding at some point and scanning the crowd
Then those eyes found Ryan.
There was no mistaking him. Thin-waisted and slender, with words spilling out in a lazy flow, his drifting through the music rhythm. Adrian narrowed in on the figure until recognition clicked. That one night, the conversation and that moment between them. He had pushed them aside back then, taking it as one of his little 'games'.
He had pushed them aside back then, telling himself it was just one of Ryan's little games. There was no need to bother himself.
Seconds passed and into minutes. Adrian tried to focus on the banter in his own circle, tried to give his full attention to the conversation in front of him, but his gaze wouldn't stop drifting.
He didn't want that little discomfort to get to him, so he just let himself sink to the lively, puppy-like energy Ryan gave off, which was in contrast with that night's version of him.
Then he was quiet, tense, and tucked together. But now, even though he was drunk, he seemed freer, chatty, and made those wide smiles. And deep down, he knew he liked both versions of him.
The reserved version from that night had made him want to have his way with Ryan, to break him, to do things he wouldn't admit aloud.
The Ryan in front of him now stirred the same urge, but in a lighter, more dangerous way, and Adrian couldn't decide which pull was stronger.
He let out a small laugh at himself, shaking his head at how wired it all felt, how completely ridiculous and inevitable it was that he was thinking this about someone else in a crowded club.
"What was it again?" he muttered to himself, brushing at his eyebrows, trying to recall the reason they had met in the first place. "Yeah, the tutoring... he asked me to be his tutor… should I just give it a go?"
He watched him further. From the hand gestures to the slurred, nearly inaudible words, and then that one moment... falling into the redhead's shoulder.
The smile on Adrian's face vanished almost immediately, and he jerked up to his feet, instinctive, sudden, as if pulled by the force of it.
"What's wrong, bro?" Dylan asked, tilting his head, curious.
"Umm… nothing. I'm heading out for a bit," Adrian muttered, and without waiting, strode toward the bar, eyes locked on Ryan the entire way.
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Ryan didn't realize how fast he'd been drinking. One sip had been casual, the second deliberate, but by the tenth shot, the bright orange liquid burned down too quickly. He had wanted alcohol to loosen up, but he didn't expect to be gulping it like this, forced along by the unrelenting chatter of the tall redhead.
A dizzy, floaty kind of lightheadedness was starting to creep into him with Chase's voice becoming distant. His head rolled, and before he knew it, he fell forward into Chase's shoulders
Chase caught him instinctively, arms steadying him against the bar. "Whoa," he muttered, one brow raised, "how the hell did you... over this?" His voice held the faint disbelief of watching someone get drunk on an Aperol spritz. It was hardly the kind of drink that knocks anyone off their feet.
Ryan blinked up at him, a slow, wide grin spreading across his face. "Ummm… sorry about that," he slurred, waving his hand lazily. "It seems I'm getting tipsy." He tapped his temple, unsteady laughter bubbling up.
Chase sneered, the corner of his lips lifting in amusement. "You're not tipsy, Ryan. You're heavily drunk."
"Am I?" Ryan forced the words out, his tongue thick, his eyes half-closed, and his vision swinging. "I… I should find Ethan…" He tried pushing himself upright, only to swerve dangerously.
Chase caught him again by the shoulders before he could fall completely.
"I don't think you can find him in this state," Chase said, trying to steady him. "You can't even get on your two feet, so it's best if you just stay here. I'll find Ethan for you. What does he look like? What's he..." He reached to grab Ryan's shoulder again, only to be interrupted by a long, slender hand blocking him.
"Can you get your hands off him? I came with this guy," the man said, brows furrowed, his tone sharp.
Chase froze for a second, surprised and wondering why the man seemed so angry.
"Oh… you must be Ethan?" Chase said, retreating slightly, hands raised in a mix of caution and amusement.
The man didn't reply. He grabbed Ryan's hand with surprising firmness, yanking him to his feet and pulling him along like he weighed nothing.
Chase stayed back and watched silently as Ryan staggered, leaning left, then right, his body swaying with every step.
Ryan didn't look back.
He clicked his tongue softly, but in annoyance
"I should've gotten his number," he muttered, lifting his glass again, eyes lingering on the space Ryan had just left.