Emil's brother had brought him to a club. Actually, that wasn't true. Emil's brother's boyfriend had brought him to a club, and Lukas had just sort of tagged along. Emil assumed this was a ploy by his brother to make Emil forgive him.

Emil and Lukas had lived together in a small, cozy apartment. And then, one day out of the blue, a man with ridiculous hair and an axe moved in. With Lukas. Apparently, this was Abel. Emil couldn't ask any questions about this arrangement, but now he woke up to the sound of loud, angry sex.

He was pissed, to say the least. Emil and Lukas had a nice set up before that buffoon came to ruin everything. Poptarts filled the cabinets, the axe had usurped the painting over the couch, and now there was a second file named 'Honest Able' on all of Emil's videogames. Who this man was or where he came from was a mystery.

The thing that bothered Emil the most was that Lukas hadn't mentioned Abel at all. Not one word, a snippet of chatter, had given Emil any idea of Abel's existence. But he had been there.

Emil had snapped last night, after a month of suffering. Screaming, a broken vase, Lukas watching passively from the doorway, and the three of them had ended up in this shitty, shitty little gay bar—club.

And—Jesus Christ—the grinding. It was like everybody in the entire place was trying to violently hump while still in their clothes. Emil, while enjoying the music, faced the bar and wondered if he could actually hear the fabric rubbing together, or if it was just his imagination.

Another drink suddenly appeared in front of Emil, and a man sat down next to him. He raised an eyebrow at Emil, probably wondering why he was sitting alone at the bar.

"Fuckin' grinding," Emil responded—well, said, gesturing behind him. "I don't want creepy people touching me."

"How old are you?"

Emil grumbled into his drink. "My I.D. says twenty-one; good enough for the man outside. You?"

The man shrugged, turning in his seat to observe the swaying mass of people. "Why'd you come here if you, like, don't want to be touched by anyone?"

Emil looked over his shoulder just long enough to make sure Lukas and Abel weren't grinding behind him before following the man's action and turning to face the crowd. It suddenly dawned on Emil how cute the stranger was.

Emil shrugged, swirling his drink around. "I… Uh, enjoy the… The culture."

The man opened his mouth, eyebrows slightly drawn together.

Or course Abel would come blundering over. Emil spun so fast on his chair that he fell out, hitting the man before landing heavily onto the ceramic floor. Abel stood over him, laughing and ordering two drinks.

"Easy with the alcohol, there!" Abel chided, holding the drinks in one hand and patting Emil's head with the other.

As quickly as he had appeared and ruined everything, Abel was gone.

Emil pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes for a moment before standing up. Running away isn't a proper adjective for what Emil did, but it was close. He pushed at the people blocking his way. The cold air felt like a blessing when Emil finally reached it.

After angrily pacing up and down the sidewalk a couple of times, Emil collapsed into a bench near the club. Abel was his ride home.

Emil watched the empty road, slowly cooling down. Hugging his knees to his chest, he watched the cars drive by. It was drizzling. Emil pulled the hood up from his sweatshirt. He didn't even notice when the man from inside sat down next to him.

"I'm Xiang—Just call me Leon, it's easier."

Emil breathed out his nose, hiding his eyes by pressing them into his knees. "Emil."

"Was that your boyfriend?"

Emil let out a harsh laugh. "No, my brother's douchebag."

Leon was silent for a moment. "Want to get back at him?"

"What?" Emil finally looked up, returning to a normal sitting position and facing Leon.

"We could make out," Leon suggested, voice losing strength towards the end.

It was such a dumb suggestion. It was a stupid suggestion really. Somewhere, in the very back of Emil's mind, he wondered if this was how Lukas had met Abel. Abel definitely seemed like the type of man who would drunkenly ask to make out with you.

Emil swung his leg over Leon, straddling him. A second later, their mouths collided. Tongue and teeth—which hurt and sucked—and Emil pulled out his phone, taking a photo of them. Leon pulled back when he saw the flash, but Emil returned his phone into his pocket, turned Leon's head back toward him and continued their session.

The picture was all over Facebook the next morning.