Playlist - 12. Track 12) Born Again Teen - Lucius

March 15th, 8:09PM

Sebastian felt restless this week. He didn’t realize how much he relied on work to provide a schedule, a routine, in his life. Tuesday he had no Miles to drag him out in the studio, so he just stayed home and worked on the digital files of his other smaller clients. Then Wednesday came and went. Then Thursday. Gone, too.

At least he wasn’t borderline-comatose and moping like he was post-breakup with Emile.

But finally, Friday came along. For once, Sebastian was grateful to have studio time again, even if it were with a mediocre garage band hashing out the final stages of an EP. In fact, since he was already out of the house, he even got himself a record from Tap Vinyl: the suitably-homosexual choice of Kylie Minogue’s Disco. Eddy had given a wary eye checking out that album for Sebastian, to which Sebastian returned his best “cold demeanor.” Even if Miles and him weren’t speaking anymore, Eddy’s energy to him still ruffled Sebastian’s feathers a week later.

Now, however, it was Friday night. Two weekends in a row, Sebastian had plans to go out. When did that ever happen to him? Hopefully, his night was going to go a lot easier than his previous Friday night.

A rapping noise came from the other side of his bedroom door. He was in the middle of trying to figure out an outfit to wear (a familiar battle). “‘Sup?” he called out, pulling off a heather gray sweatshirt.

“Are you almost ready?”

It was Audrey.

“Oh! One second, but yeah.”

He didn’t ask for specifics, but apparently whatever rough patch Naveen and Audrey were going through that week was resolved. Actually, the way Sebastian found out was walking in on them making out in the kitchen this morning; he wasn’t really told anything.

After finally deciding on a pair of white chucks, jean shorts, and a faded yellow t-shirt with a cartoon fish on it, Sebastian came out of his bedroom with an unprecedented puff in his chest.

It was probably because of that Ezra guy. Tonight they were going to the concert the bartender had invited him to on Monday night. Man, Ezra was cool. And hot. But mostly cool. Actually, know what? Just cool, not hot. That wasn’t what Sebastian even noticed. Not at all.

Totally. Just. Cool.

“Nice shirt,” Naveen tossed. He was seated on the couch, watching another anime Sebastian wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of recognizing.

“So we know who, there?” Audrey questioned. She had been leaning against the kitchen counter, nursing an energy drink.

“No one,” her boyfriend responded.

“That’s not true!” Sebastian offered, “Ezra’ll be there.”

Naveen let out an amused huff from his nose and said nothing.

Audrey asked knowingly, “Oh, is Ezra the bartender you were flirting with?” She batted her eyes with cartoon innocence.

Quickly, Sebastian’s cheeks flared red. “I wasn’t— Wait, Naveen what the hell!”

His roommate shrugged and exhaled, “I have witnessed that you are a very obvious flirt.”

A mental replay of that night showed Sebastian was totally not flirting on Monday. Wait, was he? Oh god, that was not going to do him any good worrying about.

“Look, can we just go? Who’s driving?” Sebastian protested.

Naveen raised his hand and spun a set of keys around his finger.

“Good,” Sebastian said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“He’s very eager tonight,” Naveen teased.

“Oh my god shut the fuck up.”

March 15th, 9:30PM

Sheldon, the band that they were seeing, was the most millennial band Sebastian could probably ever imagine.

He, Audrey, and Naveen walked into the dimly-lit bar they were playing at and were welcomed by a hard rock rendition of The Big Bang Theory theme. Then Sheldon crudely played the theme songs to The Nanny, That’s So Raven, and As Told By Ginger (Okay, that last one was actually very good). Apparently, that was their “thing”; they did metal covers of 90’s and 00’s television theme songs.

It was that sort of irony that tried so hard to be ironic, it felt dated and awkward. At the very least, it wasn’t very entertaining.

Sebastian and his friends were all doing that blank-faced shoulder shuffle people do when they clearly weren’t feeling the vibes but still wanted to be polite and go along with the energy around them. If Audrey and Naveen weren’t convincing, Sebastian couldn't even imagine how poor of a job he was doing.

Apparently, they were the outliers. The crowd around them seemed to really be feeling the scene. There were people their age all the way to people maybe in their forties standing in haphazard clumps all around the bar. They were in an “interesting” style of dress tonight; many wore dress shirts with overalls on top of them, others had on clothes made with mesh fabric where mesh fabric didn’t belong, and nearly every head in the bar was adorned with short, fisherman beanies.

The worst part about the night was Sebastian hadn’t seen Ezra the bartender anywhere, not even behind the bar. Sebastian was pretty sure Ezra only worked at Hinano Cafe, but he ran out of other options to consider.

Sheldon’s frontman, the “Mikey” that terrorized several radio station’s phone lines according to Naveen, announced they were going to take a quick break to deal with a “pants issue.” This allowed a conversational murmur to bubble up through the bar.

“This is definitely a unique show,” Audrey commented hesitantly.

Naveen kissed her hand and said, “I had a feeling this would be a disappointment. I now remember why we’ve never given a radio play to them.”

Sebastian fell back against a wall and started to slink down it in cartoonish defeat.

“Aww, is someone hoping their hot bartender is gonna show?” Audrey poked.

“You were the one who advised me to get some dick,” he countered.

Audrey sucked in a breath and, almost delighted, said, “Oh, that’s right I did.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure he’s straight,” Sebastian conceded. He knew he shouldn’t really care if Ezra showed up or not, yet his insides still felt empty. Could Sebastian feel stood up in this instance? It wasn’t like he was asked out on a date. Shit, Ezra was under the impression Sebastian was dating Naveen. Actually, now that he thought about it, did Ezra even say he was going to the show, too? What if he was just hocking off his friend’s band to a music-type of guy like Sebsatian?

“Yo yo!” a familiar voice chanted through the bar crowd. The short but sturdy figure of Ezra the bartender ambled in. He had a dazed grin and raised up one of his toned arms as a greeting. “You made it! Sebastian, yeah?”

Sebastian blinked and flushed, “Haha. Um. Yes.” His attention immediately flickered to his roommate. Politely, Sebastian introduced, “You already met Naveen on Monday.”

Naveen jerked his chin up in a very dude-bro “sup” motion, which Ezra returned.

“Oh, and this is Naveen’s girlfriend. My friend Audrey.” Sebastian continued, opening his palms up to Audrey. He did his very best to stress that Naveen was nowhere on his “sexual interest radar.”

Okay, so, maybe he was flirting a tiny, little, baby amount.

Audrey wiggled her fingers at Ezra, who repeated the chin-jerk motion.

They really only had time for introductions, as Mikey the frontman bounded back to the stage with a triumphant cheer. Technically, he wasn’t on much of a stage since it wasn’t elevated, rather just an area cleared out for Sheldon to perform. Either way, it seemed the band of 30-somethings were ready to continue their set, much to Sebastian’s dismay.

The crowd of similarly-aged millennials seemed to be modestly interested in their set, Sebastian noticed. In fact, they really turned up when Sheldon wailed through “I’ll Be There For You” from Friends (one of Sebastian’s favorite shows… but this version tonight was certainly not his favorite rendition of its theme).

However, the song selection and fluctuating energy of the crowd were now of little intrigue since Ezra showed up after all.

Clearly the guy knew his music, if their conversation at Hinano Cafe was of any indication. Instantly attractive just because of that, but he was also very easy on the eyes. Tattoos littered all over his body. Solid nose with a regal curve down. A strong browline. Very, very kissable lips.

It seemed the tattoo on his bicep that caught his eye the other night, now that Sebastian was standing right next to him, was of The Thinker statue but in place of the ponderer’s head, there was a garlic bulb.

Apparently, Ezra noticed his staring as he leaned over to Sebastian, keeping his eyes on the band, and announced, “It’s ‘The Stinker.’”

“What?” Sebastian shouted back, trying to keep his volume up over the music.

“My tattoo! The garlic on the guy! The ‘Stinker.’” Ezra now had on a shit-eating grin, like he was proud at how absolutely lame his tattoo concept was.

“Oh man,” Sebastian snorted, “That is so stupid!”

“I know!” Ezra chuckled, smile unwavering. He simply didn’t care that it was silly. Damn, that was cool. Why was he here in this lame shit if he was so fucking cool?

That would have been the end of the exchange, but Sebastian was determined not to let the conversation die out. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Ezra raised an eyebrow and shouted, “What’d you say?!”

“Naveen’s not my boyfriend!”

“Huhhhh?”

“Naveen isn’t my-!”

Ezra put up a palm, then pointed his finger towards the bar’s exit. He gestured with a silly eyebrow wiggle to follow him outdoors.

Sebastian turned his head to try and find Naveen and Audrey who… were making out in the corner nearby. Okay, well that was permission enough to follow the bartender outside.

He bobbed and weaved through the crowd. The back of Ezra’s head provided the only guided light out of the bar, now that the night was in full swing and more people had showed up. They all gave Sebastian dirty looks as he tried to traverse between them; as if there was a problem trying to actually move?

Outside, the air was as wonderfully salty as it was when he’d taken Naveen here earlier in the week. The night, just as warm. The ocean, as he could see a few blocks away, was just as peaceful. Yet, tonight, Sebastian’s heart raced.

Ezra walked a few feet away by a poster advertising future shows at the bar, and Sebastian met him, stammering, “I was trying to say that Naveen, the guy who came with me, h-he’s not my-- ahh!”

Suddenly, arms were around his waist and he was gently spun against the bar’s exterior. It was… Ezra. The bartender stood a mere inch or two from Sebastian’s face. He smelled faintly of smoke. His eyes were dark and massive, like Sebastian would fall right through them if he stared too long into them. Yet, he couldn’t tear his gaze away if he wanted to. He certainly didn’t want to do that, anyway.

Their heads inched closer towards each other. Tantalizingly close.

And then Ezra kissed Sebastian. Well, “kiss” would be putting it lightly. He was full-on making out with him. His mouth moved aggressively against Sebastian’s. A flurry of smacks and smooches.

Oh, this was kinda sexy. And surprising. Whoa, that’s a lot of tongue though, okay. Shit, Ezra’s hand moved quick. How’d it get there? Oh, don’t fuck this up Sebastian. Don’t say anything. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“Wh-What’s going on?” he trembled.

Damn it, Sebastian.

Ezra reeled his head back and let go. Something struck across his face and he hesitantly asked, “Is… this is okay right?”

“Yes,” Sebastian breathed.

“You’re very cute,” the bartender cooed like a worried parent. He brushed a thumb against Sebastian’s cheekbone and sighed.

Sebastian gulped. “S-Sorry. I just… didn’t expect this.”

“What do you mean? You were obviously flirting with me last time I saw you.”

Sebastian threw his hands up. “Oh my god, why’s everyone saying that! I wasn’t flirting.”

Ezra rolled his shoulder back and feigned, “Oh, well, I mean we can just stop right here then, man.”

“No, no!” Sebastian exclaimed and feverishly grabbed the man's biceps to hold him in place. Oh. Yeah. Those were some decent biceps indeed. “I just assumed you were straight, not gay.”

“I’m not gay,” Ezra sniffed.

“Er. Bisexual.”

“Nah.”

Sebastian wasn’t exactly fond of guessing games. He inquired, “...pansexual?”

“Eh,” shrugged the bartender. He finally ceded, “I ain’t about labels, you feel me?”

“Oh.”

They promptly went back to making out. Sebastian felt like he was in college all over again, except instead of swapping spit with another closeted guy in a shadowy alley or in a car, he was kissing up on a guy way out of his league in public.

Like, wow, this guy was super out of Sebastian’s league. He had confident facial features, and damn, he was pretty strong, too. Ezra had lifted Sebastian up slightly, which actually made making out a bit more difficult since Ezra was about three inches shorter than Sebastian. Not that he cared.

How was this happening?

“Wait!” Sebastian choked, gasping for air. “Why are you doing this?”

“You’re cute,” the man reiterated plainly, as if it were obvious enough to not be stated. He leaned back in and, again, they went back to making out. After all, how could Sebastian resist?

He could practically hear his younger self cheering him on, proud that he somehow could bag a hot, slightly-older guy oozing masculinity and intrigue. Now this was a love story worth writing; Sebastian getting maybe a little too frisky on a Friday night with a hot guy. This was what anyone would want! Pretty soon, he’d be taking him out to restaurants (affordable, of course) and he’d not have to worry about if they were “vegetarian friendly.” Wait, was Ezra vegetarian?

It was then, around minute twenty of their tongue-wrestling match, that Sebastian realized he knew next to nothing about Ezra besides he liked the Doors, that he was a bartender, and oh shit, okay, he really knew where to put his hands.

Against his better judgment, Sebastian gently pushed back against Ezra’s chest.

A faint flicker of irritation crossed the bartender’s eyes, but just for a moment. Sebastian blushed and whimpered, “I… I’m sorry. I just… I… look, are you vegetarian?”

Ezra sputtered, “Wha?” and then burst out laughing. He cackled so hard, he bent down hands-on-knees.

Yeah… Sebastian was certain at this point he fucked up. “Wait, wait,” he sighed, “I just… I don’t know who you are.”

Ezra, now recovered from his explosion of laughter, said back, “Well, my place is like a block away. If you wanna, haha, you know, hang out there.” He ended his offer with a nonchalant shrug, like it was no big deal. And it should have been no big deal.

But it was a big deal. A very, very big deal.

“Fuck. Shit. Um. Okay,” Sebastian gasped in a totally chill and not at all childish way. He pulled out his phone and rapid-fire-texted Audrey.

Sebastian, 10:14PM: so i am getting with ezra woww. this is wild. don’t worry about me tn.

Sebastian, 10:14PM: oh ezra is the hot bartender.

Sebastian, 10:15PM: also it was so nice seeing u.

He silently prayed he didn’t look like a total flake to her and Naveen, but the universe was throwing a hot piece of man at him and inhibition be damned. Sebastian was determined to have at least one successful link up with a guy since he was dumped.

Ezra placed his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and whispered into his neck, “Let’s get out of here.”

March 15th, 10:41PM

It turned out Ezra should have used a lot more emphasis on the word “like” when he said his place was “like a block away.” He must have been speaking incredibly liberally, as twenty minutes later, he and Sebastian were still walking.

Worse than that, Ezra was not very conversational. It wasn’t as bad as Naveen’s pouting in the car the last time Sebastian had taken a visit to this part of LA, but it wasn’t much less uncomfortable either.

Perhaps he was just one of those people who spoke better with actions.

Ezra’s building looked like any other house standard of the area. However, its interior revealed the house had been hacked up into a ramshackle duplex; though Sebastian knew nothing about those sorts of rules, he was certain it was not up to building code. The “walls” creating a hallway between either apartment looked like they were just canvas step-and-repeats.

“Haha, sorry, I know this place is kind of weird,” Ezra breathed apologetically. This guy had a habit of downplaying whatever he meant. “Like” a block away, “kind of” weird.

Sebastian mentally shook off his complaints. He was being difficult. This was fine. Ezra was hot. And cool. Very hot and very cool.

The first thing Sebastian realized about Ezra’s own apartment was that its air was… sticky, like the inside of a pressure cooker. Sebastian fanned himself with his hand and choked, “Is it hot in here?” That wasn’t the first half of the “...or is it just you?” pick-up line; it was blazing indoors. How was his place so hot in the middle of March this close to midnight?

“Yeah. The AC is in the other unit,” Ezra said with a heavy sigh. He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously giving Sebastian another prime look at the man’s decent bicep which pretty much wiped away any temperature concerns from his brain then and there.

Due to the Frankenstein’s-monster-ification of Ezra’s “duplex,” his apartment didn’t have much space. It was one of those places where you could stand in one spot, do a full 360, and see the entirety of it from just one spot. Blue-ish white-ish lights were stuck all around, placed in the crease between the walls and popcorn ceiling. Several psychedelic tapestries and strange, crude paintings were stuck around. “Did you paint all these?” Sebastian inquired.

Ezra shrugged. “Yeah, when I got free time.” He ambled to the bed and beckoned him over with a steady, scooping hand.

Oh.

Sebastian let out a shaky breath from his lips.

They simultaneously sat down on Ezra’s neat but humorless bed. A very-plastic looking television was situated across from it; no doubt Ezra watched it from bed.

“So,” Ezra said, “Sebastian. How are you feeling?”

Hot. Nervous. A bit confused.

“Good,” he winced back.

The bartender slipped on a cocky smirk. “You from around here?”

“Yeah. Moved around a lot in the city but always in Los Angeles,” he answered. “What about you?”

“Hah! Well, I was in Tennessee most of my life but,” Ezra put up his hands and opened them downwards as if to show himself off, “I just didn’t fit in there.” Out of nowhere, he pulled out a television remote and switched it on. He was already poking through YouTube by the time he thought it worth asking, “Anything you wanna watch?”

In his down time, Sebastian was about a third of the way through a seven part youtube video essay on the behind-the-scenes development of the Muppets… but something told him Ezra was not going to want to start watching that so he just said, “Nah.”

The bartender nodded expectantly and put on a true crime video he apparently was already part way in on. “...and he managed to claim three more victims after little Meredith,” a bright-sounding woman spoke as a picture of a blonde, eight or nine-year-old girl came up on screen.

Sebastian wasn’t sure, but for a split second, he considered if hearing the story of a serial child killer was a total mood-killer.

“Do you normally watch this sort of thing?” Sebastian asked.

“At least when I’m going to bed, yeah,” sniffed Ezra.

Wait, what?

“Are we… going to sleep?”

“Do you want to?” Ezra leaned in as he posed the question, closer to Sebastian.

“Can you drive me home in the morning?”

The man sucked in a breath. He hoarsely admitted, “I don’t really got a car.” His eyes widened apologetically.

Those black-hole eyes were sucking Sebastian in once more. He wanted more than to sleep here, he wanted to sleep with this man. Tension was building between them through eye-contact alone, expanding like a steel bubble.

A hand settled onto Sebastian’s knee; this locked his body up. Why was Sebastian so overcome with nerves? They just spent the better half of an hour making out outside of that mediocre cover band show.

It was just that Ezra’s hand, a simple gesture, felt unprecedentedly tender.

On cue, the man whispered, “How about we just chill before bed?”

Sebastian gulped. “O-Okay.” God, he felt like he was a teenager, trembling in anticipation for a round of seven minutes in heaven, throat closing up from fear.

Tentatively, he put his own hand the first place he could think of, on top of Ezra’s hand. Sebastian tried to preemptively apologize for the awkward move with a crooked grin, but it seems Ezra was into it. The bartender let out a warm exhale and pecked Sebastian’s cheek. “You’re so cute,” he uttered in that familiar, hushed tone.

Coming from such a specimen so far out of his league, Sebastian took that as way more than just a simple compliment.

The murder monologue ended and transitioned into more of Ezra’s recommended videos. A series of dainty, deep notes from what sounded like a keyboard sang from the TV. Ezra’s eyes brightened. A soulful, husky voice purred soon after. As she sang, trumpets blew in with her voice. It sounded like a song from the 60s, one of his favorite eras of music.

It was spectacular, but even more interesting to Sebastian, it was spectacular music Sebasian didn’t recognize.

“Who is this?” he implored.

Ezra blinked a few times. “What? You’re kidding.” He pointed to the television; the youtube video just showed an album cover of a doe-eyed blonde resting her head on her hands. “It’s Dusty Springfield, Don’t Forget About Me?” Ezra stated, rather defensively.

The song warmed up the tightness in Sebastian’s throat.

Oh this album was definitely in his collection. It wasn’t every day someone else could show Sebastian new music he wound up loving; shit, it hardly happened once a year. Needless to say, Ezra was now melting down Sebastian’s heart to the wick.

“This is really good,” Sebastian hummed.

“Oh yeah?” the man returned, “Is this really good?” He wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s waist, pulling them next to each other on the bed.

“Yes…” Sebastian whimpered.

Okay, to put things bluntly, clothes came off. And jesus, Ezra had a nice chest. A great set of shoulders. Damn he was hot! And cool! Sebastian really only ever got to this stage with Emile; it wasn’t like you could get to third base making out in the shadows with strangers. His breath kept quivering; Ezra put his palm on his back and shushed him protectively. Their bodies writhed around each other curiously as night trekked on.

How did this happen so easily?

It was like he was completely blindsided by this… this… fantasy!

He needed answers. And holy shit, if was gonna get them, he really needed Ezra to stop doing that with his hips.

“St-Stop,” Sebastian gasped. He was mounted on top of Ezra, who was now laid back on his mattress, legs bent onto the floor. His fingers steadied himself on top of Ezra’s firm, pale chest.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Do you want to switch?”

“No, no, this is fine,” assured Sebastian.

Except Ezra was already peeling Sebastian off of him. “It’s totally cool, look, I’m verse,” he explained as he rotated his body around.

Goddamn, and this guy was verse? This really was a fantasy come to real life, way too good for even a story on television.

He probably shouldn’t have, but Sebastian wheezed out, “I don’t want to fuck this up. Why’re we here?”

“Oh,” breathed Ezra. He propped himself up and put a hand on Sebastian’s face. “Because I like you, Sebastian.” His words echoed hollowly in the room, with only the low notes of another Dusty Springfield song to fill in the silence.

A golden warmth glinted inside Sebastian. It started in his lungs, then pulsed through him with each pump of blood. Ezra liked Sebastian. That was an admission right there. This was happening. And holy shit, this guy was so hot. And so damn cool.

Sebastian spilled into Ezra, then. More controlled, more honest, more eager…

Things happened. Let’s just say that.

Ezra pulled on a pair of shorts that were tucked under the bed frame when said things were finished. He turned his attention away from Sebastian, keeping a steady gaze into dead space.

Sebastian laid back on the bed and caught his breath. The glow clouding his mind meant he’d hardly noticed Ezra’s sudden emotional cooldown. It wasn’t until Sebastian spoke up again did the bartender snap out of his haze.

“Still all good for me to stay here?” Sebastian checked.

Ezra didn’t move his head. “If you want.”

“...okay… I do.” He couldn’t wipe the dorky smile off his face.

Rather stiffly, Ezra swiveled his body around on the mattress. He turned so his back faced Sebastian once he laid down. The lights were still on. The television was still shuffling through Ezra’s YouTube feed, now back to gruesome true crime videos.

Why didn’t Ezra shut them off?

“Um… do you want me to turn off your lights?” offered Sebastian.

“Nah,” Ezra mused. “Having lights on while I sleep stimulates my brain. So I get better rest with ‘em on.”

That totally sounded scientifically false, but also, Sebastian studied music production in college, not sleep psychology, so he held his tongue.

“Should I shut off YouTube, though?”

“I fall asleep to this, so ‘s all good.”

Okay, what the fuck? How could anyone sleep with all that light and sound?

But if Sebastian asked Ezra to shut it all down, he’d be acting difficult. If he acted difficult, Ezra was sure to lose interest and find someone else with far less maintenance. Sebastian needed to be smart here, or else he’d fuck up what he’d barely just got a hold of between he and Ezra.

Pensively, he lay on his back, like a corpse, next to Ezra

The ceiling bled in a multi-colored haze. Colors swam above indifferently.

Minutes passed by. Maybe hours. Sebastian was trying to keep track of the time through the runtime of each YouTube video that rolled by. They seemed to be getting more and more sad as they progressed. By the time Sebastian had listened to the entirety of a story detailing a woman who drowned her infant son with a cinderblock, then followed suit herself, he couldn’t bear it anymore. He broke and cursed himself internally the entire time.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sebastian breathed. He pulled himself off the mattress. “I… I can’t sleep. I think I’ll head home.”

Ezra made a quiet, drowsy mumble. It was something like “Have a good night,” Sebastian was pretty sure. That sounded like something Ezra would say. After all, this guy was cool. And hot! So, so hot.

Clothes fully on, Sebastian dragged his feet. Midway through his departure, standing in the doorway, he looked over his shoulder, hoping to catch a groggy glance from the hunk laying in bed. However, it looked like Ezra was soundly asleep.

It was fine. They exchanged numbers along the way to his apartment; Sebastian would call him in the morning. Or in the afternoon, he didn’t want to be clingy. He needed to get home, though.

Wait. Shit. Naveen drove him out here tonight. Sebastian didn’t have his car.

What time was it?

He pulled out his phone.

1:15AM?!

Well, even if he were willing to drive back and pick him up at a regular time, Sebastian was certain Naveen wasn’t going to be awake to come here at this time of night. Or morning, technically speaking.

Who else did he know?

• Audrey? She was probably with Naveen, so, a given “no” as well.

• Miles? Yikes. Not opening that can of worms.

• Kate? She’d probably do Sebastian the favor, actually, if she weren’t in fucking Coeur d’Alene or wherever.

• Stef? Well, he couldn’t call her. It was Saturday now. It was her birthday. What a terrible way to wake up--

Wait. Double shit. It was Stef’s birthday. He was scheduled to meet his estranged father in like, ten hours.

“Fuck!” Sebastian spat to no one. He was now standing outside of Ezra’s ramshackle duplex. A chilling breeze kicked up beneath him, freezing his skin.

He could download one of those rideshare apps; he didn’t have Uber or Lyft readily available on his phone because, with these past few weeks as an exception, he rarely went out to even need them in the first place. Did his phone even have the bars for downloading those?

Maybe the bus? The train? Shit, were they even running this late?

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

Another gust of wind blasted him.

He checked his maps app on his phone to see how long of a walk it was back to his place.

“Six hours?!” he yelped.

There was no way he could make that walk. He’d have hardly any sleep before he’d need to be out at Stef’s. And there was no weaseling his way out of her birthday. Not this late, anyway.

But walking was the only other option, wasn’t it?

He moved his feet.

Streetlights winked like guiding lighthouses down the road. Sebastian followed along a series power lines; each of the wooden posts were spackled with paper-mache paste, remnants of flyers stapled on them over the years. As he trekked, his neck went slack and tilted his head upward. Stars tore the rich black canvas above like bullet holes, and the crescent moon hung like an exceptionally-offensive silver gash.

This wasn’t going to work. Sebastian would probably pass out from exhaustion before actually reaching back home. Maybe he could just keep on his way to the apartment, wait until dawn seeped into the sky, and then call Naveen at a less obnoxious hour for a ride home.

Yeah. That was a good idea; at least, it was the best Sebastian had.

He turned his attention forward. Bleary-eyed, something caught his attention. It was just a street sign -- Palms Boulevard -- so why did it appear so familiar?

Shit.

Wait. There was one other option. But he didn’t like it.

Sebastian’s fingers squirmed through his contacts list on his phone.

There it is.

One dial.

No answer. Of course he wasn’t to pick up. Like a normal person, he’d be asleep by now, even if it were Friday night.

Two dials.

No answer. What was Sebastian even thinking? Should he explain why he was stranded an hour’s drive home in the middle of the night? Or would that make things even worse?

Three dials.

No answer. Fuck it, he needed to hang up. There was no way anything good would--

“...Hello?” a groggy voice croaked over the phone.

No turning back.

“Hey, Emile,” Sebastian hushed, “I really need your help.”