Playlist - 7. Track 7) Marigold - Jelani Aryeh

March 8th, 7:15PM

The faint smell of turmeric and curry welcomed Miles and Sebastian in the apartment.

“Mmm,” Miles hummed to himself, placing his record and paper bag of edibles by the door, “Who’s been cooking?”

“No one! Just take-out!” a familiar female voice called from the living room.

There on the couch sat Audrey and Naveen, with mostly-empty bowls of Indian food. Naveen had his arm around Audrey’s shoulder, and Audrey, who was now quarter-turned to face Sebastian and Miles, had her hand on a TV remote. She paused what looked to be some sort of anime (apparently one, if not both of them, were into that sort of thing) and flashed an encouraging smile. “Sebastian,” she hummed, “Who is this?”

Before Sebastian could get a word in, Miles burst forward and opened up his arms. “I’m Miles,” he introduced. “You live with Sebastian?” There was a touch more disbelief in his voice than what Sebastian would have liked.

Naveen lazily tossed the hand he had on Audrey up and said, “Nope, that would be me.” Naveen threw Sebastian a confused furrow of his eyebrow.

Sebastian just let out a deep sigh: his best way of silently saying “I’ll explain later.” He did manage to say their names to Miles before the musician immediately took the reins on the conversation once more.

“You are absolutely stunning, Audrey,” Miles exclaimed. He scurried over to the only other free seat in the living area, leaving Sebastian awkwardly standing a few feet away.

“Well, thank you,” she returned. “Sebastian, what’s brought you and Miles here?”

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. How could he explain this when, frankly, he was still swinging back and forth on how he felt about Miles. “This is my client I told you about earlier,” he said with a roll of his hand. “We’re going out.”

Audrey immediately brightened. Even Naveen twitched in slight interest.

“Not like that,” he spat.

Miles made a face.

“Not that it’d be such a bad thing if we were, I mean!” God, Sebastian was seriously fucking up what little charm he probably had left.

Miles brushed it aside with a brisk wave of his fingers. “We’re heading to Shout, tonight,” he explained.

“Is that not a gay bar?” That was Naveen. His voice pinched a hair higher.

“Trying something new, are we?” beamed Audrey.

Sebastian crossed his arms indignantly. Why the hell were these two so goddamn interested?

Then a second thought hit him; he was really worried about what he just got himself into. Multiple times this past week he’d said he wasn’t ready for such a leap forward. Nowhere else had as many self-assured gay people than a gay bar. At least, none that he could think of. Shit, he was basically going to be completely alone in a mass of people who knew themselves, and there was little chance Miles was going to provide any assistance.

“Do you two want to come?” he blurted out. His eyes immediately darted to Miles. “If, you know, that’s alright?”

Miles concurred, “Anywhere with this queen seems like a hell of a good time.”

Audrey bit her lip and lowered an eyebrow. “Um, I don’t know…”

Oh come on. She couldn’t pride Sebastian in getting out there and not show up for support. He absolutely needed her.

“We just got started on Full Metal Alchemist.” Naveen pointed at the television screen.

“Plus, tonight he finally called me his girlfriend,” Audrey added.

“No, you finally called me your boyfriend,” he retorted.

Well, they clearly weren’t going anywhere. Which meant Sebastian was leaping into the fire alone. Or was it two fires? Sebastian couldn’t decide what he dreaded more: figuring out how to “be” in a gay bar or figuring out how exactly he was feeling about Miles.

Miles stuck out his bottom lip and cooed, “Aw, so cute.” Then, with determination, he turned to Sebastian and said, “Meanwhile, this one needs to get changed. I’m not having you looking a fool your first time coming out to a gay bar.” That was probably meant as encouragement. Probably.

So, off they went into Sebastian’s room. He fully expected Miles to be a terror; Sebastian was sure that they were going to have one of those movie montages where he'd try on a million different outfits and Miles would disapprove of every single one. He already knew that nothing in his closet (or on the floor) matched Miles’s eclectic fashion sense. However, much to Sebastian’s shock, Miles seemed comfortable with stepping outside his own taste of fashion.

In fact, the person who was actually taking up the most amount of time was Sebastian. Just because Miles wasn’t being difficult, didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be. Thirty minutes went by of trying on clothes and immediately hating whatever he put on. Everything just felt wrong. He didn’t dress for nights out, especially for nights out to show off.

“No, no, this isn’t right either,” Sebastian hissed, unbuttoning a black shirt that he normally loved wearing. Emile had even said it was one of his most complimentary pieces of clothing to Seabstian’s style.

Miles crossed his arms. “Boy, you are way too tightly wound for this, huh?”

“Fuck you,” he glowered back. “I’m nervous.”

The musician only batted his brilliant eyes in response, then drifted in Sebastian’s closet.

Out came a pair of dark wash, almost-indigo jeans with a tear in one knee and an oversized polo Sebastian hadn’t worn since university. It was both obnoxiously simple and totally perfect; not “trying too hard” but something that still felt like his natural attire.

However, all Sebastian could manage was an indignant grumble as he swiped the clothes from Miles’s hands.

“I’m gonna find us an Uber while you go change. Try to leave all the bitching and moaning here, okay?” Miles teased. He tapped the side of Sebastian’s face (which certainly did not make Sebastian feel all mushy inside) and opened the bedroom door. On his way out, he called back, “And you’re welcome!”

---

 

March 8th, 8:58PM

The ride to Shout was tame, thankfully. Miles seemed to be preoccupied in the front seat bragging to their Uber driver about his upcoming EP (“Special thanks to this one back there!”). This left Sebastian to stew in his own anxiety silently. Each stoplight they’d be stuck at added seconds to his impending doom. He knew that the pacing to this was all wrong; he wasn’t ready for a gay bar. He was hardly ready for being gay. That was why the only real relationship he ever had failed. Emile just didn’t want to be around someone who couldn’t accept his own sexuality. Sebastian’s internal monologue scolded himself for being like that with Emile, as if now he were any more resolved in being gay (which he wasn’t.)

By the time they had arrived to Shout, which Sebastian reasoned was somewhere around West Hollywood because of course it was, a decently-sized line stretched out from the entrance. Each patron’s face seemed to blend together: a chain of moderately-attractive, twenty-somethings, obscured by the shadow of the awning overhead. However, at the end of the line, stood three men that caught Miles’s attention.

“Hello there!” Miles sang to them.

One of them immediately broke from the line and leapt into a massive hug with Miles. He actually just slightly reminded Sebastian of Miles, except slightly shorter, slightly lighter-skinned, and instead of Miles’s flashy somewhat androgynous appearance, this guy had feminine flair cranked up high. He also had much longer hair, with a haphazard topknot on his scalp. “Hi there, little lion!” the stranger beamed.

“Hey!” returned Miles. He let go of their hug and waved his hand to Sebastian. “Davonte, this is Sebastian. He’s been working with me on the EP,” he explained, then leaned in close to the man and stage-whispered, “He’s a baby gay.”

Sebastian shifted his weight from one foot to the other and managed a feeble hand wave. Davonte clutched Sebastian’s palm with both of his hands and leaned in close. He off-puttingly searched through Sebastian’s eyes and queried, “What are you, a Gemini? Capricorn?”

“I’m a Cancer… I think?” Sebastian offered back.

“Oh yeah, very Cancer vibes. You know your Moon and Rising?”

Davonte might as well have been speaking Romanian to him.

The animated man giggled, “Doesn’t matter. I’m a Leo just like my bestie over there.” He and Miles wiggled their fingers at each other.

“Naturally,” Sebastian agreed, just to keep the conversation moving.

They all filed in line back with Davonte to meet the other two strangers. “Happy birthday to you!” Miles drew out gleefully. He went in for a hug with a short, baby-faced redhead and a slight paunch to his belly.

“Thank you,” the young man cheered. He glanced at Sebastian. “Is this the one you said you were bringing?”

“Mm, this is Sebastian.”

“Joey,” the redhead smiled. “Did you get me a present?”

Sebastian patted himself down instinctively. Why didn’t he think to bring a gift? Shit. Sure he didn’t know the guy, but damn, how rude of him not to show up with a present.

“I’m kidding,” Joey chided.

The last of Miles’s friends had already turned his attention to Davonte upon his return. The man was staggeringly tall and, compared to the rest of them, was eerily nondescript. Not exactly plain looking, but still had a modest appearance nevertheless. Sebastian thought he looked a lot like the painter Jean-Michel Basquiat, but with a smattering of facial hair on his chin. That might have just been because of his mother’s influence; she was always an appreciator of the visual arts.

Davonte clasped the tall man’s hand and introduced him. “Sebastian, this is my boyfriend Kareem.”

Sebastian gave a head nod to him and the man gave one back, uttering, “‘Sup.”

“So, um,” Sebastian obligingly said as the line began to move up, “How old are you turning, Joey?”

“23. I’m the baby of the group.”

Miles scoffed, “Babe, you’re three years younger than me.”

“Yeah. You’re practically middle aged,” he volleyed back.

“He thinks he’s so funny,” Miles tittered to Sebastian, grasping his shoulder. He felt warmth go straight from Miles’s fingers through his shirt. And Miles’s smile, oh wow, it was radiant in the violet glow coming out from the bar.

“You ever been to a gay bar?” Joey asked Sebastian.

“...No,” he admitted.

“I hadn’t for a while, either.”

“Is it anything like what I’d seen on TV?” Most of the portrayals Sebastian had seen of gay bars were way-too-loud, way-too-bright, and had gay men stuffed against each other like a tin of sardines.

Joey stroked his chin, as if he had a beard to pensively pull at. “Um… I’m… honestly not sure how to answer that.”

Kareem let out a harrumph. “Definitely a lot like what I think they put on TV,” he said with a concerningly cryptic tone.

Miles’s face wavered and chided, “It’ll be fine, Kareem. Plus, it’s Joey’s birthday! We’re here to celebrate!”

“I’m just here to make out with someone’s face,” Joey determined with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Over Sebastian’s shoulder, Davonte playfully called back, “So am I, love!” He then pulled down Kareem and gave him a loud smooch on the cheek.

The line continued to shuffle forward at an achingly slow rate. This was even worse to Sebastian than a traffic jam. At least during traffic jams, he could play music. The only thing he was able to tune his ears to was the loud thud of a blown out speaker from inside and scraps of conversation from the rest of the people waiting around him.

He’d hoped for some assurance from Naveen and Audrey, but instead, they had decided to throw him to the sharks tonight. Fuck, he even hoped for some from Miles. But he seemed annoyingly stuck in his own world. How fucking convenient.

Out of nowhere, the dark voice of Kareem piped up. “Miles said you’re new to the scene?” he offered casually.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah. I am.”

“So was I,” he explained. “Davonte and I were… uh… we were dating for a long-ass time before I could get myself to these places.”

Okay, Kareem was hitting a bit too close to home, which caused an exasperated nose-laugh to involuntarily escape from Sebastian. Unfortunately, Kareem had seemed to notice that and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Sebastian apologized. “Not laughing at you. Just, well, I just know the feeling.” He decided not to bring up his whole mess with Emile. This wasn’t the time to be dwelling on that. Still, now the image of his ex-boyfriend’s boy-next-door face started to form in his mind. Ugh. Sebastian felt like he was going to puke and he hadn’t even had a drop of alcohol yet.

Finally, at the front of the line, an indifferent looking bouncer made a cursory look over their motley crew. He met eyes with Sebastian and grunted, “Cover’s twenty.”

Before Sebastian could even pull out his wallet, the breathy voice of Miles spoke, “I’ll cover it.” His dark hand passed a folded bill to the bouncer. Wait, was that the half-cropped face of Ben Franklin?

“Miles!” squeaked Sebastian. He was splurging for what?

Though the bouncer didn’t seem to be impressed. He simply shrugged his shoulders and jerked his head to the front door.

Miles brushed his arm against Sebastian’s and gave a charming wink to him, which Sebastian suspected was meant to be conciliatory. Instead, it just made his heart flutter.

As they entered Shout, Sebastian felt another wave of panic. The place felt much like a parody of what little glimpses of gay bars TV showed.

Zipping electronic music blasted Sebastian’s ears. It was that kind of music that leaned more on “sound effects” rather than “music.” It caused the hairs on the back of his neck to pinch up. The entire bar was awash in strobe lights. A half dozen television screens surrounded the place, all displaying videos of, well, in the gentlest way Sebastian would describe it, gay pornography. The actual bar, already crowded with a slew of half-drunk homosexuals, was tended by a pair of mostly naked men who were so musclebound, they looked like they lived off of a diet of pure clenbuterol.

Shout almost seemed like it was trying to prove something. Whoever designed the place must have been compensating for something.

Sebastian sensed someone grab his hand. He frantically whipped his head towards their direction— it was Miles. “This is fun!” he screamed over the music, “We’re going to have fun!”

“Let’s go outside!” Davonte ordered, waving his hands about as if he were trying to corral the entirety of their party.

As he was taller than pretty much everyone there, Kareem quite literally frowned down at the rest of the patrons in Shout. Nevertheless, he followed, as their group scampered towards a hazy black door labeled “Patio” (with a dick Sharpie’d just below it).

All of the drunk people half-dancing, half-shuffling to the ear-blasting electronic music didn’t seem to notice Sebastian and co. One man straight up elbowed him in the lung and didn’t even apologize; he hardly even gave Sebastian a second glance.

He wasn’t sure if it was the overwhelming energy causing his breath to feel raw and constricted, or if it was the throbbing pain from the shot to his ribs. Either way, Sebastian was relieved to be back outside after his five minute foray through the bar.

There were far less people out on the wooden patio. A few were smoking cigarettes in the corner, which gave the area a slightly ashy smell. Their feet all made gentle clip-clop noises on the boards beneath them. They all settled in a spot near the door.

Davonte crossed his arms and tossed his long, black hair. “I knew it’d be like this,” he groaned.

“Mm,” his partner grunted in agreement.

Joey rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, guys—”

Miles put an open palm up in the young man’s face. He put his other hand on Davonte’s chest, as if to separate Joey and him from a non-existent fight. “Nuh-uh. No, it’s your birthday. We’ll cope tonight.”

Davonte snapped, “Yeah, maybe after we get us some drinks.”

“I’ll go get us some!” the birthday boy said chipperly. It was endearing to see how eager to please Joey was even on his own birthday, perhaps because in another life, Sebastian would be just the same way.

“Then I’ll help carry,” Miles placidly offered. He acted like a UN Ambassador or something, which Sebastian totally didn’t find attractive. Not in the least. And his heartbeat totally didn’t kick into overdrive when Miles flashed a signature smile his way. “We’ll be back soon,” the musician crooned.

Just like that, Sebastian found himself third-wheeling with Kareem and Davonte: a couple he knew virtually nothing about. His discomfort must have been completely visible, as they made curious faces at him.

“What?” he yipped.

“You all good?” Davonte questioned.

“Of course I’m fine,” Sebastian hissed through his teeth. “I could ask you the same thing!”

Apparently, his tone was a bit too pointed, as both Davonte and his boyfriend gave a surprised but somehow impressed raise of their eyebrows.

He immediately opened his mouth to apologize, but Davonte spoke up. “I get it, I get it. It’s cool, Sebastian. Your first time at a gay bar, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, most bars aren’t lookin’ like this, okay?” Davonte turned his palms upwards and circled them around to the few other strangers out on the patio.

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know, the bar was way more crowded indoors.”

This made Kareem snort. He huffed, “Nah man. You haven’t noticed we’re the only drops of color in this whole ocean tonight?” and leaned against the wall to the bar.

Sebastian blinked. He hardly could process a single face of anyone in Shout because of the absolute sensory-overload he bore through.

“Not true,” Davonte mockingly chimed, “I definitely saw one Asian guy in there.”

Kareem gave a “I told you so” look, complete with a subtly-smarmy smile and chuckled, “Don’t know how in Los Angeles of all cities there’s still places like this, but Shout finds a way.”

“I honestly haven’t paid much attention to the crowd here,” said Sebastian. That wasn’t totally a lie. Sebastian was certainly worried about what the fuck he was supposed to be doing at Shout tonight, but he was so stuck in his own head, he hardly had the mental capacity to process any of the people inside.

“Good,” Davonte grunted. “‘Cause I’m worried you’re just gonna be someone’s fetish here and I don’t want you exposed to that so soon.”

Fetish? Whose fetish?

Why did it feel like everyone was speaking in code here? Sebastian wished they stuck to Drag Race slang; at least that he had a reasonable understanding of.

A THUD came from the other side of the patio door, and out poured Joey and Miles, with several cups wobbling in their grasp. “We’re back!” Miles announced. Kareem dutifully took two immediately, then handed one of them to his boyfriend.

“I asked them to put double shots in these,” Joey explained.

Miles handed one of the drinks to Sebastian. “I hope you can handle your liquor,” he taunted.

Sebastian gulped and stared into the dark liquid inside his drink. It smelled sweet and rich, but with the unmistakable burn of rum — most likely well rum and not some top shelf shit, so its scent was extra potent. He slowly turned the drink in a circle, letting the thin pair of straws in the cup fall from one side to the other. “Uh, what’s in it?”

“Rum and coke,” Davonte said, half-like he was guessing and half-like he already knew.

“It’s what he always gets,” Miles explained with a jerk of his head towards Joey.

Joey retorted, “No complaining on my birthday!” and then proceeded to chug half of his drink like it was water. Sebastian stifled a giggle thinking back to the griping conversation going on moments before he and Miles returned.

Somehow Miles must have inexplicably read his mind again, because just then, he scooched an inch closer to Sebastian. He didn’t stumble back and fall like in the studio (though he totally wobbled his balance just a smidge). Tentatively, Sebastian looked into the musician’s dazzling eyes.

“So,” Miles drew out, “How are you?”

God, how many times was someone going to ask him something like that tonight?

Robotically, he answered, “Fine.”

Then the two fell quiet. Sebastian recalled the silence they awkwardly shared in the car earlier that day, which made guilt creep up his spine. He didn't want to become so stiff with Miles; when he wasn’t driving him crazy, Sebastian really did begin to enjoy his company. Plus, there was the whole fact that Miles was the only person he actually knew in the bar.

“So,” Sebastian reflected, “How are you?”

Miles wiggled his shoulders. “I’m feeling good baby!”

“Are you… comfortable here?”

“What do you mean? Oh, don’t tell me Kareem and them were getting all bothered about today’s crowd.”

Sebastian took another swig of his rum and coke.

Miles rolled his eyes. “I refuse to let it bother me. No one here pays attention to us anyways, why am I gonna give them mine?”

“Hm.” That was an interesting way of looking at it. Though, Sebastian couldn’t believe anyone was immune to Miles’s majestic magnetism.

Suddenly, the grinding electronic music from inside Shout shifted towards something more like RnB, with a deep and welcoming bass booming through the door.

“Ooh-hooooo, shit!” Davonte clamored. He plopped his drink into his boyfriend’s hand, grabbed Joey’s hands, and alerted, “They’re playing good shit! They are playing good shit!”

Joey’s face looked both excited and overwhelmed. Sebastian could practically see the cartoon sweat line dropping down the side of his temple.

“Girl, we are dancing. Now!” the flamboyant man declared. He pulled in Joey with one hand and freed the other to yank Miles over. “Let’s go!”

Joey wooted, “Finally!”

In a whirlwind, the majority of the group escaped back into the bar’s interior, leaving Kareem alone with Sebastian… neither seemed unwilling to be stirred to break the remaining silence. Sebastian suddenly found the contents of his cup a lot more interesting to look at than the stranger before him. However, after a quick and mindless count of the carbonated bubbles inside, Sebastian heard a creak from the patio door again.

Miles popped out and called, “Sebastian, get your ass in here and dance with me!”

“Uh…” Sebastian looked back at Kareem. The man just shrugged as if to say he’d be in there shortly.

“Boy, quit standing there like a lamppost and come on!” He reached out a hand to Sebastian.

If he waited a second more, the moment would pass. Yet time felt so slow, staring at Miles’s slender fingers stretching towards him. It felt like he was pushing his own arm through maple syrup, but as soon as their palms touched, Miles reeled him in through the door.

---

 

March 8th, 9:45PM

Somehow, Shout became even more wild and rambunctious. Or perhaps it just felt that way to Sebastian now that he was about halfway through his double-rum and coke.

Miles actually dragged him through the crowd. The song, which Sebastian for once did not recognize, seemed not to resonate with most of the people in attendance. Most of the people just awkwardly swayed to the intense rhythm or carried on with their conversations. That is, except for Joey and Davonte. They were rapping along to rapid-fire verse on the track with their heads jutting towards each other, as if they were in friendly competition. Without missing a beat, Miles jumped right in and barked the words alongside them.

In that moment, Sebastian swore he was somehow watching himself from the imaginary studio audience; he was stiffly moving his head along the beat, less-dancing and more-walking around in time with the music, and trying so hard to relax his face that he overcompensated to looking like he was holding in a fart.

He wished he could throw tomatoes at himself.

The others around them, half-heartedly bobbing their bodies on the offbeat, caught Sebastian’s eye for the first time.

Kareem and Davonte were right; the crowd was extremely white. However, that wasn’t exactly what began to work Sebastian’s anxiety into overdrive, no.

They all looked like Emile. Or, at least like various stunt doubles to Emile if he were ever in a movie. Some were more solidly muscular, others with longer or darker hair, but overall, they appeared like ghosts from Sebastian’s week-old breakup. Suggestions of Emile, and they were all, just like his ex, totally showing no interest in Sebastian.

Eugh, was he really that rancid looking?

Meanwhile, Miles was dancing like all eyes were on him and like he truly didn’t care. Graceful and strong. Poised yet powerful. Somehow he was able to make crumping in the club seem distinguished. Miles felt like a dream, like he was completely outside of all the things Sebastian expected for this new world he walked into. Perhaps, more than an archetype.

Miles rotated his rear towards Sebastian, which made him uncomfortably avert his gaze to one of the various sexually-explicit television screens around him.

Another sip of alcohol. He was nearly out. He felt it a bit, though. Was he really such a lightweight?

Song switch.

God, he couldn’t hear anything.

What song was this? He knew it, he knew it, that one guy did the remix to it.

Wait, are people looking at him?

He was totally embarrassing himself.

All these men were nothing like him; they all knew what they wanted!

Who was he fooling?

This is why he didn’t take risks. The characters in TV had way better luck than him. He didn’t even just bad luck, no. This was his lot in life. He was just a stupid fucking idiot actor around other people, trying to follow along the rhythm to a song he couldn’t hear. That’s why no one here cared to see him. That’s why Miles already lost whatever possible interest he had. They all saw right through his phony ass—

“HEY!!!” a loud voice blared through the music. Sebastian reeled his ear back. It was Miles.

He clutched Sebastian’s bicep and forced a smile, then took either one of Sebastian’s hands so that the two faced each other. Miles took the lead to the new song, kicking each of his feet on the floor, with Sebastian doing his best to keep up as the alcohol started to hit him.

This did feel good. Miles’s gravitational pull was even more intoxicating than whatever drink the bar could make.

“You actually got some rhythm to you!” Miles giggled over the music. His voice sounded muffled, like he was underwater.

“Thank you!” Sebastian said back.

Davonte came up and made an approving face. “Okay, let’s get it!” he cheered. As the music sped up, Sebastian watched Davonte and Miles slide and dip simultaneously, like they choreographed the whole thing and he wasn’t invited for practice. His moment with the musician went as quickly as it started.

“Where’s Joey?” he absentmindedly asked.

Davonte batted his hand over towards the bar. Sebastian followed the gesture and saw that Joey managed to have one of the bartender’s tongues down his throat. In fact, several people in their vicinity were making out with each other.

“Everyone’s getting action but me!” he cried as if he were kidding around, but embarrassment burned into his chest. He wished Naveen and Audrey were with him; though, they’d probably be making out with each other, too. Sebastian was just cursed to be alone.

Davonte clasped his hands together. “Speaking of, where’s my man?”

“I-I’ll go get him!” Sebastian cried. He thanked the universe for getting him an “out.”

Without even turning to Miles, he scurried back through the crowd. He shut his eyes and pressed onwards.

When he opened them, Sebastian was prying open the patio door once more. Nothing really seemed much different than when he left, but he’d only been inside Shout for all of three songs, so that wasn’t any surprise. What was a surprise was seeing Kareem standing exactly where he was when Sebastian was pulled into the bar minutes earlier. His eyes were lazily set on the road outside Shout. It was like the guy was in stasis.

The only thing that did change about the patio was its occupancy. Perhaps fifteen or so more men had come outside, but they were all crowding around each other towards other parts of the patio; it made Kareem look totally ousted or something.

“‘Sup,” Kareem greeted.

Sebastian tensed his shoulders and inched a few steps forward. “You’ve just been here alone?”

“You ain’t the only one who gets nervous around bars,” he countered matter-of-factly. He flicked his attention towards a trio of 40-somethings smoking cigarettes, as if to give his eyes a break from staring out at the city street on the other side of the patio.

“I’m doing fine,” Sebastian lied.

Kareem snorted. Was this becoming a pattern? Getting amused by Sebastian?

“Man,” the tall man sighed, “So you and Miles work together?”

“Something like that.”

“Yeah, it’s always just ‘something’ like that.”

Sebastian blinked. “Have you two worked together?”

“We didn’t work together, man,” Kareem poetically fumed. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Davonte now but…” the tall man adjusted his posture so that Sebastian was quite literally standing in his shadow, “Don’t get yourself hurt.”

It couldn’t be that obvious Sebasitan had a growing interest in Miles. No way.

But it was.

A long sigh escaped Kareem’s mouth. He leaned back against the wood rail surrounding the patio and dipped his head. “You don’t wanna go chasing after people that only remind you of who you wanna be,” he lamented and affixed his eyes once more towards the men swarmed away from them.

Sebastian just scoffed and leaned forward on the railing next to Kareem so that, though right beside each other, they faced opposite ways. The unsanded wood scratched at his bare forearms.

What felt like an hour passed by.

The street before them was awash in subtle violet light from the bar’s interior bleeding through its windows. Scarlet shards of glass littered the road, catching the purple hue welcomingly. These colors felt so strange to Sebastian. This night seemed so out of place and now, the plot was askew.

Where was he?

“You might not get it, but I think you’re a lot like me. How I was,” commented Kareem.

Sebastian stiffened a bit. “Wha- You’ve just met me,” he rebuked. He was not also about to be read like a book from this guy, too; Miles was more than enough.

But, of course, Kareem was ready to read out a passage anyway. He even gave a subtle squint towards Sebastian, like he was really trying to get down to the fine print.

“Fresh outta the closet. Bet you hardly had any real contact with another man. You showed up here because that’s what all the other gay guys here are doing, no doubt followin’ along with Miles’s dumb ass. Pretty much the same for me a few years back. But you ain’t gotta do all that,” Kareem lectured. “You may not ever see me again. You probably ain’t gonna see most of the people in this bar again. So lemme tell you something I wish someone told me when I was trying to figure out being gay.”

Kareem actually stooped forward a bit to meet Sebastian at eye-level. Like a proverb, he uttered, “Being gay is dope. Being yourself is even dope-r.”

It sounded like a remixed version of Emile’s last words to Sebastian.

Sebastian’s palms slicked with drops of sweat. The weird sage advice he was getting should have been a good moment for him, like it is in every coming-of-age story ever, but shit, in real life moments like this were incredibly uncomfortable to live through. Like it shouldn’t be happening, especially not for him. He was way too old for a bildungsroman.

“Fine, I’ll go back in. That what you want to hear?” Sebastian acquiesced.

“Doesn’t matter what I want to hear.”

“Ugh. I am going back in,” Sebastian decided. “But you didn’t have to go all… gay Yoda on me.”

“Alright Star Wars, you have a good one,” the man cackled back. “Aye, and tell Davonte to get his ass back out here!”

Shit. That was why Sebastian came out to the patio in the first place: to get Kareem.

On cue, Davonte barreled through the door, nearly tripping onto himself before Kareem caught him. Davonte somehow got hammered in an incredibly short amount of time. His grin was lax and loose.

“Baby, you’re drunk,” Kareem said immediately.

“I know,” Davonte whined back, “Girl, I’m sooo drunk.”

“‘Girl’ I’mma make sure your ass gets a good night’s sleep, still,’ Kareem declared. Then, to Sebastian, he grunted, “You have fun.”

“Yeah, have fun! But not so much fun you’re like me!” Davonte whooped like a cheerleader. He hoisted himself around his boyfriend’s torso and pulled himself up to smooch his cheek.

It was cute. They were very sweet together, yeah, whatever. He tried his best not to feel bitter about their happiness and (mostly) succeeded.

When Sebastian came inside, a dozen strangers were all singing “Happy Birthday” completely off-key. Through all the Emile-clones, he could see Joey perched on top of the bar, holding up a double shot glass like the Statue of Liberty held up her torch. “I’m so happy!” he whooped.

Oh he was totally going to be hungover tomorrow morning.

Sebastian grinned to himself.

“That’s a cute smile,” an unfamiliar voice commented through the darkness.

It was a man. Not much older than Sebastian. He didn’t look much like Emile, thank god. Still, he just looked like another normal, moderately-attractive white man in a bar.

So why did he make Sebastian’s soul crawl?

“You alone tonight?” the stranger questioned. But he didn’t wait for an answer. He tapped at the multitude of piercings along Sebastian’s right ear. “Que rico,” he breathed. Sebastian could smell the guy’s fourth or fifth drink lurking on his breath. “Nice to see someone like you here.”

“Like me?” Sebastian asked.

The guy fell forward onto Sebastian’s chest, either on purpose or just because the man was so wasted he couldn’t keep his balance. He didn’t seem to even notice he had, instead he just remarked, “You’re cute.”

Sebastian wanted to peel him off. Something was wrong here. “Um. Thanks.” He opened his mouth to say more. To tell him to get off. Why couldn’t he say anything? Shit, it’s because this was exactly what should be happening. Someone was hitting on him, and he couldn’t just wimp out because all this new shit was making him scared. This was a test. He needed to pass. He absolutely needed to pass.

“What’s your name?” the man asked in Sebastian’s ear, so now he couldn’t even see his face.

“Sebastian.”

He didn’t offer his name back. “You’re cute, Sebastian.”

Yeah, he’d already said that.

“Latino boys don’t normally come around here,” he spat. It sounded like he was angry about it, yet in a different way from Davonte’s previous irritation.

Pass the test.

“Why’s that?”

Just pass the test.

“Does it matter?”

Pass the fucking test!

“What do you—”

Simultaneously, the man planted his lips on Sebastian’s and grasped his hands around Sebastian's ass.

The man’s mouth tasted awful. Saccharine and stale. And what he probably meant as a kiss was sloppy and sluggish, like one of those fish that sucks off barnacles from the sides of ships.

And his hands, dear god! Sebastian’s ass was being kneaded like frozen dough. Each finger jerked and prodded like they were all in a dance battle, and none of them were winning.

This was when Sebastian’s mind overloaded. Smoke clouded his brain from its circuits misfiring around every crevice and fold. He tried to list out the facts so he could decide the next course of action, as he knew this was wrong. Yet, that was it. That was all he could list out:

• This is wrong.

• This is wrong.

• This is wrong.

“S-St—” his voice tremored. Fuck, why’s he sounding like this? Just say it! Tell him to get off.

Yet, all he could do was force himself to look away.

Through the sea of swaying figures, caught directly under one of the violet lights overhead, stood Miles. As an echo of Sebastian’s current situation, Miles was in the middle of happily and passionately making out with someone wearing a black button-down on the dance floor. Still, the two met each other’s gaze.

The stranger moved sucking on Sebastian’s neck, freeing his own lips; Sebastian’s mouth went slack.

Miles excused himself and tread through the crowd.

“Sebastian! There you are!” he cried a little-too-loudly. He gripped tightly over Sebastian’s shoulder, without even looking at the stranger still slurping down his neck like a vampire. Miles jerked Sebastian from the man’s clutches.

The stranger stumbled back against the wall.

“Oh, haha! I get it!” the man drunkenly chuckled. He pointed with two fingers to Miles and Sebastian and huffed, “Didn’t know you were taken. My bad.”

The man slipped back into the shadows.

Fuck, why did Miles have to play hero like that? Or, rather, why did Sebastian need someone to play hero for him? He should have been totally fine. This was supposed to be fine.

His shoulders shivered. Miles ushered him outside, where he and the rest of his friends had lined up only a few hours earlier.

A soft, warm breeze swept up beneath their feet.

Miles didn’t say anything at first. It was like he was patiently waiting for Sebastian’s breathing to steady. Finally, he said, “Okay.”

That was it.

“I’m sorry,” apologized Sebastian.

Miles sounded genuinely hurt. “Sorry? You’re sorry?” He placed his hands on Sebastian’s shoulders and looked squarely into him. God, Miles’s eyes. “Sebastian, you haven’t done a thing wrong.”

“I can’t even tell a guy to stop,” he pouted back. “And now you had to be my fucking savior and I ruined your night and… and… goddammit!” Sebastian stamped his foot on the ground.

“Ruined my…? Boy, I can kiss another guy on another night!” Miles retorted. A twinge of disappointment flickered around Sebastian’s heart.

“Hey!” a third voice called out.

They both turned over their shoulders. An Emile-lookalike careened outside; it was the guy with the nice black button-down, the one Miles was with on the dancefloor moments earlier.

Sebastian rubbed his eyes.

Wait.

Fuck. Because of course, it was…

“Shit,” Emile gasped.

It had been just over a week since Sebastian actually saw his face, but the image of him swam up through his mind so many times since then. It was hard to make it out in his memory, but looking at him once more was a reality check. His sharp jaw was a lot firmer than what Sebastian remembered, his sandy-colored hair a bit more tousled, and his stance a bit straighter.

“Oh,” Miles said to Emile, “I’m sorry. My friend needed help.”

Sebastian shook off Miles’s hands and turned away.

Emile’s bright voice clamored, “I can see that.” He took a half-step forward then immediately took it back.

“Hey, Sebastian,” stammered Emile. He said his name like it was a new word he had to sound out. “What happened?”

What happened? What happened?!

Sebastian felt like screaming. He wanted to lambast Emile for making him do all this shit in the first place. He was trying so hard to just be himself. Everything in his life had completely turned upside down. Kate, his roommate, even his mother, now… everything was changing and it all started when he dumped Sebastian. He wanted to tell him just how awful it made him feel, how completely out of control the story of his life had become now. He wanted to tear Emile to pieces for causing this.

But… he didn’t cause this. Emile was right to break up with him. Look at what a mess Sebastian was becoming. Pining after a guy who was far more comfortable in his own world. Forcing himself to go to a gay bar. It was all so much noise. He should have just retreated. He should have just stayed home and crashed Naveen and Audrey’s date watching Full Metal Jacket (or whatever it was called).

He had no love story— this was a tragedy.

This was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Sebastian’s lost eyes caught Emile’s. Then Miles’s.

And then he burst into tears.