Visiting Hwan
Why do I have so many thoughts, they are driving me crazy
Why am I always going anywhere, instead of somewhere?
-- Mary Oliver, Blue Horses
Classes were starting to worry him. There wasn’t a single subject he was interested in and half of what the professors talked about was completely incomprehensible, but not in a way that intrigued him, like Laith did. The mysteries he talked about seeped into Theodore’s brain to the point of consumption, an itch to scratch, a puzzle to piece together, while the garbage his professors spoke of had to do with the stock market and things politicians did. Highs and lows, profits and losses; how could anyone be interested in this? More importantly—and far more worryingly—was how he’d study this for years to come when he couldn’t even sit through an entire lecture without wanting to blow his brains out. Who gave a shit about productivity? That was the word he hated the most now, just because of how often his professors said it. Productivity. God, he never wanted to hear it again and it was only Wednesday.
“I don’t like my major,” he blurted out.
The girls all looked at him with big eyes and half-eaten sandwiches in their hands. Slowly, Daisy swallowed. “It’s only the first week. I’m sure you’ll feel differently when your professors actually start getting into the subjects they’re supposed to teach.”
“No, they’ve been talking about it the whole time; I just hate it. I hate everything they say.”
Awkward looks were exchanged across the table, but not with him.
“Is there a major you’re interested in?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t know. I have no idea what I wanna do with my life. I just… I don’t wanna do anything.”
“Well.” Jessie put her sandwich down. “You could sit in on random lectures, trying to find something you like. Just don’t get caught.”
“How do I avoid that?”
“Watch the ones in the auditoriums,” Daisy suggested. “You can slip in after it’s started and watch from the back. The professor will be too busy to notice you.”
That sounded like the perfect plan. The closest buildings to the cafeteria were law and arts, so Theodore stopped by both after lunch. It was important to note that he only watched one lecture on one subject of each major, but from what he saw, they were both interesting in different ways. Knowing laws and how the world worked seemed like a useful concept, while learning about color theory and how to create beautiful things seemed like a fulfilling journey. Next, he went to the science buildings, of which there were many. Biology was very fun, physics was mind-bending and chemistry was wild. The more he ventured into other people’s majors, the clearer it became that he only had a problem with his own. For the first time in his life, he wished his father had graduated in literally anything else.
A thought crossed his mind that, if somebody taught him the ropes, say, at his father’s office, he might end up liking business. The bureaucratic part of it—the stuff in the books—was definitely not his thing, but if he had a physical representation of what he’d spend the rest of his life doing, a practical day-to-day routine, he could change his mind about it. There was a chance. He still didn’t know what it was exactly that his father wanted him to do, or what his role in the office would even be, but if someone sat next to him and taught him how to do it, he didn’t have to love it. Punch in numbers on a computer or whatever; perform the monthly close. He’d go in every day, spend eight hours with his colleagues, then head home.
Would he have to work with his father? The thought sent ice down his veins. Not while he was still new at it, surely. He imagined himself with his pants down, standing in the middle of Henry’s office as a belt whipped him over and over. At least his mother wouldn’t be there to see it.
***
As usual, a text from Daisy let him know of the leftovers in the fridge. Much like last time, no other messages remained unread, no one asking him about Laith. So they finally knew where he was now and didn’t need to keep asking Theodore, sure that they weren’t together. That was what the lack of questions meant, right?
He tapped on Justin’s contact and invited him to hang out. His joint was gone, but with the rolling paper, he could make his own. It couldn’t be that hard.
After showering and having some dinner, he sat at his desk and took a crack at it. The end result didn’t look nearly as nice as Justin’s, but it was still a win that he couldn’t wait to show his friend. Would Justin even see him tonight? Checking his phone again, he still didn’t find an answer. He must be busy.
His reply only came about an hour later, halfway through the second episode of some popular TV show. None of it was very interesting, but a couple of people in the cast were very good-looking, which had kept Theodore from changing the channel, remote in hand. Unfortunately, Justin wouldn’t be able to make it this time. The rejection hit him with a heavy sigh—Justin wouldn’t see the first joint he’d ever rolled. He could save some of it and show it next time, but it wouldn’t be the same as seeing the whole thing. He asked why, but Justin didn’t answer.
It still wasn’t the weekend and Marquis probably wouldn’t be available to hang out yet, but he had to try. That was all he could do.
Hey dude, are you hanging out tonight?
A reply came a minute later.
I’m heading to bed actually. I know I keep blowing you off and telling you how to live your life, but that doesn’t mean you have to listen to me. Plenty of others are partying tonight.
Do you think Juan’s one of them?
Juan?
Your boyfriend.
Lmao his name’s Hwan! Tae-hwan. Did you really think it was Juan?
His heart raced, face heating up.
It sounds like it. Sorry.
You’re right, it does lol. He’s gonna love that.
A message appeared on the chat window, informing him that Marquis had added a third person into their conversation, a number he didn’t know—probably Hwan’s.
Theo wants to know if you’re partying tonight.
Hey Theo!
Hell yeah I’m partying! I’m with the boys right now. Wanna join us?
That easy, huh. His eyebrows bounced.
Sure! Where are you?
We’re in Moorgate.
That name didn’t sound familiar, so he looked it up. As it turned out, that was because Moorgate was really far from his apartment, all the way across town. Well, not all the way across, but it definitely wasn’t close enough to walk to. He’d only make it if somebody drove him over.
Having a car had never sounded so appealing before.
That’s a little far for me, sorry.
Np, I can meet you later. How about Atlantic?
He’d heard of that one before. Unfortunately, none of the maps he could find online showed it anywhere, but if Hwan had mentioned it, then it must be close to the apartment. The bartender from last night had also talked about it, when she’d mentioned the Kings-Atlantic Guts. He supposed that meant those two stations were connected, so he’d probably be able to find it if he went down to Kings again, like following a piece of rope in the dark. Would it be red too? He supposed it was a Gorgon entrance, since Hwan had suggested it, but didn’t red belong to Thrones? The Gorgons must have a different color, then. The fact that this one didn’t seem to be anywhere yet everyone knew about it was very mysterious.
How can I get to it?
From where you live, you’ll have to do it through Kings.
Just as he’d thought.
What color is it? So I know I’m in the right direction.
Just go north from Kings. Every Gorgon station is blue.
Ah, there it was. So Gorgons were blue, the Alvorada was orange, the Poison Darts were green, Thrones was red and the Dead Ponies were pink. Technically, they weren’t a faction, like the bartender had mentioned, but they owned enough land to have their own color. At least, that was what he got from what Laith had told him. How come some stations didn’t have entrances above ground, though? He supposed that was why Atlantic was a station, not an entrance. How annoying.
What time?
I don’t know yet. I’ll keep you posted.
That didn’t instill much confidence. Actually, the vibe he got was that it wouldn’t happen at all. His mother had told him before that if at any point during planning there wasn’t a time or a place, then the chances of it being cancelled were high. She said it usually meant people didn’t actually want to make plans, only seem like it to be polite. Well, he thought that was a waste of time. Plus, if Hwan didn’t want to see him, then there was no need to tell him otherwise, because they weren’t even close. Distant friends were usually the ones that did those things the most though, from what his mother could tell. He supposed the best way to go about this would be to see his night through as he normally would—alone, smoking in his room. If Hwan happened to get back to him, great. If he didn’t, well, his heart would sink, but at least he wouldn’t have wasted his whole night.
The notebook that he used to scribble his bad songs and confusing feelings into was the same one since middle school, when he’d first started taking guitar lessons. His mother had wanted him to follow up on piano for yet another year rather than start a whole new instrument, but he hated the piano. She’d signed him up for an experimental class after the hospital and just never took him off. His weekends used to be packed, from baseball to piano to Daisy’s house. Then, they’d turned into baseball, guitar lessons and Daisy’s house, but only for a few years. As soon as Carolyn started baking for the PTA meetings, she’d cancelled his guitar lessons and brought him into the kitchen. Luckily for him, he ended up really enjoying their time together; it made him feel useful. She’d let him stir the ingredients and choose the color for the icing. Sometimes, he even decorated, though those items were never intended for the PTA meetings; they just ate those at home.
Turning the last page of his notebook, he felt his world shatter. For some reason, he just never thought it’d run out. He’d had it forever. With his ugly half-smoked joint between two fingers, he flipped the notebook back to the very first page. When he’d first started learning to play the guitar, he hadn’t been writing his own stuff yet; it took a few pages until those began to come up. Lyrics about his family and all the dinner parties they had, the PTA meetings, the baseball games. Then, his mixed feelings about boys and his worries over girls, if he liked them or not, if he had a best friend. A couple of them hit him hard, still very much true—why didn’t he have a best friend?
After that, Laith took over. Pages and pages on him and how he made Theodore feel; the first time they’d met, the camping trip, their first time together, Theodore’s massive fuckup. Pages on how badly he felt and how certain he’d been that Laith would never speak to him again. Then, page after page about their second encounter and how fine everything was, actually. Multiple entries on Laith overall, with Ryan and his friends sprinkled here and there. Recently, he’d written about Justin a bit, though he was still a very small buffer in between thoughts about Laith.
He couldn’t believe he’d have to find another notebook. His foot absently kicked the box under the desk, still there. Chances of it having a blank notebook were low, but he picked it up anyway; it couldn’t hurt to look. Most of the junk here was useless, teddy bears that he used to play with and little toy cars that used to be on his shelf. No notebooks, even though he did find a strange envelope missing an addressee. Inside it was Ryan’s shopping trip coupon that he’d never redeemed. By all means, he should throw it straight into the trash and never think about it again, but something about it felt nostalgic, a nod to the first time he’d met Ryan’s friends, and an even bigger one to the joke Laith had made about his pajamas. For some reason, his brother’s acknowledgement of that night made it feel more real, like it wasn’t just a dream in his head—it’d actually happened. He slipped the coupon into a pocket and took the box out.
His phone buzzed while he was still outside, on the way back from the dumpster. The moment he read Hwan’s name on the screen, his heart soared, hands moving quickly to get to the rest of it.
Still up Theo? I’m leaving Moorgate right now.
His fingers typed fast.
Yes! See you at Atlantic?
Yup. Be there in ten.
Wow, really? The first thought that crossed his mind was that Hwan had a car, but if that was true, then he’d probably have driven everybody around last Friday. Also, the fact that he lived underground implied he didn’t have a garage, so realistically, he probably just paid a stranger to drive him. Years of listening to Carolyn’s horror stories about hitchhikers kept Theodore away from all of it, even paid driving services. It just wasn’t worth it. He’d get a car for Christmas anyway; just four more months to wait.
Didn’t that also mean he only needed to take business until the holidays? After he got the car, it’d be a done deal, no takebacks—right? He could change his major then. Hopefully, he’d have another one figured out.
***
It was very difficult to traverse the tunnels, even when they weren’t full. He was used to blocks and streets, not train tracks and mine shafts. Every intersection—crossroad? He had no idea what to call these—had signs indicating where each path led to, big and bright, difficult to miss, but he still felt insecure every time he followed one. He’d been led astray at malls before, and even though the tunnels had nothing to do with that, it was the massive fear of getting lost that made him stop at every sign, read it twice, and double check where the arrow pointed to before making a decision. The only silver lining was that the Kings-Atlantic Guts wasn’t very populated, so he could stop and think whenever necessary, which was multiple times. He couldn’t imagine doing this anywhere near the stations he’d been through with Hwan and the others last Friday. Those had been jampacked.
The blue neon bulbs that lit up Atlantic made everything look angelic and beautiful, as if every business and every person was underwater, the aisles between fish tanks at an aquarium. The glossy floors made it seem like he was walking on water, or on a thin layer of glass above it, with light shining through the waves. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Why had Laith never told him about this place? It almost made him consider living down here. On second thought, maybe that was why.
Wandering around, he hadn’t exactly been looking for Hwan, but found him anyway. A small group of people circled one of the businesses as a couple of guys carried a heavy glass panel through the door, curved, like the ones in display cases. Hwan held the door open for them, eyebrows furrowed. When their eyes met, his scowl was quickly replaced with a bounce of the brows, free hand up for a small wave. A cigarette burned between two fingers—Theodore didn’t know he smoked.
Theodore approached just as the two guys finished going through the door. “What’s going on?” His question came accompanied by a small nod towards the business. This close to it, he could see it was a coffee shop.
“Your boyfriend paid them a visit earlier. Smashed up the display case and got glass all over the food. Animal.”
That word set his face on fire, eyes wide—boyfriend. The ringing in his ears made it damn near impossible to hear the rest of what Hwan had to say.
“My boyfriend did what?” His own voice reached him through tons and tons of cotton stuffed deep into his ears.
“Do you know what he does?” Hwan’s eyebrows set, hand coming up to tuck the cigarette between his lips. It smelled just like the ones Laith smoked, the black camel pack.
“I have no idea.”
“He’s a goddamn thug.” Smoke shaped the answer. “Smashes up people’s things if they miss a payment to the queen. Sometimes, he even brings his dogs.”
“I didn’t know he had any dogs.”
“They’re not actual dogs.” The cherry burned. Around them, the crowd began to dissipate. “He terrorizes everyone. People don’t even look at him much, afraid he’ll come after them next.”
A memory came to mind, of the bar in the basement and the way people had behaved around Laith, avoiding eye contact with him to the point of disregard. It made sense, then, that the barman had let Theodore go without an ID check, since he’d seen the two of them together. Was that bar part of the underground system too?
“There’s a bar near my place, a basement in some building. It has a big wall where people paint and write and stuff. Have you heard of it?”
“Yeah, the MOMA. That’s what we call it. Near Sunset, I believe.”
“People there seemed really put off by Laith. I’m wondering if it’s connected to the tunnels somehow.”
“Yeah, a door in the bathroom opens up to some stairs. It’s a great way for people to go underground without being seen.”
Huh.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” That came out absently; a thought that left his brain.
“You can blame Qasim for that.” With the cigarette between his lips, Hwan walked away from the coffee shop.
Instinctively, Theodore followed. “Did he get you into it?”
“Not while he was alive. He left a half-smoked pack in his jacket; the smell reminded me of him, so I started smoking them. I don’t know what I was trying to do, revive him I guess, as if the smoke in my lungs meant he was still here.” Hwan shook his head very lightly. “When I closed my eyes, I could pretend he was the one smoking.”
His heart ached—god, wasn’t that what he’d done just yesterday? Laith wasn’t even dead, but it still felt like he was. His left hand closed around the cigarette pack hidden in his pocket. “Did it help? The loneliness, I mean.”
“No, it just made me miserable. Still does.”
“But you keep smoking them anyway.”
“I can’t help it. I’m keeping him alive in a way, stuck in my thoughts. Laith does the same thing.”
So they were the same cigarettes.
“Is it for the same reason?”
“Yeah, but Laith’s taken it too far; he doesn’t know when to stop. The way he does his hair, all messy with a bit over his face is just how Qasim used to do it. He picked up exercising too, to look big like him, and he does—it’s uncanny, especially when he has the jacket on. Every time I see him, it feels like I’m getting stabbed.” Hwan’s voice trembled, cherry burning with each inhale. “I hate him for it.”
Theodore scowled. “If he looks like his brother now, then what did he look like before?”
“Kind of like you, small and skinny; he only got tall later on. He was very delicate-looking, like a girl with a strong jawline; had long hair and everything, all the way down to his shoulders. He liked to braid it, but every time he did, we gave him so much shit that, one day, he just cut it all off. Buzzed his whole head. His mom was pissed at the mess he’d made in the bathroom.” A small smirk tugged at Hwan’s lips.
He simply couldn’t imagine this kid Hwan had just described as Laith. The mental image was there, but he couldn’t connect it with the Laith he knew.
“He got real tough after Qasim died.” Hwan sounded pensive, eyes off into the distance. “He was sixteen. Laith, I mean. He must’ve been in class when he heard it.”
His heart quivered. “Do you remember what you were doing when you heard about it?”
Hwan stared at him. “I was there.”
Holy shit.
“What happened?” Those words trembled in his mouth, dread crawling up his spine.
“Qasim was one of the Hollywood boys’ body guards—did you know that? He had to disperse crowds and chase off crazy suitors. A lot of them are rich cunts who think they’re entitled to the boys, but it doesn’t work like that. At least, it hasn’t in a very long time. Well, one of these rich fucks got in his head that he’d buy off all the boys, so when Qasim and the others intervened, a real slaughter broke out. Shots came from everywhere and hit a lot of people, innocent bystanders—they didn’t care that guns aren’t allowed down here. It was a fucking massacre. No one survived.”
“No one?”
“Nope. Not a single one.”
“That’s not possible. Did they all bleed out?”
Hwan touched his own chest, eyes set straight ahead. “He got shot right here. Bled all over his jacket.”
“How did…” Theodore could barely even think. “That doesn’t sound right. How did the unarmed bodyguards fight against guns?”
“Hand-to-hand combat. They disarmed some of them, but not all. Bloodbath.”
“So how did the guys that kept their guns bleed out?”
“Gunshot wounds to the head.”
Theodore held his hands up, frustrated. “How?! Who killed them?”
“I did.”
Suddenly, his legs stopped working. Hwan only took a couple of steps forward before halting too, turned around to look at him.
“I worked at the DP at the time, tending tables and stuff. While those two motherfuckers bent over the bodies to check for vitals, I took them out. Never held a gun in my life, but ripping one from that fat fuck’s hand felt so right that I just knew what to do. Click, click.” Smoke blew from Hwan’s lips, eyes cast off into his own thoughts. “He died in my arms.”
“Hwan…” So many emotions flooded through his body that he didn’t even know how to react, or what to think. His mouth gaped, speechless. “I’m sorry.” That was all he could say.
Hwan stared down at the cigarette between his fingers, pensive but also absent, somehow. “Haven’t been there since. The bar where the Hollywood boys hang out, I mean. The Vapid Beasts. I don’t even know what it looks like anymore.”
Heavy sorrow settled over Theodore’s heart, shoulders drooping. “You obviously cared about him a whole lot.”
“He was my soulmate. My whole life.” Hwan shook his head, eyes glossy, cast down into nothingness. “I cleaned his jacket by hand. It took three tries for all the blood to wash off.”
“And then Laith took it.”
Their eyes met. In silence, Hwan tossed the butt of the cigarette aside. “Did you ever make up?” That question sounded stale in Hwan’s voice, dead on his tongue. “He was really angry last time we saw him.”
“I think we did. I’m not sure. He was really drunk when we hung out again.”
“He’s always wasted, that’s what I hear. Came over here tripping on his goddamn feet earlier today.”
“Really?” His stomach dropped. “He wasn’t always drunk when we saw each other.”
“Bet he got drunk after.”
Heat burned up Theodore’s neck. “Did Qasim drink too?”
“Not like that.”
***
Atlantic was a lot more populated than Kings, but still not nearly as dense as some of the other stations he’d visited with Hwan last week. People walked back and forth, tending to their own businesses, illuminated by the beautiful blue signs that hung from every building. Hwan stopped in front of one and glanced up at its name, the Cod-dling Cots. Was everything fish themed around here? This looked like a short apartment building, with balconies out front and tinted windows. Theodore counted five stories.
“We used to come here all the time, Qasim and I.” Hwan spoke with his body turned towards the building, staring at it. “His parents didn’t know. I don’t even think they know about Laith.”
“Are they…?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember them very well. Qasim and the others were always at our place, not the other way around.” Hwan finally turned to glance at him. “I’m sorry for all the negativity; I don’t mean to make you upset. I just—I can’t help thinking of him when Laith shows up.” A moment of deliberation preceded the next part. “I hate him. I really do.”
Theodore’s blood ran cold. “Can we just do something fun tonight?” His voice was small, a guilty tone that illustrated how bad he felt for not wanting to continue exploring such deep topics. The more he found out about Qasim—and Laith, by proxy—the more heartbroken he became. Right now, that wasn’t what he’d been looking for.
“Yeah, of course. Anything you want.”
“I just wanna get high and hang out.”
Hwan grinned. “Alright, then take a seat.” He nodded at one of the tables that peppered the front of the Cod-dling Cot, where people ate and drank, speaking to their friends.
“Are you serious?” His question was completely ignored as Hwan grabbed a table for the two of them. At least, the one he chose was near the edge rather than dead center.
Theodore hesitantly took a seat. “I can’t smoke here,” he pointed out, low enough that their neighbors wouldn’t hear him.
“Why not? It’s perfectly legal down here.”
“Because people will stare.”
“No, they won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Look.” Hwan pointed at someone two tables away, toking on a joint. “Do you see people staring at them?”
Everyone in their surroundings simply carried on, drinking from wine glasses, laughing at their friends’ jokes. Huh.
“You’re fine. Don’t overthink it.”
“That’s like asking me to stop breathing,” Theodore mumbled, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. His left one felt the smoothness of the plastic baggie.
“You really think that much?”
The crowd around them ate scallops and drank champagne. It reminded him of his mother’s friends. “It’s what my friends tell me.”
“What kind of stuff do you think about?”
“Everything, really.”
A waiter approached their table with a small notepad in hand, pen placed neatly across its spine.
“Hey, Tae-hwan. What can I get you guys?”
Oh, so they knew each other. Was that because Hwan used to come here or because he lived in Gorgon territory, possibly even in the area? Theodore had a feeling that the answer to that was simply yes.
“Hey, Don. How about a beer?” That question was addressed to Theodore, Hwan’s eyes fixed on his face.
“Okay, but just one.”
Don nodded before leaving, no notes necessary.
“What’s on your mind right now?” Hwan leaned back, cigarette pack pulled out of a pocket, the very same one back in Theodore’s room. He picked one up and stuck it between his lips.
“Laith smokes the same brand.”
“I know.” Hwan spoke around the cigarette, voice muffled by the filter as he fished out a lighter. “Not surprised to find out you have him on your mind, though. Should’ve known.”
“Yeah, it’s—it’s kind of a curse, really. I just can’t seem to get over last weekend. I want the days to go by faster so he’ll see me again.”
Hwan blew smoke over his head. “What happened last weekend?”
His heart raced. He took the baggie out of his pocket, but still kept it hidden underneath the table, regardless of social norms. It was less embarrassing this way. “We, uh.” A hand waved in the air. “You know. Slept together.”
Hwan’s eyebrows raised far on his forehead, lips curling into a smile, cherry burning. With the cigarette out of his face, he exhaled. “So you finally did it, huh? Congrats.”
“Finally.” Theodore rolled his eyes. Still out of sight, his hands pulled the ugly roach out of the bag and brought it to his lips. “You’re making it sound like he’s some kind of challenge.”
“That’s not what I meant. You were having trouble with that, so I’m happy you finally got over yourself and did it.”
He shrugged, puffing on the joint. “Well, it’s scary. You never know what’s gonna happen.”
“Sure, the first time is, but then you get a pretty good idea of how the next ones are gonna go.”
“Yeah, yeah, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have chosen him, like I knew what was gonna happen. Emily warned me, but I ignored her. I should’ve done it with somebody else first, then gone to him.”
“Why?”
“So I wouldn’t be feeling this way.”
Hwan squinted. “You know, if you like him, that’s not gonna change based on if he happened to be your first, second, or millionth. If you already liked him before sleeping together, chances are you just like him even more now. Sex doesn’t spring feelings up on you; it just builds on the ones that are already there.”
The world stopped spinning for a very quick second, tossing him at light speed off the face of the Earth. Slowly, he leaned back, hands limp in his lap. “Are you kidding me? I’m—I’m that deep in it?”
“I think so. I mean, that’s what it sounds like, anyway. You probably just need somebody else to take your mind off him for a while, so he’s not your only parameter when it comes to that. It’ll help you move on faster. At least, that’s what helped me after Qasim.”
He took a deep drag out of the joint. The despair that consumed his veins must have shown on his face, because Hwan felt compelled to console him.
“Hey, it’s not the end of the world. It’s really not that bad. Sure, rejection sucks, but it won’t kill you.”
A long stream of smoke blew into the air. “Are you available?”
Hwan laughed. “I’ll have to check with Marquis. We were actually talking about it last Friday, how forward you were inviting us to the dark room. If Laith hadn’t been there, your first time would’ve been wild.”
“You were—you guys were considering it?”
“Sure, why not? We like you enough.”
Holy shit.
“You’d have a threesome with me?”
“Yeah. Why are you so shocked?”
“I don’t know, I just—I’ve never met anyone who’d do that with me.”
“Bullshit. I’m sure they would; they’re just too shy to admit it.”
“I mean, I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know any other couples.”
“You don’t need couples for that, just two fun friends.”
“I don’t have two fun friends.”
“Now you do.”
As soon as Don placed their beers on the table, Hwan picked one up and clinked it against the other. “Cheers.”
Both of them sipped on their drinks.
“Obviously, we can’t do it tonight; I still have to talk to Marquis, but we’ll keep you posted in the group chat.”
The beer that traveled down Theodore’s throat almost came back up with the surprise of that comment. A hand slapped over his mouth to keep it down, eyebrows pinched together. “Tonight?! You were thinking about doing it tonight?!”
“I just said tonight doesn’t work, but maybe tomorrow night. We’ll see.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“I—” His brain was a bowl of scrambled eggs. “I mean… I mean, yeah. Yeah.” His pulse raced.
“Okay, great.”
Condensation dripped from his fingertips, glass cold in his hand. “What is it gonna be like? I don’t know who’s gonna do what. Like, what am I supposed to do? When do I know it’s my turn to do stuff?”
“The only thing you’ll have to do is enjoy yourself. Trust me, we got it.”
“You’ll tell me what to do?”
“Sure.” Hwan sipped from his drink.
His attitude drew a scowl on Theodore’s face. “Don’t be cryptic; I’ve never been to one of those. I don’t want to act like a fool.”
“You won’t. Just relax; it’ll be fine.”
“I can’t relax. What are you gonna do to me?”
“We’ll give you a good time. We’ll give you something to think about for the next three weeks. Just calm down, man; we don’t expect anything from you. We know you’re new at this.”
His leg bounced under the table. “Fine.”
It wasn’t fine. The entire night went by like a movie playing in the background of what really mattered here—the thoughts in his head. They knew he didn’t have a lot of experience with this stuff, but still wanted him to take part in the threesome anyway. Why? What did he even have to offer? Hwan’s unwillingness to disclose what exactly would take place made him incredibly nervous. If he wasn’t expected to do anything, then would things be done to him instead? That was the only explanation he could find. Hwan defended the mystery by saying that he didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but Theodore didn’t like surprises. Okay, he liked them sometimes, but this didn’t feel like one of those times.
Two outcomes worried him the most. The first one was that the whole experience would be horrible and he’d never want to do it again, that his distrust of men topping him would become justified. That they’d hurt him, even if by accident, and he’d never forget it. The other worrisome outcome was the exact opposite, that he’d like it so much—that it’d be such an incredible time—that regular sex would no longer cut it for him. That he’d become obsessed with it, consumed by it, to the point that nothing else would satisfy him anymore.
There were other issues, of course, that also ate him up inside, though to a much lesser degree. One of them was the possibility of developing feelings for one of them. What if Hwan’s tactic worked too well and Theodore not only forgot all about Laith, but also fell for someone who was already in a relationship? Worse, what if this person liked him back and ended up ruining their commitment because of him? He didn’t want to lose friends over this. Oh god, what if he sucked so bad that they stopped talking to him at all? Too many variables were on the table.
He was scared out of his goddamn mind.
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