The Dead Ponies
The blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem,
like religion, like the way you look at me.
-- Sean Glatch, 4:41
This time, when Theodore fell back into the stream of partygoers headed straight for the Dead Ponies, nothing but confidence filled his lungs. Alright, maybe a little bit of doubt still lingered around, but for the most part, he just couldn’t see a reason to get pulled aside. Squeezed between Hwan and Marquis, he followed the crowd past the security guards just fine, heart leaping for his throat. In the success of that moment, he could do anything. He was invincible. He was absolutely unstoppable.
The entrance was so dark that it was impossible to tell what lay past it; all he could see was a great big door that opened to the abyss. The crowd filed in one-by-one, swallowed by the unknown, disappearing right before his eyes. Terrified of the dark, he leapt forward and took one of his friends’ arms. Suddenly, he was no longer invincible, but once again a small creature that walked straight into a monster’s breathing mouth. Squeezing his friend’s arm, he let the darkness encompass him.
The abyss was only ten feet long, a short hallway with elastic bands wrapped vertically across the exit. He’d never seen that before. The crowd slipped through the elastic and popped out on the other side, so he followed. Bright pink neon and low jazz music promptly welcomed him.
This was a much, much bigger place than he thought it’d be; the ceiling was high, the hallways were wide, and as the crowd spread out, he finally got some breathing room. The walls were a burgundy color that looked much brighter under pink neon bulbs, like spotlights over paintings, except the paintings were missing. Glow-in-the-dark signs indicated the bathrooms, dark rooms, and ill-defined places, like the Unicorn Rave, the Vapid Beasts and the Queen Bees, among others. The DP definitely had its own code language, which Theodore failed to understand.
Despite the size of this entrance hall, it somehow still managed to feel cozy, with a thick carpet over the floor and a little sitting room area right in the center; two couches and four armchairs that faced each other, placed around a coffee table. Technically, it wasn’t a small area at all, but the size of the room made it seem so. The people who sat and chatted all looked expensive; light bounced off their martini glasses and the sequins in their dresses. Tall, leafy plants added a nice green to compliment the bright pink all around—a beautiful aesthetic.
A row of lockers nearby allowed Theodore to store his bag in one of the free spots, lock it up and keep the key. That way, he wouldn’t have to carry it everywhere.
In quiet awe, he followed Hwan and Marquis down a series of dimly lit hallways where muffled music bled from different areas and played over each other, like a dissonant symphony. The more turns they took, the quicker he realized they were walking towards the Unicorn Rave, and if he needed any more confirmation on that, huge letters spelled it out for him. He promptly parted his lips to ask what kind of place this was, but upon walking in, realized it was a gay club; half-naked men danced on raised pedestals, women made out on the big screens and same-sex couples partied all around. Pink glitter covered the floor, pink neon flashed over the crowd, and pink face paint shone in the partial dark. The only thing he had yet to see were the famous pink shots.
Clearly, this was one small area in the conglomerate that was the Dead Ponies, even if the Unicorn Rave alone was still the biggest club he’d ever been to. Laith had mentioned just how vast the DP really was, stretching from a single nightclub to what must be a massive portion of the entertainment industry worth millions of dirty, underground dollars, but still he could’ve never imagined it’d be this big. It really said something when he’d probably only explored about five percent of its entirety and could already tell it was colossal.
If all the beer Hwan and the others had had at Streisand’s had only made them tipsy, then this was definitely where they went to get properly smashed. The first thing Hwan and Marquis did was hit the bar, all the way across the dance floor, for a few shots. The way they didn’t specify what kind of alcohol they wanted led Theodore to believe they were talking about tequila.
Not long after, a row of three neon pink shots was placed right in front of them, which checked off the last item on the list. This was, without a doubt, where Laith and his friends always came to party. This was what they meant when they talked about the Dead Ponies.
Every shot Theodore had ever done had burned his throat raw and left a disgusting aftertaste behind, but not this one. Well, it still burned, but the aftertaste was delicious, bubblegum sweet. The drink itself was almost syrupy, easy on the throat; he immediately understood why Laith liked it so much. In fact, it was so good he could easily have a whole bottle of it. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he realized how dangerous it was, and placing the empty glass back on the counter, decided not to order a second one.
Off to the left of the bar, pushed against the wall, was a row of tables with bottles of glitter and tubes of face paint in a collection of pink, red, white, light blue and gold. The three of them walked to it, and to Theodore’s surprise, ran into V and Dylan. On second thought, they’d probably chosen this as their meetup spot beforehand, in case any of them got lost, but the alcohol content in Theodore’s blood prevented him from picking up on it too fast. First, he was delightfully surprised to see them, turning to Marquis with big eyes and raised eyebrows, only to be met with a nod and cool nonchalance that slowly kicked off the process of realization. This was planned. Still, it was nice for the group to be together again.
When they met up, Both V and Dylan had already completed their face paints. Dylan had a red sun around one eye and a line across his other eyelid, so when he closed his eyes, it looked like he was winking. V, on the other hand, had given herself a kitty nose with whiskers and a third eye on her forehead, all light blue. Sometimes, when the pink lights shone over her, they colored her hair violet. It looked really nice. She looked really nice, actually; she was gorgeous. The kitty whiskers and her dark blue lipstick went really well with the winged liner. Theodore liked how long she made them, stretching far past her eyes, making them seem a lot thinner than they really were.
Theodore got a red dot on his nose and a few blue lines under his eyes, streaming down like thick, bright tears. The dot was Dylan’s idea and the lines were V’s. Not to throw Dylan under the bus or anything, but he thought the tears looked much cooler.
In true lovebird fashion, Hwan and Marquis painted each other’s faces; Hwan gave his boyfriend pink hearts around his eyes, while Marquis gave him a huge, creepy grin that curled at the corners. Two types of people.
The entire time they drew on each other, Theodore couldn’t stop wondering what kind of design he would’ve gotten if Laith had been the one in charge of it. Would he have gotten cute pink hearts or horrible clown makeup? He had no idea. His cluelessness as to what kind of person Laith was—what kind of person he really was—cut deep. Every time they ran into each other, he felt that he both knew Laith the best out of everyone, but also didn’t know him at all. It was probable that, in truth, no one actually knew him; not his friends, not his family, and especially not some random guy he’d fooled around with a couple of times.
It was… disheartening to think about how open he’d been with Laith without getting anywhere in return, without instilling enough trust to get him to do the same, but this might not be the end of the line. Laith’s inclination to hang out last week—for as long as he’d wanted to, by the way—pointed to an attempt to get close to him. Theodore was the one who read it as insincere garbage when it could’ve been the most honest thing Laith had ever told him. After all, Laith had been trying to impress him too; he might just have a harder time with sincerity.
As soon as the boyfriends were done, the group left for the dance floor.
Being in the Dead Ponies was just as exhilarating as he thought it’d be; the music was loud, the bass reverberated against his ribs, and the song selection was incredible—he knew every single one. They all danced close together, but that didn’t mean they were tied down to this one spot; both V and Dylan came and went as they pleased, sometimes spending up to three songs away before coming back again. Theodore didn’t know where they were going or what they did there, but as soon as V locked lips with a girl in their immediate vicinity, he got a pretty good idea, puzzle pieces falling fast into place.
Marquis had mentioned that none of them were straight, so the gay club and the gay kissing really didn’t strike him as anything out of the expected. What did get his attention, however, was when Marquis’ hand found Hwan’s chest and their faces met. Surrounded by men making out, Theodore really shouldn’t be so taken aback by that; his friends were just another couple amid dozens, but still he found himself staring hard at them, blood running warm. Their lips pushed together, their jaws moved, and when a flash of tongue came into view, he finally turned away, breathing in deep.
Was that how his kiss with Laith would’ve looked like to a bystander? His knees at each side of Laith’s hips, hands on his thighs, their faces flush together—his blood sung with the memories, skin tingling where Laith had touched him. The softness of Laith’s fingertips, the harmony between them, kisses growing sloppy—no, not right now. Not in public, anyway. What the fuck was wrong with him? In the warmth of the crowd, his body was consumed by flames, pulse racing in his ears, a knot in his throat. He was sweating.
Half of the men in this club were topless, carrying their shirts in the waistband of their pants, but he wasn’t about to do that; he didn’t even look good. These guys were all tall and strong. If he absolutely had to choose, he’d say his thighs were the nicest part of his body, but that wasn’t very easy to show without falling into indecent exposure. Either way, that just wasn’t him; he’d rather withstand the heat. Laith was probably one of those people, though. Who knew; he might actually be here tonight. The thought hit Theodore harder than the pink shot ever could.
Over the crowd’s moving shoulders, he could see the multiple exits that led people in and out of the Unicorn Rave, made up of big, tall doors cracked just a bit. They looked really heavy. One of the exits was different though, an archway covered by a bead curtain, shiny under the neon light where shirtless men and scantily-clad women came and went. This single archway saw a much heavier influx of people than any of the other exits, but why? What was so special about it? He thought they all led into the elaborate hallway system with the enigmatic signs. With his eyes fixed on it, he reached back and grabbed what he hoped was one of his friends’ arms.
“Do you see that?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to hear over the music.
“What?”
Oh thank god, he’d reached Marquis.
“The archway with the beads. Where does it lead?”
“You don’t wanna go there.”
That comment turned him around to meet two pairs of eyes, Hwan’s arm across Marquis’ shoulder. “Why not?”
“Do you know what a dark room is?” Hwan asked.
“Sure.” He could guess. “Let’s take a look.” His hand tugged on Marquis’ arm, head nodding towards the beads.
“Let’s not do that. You’ll never forget what you see in there.”
“I mean,” Hwan interjected, wearing a half-smirk on his face, “if he’s so curious…”
Marquis gave his boyfriend a look. “He’s a virgin.”
“I’m not some innocent fucking angel,” Theodore rebutted, voice louder than before, although, under the music, there was barely any noticeable change. “I just want to check it out.”
Hwan raised his eyebrows with an I told you so attitude about him, palm up to point at Theodore—two versus one.
Marquis squinted. “This is a bad idea.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Theodore grinned, and without further ado, pulled his friends through the crowd. Since neither Dylan nor V seemed to be around, this would be a private expedition.
***
The bead curtain led to a long hallway with a similar curtain at the very end and archways on both sides. If the club itself was poorly lit, then this place was straight-up dark, momentarily lit up only by the flashing of the lights outside. People came in and out in streams, shrouded like silhouettes, beads sparkling as they walked through.
It was impossible to see what lay beyond this hallway, but neither one of Theodore’s friends seemed interested in that, going for one of the side archways instead.
As soon as they walked in, the music from before faded into whatever played in here, a much slower tune, lyrics whispered into the mic, soft moans intermingled with the song. Real moans, too. Under the very dim neon tubes, which only gave the naked crowd a pink glow rather than light anything up, Theodore could see moving body parts and vague human shapes that grew from the shadows and merged back within them. It was an experience, even if he couldn’t see anything; it was the knowledge of what happened around him that made his heart race. Following his friends, he reached forward and grabbed one of their arms, afraid of getting lost, hand in a tight grip.
As his eyes got used to the darkness, the people in his vicinity grew more and more visible; limbs were now attached to bodies, distinct enough to be told apart from their partners, backs leaned against the wall and faces pressed together. Somebody got head in a corner, a couple had sex against a wall, three or four men pleasured each other, and many others helped fill up this very small hallway. It snaked around and curved every twelve feet, a zig-zag of nooks and crannies for couples—or groups—to snuggle in. Not everyone was completely naked, but clothes were still pulled up and down, sometimes shed to the ground nearby, never to be the same again.
Dozens of creative tattoos littered semi-visible bodies, none of which Theodore could recognize—except for one. He saw it in passing, a fern leaf just like the one Laith had on his neck, partially hidden behind the man who kissed him. When the man moved away, lightning struck Theodore where he stood, rooting his feet into the dirty cement under them, lungs devoid of air. Of course Laith would be here. His sudden petrification forced a tug on Hwan’s, or maybe Marquis’ arm, halting the group’s expedition.
Theodore’s presence as an observant figure soon drew Laith’s attention. He watched the exact moment Laith saw him and realization fell over his features, eyebrows shooting up his forehead, back immediately straightening up. Two hands nudged the stranger away so delicately, so nicely that Theodore really hated to see it. He wanted Laith to shove him off, angry and careless. Luckily, they were both clothed; they must’ve just gotten here.
“Theo?” The perplexity in Laith’s tone was almost tangible.
The stranger in front of him stepped aside, now aware of their unpremeditated encounter. Theodore didn’t have to look to know that both Hwan and Marquis also watched them, eyes glued on Laith’s face.
“What are you doing here?”
Theodore couldn’t manage a single word to answer that, heart punching him in the throat, his thoughts a tangled mess. His silence prompted Laith to glance at the people near him, holding the stare with one of them.
“I’m gonna go,” the stranger wisely announced, holding his hands up in surrender. No one objected to it, so he simply slunk away. His departure brought wind to Theodore’s lungs.
“Wait.” Hwan took a step forward, and by the looks of it, Theodore had been holding onto Marquis’ arm this whole time. “Do you know him?”
That question was directed at Theodore, but no answer formed in his head due to the massive void where his thoughts used to be. He had absolutely no idea what to do.
Still holding Hwan’s stare, Laith squared up, shoulders pushed back, chest out. “How do you know him?” His voice was low, unkind, with a hint of aggression that seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Is he the guy you were telling us about?” Marquis quietly asked, standing far into Theodore’s personal space, arms brushing together.
It was only then that Theodore finally snapped back to and let go of Marquis’ arm. Absently, his body took a step back to add some breathing room between them; this kind of closeness wasn’t right. They didn’t know each other like that.
“What?” Laith turned toward the two of them. His confusion was a clear response to Marquis’ comment, which hadn’t been uttered quietly enough. To be fair, this place was a little too small for secrecy. “You’ve been talking about me?”
“Oh my god,” Hwan cut in, wide-eyed. “Are you seeing him?”
Wait. His brain stirred with everyone’s brash realizations and strange reactions toward one another, seemingly uncalled for, but definitely as an appropriate response to attitudes and situations that he didn’t know about, previous to this moment. These preconceived notions that they had about each other, like Laith’s dislike for Hwan, Marquis’ quickness in putting the pieces together, and Hwan’s surprise at their involvement, all pointed to the three of them already knowing each other in some way. There was history here, one that didn’t involve Theodore, and the way they stood in this hallway made it feel like he was in the middle of an intersection, traffic zooming past.
Hwan’s tone, his incredulity stiffened Laith’s posture. He held his shoulders very awkwardly, tense, both offended yet taken aback. “It’s…” He faltered, eyes darting from Theodore back to Hwan, unsure how to proceed, how to defend himself.
If he wanted, Theodore could jump in for the save, but as soon as he opened his mouth, nothing but the truth came out. “It’s not complicated,” he explained, his tone a lot sharper than he’d meant it. The way Laith flinched was enough indication that he’d overdone it. “We just hooked up a couple of times, that’s all.”
No matter how much he tried to smooth it out, he’d already killed any emotion out of his explanation. At this point, it was better to just take the loss and steer the conversation somewhere else, so he turned to his two friends for the next question.
“How do you guys know him?”
“Everybody knows him,” Marquis clarified. “Especially the ones who wish they didn’t.”
Huh. What the hell did that mean?
“We…” Hwan started, faltering right away. There was a hint of sentimentality in his voice, but as soon as his eyes met Laith’s, any semblance of softness left him. He sharpened immediately, like a trained dog. “He’s a class traitor.”
Laith scoffed. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You shut the fuck up,” a strange voice called from the darkness, prompting them all to turn and stare at it, surprised.
They soon found it’d come from one of the half-naked men near the walls, whose partner hugged him around the waist.
“We don’t give a shit about your family reunion; this isn’t the place for it. If you need to talk it out, fucking leave.”
“Sorry, man,” Laith promptly replied, holding both palms up in the air. “We’re going.”
True to his word, Laith walked off ahead, without a single glance over his shoulder. Did he know they’d all follow, or did he just not care? Was this goodbye? The answer to all of those guesses could very well be yes; they weren’t mutually exclusive. Still, Theodore tagged after him, calling out his name. That did essentially nothing, so he reached forward to take Laith’s arm. His grip only held for a second before Laith jerked away from him. Alright, message received; he wanted to be left alone, so plan B it was.
Turning to glance behind himself, Theodore saw Hwan first and Marquis second, both in line to leave. He didn’t stop to talk, speaking on the way out. “What’s this class traitor thing about? What did he do?”
Hwan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter; what matters is how you two know each other. Is he the guy you were talking about?”
His pulse skipped. “He’s friends with my brother. I don’t know if you know him.”
“Ryan Pierce,” Marquis cut in, eyeing him from the back. “We went to high school together. He’s three years my senior.”
Wait—oh my god; he remembered Marquis from school; quiet, always hanging out with his friends, another group of outcasts. He’d never given them much thought because they were older, but he remembered Scott passing by his brother in the hallways, always smiling and waving at each other. They didn’t hang out much in school, sticking to their own friend groups instead, which must’ve been why Dylan and the others hadn’t known about Scott’s reputation as a cool and ultimately unattainable guy.
The more he thought about high school, the more he noticed how inattentive he’d been throughout those four years. It seemed like he’d sleep-walked the entire time, half-conscious only.
“His name is actually Voss.” The correction came to him as second-nature, slipping past his lips in Ryan’s own voice, how defensive he always was about making sure people knew he wasn’t a Pierce like his mother had made the town believe. “Ryan Voss.”
“Right; I remember something about that. No one knew for sure.”
“He was telling the truth about my dad. Henry’s not his dad.”
“I was one of the few people who believed him, actually.”
His lips quirked up into a smile, and in that moment, he forgot he hated Ryan.
The shift in lighting was gradual, brighter as they approached the exit. The moment they walked out, Laith turned around to face him. This hallway was still dark, but pink neon spotlights flashed through the bead curtain often enough that they could see each other, long shadows moving across the floor, the crowd elegantly walking around them. Laith scowled hard at him, but the alcohol in Theodore’s system blocked any reaction he might’ve had to that.
“What the fuck were you doing in there?” Laith asked, eyes quickly glancing at the other two who accompanied him. “Is this a fucking threesome?”
“Maybe,” Theodore challenged, speaking before his friends could. “You stood me up on Wednesday, so I found other people to hang out with.”
He watched the muscles in Laith’s jaw set, teeth clenching, and something inside of him stirred, a feeling, though not quite an urge. The way Laith’s chest expanded as he breathed brought forth a memory, when he’d cornered Laith into hanging out with him all those weeks ago, the one breath before a terrible decision. For Laith, of course, which made him believe he’d already won this argument too.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Laith confessed. Embarrassment was evident in his tone, eyes dropping for just a moment. It almost made Theodore smile, but it wasn’t time to gloat just yet, so he kept it in.
“Right, because I’m too chickenshit to be in the tunnels, too innocent and good.” Theodore scoffed sarcastically. Up on his throne, he watched Laith swallow dry. “You don’t know the first thing about me, bro.”
Green eyes glanced him up and down, but in a different way than Laith usually did. This time, contempt was written all over his face, similar to how he’d looked at Theodore’s building. “I guess I don’t, I mean, whose clothes are you even wearing? You look like you just went through someone’s trash. Your mom would never let you dress like that.”
That last comment lit his entire chest on fire, cheeks pumping warm, eyebrows furrowing hard. “Funny stuff, man; why don’t you jot that one down so Ryan can laugh at it later? I’m sure he and my sixth grade bullies will love it.”
Laith tutted. “Theo, this shit isn’t you.” His tone was a lot softer now. Sincerity replaced the contempt from a moment ago. “I didn’t think you’d come down because none of this is you, not because I didn’t believe you would. You’re wearing moccasins with a studded bracelet, dude; it’s stupid. You’re like a cop trying to go undercover. You don’t blend in.”
“They’re not moccasins. I don’t think you’ve ever even seen a pair.”
“Yeah, that’s my point; they’re worth a hundred and fifty dollars and go with polo shirts and khaki shorts. You don’t belong here, man. You’re not like the rest of us.”
“And you can tell because of my fucking shoes. Sounds like you know so much about me.”
Laith shook his head very lightly, a small sigh leaving his lungs. “You have a real shot at life, dude. You’re going to college for a degree you don’t need, just so your parents can brag about it at dinner parties while you go on to inherit your father’s estate. You have an entire career plan laid out in front of you that accounts for you acquiring so much wealth you’ll be able to retire at forty-five and live in Crestwood with the rest of the yacht-owners in town. The only reason you’re down here is because you’re curious about us and how we live, but at the end of the day, Tae-hwan and I will go to bed underground while you get to sleep in your million-dollar apartment in Parkside. We’re not the same.”
Despite the bite of his words, Laith’s voice remained low and sincere, like the soft inside of a crème brûlée, a contrast to the harshness of his features. It only worsened the pain though, a punch to the gut.
“Just… go home, man.” Laith took a step back, but Theodore spoke up before he could leave.
“If I’m such a trust fund kid, then isn’t Ryan one too?”
“Isn’t your father paying for both your apartment and your degree?” Green eyes squinted. “You and Ryan aren’t the same. He’s a Voss, remember?” Laith took another step back, glancing him down again, disgusted. “You’re a Pierce.”
There was nothing in the void of his vocal chords that could stop Laith from leaving this time, a strange aching in the center of his chest, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. He felt like an idiot. Ultimately, Laith wasn’t wrong; he was a spoiled little brat who didn’t need to be hanging around the less fortunate, but how was gatekeeping the answer? Sure, yes, he looked like a fucking clown in oversized clothes advertising a band he’d never even heard of, if a band at all, but he’d come down here for a reason, something much bigger than mere curiosity. That could be satiated just fine by second-hand accounts of the tunnels, but what ran in his veins was different, hungry and all-consuming, a siren song that had pulled him closer and closer to the ocean until he’d finally gone under. He was here because he belonged, or he felt like he did. Laith disagreed, but what did Laith even know about him? A lot of what he’d just said were objective truths that didn’t influence how Theodore actually felt inside. In the end, Laith only saw what he wanted to.
Weren’t the tunnels open to the public, anyway? What did it matter if Theodore had the means to live above ground while most rats didn’t? His plan was never to move here; he’d only come to party, like the rest of the drugged-up college students around. Did they also not belong? Should they also just go home? The more he thought about it, the worse it made him feel, fire burning in his chest. Laith had no right to judge him based on the image of him he had in his head, yet that was all he did. With flames licking his veins, Theodore turned to his friends.
“Do you agree with him?” he asked, voice much louder than the muffled music that played from outside. “Do you think I shouldn’t be here?”
The anger he showed prompted Hwan to raise his palms in an attempt to keep the situation from escalating. He wasn’t the focal point of Theodore’s rage, but saying the wrong thing right now could definitely get him there.
“I don’t think he meant it that way,” Hwan started, speaking very carefully. “He was coming from a very personal place. It’s not that he doesn’t think you should come down to get drunk and party as much as he doesn’t think you should be here when you don’t have to. I know that’s not what you’re looking for, I mean, you’re going to college and you live above ground, but I think he’s afraid you’ll get too tangled up with people like us to want to leave. The tunnels can definitely get a little too cozy if you spend too long in them.”
Theodore scowled, lips pursing as his heart sank. His search for consolation had failed. “For someone who hates him, you sure sound like you’re defending him right now.”
“I’m not defending him,” Hwan quickly corrected. “I just know where he’s coming from. Despite our differences, we’re still in the same community.”
Marquis moved in his peripherals, catching his attention. He turned to watch him approach, two steps taken forward, a hand on Hwan’s arm to keep him behind. The look on his face was impossible to read, though a certain solemnity was in display.
“Don’t feel bad.” Marquis’ voice was a lot sterner than he’d expected. “It’s not your fault that the extent of the tunnels for you is partying and having a good time, while others are pretty much stuck in them forever. This is a public space and you’re allowed to be here as much as everybody else, so enjoy it for as long as you can and only leave when you want to.”
“That’s fair; I was just trying to explain Laith’s point of view,” Hwan added, a sheepishness in the air around him. “You’re right though; you two can be here and party all you want. It’s just—this is home for us, so we feel a certain way about it. Protective, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’ll chase you guys off, but you know.”
So Marquis didn’t live here either. The hand on Hwan’s arm squeezed it with a small smile directed back at him, appreciative and comforting, from lover to lover. The warmth in their eyes, in the way they looked at each other sent Theodore’s heart flying, a contrast to the sharpness that ran along his veins.
Why couldn’t he and Laith be that way? They already judged each other based on the perceptions they carried in their heads; didn’t Laith say that was what a relationship was? He didn’t pursue them because they were complicated, or so he’d claimed, but the two of them were already complicated enough outside of one. Honestly, nothing would’ve changed, but maybe Theodore would’ve had someone to hold hands with and sling his arm around.
With white-hot jealousy writhing within his chest, he left for the bright sparkling spotlights and the loud music that played in the Unicorn Rave. His two friends followed, of course, and joined him on the dance floor.
The rest of the night was spent doing shots and screaming at the top of his lungs. The splendor of the club wasn’t lost on him just because his insides were on fire and his heart pumped around the blade of a knife, but drinking himself blind under shimmering glitter still felt like bleeding out in an indoor pool filled with champagne. The crowd was beautiful, a collection of defined muscles glistening with sweat, more tattooed than not, but none of them were the designs he’d been subconsciously looking for; this one was too short, this one was too pale, these tattoos didn’t match. He knew Laith wasn’t in the DP anymore, but couldn’t stop looking for him, absently, thoughtlessly, the way a hand reached for another in the dark.
Marquis touched Hwan’s face and kissed him, a lot like how Laith had done last week, and the time before that. God, it hurt to see; it tore his chest open and pulled his lungs out. He hated them. No, he didn’t, but he hated what they had, their intimacy, their tenderness, their love. He remembered the touch of Laith’s hand like he’d experienced it sober, a memory preserved in resin, how careful he’d been, how soft his fingers were.
One more shot and he felt sick. Overhead, Madonna whisper-shouted vintage lyrics, a classic, Vogue, Vogue, and he shouted back, throat raw. Did Laith dance to this? Yes. Yes, he did.
“You know,” words left his mouth without stopping by his brain first, a stream of consciousness that knew no bounds, a clutter and a mess. His mother would’ve been incredibly upset if she lived in his head, but maybe she did, and maybe that wasn’t the only thing that upset her. He loved her too much. “Maybe you’re the traitor. You ever think about that?”
Hwan glanced at him and the way his nose brushed Marquis on the cheek, arms hugging him close burned like the fires of hell. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. He left us for the Alvorada.”
“That’s treason?”
“When his brother died for us… yeah, it is.”
“What? He has a sister.”
“Yes, he does.”
Theodore’s eyebrows furrowed into a scowl that he couldn’t feel. “He had a brother?”
“You know that jacket he wears sometimes, with the three-headed snake on the back, etched into the leather? It belonged to Qasim. My mother stitched on the design for him.”
Qasim…
“Was he older?”
“Two years. Well, two years older than me, three older than Laith.”
“You’re twenty-four.” The comment left him absently, voice slipping under the music, too weak to reach Hwan even if they stood only two feet apart.
“It’s been seven years,” Hwan continued, words slurring together, “but we still miss him like it was yesterday. He did so much for us. We lived in a trailer park growing up; we were neighbors.” Ah, yes—trailer trash! He remembered that. “When my dad was bedridden, he’d show up with groceries and even make us dinner.” Hwan’s head shook with the memories, eyes glinting under the bright neon lights. “He didn’t deserve half the shit he got.”
“What happened to him?” Theodore asked.
“Business gone wrong.”
Marquis touched Hwan’s face, thumb wiping a tear from his cheek. “I think it’s time to go.”
Since the three of them mostly stayed in the same place, with no real reason to disappear the way V and Dylan did, they essentially worked as a harbor; the other two were the ships that came and went. Sometimes, Marquis left to get them all shots. Other times, Hwan left to get them all drinks, but they never took too long.
The announcement of their departure cut V and Dylan free to roam. The two bid them goodbye and quickly disappeared within the crowd, once again left to their own devices. The lack of ceremony made Theodore believe this was a very common occurrence.
“If Laith was born a Gorgon,” he commented outside, accompanying the other two along the blood-red hallways of the Dead Ponies, “why is he with the Alvorada now?”
“Because he doesn’t know loyalty.” Much harsher than before, Hwan kept his eyes forward. “They moved to an Alvorada area at some point, but Qasim never left us. He was a Gorgon through and through. Laith, on the other hand… I can only assume he made some new friends to replace us. The first time he came down was to get Qasim’s jacket. I had it.”
“You keep saying us. Who’s us? You’re hanging out with Poison Darts.”
“My family, the other Gorgons. Like I said, we used to be close. Our families used to be close.”
“Don’t you think… dating a Poison Dart would be considered a type of treason?”
“Allegiance lies in your roots. I was born a Gorgon. I can hang out with other factions without letting them change who I am inside.”
“Not that we even try to,” Marquis added, a small frown on his lips. “It’d make no sense. We’re already one and the same.”
One and the same. In the grand scheme of things, it felt like Theodore and Laith were on opposite ends of the board, when he’d once believed to be in neighboring spots. Laith must’ve always known, though; he knew everything.
“You’re cute.” The comment slipped out before he could even register it. “You two. You’re cute together.”
The matching set of warm smiles he got in response to that hurt like a stab.
Hwan lived in the tunnels, but was kind enough to walk him home anyway. His excuse was that Marquis lived in the area, so accompanying them both would be killing two birds with one stone, but Theodore knew there was more to it; he saw it in their faces, in the hint of concern that pinched their eyebrows together. Marquis would probably do it regardless—the resolution in him was strong—and without much option, Hwan must have decided to stick around. Why were they so worried about him? The city was his home, his natural habitat; he’d be fine. He knew how to get there from Parkside, which looked just like Laith had described, by the way, with the buildings and the trees. The architecture turned it into a dome, tall enough for trees to grow and swallow up the ceiling, hidden behind branches and leaves. Walking through it, Theodore could very easily forget they were underground at all.
Outside, the cool breeze that welcomed him went completely unfelt, his body numb from head to toe, only aware that wind blew at all because of his friends’ reactions. Alright, so maybe he was a little drunker than he’d thought, but it still wasn’t cause for concern; they didn’t know him and were overreacting. Marquis shrugged with the breeze and Hwan smiled, mohawk ruffling very delicately. He was handsome. They both were, really; all sharp jaws and dark skin. Those two points were the extent of the similarities between them though, given their completely different ethnic backgrounds, but as far as men went, they were both attractive all the same.
“This is it,” he informed them as soon as they arrived, plastic bag swinging from his hand. “Thanks for the walk, I guess.”
In response, both men smiled.
“I hope you had fun tonight, Theo.” Marquis was always sincere, but his tone emphasized that emotion even further right now. “Despite running into the Great White.”
“The what?”
“Laith,” Hwan clarified, as if that needed clarifying, as if Theodore had already forgotten everything that had just happened. “That’s what we call him, the Great White Shark.”
Theodore squinted. “Why?”
The other two shared a look.
“You’ve never actually been to the tunnels, have you?” Hwan sounded extremely friendly for such an accusation. Theodore’s eyes widened regardless, a tightness quickly seizing his stomach. “This was your first time.”
Before his brain could process half of that, he jerked forward and vomited all over the sidewalk. It was an incredibly violent stream for how little actually left him. His friends both jumped back just in time to save their shoes, a pair of leather boots on Hwan’s feet and rundown Nikes on Marquis’. Theodore retched and spat, hands on his knees, every muscle in his body trembling.
Where had that come from? It’d been so sudden. Well, the sidewalk had a nice splash of color on it now, bright pink, almost neon. Breathing in deep, he straightened up and wiped his face with the back of his hand, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Shit.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Hwan’s voice shook.
“I knew he was gonna be sick; he had so many fucking shots.” Marquis shook his head, his comment a thought spoken out loud. “C’mon, man; let’s get you inside.”
“I’m fine,” Theodore stated, although only a very small percentage of him actually believed that. “I can go up on my own. I feel better now.”
He actually did.
Marquis seemed reluctant to agree to that, but didn’t exactly have much of an argument to change his mind with, and ultimately settled. Still, he held out his hand with the same resolution from before, very idiosyncratic of him at this point. “Give me your phone.”
Sensing he’d get someone’s number out of this, Theodore unlocked the screen and handed it over.
As Marquis fiddled with the phone, Hwan slowly came down from his hysteria, concern pushing a deep scowl into his forehead, right palm pressed flat across his chest. Adorable. How was he so hot and cute at the same time? “Are you sure you’re okay? We can go up with you, it’s no problem,” Hwan reassured him, his voice a soft coo.
Theodore smiled. “I’m okay, I promise.”
Marquis offered the phone back to him, arm reached across the space between them, over the pink mess. “Text me if you need us. We’ll come over if you get worse.”
The genuine care and concern that these two showed him was so warm and appreciated that Theodore barely even knew what to say in response. He’d never thought that two complete strangers could make him feel so important.
“Thank you.”
That was the best he could do.
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