The point of no return
We could be caught
(I just want this to be perfect)
We're both convicted criminals of thought
('Cause I'm broken)
-- Lady Gaga, Sexxx Dreams
Streisand’s was always packed, so it wasn’t a surprise to find the place already trashed by the time Theodore and the girls arrived. He could easily picture Laith leaning against the wall outside with a foot up and a cigarette between his fingers, free hand in a pocket, same joggers as last time. They wrapped very nicely around his legs, a perfect cut—the volume over the crotch was the best part, strings hanging from under his shirt.
One long blink restarted Theodore’s thoughts, and following the girls inside, he promised himself that he wouldn’t think of Laith tonight.
As per usual, the girls all deserted him the moment they spotted a beer keg. He drank from it too, but remained in the room long after they’d left, with nowhere to go. This house had just enough furniture to keep a number of people seated, while the vast majority was forced to either stand or take the floor, himself included. Most of them preferred the backyard where the pool and the benches were, but he just stayed here for a while, people-watching from a corner.
A couple of girls sat in each other’s laps with big grins on their faces, speaking to their friends who stood nearby. That was clearly not a romantic gesture, just something girls could get away with. Theodore knew that, if he’d taken the last spot and Laith took his lap, it would’ve been portrayed as a whole different story. Wait, he wasn’t supposed to think about him. Okay, one tequila shot and he’d start over, for real this time.
The tequila burned much worse than the brandy at Nadia’s house, but in an incredibly delightful way—it was hard to explain. It burned and made him want to throw up, but it also burned and made him want another one immediately after. The buzz hit hard and heavy, making the room spin. His hand promptly found the table and steadied himself. He washed down the worst aftertaste he’d ever experienced with some beer and leaned away from the table, straightening himself. No one seemed to have noticed his little hiccup, so he just pretended it’d never happened.
The crowd outside split into multiple groups of people, each doing its own thing. Some sat on the grass and passed a joint around, some sat on the benches and the swings with beer cups in hand, some lined the edges of the pool and dipped their feet in, and some straight up jumped into the water fully clothed.
Glancing absently around, Theodore caught sight of the people getting out of the pool. One guy was a lot more interesting than the others, tall with broad shoulders and tattoos on his chest. The sight quickened his pulse, even though he knew it wasn’t him and would never be anyway; too many things about this stranger missed the mark. Still, the ghost of his memories haunted him. If only he were here, wearing nothing but his swimming trunks, to swipe the cup from Theodore’s hand and kiss him right on the mouth—tonight would’ve been different. At this hour, he was probably shirtless anyway, only with somebody else. The thought alone sent stomach acid up into his mouth, but Theodore very elegantly kept it down.
The girls were all back here too, just not hanging out with each other. He saw the boys Jessie and Hannah spoke to, not very remarkable, ready to be forgotten the moment they parted. Wouldn’t it be a lot more convenient to get their numbers and call them any time the girls wanted some company, or was meeting new people and getting to know each other part of the fun? Because if the end goal was to just sleep together, then whether they already knew one another or had just met wouldn’t matter. That was what Laith did.
Theodore remembered the utter confusion he’d caused by mentioning that his and Jessie’s friendship had only gotten weird once, which was, apparently, a big waste on his part. If she’d been willing, then why hadn’t they gotten together a second time, or even more? That train of thought explained Laith’s return last week with double the disposition to get off with him. The baffling thing about it was that Laith hadn’t even gotten off the first time; there was no reason why he should believe things would change, but maybe fooling around was part of the fun. It was for Theodore, anyway.
That outlook also explained why Laith wouldn’t simply quit Ryan; he was far too convenient. Even if he’d sucked the first time, he must’ve gotten better, or just good enough to keep Laith coming back. While Laith had a thing for shitty dudes who treated him like garbage, Theodore found it hard to believe he’d stick around someone who consistently gave him the worst fuck of his life. He was very talented, after all. If anything, Ryan should be thanking him.
The fact Theodore had started theorizing about his brother’s sex life just because it related to Laith was proof that he wouldn’t be able to keep from thinking about him tonight, despite how hard he tried. His inability to do that only became more evident the longer he failed at it. Cups of beer raced into his bloodstream, head light, lost in the clouds, but only until a guy big enough to carry him came out of the pool half-naked. That always pulled him straight back into his own body, attention span regained. He was stuck in a vicious cycle where he couldn’t bear thinking about Laith, but also couldn’t stop watching the pool. It was torture.
With the last of his beer gone, he turned to pour himself another one. That gave him a moment of peace, joined only by the keg, no reason to think about Laith at all. Water splashed behind him, but he paid it no mind. Leaning against the wooden rails, he fished out his phone and unlocked the screen—did Laith still remember his password? Alternatively, did Laith still remember his birthday? Without thinking about it, he tapped on the only contact he could talk to.
Emily,
I miss him so much.
There was more he wanted to say, a lot more; confessions unfolded in his mind like a string of pictures cascading from someone’s wallet, starting with the most incriminating one, that they had, in fact, been seeing each other. That Laith had been with him last week and he was the reason for Laith’s emotional distance, forced to hide behind poor lies that he—apparently—couldn’t even tell.
Fingers hovered over the keys, phone screen unstable in the dark. You were right, he typed out, but before his brain could even choose what to say next, a drop-down notification informed him of an incoming call. Ugh, why did she always do that? He hadn’t even managed to gather all his thoughts yet. With irritation building up in his chest, he pressed the green icon under her name.
“Why do you always do that?” Inebriated, it didn’t even occur to him to hide the vexation from his tone.
“Do what?”
“Call every time I text you. That’s such a boomer move.”
“Shut up, I hate texting. Who has time for that? Also, why did you format your text like a letter?”
“I’m feeling poetic; let me live. There’s a lot on my mind right now.”
“You drink two beers and suddenly you’re a poet.”
“I’m a musician, a lyricist. I thought you knew that.”
“You’re full of shit, is what you are.” Her tone was a lot harsher now, without the underlying playfulness that was so characteristic of her. It screwed a scowl into his forehead.
“What?”
“When were you planning on telling me you’ve been seeing Laith in secret, huh?”
Wait, what the fuck? How did she know that? That comment hit him like a bucket of cold water, suddenly sober.
“He came back with hickeys on his neck right after seeing you last month, and two weeks later, on the exact same day that he’s quote, unquote, busy, you tell me he gave you my number. Oh but wait, it was a long time ago, at the camping trip! Really, Theo? How stupid do you think I am?”
Oh my god, had she pieced it all together? Dumbstruck, he felt his eyes widen. That was not how he thought this conversation would go. His silence allowed Emily to continue her rampage, voice growing louder, more sarcastic.
“Let’s not forget your obsession with where he was two days ago either. Why did you want to find him so bad, huh? Were you looking for him? Were you guys supposed to meet when something went wrong and you thought, well, who’s my best shot at finding him? Who’s the one contact on my phone that isn’t my brother?” She scoffed. “Man, I gave you so many chances to come clean in that call. I’m… actually disappointed.”
“I’m sorry.” Those words spewed out reflexively, a well-rehearsed defensive mechanism. “He told me not to tell you. I wanted to, god, I really did, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t safe.”
His fingers grew cold under the erratic beating of his heart, a lump tight in his throat. The silence from her end only turned his breaths shallower.
“Emily?”
“I didn’t think I was right.” Her voice was quiet now, candid. “I was just saying that to get a reaction out of you. God, what did you guys do?”
The question lit his face on fire.
“Nothing too bad,” he replied.
Outplayed and thoroughly humiliated, he couldn’t hide the embarrassment that crept into his soul.
“Like what? Jesus Christ, Theo, how old are you?”
“I’m in college,” he countered, speaking much faster now, on the stand for his life. “I go to parties, get drunk, and then go home to my apartment. I’m at Streisand’s right now. I invited Laith over last week and kissed him because I wanted to. I’m eighteen.”
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”
“I know; I just don’t care. We were only having fun.”
“Don’t…” She sighed. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“I’m not doing anything!” he nearly shouted. “We’re just fucking around. It’s not serious; it’s not anything! He’s chill and doesn’t care and neither do I.”
“Please, just don’t fall in love.” The sincerity of her tone stabbed him three times over. “I know he’s your first and everything feels special, but I promise you, it isn’t. You’re playing with fire.”
“That’s not it at all.” Words left his mouth, but he didn’t register them, watching himself from three feet in the air. “We didn’t do that, we just…”
His ghost inhabited a memory, Laith’s face on his own, hand touching his cheek, the closeness between them, as warm as a summer afternoon. The end of that sentence evaporated.
“You’re picturing things that didn’t happen,” he continued, sterner now, more collected. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about. Yeah, we made out; you got us, congratulations, but that’s all you know. Everything else you think you know is complete fabrication. You don’t even know the first thing about me, and if Ryan’s your primary source of information, then I’m sorry to say you’ve never been more misinformed. Why don’t you ask Laith about his delusions, huh? They’ll be of much greater value than anything Ryan can ever say about me.”
Pulling his phone away from his face, he quickly hung up, heart hammering hard into his ribs. He’d done it. Not sure what that was, but it felt like an accomplishment either way. With adrenaline running down his veins, he downed an entire cup of beer. It reminded him of when Laith had finished those two bottles back-to-back and a real sense of adulthood grew big within him. He could do whatever he wanted; there was no one to answer to and no orders to follow, only his own judgment and what he felt like doing next. He was invincible, unmatched, untouched. Before he could finish that train of thought, his own name cut through his brain so unexpectedly that his entire body startled.
“Whoa, are you okay?”
That voice was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Turning around, his eyes fell on Marquis, the cute guy with the pink curls, friends with Scott’s brother. Calmer now, Theodore breathed out.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, bro.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come up behind me like you were trying to scare me.”
Despite the mask over Marquis’ face, Theodore could still make out the smile that stretched his lips underneath it, cheeks round, dark eyes grinning. “That’s a good point. I didn’t know you guys would be here tonight.”
“I didn’t know you’d be here either.”
A brief glance over the railing showed the rest of Marquis’ friends in the backyard, hanging out in a semi-circle where the gap was obviously his spot. They all spoke to each other with beer cups in hand, laughing.
“Did you just get here?” Theodore asked.
“Yeah, a few minutes ago; you were on the phone and didn’t seem to notice us. That must’ve been one hell of a call.” Marquis’ tone was light and playful, but still Theodore’s throat closed. A heavy feeling fell into the pit of his stomach. Was it guilt? Regret, maybe? He couldn’t even tell. “Boyfriend troubles?”
“Huh?” That question shook him as hard as Laith had done it in his dream. “What makes you think I’d have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t know; I’m just guessing.” Marquis shrugged. “It seemed like an intense call.”
“No, I mean, why didn’t you say girlfriend?”
“Oh.”
They stared at each other.
“Sorry.” Color rose to Marquis’ face. “Force of habit, I guess. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Theodore’s lips promptly parted to question that, but before anything came out, he realized that the only reason Marquis would be so accustomed to that way of thinking was if he lived in it, if he was part of it. His demeanor shifted; he dropped his defensiveness, sincerity and surprise replacing it, similar to how he’d felt upon learning of Laith’s sexuality. Driven by a force beyond his control, he took Marquis’ arm and leaned closer, eyes wide, a breath caught in his throat. This was it, who he’d been looking for, the one who could help him.
His strange behavior pushed Marquis back a step, eyebrows pinching together.
“I need to talk to you.” The intensity of his tone made up for how quietly he’d said that, and before Marquis could really answer, he left the porch dragging the guy by the arm. That got a couple of complaints and some very confused questions on the way, but nothing that pierced through the fog in his brain. The backyard was completely crowded by now, so he went for the side of the house, between Streisand’s and a neighbor.
“What’s going on?” Marquis asked the moment Theodore let go, scowling.
“Okay, you’re right; I am seeing someone,” he confessed, “but I don’t know what gave it away. Do I look like I suck cock, or do you just… know?”
Marquis blinked. The crease between his brows slowly faded. “Man, it was just a guess, but…” Dark eyes briefly glanced him down, assessing his wardrobe. “I mean, you dress like a straight guy, so I wouldn’t worry about getting called out or anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“So it was a complete shot in the dark.”
“Yeah; we just don’t hang out with straight people very much, so what I said to you has never really been a problem before.”
Wait, we?
“I guess Scottie’s the only straight guy we actually talk to, if he’s even straight at all; it’s not like we go around asking,” Marquis continued.
“You mean the others. Your friends. They’re not straight either?”
“Nope. Like I said, Scottie’s probably the only straight one, but I don’t know if I’d consider him one of us; he’s a good kid.”
That last comment changed everything. A flood of memories came to the surface, every single time a rat had deemed him a good kid as an excuse to push him away, or more specifically, when Laith had done it. He thought of him on the camping trip, with sunlight in his hair and gold on his tongue, telling him about Burman and the Dead Ponies only to make it clear that he wasn’t one of them and would never get to experience it. Laith had let him peek through the gap only to shut the door in his face, kissing him under no commitment, touching him just to make him want more. He hated him.
No—and his blood grew cold with the mere thought of it, blasphemous—he didn’t. He could never hate him.
“Right, because he doesn’t visit the tunnels like you guys.”
The bite in his comment brought tension to Marquis’ shoulders, neck straightening up, but this wasn’t the topic that Theodore wanted to discuss. Whatever nonsense Marquis projected onto Scott didn’t matter, because right now, there was only one thing on his mind, so he took Marquis’ silence as an opportunity to change subjects.
“Anyway.” His heart skipped a beat. “You’ve been with guys before.”
“Sure…” One word, slow and long, covered in skepticism. “Listen, we have no intention of bringing Scottie down with us; we only ever hang out with him above ground, where it’s safe. We’re actually here for him tonight.”
“Have you ever asked him if he wants to go down?” That question flew out of his mouth faster than he could think about it. The clarity from a moment ago was already gone, replaced by the kind of warmth that seared right through him. The flurry of words that came up his throat was imminent. “Because maybe he does. Maybe he wants to see the tunnels and hang out with you guys down there—you’ve just never asked. You keep pushing this oh, he’s too pure to go down narrative like you’re these hardcore motherfuckers who’ve seen indescribable horrors and can handle the most fucked up shit ever, when you don’t even know who he really is, or what he’s really like. Maybe he’s just as twisted as all of you combined! Maybe even more, but you wouldn’t know. Your superiority complex wouldn’t let you see it even if he showed proof to the contrary. You’d probably just close your eyes.”
His heart hammered hard into his chest, eyes wide and crazy. He felt crazy, popping off on Marquis out of nowhere. Lost in his own unstable emotions, he was unable to read the look that that got him; his brain was far too scrambled to make sense of it.
“I don’t know about all that, man; I just know Scottie doesn’t give a shit about the tunnels. It’s not his scene.”
Marquis’ nonchalance threw the full picture of his embarrassingly transparent projection straight in his face. Warmth rushed up his neck.
“Are you good?”
“Can we talk about boys right now?” He practically barfed that question out, speaking over Marquis. Everything about this encounter was far too embarrassing not to just blurt that out at this point. “I need help and no one I know can help me with this, but maybe you’ve been in my position before, so here’s to hoping.”
“Okay… what’s going on?”
“I’m—”
Oh god, could he even do this? His face felt as if it’d melt right off his skull. He closed his hands into tight fists and took a deep breath—he could do this. He had to.
“So like I said, I’m seeing someone, and we’ve done stuff… together… but I’m scared to do more. I want to; I just don’t know how.” His shoulders raised up to his ears, heart beating in the roof of his mouth.
Marquis simply studied him for a moment, a pensiveness falling over his countenance. “So what you’re telling me is you’re afraid to bottom for the first time.”
Already, Theodore wanted to disintegrate. This was a terrible idea. His mouth immediately opened to call it all off and say he was just messing around, but Marquis spoke before he could.
“Listen, it’s not a big deal; we’ve all been there. It’s really not as scary as you think it is; you just need to take it one step at a time. Start small. If you two aren’t really all that close, or you just don’t want to ask for help, you can practice before going to him.”
Practice? The thought alone mortified him. At least getting weird with somebody else didn’t make him feel like a freak for enjoying himself, but if jacking off alone was already bad, then he could only wonder how much worse anything else would be. Company was the only thing that made the mortifying aspect of it bearable.
“Oh, we’re close,” he informed Marquis. “I don’t need to practice.”
“Maybe not, but he’s still gonna test you anyway. Toys help a lot when you’re starting out too; that way you can know just how much you still have to go. You could get a small one first and slowly upgrade it as you go. That’s probably the easiest way to do it, if you don’t feel ready to just go for it yet.”
During Marquis’ exposition, Theodore caught sight of something moving in the background. He craned his neck for a better view, eyes peeking over Marquis’ shoulder. Multiple people gathered and drank in the distance, but one of them broke off from the rest, the guy with the delicate mohawk. Marquis’ friends must’ve noticed his lengthy absence and sent Hwan to go check on him. Theodore watched this approach with dread filling up his chest, cold as ice.
“Okay, thanks for everything!” he spoke loudly, pretty much cutting Marquis off. “You’re so helpful; I’m glad I talked to you. Anyway, I gotta go. See you later!”
Just as he made to leave, Marquis grabbed his arm, a scowl now deep on his forehead. “Whoa, hold on, what? I’m not even done!”
Before he could say anything, Hwan arrived with a mask pulled under his chin and a plastic cup against his lips. With the way he tilted it, he must’ve just finished his drink, speaking as soon as the cup was brought back down. “What’s going on over here?”
“Nothing!” Theodore forced out a bright, wide grin, a breath held halfway up his throat.
In response to Hwan’s approach, Marquis simply passed him a glance. “Theo’s worried about his first time,” he explained, snitching at the first opportunity. Theodore felt like dropping dead. “I was just telling him that practicing at home might make him feel a little more confident about it.”
God, how much further was this going to spread? He peeked around Hwan to make sure nobody else was coming over, and to his luck, everyone was just as distracted as they’d been two minutes ago. In nervous silence, he glanced up to see Hwan nod his agreement to Marquis’ advice, a sudden thoughtfulness falling over him.
“Communication is also really important,” Hwan added. His comment got a verbal agreement from Marquis before turning into a question. “Is it both of your first times?”
“No, just mine.” If his tone sounded extremely anxious, it was because he felt it deep in his bones.
“Oh.” Marquis stared at him. “Then just let him lead; he knows what to do. You really shouldn’t be worried in that case.”
Oh my god, why did Marquis have to say that?! This conversation should’ve been over ten minutes ago, not continued with Hwan’s participation, dammit! Now he knew they were talking about a man! A scream rushed up his throat but never made it out, strangling him instead.
“Does he know it’s your first time?” Hwan asked, perfectly conversational, as if they were speaking of furniture.
Theodore could barely breathe. “I mean, probably.”
Marquis wrapped an arm around Hwan’s waist as he talked, reciprocated by an arm draped across his shoulders, pulling him close.
Wait.
“You need to tell him, so he’ll go easy on you. If he doesn’t know, you probably won’t enjoy yourself as much. I mean, he’ll figure it out either way, so you might as well just say it.” Hwan shrugged, holding Marquis under his wing, an inch or so taller than him.
The way Marquis practically snuggled up to him put a squint on Theodore’s face.
“I know it feels like the end of the world, but it’s not that embarrassing,” Marquis reassured him. “He’ll be very thankful that you told him. We were all virgins one day.”
Theodore scowled. “Are you two fucking?”
His question made the couple burst out laughing.
“Yeah, we’ve been together for a year now,” Hwan explained, squeezing Marquis close.
That small interaction quickened Theodore’s pulse for some reason, eyes glued on where their bodies touched.
“Thanks for noticing.” Marquis grinned.
He couldn’t stop staring at the hand on Hwan’s waist, how lightly it brushed over his shirt, how casually it held him. Marquis continued talking, but he could barely pay any attention.
“First times can be really stressful if you think about them too much, so I guess my biggest advice for you is not to think about it. Tell him to go slow and let him do his thing. I promise you’ll be fine.”
If he ever held Laith like this, would the entire room stop and stare? Would they even notice? He supposed that, ultimately, it’d depend on Ryan’s presence, but if they were alone in an overcrowded place, surrounded by complete strangers, they could probably get away with it. His arm around Laith’s waist and Laith’s arm across his shoulder, nice and casual, a non-statement as much as it wasn’t one, because they weren’t together, but they were also not not together. To the crowd, it would’ve looked like either possibility; two friends casually hanging out, or two lovers holding each other. Would Laith even let him do it?
“Can you…” That question evaporated as quickly as it’d reached his mind. He wanted to see it in action, Hwan ruffling Marquis’ hair just how Laith had ruffled his so long ago, but asking for that would be weird—right? Yeah, it’d be super weird, so never mind. He glanced up at Hwan instead. “One year, huh. Were you Marquis’ first?”
“Yeah.”
A double answer in perfect unison. The couple glanced at each other, grinning. Theodore wondered if they’d kiss, a breath held in his throat. When they didn’t, an exhale left his lungs.
“It wasn’t his, so I wasn’t worried,” Marquis explained with a half-shrug on his shoulders. “Which is why I’m telling you not to stress about it.”
“Is he older than you?” Hwan asked.
Theodore stared at him. “About the same age difference between you and Marquis,” he speculated.
There was something about that question that just rubbed him the wrong way. Even though five years wasn’t that big of a gap, he just didn’t want to say it.
His response flashed some suspicion on Hwan’s face, but nothing came of it.
“Really? I thought you were talking about someone from school,” Marquis commented. “How did you guys meet?”
“I’m in college,” Theodore corrected, even though they totally knew that, since they’d been to Scott’s graduation. “We met at a party.”
“Oh, okay.” Marquis sounded enlightened. “Is he here?”
“Fuck no.” He almost laughed, lips pursing. “He’s a rat.”
That widened both Marquis and Hwan’s eyes, a mixture of shock and surprise written across their faces. That was the exact reaction he’d wanted and the only reason he’d shared such confidential information.
“He’s probably at the Dead Ponies,” Theodore added, just trying to sound smart now, making it clear that he knew what went on underground.
He got a couple of full-body glances in response to that, dark eyebrows furrowing on both Marquis and Hwan’s faces.
“Wow, you hide really well,” Marquis commented. “I would’ve never known.”
Wait, known what?
“Is your boyfriend a Gorgon?” Hwan asked.
Suddenly, every word that hadn’t left his mouth dissipated from his brain, along with the rest of the English language. Speechless, he simply held the stare, cheeks burning. His lips mouthed words that didn’t exist in an attempt to kill the silence, a deep scowl on his face.
“No.” That was all he managed to say, despite every voice in his head screaming that Laith wasn’t his boyfriend in the first place. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he blurted out suddenly. “He’s not—he’s not my boyfriend.”
“What is he?” Hwan asked. There was a very clear emotion on his face that Theodore failed to read, unable to see an inch before himself. “A Poison Dart?”
“I don’t know any Poison Darts.” Or did he? “Unless you guys are a couple of them.”
Marquis and Hwan both shared a glance.
“I am,” Marquis confessed.
Hwan extended an arm, twisted around so the inside would be visible, and right over his wrist was the two-dimensional design of Medusa’s head, black ink over dark skin, or slightly lighter on this part of his body. “I’m not.”
Staring directly at the tattoo, it took Theodore ten whole seconds to refocus and process everything that had just happened. So these guys were in different factions.
“How committed,” he commented, a sort of absence in the way he spoke. “I’m surprised you’re up here.”
“We’re here for Scottie.”
“I know.” He practically spoke over Hwan. “It’s just impressive that someone committed enough to get a tattoo is still coming up at all. Isn’t it dangerous?”
Hwan gave him a look. “Why would it be?”
He flipped his palms up in a matter-of-fact gesture to indicate the sheer stupidity of that question, but as his mind continuously failed to come up with a verbal explanation as to why, he realized he’d never actually learned what Laith was so afraid of. If Henry was the one that terrified him, he could just avoid Crestwood; there was no logical need to avoid the whole city. There must be something else to it, that only really applied to Laith rather than every rat. He had no idea why it’d never occurred to him to argue this, since rats were above ground all the time. His brother and most of his friends even lived above ground. Without an explanation, he let his arms drop to his sides. “I mean like, why come up if you have it so much better underground?” That wasn’t what he’d been going for, but it was still a good enough distraction.
“I could ask you the same thing. Some of us live above ground, and anyway, we know people here that want to see us. Sure, we get looks and start gossip, but it’s not dangerous. If anything, the people up here think we’re the dangerous ones.”
True—his mother would always clutch her purse whenever a rat passed them by, and ever since Ryan had started dressing as one, the family had pretty much ceased any attempts at reconnecting with him. Word on the street had it that drug addicts, dealers, homeless people and the less financially privileged all populated the tunnels, since officials barely checked in on it and taxes weren’t enforced. All the kids in his old neighborhood had grown up hearing stories about the bad people in the tunnels, dirty and evil, that would murder and steal completely scot-free, as a way to discourage them from going under.
That was why, when Ryan had come to him with tales of neon lights, glitter and sparkling drinks, he’d been both taken aback and thoroughly fascinated. It was true that university students were known to frequent the tunnels to do drugs and party, but they weren’t considered dangerous per se; they were the bad examples that encouraged parents to do better and were very often used as cautionary tales of failed parenting. If somebody’s kid ended up being one of those and the neighbors found out, the family’s reputation took an immediate nosedive. It was surprising that his mother hadn’t disowned Ryan much earlier on.
He wondered what his father thought about Laith. Was he a fuck-up in his mind? For as much as Ryan dressed the part, he fit the undergrad partygoer category much better than any of the “dangerous” people that lived underground, but Laith was a different story. He’d never even gone to college, and considering his work ties with Henry, then Henry probably knew that. The day his father had shouted at Laith on the porch, had he done it because he thought Laith was dangerous? If that was true, then those two were equally terrified of one another.
As the conversation died out, Theodore received an invitation to join the others in the backyard, which he’d only take if those two didn’t bring up his non-boyfriend into discussion. Hwan gave him a funny look in response to that, while Marquis understood it on what seemed to be a very personal level, and with the promise of keeping quiet, they all rejoined the party.
What those two did tell the others was that Theodore was one of them. Those were the words they’d used too, one of them. Luckily, none of the girls were around to hear it, and the two people who did both raised their eyebrows at him in surprise. Dylan had a big grin on his face while V’s eyes doubled in size. Him, one of them? They could barely believe it. Their shock brought him back to when they’d first met, when the girls had told them about Scott’s reputation and how different it was to the vision of Scott they’d had in their minds. Neither one of them really uttered a word about it, but V clinked her plastic cup against his empty one anyway—a celebratory gesture.
This party felt different from the others, or the rest of it did. Hanging out with these guys, he didn’t feel so alone, and now that he was one of them, topics didn’t have to be censored. They spoke freely of the tunnels and didn’t explain every little thing anymore, assuming he knew enough to follow. In their defense, he had projected a much wiser version of himself than was actually the case. They probably thought he’d gone down himself. In the end, he was able to follow the context of their conversations. They mentioned a lot of things he’d never heard of, but it wasn’t hard to figure out whether that referred to an entrance, a business or a person. The fact the conversation changed back to life above ground every time Scott came over definitely helped him feel like part of the group.
As they talked, it became increasingly more evident that certain entrances were populated by specific factions, be it the Poison Darts, the Gorgons or the Alvorada. He was sure there were more, but so far, those were all the ones he knew about. This area, extending as far as his building, belonged to the Poison Darts, which explained why Laith had told him to meet up at Cantaloupe; that must be the closest Alvorada station to Theodore’s apartment. It also explained Ryan’s shitty apartment choice; in the Alvorada area, he could take any of the entrances near his place.
Another interesting fact was that the rest of the group was all Poison Darts, just like Marquis, but they didn’t seem to treat Hwan any differently. It was wild that they even hung out at all; Theodore didn’t think that’d be a thing. Admittedly, he didn’t know much about these factions, but their existence served a purpose, and if that purpose wasn’t immediately defeated by their interactions, then he had no idea why they’d been created in the first place.
The moment Scott wanted to go home, they all downed the rest of their cups and began to leave. Unsure if he was supposed to tag along, Theodore just kind of hung back. Luckily, Hwan noticed his detachment from the group and asked if he wanted to come with; they’d drop Scottie off and hit a club afterwards. The first thing that came to mind was the Dead Ponies, and this inebriated, it was impossible to catch those two words before they slipped right out of his mouth. His incredible lack of secrecy made Hwan glance around, quick and furtive, before nodding his confirmation. Alright, so talking about this kind of stuff out in the open was ill-advised, but how was the side entrance any different than the backyard where a bunch of partygoers could hear them? Were they all rats too? Was Hwan worried about the neighbors? Whatever it was, Theodore dropped the subject and followed him out.
His heart jumped as they walked down the street, anticipation that almost made him skip and bounce. Holy shit, he was going to the Dead Ponies. Holy shit, he was going underground. Could he even do it? Well, he had to; everybody here already thought he did.
The walk was full of jokes and laughter, crossing none of the forbidden topics in Scott’s presence. Apparently, he’d met a girl and gotten her number tonight; that was all he could talk about. He mentioned her name, what she’d been taking in college and how much they had in common, but Theodore heard less than ten percent of it, far too excited—the Dead Ponies! The tunnels! The millions of stories he’d heard his entire life!
He knew very well what going down meant, and the impact it’d have on the rest of his life, but the fact that just thinking about it gave him an adrenaline rush meant he’d already disappointed his parents. If the tunnels felt like crack to him, then he wasn’t one of the good kids who weren’t supposed to be down there. Now, he could either spend his entire life trying desperately not to scratch that itch, or he could just do it and see what would happen. Maybe he’d hate it and would never want to go back; this didn’t have to be a losing battle.
Scott didn’t live far away; Theodore remembered they’d never taken the same bus home and how upset Nadia had been about it. That prompted him to ask Scott about her and what had happened between them—hadn’t they hung out after the prom? Scott gave him a look.
“Yeah, we hung out.” Scott’s tone was casual, a one-shoulder shrug going with it. “Nadia’s cool, but nothing happened between us. We’re just friends.”
“So you didn’t sneak off and make out that day.”
“Nah, we just talked about some random stuff, nothing flirty. She seemed pretty nervous at the beginning, but it didn’t last long. There’s only so much about high school you can bring up, you know?”
Hm.
The others passed each other glances, unsure what to make of this either.
“Would you have kissed her? Like, is she your type?”
Scott fully shrugged this time. “Sure, why not? I just don’t think I’m her type.” He opened the front door and walked in. “Thanks for the good time, guys. Don’t take too long.”
“Promise.” Dylan grinned.
In what world would Scott Holliday, Nadia’s crush since eighth grade, not be her type? It didn’t make sense. Yes, she shared a room with Daisy now, and they were completely inseparable, but they’d only moved in after prom night. Something must’ve happened then. Theodore parted his lips to ask, but Scott shut the door before he could. On second thought, it was better that way; he should be asking Nadia about this stuff, anyway.
Following the others out of Scott’s front yard, he once again remembered their final destination, and promptly forgot about everything else. Only the fast beating of his heart and the excitement that ran in his veins mattered right now.
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