'One Week'. Ry/Col/...Greg? Fic. Part Three.
And here's the final part. :) Read 1 & 2 first of course.
Tuesday
They were kissing.
They were devouring each other, bodies pressed tightly together in the dark damp alleyway outside the club as they rubbed against each other, their movements jolty and desperate. They were kissing passionately, the wet sounds mingling with their moans and echoing around.
I tried to back away, leave before they noticed me, but my foot slipped on something, a can, and I tripped, my keys jangling and my feet stamping against the ground as I struggled to stay upright. I managed, but even I could hear how loud I had been, the noise echoing in the darkness.
They heard me, their lips parting and their heads tilting together so they were both facing me. They looked over at me, both panting, hot and flushed, their eyes bright and shiny in the dim light.
Greg raised an eyebrow at me, a smirk forming on his lips despite his obvious breathlessness.
"Well, look who it is. Hi Colin." He murmured, the words a breathy moan, yet he didn't seem to have any problem with what I had just interrupted. I bounced on the spot, backing up a few paces, ready to leave and go... anywhere else.
"Sorry, I..." I started, not sure where I was going with it. I just needed to be away from them, because I had clearly interrupted something.
Greg raised an eyebrow, ready for my explanation for why I was here, but Ryan, who had been simply staring at me, suddenly gave Greg a gentle shove and pulled away from his embrace, his fingers sliding along Greg's hips as he did.
"You all right?" Ryan asked me, concerned and I wished he would tell me to fuck off instead of looking at me like that, taking a step closer.
I backed up, "I'm fine, I just... I was walking, and my feet must've led me here. I'm leaving though. Sorry for interrupting..."
"Trouble in paradise?" Greg asked, his eyebrow raised, and I'm sure my eyes widened. I wasn't sure why they weren't sending me away, I couldn't spill to them my troubles as they stood there, both still flushed and their lips red, especially when part of my problem had involved me doing the exact same thing with Ryan the day before.
I shook my head, though it was obvious it was a lie, and I simply stood, my arms dangling uselessly at me side, my feet scuffing the concrete beneath me.
I bit my lip, and looked down.
"Come with us." Ryan said finally, touching my arm gently as he walked sideways past me towards his car. I shivered, pulling my jacket closer around me, despite the warmth of the air. I followed Ryan, reluctantly, standing a few paces behind him, with Greg doing the same behind me.
We reached his car quickly, a large black boxy vehicle that was dirty and old and had more than a few dents. I eyed it wearily, jumping slightly when Ryan opened the door for both Greg and me. Greg jumped in quickly, the car door creaking as it was slammed. I gave Ryan a look as he waited patiently for me, tilting his head and indicating for me to get in. I did, wondering why I was, and the door slammed behind me, rattling loudly.
My feet clanged against the cans that littered the floor and I found that counting the broken threads in the upholstery served as a wonderful distraction from my racing thoughts.
As the car roared to life, the engine growling like an angry and sick lion, I fiddled with the corner of my coat, cursing myself for leaving my warm bed and taking a walk, knowing deep down inside that I would end up at that club.
Ever since that first night, I had been pulled in, desperate to taste a bit of their life, a world away from my own.
We eventually pulled up outside an old apartment block, black bags and trash cans littering the side walk, a man curled up asleep just outside, a fur coat covering him. I eyed him briefly, but my attention was quickly torn away as I realised that the guys had left the car already.
I caught up with them, tripping over my feet as I followed them inside, leaving behind the sounds of sirens blaring, cars rushing past and a dog barking angrily.
I took a deep breath before I entered the hallway, pleasantly surprised once I did that it didn't smell as bad as I was expecting. I followed them down metal stairs, the harsh sound of our shoes against the steps echoing in the silent entranceway.
I wasn't even sure why I was following them. I didn't know either of them well, and I really should have been at home, curled up with my soon to be wife, miles away from here. Yet somehow, that didn't sound as appealing as it used to.
Greg opened a door and they both went in without waiting for me. I looked up and down the dark corridor, noting the dirty cream paint peeling in the corners, the floor a mismatch of different tiles. I hesitated outside for a second, before stepping gingerly into the apartment, pulling the door shut behind me.
Ryan was already flittering around, switching on the odd lamp and picking up random items that were spread around. He picked up a newspaper, some letters and other odd items, tidying them away and then he grabbed some bottles off the floor and shoved them into a bucket by the door.
The room was oddly appealing, despite it’s external appearance. It was small, a kitchenette on one side, with dark wood cabinets, and a black worktop. A living area in front, with two worn red sofas, each with tears and cigarette burns, yet they had been covered haphazardly with cushions of various colours, making the area seem strangely soft.
There was little else in the room; a trash can on one side with the bucket next to it, filled high with beer and soda bottles. A little brown side-table with an ashtray on it, a small television, balanced precariously on another little brown side-table that was much too small for it.
Three doors led off from the main room, all shut. There was a dining table shoved against one wall, where Ryan had piled the paper's he'd collected up. He'd tossed his keys there too.
There were two photo frames on it, the only personal touch the apartment seem to have, and I looked harder to see that one had the pair of them, clearly at the club, cigarettes in hand, surrounded by gorgeous girls, draped theatrically over them. The other picture seemed soft compared to it, the two of them, with another two men I didn't recognise, arms around each other, smiling happily at the camera, their eyes sparkling.
As I studied the apartment, Greg had relaxed on the sofa, lighting up a cigarette. He was watching me, shooting glances to Ryan, who was over by the kitchen. I turned to look at them, fidgeting on the spot, my hands twitching as I didn't know what to do with them.
Ryan pulled some shot glasses from a cupboard and then filled them with an amber liquid, pouring expertly, making a little show of it.
"Sit." He instructed me, as he walked over, carrying the glasses between long fingers.
I did, sitting on the other sofa, to the side of the one Greg was on. Ryan handed Greg a glass, handing me another, before perching on the end of the Greg's sofa, so he was actually closer to me than the other man.
He clinked his glass gently against Greg's, doing the same to mine, not waiting for me to lift it, and then downed his in one. I followed his lead, as did Greg, and enjoyed the burn as it slipped down my throat.
We sat together in what felt like comfortable silence, yet it couldn't have been, because there was so much unsaid between us.
Ryan rubbed at his lip absently, drawing my attention to it, and I suddenly remembered exactly what I had interrupted.
I stood up quickly, juggling the glass between my hands, almost dropping it. "I should go. I interrupted... I should go." I told them quickly, the words falling out of my mouth as I moved quickly towards the door, not even thinking how I was going to get home.
A firm hand touched my shoulder, the feel of it making me jump and shiver at the same time, and pushed me back down. I put up no resistance, falling back onto the soft sofa. The springs in it had long gone, because it sunk beneath me, enveloping me inside it.
Surprisingly, Greg spoke first, "You didn't interrupt anything. Stiles is just a cock-tease." He said, smirking to himself at the joke.
I coughed on my drink, despite having swallowed it many minutes ago.
"You wish, Proops." Ryan said quietly, shooting him a little smirk, and I was once again completely lost.
"You know, it's not even the weekend." I told them, because it was the only thing my mouth seemed to be able to say, and I let out what seemed to me as an almost hysterical laugh.
What the fuck was I doing here?
Greg snorted, and Ryan chuckled and the sound merged, much like they seemed to do. Then the silence settled and I just sat, staring into the air, my thoughts a mess that was jumbling together in my mind.
"I'm fucking tired man." Greg said eventually, his eyes glazing over and I realised that maybe it wasn't a cigarette he was smoking. He stood up quickly, wobbling slightly yet remaining graceful and still I wasn't sure how I hadn't noticed that he wasn't completely with us.
He leant over and gave Ryan a quick kiss on the lips, much like I how I would kiss my fiancée, yet it seemed chaste compared to what I had seen of them before.
Before I realised what he was doing, he did the same to me, kissing me on the lips briefly. I couldn't help comparing it to how Ryan had kissed me, and it was completely different, too quick to take in, and yet still so different to anything I was used to, especially from a friend.
He let out a yawn.
"Keep the noise down if you fuck, eh?" He mumbled as he left, running a hand through his hair making it stand up even more, before disappearing through one of the doors, pushing it shut behind him. I watched him go.
After a moment, Ryan moved off the sofa and settled down next to me, turning sideways so I was his full attention. "So, what brought you to wandering the streets and three am when I know you have a bed to go home to?"
I wanted to ask him just how he knew that, but I didn't, instead I found myself talking to him, letting it spill how nervous I was about the wedding, how since I had stepped into that awful bar, I hadn't been able to get him out of my mind, and how I wasn't sure of who I was any more. The words flowed easily and I felt myself relaxing in his company.
He listened, and he kissed me, just one or twice, softly and not misleading, simply comfort.
And the whole time he had his hand on my arm, or on my knee, constantly touching me, and I wondered how I had ever done without the feel of him there.
-
Wednesday
I had nowhere else to go. That was my excuse for why I was once again entering the smoky bar, the music now familiar, washing over me in a comforting way, despite the heavy beat rattling me to my core.
Brad was on a business trip, god only knows where, and I had no other confidants, everyone else more like acquaintances than friends, those that you talk to but wouldn't share with.
I was blissfully ignoring the fact that usually, if I ever fought with her, I'd simply spend some time alone, at the park or walking through the city.
Still, I was here now. And this wasn't about him.
I simply needed to think, and not be alone. It had nothing to do with the fact that I could still feel my body tingle from where had touched me the night before, that I could still feel his lips against my cheek as he kissed it before dropping me home to change for work. Nothing to do with the fact that I could still see him drive away as I stood watching him go; completely unaware I was being stared at myself, from the window.
She hadn't believed me, when I said he was just a friend. She had been quick to assume I had cheated with him, too quick, which made me doubt even more the state of our relationship, and whether we really should be getting married.
"Hello sexy," A voice said, interrupting my thoughts, and I realised I had walked over to the bar. Behind it stood Greg, pouring beer from a tap, a shiny pattern on his black shirt glinting in the spotlights. His eyes were twinkling, and he was serving a customer with that practised grace, his eyes alert and sparkling, quite different to how he had been last night.
I smiled at him, but couldn't help my eyes wandering around the bar. It was Greg's night to perform if I was following the every other day deal, and so Ryan should have been behind the bar.
"Our little stud is off tonight," Greg told me, clearly noticing, and I wanted to protest to say that I wasn't really looking for him, that I didn't really mind.
Except I had been, and I did.
"Oh." I muttered, failing to hide my disappointment and knowing it. I bit my lip, sitting down on my stool, the one I had come to favour, and leaning against the bar.
Greg laughed, and I felt embarrassed by how needy I sounded, my cheeks turning pink once more.
What was happening to me?
"Whipped already eh? And yet I didn't hear anything last night..." He said, raising his eyebrows in a question, his smirk firmly in place.
My eyes widened. "We didn't..." I mumbled, biting my lip again and rolling my eyes at how pathetic I was sounding. I felt like fifteen year old with a crush; trying to casually bump into them and blushing any time anyone else mentioned them.
Greg laughed again, his eyes twinkling as he placed a glass of my usual in front of me, bending over the bar in a similar way to how Ryan usually did.
"Well okay then." He said, yet he was kind enough to not sound too sarcastic and I mentally thanked him for it. I looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes, as I was still uncertain about their own relationship.
Despite everything, I was inexplicably drawn to Greg as well, and I just wanted to know more.
He lit up a cigarette, inhaling the smoke slowly, briefly closing his eyes with a look of ecstasy on his face.
When he opened them, he stared at me for a long moment, casually offering me a drag. I took it. I only smoked occasionally, rarely indulging, yet I savoured the taste, it feeling warm and familiar.
When I handed it back to him, reluctantly, he took it once more, but before taking a drag, he spoke, his voice hushed.
"You know, Colin." He was drawing out my name again, making it sound dirty and sexual and I knew that I'd now forever hear it that way. "You've got Ryan acting like a lovesick puppy."
My eyes widened again, and I forgot to breathe for too long, my lungs clenching in my chest. "What?"
Greg smiled languidly, "Oh, he hides it well. But I know the signs. Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind." Which actually came as a surprise to me, but then everything did here. I still hadn't quite figured things out between them, still didn't understand why one moment they were pressed together, panting and grinding and kissing messily, and the next they were ready to convince the world they were just friends. I didn't understand, but I was starting to think that maybe I never would.
This though, what Greg was saying about Ryan, that I did need to understand.
"But, last I heard you were getting married." Greg continued, unaware of my inner turmoil and confusion. I tuned in and I quickly became aware of what he was actually saying.
He was asking my intentions with Ryan.
It was almost funny, and I let out one of those little hysterical laughs I was beginning to favour.
Until the realisation of it all suck in and the laugh turned into a choked sob. How had everything got so screwed up all of a sudden? My wife-to-be wasn't even talking to me any more, and deep down I really wasn't caring as much as I should have been, the pain dull rather than sharp like it should be. I had spent the night talking and laughing with another man and the thought of her hadn't even crossed my mind.
I was feeling more comfortable in a dark dingy bar than I was in my office, and I was drawn to the man in front of me, a little child inside of me screaming 'be my friend', like a geek feels about the 'cool kid' at their school.
And that wasn't even mentioning the man I had spent the night with, the man that since I had seen him, I felt like I had found a part of me that was missing.
The man that was making me think horribly sappy things like that, and not even caring.
Fuck.
Greg was watching me and I was sure I'd probably just put on a wonderful display of mixed emotions, each flashing across my face randomly, like fireworks going off.
"Clock's ticking, Colin." Greg said suddenly, his slow drawn out tone a complete contrast to the urgency of his words. "You can't be coming here once you are a married man."
Which may not be a problem, I realised, as I downed my drink.
-
Thursday
I was mesmerised, staring at the stage, much like the other men had been, not ten minutes before.
But instead of writhing girls, dancing together, intoxicating the men with their sex appeal, I was drawn to the two guys on stage, microphones in their hands, each with a loose tie around their neck and black button-down shirts, performing in a completely different way.
This wasn't stand-up, however similar to their individual skits, it was something different, something exciting and it was drawing the attention of many more onlookers. I got the impression that tonight, not everyone was here to see the girls.
The tone in the club was different somehow, instead of impatient murmurs and rowdy patrons, the men in the bar were watching the stage with an almost respectful quietness. Not everyone was interested of course, and they still got the occasional cry for the women to return, but with that, there were also many people seemingly rooting for them.
They were performing, making things up, asking random people for odd suggestions and coming up with scenes. It wasn't a refined act, it was spontaneous and messy and more than a little vulgar, as they screwed things up, and riled up the audience, begging for suggestions, yet criticising most of them, and the people who called them out. At the base of it, however, I could see the pure talent oozing from them, their performance pulling laughs from even reluctant watchers.
I was drawn to them even more, curious about just what they were doing, about how this had even come about.
It was an odd act, like nothing I had seen, and the rawness of it, the fact that they were taking completely random suggestions, making things up as they went along, calling for an urgency to the act, and quick thinking to boot, made me respect them immensely.
I found myself rooting for them also, hoping they would get laughs, feeling elated when they did.
I felt a pull, and I wondered for the first time ever, what it was like to be up there, on stage. The idea terrified me, yet there was something deep inside of me that was drawn to it.
I wondered if I could've ever done that, if I had chosen a different path, somewhere along the way, if my life would've ever been like this, like theirs.
I wondered why I suddenly wished it was.
-
Greg eyed me warily when he first saw me, before giving me the usual smile. Neither of them seemed all that surprised I was there again, greeting me with friendly smiles, as Ryan set about pouring me a drink without even asking.
He was bouncing around behind the bar like a hyperactive puppy, on some kind of high from his performance I guessed. Greg was calmer and seemed tired more than anything else, leaning against the bar casually and I was sure he was putting most, if not all, of his weight onto it.
Smiling at me sleepily, Greg gave me a pointed look, trying to tell me something. He glanced at Ryan, and at me, and I wasn't sure what he was insinuating, but I couldn't help but think that maybe it was better if I didn't try to work it out.
"So, Col, what'd you think?" Ryan asked, interrupting whatever silent conversation Greg was trying to have with me. He placed a drink down in front of me, and then casually stole the cigarette Greg had just lit up, not bothering to pass it back when he took a drag.
Greg lit up another one and watched us, and I felt my whole body tense under his view.
I became acutely aware of every move I made, the way I smiled widely at Ryan as he spoke, the way I looked him up and down, checking him out without even realising it and the way I leant closer to him as he spoke, even though I could hear him clearly. I was aware, and yet I couldn't stop myself, as I became drawn to him.
Fuck.
Ryan was smiling at me, that smile that took over his face and crinkled up his eyes, highlighting his cheekbones, and he looked away shyly, some inbuilt reflex from working on stage, to hide his own laughter.
And I was completely mesmerised by him.
We talked, quiet words as I raved about the performance, tried to make him smile shyly again, tried to make him laugh again, loving the sound of it when I did.
At one point, Greg leant over him, whispering something in Ryan's ear that made him blush and lean back a little, hitting him lightly in the stomach. Greg laughed, his hand touching Ryan's neck casually, a tender gesture, one of those moments that just added more layers to their complex relationship.
Then Greg disappeared, running his hand over my back as he walked past, causing me to shiver under his touch, his fingers tickling my skin.
Ryan called after him, "Love you too," the words almost sarcastic, yet there wasn't a doubt in my mind that they weren't completely sincere. And somewhere in me I thought that maybe I could be jealous, but the feeling was squashed as I realised the only thing I was jealous of, was that Ryan wasn't saying the words to me as well.
I also realised, dauntingly, that I hadn't once thought of my fiancée since I stepped through the door.
-
Friday
"Don't you have a wedding tomorrow? Beauty sleep and all that." Greg asked me, when once again I found myself sat at that bar. The stool beneath me felt like mine now, and I wondered if I should write my name on it.
The idea that I had spent almost the past week in a strip club didn't bother me as it should. In fact, I felt like someone else when I was there, this new life, a new me.
"Wedding's off. And my relationship is over." I said, and I felt the usual tinges of dull pain inside me at the thought. I really had loved her, in a certain way, but something had happened to me this week, something that had changed me, bought out different parts of me, and highlighted all the problems in the relationship I had been ignoring.
People get married for a lot of reasons, and somewhere along the way, I had picked the wrong ones.
"Sorry." Greg said, yet he sounded anything but. He sounded relieved, which, out of every emotion, wasn't one I was expecting. "So, planning on making home with Stiles?" He said casually.
I choked on my drink.
I shouldn't have been so surprised, I could admit the thought had crossed my mind, fleetingly, yet I had dismissed it as a crazy dream, and a step to fast. I had never even been in a relationship with a man, and a week ago, I would've thought anyone crazy to even suggest I would want to be. So from that, to ending up with a man, even if he was a wonderfully fascinating man that I hadn't been able to get out of my mind...
"But you and him..." I said, because it was still there, a little nagging voice that was moaning that it was confused. They had a relationship, their own special very confusing relationship, that I couldn't disrupt, and wouldn't want to.
"Aren't anything like that. I love him, and I'll fuck him in a heartbeat, but it's not..." He paused, and I realised somewhere, that maybe I wasn't the only one that couldn't understand their relationship, that maybe neither of them really knew what it was they shared. "We're close. That bother you?"
I shook my head quickly, because it didn't. In fact, it had been what had drawn me to them.
It was bizarre and much too quick, my whole life changing in a heartbeat, just because Brad had decided to drag me out to a strip club I didn't want to go to, for a party I didn't want to have. "I can't believe I'm even thinking all this."
I didn't know I had muttered the statement aloud, until Greg smiled at me, tilting his head.
"Told you." He whispered, just in time for the lighting to change, the heavy beat of the music lower to almost nothing, and the spotlight to shine on Ryan on the stage.
We both turned to watch him perform.
Somehow, despite the bright light on him, and the darkness of the bar, he saw me, and met my eyes. Tilting his head at me, he paused just briefly in whatever joke he was telling. I smiled at him, and his own smile widened just for a second, and then he returned to his performance.
Greg watched the tiny exchange, saw the goofy grin that I knew I had but that I couldn't wipe away, and shook his head.
Then he slid something across the bar to me.
"Better make a copy." He murmured, and then turned his eyes back to the stage, a proud smile coming over his own face, as I picked up the object he'd passed me.
The pleasant sounds of Ryan's voice slid over me, laugher from the crowd filling the bar, and I found myself smiling once again, as I stared at the silver key in my hand.
-
Tuesday
They were kissing.
They were devouring each other, bodies pressed tightly together in the dark damp alleyway outside the club as they rubbed against each other, their movements jolty and desperate. They were kissing passionately, the wet sounds mingling with their moans and echoing around.
I tried to back away, leave before they noticed me, but my foot slipped on something, a can, and I tripped, my keys jangling and my feet stamping against the ground as I struggled to stay upright. I managed, but even I could hear how loud I had been, the noise echoing in the darkness.
They heard me, their lips parting and their heads tilting together so they were both facing me. They looked over at me, both panting, hot and flushed, their eyes bright and shiny in the dim light.
Greg raised an eyebrow at me, a smirk forming on his lips despite his obvious breathlessness.
"Well, look who it is. Hi Colin." He murmured, the words a breathy moan, yet he didn't seem to have any problem with what I had just interrupted. I bounced on the spot, backing up a few paces, ready to leave and go... anywhere else.
"Sorry, I..." I started, not sure where I was going with it. I just needed to be away from them, because I had clearly interrupted something.
Greg raised an eyebrow, ready for my explanation for why I was here, but Ryan, who had been simply staring at me, suddenly gave Greg a gentle shove and pulled away from his embrace, his fingers sliding along Greg's hips as he did.
"You all right?" Ryan asked me, concerned and I wished he would tell me to fuck off instead of looking at me like that, taking a step closer.
I backed up, "I'm fine, I just... I was walking, and my feet must've led me here. I'm leaving though. Sorry for interrupting..."
"Trouble in paradise?" Greg asked, his eyebrow raised, and I'm sure my eyes widened. I wasn't sure why they weren't sending me away, I couldn't spill to them my troubles as they stood there, both still flushed and their lips red, especially when part of my problem had involved me doing the exact same thing with Ryan the day before.
I shook my head, though it was obvious it was a lie, and I simply stood, my arms dangling uselessly at me side, my feet scuffing the concrete beneath me.
I bit my lip, and looked down.
"Come with us." Ryan said finally, touching my arm gently as he walked sideways past me towards his car. I shivered, pulling my jacket closer around me, despite the warmth of the air. I followed Ryan, reluctantly, standing a few paces behind him, with Greg doing the same behind me.
We reached his car quickly, a large black boxy vehicle that was dirty and old and had more than a few dents. I eyed it wearily, jumping slightly when Ryan opened the door for both Greg and me. Greg jumped in quickly, the car door creaking as it was slammed. I gave Ryan a look as he waited patiently for me, tilting his head and indicating for me to get in. I did, wondering why I was, and the door slammed behind me, rattling loudly.
My feet clanged against the cans that littered the floor and I found that counting the broken threads in the upholstery served as a wonderful distraction from my racing thoughts.
As the car roared to life, the engine growling like an angry and sick lion, I fiddled with the corner of my coat, cursing myself for leaving my warm bed and taking a walk, knowing deep down inside that I would end up at that club.
Ever since that first night, I had been pulled in, desperate to taste a bit of their life, a world away from my own.
We eventually pulled up outside an old apartment block, black bags and trash cans littering the side walk, a man curled up asleep just outside, a fur coat covering him. I eyed him briefly, but my attention was quickly torn away as I realised that the guys had left the car already.
I caught up with them, tripping over my feet as I followed them inside, leaving behind the sounds of sirens blaring, cars rushing past and a dog barking angrily.
I took a deep breath before I entered the hallway, pleasantly surprised once I did that it didn't smell as bad as I was expecting. I followed them down metal stairs, the harsh sound of our shoes against the steps echoing in the silent entranceway.
I wasn't even sure why I was following them. I didn't know either of them well, and I really should have been at home, curled up with my soon to be wife, miles away from here. Yet somehow, that didn't sound as appealing as it used to.
Greg opened a door and they both went in without waiting for me. I looked up and down the dark corridor, noting the dirty cream paint peeling in the corners, the floor a mismatch of different tiles. I hesitated outside for a second, before stepping gingerly into the apartment, pulling the door shut behind me.
Ryan was already flittering around, switching on the odd lamp and picking up random items that were spread around. He picked up a newspaper, some letters and other odd items, tidying them away and then he grabbed some bottles off the floor and shoved them into a bucket by the door.
The room was oddly appealing, despite it’s external appearance. It was small, a kitchenette on one side, with dark wood cabinets, and a black worktop. A living area in front, with two worn red sofas, each with tears and cigarette burns, yet they had been covered haphazardly with cushions of various colours, making the area seem strangely soft.
There was little else in the room; a trash can on one side with the bucket next to it, filled high with beer and soda bottles. A little brown side-table with an ashtray on it, a small television, balanced precariously on another little brown side-table that was much too small for it.
Three doors led off from the main room, all shut. There was a dining table shoved against one wall, where Ryan had piled the paper's he'd collected up. He'd tossed his keys there too.
There were two photo frames on it, the only personal touch the apartment seem to have, and I looked harder to see that one had the pair of them, clearly at the club, cigarettes in hand, surrounded by gorgeous girls, draped theatrically over them. The other picture seemed soft compared to it, the two of them, with another two men I didn't recognise, arms around each other, smiling happily at the camera, their eyes sparkling.
As I studied the apartment, Greg had relaxed on the sofa, lighting up a cigarette. He was watching me, shooting glances to Ryan, who was over by the kitchen. I turned to look at them, fidgeting on the spot, my hands twitching as I didn't know what to do with them.
Ryan pulled some shot glasses from a cupboard and then filled them with an amber liquid, pouring expertly, making a little show of it.
"Sit." He instructed me, as he walked over, carrying the glasses between long fingers.
I did, sitting on the other sofa, to the side of the one Greg was on. Ryan handed Greg a glass, handing me another, before perching on the end of the Greg's sofa, so he was actually closer to me than the other man.
He clinked his glass gently against Greg's, doing the same to mine, not waiting for me to lift it, and then downed his in one. I followed his lead, as did Greg, and enjoyed the burn as it slipped down my throat.
We sat together in what felt like comfortable silence, yet it couldn't have been, because there was so much unsaid between us.
Ryan rubbed at his lip absently, drawing my attention to it, and I suddenly remembered exactly what I had interrupted.
I stood up quickly, juggling the glass between my hands, almost dropping it. "I should go. I interrupted... I should go." I told them quickly, the words falling out of my mouth as I moved quickly towards the door, not even thinking how I was going to get home.
A firm hand touched my shoulder, the feel of it making me jump and shiver at the same time, and pushed me back down. I put up no resistance, falling back onto the soft sofa. The springs in it had long gone, because it sunk beneath me, enveloping me inside it.
Surprisingly, Greg spoke first, "You didn't interrupt anything. Stiles is just a cock-tease." He said, smirking to himself at the joke.
I coughed on my drink, despite having swallowed it many minutes ago.
"You wish, Proops." Ryan said quietly, shooting him a little smirk, and I was once again completely lost.
"You know, it's not even the weekend." I told them, because it was the only thing my mouth seemed to be able to say, and I let out what seemed to me as an almost hysterical laugh.
What the fuck was I doing here?
Greg snorted, and Ryan chuckled and the sound merged, much like they seemed to do. Then the silence settled and I just sat, staring into the air, my thoughts a mess that was jumbling together in my mind.
"I'm fucking tired man." Greg said eventually, his eyes glazing over and I realised that maybe it wasn't a cigarette he was smoking. He stood up quickly, wobbling slightly yet remaining graceful and still I wasn't sure how I hadn't noticed that he wasn't completely with us.
He leant over and gave Ryan a quick kiss on the lips, much like I how I would kiss my fiancée, yet it seemed chaste compared to what I had seen of them before.
Before I realised what he was doing, he did the same to me, kissing me on the lips briefly. I couldn't help comparing it to how Ryan had kissed me, and it was completely different, too quick to take in, and yet still so different to anything I was used to, especially from a friend.
He let out a yawn.
"Keep the noise down if you fuck, eh?" He mumbled as he left, running a hand through his hair making it stand up even more, before disappearing through one of the doors, pushing it shut behind him. I watched him go.
After a moment, Ryan moved off the sofa and settled down next to me, turning sideways so I was his full attention. "So, what brought you to wandering the streets and three am when I know you have a bed to go home to?"
I wanted to ask him just how he knew that, but I didn't, instead I found myself talking to him, letting it spill how nervous I was about the wedding, how since I had stepped into that awful bar, I hadn't been able to get him out of my mind, and how I wasn't sure of who I was any more. The words flowed easily and I felt myself relaxing in his company.
He listened, and he kissed me, just one or twice, softly and not misleading, simply comfort.
And the whole time he had his hand on my arm, or on my knee, constantly touching me, and I wondered how I had ever done without the feel of him there.
-
Wednesday
I had nowhere else to go. That was my excuse for why I was once again entering the smoky bar, the music now familiar, washing over me in a comforting way, despite the heavy beat rattling me to my core.
Brad was on a business trip, god only knows where, and I had no other confidants, everyone else more like acquaintances than friends, those that you talk to but wouldn't share with.
I was blissfully ignoring the fact that usually, if I ever fought with her, I'd simply spend some time alone, at the park or walking through the city.
Still, I was here now. And this wasn't about him.
I simply needed to think, and not be alone. It had nothing to do with the fact that I could still feel my body tingle from where had touched me the night before, that I could still feel his lips against my cheek as he kissed it before dropping me home to change for work. Nothing to do with the fact that I could still see him drive away as I stood watching him go; completely unaware I was being stared at myself, from the window.
She hadn't believed me, when I said he was just a friend. She had been quick to assume I had cheated with him, too quick, which made me doubt even more the state of our relationship, and whether we really should be getting married.
"Hello sexy," A voice said, interrupting my thoughts, and I realised I had walked over to the bar. Behind it stood Greg, pouring beer from a tap, a shiny pattern on his black shirt glinting in the spotlights. His eyes were twinkling, and he was serving a customer with that practised grace, his eyes alert and sparkling, quite different to how he had been last night.
I smiled at him, but couldn't help my eyes wandering around the bar. It was Greg's night to perform if I was following the every other day deal, and so Ryan should have been behind the bar.
"Our little stud is off tonight," Greg told me, clearly noticing, and I wanted to protest to say that I wasn't really looking for him, that I didn't really mind.
Except I had been, and I did.
"Oh." I muttered, failing to hide my disappointment and knowing it. I bit my lip, sitting down on my stool, the one I had come to favour, and leaning against the bar.
Greg laughed, and I felt embarrassed by how needy I sounded, my cheeks turning pink once more.
What was happening to me?
"Whipped already eh? And yet I didn't hear anything last night..." He said, raising his eyebrows in a question, his smirk firmly in place.
My eyes widened. "We didn't..." I mumbled, biting my lip again and rolling my eyes at how pathetic I was sounding. I felt like fifteen year old with a crush; trying to casually bump into them and blushing any time anyone else mentioned them.
Greg laughed again, his eyes twinkling as he placed a glass of my usual in front of me, bending over the bar in a similar way to how Ryan usually did.
"Well okay then." He said, yet he was kind enough to not sound too sarcastic and I mentally thanked him for it. I looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes, as I was still uncertain about their own relationship.
Despite everything, I was inexplicably drawn to Greg as well, and I just wanted to know more.
He lit up a cigarette, inhaling the smoke slowly, briefly closing his eyes with a look of ecstasy on his face.
When he opened them, he stared at me for a long moment, casually offering me a drag. I took it. I only smoked occasionally, rarely indulging, yet I savoured the taste, it feeling warm and familiar.
When I handed it back to him, reluctantly, he took it once more, but before taking a drag, he spoke, his voice hushed.
"You know, Colin." He was drawing out my name again, making it sound dirty and sexual and I knew that I'd now forever hear it that way. "You've got Ryan acting like a lovesick puppy."
My eyes widened again, and I forgot to breathe for too long, my lungs clenching in my chest. "What?"
Greg smiled languidly, "Oh, he hides it well. But I know the signs. Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind." Which actually came as a surprise to me, but then everything did here. I still hadn't quite figured things out between them, still didn't understand why one moment they were pressed together, panting and grinding and kissing messily, and the next they were ready to convince the world they were just friends. I didn't understand, but I was starting to think that maybe I never would.
This though, what Greg was saying about Ryan, that I did need to understand.
"But, last I heard you were getting married." Greg continued, unaware of my inner turmoil and confusion. I tuned in and I quickly became aware of what he was actually saying.
He was asking my intentions with Ryan.
It was almost funny, and I let out one of those little hysterical laughs I was beginning to favour.
Until the realisation of it all suck in and the laugh turned into a choked sob. How had everything got so screwed up all of a sudden? My wife-to-be wasn't even talking to me any more, and deep down I really wasn't caring as much as I should have been, the pain dull rather than sharp like it should be. I had spent the night talking and laughing with another man and the thought of her hadn't even crossed my mind.
I was feeling more comfortable in a dark dingy bar than I was in my office, and I was drawn to the man in front of me, a little child inside of me screaming 'be my friend', like a geek feels about the 'cool kid' at their school.
And that wasn't even mentioning the man I had spent the night with, the man that since I had seen him, I felt like I had found a part of me that was missing.
The man that was making me think horribly sappy things like that, and not even caring.
Fuck.
Greg was watching me and I was sure I'd probably just put on a wonderful display of mixed emotions, each flashing across my face randomly, like fireworks going off.
"Clock's ticking, Colin." Greg said suddenly, his slow drawn out tone a complete contrast to the urgency of his words. "You can't be coming here once you are a married man."
Which may not be a problem, I realised, as I downed my drink.
-
Thursday
I was mesmerised, staring at the stage, much like the other men had been, not ten minutes before.
But instead of writhing girls, dancing together, intoxicating the men with their sex appeal, I was drawn to the two guys on stage, microphones in their hands, each with a loose tie around their neck and black button-down shirts, performing in a completely different way.
This wasn't stand-up, however similar to their individual skits, it was something different, something exciting and it was drawing the attention of many more onlookers. I got the impression that tonight, not everyone was here to see the girls.
The tone in the club was different somehow, instead of impatient murmurs and rowdy patrons, the men in the bar were watching the stage with an almost respectful quietness. Not everyone was interested of course, and they still got the occasional cry for the women to return, but with that, there were also many people seemingly rooting for them.
They were performing, making things up, asking random people for odd suggestions and coming up with scenes. It wasn't a refined act, it was spontaneous and messy and more than a little vulgar, as they screwed things up, and riled up the audience, begging for suggestions, yet criticising most of them, and the people who called them out. At the base of it, however, I could see the pure talent oozing from them, their performance pulling laughs from even reluctant watchers.
I was drawn to them even more, curious about just what they were doing, about how this had even come about.
It was an odd act, like nothing I had seen, and the rawness of it, the fact that they were taking completely random suggestions, making things up as they went along, calling for an urgency to the act, and quick thinking to boot, made me respect them immensely.
I found myself rooting for them also, hoping they would get laughs, feeling elated when they did.
I felt a pull, and I wondered for the first time ever, what it was like to be up there, on stage. The idea terrified me, yet there was something deep inside of me that was drawn to it.
I wondered if I could've ever done that, if I had chosen a different path, somewhere along the way, if my life would've ever been like this, like theirs.
I wondered why I suddenly wished it was.
-
Greg eyed me warily when he first saw me, before giving me the usual smile. Neither of them seemed all that surprised I was there again, greeting me with friendly smiles, as Ryan set about pouring me a drink without even asking.
He was bouncing around behind the bar like a hyperactive puppy, on some kind of high from his performance I guessed. Greg was calmer and seemed tired more than anything else, leaning against the bar casually and I was sure he was putting most, if not all, of his weight onto it.
Smiling at me sleepily, Greg gave me a pointed look, trying to tell me something. He glanced at Ryan, and at me, and I wasn't sure what he was insinuating, but I couldn't help but think that maybe it was better if I didn't try to work it out.
"So, Col, what'd you think?" Ryan asked, interrupting whatever silent conversation Greg was trying to have with me. He placed a drink down in front of me, and then casually stole the cigarette Greg had just lit up, not bothering to pass it back when he took a drag.
Greg lit up another one and watched us, and I felt my whole body tense under his view.
I became acutely aware of every move I made, the way I smiled widely at Ryan as he spoke, the way I looked him up and down, checking him out without even realising it and the way I leant closer to him as he spoke, even though I could hear him clearly. I was aware, and yet I couldn't stop myself, as I became drawn to him.
Fuck.
Ryan was smiling at me, that smile that took over his face and crinkled up his eyes, highlighting his cheekbones, and he looked away shyly, some inbuilt reflex from working on stage, to hide his own laughter.
And I was completely mesmerised by him.
We talked, quiet words as I raved about the performance, tried to make him smile shyly again, tried to make him laugh again, loving the sound of it when I did.
At one point, Greg leant over him, whispering something in Ryan's ear that made him blush and lean back a little, hitting him lightly in the stomach. Greg laughed, his hand touching Ryan's neck casually, a tender gesture, one of those moments that just added more layers to their complex relationship.
Then Greg disappeared, running his hand over my back as he walked past, causing me to shiver under his touch, his fingers tickling my skin.
Ryan called after him, "Love you too," the words almost sarcastic, yet there wasn't a doubt in my mind that they weren't completely sincere. And somewhere in me I thought that maybe I could be jealous, but the feeling was squashed as I realised the only thing I was jealous of, was that Ryan wasn't saying the words to me as well.
I also realised, dauntingly, that I hadn't once thought of my fiancée since I stepped through the door.
-
Friday
"Don't you have a wedding tomorrow? Beauty sleep and all that." Greg asked me, when once again I found myself sat at that bar. The stool beneath me felt like mine now, and I wondered if I should write my name on it.
The idea that I had spent almost the past week in a strip club didn't bother me as it should. In fact, I felt like someone else when I was there, this new life, a new me.
"Wedding's off. And my relationship is over." I said, and I felt the usual tinges of dull pain inside me at the thought. I really had loved her, in a certain way, but something had happened to me this week, something that had changed me, bought out different parts of me, and highlighted all the problems in the relationship I had been ignoring.
People get married for a lot of reasons, and somewhere along the way, I had picked the wrong ones.
"Sorry." Greg said, yet he sounded anything but. He sounded relieved, which, out of every emotion, wasn't one I was expecting. "So, planning on making home with Stiles?" He said casually.
I choked on my drink.
I shouldn't have been so surprised, I could admit the thought had crossed my mind, fleetingly, yet I had dismissed it as a crazy dream, and a step to fast. I had never even been in a relationship with a man, and a week ago, I would've thought anyone crazy to even suggest I would want to be. So from that, to ending up with a man, even if he was a wonderfully fascinating man that I hadn't been able to get out of my mind...
"But you and him..." I said, because it was still there, a little nagging voice that was moaning that it was confused. They had a relationship, their own special very confusing relationship, that I couldn't disrupt, and wouldn't want to.
"Aren't anything like that. I love him, and I'll fuck him in a heartbeat, but it's not..." He paused, and I realised somewhere, that maybe I wasn't the only one that couldn't understand their relationship, that maybe neither of them really knew what it was they shared. "We're close. That bother you?"
I shook my head quickly, because it didn't. In fact, it had been what had drawn me to them.
It was bizarre and much too quick, my whole life changing in a heartbeat, just because Brad had decided to drag me out to a strip club I didn't want to go to, for a party I didn't want to have. "I can't believe I'm even thinking all this."
I didn't know I had muttered the statement aloud, until Greg smiled at me, tilting his head.
"Told you." He whispered, just in time for the lighting to change, the heavy beat of the music lower to almost nothing, and the spotlight to shine on Ryan on the stage.
We both turned to watch him perform.
Somehow, despite the bright light on him, and the darkness of the bar, he saw me, and met my eyes. Tilting his head at me, he paused just briefly in whatever joke he was telling. I smiled at him, and his own smile widened just for a second, and then he returned to his performance.
Greg watched the tiny exchange, saw the goofy grin that I knew I had but that I couldn't wipe away, and shook his head.
Then he slid something across the bar to me.
"Better make a copy." He murmured, and then turned his eyes back to the stage, a proud smile coming over his own face, as I picked up the object he'd passed me.
The pleasant sounds of Ryan's voice slid over me, laugher from the crowd filling the bar, and I found myself smiling once again, as I stared at the silver key in my hand.
-