Archive of Our Own

Part One: Burn, baby, burn

“OW, fuck! Shit!” Gilbert yelped and dropped his cigarette to the ground. “That was stupid. Jesus, that was so stupid.” He laughed through the pain and reached inside his leather jacket pocket for his phone. He had felt it vibrate earlier.

It was Elizaveta calling. He should probably pick up—right?

Sucking in a breath, he accepted the call. “Wow, Eliza. What timing. Are you as horny as I am?”

“You’re an asshole,” Elizaveta growled. “What the hell was that voicemail you left me yesterday?”

“Voicemail?” Gilbert repeated as he tried to recall the memory. He had been drinking last night. And the night before. And… he didn’t really remember much from this week, actually. “Damn, I called you?”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember since you clearly put all of your creative energy into describing the many virtues of your—and I’m quoting directly here—fucking AWESOME dick.”

Gilbert burst into a loud guffaw and grabbed the side of the building for support. “Okay, I don’t remember that,” he wheezed when he could finally talk again. “But you gotta admit, that’s pretty hilarious.”

“Hilarious? Hardly. Gilbert, we broke up,” Elizaveta exclaimed. “I thought we both agreed to this. And breaking up means no more sexting. No more leaving disturbingly detailed voicemails about your genitals when you’re drunk and horny. Frankly, I’m fucking sick of this!”

Gilbert groaned and lowered the phone from his ear. He really did not need to hear this today. 

“Are you listening?” Elizaveta demanded. “Because I need you to tell me that you understand that we’re through for good. As in, we’re just friends.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gilbert sighed and reached inside his pocket to pull out his cigarettes and lighter. “Friends. Platonic and totally not attracted to each other in any way…even though you said I gave you the best orgasm of your life—”

“GOOD-BYE,” Elizaveta screamed, and the line went dead.

Gilbert tossed his head against the wall. “Great,” he sighed. And then he tucked a cigarette between his lips and lit it. Time to leave.

It was dark and faintly cold. Gilbert left the outside of his apartment building in search of something different to do this evening, but there weren’t really that many options in his hometown. So, he was heading to a bar. He just wasn’t sure which one it was going to be yet.

The downtown was fairly busy by weekday standards, and he had to walk on the other side of the curb to avoid blowing smoke in other pedestrians’ faces. As he was walking around his go-to grocery store, he noticed a large man in a long, tan-colored coat sitting on the ground. He was wailing loudly, and when Gilbert glanced around, he noticed that other people were staring at the strange character as well.

Gilbert didn’t really think of himself as the good Samaritan type, but it also wasn’t so often that he saw grown adults crying on the street. No one else seemed like they were going to try talking to this guy. Maybe Gilbert should just give it a shot.

“Uh, hey man. Are you all right?” Gilbert prompted, stopping about a foot away from the stranger.

The man had his hands fisted in his pale blond hair. It almost looked gray in the dingy street lighting. He didn’t even look up when he spoke. “My…cigarettes,” he hiccupped, “Are BROKEN.” And then he doubled over and bawled into his palms.

“Oh,” Gilbert replied with a short laugh. This guy had to be drunk off his ass. He was crying over broken cigarettes? Well, it’s not like Gilbert hadn’t broken down over crazier things before. “Come on, it’s all right,” he assured and patted the guy’s back with his free hand. “Why don’t I help you get up?”

“What’s the point? I ruin everything—everything!” the man wailed, burrowing into the sleeves of his coat. “It’s all over. I don’t know what to do. I’m done with. Why did I survive?”

“Oh boy,” Gilbert rolled his eyes. He caught the curious stares of some people exiting the store and gave them a short wave, hoping that would deter them from calling the police on this poor guy. Gilbert sat down on the stoop, just next to the strange man. He pulled out his package of cigarettes and tapped the guy’s back. “Look, it’s all right. You can share mine.”

That made the man look up. He stared at Gilbert with eerie, purple eyes. “Really?” he said, wiping some of the tears from his cheeks.

“You’re literally crying over broken cigarettes. Yes, please take some of mine,” Gilbert chuckled and pushed the box into the man’s hand. He handed over his lighter next. 

“Hm, you’re strange,” the man said as he puffed out his first cloud of smoke. 

“Seriously? You’re calling me strange?” Gilbert raised a brow. “I’m not the one who’s bawling in front of a grocery store.”

“I just moved here,” the man confessed with an echo of a cry in his voice. He puffed again on the cigarette. “And I realized that my sister stole my wallet before I left.”

“For real? That’s devious,” Gilbert cackled and gave the man a slap on the back. “I thought I was having a shitty day, but you’re making me feel a hell of a lot better already.”

“I haven’t eaten in two days,” the man moaned, “And I just finished the last of my vodka.” He pulled out a silver flask and turned it upside down, letting a single drop fall out.

The grin faded from Gilbert’s face. “Wait—what? You have no money, you haven’t eaten, and you’ve just been gorging yourself on alcohol? Who are you?”

“Ivan,” he said, shoving the pack of cigarettes and lighter into his coat pocket. “Thank you for the cigarettes, by the way.” 

Gilbert watched as Ivan stumbled to his feet like he was going to just—walk away. Gilbert jumped up and grabbed his sleeve. “Hold up, I said I would share my cigarettes. I didn’t say you could have them,” he blurted. And that’s about when he noticed how tall this guy was. Gilbert had to look up to make eye contact.

Ivan stared at him emptily and a small smile formed on his lips. “I’m not very good at sharing. And I don’t really want to stay here.”

“Huh?” Gilbert shook his head. This guy was weird. He raised his hands plaintively. “Okay, look. How about I take you to dinner? You said you haven’t eaten, right? Well, no wonder you’re emotional as shit. Let’s get some food in your system.”

“Food, hm,” Ivan hummed and nodded sleepily. “I wouldn’t say no to something to eat.”

Gilbert chuckled and pointed down the street. “That’s what I thought. Shit. Just follow me. We’ll grab some chips or something.”

They ended up at a tiny fish and chips joint. Gilbert ordered for both of them and they brought their bags of food to an empty table outside. There were even more people here, and three times as many seagulls, but that was the norm for this tiny, seaside town.

Gilbert couldn’t quite pin down his impression of Ivan. He seemed so emotional earlier. He was openly weeping on the street, for god’s sake. But the way he spoke was also just odd. It was really hard for Gilbert to determine if Ivan was all there.

But as the plate of cheesy chips dwindled, Gilbert noticed that the drunken glaze in Ivan’s eyes went away, and replaced with something even scarier. He actually looked intelligent. At some point, after the food and the sodas, it seemed as though Ivan looked at Gilbert for the first time all over again.

Ivan unwrapped the cream scarf around his neck and let it hand on either side of his coat lapels. Then, he lit another cigarette. That was the third one he had stolen. 

“So, are you homeless too?” Gilbert asked after a while.

Ivan shifted his dark eyes in his direction. “No, I have a place to stay.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” Gilbert laughed, scratching the back of his hand. He hissed and put his hands in his pockets. “What are you going to do about your wallet then?”

Ivan smiled. “Oh, that’s long gone now. But I have ways of getting by,” he took another drag of his cigarette. “You’ve saved me from a very long and hungry night, and I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, right. Ha! Why wouldn't you want to know my name? It’s Gilbert Bielschmidt,” Gilbert said, thrusting one hand forward.

Ivan accepted the handshake. His large hand was cold, and it sent a shiver up Gilbert’s spine. “Ah, well if you’re a Bielschmidt then you must work for Teutonic, right? The car company.”

Gilbert could only slide his hand halfway out of Ivan’s grip. He bit his lip, feeling Ivan’s thumb pressing down on the burn that had sprouted on the delicate skin there. 

“Couldn’t find an ashtray?” Ivan teased.

Gilbert's breath hitched. He was locked inside Ivan’s strong grasp and phantasmic eyes. What the hell was this? How did he notice things so quickly? 

Ivan mercifully let go of Gilbert’s hand, and continued, “Where is the obnoxious German from earlier? Don't tell me you're as sensitive as this.” 

“Wh-what?” Gilbert forced a grin onto his face. “Jesus. I can’t wrap my head around you. I thought I was being awesome by helping out some more sap who lost his wallet. I’m starting to think I’m sharing my cigarettes with the wrong guy.”

“And you’re slow, too,” Ivan purred, leaning over the table. “Or else you would have realized that earlier.” He pressed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray. “Now, where were you going before you decided to help me out.”

Gilbert blinked. This conversation was giving him whiplash. “I was going to the bar,” he managed.

“Oh, do you know a good bar? All of this food has made me far too sober.”

“Uh,” Gilbert coughed. What was going on with him? He just had to be like he always was. It shouldn’t be so hard, especially with a practical stranger. He cracked a smile. “Are you asking me to buy you drinks, too? You’re turning out to be an expensive date. And no, that’s not me picking you up. I have a feeling you don’t pick up on my sarcasm, so I’ll make it clear now that I’m not interested.” Actually, Gilbert couldn't say that he wasn't attracted to Ivan. It was a bit peculiar because Gilbert hadn't slept with a guy in ages, and when he did they were almost always Roderich-look-alikes. Never anyone as tall and domineering as this guy. But Gilbert couldn't help but wonder what this guy was packing. 

He really had to get his mind out of the gutter.

“You sure talk a lot,” Ivan mused. “All I asked was for the name of a good bar.”

Gilbert bit his lip, feeling frustrated. Come on, he thought. Just be cool. “Well, I was headed to a place called Beerwolfe. I know the owner, and he’s all right.”

“What a coincidence! I was going there, too,” Ivan said, rising to his feet. He threw the empty bags of food into the trashcan. 

Gilbert laughed disbelievingly. “You’re fucking nuts. I’m not stopping you from coming along, but I’m telling you now that I’m not buying you drinks, too.”

“Oh yes, I heard you the first time,” Ivan smiled. “Now, lead the way.”

Gilbert watched him curiously. “You’re seriously going to follow me. You can have the damn cigarettes, by the way. I’ll just buy some more.”

“You’re my first friend here! And I hear that friends typically go to the pub together,” Ivan remarked as he wrapped the scarf around his neck again. 

Friends, huh? Well, it’s not like Gilbert saw much of his current so-called friends.

“What the hell?” he beamed. “I’m not surprised you want more of this. I just hope you don’t get your hopes up because I’m not too fond of being a heartbreaker.”

“Ah, but that would require a heart,” Ivan chimed in. He laughed, and Gilbert marveled at how childish it sounded. This guy was just made up of contradictions. Literally, nothing about him made sense.

The walk to Beerwolfe was short. Nothing in the town was really all that far away, or maybe Gilbert was just used to it. Either way, it felt like they arrived in front of Arthur’s dingy-but-likable establishment with almost no small talk in between.

“Hm, this is passable,” Ivan said as they approached the door.

“I still don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do here with no money. The owner is not the charitable type, trust me,” Gilbert scoffed and led the way inside.

It was 10 p.m. now, and the crowd was fairly sparse. Gilbert had certainly seen it busier. Stationed at the bar was a blond man with bushy eyebrows and a terse expression. He was wearing a plain white button-down and black slacks as he filled a glass with beer.

Gilbert settled at an empty part of the bar and waited for Arthur to make his way over. “So, are you going to get water or,” Gilbert stopped, finding Ivan no longer behind him. He spun around. “Where the hell did he—”

“Oh, it’s you again.”

Gilbert turned back and Arthur was there, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah,” he grinned automatically, “I’m sure it’s been boring around here without my awesomeness.”

“Certainly been quieter,” Arthur pursed his lips and brought out two shot glasses, followed by a bottle of tequila. “Starting with the usual?”

Gilbert pressed his lips together as he stared down at the empty glasses on the table. His fingers drummed the bar impatiently. “Set out another two,” he said. “I’m here with someone, actually, so…”

“If it’s Elizaveta, I’m kicking you out right now. Your bloody lover’s spats give me migraines,” Arthur complained.

Hearing Elizaveta’s name sent a weird pang through Gilbert’s heart. He didn’t really love her anymore, but fuck, it just felt bad to hear her name and think about how he was rejected all over again. The phone call from earlier didn't help things.

“No,” he managed a lop-sided smile. Then he forced out a chuckle and mussed the back of his silver hair. “No Elizaveta. Just me and this—guy…I met. Though I’m not sure where he went—”

“Ah, there you are.”

Ivan appeared by his side, sporting that strange enigmatic smile. He turned to Arthur and lowered his gaze to the four shot glasses. “And you’ve ordered drinks. What a nice surprise.”

“Lovely, you’re back to men now,” Arthur deadpanned and poured tequila across the glasses in a quick stroke. Then, he dropped cuts of lime on the bar and stormed away.

“My, you have interesting friends,” Ivan smiled as he picked up one of the glasses and tossed the drink back.

“He’s always like that,” Gilbert sighed and downed his first portion of tequila. He cleared his throat and continued. “Well, he’s always like that now. Three years ago, he slept with one of my best friends. And that same guy took off for Argentina the day after. They haven’t talked since, and he clearly still holds a major grudge.” He slammed the second shot back. The alcohol couldn’t hit his bloodstream fast enough. Fuck Francis.

Arthur returned and slammed two pints of beer on the counter. He left without a word.

“He’s much more fun when he’s drunk. Trust me,” Gilbert grinned and clinked his glass with Ivan’s. “Right, so cheers, I guess. And welcome to the area. I hope things are going to turn around for you.”

“I’m rarely so lucky,” Ivan laughed, and he took a gulp of his beer and winced. “I forgot how horrible beer tastes. I'll have vodka next time.”

“What are you talking about? Beer is the best! I could drink it all day,” he joked, but it hit his ears wrong and he rubbed his neck to distract himself. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he forced himself not to check it. No chance it was Elizaveta. No chance it was Toni. No chance in hell it was Francis. Who the fuck would be messaging him now? “So,” he straightened himself against the bar. “Can’t believe I haven’t asked this yet, but what do you even do?”

“Me? Oh, I’m a writer,” Ivan replied. He placed the glass back on the table. It was empty now. Guess the beer couldn't have been that bad then.

“A writer? Is that even a real job,” Gilbert laughed and took another swig of his drink.

“Sometimes. Most of the time, I’m doing things like this though,” Ivan replied breezily.

“Things like losing your wallet and finding awesome strangers to buy you crap?”

Ivan smiled. “Attracting peculiar men,” he corrected and waved Arthur over.

“Already? You’re worse than he is,” Arthur grumbled when he landed in front of them again.

“A double shot of vodka for me, and another…beer for him,” Ivan said.

“Wonderful.” Arthur supplied the drinks and disappeared to a quiet corner to arrange the clean glasses again. 

Gilbert finished the rest of his first beer and took a glance around the room. It had already emptied quite a bit while they had been standing there. 

“Why don’t we sit down for this round,” he suggested. However, when he turned around he saw that Ivan had finished his shot. “I’m gonna hate myself for asking this, but are you sure you don’t want something that will take longer to drink?”

“Yes,” Ivan confirmed happily. He pushed away from the counter and threaded through the chairs and tables. Gilbert followed, balancing the second pint of beer in his hand. 

There were a couple of odd characters that caught his attention. One was a dark-haired guy with tan skin and a green shirt jacket—he almost looked like Toni from a distance. The other was a very tall man with spiky blond hair and a long black coat. They were huddled by the dartboard, looking like they were having a wail of a time.

Gilbert remembered how he and Antonio and Francis would play darts here. And how he would smoke them each and every time with his awesome skills. Which would always earn him a telling-off from Antonio and a dramatic complaint from Francis. He was so caught up in the memory, he didn’t notice that one of the guys had moved. Then Gilbert was falling headfirst into something fuzzy and hard. He felt his drink spill over his hand.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” he yelled automatically and quickly righted the glass. But it was too late. He stared at the black fabric in front of him, and then scanned upwards, landing on the profile of the blond stranger who was at standing at the dart board. A pair of bright cerulean eyes landed on Gilbert’s face. “Oh man,” Gilbert stepped away and dropped the glass on an empty table. “I’m so sorry. That was totally my fault. I was fucking miles away. I hope it wasn’t much.”

“Wow, I’m surprised,” the man beamed. There was a manic energy in his expression, but at least he didn’t seem pissed. Gilbert had his share of bar fights over dumber shit. “I didn’t see you coming.”

“Yeah, well, same here, I guess,” Gilbert chuckled awkwardly. He spied Ivan in the corner of his eye, standing off to the side. “Uh, can I buy you a drink or something? You can tell the bartender to put it on my tab. He knows me.”

“No need for that,” the man laughed. His hands flexed by his sides before they slid into his coat pockets. “You can join our game though if you like. We just arrived here, and you seem like a pretty fun guy.”

“Well, thanks,” Gilbert preened, and he relaxed enough to grab his drink again. “I’m Gilbert, by the way.”

“Mathias,” the other replied with a wink.

Gilbert had been out of the game too long to understand if this guy was just weirdly friendly or hitting on him. He kind of hoped it was the latter. His ego needed a boost.

“So, what do you say?” Matthias continued, gesturing to the dart board and the dark-haired stranger. 

Ivan stepped forward at that moment. “We were in the middle of a conversation,” he said without much inflection and waved Gilbert over.

“Right, uh. Maybe in a bit, okay—Mathias?” Gilbert amended. And for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “I’m pretty fucking awesome at darts so I would love to play a round.”

“We’ll be here all night,” Mathias grinned.

And then Gilbert followed Ivan to a booth in a quiet pocket of the bar, mostly out of view from the dartboard.

“You should stay away from that one,” Ivan warned when they were alone.

“So you thought that was weird, too? Sometimes I really can’t fucking tell if it’s me or them,” Gilbert chuckled as he slid into the far end of the booth. “I’ve never seen him before. Maybe he’s passing through.”

“He’s dangerous,” Ivan said, his dark gaze pinned to the other side of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down on the other side.

“Dangerous? Come on. You’re fucking with me. If that’s true, then you’re dangerous too.”

Ivan laced his fingers under his chin and smiled. “I never said I wasn’t,” he replied cryptically. “But he’s worse. Especially for someone like you.”

“What does that even mean?” Gilbert furrowed his brows. When Ivan didn’t answer, he peered over the booth again. Mathias and the other guy were back to playing darts. 

“Well, I don’t know you that well, but from what I can tell you have an affinity for reckless behavior.”

“You really are a fucking writer,” Gilbert raised a brow. He finished the remainder of his drink. There wasn’t much left anyway. At least the shots from earlier had settled into his bloodstream. He felt the tension from the day slipping out of his pores. 

He didn’t want to think about her. He didn’t want to think about him. He didn’t want to think about fucking work and Ludwig and his father. Why couldn’t he just not think for a while? That’s all he wanted. Hopefully, the one-and-a-half beers would start adding to the tally. He wondered if he should go back for another round now.

“I’m stealing another cigarette,” Ivan announced happily, and he rose from his chair.

“We just sat down,” Gilbert laughed, but he was following suit anyway. “Who am I kidding? I need a smoke too. We can go out the back.”

They dove through the back door, settling in the back patio area that Arthur had tried to set up, but never managed completely. It was also completely deserted because it was late for this town and there were many other, less dilapidated bars to spend money on. Gilbert just happened to prefer this one when he was in a mood.

Ivan ignored the table they could sit at and stayed by the back wall. So Gilbert stayed there too and greedily accepted the cigarette and lighter after Ivan had lit his own.

After releasing his first puff, he decided that now was a good time as any to read the text message he ignored earlier. He was surprised that there were two.

Ludwig: This is a reminder that we have a company meeting tomorrow at—

“Whatever,” Gilbert scoffed, closing out of the text. He found the other. 

Eliza: By the way, you still need to stop by my place for the rest of your stuff. 

Gilbert stared at the words for a long time. His eyes narrowed accusingly at the screen. Elizaveta went on and on about no contact, and now she was the one taunting him with these texts? Why couldn’t she—fuck. Why was it so hard to think of her unemotionally? Gilbert didn’t love her. He DIDN’T. But it just got him so worked up thinking about how they ended it. Their slew of fights and insults—which usually ended up with makeup sex—but there was no more of that. There was no more of anything.

Gilbert didn’t have anything.

He began typing a reply.

Heyyy, remember how HUGE my dick is because I—
FUCK FUCK I WANT YOU SO BAD—
I still remember how sweet your pussy tastes and—
PLEASE ELIZA I’M—
Where’s your strap-on again??? Because I think I’m in the mood for—

Gilbert deleted the text message again and tossed his head back. He blew out a cloud of smoke. Why couldn’t he stop texting Elizaveta? This really was a problem. 

“What are you doing over there?” Ivan asked as he flicked ash onto the ground. “You’ve been biting your lips for minutes now. They’re turning red.”

Gilbert turned to the side. He saw Ivan watching him, and suddenly his skin went from uncomfortably warm to just fucking hot. All of those thoughts he buried earlier resurfaced at the front of his brain. Oh fuck, don't say anything. Don't say anything you'll regret. He couldn’t stop himself from scanning Ivan from head to toe and back up again. He wasn't going to open his mouth, but his libido thought for him.

“You look like you have a big dick,” he blurted. It was the alcohol, he thought. It was definitely the alcohol. But he just couldn’t take feeling so horny and miserable all the time. He was going insane.

Ivan’s expression didn’t change at first. He took another drag of his cigarette and stared; his dark, indigo eyes impossible to read.

And Gilbert couldn’t handle silences. “My girlfriend and I broke up a month ago, and I—fuck. I can’t stop sexting her and leaving her voicemails. I think I’m losing my mind. I just want a distraction. I can't talk to my friends. My brother is—and don't get me started on my dad. My head feels like it’s going to explode all the time,” he ranted. Then the words replayed in his head and he groaned. “Damn it, I sound crazy. Just forget I said anything. I think I just need to invest in sex toys, or maybe I should look into picking up a hooker. Do we even have any around here? This shitty little town has nothing—”

“Quiet,” Ivan ordered, and suddenly he was pushing Gilbert back against the wall. His large hand stayed at the base of Gilbert’s throat, just above his collarbone.

Gilbert’s mouth closed automatically. He looked up and waited. He would literally take anything right now and that was a scary realization.

Ivan brought the cigarette back to his lips. This time, he breathed out the smoke directly into Gilbert’s face.

Gilbert coughed and grumbled his complaints. “Fuck, come on. Don’t be an asshole.” When he opened his eyes again, Ivan was smiling at him and the cigarette was gone.

“I thought I would have to try harder to lure you, but you’re quite a desperate little thing,” he commented coolly. “And just how long have you been thinking about my dick?”

“Honestly, you can just say yes or no! What is this?” Gilbert barked.

He gasped, feeling Ivan’s cold touch underneath his shirt, running up his back.

Ivan leaned closer, flashing his teeth. “You’re certainly desperate for something,” he purred, and then he dragged his nails down Gilbert’s skin in grooves.

It made Gilbert hiss, but fuck, he didn’t hate it either. He wanted it harder. 

“Why do want so much pain, hm? What did you do?” Ivan murmured, moving his hand to Gilbert’s chest.

“I don’t want pain—shit!” Gilbert whimpered, feeling his nipple being twisted. “Come on—we can’t do this…here. We should go somewhere. I don’t want to be this much of a freak.” 

“You’re right,” Ivan said, dipping his head lower. His breath ghosted over Gilbert’s nose, his cheek. “We should go somewhere.” Then he covered Gilbert’s mouth with his own.

Gilbert didn’t think he missed kissing this much, but his resolve literally fell to pieces the moment Ivan stuck his tongue down his throat. Gilbert moaned, and his hands fisted in the fabric of Ivan’s coat. He wanted to take it off. He wanted to rip his own clothes off. He just wanted to get this started. They were outside, but Gilbert didn't care. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to think that far ahead.

A car whizzed by, nearly startling Gilbert from his trance. But not quite. His hands landed on the top of Ivan’s pants. He scrambled for the zipper, all the while chasing Ivan’s teeth with his mouth. Gilbert pulled down the zipper, but his hand jolted when Ivan bit down on his lip. He pulled away tasting blood.

“Kneel.”

A hand landed on Gilbert’s head and pushed him down to his knees. The pavement was cold, even through his jeans. His fingers wandered over the cement before he found the courage to climb up the texture of Ivan’s pants, settling behind his thighs.  

“Open your mouth.”

Gilbert obeyed. He couldn’t not do it. And he just watched with wide eyes as Ivan slid his entire length into his mouth.

Fuck, I was right. He’s as big as thought.

Tears stung at the corners of Gilbert’s eyes. He couldn’t breathe. The gag reflex was instinctive, but he tried to relax his throat. Those petty, buzzing thoughts that filled his brain 24/7? They were gone now. All he could do was focus on the cock spearing his mouth open.

“You haven’t done this in a while,” Ivan commented. He cradled Gilbert’s head in his hands and pulled at Gilbert’s hair. “Do you remember what to do?” The street lights cast an ominous sheen on his face, making his eyes glow. He smiled “Or do you just want me to use you? Like you’ve let me do all night.”

Yeah, like I can fucking talk right now, Gilbert thought. But he couldn’t just sit there. He needed something to happen. Ugh, but he couldn’t think straight.

So he clenched the backs of Ivan’s legs and pulled him closer. The cock inched further down Gilbert’s throat, making him moan. 

It was enough of a signal for Ivan. “That’s what I thought,” he said huskily before grabbing fistfuls of Gilbert’s hair. “You’re tired of talking. You just want to be a good boy and take it.” He withdrew halfway, letting Gilbert gasp for air. Then, he thrust forward, sending his cock to the back of Gilbert’s throat. 

Oh god, he was doing this, Gilbert realized. And it should have been alarming how just hearing the words “good boy” made him want to be better. He wanted to please Ivan. Anything. He would have let Ivan do anything to him if it meant destroying all of the fucking things he’d been thinking and feeling.

Ivan set a steady, punishing pace and Gilbert just sat there and took it. Was he turned on? Yes. His jeans had been tight for a while now. And that was fucking concerning, because he hadn’t sucked cock, much less been around one (sexually speaking) in such a long time. Yet now he had no earthly idea how he had lived without it. Fuck, he wanted it harder. 

“You said you had a girlfriend,” Ivan laughed. His breathing was a little unsteady, but he mostly sounded elated. Gilbert could barely make him out, his eyes had become so blurry. “No wonder you’re losing your mind. How could a woman give you what you wanted? Hm?”

God, don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“You hate yourself. And you want to be punished. Preferably—by someone who knows how. I’m sure that’s what you wanted every time you spread her legs, every time you opened that obnoxious mouth of yours and tried to talk a big talk. Isn’t that right?”

No, no, no! It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Gilbert dated Elizaveta for years. He’d fucked guys before, but not that many. Not like this. He wasn’t some cockslut now. He couldn’t be that. 

But he kept moaning every time Ivan slammed his hips forward. 

Gilbert was so hard, now. He was close to cumming and he hadn’t even touched himself yet. What the hell happened to him? 

Ivan slowed his pace, and Gilbert’s eyes shot up. Because, no. He didn’t want that. Keep going, he wanted to say. Harder.

“Touch yourself,” Ivan commanded, that smile still on his lips. It was the oddest smile in the world. Was he as turned on as Gilbert was? Was he as close? 

Gilbert couldn’t tell. Instead, followed Ivan’s order and fumbled for the zipper of his jeans, and brought his dick into his hands, stroking immediately. As soon as he did, Ivan resumed thrusting, sending Gilbert off-balance. He could barely keep a rhythm.

Not that it really mattered, because he knew would’ve come even without touching himself. That’s just how fucked up he was, apparently.

“Can you take it? Hm?” Ivan laughed maniacally. He was holding Gilbert’s hair like reigns, pulling him back and forth. Gilbert finished at some point, but he barely noticed—he was so far gone. It actually felt really good being used. Maybe Ivan was right. Oh, fuck maybe Ivan was right.

And then he was pinned, frozen in place as Ivan spilled himself down Gilbert’s throat. 

“Come on, swallow it all,” Ivan chuckled, sliding his hand down Gilbert’s cheek, wiping some of the tears that had fallen from the corners of his eyes.

Gilbert couldn’t believe it, but he did. And then Ivan backed away, and Gilbert nearly fell to his hands. He stared at where he had finished on the dirty black asphalt. 

He should be freaking out right now. He’d just let a practical stranger face-fuck him behind a bar. Not out of sight. Not all that hidden. 

And yet, Gilbert couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. His brain felt fuzzy and soft. His lungs were relaxed; for once, he could take a deep breath without stopping at that uncomfortable shallow point.

The smell of smoke made him look up. 

Ivan was dragging on a cigarette, looking nearly the same as before. Maybe his cheeks were a little pinker. He stared at Gilbert and smirked. “That was pretty fun!” he said. 

“Uh,” Gilbert looked down at himself and flushed. He hurriedly put his dick away and pulled up the fly of his jeans. Then he tried getting to his feet. Ivan caught his elbow when he nearly fell over.

“You look like a mess,” Ivan laughed and took another drag from his cigarette. “But I like you better this way.”

Now standing, Gilbert felt a little more aware of the situation. He forced out a chuckle, even though his throat felt raw. “I swear, this isn’t normal for me. I don’t know what happened,” he explained, rubbing his palm over his swollen lips. “I don’t usually jump random strangers.”

“You should do it more often. You could be pretty good at it,” Ivan commented.

Gilbert glanced at him defensively. “I’m fucking awesome at it, actually,” he blurted. “I just haven’t fucked a guy in a—while.”

“Oh yes, I know. That’s why you need more practice,” Ivan smiled mischievously. “I doubt that was enough for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Gilbert repeated and a disbelieving grin spread across his lips. “Are you calling me a slut, because I—”

“No,” Ivan interrupted loudly. Then, his voice dropped to a taunting whisper. “I’m calling you a toy.”

Gilbert could only look at him. He didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn't true, of course. Of course. But he couldn’t think of a reply, anyway.

The backdoor opened at that moment, and a slightly tipsy-looking Arthur jumped out, an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear. His green eyes flashed to Gilbert, and then to Ivan. “You two,” he greeted coldly. His eyes narrowed. “I thought you left and skipped out on the bill. Don’t tell me you’ve been here the whole time.”

A surge of energy shot through Gilbert’s body. “Hey, Arthur. Please, please tell me it’s not too late to get a last round of drinks. We, uh, lost track of time out here.”

Arthur pursed his lips, clearly still mulling over what he saw in his head. “You have an hour. But I’m taking my much-earned smoke break, so I trust you know your way around the bar. If you break anything, it will be on your head.”

“I know you will be impressed by my skills,” Gilbert bragged as he grabbed the handle of the door. Ivan was still puffing on his cigarette. “Vodka, right?”

“Or anything stronger. But no beer,” Ivan replied happily.

“Yeah, a guy with no taste. Just my luck,” Gilbert jeered, and he dove back inside the bar. 

He darted to the bathroom first. It was empty, thank the fucking lord. So Gilbert braced his arms on either side of the shabby little sink and stared at himself in the mirror. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” he breathed because he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen himself this messed up. Not even after his countless romps with Elizaveta. Gilbert’s lips were as swollen as they felt. And bright red, too. His hair looks like he had been thrown in a bush, so he ran his hand under the sink and tried to tame it with some water. 

Hopefully, the blush that had spread across his cheeks and ears would fade, but Gilbert didn’t have much hope. 

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and laughed. “This is fucking nuts.”

The door swung open, but Gilbert didn’t look at first. If it was Ivan, it was going to plant all sorts of dangerous ideas into his head. And he really didn’t want to think about if it was Arthur.

“There you are! Man, I thought you had already left.”

That voice made Gilbert turn. He saw Mathias stepping inside, his blue eyes as energetic as before. They took in Gilbert’s abused state in a moment, and then Mathias was flashing a wide, toothy grin.

“You really do know how to have a good time, huh? I thought you looked like the type when I saw you,” Mathias said. “You know, my friend and I were thinking of having a bit of a drinking game in case you and that other guy wanted to join in.”

Gilbert was trying not to think about how, in less than a minute, this guy somehow knew what Gilbert had been up to. Apparently, it was that fucking obvious. He focused on the alcohol part instead.

“A drinking game? Oh, I am so in,” Gilbert chuckled. “But I gotta warn you, I’m no lightweight. And I don’t think the guy I came here with is either.”

“I didn’t think so,” Mathias confided, and he winked again. “That’s why I think it will be a lot of fun.”

Part Two: Something stronger, something more

There was half a bottle of tequila and another full one set on the table. There were also five shot glasses scattered in front of each person. Gilbert, Ivan, Mathias, Arthur, and…that other guy.

“Sorry, what’s your name?” Gilbert asked, flashing a grin.

The man with dark hair didn’t look up from his phone. “Heracles.”

“My, I’ve made a lot of friends today,” Ivan joked, and he turned his eerie smile from Gilbert to Arthur. 

“We are not friends…whoever you are,” Arthur scowled, pouring himself a shot. He was the only one drinking at the moment. There was no one left in the bar.

“I’m Ivan.”

“I didn’t ask, wanker!” Arthur bellowed and he slammed the empty glass back onto the table. “Are we starting or what?” He filled the row of shot glasses for everyone.

“I thought you said he was more fun when he was drunk,” Ivan said to Gilbert.

“Well, kind of depends on his mood,” Gilbert chuckled, but he had empathy for Arthur. Three years later and he was still so touchy around couples; it always brought out the worst in him. Of course, Gilbert and Ivan weren’t a couple. But those types of boundaries didn’t matter to Arthur, apparently. He saw two people in close proximity and became a feral cat. “So,” he coughed, “What kind of drinking game are we even playing?”

“Never have I ever,” Heracles chimed in from his seat at the table.

Mathias clapped his hand on Heracles’ shoulder. “He has the right idea! What better way to get to know each other?” His eyes scanned the table, still way too electric for this hour. “Of course, that won’t be enough to get most of us drunk. But it will at least, get the party started.”

“Fine, I’ll go first,” Arthur blurted, his green eyes sharp and analytical. “Never have I ever stolen anything.”

Everyone at the table moved for their shot glasses.

“Ah, too bad,” Ivan sang, as he tossed back the shot.

“Hold on,” Gilbert said, pointing his finger accusingly in Arthur’s direction. “You’ve never stolen anything? Bullshit, Arthur! I’m calling complete B.S. on that.”

“I’m a gentleman, Gilbert,” Arthur huffed, but an unwilling smile crept across his lips anyway. “And I could tell you lot were a bunch of crooks from a mile away.”

“Come on, I’m not a crook! But we all do dumb shit when we’re in high school. For sure, you’ve done the same.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but some of us have morals,” he cackled.

At least, Arthur was cheering up a bit more.

“Well, I’ll go next. Hm,” Ivan tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’ve done so many things. I wonder what I haven’t tried…ah, of course.” He nodded sagely. “Never have I ever slept with a woman.”

It was Gilbert and Heracles reaching for the glasses this time.

“Cheap shot,” Gilbert grumbled and took his second shot in stride. He wasn’t so upset to lose because the tequila was doing amazing things for his mood. 

“I thought I was in good company!” Mathias cheered as he shared a wide grin with Arthur and Ivan. Arthur looked like he was warming up to the tall stranger. 

But Ivan’s smile had an icy chill to it like he wasn’t so amused.

Then, it was Gilbert’s turn. “Oh man, I want to choose something especially for you, Arthur!” he exclaimed dramatically. “This is going to be my revenge. Never have I ever…damn…” he raked a hand through his hair. This was much harder than he thought. Arthur was way less experimental than he was. Not that they were super close, but it was a small town, and then, of course, Arthur had a thing with— “Aha!” Gilbert grinned wickedly. “Never have I ever slept with Francis Bonnefoy.”

“Who?” Ivan and Mathias chorused.

Arthur, however, turned a furious shade of red. He didn’t say anything, he just stared daggers in Gilbert’s direction, and the seconds dragged on.

“Shit,” Gilbert sighed. He sunk to a new low, didn’t he? Bringing up Francis’s name was just not something you did with Arthur unless you wanted to get punched. “Look, I’m sorry, Arthu—” He was cut off by someone shoving his face to the table. Ivan, he realized. The large, cold hand was already familiar.

There was the sound of glass shattering, and then Ivan released his grip. 

“He tried to throw his glass at your head!” Ivan laughed.

Gilbert swung his gaze from Arthur to the far wall behind the bar, and back again. “You—actually threw your glass at me? Oh my god, Arthur. What the hell,” Gilbert guffawed, slapping his hand against the table. “That’s so crazy, I’m sorry. I would never have expected that from you.”

“I-I—ugh,” Arthur stammered. His fists were clenched on the table. Eventually, he unscrewed his eyes to look at Gilbert. “I don’t know what came over me, Gilbert. That wasn’t…That was dangerous.”

“Please, it was hilarious!” Gilbert hooted and threw a thumbs-up in Arthur’s direction.

Arthur was a little taken aback. But a shaky smile spread across his lips. He looked down at his empty shot glass for a while and then sighed. “What are we doing? Real men don’t play drinking games. This is childish. If we’re going to have a contest, then it should just be that. First one to concede pays the bill. Those are the only rules.”

“I can approve of that,” Ivan chirped, sounding as gleeful as ever.

Gilbert nodded his agreement. “I think we’ve all done plenty of awesome things, and we have no need to brag over them. This is the only fair thing to do.”

“Ah, that’s too bad!” Mathias exclaimed, tossing his hands behind his head. “I was looking forward to learning more. But fine. I will still definitely win.”

“Well, how many shots does everyone have then? Let’s say we should all be at three to be fair,” Arthur suggested smoothly. He shifted his attention back to Mathias. “By the way, who are you?”

“I’m Mathias,” he said, bringing a hand over the table and smiling. “Just passing through really. I’m meeting someone in another town.”

“That so?” Arthur raised a brow and shook Mathias's hand. “Well, you certainly have a mysterious air about you. What’s your occupation?” 

“I don’t have one at the moment,” Mathias cheered, and he glanced at Gilbert again.

Gilbert blinked, feeling confused. 

“I think we’ve all had three shots now, let’s continue!” Ivan cheered, raising his full shot glass.

“Merciful alcohol,” Arthur murmured, before swallowing his shot. Everyone followed in stride.

“How do you three know each other?” Mathias asked, pointing across Gilbert, Ivan, and Arthur.

“Oh,” Gilbert coughed, looking at everyone. “Well, he and I,” Gilbert gestured to Ivan, “Just met. Literally a couple of hours ago. But Arthur and I basically grew up together. We’re both from here.”

“The center of the universe,” Arthur commented, throwing his head in one hand. “We went to school together. And we can’t escape each other’s gravitational pull. That’s the curse of a small town.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “What he said.”

“Now, who exactly are you two?” Arthur folded his arms over the table and directed his attention to Mathias and Heracles. “There’s nothing else you can say? You’re in my bar, after all. I have the right to know. He hasn’t even said his name yet.”

“It’s Heracles,” Gilbert proffered. “Are we on shot number five now?”

“I definitely need it,” Ivan chimed in.

Everyone swallowed the fifth shot.

Arthur was a little unsteady when he narrowed his eyes at Mathias. “You still haven’t answered me.”

“It’s not intentional, I promise,” Mathias replied, closing his hand over Arthur’s for a brief moment. “I’m not from here. Actually, I’m not even from near here. And neither is my friend Hera—oh.” He stopped when he noticed that his friend had fallen asleep at the table. 

“Well, that was bloody quick,” Arthur grinned.

Gilbert was sure that he was relieved someone was bound to pay now.

“Oh, he might wake up,” Mathias dismissed easily. “He’s just a sleepy guy by nature! Anyway, as I was saying, I’m just following someone. My boyfriend, actually.”

That was a bit of a revelation.

Gilbert had a flurry of feelings dancing in his chest. On one hand, he was relieved that this guy wasn’t hitting on him after all. On the other, he was a little peeved that this guy wasn’t hitting on him after all! What the fuck was wrong with him? Gilbert had really been out of the game for too long.

Arthur, meanwhile, had dropped in humor by a mile. “Time for another shot,” he barked.

“Yes, sir,” Gilbert saluted and downed the sixth drink cheerfully. He glanced at Ivan, feeling warm and—no. Come on. He couldn’t want sex again already. 

Well, he figured. They hadn’t done everything yet. 

And Gilbert felt starved for something different. He liked what they did behind the bar. It made him feel good, and god knows he hadn’t felt good in a very long time. 

If Ivan noticed Gilbert’s heated stare, he didn’t comment on it. He actually didn’t glance at Gilbert’s way at all, and it was frustrating. Why the hell did Gilbert even agree to this drinking game? He was plenty drunk. Now, he just wanted to go home with this guy. And if they didn’t make it home, he would settle for the bathroom, an alleyway…

“GILBERT!”

Gilbert’s head shot to Arthur’s face—his brows were furrowed and he had a scowl. That was a familiar sight. 

Arthur cracked a smirk. “If you’re done with your sex dreams, we were about to continue this battle among men.”

“You’re kidding,” Gilbert laughed automatically, hoping his ears didn’t look as red as they felt. He dared to look at Ivan, and Ivan was looking straight ahead like Gilbert didn’t exist. What the hell? “I’m ready. Whatever.” He lunged for his shot glass with a clumsy hand, but he was startled when another hand grasped his own. It was Mathias.

“Sorry, you accidentally reached for mine,” Mathias explained with a wide smile.

Gilbert withdrew his hand, feeling a little off-beat now. “Oh, sorry.” He grabbed the shot glass next to it and swallowed the alcohol down with more enthusiasm than the last.

Getting drunk will help. He just needed to relax a bit more. Stop overthinking everything. They were all here to have a good time and he was the one with the brain that couldn’t go offline. 

He brought out his phone. Maybe he should text someone.

Hey TONI you asshole, remember the time you—

No, maybe not.

Eliza, I bet you’re still up for me, aren’t you? Kesese Because I’m definitely hard for y—

Okay, bad idea. Even drunk Gilbert knew that. He changed tactics. Scrolled to someone he hadn’t talked to in a loooong minute.

Franny!! Hello, hello. You wouldn’t guess who the awesome me is sitting with right now—

“You’re in contact with the frog!” Alfred bellowed over Gilbert’s shoulder, sending the phone clattering to the table.

“Arthur, what the hell?” Gilbert shouted as he scrambled to get his phone back. 

“It’s time for another shot,” Arthur ordered, and he lowered his face so that Gilbert could see his wicked grin. “Unless you’re ready to accept defeat.”

Gilbert cackled instinctively. “Oh, never. Bring it on. Bring it on all night.” He reached for the shot of liquor, thankfully not bumping into Mathias this time, and dunked it to the back of his throat. Alcohol tasted like water now. It was so easy and he felt so good.

Then they reached the tenth shot and everything went to shit.

“And you know what else you can tell that good-for-nothing French twink?” Arthur practically shouted. He had scooted his chair just beside Gilbert’s so he could dictate the message. But it also meant that his personal boundaries had melted, and he was nearly crawling on top of Gilbert’s lap to get a glance at the phone.

FRANCIS this is Arthur speaking through Gilbert’s phone because you changed your number AGAIN. I have a number of things to say to you, but because I’m pissed I’ll limit it to just three. So #1, you know how you said you always come back to the things you love, well I have a few things to say about that because as an Englishman I am a grandmaster in amorous escapades of course but—

“Okay, Arthur. This doesn’t make any sense,” Gilbert complained between laughs. He rolled his head to the side, trying to find Ivan. He was sitting so far away and—still drinking? What the hell? It also looked like he was conversing with Mathias of all people, and Gilbert was fairly sure that Ivan wasn’t even fond of the guy.

“Pay attention, you’re wasting my priceless prose,” Arthur yelled as he beat his fist to the side of Gilbert’s head.

“Ow, ow! Jesus! You’ve made your point,” Gilbert complained. “I’m typing, I’m typing.

“Good, because I want you to add how promiscuous I’ve become since he’s been gone.”

“Yeah, right. Promiscuous as a monk.”

“Did I ask you to fact-check? This is my creative liberty. We’re spinning a tale here. Try to keep up, Gilbert. I know your head is in the gutter more than half of the time.”

“My head? What?” Gilbert repeated, tilting his head up to Arthur again.

Arthur’s smirk curled dangerously. “Please, the three of you were all perverts, and you are no exception. I know all of the stories. You’d be worse than Francis if you didn’t manage to keep that facade of a relationship for so long.”

“It wasn’t a fucking facade,” Gilbert spat and grabbed Arthur by the collar. He brought their noses together, and for half a second he was tempted to kiss Arthur. But no. No. What? Gilbert was definitely losing his mind. Arthur was Francis’s problem. He just needed to fuck someone. But not him. Never him. Gilbert had to draw the line somewhere, he couldn’t just live in blank open space. It would literally consume him whole.

“Fine, god, fine!” Arthur choked. His hands were slapping against Gilbert’s grip. He was surprisingly small and wimpy. 

Gilbert released at once, feeling horrible. 

But that was the opening Arthur was apparently waiting for, because he grasped Gilbert’s hand and dug into the skin, scraping against the cigarette burn that had not healed over. “That was far too easy. Are you really the weakest link in the so-called Bad Touch Trio, that’s rather disappointing,” he taunted, and it was followed by a long and arrogant laugh. He was so far gone. Arthur never laughed like this sober. Actually, he rarely even smiled when Gilbert was around

Their play-fighting was brought to an abrupt halt by a voice outside of their townie circle.

“You know, I thought I knew your face,” Mathias’s voice boomed across the table. 

Gilbert turned to face him. There was a strange glint in Mathias’s eyes. For some reason, Gilbert wanted to glance at Ivan, but he forced himself not to.

Instead, he tried to hold eye contact, and it was hard when the other guy had such neon blue eyes that didn’t seem exactly normal. But Gilbert was good at pretending. He slapped on a grin. “Mine? I really don’t think I’ve seen you before tonight.”

“Yeah, I know! But I’ve seen you!” Mathias exclaimed, his eyes wide and wild. 

Fuck, Gilbert thought. Ivan might have been right. This guy was looking more unhinged the more he drank. 

He let himself look at Ivan now, and thank god Ivan was staring back at him. Of course, it’s not like Gilbert could read minds, but somehow, staring into Ivan’s weirdly dark purple-blue eyes, so opaque and seemingly unemotional, let him make an attempt at calm.

“All right, all right, where do you know me from?” Gilbert raised his hands placatingly and laughed. 

“My boyfriend likes to play games,” Mathias explained as he stood up from the chair. His hands crept further over the table, finally reaching the center. Now, Gilbert could see the glow in those electric eyes. They weren’t like anything he had seen before. This guy was definitely something else. Mathias continued with a smile fixed on his lips. “He plays a lot of games. And I think you were in one of them.”

He exchanged another short glance with Ivan, but it didn’t help much. Ivan was smiling eerily, keeping his attention on Mathias.

Gilbert swallowed and tried to find his usual debonair attitude. Arthur was a weight on his side.

"What is this Dane blathering on about?" Arthur chuckled drunkenly. 

Gilbert ignored him and looked at Mathias. “Honestly, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but I’ve been in a relationship for years.” Off and on, but okay, he had only the rarest of one-night stands in between the gaps. It had been without a doubt the steadiest relationship of his life. 

Mathias brought out his phone. He spent a couple of moments scrolling and pressing buttons before displaying the screen in front of Gilbert’s face, and grinning as he did so. “This is you, isn’t it?”

Gilbert stared at the video playing in front of him. He saw two men having sex. Was this guy seriously showing him a porn video in the middle of the bar? But no. It wasn’t just a random sex video. It gave Gilbert pause because he recognized something about it. His heart dropped to his stomach when he realized it was himself that he recognized. Sweaty and naked and obnoxiously loud—which he was when he had sex.

“What the hell,” he wheezed, leaning closer to the screen.

“It’s you, isn’t it? That’s what I thought,” Mathias beamed, and suddenly the phone was out of Gilbert’s sight. Mathias was walking across the table. He jumped down on the other side and loomed over Gilbert and Arthur. “You fucked him, didn’t you? Lukas Bondevik. An ethereally pretty blond guy with a Nordic cross barrette in his hair.”

Gilbert was still reeling over the sight of himself having sex in a video. He'd never made a sex tape in his life. Not even with Elizaveta. It just wasn't something that ever occurred to him, and a lot of crazy shit popped into Gilbert's brain.

Someone recorded him? This Lukas guy? Gilbert racked his brain for a clear memory. Yeah, he was typically attracted to the pretty guys because they reminded him of—ah. Well, maybe he did sleep with a guy by the name of Lukas. During one of the many intermissions in his relationship with Elizaveta. 

He didn’t remember it very much though. Just that it was drunk and messy and not in this town. It was actually in one of the towns over—nicer and with more stuff to do. He had gone home with one of the cutest guys he’d seen in a while and had some pretty decent sex. But—no. He didn’t remember being recorded.

So, it was definitely a different kind of deja vu, seeing his actual body—glistening with sweat and undressed—pressed against a guy he had only interacted with once before.

“Where did you get this?” Gilbert said at some point. He sounded normal, and that was a relief. His eyes were glued to the angular planes of Mathias’s face. Something was going to go down. Would he punch or grab, Gilbert just didn’t know yet. 

Mathias placed his hands on his hips. “I told you, didn’t I? My boyfriend likes to play games. He’s been such a… problem that way,” he trailed off with a small frown. “He has other relationships and likes to send the evidence to me.”

“Sounds like a slag!” Arthur slurred loudly. He jabbed a finger to Gilbert’s chest. “Kick this wanker out of my bar. I never said he could walk on my tables. I’m trying to run a business, here.”

“Jesus, Arthur,” Gilbert laughed quietly, his eyes glued to Mathias’s livid face. “Don’t listen to him,” he said to Mathias, “He’s loaded.”

“If anyone is a whore here, it’s you,” Mathias spat. He hadn’t made a move yet, but his entire body was tense and coiled like he would spring any moment.

Gilbert pushed Arthur away and got to his feet. He was buzzed, but his alcohol tolerance was high, so he didn’t mind it so much. The adrenaline shooting through his veins definitely made him feel soberer than he actually was.

But Mathias was tall. And crazy—not in the dumb way that Gilbert was. 

Was he actually going to brawl with this guy? It wasn’t exactly the kind of stupid shit Gilbert was looking to get up to this evening. 

Yet, he still couldn’t stop his mouth from running. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not the one in a relationship where my boyfriend sleeps with strangers behind my back,” Gilbert taunted as he flexed his hands. This was going to hurt. ( Good. Let it hurt. )

Arthur was egging him on, practically rolling in his chair as he laughed. “That’s right, you tell him! Explain to this bastard exactly how we feel about French sluts that run away after sex!”

Not helping, Arthur, Gilbert thought.

“I’m guessing that it’s pointless to ask you to delete that video,” Gilbert said, feigning confidence. Should he make the first move? He wasn’t exactly a pushover, but even he had to admit that this guy just screamed I will break you in half and throw you in the dumpster.

Mathias grinned callously, and that was the last thing Gilbert saw before he was thrown onto the table, scattering the alcohol and glasses.

“What did I say about my tables!” Arthur bellowed.

Gilbert was wheezing from the impact. He was splayed on the table, a warm hand tight around his throat. It was getting tighter. Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. Gilbert was being choked. 

“I’m tired of hearing you talk,” Mathias cackled. “Just seeing your face is making me turn red. I don’t know what he saw in you. It’s crazy.”

Gilbert grabbed Mathias’s arms and tried to remove this weight from his throat. He pulled and pulled, but nothing would budge. 

Then, finally, there was sweet relief. Gilbert didn’t know what happened, but as soon as the grip on his throat vanished, he was curling to one side and gasping for air. He could breathe again. He could breathe…

And as soon as he had his bearings he noticed the other noises clattering around the bar. 

“Gilbert, you git,” Arthur pawed at Gilbert’s side. “We need to make a wager on who’s going to win this fight. Because that’s who’s going to pay for the drinks.”

“Who’s fighting?” Gilbert coughed as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Oh, fuck.” He gaped at the sight of Ivan—the stranger that Gilbert had met barely a couple of hours ago—pushing Mathias against the front of the bar, his hand raised in a fist. His punch made Mathias reel to the side.

“Is it me or are these two extremely dodgy?” Arthur hissed with a wicked smile. “I knew you had a dark side, but even I’m surprised that you’re friends with these two.”

Mathias grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the counter and broke it on the side.

“Hey! Leave my liquor out of this or I’ll call the cops!” Arthur jumped to his feet, stumbling into chairs as he rushed forward.

“Oh, fuck, Arthur! Stop!” Gilbert yelled as he held Arthur back by the back of his shirt. 

“I knew you had a look like you wanted to kill someone,” Ivan laughed dangerously, his hand trying to push the point of the shattered bottle away from his throat. “I would know it anywhere. You’re crazy! Crazy like me! And her! Oh, you look just like her! You really want to kill someone, huh?”

Oh, fuck, oh fuck. Gilbert was using his weight to keep Arthur from lunging forward, but now he was just watching Ivan on the cusp of getting his throat slit.

“What’s going on?”

Gilbert swung around, startled by the new voice.

He saw the other guy—Heracles, right?—rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

“You,” Gilbert breathed, running forward and pulling Arthur along with him. “Get a handle on your friend. He’s completely lost it! If you don’t get him out of here, I’m calling the cops. Fuck, I should just do that anyway.”

“Oh, no,” Heracles sighed, standing up slowly. His movements did not suit the actual chaos going on just behind them. “I’ll get him out of here. He can’t get in trouble with the cops again. That would be…a problem.”

“The room is spinning. God, Gilbert let me go, I need to sit down,” Arthur moaned. 

Gilbert released his shirt, and Arthur settled in one of the empty chairs, holding his head in his hands.

Meanwhile, Heracles was ambling towards the stand-off between Mathias and Ivan. Gilbert stayed close behind, unsure if he should just deck Mathias while he had the chance. But he decided to wait anyway.

“Mathias, let’s leave. You just got out. And this is looking pretty bad,” Heracles yawned, sliding one of his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Mathias’s eyes darted to his face. He was still holding the broken bottle to Ivan’s throat. “I can’t leave. I need to settle this.”

“You haven’t talked to him yet, have you? Why don’t we go back to following him?” Heracles shrugged. His green eyes wandered from Mathias to Ivan to Gilbert and back again. 

Gilbert was a little puzzled by that choice of words, or maybe he was just too buzzed to really get it. Surely this guy wasn't stalking his own boyfriend?

Mathias pressed his lips together, clearly torn about what to do. But at last, he lowered the bottle away, setting it back on the counter. Ivan kept on hand fisted in the collar of Mathias’s black coat. “All right,” Mathias pouted. He glared at Ivan, slapping his hand away. “I said, all right!”

“Thank god,” Gilbert muttered under his breath.

“If I see you fuck him again then I’m coming back,” Mathias warned with a grin. Heracles was dragging him away by the back of his coat. “He’s mine. No one else’s.”

Don’t say anything. Just don’t say anything, Gilbert thought.

“What if I fuck him then?” Ivan taunted.

“Hey, NO!” Gilbert growled as he beat a fist to Ivan’s back. “Shut up. Shut up. They’re almost gone.”

“You what?” Mathias yelled, making a move toward them again.

But Heracles readjusted his hold, saying, “We need to go. You were supposed to see him tomorrow.”

Mathias’s resolve crumpled again, but this time he didn’t wait to be dragged outside and made the initiative himself by storming through the front door. It slammed behind him.

Heracles actually had the gall to wave to them before he followed. And then the door shut. It was quiet. Except for Arthur mumbling something in his sleep.

After a while, Ivan piped up. “That was really scary, huh?” He flashed a smile to Gilbert.

“Jesus Christ.” Gilbert dropped into an empty chair. The adrenaline was still bubbling under his skin, but now his legs felt weak from the shock of it all. He was grinning somehow. Maybe he was delirious about what transpired. It’s not possible that he liked it, right? God, no. That would make him just as crazy. “I guess you were right about that guy. Who the hell was he?” Gilbert threw his hands up. “I think I need another drink.”

Rising to his feet, he meandered behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of whisky, a shot glass, and then sagged to the floor. He tried pouring a shot, but he mostly spilled it over his hand. 

“Your hands are shaking,” Ivan commented casually.

Gilbert peered to the side and saw him leaning over the other side of the bar. Smiling and looking down at Gilbert with hooded eyes. 

“I almost got choked. Actually, I did get choked!” Gilbert shouted. He tossed the whisky back and gasped. “And you nearly had your throat slit by that—lunatic!”

Ivan rounded the bar and stood in front of Gilbert. He crouched down slowly so they were eye-to-eye. “Did you like it?”

Gilbert gave up on trying to pour another shot. He kept missing the glass. He pushed everything to the side and pressed a hand to his temple. “Like what? The sex tape, the choking, or near-blood bath happening in Arthur’s bar?”

Ivan smirked. “All of it.”

Gilbert’s jaw dropped. Then he burst into laughter. “Are you nuts? No. Fucking, no.”

“I think you liked it. I think you wanted it. I told you he was dangerous and you didn’t listen. We could have left this place and continued what we started outside, but you wanted this to happen instead—didn’t you?”

“Finding out I was a reluctant porn star was not on my bucket list.”

“Always joking,” Ivan tutted. “That’s something I need to fix if we’re going to spend more time together.”

Gilbert stared at his hands, they were still vibrating like he had drank twelve cups of coffee. He felt like he was close to tears even though he didn’t want to cry. Joking was his coping mechanism. Let him have it. “Well, Arthur is down for the count,” he said instead. “We’re probably going to have to help him lock up. God, he’s never going to live this down.” A weary chuckle escaped his lips. 

He felt a touch. Ivan was holding his chin between his thumb and forefinger. It made Gilbert’s breath slow down.

“Before we do that,” Ivan murmured, “Why don’t we do something else?” 

Gilbert blinked. “Huh?”

“We can pick up where we left off now,” Ivan continued, his hand brushing over Gilbert’s cheek, catching something wet.

Oh, shit. It was a tear. Gilbert was actually crying. “Are you,” he laughed shortly as he brushed his eyes, “Are you asking me to have sex in a bar while the bartender is passed out in the room?”

Ivan’s hand left Gilbert’s cheek. “I think it’s drizzling outside.”

“Wow, Ivan,” Gilbert grinned. “I honestly don’t know if I’ve met anyone as messed up as I am, but you are really starting to scare me.”

“That’s what you like, right?” Ivan smiled, hauling Gilbert up to his feet with little effort. 

Gilbert gasped. He wasn’t used to being handled like this. He actually couldn’t think of a time he’d slept with a guy like this. Hopefully, this wouldn’t unlock some sort of secret fetish he didn’t know he had. God knows he had plenty of those already. 

“Bathroom,” he blurted before his brain turned to mush. “Let’s do it there for fuck’s sake. I’ll never be able to look at Arthur again if we do it here. I can’t keep that sort of secret. Trust me.”

“Fine,” Ivan agreed, pushing Gilbert into a walk. His voice lowered by his ear. “But I think you would have liked it.”

Gilbert bit his lip, digging into the cut Ivan had made earlier with his teeth. He knew Ivan was right. Damn.

Part Three: It's just never enough

“You have to tell me—I’m dying to know—is this a normal evening for you?” Ivan grunted between thrusts.

“No, aah. Come on—harder!” Gilbert was bracing himself against the sink, one hand gripping either side of the ceramic basin. He kept his head down because he couldn’t bear to look at himself in the dirty, chipped mirror as Ivan slammed into him.

His jacket was crumpled in the corner, as well as Ivan’s coat. Now, Gilbert had his jeans and boxers bunched around his ankles and his shirt pushed up, above his stomach and nipples. Ivan’s grip alternated between Gilbert’s waist and back. Pinching, pulling, scraping any skin he could find. It probably looked like Gilbert had gotten attacked by a big cat.

“I thought you were full of yourself when we met,” Ivan chuckled. “Maybe carrying some bad addictions, too. That made you interesting to me. But you’re actually a mess. Not only that—”

“Ivan, fuck, come on!” Gilbert cried, pushing himself back on Ivan’s cock. Excluding Elizaveta’s strap-on, he hadn’t done this in years. He didn’t think he missed it this much, but—

“You seem to like destroying yourself.” Ivan grazed his teeth between Gilbert’s neck and shoulder. Close to biting down, but not quite. He smiled against Gilbert’s skin. “And you know, I think I like that about you. You’re turning out to be a lot of fun.” 

He finally hit the spot that made Gilbert see stars.

“There! Jesus, yes,” Gilbert gasped. His hands were slipping on the sink. His muscles could barely keep him steady, he didn’t know how he was still standing.

Ivan’s hand settled on the top of his head, grabbing locks of Gilbert’s silver hair and literally dragging his gaze up to the mirror.

Gilbert saw himself, half naked and red from his cheeks to the base of his neck. Tears were dried to the curves of his cheeks and his lips wouldn’t close. He’d never seen himself like this. Did he like it? No, that was impossible. 

He saw Ivan’s expression in the reflection, watching him curiously. Like he was an experiment. 

“What do you think, hm? Do you still want to fuck women? Do you think you can? Can you even miss your girlfriend now?” Ivan laughed as he wrapped his arm around Gilbert’s chest, pulling him flush against his own.

Gilbert was secretly thankful for it because at least now he was being supported. He didn’t have to worry so much about his knees giving out. But hearing these words was doing crazy things to his brain. He couldn’t process it. No one had ever talked to him like this. No one had ever seen him like this.

“Look at you. So delicate. So fragile. And yet you love to pretend that you’re not. People see you as strong, don’t they? Dependable? I hate that.”

“Shut up,” Gilbert wheezed. Ivan’s hand left his hair, and Gilbert let his head dangle lower again so he didn’t have to look at his reflection. 

Ivan continued his pace, but suddenly it wasn’t enough for Gilbert. He felt like he was missing something. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t hurt. He just didn’t want to think of himself anymore. 

“Come on,” Gilbert moaned, keeping his eyes wired shut. “Do something—I can’t—I need…” he stopped, unsure of how to finish that sentence. He felt insane for even asking.

“Not enough pain for you?” Ivan taunted. His arm kept a tight hold around Gilbert’s chest, while his other hand moved up. “You want to be choked, don’t you? Now that you’ve gotten a taste for it.”

No, no, no. Gilbert didn’t. Absolutely not. 

But.

He needed something. It just wasn’t enough like this.

What was he supposed to do? Admit it? Tell Ivan? He couldn’t stomach that.

“I think you do,” Ivan hummed cheerily, already wrapping his fingers around Gilbert’s throat. “But if you tell me not to, then I might be nice and stop.”

Don’t be nice. Don’t be nice. Please.

Ivan’s fingers tightened, and Gilbert felt his breathing restricted. Strangely, the pressure helped him relax. He felt better because of it. And then, the sex felt better too.

“That’s what I thought,” Ivan laughed. His hand loosened so Gilbert could catch his breath, and then it tightened again. Ivan leaned by his ear. “You’re so used to being in charge, hm? How does it feel to be the toy? This is what you’ve always wanted.”

Was it? God no.

Ivan continued thrusting, and Gilbert moaned. He focused on the pressure around his throat, the nails digging into his waist. He needed it all. He had never been consumed like this. Someone wanted him. Someone was craving every part of him. And all he needed to do was go along with it. 

It was so easy. So nice. And it felt so good. 

“You’re never finding a girlfriend again,” Ivan repeated, more loudly than before.

Gilbert whimpered because he wondered if it was true. Maybe he was being ruined right now. He really didn’t know. He felt good. He felt free. That’s all he thought about.

“Do I look normal?”

Ivan was smoking a cigarette. Inside the bar. But with the door open because Gilbert insisted. His eerie eyes drank Gilbert in from head to toe. Then Ivan smiled innocently.

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Everything but, in fact.”

Gilbert’s hands clenched by his sides. “Well, hopefully, a drunk Arthur won’t notice the difference then,” he muttered and proceeded to shove at Arthur’s side. “Arthur, hey. Come on. We need to close.”

Arthur didn’t open his eyes. “Just five more minutes.”

“Ugh, this is making me feel like a school teacher, I don’t like this.”

“Do you want me to try?” Ivan proffered happily.

“Fuck no,” Gilbert chuckled. And he tried shaking Arthur with more force. 

After some time, Arthur’s eyes cracked open. Even if they were dazed and barely comprehending. “Wh-What is it?” he mumbled in his arms.

Gilbert tried to pull him upright. “We need to close the bar, man. And we need your help doing that.”

“It’s closing time already?” Arthur yawned.

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Arthur chuckled tiredly. “You’ve been a bad influence. I’m supposed to close at one.”

I know, Gilbert thought. But it made him feel bad because it kind of was his fault that this happened. He tried to move forward. “Just give me your keys. I’ll do the rest. We can take you home, too.”

“I should be the one closing up,” Arthur complained.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. He really didn’t have the patience for this. “Where are your keys?” he demanded. 

“In the back room,” Arthur said before closing his eyes again.

Gilbert fled to find the keys. The back room was predictably tiny. Just a table, some cabinets, and a mini fridge. Arthur hardly spent time here, probably. But at least the keys were easy enough to find. Gilbert snagged them and then darted back inside.

Ivan was the one in charge of holding Arthur. 

“He’s a funny little man,” Ivan commented when they were outside and Arthur was swaying in his arms.

“He’s a lot of things,” Gilbert mumbled as he sorted through the keys. He had no idea which one was for the bar, so he supposed the most logical thing to do was to try each one.

Arthur swayed in Ivan’s arms. “That’s the wrong bloody…key.”

“Why the hell do you even have so many? Are you a medieval dungeon master?” Gilbert laughed and sifted through the jangling row. “Is it this one?”

“It’s—ugh—it’s gray,” Arthur said, closing his eyes.

“They’re all gray,” Gilbert rolled his eyes. He went back to systematically trying every key all over again. He was drunk as well, but stealing Arthur’s stash of snacks and having impulsive sex in the bathroom definitely woke him up some. Not enough to put a key in a lock steadily though. He ended up scraping the door every time he tried a key. “Fuck—finally!” he exclaimed when a key turned the lock. 

“About…bloody…time,” Arthur drawled and he reached out blindly to take the keys.

“Fine, here you go,” Gilbert said.

Arthur cradled the keys like they were his most prized possession.

Ivan turned to Gilbert questioningly. “What are we supposed to do with him?”

“Take him home, I guess,” Gilbert scoffed, already walking away from the door. “I know where he lives at least. It’s not far. We can walk there as long as you don’t mind dragging him along.”

Even before they reached the sidewalk, Gilbert was startled by the sounds of breaking glass. He rushed ahead of Ivan and saw Mathias standing beside a parked car, a baseball bat in one hand.

“There you are, Gilbert!” Mathias called with a broad smile.

“For fuck’s sake,” Gilbert exclaimed with a breathy laugh. Ivan was close behind him now so he felt a little more confident. “What the hell is wrong with you? Leave me out of your twisted love affair. I’m not interested.”

Mathias swung the baseball bat through another car window, triggering a third alarm. Then he pointed to Gilbert with a bat and laughed. “I’m really trying to change, but he makes it so damn hard. He knows how much I love him, and yet he does this shit again and again.”

Gilbert raised his arms over his head dramatically. “Then leave him. Jesus Christ.” He released another laugh. His eyes caught Heracles leaning against a lamp post.

Heracles caught his gaze. “He’s just blowing off some steam. It’s all right.”

Is that so? Well, fuck him.

“Don’t bother talking to him,” Ivan smiled callously. “He’s not going to change. And he’s not going to stop bothering you either unless we leave him.”

“Talking from experience, are you?” Gilbert rolled his eyes.

Surprisingly, Ivan added, “I haven’t mentioned my family to you yet, but the resemblance is uncanny.”

Gilbert stared at him with a lop-sided grin. “You’re full of surprises.”

Mathias drove his bat through another car window. That made five now. Some people were opening their windows to look outside. 

“With this many car alarms, the cops are bound to show up at some point. You better carry Arthur the rest of the way,” Gilbert ordered with a sigh.

Ivan did as he was told. That was a quiet surprise. And Arthur was compliant at least. He just kept asking who Ivan was, but maybe it was better if he didn’t remember. 

They raced down the sidewalk. Turning down a side street, and finally slowing their pace by another stop sign. Eventually, they reached a more residential side, with apartment buildings and a variety of different-sized flats.

“I think it’s this one,” Gilbert said after a while. He pointed to the balcony with dying plants and a very full ash tray. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s the one.”

So Ivan stirred Arthur awake again.

“What is it?” he grumbled with bleary green eyes.

“This is the awesome Gilbert,” he bragged with a broad grin. “And I’ve brought you home. You can thank me later with plenty of beer. Now, help me get you inside. I need to find your apartment key.”

“It’s gray.”

“They’re all gray!” Gilbert exclaimed impatiently. Arthur didn’t remember, of course, but it still irked him. 

“It’s pointier than the others,” Arthur said eventually. His voice was tired, slow, and still, clearly drunk.

Gilbert tried to find a key that fit that description. When he was successful he shouted, “Yes!” and lunged for the door of the apartment building. It worked, thankfully. But he still needed Ivan to carry Arthur upstairs.

When they finally settled Arthur in bed, it was a huge relief. But Arthur wasn’t solidly asleep. His eyes drifted open, looking in Gilbert’s direction but not really staring at him. 

“Do you think Francis will actually return?” he murmured. It was really hard to understand, but Gilbert still grasped it.

Ivan was in the kitchen, so Gilbert felt more comfortable answering. He was pulling the covers over Arthur’s chest. “Yeah, I mean he always does,” Gilbert smiled, and he hoped it was a reassuring one.

Arthur blinked slowly. His eyelids closed so heavily that at some point he could barely open them. Even so, he continued talking. “Do you hate me...a little bit? He didn’t leave until I slept with him. I wouldn’t blame you...if you did. Seems like it was my fault...”

Gilbert sighed, his head drooped beside Arthur’s. The words struck a nerve, but it was also so hard talking to a drunk person when you didn’t know if what you said would even be remembered.

“It’s not your fault,” Gilbert said eventually, brushing the hair from Arthur’s eyes. “Francis has issues. We all do. Eventually, he’ll come back and we’ll be just like we were.”

“But…” Arthur made a loud exhale. “I don’t want to be like we were…that’s the problem.” He grumbled for a bit, but eventually, it drifted to silence.

Gilbert continued to watch him, making sure that he was all right. It seemed like he was. “I hope so,” he murmured to himself, and then he got up.

Ivan emerged from Arthur’s kitchen carrying bags of crisps. “Are you hungry? Because he has plenty!” He smiled triumphantly. Like a child. No, he wasn’t a child. But his humor was, and that trait was weirdly contagious because Gilbert just went along with it.

And then they were munching on Arthur’s snacks on the street, while Arthur was nearly crying in his sleep over Gilbert’s best friend who refused to come home. It made Gilbert somber. Actually, it was worse. It made Gilbert think. And that was the very last thing he wanted to do.

Francis left because he was afraid of what sleeping with Arthur meant. Though he said that he left because he wanted to study wine.

Arthur continued to hold out hope even three years later.

Gilbert wasn’t involved in this, but it made him feel sad. And because he was feeling down, he began to drift towards the things that actually involved him. The breakup with Elizaveta. The never-to-be romance with Roderich. The job that made him miserable. The fact that he was mostly irrelevant and Ludwig didn’t need him. The fact that Antonio punched him in the face because he got jealous of their shared friend. Man. Gilbert’s life was a mess.

And he was really the root of most of the problems. There was no easy escape.

“So,” Ivan hummed after a while. He crunched an empty bag between his hands and discarded it to the street. Littering. One of Gilbert’s pet peeves. “What are we going to do now?”

Gilbert turned away from the litter. He was still thinking about Arthur’s sad expression. “I dunno,” he grumbled. “I guess I should go home.”

“You live far from here?”

“I don’t know if it’s far, but I’m used to walking.”

“Then, I’ll follow,” Ivan said.

Gilbert ignored him because he really couldn’t be bothered now. He was staring at the black night sky. So abysmal—the end of everything—and how it touched his small town skyline. So picturesque and idyllic. Nothing ever happened here. It was perfect and untouchable. Yet somehow, Gilbert still found a way to be unhappy.

He was really so fucked up. Elizaveta was right about him. Was she the only one who could actually see it? What a mess he had become. 

He and Ivan were walking up the big hill that would lead to his apartment. He stopped talking a while ago, but Ivan didn’t seem to mind. It made Gilbert retreat even further into his thoughts. Oh fuck. That wasn’t good.

They reached the top and then Gilbert changed directions. Ivan wouldn’t know what was right from wrong. Gilbert was heading for a flat street that he knew got traffic in the morning. 

At some point, he let Ivan go in front of him. Gilbert stopped in the middle of the quiet street. There was no other sound. It was just their breathing. The slight rustle of the wind and the very distant roar of the ocean crashing against the shores of this tiny seaside town. Gilbert was familiar with every hiccup of this landscape.

Gilbert was paused for a long time. 

Eventually, Ivan noticed. Because he turned around, swinging the length of his coat behind him. 

“What are you doing?” Ivan called after him lazily. “You’re going to get run over if you don’t move.”

Gilbert sat down in the middle of the street. “Maybe I should get run over,” he sighed.

“Hm, what was that?”

“I said…Maybe I should just stay here and see what happens,” Gilbert laughed, turning his gaze up to the sky, the moon, and the stars.

“You want to die?”

Gilbert looked at him. Ivan was just… standing there. With his hands in his pockets, like Gilbert hadn’t just spouted the most depressing shit he’d been too scared to tell anyone else. 

“I-I don’t know. Fuck, I just don’t know. Is it bad that I don’t know?”

“I thought you wanted to hurt yourself,” Ivan chuckled darkly. “If you die, you won’t feel pain at all. Where’s the fun in that?”

Who said shit like this? Gilbert couldn’t think of a single person who would respond this way. And he’d considered making these kinds of comments to everyone he was close to and everyone he wasn’t. 

Gilbert’s head felt dizzy. “Ugh, I’m so drunk! That’s the best time to do it, right? Won’t even know what happened.”

“Don’t you have friends? Family?”

“Yeah, friends. One of them is AWOL in another country. Another hasn’t talked to me since he planted his fist in my face. Assholes, both of them. My brother… well, he’s got things handled, all right,” Gilbert sighed. “Actually, I’m going to lie down.”

“Be my guest.”

Gilbert slid back on the asphalt until he was fully reclined on the street. Then, he crossed his arms behind his head so he was a little more comfortable. He could actually sleep here.

“Ah, can I have your wallet?” Ivan chimed in a musical voice.

Gilbert cracked one eye open. “Huh?”

Ivan had already walked over and was now casting a shadow over Gilbert’s face. “Well, you won’t need it if you’re dead. And I have no money at all.” Ivan emptied his pockets.

“You’re such a crooked bastard,” Gilbert grinned, because despite it all, this amused him. “Yes, here’s my wallet. Take anything you want.”

Ivan grabbed the wallet silently. As he was thumbing through the bills, he added, “Then, I want your phone, too.”

“Of course, you do,” Gilbert cackled and slapped his phone in Ivan’s palm. He settled back on the street. This must have been the quietest fucking street in the whole town. Where was his huge delivery truck that would crack his skull open? He saw that Ivan hadn’t moved away yet. “Dude, I don’t have anything else. Time to let me die.”

Ivan crouched down. He was smiling but keeping his attention on the phone. “You didn’t give me the passcode.”

“Wow. Really, Ivan?” Gilbert groaned. “You’re really ruining my suicide.”

“This isn’t a suicide,” Ivan said, “But you’ve done an excellent job persuading me.” He was scrolling through Gilbert’s phone. 

“What are you going on about?” Gilbert asked, sitting up a little to see what Ivan was doing. He saw Elizaveta’s contact info on the screen, and he flung his arm for the phone instinctively. “No! Ivan, no!”

Ivan laughed and raised the phone out of reach. His thumb was dangerously close to the dial button, and Gilbert just couldn’t let that call happen. So he scrambled out of the street to chase Ivan. 

“Seriously, call anyone else but her! She already wants my head on a pike for what I said to her last night. I really can’t—” he swore, realizing they were now on the sidewalk, standing under the streetlamp.

A massive truck rushed down the street. Gilbert watched it with a slack jaw. Then, he looked up. Ivan smiled like a Cheshire cat, his eyes sparkling and dark indigo.

“People like us can’t die. The world doesn’t work like that,” Ivan tutted. He brought his free hand to the nape of Gilbert’s neck, urging him forward. Ivan’s voice ghosted over Gilbert’s lips. “But I’m here now, so why don’t we have a little fun together, hm?” 

His teeth grazed over Gilbert’s jaw tantalizingly. And instead of trying to grab the phone, Gilbert reached for the sides of Ivan’s coat instead. 

“I can make you hurt,” Ivan promised. “I can give you all of those horrible things you want. This is what you need.” He placed the phone in Gilbert’s hand and guided him away from the streetlight. 

They ended up behind the tree, not too far from the sidewalk, but not anywhere a car would see them. No one else was walking around this time.

“Call her,” Ivan ordered excitedly. He pushed Gilbert against the wet bark and dropped to his knees.

“What?” Gilbert wheezed out a laugh. It’s not possible that Ivan was going to… But Ivan was there, kneeling on the ground, with a glint in his eyes. “You must be crazy.”

“Of course!” Ivan chirped. His cold hands made Gilbert jump. They were underneath Gilbert’s shirt, unzipping his jeans. 

Gilbert almost choked on his tongue, he was so stunned. And maybe a normal person wouldn’t be able to get hard in this situation—nearly four in the morning, after getting threatened by a maniac, and contemplating suicide in the middle of the road—but Gilbert kind of got off on the things that weren’t normal. 

“Call her,” Ivan said again, keeping his hands on the outside of Gilbert’s pants, not making a move to go further. 

Gilbert inhaled a shaky breath. “She’s really going to kill me if I call her while you do this. I think that’s actually going to make a murderer out of her.”

“Then, don’t let her know,” Ivan taunted as he pressed the heel of his hand against Gilbert’s crotch.

“Fuck,” Gilbert’s moan faded into a laugh. His eyes screwed shut. “The only thing I can call her for is an apology. And I can’t apologize if you put my dick in your mouth. I already can’t stop running my mouth at the worst of times, but when I get a blowjob, I literally become a howler monkey.”

“Then, this will be a good lesson for you,” Ivan purred. “I’m only going to do this if you call her.”

“I-uh,” Gilbert’s grin was shaky. His heart pounded in his chest and he kept his thumb on the call button. Was he actually going to start thinking with his dick now? Because he knew what that wanted. “Oh god. Fuck. Fine!” His thumb landed on the screen, and Elizaveta’s photo that he had taken on their first date flashed forward. 

There was no way she was going to pick up. Gilbert knew that much. It would go straight to voicemail and he would have to find a way to leave a message that didn’t land him in the hospital tomorrow.

“Good,” Ivan said, his hands snaking under the band of Gilbert’s boxers. “Try to remember what I do, because I will expect the same, later today.”

Today? Oh, right. It was already the next day. Gilbert was supposed to go to work in a couple of hours. Holy hell, what a night.

The phone was ringing in the background. For once, Gilbert wasn’t gazing longingly at Elizaveta’s long hair and silky skin when he heard that familiar chime. He barely thought about her at all.

He was transfixed by the sight of Ivan running his tongue down the length of Gilbert’s cock, which was fully hard now. Surprise, surprise.

“Hi, this is Elizaveta. Sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as quickly as I can…And if this is you, Gilbert, then hang up the phone RIGHT NOW.”

Just as Ivan opened his mouth, Gilbert had to slap his free hand over his lips, stifling the moan. Fuck, why was he so loud? This was going to be impossible. But the message had already started. This was so stupid. It was ridiculous. It was reckless.

Was this better than sinking into a slow depression? Well, maybe he’d go out with a bang. That was a lot more awesome. 

“H-hey Eliza…it’s me. Obviously. Kesese. I’m calling because aah—I want- ed …to say that I’m s-sorry for…ah!”