𝕥𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕔

Right there, a pause. Their eyes meet in that honest way they often do, and so much is so quickly understood. "No one's forcing me to be here," Rahi smiles, "the same way no one's forcing you to be here." Which is to say: they aren't hand-cuffed to the red carpet, yet not entirely here out of their own volition. They're both in on the joke, however — which is how Rahi likes it best. "You know I can't say no to 'stupid drunk'." He angles his head to the side, then. "What game?"

"yes, but... you ain't see me complainin' about it, do ya?" rahi has a tendency to be difficult whenever he's out of his comfort zone. everything is boring and uncomfortable unless it's about his work. javi knows this, but he also knows that it is not his job to deal with that anymore.

he smiles, "look around. count how many boring old black suits and ties you see. that's how many shots we starts out with. then, we watch for anyone tripping on the carpet. anyone doing an awkward pose. anyone embarrassingly high. wardrobe malfunction. anything, really."

He takes the opportunity to lean more of his weight on him, his head tilting in that kittenish way it does. "What? I can't... talk to people who are working, now? That's just... classicist," thinly veiled amusement bleeds into the delicate edges of his mouth. "You know, I'm not so sure I believe you... you've had every opportunity to take advantage of me and yet here I am... all virginal and shit."

his hands move to sebastian's front, starting to undo the buttons from the bottom of his shirt. "that's not what I said. I said you're misbehaving. all you gotta do is fix that attitude." he says with a shrug, stopping at the third button before two cold hands slip under the fabric to find solace in the warmth that is sebastian's skin. "oh, so you're virginal now. daydreaming about being taken advantage of... I'll just add roleplay to the list of your cute, but depraved little needs. we'll go through 'em one by one, mkay?"

Sebastian. Cue the eye roll; he flashes his palms, as if he couldn't possibly convey the reason for that tone to be taken. Hasn't he been a perfect gentleman, all night? "Why does everybody keep saying that?" he places both elbows on Javier's shoulders, leaning into him to strategically block his view. "I have a shirt on, don't I? Don't I get praise for that?"

soon enough, seb is touching him, and all he can do is pull him closer, ignoring the flashes of cameras. "maybe because you're misbehaving." and javi wouldn't have him any other way. "I like you better without a shirt."

He returns Javier with that mischievous glint in his eyes, like a kitten barely keeping itself from pouncing on him. "Just... you know—delegate so I can suck you off already."

"sebastian," he's really trying to keep his expression as emotionless as possible, but he really can't help the amused smile creeping its way up his lips as he leans in closer to hiss an endeared "behave," through his teeth.

There ain't nothing to berate you for. There is plenty, and Rahi knows as much. Avoids it, but the truth remains.

"My husband is—" He shrugs. "This has always been his space, not mine. Even if I was invited before knowing him, it always felt very..." Rahi laughs. "You know I always hated even just wearing a suit and tie. This is that, tenfold." An inch forward. "...Fame was never something I wanted."

"no one's forcing you to be here." it's said with a smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. then, there's a switch, and he's seemingly filled with more enthusiasm. "wanna get stupid drunk and forget about all these cameras? we could play a game..."

In truth, he hadn't thought of Javi's sexuality until this very moment. There was an overlap — off his many years institutionalized, patterns were unavoidably drawn — but nothing which had been assumed before he'd stepped up to the position tonight.

Then, Lee smiles. His accent, posh by most standards, now manifesting through a perk or two. "So I sound like Shakespeare, do I now, darling?"

Beat.

It mixes with the meds.

Finally, a difference between the two. "I haven't taken mine in decades," Lee confesses. Two, to be exact. "It mixes only with—" With the very tip of his index finger, Lee taps at his own temple. "All this."

he looks around the room after that, just to keep tabs on figures of note, see if there's any tension between some of the members of the gang and other guests. then, as if nothing's happened, he's looking back at the other. "if shakespeare could charm the socks off me, sure."

he can't help but wonder whether this is a trap. but at the same time... even if it is, he'll just enjoy it while he can. while exercising caution, of course.

in truth, javi's been on and off his meds for so long, he doesn't even know what normal feels like. when depression hits, the meds help numb it all down. he downright loathes it when he's manic. but the voices. the fucking voices... "and how does that make you feel?" he repeats the question every goddamn therapist utters at least a hundred thousand times in their lives with a mocking tone.

Will it always be like this? The churning of his stomach, the way his eyes can't help but follow the man's path along the space, stitching through the crowd, wondering what bad thing he will be up to next. Ghosts, Rahi has found, have no need to be dead in order to haunt. His narrative was practically begging for it.

"If I were to follow 'our' ideals," he nods toward famed Brotherhood members as he says it. Thousands of dollars a ticket — even if Rahi's now far removed from the gang's anti-capitalist ideals, he can see how absurd that sounds. "I would berate you for being here to begin with. Except, I get the feeling you're about to do it to me."

So go on, the beat says. Have the floor, Javi.

but he's not a part of them anymore. the less he knows, the better. "they've been cooped up for a long time now. a little outing's the least I could do for them, right? call it a team-building exercise." the smile he gives rahi is a fake one, and it only melts into something else when he finally looks at him. "there ain't nothing to berate you for... so, where's your arm candy?"

"It 'takes one to know one', I reckon, darling." A phrase overused — as well as underplayed. No one that hadn't experienced the horrors of a mental asylum could think to join this very conversation with them; an automatic disconnect.

If vanity's a blessing, obsession is a curse. "Gorgeous face, to match such gorgeous hands." Javier has them, indeed. "Where fine liquor would fit." Lee calls for the bartender then — placing the order to an exact request. Two glasses that match. "Alas, I avoid drinking myself. I can get quite," — a sharp smile — "erratic, under the influence."

good thing the compliments keep coming, and his smile continues to widen at them. it's not often that he gets to indulge himself in such amusement. "you almost make it sound poetic with that accent of yours." a tilt of his head, and a rogue curl falls over his forehead, though he cares not about it. "I know the feeling. but at this point, it would take... so much more than a couple of drinks for that to happen. instead, it merely mixes with the meds, and makes me..." he shrugs as he gestures at himself, calm and pleasant, but with a hint of numbness. "sooo... how'd you like the place?"

Sebastian laughed in that boyish, careless way he did, as if it was so funny, as if he didn't have a single worry in the whole wide world, which Javi knew by now not to be true. "Yeah, yeah... bunch of losers, who gives a shit..." they'd all die to switch places with him for a day, isn't that what his fans always said? He nips at the skin, tempted to draw blood. There's nothing about Sebastian that screams tough, but there was an edge to him, wasn't there? Something reckless, dangerous, lurking behind all the charm and confidence. He didn't want to be cruel to Javi anymore, though. It wasn't fun, at least not right now. He liked being coddled.

He slouches, chin perched atop his shoulder; the hand on his thigh pauses briefly. "What? You can't multi-task?" he squeezes his thigh, and then stops again, his eyes felt like playful, glittering blue jewels in the dark, pushing boundaries and testing limits for fun. "Too late..." he sing-songs playfully, imbibed in ego, rubbing his knuckles against skin of his jaw, wanting to.

javi keeps driving, eyes on the road, even though every fiber in his body is telling him to keep looking at the drunken mess on an angel sitting beside him, practically crawling into his lap inch by inch. it takes great strength, but he does it anyway, checking the blue and red lights in the distance from the mirrors. they're watching. they're not coming for you. you're fine. they're watching. it's fine. it's fine. it's fine.

"oh, I can multi-task just fine." he says, distracted. the squeeze on his thigh grounds him, drowning out the intrusive thoughts. "you know how much I want you." it's a whisper, as he finally stops the car in front of his apartment building and turns to face him. dark gaze scans that gorgeous face, those eyes, his lips. he reaches between the two of them, knuckles brushing against the wet clothes over sebastian's torso, down to his hips... and then he unbuckles his seatbelt. "but not when you're this drunk." another moment, just to drink him in, as close as they are, and then javi gets out of the car, pocketing his keys. he grabs the case in the back with a grunt, much too heavy for just a guitar, then opens the door where seb is sitting, holding his free hand out for him. "come on."

The alcohol holds some of the numbness in and he hopes it won't leave him too soon, sobriety is an welcome companion tonight, even if Javi, as much as he wanted to deny it, isn't. He hates the immediate comfort those words bring him, and the way they come from the least person who should be offering it so carelessly. "...Mango, huh?" he teases, and brings himself a little closer, seeming to have softened, at least momentarily, tucking his pert little nose to hide into the crook of his neck as if seeking warmth. "You're such a masochist..." he's one to talk, he knows; but being hypocritical has never made anyone wrong.

"It's okay... I get it, you hate me... everybody hates me, you guys ain't special... they've had websites for that since I was like, ten," at least he was half-honest, which is more than he could say for his friend, or his father. Out of everyone, he owed him the least, and he gave him the most; he isn't really the reason why he was in this state to begin with, is he? Not really... not for the most part. But he's just going to pretend it is, because the alternative is just too damn depressing. "But you miss me too..." he slid a hand over his thigh, a low, purring sound vibrating against Javier's throat as the sly shape of his mouth pressed there, climbing up to his jaw with kittenish kisses, where his teeth came to clamp down mischievously.

the image pops into his mind again as he feels the cold, wet strands of hair against his neck, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. "since you were ten? y'know that's incredibly fucked up, right?" he tries to concentrate on keeping the conversation going, but the hand on his thigh is making him think about everything else. "seb..." his head tilts slightly, giving him more space to place his cold kisses over.

he can't tell him to stop. but he also doesn't want to tell him to be careful, considering if they run into police and get pulled over, they'll be in quite the trouble from the illegal firearms in that guitar case in the backseat. he can't possibly disclose that information to sebastian now, can he? not after that tantrum. perhaps when they arrive back home. he gasps when he feels teeth gingerly sinking into his jaw, pulling his shoulder up with a laugh. "I will not be seduced by a shoeless man! we're almost there, just sit tight, baby."

The last thing he wants is to sober up now, a bullet didn't sound nearly half as bad as the idea dragging himself out of bed tomorrow, with a pounding headache and a thousand voice calls and messages from people he didn't wanna talk to.

"I'm right, though..." he sing-songs to Javier, rubbing the sharp, marbled cut of his jaw where he'd grabbed it, fumbling in his pocket to pull up a soaping wet, mushy pack of cigarettes he lets drop to the floor now with an audible sigh of disappointment next. Horrible night, really, and the saddest thing is it wouldn't even make it to his top five. "My only love sprung from my only hate, too early seen unknown, and known too late... something, something, that I must love a loathed enemy... I can't remember the lines... school was so long ago," he begrudgingly followed if only because he was tired of standing in the rain, it was getting cold, and the car felt more comfortable than a random sidewalk. He presses his forehead against the window of the passenger seat, waiting, closing his eyes because the street was spinning. "...you do remember how that story ends, right?"

keep it together.

once they're both in the car, he runs his fingers through his wet curls, pushing them back and away from his face, silent as seb muses in the passenger seat. after a moment, he reaches over to the glovebox, opening it and pulling his emergency pack of cigarettes out. he lights one up himself, then hands it over to sebastian. "I do remember." he finally says as he starts driving, slow as to not disturb sebastian in his already fragile drunken state. "but that's just all it is. a story. and this is real life." he glances over at him, "you'll be alright, angel. I'll take you home, take care of you. okay? mango's missed you anyway." there's a pause, as he focuses on the road, contemplating whether to keep talking or not. "...you understand why I didn't tell you, right? it's not something you blurt out on the first date... I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

“curiosity gets people through the door,” he said, voice even. “what keeps them here is something else.” his gaze flicked toward the bar, then the band, then back again. “booze helps,” he admitted, almost dry. a small pause. “but crowds like this don’t stick around for just a good drink.”

he tilted his head slightly, studying him without being obvious about it. “you seem pretty confident in how this place is running,” mateo added. “makes it sound like you know more than the average guest.”

"What? Did you and your little group of losers hear I'm the best fuck in town and all collectively decided to fuck me over at once? Well, good for you... fucking... good for you!" he clapped humorlessly, with all the gait of a feral thing on the verge of pouncing. "Fuck you—fuck you, and fuck Nia, and fucking Heath especially, and his dumb fucking child bride—" there's some more incoherent drunk cussing that's nearly impossible to make out as he clumsily takes off his other shoe to unceremoniously toss it at Javi's, and he couldn't even properly make out if it hit him or not in this horrible weather, but he wasn't even sure if he really cared.

A huff, he can feel an unflattering crease tugging between his brows as he staggers forward, taking the opportunity to use him as a supporting pillar. "Whatever... distill all your hatred on top of me to make you all feel better about your... sad little lives," there's a begrudging pout on his lips as he halfheartedly shoves him, and almost falls doing so. "But at least have the guts to hunt me out in the open, okay?" he extends his arms, goading him. "Well? Go on! I'm here, woohoo! Big bad rich boy all alone in the neighborhood!" he sing-songs over the heavy downpour, laughing. "What are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna shoot me?"

he lets him rant along, not taking any of it to heart, but committing each word to memory anyway. he could disagree. he could mock. it would be all too easy, wouldn't it? but who wants to argue with a drunken, miserable, shoeless man in the middle of the street? he's too old for this shit. "are you finished?" apparently not, as sebastian continues, closing in on him.

and that's when the alarms go off in his head. it's all instinctual, really. that chaotically wired brain of his remains as it has always been, no matter how much javi pumps himself with meds. it is bound to break every now and then. are you gonna shoot me? is the last thing he hears before he hisses, "alright, pity party's over." a forearm presses into sebastian's chest, and javi shoves him backwards, until the kid's back collides with the wall once more with a wet thud. his free hand clasps over his jaw into a firm grip, fingers digging into his cheeks as he leans in so that sebastian can hear him clearly.

"check that attitude of yours before you talk to me. try that shit ever again and you are going to get something that's a lot worse than a bullet through that pretty forehead of yours." his voice is low, and gruff, like rock grating against rock. "I'm not playing games. I'm not here to hurt you. if y--" want to talk about sad little lives, look into the fucking mirror, is what he meant to say. still, he doesn't finish. "get over yourself." he lets go of him, turns around, and walks towards his car, stepping over the shoe. "and get in the fucking car, sebastian."

He almost looks like he's sulking, for a moment, seething, before he laughs—sharp and unamused. "From you?" the skepticism nips his honed tongue, mocking and dry, the sardonic laughter quickly dissolving into disbelief, an accusatory finger pointed his way. "You hate me." he points out flatly, as unceremoniously as he'd accused him of loving him, sharp canines flashing under the softness of his lip as it lifts, half-committing to a grimace, like a wounded kitten baring its teeth.

"whatever makes you think that, hm?" his gaze drops to the foot missing a shoe, then up at those pouty lips again. for all intents and purposes, sebastian should be right about that. javi should hate him. he's a spoiled rich kid with no idea of how the real world works, happily taking and taking and taking from people much less privileged than him. and yet... when he looks into those eyes, he sees an abandoned, lonely kid on the street desperate to build up enough walls so that he'd be safe from the world. "come on," he nods to the side, reaching out to help him turn towards the car. "let's get you in the car."

The broken cobblestones beneath his feet are wet, shiny with the downpour of rain that had, in all its irony, decided to descend now of all times. He could have moved. In theory. In theory, he could just moved and walked home—but he doesn't make a habit of walking home, his phone was dead, his driver was nowhere to be found. Sitting here under what was clearly a diluvium of biblical proportions, meant to wipe out civilization which had gone horribly wrong (again), felt like the next best thing.

He tries and fails to light up a cigarette against the rain, mumbling something of a curse under his breath when he can't—pressed to the building's wall like a dejected kitten, drenched, and showing no indication of moving.

"Someone stole it..." he mumbles drunkenly when he noticed a hazy figure in the dark his eyes couldn't quite make out, addressing the missing shoe, which he assumes was what had peaked their interest. Maybe. "This city's full of bad, bad people..."

"as I live and breathe..." a soft smile graces his tired features, even in as he's taking in the pathetic display of sebastian attempting to light a cigarette in pouring rain.

pulling the handbrake, he gets out of the car, not really minding getting wet as he walks over to him. "need a ride, angelito?"