#*where to start

When the last of its patrons stumbles away, Scorpio's breathes a collective sigh of relief. Colored lights and booming bass fade to quiet nothingness; employees blink away bedroom eyes and batty lashes, stumble and laugh to shake off their self-projections. The transformation process is one that Hoya has never been quick to go under. He's used to lingering in the club after work to play games and chat and just be for a little while longer. Maybe there's a hint of reluctance to go back to being silly, stupid Lee Howon, but Hoya would never admit this. Instead, he's convinced himself of something he calls 'the calm,' the peace he can have no place, no time else.

They play beer pong like they do on many nights, casual, scattered whoops and yelps due to adrenaline and tight competition. Over the years, Hoya's gotten used to the weight and feel of the ping pong ball; he calculates angles and forces and becomes a contender for the best player in the club. 

The young man across from him, however, has yet to play enough to be confident in the same. He shoots, and the ball goes too far, past Hoya's body, and the club breaks out into laughter before the ball squarely hits the head of..

Things get quiet for a second. Hoya's seen the boy's face before. They've never talked, but he's sure he's seen the other male around somewhere, lingering in the corners of the club, finalizing deals with patrons.