“What is this,” Wes mumbled as he clumsily registered for a new hook-up app, “There we go.” He stood and went into the bathroom, grabbing the bottom of his tank top to pull it over his head, hitting the switch to turn on the light and stare at himself in the mirror. “I look awesome,” He murmured as he turned a little, patting his abs before he straightened his shoulders. When he decided that pose made him look like a douche, he then tried a slightly different posture, tugging his jeans lower on his hips until the top of his dick was almost showing. He snapped a picture and then scrutinized it.

Deciding it was good enough, he fiddled with his profile to try and add the photo-

Pounding on his door startled him enough that he dropped his phone in the sink, the case popping off. He groaned and reached down to pull it out and try to snap the case back on, but the pounding on his front door got harder, louder - it sounded like the door was about to be broken in.

“Fuck, man-” He growled, quickly trying to figure out if he was late on rent, which wasn't entirely uncommon for him. 

He scowled and carried his phone out of the bathroom, walking by the calendar pinned to the wall of his bedroom to stab his finger on the day rent was due, a full three days from now.

“Okay?” He scoffed, tossing his cell phone aside to grab his beer bottle from a table in passing as he stomped out toward the front door. “FINE!” He shouted as he took a swing of his beer, undoing the locks before he hastily pulled his low-hanging jeans up so his ass didn’t fall out in front of his landlord. The last time that happened, he got called Sweet Cheeks by said landlord for a month.

He threw open the door then, but it wasn’t his short, fat landlord in his usual track jacket and board shorts.

Wes instead immediately saw the popped collar of a beaten-up leather jacket, opened to reveal a broad, heavily muscular chest in an almost too tight t-shirt and a pair of dog tags. Definitely not his landlord. Wes had to look up slightly to see the face of a man that looked like he was one wrong word away from completely breaking in half or having his head explode.

The dude looked fucking unhinged, his gaze only visible to Wes as he was slightly shorter, the forest green baseball cap on his head pulled low. The look in his eyes could scare anyone into shitting their pants. Luckily Wes was already too drunk to really think too hard on it, so he just scowled and eyed him.

“Westley Castor?” The man asked in a rough tone, his expression pinching then as he seemed to chew on the inside of his cheek.

Wes frowned and moved his beer bottle in small circles to stir the liquid inside as he looked the other man over with a suspicious look before he drawled “What do you want?”

“I’m Jackson Hawthrone.” The stranger said in a certain tone that meant that Wes was supposed to know who he was.

Wes’s gaze rolled up in thought, but when he looked at the man he shook his head a little with a frown. “Okay?” He said with a silent scoff, reaching down to pull his jeans back up a little so he wasn't in danger of flashing the stranger. “I don’t know who the fuck you are man, or why you’re here.”

The other man inhaled sharply and Wes saw his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but lost his nerve - he suddenly grabbed at his head and shoved off his baseball cap to scratch at his crew cut before he looked at Wes with a distraught look.

And suddenly Wes knew why he was here, and Wes cursed softly and rolled his eyes.

This guy was a Lock, looking for a Key.

And Wes’s name was now on an official record that was visible to enough people to be concerning.

“Yeah,” Wes said slowly as he leaned against the doorframe. “I don’t do that shit,” Wes said, waggling a finger at the man before he leaned away from the desperate-looking man. “I know you’re hurting, man, and I’m sorry, but I’m not the Key you’re looking for.” He said with a little chuckle, slowly waving a hand to mimic doing a Jedi mind trick. “Sorry, but not-” He inhaled sharply, taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah, not happening with me, man.”

The man stared at him in disbelief for a beat. “You’re all that I have.” He said in a flat tone, his eyes widening a fraction like he honestly didn't expect Wes to tell him ‘no’.

So this wasn’t going to be easy. It never was! Mm. He sighed and loosely put a hand on his hip, as he took a step back into his apartment.

“Jason?” Wes tried.

“Jackson.” The other corrected.

“Jackson.” Wes said quickly in an almost apologetic tone, “As I said. Not happening. Sorry.” He moved the door to close it, but a steel-toed boot in the door prevented that.

When the door was forced back open by a rough-looking hand, Wes met the pleading, anxious gaze of the slightly - alright, not so slightly - taller man. “You’re all that I have.” The man stressed desperately, fixing Wes with a hard look. “I’ll do anything to -” He huffed, “To be able to sleep again. To be able to fucking think!” He pleaded loudly, screwing his eyes closed briefly before he clutched at his face with both hands. “I can’t - I can’t even string together - together a thought anymore without it hurting, without it slipping away!” He said desperately before he dropped his hands away to look at Wes like a drowning man might. “Please!”

Wes threw up his hand up from his hip. “It’s not that easy, man!” He said, lifting his beer to take a quick drink as he thought of his usual excuses for whenever some rando Lock would come looking for him to be their Key. It wasn’t often, but it happened occasionally, more so when he was still in high school before his Grandpa started taking shots at them with his rifle. “I’m not trained. I could do more damage to you than good.” He said with an anxious laugh, “You know what the saying is about untrained Keys...they fuck up Locks so the next Key doesn’t fit properly, or...whatever.” That wasn’t right. It was funny too. Why couldn’t he remember it?!

“I don’t care,” Jackson said firmly, his face twisting in panic and pure upset. “Anything is better than this. Anything!”

Wes dragged his free hand down his face before he rolled his eyes, waving his beer bottle around briefly with a scowl. “I’ll just-” He sighed, looking over his shoulder to see he had another two minutes before his weekly show started. He sucked on his teeth before he looked back at the sad, deranged-looking man. He frowned. “I’ll think about it, man. I need to think about it. Just give me a couple days.”

The other man’s already hunched shoulders fell further and his entire being seemed to deflate with disappointment, but Wes wasn’t swayed.

“I got-” Wes glanced back, “You kind of caught me at a bad time, alright? Come back later and we’ll talk about it.”

Jackson’s gaze jumped to look over Wes’s shoulder like he was trying to figure out just what Wes was doing that was so important, but when he looked back to Wes he nodded a little with a pleading look before he uneasily pulled his foot out of the doorway, moving it so slowly it appeared to weigh a ton.

As soon as the doorway was empty Wes firmly closed the door in the man’s face. He turned the five distinct locks on his door before he twirled on his heel to waltz to the couch and collapsed onto it, sipping at his beer as he stared at the tv. During a commercial, he found his phone and went back to fixing up his profile on his new hookup app. On the commercial break after that, he started looking for local hookups. He was shit over text though so he didn’t get far with any of them, though he did get a couple boob pics, which was good enough to keep him entertained.

A folded piece of paper was slid under his door. He stared at it, his gaze flickering between it and the tv before it fixed back on his show. He stood up and walked carefully over to the paper to pick it up, carrying it to the couch to sit back down and watch his show. On the next commercial break, he glanced down at the paper. 

It was a flyer for a car wash.

Okay?

He laughed a little at that before he flipped it over to see someone had written on the back. His smile dropped.

I’ll be back later - Hawthorne, along with an address, a phone number, and I’ll pay for everything and anything.

Thanks, but Wes’s sanity didn’t have a price tag.

Wes scowled at it before he crumpled up the paper and tossed it behind him, propping his feet up on his coffee table before he finished his beer.

Fucking Locks.

He wasn't going to let one of them ruin his night, though. He might not have made any hot matches online, but he still had sweet, sweet porn and an internet full of videos of beautiful, horny women. 

He picked his phone back up with a wolfish grin and then set his beer down on the couch before he unzipped his pants, settling further into the couch to reach down his pants with his free hand -

His phone died.

Wes gave out a frustrated scream and threw up his hands before he lay sideways on the couch, crying quietly as his show came back on. 

He just couldn't catch a break tonight, could he?

When his show ended he went to his kitchen to dig around in his cabinet for a cheap bottle of whiskey, chugging it until his mind was pleasantly fuzzy.

As an unmatched Key, his mind always buzzed slightly from all the other open minds around him - he could sense everyone in the building, their thoughts like little distant clouds that he only needed to reach out to access. When he was drunk, the clouds became harder to sense and he could get a night of proper sleep-

If he was honest with himself, he hadn't gone to sleep sober since he was fourteen, when his abilities had really taken off.

When he was separated from the only other key he had ever known.

After Wes polished off the bottle, he drunkenly ate a piece of bread before he dragged himself into his bedroom and fell face forward onto his bed.

He fell asleep just like that.