Revie had a new obsession.

He could read his name stitched on his apron. Bastian had the saddest eyes he’d ever seen, long and blond hair casually tied up on the back of his head. Every single smile for a customer was faker than the previous. He reminded him of his mother.

Revie carefully stared at him for half an hour from his table, pretending he was listening his friends’ conversation. It wasn’t the first time he met Bastian: at the pub, around the university or in their city – but Bastian never really caught his attention, until a few days earlier. Revie allowed himself to look at Bastian every night spent at the pub since then, looking away any time the barman was searching around the pub for those insisting eyes he could feel on his body.

A red, hearth shaped neon lamp on the wall, next to the counter, was staining red everything around it, including the barman, who was standing there cleaning some glasses.

Red suited Bastian well, better than how it looked on his own arms. Without realizing it, Revie was touching his arm through the shirt, where he cut himself the previous day. And as he was staring at the barman, he asked himself how his arms full of blood would have looked.

Revie had a new obsession: he was gonna have sex with Bastian. If he wanted it or not wasn’t relevant to him.