Revie had a new obsession.

He could read his name stitched on his apron: Bastian.

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 last. He reminded Revie of his mother.

Revie carefully stared at him for half an hour from his table, pretending to listen to 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. 

Since then, Revie allowed himself to stare at him every night at the pub, looking away only when the bartender searched the room for the persistent gaze he could feel on his skin. 

A red, hearth-shaped neon lamp on the wall, next to the counter, stained in crimson everything around it, including the barman, as he stood there wiping down glasses.

Red suited Bastian, better than how it looked on Revie’s arms. Without realizing it, Revie pressed his fingers against his sleeve, right over the cuts he’d made the day before. And as he was staring at the barman, he wondered what Bastian’s arms would look like covered in blood.

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