I slide up next to him and wave down the bartender. Angel’s fiddling with a coaster, taking deep breaths, so I give him a moment to calm down. I sure know I need one. The bartender walks over and just as she gets to us, his face scrunches up and he lets out a distressed whine. She asks if he’s alright and levels a fierce glare at me.

Oh shit, did I read this situation all wrong? Maybe he isn’t interested, and I misinterpreted his fear for excitement. Could this be his girlfriend and now I’m fucked? I raise my hands in a placation, already on my back foot to leave, even if it rips out my heart to walk away from him. I don’t want to cause trouble. Before I’m able to move away, his hand shoots out and grabs mine. He shakes his head at her and says he’s embarrassed. Why is he embarrassed? I think back over what I’ve said to him. Definitely too forward. I’m gonna have to try harder to rein it in because I don’t want to scare him away. 

He asks my name, so I give it to him with a small smile. He chats with the bartender, their conversation turning friendly. I keep my smile while listening to their banter and allow myself to relax a bit. She doesn’t seem to want to kick my ass anymore, and he hasn’t let go of my hand. In fact, I don’t think he’s noticed, but he’s threaded our fingers together too. It feels so right, his smaller hand in my big calloused mitts. His fingers are short and blunt with gold rings on a couple, his palms soft, his fingernails painted in black polish. I rub my thumb along his knuckles, enjoying the touch. 

The bartender breaks into my thoughts, asking if I want a drink. I order a beer, hoping she’ll go away and I can have him to myself again. I lean my elbow on the bar top, impatient for that to happen. After she leaves, he turns to me, biting his plump lower lip and apologising. I wanna nibble that lip, tell him it belongs to me now and he can’t tease me by biting it himself. The thought amuses me. He mistakes my amusement, thinking it’s directed at him. I need to reassure him so that my opinion of him is clear. I don’t want to embarrass him again, so I settle on the truth. 

“Nah, you’re perfect.” But I need to keep talking or he’s going to think I’m some weirdo. So, I ask about the bartender. I don’t think they’re in a relationship, but I’ve been mistaken before, so I should check. “She seems a smidge overprotective, y’all a thing?” He says no. Thank the heavens. 

Then he gestures down to his clothes, saying, “I, however, support equal opportunity. Give me all the love.”

It’s then that I notice he has on Bi flag coloured tights. Double confirmation he’s into dudes. So fucking lucky. I’m failing hard at playing it cool and have to bite back my widening grin. He raises an eyebrow and asks what’s so funny with a heaping dose of sass. I lift our hands to show him he still has a hold of me. 

“I had a sneaky suspicion you might be into guys from the dick jumping comment. And trust me, I wanna give ya all the love. Just wonderin’ about this.”

His jaw drops open in surprise and he whips his hand away from mine, looking at the floor in embarrassment. He stutters out apologies which make me feel like shit. Dammit, I didn’t mean to embarrass him again. I wanna hold his hand forever. But he’s so goddamn cute, I can’t help the chuckle that escapes as I step back into his space. I reach over and grab his hand, threading our fingers together once again while lifting his chin with my other hand. Despite his adorable shyness, I want to see his eyes again. 

“You don’t have to let go. I wasn’t complainin’, and you don’t gotta be embarrassed. I really like holdin’ your hand. It’s sweet, like you Angel.”

I let my hand caress his cheek and down to the back of his neck. His hair is so silky, and I twirl it around my fingertips as I gaze down at him. Again, his hand is on my chest, searing through my clothes. He’s trembling, his breath coming out shaky. He licks his lips and I almost come undone, groaning low in my throat. I need to kiss him more than I need to breathe, more than I’ve needed anything in my entire life.

I plead with him, beg him to let me, “Can I kiss you? Please Angel? I want to so bad.” 

He sucks in a deep lungful of air as his pupils blow wide. Nodding faintly, he leans into me, raised up on his toes. Alarms scream in my head while adrenaline goes into overdrive. He said yes! I’m allowed to kiss this beautiful man. I lean down to meet his lips, but suddenly he disappears out of my arms and crashes to the floor. Panic and anger surge through me and I level a glare at the asshole who dared push him and ruin this moment.

“Watch where you’re goin’, jerk!” I shout at him, trying to hold back my anger. I focus my attention on Angel, stopping myself from grabbing him, wrapping him in my arms, and whisking him away. 

“You okay? That was a nasty fall.” He nods at me, rubbing his elbow. The man who bumped into him apologises, but before he can say more, some other asshole grabs onto the first jerk and starts yelling into his face. This new asshole is spewing typical prejudiced bullshit and calling names. Angel is getting upset. He backs into me, shaking, and breathing shallow and fast. I don’t want him to be upset or afraid, so I use the most neutral tone possible, even though I’m raging.

“Hey man, calm down. Ya can’t talk to him like that.” I put my hands on Angel’s arms and gently push him behind me, creating a wall between them. I don’t know what he’s gonna do, and I want Angel to be safe.

The asshole turns his focus onto me and continues yelling. He’s using the wrong pronouns for the guy who pushed Angel, and what he’s saying finally penetrates through my fog of anger. This son of a bitch followed a trans man to the toilets and assaulted him. Then when he tried to escape, Asshole followed and assaulted him again.

I only thought I was angry before. A red haze obscures my vision, and I clench my jaw so tight my teeth might crack. I’m vaguely aware that Angel has grabbed the other man and pulled him behind me as well. I can’t make this situation worse, even if I’m livid. We’re in the middle of a crowd. Angel is close and could get hurt. I have to calm down. I take a deep breath and try to reason with the asshole.

He keeps vomiting bigoted bullshit, which is not helping me calm down. This is the very reason I constantly worry about Kylie’s safety. How can I trust the people I love are safe when horrible humans like this guy can say and do whatever they want? I wish I could beat this fucker into the floor, but I have to be the bigger man.

I’m unprepared for the first fist that comes flying at my face. He lands a solid punch right to my jaw, and it sends me reeling. Before I can get my bearings, he takes a run at me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and throws us to the floor. Yes, now it’s on. I can beat the tar outta this shitstain because he threw the first punch. Juvenile, I know, but oh so satisfying.

He gets in another punch to my mouth, before I’m able to roll us over. But then, I have the upper hand and start wailing on him. I register the sound of a sharp crack as blood spurts from his nose. I ease up, pulling my punches. I don’t want to kill the guy, just rough him up and teach him a lesson. He didn’t know when he picked this fight that not only have I been in my fair share of fistfights, I also swing a hammer for a living. My muscles aren’t just for show. 

After a brief moment that feels like hours, hands grab and pull me away. I don’t fight them. I’m sure it’s the bouncers, and I don’t have a beef with them. As they drag him to the door, the asshole is kicking, thrashing, and screaming, with blood splattering across the floor as he shouts and flails. His face is a mess of cuts and burgeoning bruises, his nose slanted at a funny angle.

I scan the crowd for Angel. Is he okay? Did he get caught up in the fist fight? Dammit, I fucked this all up. Why couldn’t I keep my temper in check? I finally see him next to the bar, the assaulted man in tears sandwiched between him and the bartender. She’s trying to calm him down as he clings to Angel’s arm.

I shout across the room, “You okay?”

He gives me a sharp nod, worry etched into his face. He tries to pull away from the man’s grip as I’m manhandled away from him before being dumped outside the front door. I pace in front of the club, fuming as the bouncer eyes me warily. He snaps a terrible polaroid of my bruised and bloody face, asks for my name, and tells me I’m banned.

It crashes into me like a ton of bricks. What’s Angel’s real name? It all happened so fast and I kept calling him Angel. I don’t know his name. I don’t have his number. And now I’m banned from the only place I know for sure he goes. Fuck my life. Unfortunately, the Asshole is gone, or I may have just kept wailing on him for making me lose my one chance with the most wonderful person on the planet. I know it’s petty and shitty of me, but I hope he has to go to the hospital to fix that broken nose. I wipe the blood from my chin with the back of my hand. They’re raw and bloody, shaking and throbbing with pain. 

Not knowing what else to do, I turn to the bouncer that took my photo and plead, “Can ya please tell the guy I was with that I’ll wait for him out here?”

“Hell no, I ain’t telling him shit, and you can’t wait here. You gotta go.” He sneers.

No, no, no. I can’t leave. The bouncer’s not fucking around and glares at me with contempt. I don’t want him to call the cops on me, so I back up and start walking, but I don’t make it very far before I turn down an alleyway full of trash bins. I rear back and punch one with all my strength, leaving a bloody indent behind. That’s not enough. I kick it, my steel toed work boots leaving a big dent in the side, while cursing and yelling out my anger and frustration.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” 

What kind of idiot am I? Why can’t I hold my temper? I got into a bar fight, for fuck’s sake! Even if I had his name and number, he’d run for the hills if I called him. No one wants to date the guy who fights in clubs!

My phone vibrates and beeps from my front pocket. I dig it out, groaning and cursing again when I see the smashed up screen, but still glad I didn’t lose it. I swipe at the screen, hoping it still works. There’s a bunch of frantic texts from Ky. Our crazy drunk neighbour is trying to get into the apartment, thinking it’s theirs. 

Dammit, I’ve got to get home quick. I installed extra locks on the door, but who knows how long they’ll last if he gets violent. I jog back to the street and flag down a cab, sliding in when one stops. The cabbie does a double take at my face while I tell him my address. I ask to go as quickly as possible, it may be an emergency. To his credit, he gets me there in record time. 

I take the stairs two at a time. My heart racing, gearing up for another fight. The neighbour isn’t in the hallway, and the door looks fine. I knock on the door while I use my keys to undo the bolts. Kylie will have the chain across the door, so she’ll need to open it for me. 

I call out, “Ky, it’s me. Can ya let me in?” The chain scrapes back, the door flying open a second later. Ky peeks out, grabs my arm and yanks me inside, slamming the door and locking the bolts behind me. She leans back, her head resting against it, and lets out a big relieved sigh. 

“Sorry to make ya come home early. I was freakin’ out.” Her eyes bug out wide when she looks at me. “Shit! What happened to you? Did ya get mugged?”

I shake my head and collapse onto the couch, drained of all energy. I tell her an abridged version of my night, leaving out all my thoughts of Angel. There are some things you just don’t tell your teenage sister. By the end of my retelling, she’s wide-eyed, her mouth open in astonishment. She scoots over and tucks up into my side. 

“Thanks for defendin’ the guy, even if it got ya kicked out, and you lost your chance with Angel. I wish someone had stuck up for me when I needed it. Then a haircut wouldn’t have shot me into a dysphoria spiral and I wouldn’t have all these.” She rubs her hands up and down the scars littering her arms. I squeeze her tight. 

“Maybe. But you got through it cause you’re strong. And you got me now. I’ll always fight your corner.”

I smack a kiss on the top of her head and heave myself up off the couch. “Gotta take a shower. Get to bed, it’s late.” She grins at me, sits up straighter, and gives me a mock salute.

“Yes, sir!”

I roll my eyes, then head to the bathroom to wash away the blood.