One year ago (sans a couple of weeks)

He waved goodbye to Marissa and Rachel. They were the wives of two of Ken's henchmen and looked every bit the part with gaudy designer accessories and thousands of dollars of work done on their faces and tits. Theo was yoga buddies with them, and he always wondered if they knew that both of their husbands had fucked him before. Regardless, they were nice enough and always invited him to lunch with them after class.

He always declined.

Instead, he turned away and started down the street in the other direction. This was a nice neighborhood. Trees stood tall every couple of yards, shading the storefronts. The sidewalks were made from bright red bricks and the street was freshly paved, the asphalt black. People walked their dogs.

So, he wasn’t paying much attention as he strolled along, deciding where to go to eat lunch. This was why he was so startled when one of the pedestrians heading in the opposite direction from him veered into his path. He came to an abrupt stop, hands tucked close to his stomach.

“Excuse me,” the man said, then, “I’m sorry. You probably don’t remember me.”

“I remember you,” Theo told him, taking another step back.

 How could he forget? For starters, he was covered in thick black tattoos from his neck down to his knuckles. He had jewelry glinting in his ears and a pretty pair of eyes that looked straight through Theo instead of at him. They made him feel like he was more than just shadow art projected at a screen to entertain people, but an actual soul inside an actual body.

And this was the guy who caused a big scene at Ken’s party the other night.

“Oh, okay, that’s good because it would have been mortifying to have to explain to you where you knew me from just so I could apologize.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and Theo looked at the way his black t-shirt stretched across his biceps. “I wanted to say that I’m really sorry for stepping into a situation without knowing what was up and then causing Ken to make you, uh…well, I’m sorry that my misunderstanding meant that your business got dragged out in front of the whole party.”

Theo shrugged. “It’s okay. Nothing they haven’t seen before, honestly.”

The man blanched, eyes going a little wide and scandalized the way they had been that night. But he quickly hid his surprise by looking at the yoga mat slung over Theo’s shoulder. “You just get out of a fitness class or something?”

“Yes.” Theo narrowed his eyes. “What’s it to you? In fact, how the hell did you know where I was?”

People had stalked him before to get at him when he was away from the safety of Ken’s influence. Ken was a scary man, but Theo was like catnip. Or so Ken told him whenever he reminded him to be careful. He was just too tempting with his pretty, feminine lips and bedroom eyes. So sometimes guys would find him when he was doing things like getting out of yoga class.

He checked over his shoulder to make sure the wives were gone.

The man, meanwhile, had thrown his hands out and protested Theo’s suspicions. “Oh, I had no idea you came around here. I just…I work over there.” He pointed across the street to a dark, industrial-aesthetic bar. “I saw you through the window and just wanted to apologize. That’s all.”

“Okay, thanks,” Theo ducked his head and pressed his lips into a polite smile. He figured that would be the end of the conversation, but the guy was not finished.

“I actually took my lunch, so would you let me take you somewhere for a bite to eat?” He asked. “As an apology.”

“Oh.” He had been trying to decide where to go for lunch anyway. “Um.”

“Come on.” The guy checked his watch. “It’s lunchtime. You just got out of yoga or whatever. What are you hungry for?”

“Vietnamese” was the first thing to roll off Theo’s tongue. Because it was ridiculous and everyone always thought he was dumb for loving Goi cuon and Pho and for learning the proper way to pronounce them. But as he said it, he realized he really was craving a big, hearty bowl of broth.

“There’s a place just down the block.” The man smiled genuinely so that it reached his pretty eyes. Theo blinked. “Have you been?”

“Um, yeah,” he said vaguely, enchanted by the sparkle in the guy's eyes. “They have pretty good pho.”

“Let’s go then. I’ll treat you.” He started down the sidewalk, gesturing for Theo to follow. “I’m Abel, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Theo.”

He watched in absolute amazement as Abel ordered a bowl of Pho, then looked across the table at Theo expectantly. “Get whatever you want.”

Theo looked up at the waiter. “I’ll just have a small bowl of pho, as well.”

And then Abel sat back in his chair and looked at Theo, his head tilted back a little and his hands folded in his lap. Theo bristled under the scrutiny, glaring back and spitting, “What?”

“So how did a nice guy like you end up with an asshole like Ken?”

Theo snorted and looked away. “I’m not a nice guy.”

Abel shifted his arms to cross them over his chest and tilted his head to the side. “No, I guess you aren’t. What are you then?”

Theo stared at him across the table. Outside the big front windows of the store, pedestrians strolled by on the sidewalk. A few other tables were filled with people eating lunch. Someone was waiting for takeout, nose buried in their phone. The sounds from the kitchen—banging, sizzling, and shouting—escaped the swinging doors as the waiter pushed through them to bring their plastic bag filled with food. This was not exactly the place Theo wanted to discuss what he was if he even knew what that was anymore.

He used to be a student, a son, a boy. Now, he was a shadow, but he couldn’t exactly explain that to Abel over a bowl of pho, even if the guy wanted to hear it. ‘What’s a nice guy like you…’ is a pickup line if there ever was one, even if Abel had already gotten him into a restaurant. Christ, what was Theo doing here? This was not exactly a conversation for small talk. Even Theo’s therapists used to have difficulty talking to him back in the day, and they were goddamn professionals.

“I’m a trophy wife,” he waved a hand dismissively, despite being hardly anything close to a wife and far more dented than polished. “How about you?” He turned the conversation around because that was always a safe bet. “You work at a bar? Are you a bartender?”

“Yeah,” Abel eased into the shift in conversation without missing a beat, but not as if he was full of it and happy to go on and on about himself the moment someone asked. His eyes lingered on Theo’s, still peering into them curiously as though he wanted to push to get to know Theo but was aware that he was close to crossing a line that might make him bolt. “It’s a…cocktail room more than a bar, really. Fancy stuff and reservations and whatnot. There’s chandeliers in that place, for god’s sake.”

He pressed his lips together with one corner hooked up in an amused smile, eyes rolling. A man like this, with broad shoulders, a predator rearing back to strike tattooed on his neck, and mirror-black eyes, should not look that cute ever. But he somehow did. His eyelashes were gorgeous, softening his face. He was lively, open, and animated, nothing like the harsh and aggressive men Theo was used to. He was a person, not a demon.

“Sounds kinda cool, though.” Theo looked at Abel’s hands and imagined him making a cocktail with them. “Do you have to, like, memorize a bunch of recipes?”

“That and come up with new ones to suggest all the time,” Abel told him. “That part is kind of fun.”

The waiter returned, accompanied by the cacophony of the kitchens, their pho in hand. He set it before them, made sure they had everything they needed, then hurried off again. Abel picked up the chili oil on their table and peered through the bottle at the contents before mixing it in his dipping bowl with some hoisin sauce.

“I don’t like cilantro, you know,” he said, picking up his chopsticks.

“You rhymed,” Theo pointed out, watching his fingers curl around the utensils. “Cilantro, you know.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Abel grinned and reached across the table to pinch a feathery green leaf of cilantro out of Thro’s broth. He stuck it in his mouth, then made a face.

“What are you doing?” Theo laughed, surprised. “You said you didn’t like it! Are you one of those people who thinks it tastes like soap?”

Abel nodded as he dipped a piece of beef into his chili oil before stuffing it into his mouth to get rid of the soapy cilantro taste. A smile lifted the corners of Theo’s lips no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. He put an elbow on the table and rested his cheek in his palm to watch Abel chew, then lick the little bit of oil glistening on his lips.

They ate in silence for a little while, tearing up basil leaves, squeezing lemon over their bowls, and chasing pieces of beef around in the broth. Theo hummed happily as the rich broth filled his belly with warmth.

Abel glanced up and met his eyes, something curious glinting across their gaze. Theo’s breath caught somewhere in his chest and lodged there just like all his thoughts suddenly turned syrupy slow. He was not sure how to feel about someone looking genuinely curious about him, not his body or Ken, but him. Like Able was looking past the pretty blue of Theo’s eyes straight into his fizzling-out thoughts.

Before either could break the strange suspended moment of time, Theo’s phone rang, and he dropped his eyes to it. Immediately, that ray of elation is snuffed out like a peek of sunlight amongst the clouds. It never stood a chance anyway.

Ken’s name stared up at him from his screen. His finger hovered over it, caught between not wanting to take a call from his boyfriend, slash pimp, slash personal demon in front of Abel, and not wanting to face the inevitable hell said demon would rain down if he declined the call. He bit his lip.  

He declined the call and then immediately sent a quick text that he was on his way home.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, glancing up briefly as his thumbs typed out the message.

Abel had this look on his face, and Theo did not really know what to do with it either. He looked almost worried, the corners of his lips drawn down, and his eyes suddenly tight instead of liquid warm like they had been just moments before. He was probably annoyed that Theo was on his phone. Ken always got irate if Theo paid attention to his phone instead of him.

“Sorry,” Theo sent off the text and shoved the phone below the table, hiding it from view, drawing his arms in to make himself smaller in his seat. “Thanks for lunch.”

“No problem,’ Abel said breezily, completely at odds with the expression on his face. “It’s too bad you already have to go. We should do it again sometime. Could I get your number?”

Theo’s face warmed. But below the table, his phone buzzed against his fingers with Ken’s response—reality calling. He frowned. “That’s…no, sorry. That’s not a good idea.”

He stood hastily, caught between glancing down at his phone and keeping an eye on Abel’s furrowed brow. He was distracted enough that he caught his foot on the leg of the chair and nearly tumbled to the ground, knocking into the table and rattling all of the dishes.

“Christ, sorry,” he apologized again with a huff as Abel put a steadying hand on the table. “Thanks again.”

Then he bolted, turning on his heel to hide his flaming face and avoid Abel’s reaction to his less-than-graceful retreat.