Shihwan’s eyes roamed the large hall. Gold and purple lights zoomed repeatedly over the room. Music blared from all corners as the DJ started a new song that riled up the large crowd before him.

It was a club, a premium one, judging by the marble floor and the extravagant decor, but a club nonetheless.

However, there was one thing that stood out to Shihwan.

All the couples before them tended to lean toward a single gender.

“Are we—” asked Shihwan, turning to Boram, who too was scanning the crowd, “at the right place?”

Boram nodded, his eyes now roaming the booths at the back of the club. “I double checked.”

“Isn’t this a gay club?” Shihwan asked, not trying to be too obvious.

Boram paused, then looked around as though he had not noticed that particular detail. “Yeah,” he replied slowly. “I guess it is.”

His gaze stopped at a booth at the far end of the room. “That’s them. I recognize one of the guys,” Boram said as he made his way toward them.

Shihwan looked toward the booth as he followed Boram. He could see about half a dozen people, sitting around a table, quietly talking. Compared to their surroundings, their muted atmosphere stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Hello!” said Boram brightly as they reached the booth.
At first, they ignored him.

Shihwan’s brows furrowed.

“Uh,” Boram continued. “I got an invitation to join you guys here.” He fumbled as he pulled out the letter from his pants pocket.

The look of disdain they sent his way as he tried to smooth out the wrinkles immediately put Shihwan on the defensive. He didn’t like these people.

“We didn’t tell you to come with an escort,” said a gorgeous woman in a silky black dress who sat in the middle of the booth. “Lose him if you want to sit with us.”

Shihwan’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to reply when Boram gently tugged at his shirt.

“It’s okay, Shihwan,” he said in a tense whisper. “Do you mind just waiting for me at the bar?”

“Hyung—” Shihwan began to say, but then met Boram’s gaze and closed his mouth. He sighed. If Boram wanted to join this pompous, overbearing group for his career, who was he to stop him?

“Okay,” Shihwan whispered back, nodding. “I’ll wait for you over there.”

He looked up and briefly glared at the people in the booth, who were still staring at them with obvious contempt. “Let me know if anything happens,” he added, loudly this time to ensure that everyone heard him.

He then walked over to the bar and sat down.

Boram was still in his line of sight, but because the booth he sat in was mostly away from the neon lighting of the club, Shihan could not get a good look at what was happening.

He sighed.

“What’s your poison?” the bartender asked, and Shihwan looked up in surprise. He had momentarily forgotten where he was.

“Uh,” he began as his eyes quickly searched for a menu.

The bartender smiled. “We don’t have menus here.”

“Oh… then, I’ll just take whatever you recommend.”

The bartender gave him a pointed look. “You sure about that? You should always be careful when asking for suggestions in places like these. Some bartenders will recommend only the most expensive drinks.”

Shihwan blinked. He hadn’t brought a lot of money with him. “Sorry, I don’t think—- Then just a beer.”

The bartender nodded as his lean frame reached down for a bottle below the counter. He opened the bottle and set it on the table before Shihwan. “It’s on the house,” he said with a wink.

“Thank you,” Shihwan replied with a small smile. He then turned briefly to once more gaze at the table Boram had disappeared into.

“What’s a guy like you doing here?” the bartender asked suddenly.

Shihwan turned back to him with a surprised look. A guy like him? “Sorry?”

The bartender raised a brow. “You must have figured out by now that this is a gay club. And… you are not our normal type of patron.”

Shihwan gave him a questioning look, to which the bartender pointed at his clothes.

Shihwan looked down. He had worn a white dress shirt and black slacks that he and Boram picked out earlier that day. And though they did seem a little small, it felt like something appropriate for the setting.

The bartender’s soft laugh made him raise his head. “You look as though you’re about to attend church.” He then pointed to the area of his own collarbone. “If you want to blend in, I recommend you pop open a few of the buttons at the top there and roll up your sleeves.”

“Ah,” Shihwan replied, then did as the man suggested.

“It’s obvious this place makes you a little more than uncomfortable,” the bartender continued. “I hope you don’t mind me asking why you are here and how you got in? We’re rather selective and, as I mentioned before, you’re not the type of person who would normally get an invite.”

“Sorry,” Shihwan fumbled, thinking that perhaps the bartender thought he had snuck in. “My friend received an invite from the people in that booth over there. They are a production designer club.”

“Ah,” replied the bartender, nodding as he gazed at the booth Shihwan indicated. “I see. And you’re wary of them?”

Shihwan blinked. “How did you know?”

“Your body language and, of course, the obvious fact that you keep gazing back toward that table.”

Before Shihwan had a chance to reply to the bartender’s comment, two women walked up to the bar to order drinks.

Shihwan watched as the bartender turned around to grab a whiskey decanter from the shelf behind him when a careless clubgoer bumped one of the women from behind. Her arm collided with the open bottle of vermouth the bartender had just recently opened.

Before realizing it, Shihwan found himself jumping over the counter to catch the open bottle before its contents poured over the bartender, but not before the brownish-red liquid made a large stain on his new white shirt.

“I am so sorry!” the woman who had bumped onto the bottle apologized, grabbing several napkins off the counter and reaching over the counter comically to try to blot out whatever she could of the vermouth.

Her friend pulled her back, saying that she was making the stain worse.

“Thank you,” said the bartender to Shihwan once the women left after both he and Shihwan assured them that they had the situation under control.

“There’s a small shower in the back of the bar and a change of clothes I can lend to you,” he continued, leading Shihwan away before he could protest.

“It’s not a big deal,” Shihwan replied. Though it was a new shirt, it hadn’t been all that expensive, and he would much rather not just leave Boram behind without saying anything.

“Don’t worry about your friend,” the bartender said as he pulled him through a door at the end of the club, farthest away from the dance floor. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

In just a few minutes, Shihwan found himself in a small room with a change of clothes in his hands. 

“I’d like to thank you,” the bartender added, staring up at him.

Shihwan shook his head. “It’s really not necessary.”

But the bartender stopped him. “It is; I don’t like owing people. Once you’ve changed, go through that door.” He pointed to a door on the opposite wall of where they had come in. “I think it might fit your tastes better than what you were experiencing out there.”

Shihwan turned to him with a quizzical expression, but the man merely smiled mysteriously before leaving.

~

“I am going to kill him,” Insu mumbled under his breath as he sat in an empty booth in a nearly pitch black room. He crossed a long leg over the other and grimaced at the feeling of smooth silk against his thigh.

He knew that JoonSeo had been up to something. It was one of the reasons he had not returned to this club since the opening night despite knowing all the people who managed or worked here.

And he had been right to be wary of him.

Earlier, JoonSeo had led him to the back of the club, expertly stripping him of his jacket before pushing him into a shower, soaking his remaining clothes.

Cursing, Insu had left the shower to see unfamiliar clothes waiting for him on the bathroom counter. He had unfolded them to find a pair of chocolate nylon stockings, a long, silky black dress with thin shoulder straps.

JoonSeo had tried to get him to crossdress with him before, expounding upon how it doubled the excitement, but Insu simply had no interest in it.

Insu sighed as he picked up his glass of red wine before downing it.

He regretted coming here.

Insu had known that Atrium had a hidden club where only the most attractive – physically and character wise — men were invited to. It was a place his friends had suggested he go many times before. But normally, he preferred the quiet little gay bar they normally attended. It was nothing like this loud pit of sweaty bodies filled with the smell of booze and ceaseless chatter.

But tonight he had actually decided to listen to his friends. They had promised him that only the best of men were allowed in the back of Atrium, men who melted hearts and drove away worries. Men with whom someone like Insu could get serious about… men who would help him forget Shihwan.

Or at least that’s what they had told him.

But he had not expected to come like this.

He cursed again, rubbing his forefinger and thumb against his forehead.

He felt ridiculous, like a fraud. Even if he somehow did meet a man he was interested in, he would have to explain his outfit and live with this embarrassment forever.

At least Shihwan won’t see me like this…

That was his one saving grace.

“I’m going to kill JoonSeo,” he mumbled as annoyance bubbled up within him.

But then it stopped when he felt a presence right before it bumped into his table.

“Sorry,” a deep voice mumbled, and Insu stilled.

The presence let out a small laugh. “I can’t see a thing in here. Is it supposed to be this dark?”

Then a hand reached out, fumbling in the darkness, looking for something to anchor onto. And instead grabbing Insu by his bare shoulder.

And Insu’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

The man quickly retracted his hand, apologizing as he did so. But it was too late, the hand had left a burning impression.

For he knew that hand.

He knew that voice.

.…

It was him. The absolute last person Insu wanted to see.

.