The words reached him, but only as a hum—distant, muffled, like they came from underwater. The party had dulled into background static, the kind that lived in the walls of these houses. Entitled voices, excited for the mess they didn't have to clean. Ugh!

He leaned further into the shadowed corner, his back against cold plaster, the bottle resting easy in his hand. Took another drink—slow, bitter, and oddly warm in the throat.

Let them talk. Let them plan. Let the circus roll. 

His thoughts were turning hazy.

Tonight, he wasn't part of the show. He was just a guy with a drink in his hand and cash in his pocket. A quiet victory.

Askai didn't remember how long he sat like that, drinking the edges off his thoughts. The burn in his throat had long since dulled into a steady warmth, the kind that blurred the night into shapes and sounds without meaning. Somewhere between the sip and the silence, he drew a cigarette from his pack and let it rest between his lips.

"Have one to spare?"

The voice came from behind, slow and slurred, but not unsteady. Askai didn't flinch. He was too far gone to be startled.

Without a word, he turned and offered the stranger a cigarette. The boy sat beside him, uninvited but not unwelcome. In a house like this, anyone could be the host. Maybe this one was. Or maybe he was just another shadow, like Askai, slipping through the cracks.

Again, Askai was too gone to care.

He struck his lighter and held it out, flame steady. They lit up together in silence, two faint glows against the dark.

"God," the boy muttered, exhaling smoke into the air, "silence's a damn blessing after hours of this garbage they call music these days."

Askai smiled at the new face, lingering in the darkness of the shadows. He didn't seem to be from around here.

"You didn't come sooner, then. Trust me, they were saving their best for the last."

That pulled a soft laugh from the boy—low, genuine. Askai chuckled.

'Why are you sitting out here alone? Company is not that bad, once you ignore the music.'

'Not bad?' It was Askai's turn to laugh. 'Then you don't know them yet.'

He felt the cold air biting into his bones, maybe, emanating from the ice in their hearts.

'They are not company. They are monsters.' He whispered, recalling the indifference of the privileged in these streets. 'Monsters of arrogance...greed...vulgarity. You name it. Do yourself a favor and stay off their radar.' 

Askai swallowed a large gulp of whatever was in the bottle, his lips pursed at its bitterness. He turned, just to offer the drink but what he saw made him gasp for his breath. In the moonlight filtering through the trees, the stranger's face came into view. It hit Askai like a punch to the gut.

Black hair tousled carelessly, skin pale and smooth like porcelain under silver light, and eyes—an exquisite shade of light grey, steady, with a weight to them that made one feel seen and stripped down. His features were so sharp as if they had been chiselled out by a Roman sculptor - straight nose, chin square and jaw set hard by indomitable will. He was not an image of male beauty - rather brute strength and raw virility.

Askai had a lean build but years on the street had given him hard muscles around those old bones. He stood taller than most but yet he somehow felt small sitting next to him.

Who was this man?

Askai blinked, realizing he might have been staring too long to be polite. Maybe it was just the alcohol playing tricks on him and in broad daylight, the man next to him would appear more this-wordly.

'Monsters huh?' The man said, taking a swig from the bottle, their gaze locked. 'Never heard that one before.' He whispered under his breath that almost sounded husky to his ears making Askai shook his head. 

He was too drunk.

"You new?" he asked, looking away, heat crawling up his neck. "Don't think I've seen you around."

"Just moved back to the city," his voice sounded almost next to his ears. "Haven't exactly... blended in yet."

Askai turned, watching the way his lips curled around the words—measured, confident. Each syllable dragged out like velvet. He took another drag of his cigarette, gaze flickering, almost without meaning to, to his mouth. There was something deliberate in the way he spoke, the way his fingers moved when he held the cigarette—unhurried, steady, like he knew people watched him and didn't mind at all.

"So," Askai said, voice lighter now, testing the thread between them, "What's your major?"

"Business," the other replied, a small shrug rolling off his shoulders. "Family thing."

Askai let out a low whistle. "Figures. You look like you know which fork goes where."

That earned another quiet laugh. "And you?"

"Law."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not cheap either."

"Yeah, well, you can always find loopholes in that one. It's kind of the whole point." Askai grinned, his answers evasive. There were things he needed to protect.

"Still, Why Law?" The stranger insisted.

The words itself were like a silent command and even if unintended, exacted Askai’s obedience. He shrugged, words pouring out unfiltered from him. "Because that is what life offered and Beggars like me.." casually pointed a finger to himself. "..can't be choosers."

"You don't look like a beggar at all. Trust me."

His heated gaze made Askai's skin prickle and despite all the instincts screaming at him to run away, he leaned in.

"You don't know me, then." Askai replied, his lips curving sensually. Alcohol in his blood had finally off-ed his brain completely.

"Oh..I will. It's a promise." The stranger stared him down.

Their eyes caught again, this time lingering a beat too long. Askai felt it then—not just the alcohol, but the slow shift of air between them. Charged, magnetic. The kind of moment where you're not sure who will move first, but you both know someone will.

His gaze dipped, just slightly, to Askai's mouth. It was so quick it might've been missed. But not by Askai.

And then it was back, locked on him again. There was a stillness between them now, the kind that wasn't awkward, just thick with something unspoken. Askai's fingers brushed too close as he flicked ash off his cigarette, his knee barely grazing the others.

He wondered, dazed, if he was the only one feeling it.

Then he moved, closing in like a wolf on his prey. His movements were confident and charged with a fierce possessiveness. Without hesitation, he reached for Askai's face, fingers threading through his hair, guiding him forward—and then their lips collided.

Askai expected something rough, hurried. But the kiss was slow. Deep. Sweet in the kind of way that made your chest ache a little. His hands slipped under Askai's sweater, soft fingers brushing against his stomach, finding the ridges of his abs. Askai gasped softly into the kiss, and he could swear he felt him smile against his lips.

Then—crash. The sharp shatter of glass.

A woman's shrill voice sliced through the quiet.

The moment broke.

Askai jerked back, breath caught in his throat. The stranger turned, distracted by the chaos behind them—a flurry of shouts and drunken confusion spilling from the hall.

But when he looked back, Askai was gone.

Just smoke where he'd been sitting, and the faint echo of something almost real.