"You have such nice legs, you know?" Corbin said. "Weirdly nice legs."

"You're one to talk."

Corbin raised an eyebrow. "You stare?"

"So what? Clearly you do, too."

"I've never worn a dress clearly meant to show off my legs. Not the same."

"I'd support it if you did."

Corbin laughed and the sound could've been a caress of its own. "Not happening."

Corbin ran his hands from his hips to the curves of his waist, accentuated by the corset. Lower again to the loincloth. He fiddled with it for a second and then, against all of Lucius's expectations, lifted it. 

Lucius's face flared so hot he was certain you could cook a decent steak on it.

Corbin nudged at his inner thighs, pushing his legs wider that way. Staring in complete silence. A silence so loud it could have drowned out the sound of everything else— of the blaring music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and, loudest yet, the beating of his own heart. 

Lucius knew what he looked like. Knew Corbin could very clearly see the bulge of his genitalia against the front of the panties. Not even the dimness of the club could hide that detail away. 

Corbin dipped the tip of a singular finger in the waistband of the underwear. He tugged, but let it snap back against his skin immediately. Lucius groaned at the throb of unadulterated arousal that ran through his body, settling between his legs. Corbin would be able to see that, too.

I wasn't planning on having sex with him, Lucius had told Gior. 

You don't have to plan on it. 

One or both of you are going to wake up and regret it.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Like panic, Lucius kicked at him again, and this time it connected at his chest. Corbin fell back, and Lucius scrambled to right himself, tugging his dress back into place. He looked around frantically, searching for shock or disgust around them. 

No one was watching. Everyone seemed more or less loss within themselves.

He looked back to Corbin and laughed, nervous. "You're more drunk than I thought, huh? There are people around, Corby. Be decent."

Corbin scooted away from him, giving him more space. He reached for his glass and drained it all in a few large gulps. Set it down too hard. 

"What did Gior say to you?" he asked, looking at him sidelong. He was put together again. Like what had just happened— crazy thing it was— had never happened at all. "You didn't come back."

Lucius wrestled with the fact that he hated lying to Corbin and the fact he wasn't certain how to approach the truth without upsetting him.

"He didn't want me to do anything I'd regret," he said after a small hesitation. "Or you. I think he thought I was too drunk. He worries, you know?"

"What?" Corbin scoffed. "Worried I'd hurt you?"

"I think it was more the opposite."

"You hurt me?"

Lucius frowned. "Is that really such a crazy thought?"

Corbin sighed. He reached for Lucius's forgotten drink and started sipping on that.

"I'm so terrible to you, and yet..." He trailed off. Took another sip and licked his lips. "You just let me be. You never hold it against me. You never get me back. I don't know how to feel about that."

"I'm not ashamed to love you," Lucius whispered. He didn't know where exactly it had come from, but it felt as if it had to be said. He handed Corbin his heart because it was starting to feel too big for his chest. Corbin could cradle it or crush it. It didn't matter.

Either way, it would be his. As far as Lucius was concerned, he could hold it forever. 

Corbin leaned his head on a curled fist. "Who said you were?"

"You're my—"

"Don't say it." The fist clenched harder. "We're friends. For some reason, you think I'm your best friend. And you love all your friends, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Right."

"None of them the way I love you, though."

Corbin huffed a harsh breath. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Lucius said even though he was starting to think, maybe, that he did. Starting to realize this was all of a lot bigger than he'd been kidding himself to believe. "Do I have to know?"

"Don't say it then."

"I want— I need you to know."

"Why?"

"Do you know?"

"Lucius."

"Corbin. I love you."

Corbin pulled his hand away and finally looked at him headlong. There was desperation in his eyes. Crazed. "What do you want from me?"

"Your life," Lucius said without consideration. He reached for Corbin's hand to cradle it in his own. "I want you to stay alive. With me."

"And that's all?"

"What do you want?"

Corbin stared at him. Lucius stared back. 

They were all alone. The people around them had all disappeared. Music faded to white noise. Neon lights could have been spotlights. The world stopped, and his heart danced to its silence. Creating its own symphony, elevated only by the beat of the man's across from him. 

They were all alone.

"It's getting late," Corbin said, and the world returned. The spotlight turned away from them, taking its burn with it. Corbin swallowed and took his hand back, freeing himself from Lucius's hold. "I want to go home."

"We can't leave without Gior," Lucius whispered, trying to ignore the way his eyes burned.

"I'll pay for a ride," Corbin said. He drained the rest of Lucius's drink and then stood. "Stay here if you want. Text Gior and let him know I'm leaving."

"No," Lucius said quickly. He stood and stumbled over himself. He steadied himself with an arm around Corbin's shoulders, leaning into his side. "I'm coming with you."

Corbin made a sound Lucius couldn't place. "I'm not asking you to come with me. You can have fun—"

"I want to come with you," Lucius interrupted him. "I'd follow you anywhere. You just never let me."

Corbin tensed. His back went ramrod stiff. He shrugged Lucius's arm off, taking a step away. Like a memory, Lucius felt like heart seize. Like Corbin had taken it and launched it at the ground.

But then, wonder of wonders, he spoke.

"Alright," he said. So quiet it was barely heard in the deafening noise around them. "Yeah. Let's go, Lucy."

They didn't talk as tires spun along concrete roads. They didn't talk as they made the short walk to their hotel. They didn't talk as the elevator carried them to their floor. They didn't talk as Corbin unlocked their door and they stepped inside.

They didn't even talk when, after removing his own shoes, Corbin kneeled down to help Lucius with his own, nudging him to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

Lucius let him. He let him help him out of the dress and then out of the corset. Let him linger around in the bathroom, bent over the edge of the tub and adjusting the running water, as he busied himself with removing his makeup in the mirror. Corbin came back over to help him as he let the water run, gently wiping at his face with the cotton pads he'd stolen from Gior. 

The wig came after. Neither of them really knew what they were doing, but they figured it out easily enough. They dabbed a solvent along the wig's hairline, letting it sit until they could peel it carefully away. Lucius set the wig aside, figuring Elena could deal with its upkeep and not wanting to risk damaging it. 

Corbin wiped the stubborn remaining bits of glue away from his hairline. Lucius scrubbed his face and forehead with soap and water. The soap burned where some of it had snuck into his eyes, and he tried to blink it away. Waiting it out.

Waiting everything out.

"Bathe," Corbin said, and the word felt like permission to breathe. His chest didn't feel so heavy anymore. He gestured to the bath he had run with a nod of his head. "I'll shower in the morning, so feel free to take your time."

"Corby—"

"Morning," Corbin said, only a little harsh. There was a furrow between his brows. "Save everything for the morning, alright?"

Corbin left and Lucius removed the rest of his accessories and his undergarments, climbing into the perfectly warm pool of water. He found himself wishing the tub was a little deeper. He wanted to sink in it. Wanted to drown and come back new.

He didn't know how much time had passed. He'd started to nod off at some point. He still felt at least tipsy— his brain still felt clumsy and slow— but it wasn’t anything like he'd felt in the past. This feeling was lethargic. So, so tired, whereas before he'd been bursting with energy.

This was calm. The calm before the storm or the calm after, he wasn't sure.

When he finally got out and entered the room, he was stepping into darkness. The moon shining through the windows smothered the room in vague outlines. Corbin was curled under his covers and, judging by his breathing, fast asleep. He'd thrown the clothes he'd been wearing haphazardly onto the floor all around the bed which wasn't really a good sign. It wasn't like him at his best.

Only his worst. 

After quickly throwing on a pair of pajama pants and some boxers, he gathered Corbin's clothes. Folded them, not well but certainly better than they'd been, and set them all on the dresser. Then, he hesitated.

There was Corbin's bed, and then there was his own. Corbin had slept in his bed the previous night. Why couldn't he sleep in Corbin's, now?

He shuffled over, tentative and so stupidly scared. Of what? That Corbin might leave? That seemed inevitable— the kind of thing he was destined to do over and over. He always came back in the end. That was truly all that mattered.

He pulled a corner of the covers back. Faltered, waiting for Corbin to stir and snap at him. Neither thing happened. He slid into bed beside him.

He reached for him immediately, unable to help himself. He threw an arm around his waist and pressed his chest to his back. Shoved his face into his hair and breathed it in. Always such a familiar, comforting smell. 

"What are you doing?" Corbin said, voice roughened with exhaustion.