Fire and Rain [🗸]

7. gay clubs and missed words

THE NIGHT FALLS.

The city's painted in shades of black—save for the glows of streetlights and car lights— and we've been wandering around the city aimlessly. 

It's the night after our window-shopping spree in Fifth Avenue, and today's virtually been spent lounging around at the motel before Josiah coerced us into dropping back into Times Square. He'd essentially declared that today had to be the perfect day.

Josiah insisted that seeing as it was our second last day in New York City, we needed something wild and chaotic to do—something that would be the memory that we'd look back on with lazy grins and remember whens.

That's how we end up standing in front of one of Manhattan's most well-known gay clubs, the resounding music and bright lights drawing us closer to the building.

Everyone looks like they fell from the sky and graced the rest of the peasants here with their stellar presence. Sadie's hair is held back with a stunning monarch butterfly hair clip, Josiah's eyeliner should be illegal, Azul's lip gloss is shimmering, Elliot's wearing his ethereal ear cuffs.

And Zahra—Zahra's everything at once. Voluminous, loose curls. Combat boots. Eyeliner—white and winged like a dove. Rings.

She's a lot at once.

Meanwhile, I had no idea what to wear when we were all getting ready. Josiah simply gave me a shit ton of sparkles and I went to town with them. I have a strange addiction to ribbed camis and jeans that pool at my ankles—so, that's what I choose to wear. The cami's cropped enough to wear waist beads, so I do that too.

Back to the present, I stand next to the rest of the Greenport Gang, as we take in the club. Finally, Josiah clears his throat.

"Ready to go in?" 

"Not at all," Elliot says. Azul snorts, adjusting their glasses in the same rhythm they always have. 

"Alright," Sadie says, swinging her arms around both Azul and Elliot. "Let's go in."

With one quick glance exchanged between us, we finally pour into the space.

Our IDs are checked and we're ushered into the space, hit with the waves of music and the people everywhere. The club is overwhelmingly shirtless guys, a profusion of colors and bright lights. While it's still primarily gay men, there are a few queer women and folks who don't fall into the binary.

It's overwhelming, but perfect in its own disastrous way. 

We stick together—one unspoken rule of the Greenport Gang that has always stayed consistent. Whenever we're anywhere unfamiliar, we look out for each other, aware of where everyone is and ready to jump in when necessary.

We make our way to the front first, to get drinks. We're talking about little things and big things, watching everyone who moves or flirts or laughs or settles down. At some point, Josiah and Sadie wander over to the center of the club, sliding into the music with ease as they laugh about something or the other.