The Lonely Ones

Bonus Chapter

Hello, hello friends! If you aren't aware, I had a poll where readers voted for what they wanted if we reached a certain ink goal on Tapas during their Inksgiving event in November. One of the winners was a bonus chapter and here it is! I was going to break this into two parts and update on Sunday and Wednesday during the holiday week, but I'm already busy and I will be on Wednesday so here it is as a full chapter. The Lonely Ones will return Wednesday, the 29th. Enjoy the holidays and enjoy this modern day AU because I thought it'd be fun to imagine how the boys would be in the modern world :D

Everybody who is anybody wants access to the Jolly Road. The club is the best in town. There are only two ways to get in; looks or money. Wren has both. The party boy with far too much access to an uncaring father's money spends every night in the thralls of alcohol, deafening music, and bed sheets. The latter of which changes on occasion, but the nights remain the same. Fun. Pure, relentless, heinous fun.

Like every Friday night, Wren shows up at the Jolly Road surrounded by giggling fools. They skip the line, waltzing into fragmented lights and boisterous songs. Wren heads to the bar where he orders a round for all. Hearing the cheers of acquaintances and strangers alike put a twisted smile on his face. The attention he wants and deserves.

Through the night, he bounces around the club from the bar to the dance floor to a secluded room and back. Which may be where his struggles began, specifically in a secluded room, because tonight an upset lover to one of Wren's many nightly pursuits offers him a drink. One that drenches him and his five hundred dollar jacket. It would be rude not to return the favor in kind.

Wren throws the first punch that lands against the stranger's jaw. The stranger returns in kind, jamming his fist into Wren's ribcage. The hoots and hollers of the growing crowd around them barely carry over the music. Wren tumbles to the floor in a heap of twisted limbs with the angered stranger until two strong arms grip him under the armpit and hoist him like he's nothing.

"Break it up! Break it up!" shouts one of the bouncers that the club goers call Goldylocks. Not because of his luscious hair, but rather lack thereof. His head shines more than a recently cleaned bowling ball. The other bouncer clutching Wren is nameless. All he catches is a side glance where he's met by a peculiar eyepatch that he questions whether it's necessary, a fashion choice, or a fetish. He doesn't judge.

The bouncer's intervention doesn't immediately help. The estranged lover lunges the moment Goldylock's grip loosens. He lands a hit against Wren's lip. Wren kicks the bastard between the legs, finally falling into Goldylock's grasp. The one clutching Wren throws him in the opposite direction from the fight.

"Get out," Eyepatch demands, keeping a firm hold on Wren's shoulder. He's about to argue until cupid shoots him with a thousand arrows leaving him breathless, although that may also be from the previous fist that made a momentary home in his ribs.

Eyepatch is hot. Strong jaw. Muscular arms. No doubt an amazing set of abs beneath that unflattering black shirt that should be required to be tighter. For safety purposes. And an enticing green eye brighter than bright even among the chaotic lights of the club.

"I said get out," Eyepatch repeats. He's even hot when he glares and pushes Wren a few steps back.

Shaking his head, Wren breaks himself out of his trance to argue, "That asshole started it."

"And you should have let us handle it." Eyepatch pushes more.

Wren stands his ground, scoffing, "You're new, aren't you?"

Eyepatch twists his nose. A powerful move in his arsenal because his irritation is downright adorable.

"Yeah. What of it?" Eyepatch hisses through clenched teeth, probably sensing Wren's about to say something stupid, infuriating or both.