Strangers In The Night

5. 23 Hours, 47 Minutes Until It Ends

Opening his eyes and tracing his hand along with the melody, the music ended, and Eugen Doga's "Gramofon Waltz" began. Something about the moodiness of the piece stirred his imagination, and Ian stood before him bowing, handsome and dressed in black and white, his smile easy and devious, his eyes sparking. The room was cloaked in shadows, stretching into the great beyond, a splattering of stars overhead, a crowd faceless watching them dance. Their movements were perfect, and Bo held Ian close, his breath right against his ear. Words were muffled, hushed under the chilling music, and as the whispering waltz drifted into the darkness, so did he and Ian.

'Don't,' Bo thought, the word halfhearted, drowning in uncertainty. It tasted of fear, of disappointment. He sat up, his arms heavy, dangling like marionette limbs. Shaking his head, he pressed his hands over his face. The image in his head – personally distasteful and beautiful – dissipated in his head. The curry-like smell emanating from his body was enough to remind him that he couldn't think about it, anyway. 'Please, please don't,' Bo warned.

Forcing himself to his feet and tossing his headphones to the side, Bo let Strauss' "Voices of Spring" play out from his tablet, serenading as he cleaned the grime from his body.

23 Hours, 47 Minutes Until It Ends
The first thing Ian did after splitting from Bo was shower and try to rest, though the lapses of sleep did little to quell his mood or the gentle beginnings of a headache. He checked over the drawings he had done the previous night, unable to care that the perspectives were sloppy by his standards. Ian texted Reed, telling him not to message again this weekend until he returned. Any problems are going to have to be sorted on your end. I'm at a wedding, dude. I don't have the time.

The onslaught of messages from the bridal party brought on more items to purchase, and Ian forced himself from his room to the nearby Walmart again, the third time in less than 24 hours.

"Cat, you don't get it," Ian lamented into his phone, the square pressed so tightly into the side of his face that it would leave behind a red mark. An Adele song played above him, the harsh white lights of the Walmart humming with a low sigh. "God, just, I – he's cute. He's so friggin' cute, and kind of adorable, and I don't – he's so tiring and keeps me on my toes, and it's all so exhilarating."

"I don't understand the problem, my dude," Cat said.

"Jus – something he's been saying. About how he doesn't plan on remembering anyone from this weekend. Or staying in touch with them. I don't remember." The thought was cold inside him, melding with the general rage that seemed to thrive in his veins.

His phone buzzed again. Ian withdrew it and frowned.

Timpson didn't like what you did with the roofline. WE can scan them and redo it but he wants you to redraw them. Have them on the employee drive by 12 :)

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, ignoring the message entirely. "Tell me what to do, Cat."

"Sleep with him tonight, and then never see him again when you come home."

"I don't want to do that. I –" Ian bit his lip, choosing between two different flavors of mints. Irritation built in his gut, but he reminded himself of the sacrifices he was making doing this. That wasn't enough to quell the anger in him. "I don't want to sleep with him. I – okay, I kind of do, but I don't want to sleep with him tonight. I don't want to put him off talking to me." He tossed both sets of mints into his basket and moved on.

"Ian," Haley came on, shoving Cat's voice to the side. "I love you. I think you're great. But you've been talking to him since yesterday."

"You haven't heard us. The conversation, just... it's so much fun. It's electric. It's like talking to you guys, except I think he likes me back. He's so readable, and adorable, and – oh, my God, when he smiles, it's just...amazing. You –" He ducked to the side, letting a family with a shopping cart pass beside him before he darted to the shoe section for gel soles. The family's lingering stare made him want to snap back. "Guys, just tell me what to do."

"You remember me and Taylor," Cat sighed, voice lifting into a nostalgic haze, tinted pastels.

"Oh my God, yes."

"Guys, be serious. I'm asking for help right now."

Cat's voice overtook Haley's – "If I was in your position, I'd fuck him. But since you're not into that, I don't know what else to do."

"He isn't asking for that," Haley said.