i'm falling again, i'm falling

Chapter 2

Thin silk was draping his chest, cascading down in a waterfall manner, looking infinite with the folds of fabric tucked into the trousers. The cold, gliding sensation met hot velvet, showing faint hints of ink in places where the shirt was smoothed out against his skin. The tightness of the trousers' waist was keeping secrets of the landscape beneath, teasingly hugging him a little lower. His long toned legs looked sinful, disappearing under the flare at the bottom – an invitation to guess how good they looked down there. You can imagine, but you can't see. You can look, but you can't touch.

His lips were slightly wet and parted – a perfect mixture of lush and lust. There was a little glimpse of his flawlessly white teeth; he was like a predator showing off his deadly weapons to his prey. The dewy skin of his neck was a forbidden fruit – if you bite it, you would fall from the high of heaven to the heat of hell, so hard that your head wouldn't stop spinning. His fingers were long and mesmerizing – a wolf in sheep's clothing that would break you apart faster than it would take for your racing heart to beat once more. The most expensive vintage rings were wrapped around those fingers, just like many people that he didn't even care to know. The worth of diamonds and opals bowed down to his. He was the incredible jewel, not them.

The neon lights of the night club's entrance fell onto his face, highlighting his bone structure in the best possible way. Bright, flashing, blasting – it was all or nothing, black and white, dark and bright. Just like he himself, it was a rollercoaster of people's break ups and make-ups, and that's why he sometimes liked going there. But never without friends, because he could easily drown in the sea of bodies and something less hot but much more unwinding.

Walking through the crowd was like walking through Sodom and Gomorrah. There was so much filth that it wasn't surprising that STDs were the plague of the contemporary. In the end, people here were investing in stocks rather than in their manners. Step by step, carefully maneuvering his body between those drunk and grinding, he reached the second floor. It was darker here, less intense but more intimate, which suggested that the intensity was happening behind the toned glass of the most expensive VIP booths.

His friends were of a different kind than those people downstairs. Yes, they had flaws and a lot of them, but they were still caring people. That's why he found himself here, in the nightclub they day after he thought that putting himself together was like trying to win a race against Husain Bolt. Text after text, FaceTime after FaceTime, and there he was – walking to his friends, giving them a smile and a small wave.

His best friend was ecstatic to see him. He was just like a puppy with his bright eyes and "waggling tail" – moving around the seat, pushing other people a little away so Harry could sit beside him.

"Glad you came," said Jessy. He half-hugged Harry and then lured him into the conversation with everyone else.

They all were shouting to over talk the music, which was one of the first times when Harry had actively used his vocal cords in weeks. It wasn't the best decision, and his throat will probably be sore tomorrow. But tomorrow will be a different day, and tonight it was all about getting together – both himself and with his friends.

The drinks were pouring almost as fast as words, and time was flowing like a spring from the mountains. Harry's laughs went from quiet to loud and from fake to sincere in less than an hour and five or six shots. Jessy was carefully eyeing him, giving him side glares from time to time, which Harry was professionally ignoring. He let himself be and wanted for Jessy to do the same.

His blood was filling with a foreign liquid, and so was his bladder, so he excused himself and got up to head downstairs to the restrooms. He wasn't as wobbly as he thought he might be – a pleasant bonus to his tall frame.

Walking down the stairs was definitely harder than walking up those exact stairs a couple of hours earlier. He was far from sober, and so were other people at this hour. The dance floor was a misty mess. People were all over each other, spilling drinks and lies in an attempt to have a fun night with another body. Late nights in night clubs were always inhumane. There was no such thing as a human being. There were only curves and muscles, on which, to be fair, most of these people's personalities were built on anyway.

The bathroom didn't have any aggressive speakers, but the buzzing in Harry's ears was so loud that he wouldn't be able to hear the sound of running water even if he tried really hard to do so. His vision wasn't blurry but his eyes were pulsating, so he ran his wet hands across his face, stopping for a couple of seconds on his eyes, providing some coolness for them to rest.

When he walked out of the bathroom, his gaze went wandering around the club for a bit before stopping on the bar right next to him. Without much thinking, he made his way there and leaned against the dark wooden surface, waiting for the bartender to get to him.

"You look like someone who would have a surprising choice when it comes to ordering a drink," a voice emerged, spiking his attention up.

However, it wasn't the bartender. It was a guy on the right to Harry, trying to make his smile friendly but failing to fool Harry. Even if his smile was light, his eyes were hungry. Not alarmingly hungry, but still with a clear interest in them.

His thick caramel curls were freshly cut and perfectly styled with an intentional strand positioned slightly away from the rest of the curls, hanging over the guy's forehead. His jaw was sculpted, with a slight shadow on it. He was wearing a diamond stud in his left ear and a turtleneck under his suit. He looked good.

Harry's eyes lingered on the guy's appearance for a bit too long, so he was slightly late to reply when the bartender asked him what he wanted.

"Just like I said. It's quite unusual to see a guy order a cosmopolitan," the guy smiled at him, clearly proud that he guessed right.

Their conversation went from cheerful chatting to seductive whispering when both of them have gone through a couple more cocktails, each time choosing something stronger. Harry couldn't quite tell when they moved to the dance floor, impossibly close to one another, not even trying to hide the mutual desire. Soon, Harry had to send a text to Jessy before leaving the nightclub to get into the car accompanied by the curly guy.

Kisses went down, closes went off, all of the lights went out and then there was the kickoff.

When Harry woke up to an empty bed, he wanted the faint residue of the guy's cologne to wear off as soon as possible. He also wanted the residue of his feelings to wear off, so he didn't feel like a betrayer when trying to piece himself together, even not in the most mature ways. As the dusk was making the final touches to the city to get it ready for the night, the scent was gone but everything else was still present. Or almost everything, because there should have been something else.

And there's no one to blame but the drinks and my wandering hands