Take me home tonight

[Alejandro Riviera]

Everything was unraveling and Alejo felt powerless to stop it. Things fell apart with Judah. Judah who was the best thing to have happened to him in... ever. He put everything he had into that relationship, he really did. He tried to be perfect for Judah. Anything Judah wanted, Alejo was there to hand to him. Every time Judah needed to be picked up, Alejo's hand was there.

His perfection wasn't enough for Judah, to capture Judah's love, so he came to the realization--true or not--that he wasn't enough for anyone. Alejo at his best was barely hanging on to some other guy at his worst. What did that say about him? About his own worth? That he couldn't compete with a man who was half-way across the country from Judah? He didn't doubt that Judah loved him but he knew when he was coming out on the losing end of things.

Breaking up was hard every time but this time something really broke inside of him. He was dressed like a whore. He had six drinks, came here with no protection, danced with anyone who put a hand on him. Jack. Jack showing up made him genuinely happy. Jack pulling him aside to warn him, with all the good intentions in the world, worried him. It brought him back down to earth and he didn't want to come back down. He wanted to float high, high above his feelings of insecurity and worthlessness.

But. Jack was leaving. Pulling away. Leaving him here to his own devices.

Alejo's breath stuttered in his chest for a moment. Something ugly welled up inside. Something... nasty. Dark. Blacker than black. "Jackie... don't..." He grasped on to Jack's hand, desperate. Ugly. "Don't. No no no don't go you can't go you can't you can't." Was that the alcohol? Was that him? The two were sort of mixing together to create the monster that he always knew he was. Monstrous. Ugly. Unloved and unworthy of love.

His perfect wasn't even good enough.

"Jackie... please... I thought you understood..."

[Jack Ripley]

Hey, he was just here for a good time. To scratch an itch. He hadn't come here to be insulted by some kid who thought he was an old man. God, was he that old now? He didn't feel that old. Not old enough to be somebody's father.

Anyway, he had come for a good time, all right? That was the point of coming out to a night club. At least, it was the point now. No more looking for an excuse to be... that person he used to be. But he ran into Allie instead and Allie... Whatever transpired within the past week, it wasn't a good look on the kid. Maybe he was getting old, to be telling him to be careful. Kinda laughable, given the kind of things Jack had hiding in his closet.

His exit was blocked by Allie himself, as he latched onto Jack and not in the cuddly koala way this time. Jack looked down at Allie and he didn't know what to think. What happened? Was... this Jack's doing? Did talking about their mutual feeling of nothingness break something inside Allie? Jack's free hand stroked the side of Allie's face.

Understood what...? While Jack was busy feeling less like nothing, it seemed as if Allie was busy feeling more like nothing. (As much of an oxymoron as that sounded.) Jack once understood, though. That hollow feeling of being worthless and nothing to everybody. Jack didn't necessarily want to be another person looking through Allie. With a sigh, he dropped his hand from Allie's face.

"Come on, sweetie," he slid an arm around Allie's shoulders to steer him from their corner and toward the door. "Let's get you out of here."

[Alejandro Riviera]

A good time... That was what Alejo came for, too. He came to forget because after a week of remembering--God, every single moment he lived out with Judah seemed to all rush back--he was going crazy. Crazy with loss, crazy with grief, crazy from missing Judah already. It would have been easier to fall out of love, he thought, than to go through this. Whatever this was.

An existential crisis.

The Alejo that Jack was seeing now was but a fraction of how bad he used to be before he met Judah and settled down. That Alejo thought nothing of drinking until he passed out, of dancing the nights away and sleeping the days away in a still-drunk stupor. He said stupid shit, insulted people, got into fights, got into more trouble than he could remember. That was a whole other lifetime that he lived before he found what he thought was salvation.

Now, Judah was gone. And Alejo was back to that mouthy asshole who pushed people away--people who cared for him. Like Jack. If Jack didn't care even a little, he wouldn't have come over. Drunk as he was, Alejo understood that. He stood there dejected until Jack touched his face and he clung to Jack's hand like a lifeline. He thought Jack understood how that madness inside could drive him to this state. Maybe he did, because he was sliding an arm around him, trying to get him to go quietly into that good night.

"...okay." Alejo still clung to him though, arms around his waist, as he let himself be led away from the spectacle he'd been making of himself earlier. In the moment it felt good but seeing Jack's rejection threw a bucket of cold water over him. He looked down at himself as they walked, the shine of his leather pants painted on, the sheerness of his top, and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to Jack, feeling that sickness rising inside, rising up to his eyes, a molten heat in the backs of them. "Please... take me home with you tonight."

[Jack Ripley]

Say goodbye to a good time. Jack's night was going in a completely different direction than he had imagined. He only had two drinks! He was buzzed, but he wasn't nearly as drunk as he hoped to be. As he passed the bar and the lovely Marge, he didn't even bother asking for his card back. There was still that thought in the back of his mind that he'd be back. Even if it was just to chat with the bartender, because he could use somebody to talk to about everything he couldn't seem to talk about with anybody else.

He wanted to leave his number with her at least but... Well, she had his full name on the card. She could google him or something.

Out in the cold of the night, Jack let out a long breath, feeling as if he'd been holding it inside. What was happening to him? All of this was... He didn't normally do this kind of thing. It wasn't as if Allie was his problem but he somehow felt responsible for his current state. Nothing, the word echoed in his mind. He was looking at it now, stark and naked. It was almost terrifying to really look at head-on.

"What happened?" he asked, as they stood at the stop light, waiting for it to turn green, much like the last time they stood on this very corner together. "Talk to me, Allie."

[Alejandro Riviera]

"Shit fuck!" Alejo swore as the cold night air hit him square in the face and upper body, unprotected by the whorish outfit he had chosen for himself that night. Honestly he should have dropped dead from embarrassment and if it hadn't been so damn cold, he would have ripped off the sheer material and ground it under his foot.

He wanted to be better than this. Really, he did. Six drinks in, not so much, but a slap to the face and some frigid night air later, he was regaining sanity. Alejo walked close to Jack like he wanted to be his shadow, and when they stopped at the light he full-on hugged him, shivering against him. "Shit happened," he said--slurred--into jack's warm chest.

Hadn't they done this before? Like... a week ago? The feeling of deja vu hit him hard. He reached up to touch Jack's face, pawed at it for a bit, just to make sure he was solid and there. Yes, he was there. He was real. Alejo sighed with relief and went back to clinging to him like a leech. "Lotsa shit happened Jackie baby. I told my boyfriend I cheated on him. He still wanted to make things work." Here he stopped to laugh, a high, delirious sound of pain. "He's the nicest man I've ever met, did you know that? The NICEST man. And soooo handsome. So handsome. So good. Too good for... trash like me."

Alejo pulled away to look at himself with unfocused eyes. He pointed to the top. "This. Is trashy. Somebody shoulda told me--hic--not to wear this shit."

[Jack Ripley]

"You don't say."

Shit obviously happened or Jack wouldn't have asked about it. The Allie he met a week ago and this Allie were like complete opposites. One had been so sweet and naive, albeit, sad. This one was still sad but there was a new desperation clawing at him. Maybe he had been desperate before but this was something else, a whole new level of desperation. It honestly hurt to look at him and not because of the outfit but because he... he didn't feel so much as nothing as he did right now.

"...Oh." Wow. He. Actually told his boyfriend he cheated on him. And instead of being kicked to the curb, the boyfriend attempted to work things out. Shouldn't that have been a good thing...? Jack wasn't sure he understood what was happening. Allie sounded... lucky, honestly. And it sounded like he knew it now. Regret. Regret was such a nasty thing and poor Allie was swimming in it.

What did he do? Allie didn't say what he did. Just that there was a chance to make things work--but it sounded like it hadn't worked. Did Allie do something? Jack's heart beat faster. Did he... do something drastic? Crazy? The kind of thing Jack might have done?

Jack looked at the shirt as Allie pointed at it and he half smiled. "Well... I definitely would have told you not to but I'm not sure you would have listened." He sounded pretty stubborn earlier about it. Hm. Shit. He forgot his coat back at the club, too. And everything that was in it. Including his keys. He almost laughed aloud at himself for it.

"Uh oh, we're in trouble," he said in a sing-song tone as they crossed the street together. Shit. He left his lock pick kit at Brayden's. Which was good fortune, actually, since he could pick his way into his own apartment. But not so good fortune because... some part of him didn't want to be seen with anybody else in front of Brayden. Which was stupid because they were just friends.

[Alejandro Riviera]

"No, no I would've listened. I would've listened to you Jackie." He muttered that almost as if perplexed, as though he couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't listen to Jack. Jack was classy. Look at him. Even though he was at a nightclub he was the King. Dressed impeccably, clothes tailored to fit just right, he was. Oh. Too good. For trash. Like Alejo.

Something in him died again.

But the alcohol turned him back on and he grinned up at Jack's sing-song voice with a new... light in his eyes. That desperation had given away, finally, to clarity and it freed him. Oh, it was so liberating. So, so liberating and powerful and new. Alejo had never felt this way before. He knew he was drunk, duh, but that new feeling was a league above drunkenness.

"Are we in trouble?" He snuggled close to Jack, a hand slipping low again. Copped a feel. Feeling good. "What kinda trouble Jackie?"

[Jack Ripley]

Oh, he would have now? And what made Jack so different? Hm? He kind of liked it, that hero worship he saw in Allie's eyes. He missed that feeling, of being somebody strong and smart and capable to somebody who didn't know better. People who attached themselves to him in all their loving purity. They... truly didn't deserve to meet Jack, in the end. The real monster in their lives that he told himself he was protecting them from.

But maybe he could still save himself. Maybe he could still save Allie. But... he couldn't. Could he? Allie was beyond being saved. He was so sad and torn up. Helpless and alone. Ripped up by the world. It was too late to save him. Some other monster got to him first. Or it was Jack... Jack who opened him up to the nothingness, who shone the mirror in his face. Fuck, he felt so responsible for him now that it made him sick.

Gently, he stroked the back of Allie's head, as an apology.

"Not any kind of trouble I can't fix." He kissed Allie on the temple. Slid his hand into Allie's.

The Sunrise apartments were never very far from the downtown center of Hazleton--partly why he'd chosen the location. It was fairly late out by the time Jack opened up the community gate into the courtyard. No Brayden on the bench this time... partially a relief. With another brief kiss, he patted Allie on the bum.

"You know where I live, just wait for me there, all right? I have to get something."

He didn't let go of Allie until he had at least steadied him by a nearby bench. Then he sucked in a deep, deep breath and forced himself to march over to the familiar apartment across the courtyard from his. He knocked a few times, not even sure if Brayden would even be awake.

"B? Are you awake in there? I left something at your place and I kinda... need it now."

[Alejandro Riviera]

Oh Jack. Jackie. He was like every man that Alejo attached himself to, too good and too kind for someone like him. Jack's hand in his brought on a fresh wave of emotion, swirling into the muddy pool of self-loathing and doubt that had been steadily accumulating throughout his life. He held on and swung their hands a little, though, recalling a time when he would do this with his mother as they walked home from church, Alejo chattering ceaselessly about what he learned in Sunday school.

Where did it all go wrong?

His mother called him sick. Said there was a devil inside him. She was right. Alejo was a devil, and Jack himself even said that last time, didn't he? Alejo glanced over with unadulterated admiration as Jack promised to fix things. Yes... Jack could fix this. This and... so much more. "My hero," he laughed softly, but also truthfully. Jack was a hero and Alejo was the anonymous citizen who needed his help. Superheroes didn't get together with regular people, though. That wasn't how comic books worked and it wasn't how life worked, either.

Alejo was cheerful on that new high--that enlightened state of understanding--as they entered the familiar courtyard. "Okay, okay. I know. It's that one." He pointed to one that looked about right. 1...G? The apartment was somewhere near that area and anyway Jack would lead him inside, so he wasn't worried. Alejo hung around near the bench because he tried to walk towards the unit and kind of stumbled, so he decided nah. Not worth it to go by himself.

He watched Jack walking to another unit across the way and knocking on the door. Hm? Who was Jack going to see? After a moment, the light inside turned on and a sleepy-looking brown-haired man emerged, rubbing his eyes.

"Jack? You're back." The man didn't even notice Alejo; his gaze was fixed on Jack, a half-bemused smile on his face. "What--oh, you forgot something. Come in, come in." Alejo looked away when he saw that smile evolve into something much warmer, as B's gaze softened. Ah. So gentle. So gentle, that man. No edges, nothing sharp about him. Gentle and sweet.

[Jack Ripley]

Hero. He heard that. Allie calling him his hero. It was probably meant as a joke but it made Jack feel like he had a lot more left to do with him. Hero. For once in his life, he was really starting to believe he could be the hero. Before, he thought so but then it was skewed, especially after he started on medication that was meant to stabilize his mood. He dropped those after a few months, though. They made him feel like a zombie. Which was preferable? Some days, it was harder to say than others.

For a long moment, Jack stood before Brayden's door and he thought he had made a mistake. They could just find a way back to Allie's hotel room instead. Jack could clear thing sup later, in the morning. Stop by the night club, talk to the bartender, get more information on her for any... future mishaps.

He still couldn't believe that after laughing at poor Brayden, Jack had gone and done the exact same thing.

As Brayden let him inside, Jack's smile was a touch shameful. Just a touch.

"So... I forgot my coat and everything in it back at the club," he said. He raised his brows slightly to see if Brayden understood already where this was going. Instead of filling in the blanks for him--Brayden no doubt was already doing enough of that for the both of them, Jack added, "I left my lock pick set here and I need it to get into my apartment."

[Brayden Smith]

Bray went to bed at his normal time since Jack had gone out and by himself, he was a routinely boring person. After dinner, he wandered around a little bit tidying up and then sat down at his laptop to write a few chapters of his book. It wasn't really... amazing. The plot was generic and the characters had strong resemblances to himself and the people around him, so obviously he wasn't showing it to anyone.

Just a hobby. Just... something to pass the time. And in his story, unlike in real life, Bray could be the hero.

So he did that for a bit and every once in a while glanced up through his open window. Why? No reason. Just... seeing if the light in the window on the other end of the courtyard was on. (It wasn't.) Feeling foolish, Bray then climbed into bed and again he saw that twinkling winking star, and again he rebuffed it. No, sir. Bray was not easily tempted to stray.

He woke up to Jack knocking and being a light sleeper normally, of course he heard it. And of course he leapt up out of bed and scampered to the door, heart beating rapidly for no good reason. After Jack came inside, though, to explain the reason for his visit, Bray kind of stared at him. Jack... locked himself out. And he needed his lockpicks to get back in.

"...you..." That was as far as he got before he burst into laughter. Bray clutched his stomach, then tried to cover his mouth to stop the peals of merriment. Oh, now the shoe was on the other foot! Now it was Jack's turn! "Oh--I'm sorry," he gasped, leaning against Jack for support, stomach aching. "Sorry it's not--hahaha--not funny. Not funny."

God, it was so funny!

Bray straightened and wiped his eyes. "H-here. I put it here." He went to his bookshelf and plucked it off, then handed it to Jack--but not before another burst of laughter came out.

[Jack Ripley]

After explaining himself, Jack waited imperiously for some kind of response. He stood as a king might, tall and mighty and unworthy of such silly mistakes... the kind that Brayden would make. Yet here he was, without keys and resorting to getting his lock pick set back. Luckily for him, he had left it with Brayden. Not on purpose, of course. It just sort of happened but--oh, how serendipitous it all was!

"You are such a poor liar," Jack said dryly. Although it was difficult not to crack even the slightest smile when Brayden began to laugh. When he was well and genuinely amused by something, it was like looking into the face of an angel. Brayden had the sweetest smile and the most dulcet laugh... and god fucking damn it... when did he catch such severe feelings for somebody meant to be a friend?

Ahem.

"Hah-hah, very funny. Now we're the same, how do you like that?"

All that laughter was deserved, though. After Jack laughed in Brayden's face for doing the same thing, he hardly had room to play Mr. High and Mighty. Stiffly, he reached for the smooth black case and flipped it open to see that everything was where it had been when he left it with Brayden. Not that he expected Brayden to do anything to it. If anything, he would protect it with his life, probably, because it was Jack's. Because it was a friend's. Somebody he cared about.

"Did you try using them yourself?" he asked, knowing he shouldn't be drawing out this moment with him... together. But also... every time he spent time with Brayden, he was loathe to leave him again. He let the small box close with a smart little click.

[Brayden Smith]

Poor Jack, he didn't deserve to be laughed at... for this long. He did deserve to be laughed at for sure but Bray eventually started feeling kind of bad and got himself under control. "I think that's a step up for me," he said of Jack's dry comment about them being on equal footing. Bray didn't think so--one look at them and anyone could tell who the real King was. Even when he did something so childish and silly as forget his coat and keys at the club, he held himself with regal bearing.

Meanwhile, Bray went all to pieces under the same circumstances! So they were definitely not on the same level.

It amused him to see Jack checking the case but of course it was intact. Everything was there, not a single tool missing. Bray did guard it carefully when he found it, and he wondered when Jack would be back for it. It was kind of funny how neither of them were in a hurry to return it to its original owner, as though both of them perhaps wanted an excuse to stop by again.

Ahem. Not that Bray looked for excuses. He already had them in plenty--no need to search around. That was what he did in his spare time, like the sneaky (not really) person he was.

"Ah. No, I didn't want to break anything." He leaned closer to see if something was bent or missing but by then Jack had closed the lid already. That just left Bray leaning in, looking at the glossy box top. Then looking up at Jack and smiling that one silly little smile he couldn't wipe from his face when they were alone together. "Did you have a good time at the club, Jack?"

He knew Jack probably wanted to get back to his own place and they did just spend Friday night together, but... he still wanted Jack to stay for just a little bit longer. Was that bad? Was it wrong?

[Jack Ripley]

While Jack didn't argue, he did make an expression that said enough--Brayden was a step up? At least Jack had a spare lock pick kit! (Never mind that he would have been stuck outside for the night if he didn't leave it with Brayden.) Which would have been fine. If he didn't have some extra baggage to deal with.

Swallowing hard, he held the small box against chest and turned his head toward Brayden. Standing too close. He could have kissed him, the way Brayden was looking up at him, smiling in that way he seemed to have reserved for Jack. His eyes always seemed to smile, too, when he looked at him. Jack wondered if his did the same when he looked at Brayden.

Jack cleared his throat and turned his gaze away from Brayden.

"Actually, no." If anything, he was seeing the stretch of another weekend without a way to scratch that itch deep inside. Talk about blue balls. He wondered if Marge the bartender knew she directed at him just the wrong person for the evening. Sigh. But if he hadn't seen Allie, who knew what would have happened to him? Jack knew what kind of people lurked out there.

"I only had a couple drinks before I ran into somebody who definitely... had no business being there, in the state he was..." Jack wasn't sure why he felt he was the patron saint of these sad boys. Maybe he was still trying to save the past Jack. Past Jack would have longed for somebody to rescue him from a life heading in the direction Allie had been heading into at the club. And Jack... ah well. He couldn't leave him that way, in the end.

"I should get going," he said, though he didn't immediately move away from Brayden. He liked it too much when they were standing close together, as friends or not. As he was wont to do, he brushed the tip of Brayden's nose with his fingertip. He didn't know why he liked that so much. He just... did. His lips curved into a little smile.

"You should get back to sleep."

With some reluctance, he moved away for the door, heart so heavy. Now for Allie...

[Brayden Smith]

What? What was that look for? Bray spoke the truth. Being compared to Jack was one step up for him--but probably a step down for Jack, for them to be considered on equal footing. Well, Bray knew he couldn't compare to someone like Jack and even being mentioned in the same sentence with him was a distinct compliment. He thought Jack didn't see it that way--probably that was the cause for the Look.

Or, heck, he was just... being playful. Jack could be playful as a puppy, like when he threw popcorn at Bray during a critical moment in their card game, or bringing him that little alcoholic chocolate. it sat on the windowsill of his bedroom in its own special spot, where he could see it before he went to sleep and right when he woke up, to remind him that someone was thinking of him. That someone cared.

Someone cared. And he was right there looking down at Bray. Not looking through him but at him, with that soft glimmer in his eyes. That was the look that made Bray want to kiss him. That tender look, the one which had no place in the eyes of a friend. And Bray knew Jack, in his drunken state, had wanted to be with him but he didn't know if sober Jack wanted the same thing. Jack didn't really make advances towards him. Their interactions were painfully wholesome--or as wholesome as they could be for two grown men (one of whom was a Brayden Smith).

"Ah. I'm sorry. But it's good of you to help a friend." He laid a hand on Jack's arm not because the moment called for it but because he wanted to touch him. Hold on to him, if briefly. Bray was learning something important about greed. The more one had, the more one wanted. Before he would have been ecstatic to be considered a friend. Now... he wanted more. He wanted so much more...

"Heh. You." Bray couldn't even find it in him to tell Jack not to do that to his nose. He liked it. Another little point of contact, another playful gesture. But it didn't mean anything, did it? He couldn't tell. Bray's hand on his arm tightened ever so slightly and then he let go as Jack moved away, letting out a soft breath and a soft laugh. "Oh, right. Sleep. I can finally sleep in tomorrow." He returned Jack's smile, feeling so rueful as he followed him to the door. Bray didn't have to--he wanted to.

"Good night, Jack."

As Bray peered outside, he saw a figure huddled on the bench near Jack's unit. For a second he thought it was a vagrant, until the figure waved an arm and called softly, almost plaintively, out to Jack--Jackie. Bray shut the door slowly and quietly. That tone... he felt as if he knew it all too well.