Chapter Text
The music was loud, the lights flashing, the club overcrowded as a Friday night. Everything was hot and sticky, and, of course, Matt and his boyfriend – fiancé – Arend, were nowhere to be seen. Jesse was a little drunk, too many overpriced cocktails, and the dance floor seemed incredibly wide now he was trying to navigate through it.
Through the buzzing of alcohol, he was starting to regret coming here tonight. He was not a party person, he could tolerate bars, but nightclubs… gay nightclubs… it was too much for him. But he hadn’t seen his college friends in an eternity, and they had insisted again and again for him to drop by and celebrate their engagement around a drink. So, he had finally took the train to Amsterdam for the weekend.
They were ecstatic of his surprise visit, showing him their brand-new apartment, and the rings, and he was truly happy for them, they deserved this, more than anyone else. After years of friendship, of pining for each other, of clumsy flirting, they had finally started dating. And now they were getting married, time was flying so fast, that was a heart-warming love story. Almost like Jolein and him... before the divorce.
Sadness overflew him and he bit his lips. It had been six months already, but it was way too soon, too fresh. They had been in each other life basically for ever, they had always been in love, they had done everything together, childish hang outs, dates, proms, their first time, and they had kept dating through college, marrying as soon as he graduated and started politics.
He had discovered the world, learned how to be an adult, a good man, with her, thanks to her, and no doubt he would be another person if they had never met. They had shared so much happiness, so many projects, dreamt of a bright future with a big house, two or three kids, maybe he would even have led a political party with her at his side or something.
But by loving and committing this young, too young, they hadn’t got the time to try other things, to explore other possibilities; they were so sure they were soulmates, meant to be, that they had never looked back, never took a break. And they had been wrong, very wrong. He couldn’t erase the vivid memories of Jolein crying, confessing after months of struggles, after years of marriage, that she thought she was gay, that she couldn’t do it anymore, that what they had was not enough to ease the feeling of being an impostor, of missing her true life out, of not being herself.
It had hurt so much, but she was and would always be his best friend, and he was thankful she trusted him enough to tell him this, to know he would let her go. It had shattered his heart, but it was the right decision to make and he had signed the divorce paper with no resistance. Then they had parted away, she had a new partner now, Janna, and the joy flickering in her eyes when she talked about her was almost enough to comfort him.
But right now? He was 26, alone, starting everything over, not sure how to live without his other half. He had a whole new future to build, a blank canvas to paint, he had to reinvent himself, to learn all these things people his age already knew. It was overwhelming, exhausting. But promising in its own way.
He sat at the bar with a sigh, trying to banish the sadness, to focus on the good news for once. A drink or two could probably help. The bitter taste of alcohol burnt his throat as he was scanning crowd, looking for the familiar silhouettes of Matt and Arend among the people dancing, but he recognized no one. Another cocktail then.
He was feeling a little lightheaded, adventurous, he was far from home, he could just forget this night once back to The Hague on Sunday. He could use a little fun while waiting for his friends to reappear.
The music was loud, the lights flashing, he was moving experimentally, the last two glasses had lowered his inhibitions, and he didn’t care if he was ridiculous. He had closed his eyes, enjoying the numbness, the void in his mind, time was buzzing and distorting as he was swallowed by the bodies around him. It was not that bad of an evening after all.
He didn’t even notice the hand on his upper arm at first, everything was hot and close, but he finally met an interested gaze and a soft smile. “Wanna dance?” He couldn’t truly hear him, but his lips moving were captivating, and he nodded, he really wanted to dance. The man was beautiful, he wasn’t even ashamed to admit it, a little shorter than him, dark hair, his low-cut t-shirt offering a mesmerising view on his collarbones, and dear god he felt good against him.
He lost track of how many songs went by, the fingers in his curls and the rolling hips putting him into trance, and he was mirroring the attention, keeping him close, retracing tentatively the curve of his lower back with his thumb, under the soft t-shirt material.
Through the fog of alcohol, he suddenly realised that he was 26 and had never kissed a stranger in a club, never kissed another man, and that was a pity. It was time for novelty and his hands were tingling as he caressed the back of his neck, pulling him slowly until their lips met, brushing chastely. He could feel the amused smile against him, the hot breathing, and then their mouths were crashing together, the kiss was passionate, deep, shattering.
Never in his whole life had he... wow... Impossible to have any coherent thoughts, only the blazing sensations and the pulsing beat of the music. It was perfect. They parted away for an instant, panting, desperate for some oxygen, and he was not the only one to seem staggered. Then they were making out again, in another kind of dance.
Maybe he was gay too after all, and he laughed at the irony of this idea, this situation, a muffled sound in their burning embrace, an elusive thought already forgotten as hands were running down his sides, under his shirt, and he was shivering.
“What about getting out of here?” A whisper to his ear, promising, almost a slur so it was lewd. And they were outside, the cold air not enough to bring them back to reality, laughing and touching and trying to navigate the crowded streets through the alcohol and the desire.
The canals were beautiful, but it was nothing compared to him, everything was blurry but him, he was the lights reflecting on the water, he was the stars in the sky, he was the moon illuminating their path, he was the whole world.
They kissed on a deserted bridge, the night wrapping them in its arms, and the moment lasted forever. They were desperate for each other, he would have followed him anywhere, just for more of his incredibly soft skin, of his deliciously curved lips, of his passionate hands.
It was awakening, surreal, transcendental, the sheets were cool and his body so hot, and everything was so fast, everything was in slow motion. He hoped he would remember it, remember this, remember him as they were collapsing, as they cried in pleasure, as the bliss took them, as they were one. It felt like falling in love, it felt like dying. Passing out from exhaustion on the unmade bed, entangled, they didn’t even know each other names.