Gay bar

Aiden’s POV

The city felt like it was pressing in on me tonight, every streetlight too bright, every shadow too deep.

 My head was a storm, replaying what happened in the bathroom with Jordan like a broken record, the hollow ache in my chest that had been growing for two weeks. 

I thought I had successfully recovered from it all but when I saw Jordan in the bathroom today, everything just came back like someone ripped off the bandage on my wound.

I don’t blame Jordan, for some reason I am not angry at him however I am disappointed at him. 

But then I feel sorry for him too, for how long has he been holding his feelings? Is it as long as I’ve been holding mine for Orlando? 

If you look closely we see in the same boat but we are different. I’d never behave like that with Orlando’s stuff because I respect him.

I couldn’t lie still in the apartment anymore, so I pulled on my hoodie, shoved my hands in my pockets, and slipped out just after 2 a.m., hoping the cold would at least drown out the noise inside my skull.

I took the long way, cutting through the industrial edge of town where the half-built towers stood like dark ribs under plastic sheeting. 

The construction site on 14th had been roaring all day for months, but at this hour it was mostly quiet, just the low drone of a generator.

I must have been so busy thinking about everything that I didn’t hear the footsteps following me behind.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

‘Ignore it, Aiden.’ I told myself, ‘Act like you don’t hear them.’

“Where you goin’ so fast?” another voice called, closer now. “Don’t be shy.”

I risked a glance over my shoulder. Three of them, maybe four, hard hats off, their work shirts open at the collar, beers dangling from their fingers.

 They weren’t running, but they were spreading out, closing the distance in a subtle manner.

“Nice ass,” the tallest one said, loud enough that it bounced off the scaffolding. “Bet you work out. Turn around, let us see your pretty little face.”

Heat rushed into my face, anger, humiliation, fear knotting together until I couldn’t tell them apart. 

I walked faster, half running and half walking.

“Aw, come on,” another laughed. “We just wanna talk. Maybe buy you a drink. You look like you need one badly.”

Their words made my skin crawl. 

My pulse hammered in my throat. 

I broke into a jog, trying to get as far away from them as possible. 

I turned left at the first corner I saw. 

A neon sign flickered ahead, red and blue, buzzing like a dying insect. 

I shoved through without thinking, all I wanted to do was get out of the situation.

 The bell jangled above me.

 Warm air hit my face, thick with cigarette smoke, cologne, and the thump of bass-heavy music.

 I stood there blinking, chest heaving, trying to make sense of the room.

Rainbow flags hung above the bar. 

Men leaned close to each other at tables, hands on shoulders, lips brushing ears. 

A couple danced slowly near the back, bodies pressed together in the dim purple light. 

Heads turned toward me, some looked curious.

I realized too late what kind of bar this was.

My first instinct was to turn and bolt back into the street, but the memory of those boots crunching behind me stopped me cold. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to bolt out of here because it’s a gay bar, I want to bolt out of here because the people in here know who they are and they’ve accepted it.

I have been told countless times that I was a freak, I deserve everything that’s happened to me so it makes me hate who I was. 

I couldn’t go back out there, not yet.

I edged toward the bar, keeping my head down, trying to look like I belonged. 

The bartender, a guy in his thirties with a neat beard and a black tank top lifted his chin at me.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?”

I opened my mouth, closed it. “Uh… just water. Please.”

He smirked, but poured it anyway and slid the glass across. “Rough night?”

I just nodded, I don’t know what to say plus I don't want to talk.

Someone bumped my elbow, another guy, younger, dark hair, easy smile. “Hey. First time here?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Just… passing through.”

He laughed softly. “Sure you are.” Then he leaned in, voice dropping. “You look like you could use something stronger, who comes to a bar to drink water?”

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

But he was already signaling the bartender. “Put it on my tab. Something easy for him. Sex on the Beach, maybe. He looks like he needs to loosen up.”

I started to protest, but the drink appeared in front of me almost instantly, bright orange and pink, a little umbrella stabbed through a slice of orange. The guy nudged it toward me.

“One sip. Promise it won’t kill you.”

I stared at it.

 My hands were still shaking from the run, from the voices on the street, from the way every set of eyes in here seemed to be staring at me. 

I just wanted to disappear for a minute.

Maybe if I take a sip he’ll leave me alone.

I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip.

 The first taste was sweet. I swallowed, grimaced, and set it down.

I stared at him, expecting him to leave now that I’ve taken a sip but instead of leaving, he dragged a stool and sat down.

“Hey,” I said, my voice came out wrong.

The dark-haired guy was still smiling, but it looked different now. 

My clear vision became blurry, the room was spinning. I tried to stand but the black haired pinned me down.

“Easy, man. Just relax.”

My knees buckled, I grabbed the edge of the bar, but my fingers wouldn’t close right.

 The glass tipped, spilled bright liquid across the table.

Someone caught my arm, maybe the bartender, maybe someone else. Voices overlapped, they sounded muffled and distant.

“Shit, he’s going down….” I heard someone yell.

“Get him to the back…..”

I tried to push away, but my body wasn’t listening anymore

. 

The floor rushed up to meet me, and then everything went black.