Never mind the fingers of fog creeping onto his path as he tried to forget the nightclub slowly fading into the distance; now there was the stench with which to contend. And it was pungent. It was like shit and sadness rolled in a wrap of regret and degradation. Great city, this. His footsteps were muted, the humidity in the fog sucking up any sound his Chucks would have otherwise made on the brick, all rubber on hard ground, that wonderful slap-slap that only comes with the Hipster gait. Not tonight. Tonight belonged to the elements, which had conspired to disorient him as he tried to remember down which of these oddly sparse and huge streets his hotel lay.
“It’s on your right” was the utterance that came over his left shoulder.
“Wha-” was what he managed through the Vodka/Red Bull haze. It was barely a question. Just another manifestation of his confusion.
He turned around.
One of the most beautiful guys he’d ever seen stood before him. Cascading spikes of black hair, eyes of an indeterminate color that seemed to glow, and damn this dude could dress! A little rocker-rough for his tastes, but James was pleased nonetheless. He’d just spent three hours at a gay bar and not seen one guy that even neared this creature’s crystalline sex appeal.
James stared the guy down, or tried to. He guessed he was about his age, roughly 21, maybe younger, hard to tell with that white make up on his face… or was that his skin? No way.
“Do you like staring at me, James?” the guy dared him.
The rocker demi-god smirked. “Well…” and he reached for James.
James started to back up as the dude’s ropey, muscular arms linked around him. Rocker boi moved in closer, starting at James the whole time, his smile broadening, then puckering. He kissed James, long and deep, for a good half a minute. And while James was too drunk to truly appreciate the experience, he knew something amazing was happening, that the hottest guy he’d ever seen in his life was making out with him, in the fog, in this alley, near that stupid club where he’d just blown $35. Then rocker boi pulled back, and sunk his teeth and strength into James’s neck.
His world spun, molecules became separate and individuated before his eyes, and he saw the elemental makeup of everything around him disassemble. He was being sucked dry, being killed, dying. Finally, he felt his head thwack against the brick. The last words he could muster were “wha…the..fu?”
Rocker boi looked down at him, spat, and said, “I’m Kyle Ryan. In about five minutes, after about four minutes of disorientation and not a little pain, you’ll be dead. Enjoy your last few minutes on earth how you can. And, if you’re wondering, I did this for Josh.”