A/N: So i haven't done this in a while. My writing isn't great but I've been working on this idea for a while now and I hope you enjoy it.

The sound system sucked. The drinks were shit. Overall, Miles did not want to be here. He didn't want to spend his twentieth birthday in some trashy strip club. And not only trashy in the sense that there were naked people everywhere. He didn't hugely mind that. But it was low class in every sense of the term. And his friends were being idiots. They'd chosen this joint in particular because there were both female and male strippers. The club was a mainly queer attraction. And they were acting like "that" group of straight people who go to the gay club and make inappropriate jokes all night and flirt with people of the same sex for their own entertainment. Only, Miles wasn't the only queer in their group ashamed of the others' actions. Shanae and Chelsea who sat on either side of him had been expressing their disgust just moments ago. Now they were ogling over who was, apparently, the most beautiful woman either of them had ever seen. Miles could hardly agree. At least they, along with his male friends, were done pressuring him to get a lap dance. He just wanted to get drunk off this gross pink... whatever this was and get a cab home. They obviously didn't know Miles well enough after these few months at uni to know the apple to his tree hadn't fallen far. He despised his politician father and wasn't close at all with the rest of his posh family. But Miles was a high class bitch and proud.

He sipped his drink, tuning out the girls. His eyes wandered around the room. 'Maybe a lap dance wouldn't be so bad...', the alcohol convinced him. Miles looked over each beautiful body that passed him, trying not to let his gaze linger on the males. Though he wasn't the only queer one here, he wasn't exactly out. Not that he was ashamed... He just...never had a good enough reason to tell people. Yeah. That was it.

After a few minutes, Miles gave up on his stripper search. He had no great desire for the girls here. And waving down a male for a dance didn't exactly make for an ideal coming out. He tuned back in briefly when Shanae offered him the rest of her drink. He accepted and tuned back out, focusing now on some of the half naked dancers who were stationed on platforms around the club. He looked to them for entertainment but found himself judging them one by one in his head. 'Boring. Too outrageous of an outfit. Plain untalented. Is that one drunk?' Miles rolled his eyes, watching one of the dancers stumble in place and wave their arms above their head. 'Classssy club is classy' he thought. He looked to the next dancer and it was then his eyes landed on one tall, dark haired male. Two very attractive qualities on their own, but still he had this...unconventional beauty about him. Not muscly. But not stick thin either. He was pale and had these subtle curves that managed to make him stand out from the rest. Though he was one of the few dancers with a pole, he didn't make much use of it. But the way he moved his body alone had a barely tipsy Miles mesmerized. The dancer didn't make eye contact with anyone in the crowd, something even the intoxicated dancers went out of their way to do; along with over the top winks and flirtatious smiles- no doubt a tip given to them by whatever dipshit ran this place. Yet none of them managed to grasp his attention like this one did. He looked as if in a daze. Like he could have been dancing carelessly at home alone with headphones on. But he looked so. fucking. good. The beaut turned his back to the crowd, grinding on the pole now. Whenever Miles expected- or hoped, rather - for him to turn around, he didn't. Miles watched and watched and he would watch as long as he had to if he could just get another glimpse of the male's face. In the meantime, he admired that perfectly round tush accented by a glittery article of purple spandex. If that one was making rounds to give lap dances, Miles decided, he'd be worth a spontaneous coming out.

But it wasn't his body Miles was so anxious to see up close. It was his face. There was this sense of mystery the dancer held that, in Miles' increasingly intoxicated mind, would only be revealed in the details of his face. Just as the Mystery turned back around, the lights went low. The main show they'd apparently all been waiting for (or at least that's what the poorly dressed drag queen on stage believed) was about to begin. Miles watched the dancer step down from his platform and disappear into the dark somewhere. His friends all stood up and cheered for the decently hot woman being introduced. He stood only when Chelsea grabbed his arm and shook it persistently. He took her drink from the table now as barter. And his mood only shot down from there. Somehow, the thought that the odds of ever seeing that boy again were slim to none depressed him like no other. A go-go boy, he told himself. A somehow classier version of a stripper. What a joke. Everyone and everything here was a joke.

"I'm going for a smoke" he announced to no one in particular, not caring if anyone heard, really. He grabbed his jacket and left. For good. He was done with tonight. Done with his stupid friends. Done with his stupid birthday. And he wished he could be done with hiding. He didn't care what people thought of him. Not normally. So why did he insist on keeping this single trait about him a secret when it kept him from enjoying himself? Maybe if everyone knew, he wouldn't feel so alone here. Maybe he wouldn't be wondering day in and day out since he discovered this other part of himself what it'd be like to be with a guy... To kiss them. To touch them. To make them feel pleasure and vice versa. He dreamed about it. Thought about it when he shouldn't. To the point where he was starting to feel ashamed. And feel pathetic for feeling ashamed. Maybe then he wouldn't be drooling over strippers. When had he become so desperate? He lit a cigarette and brought it to his lips, letting his eyes dramatically fall closed as he took that first drag. He soon opened them, wanting to keep an eye out for a taxi. He heard the doors behind him open and shut. One pair of footsteps. They stopped and Miles kept his eyes ahead, not wanting to make awkward eye contact with some strange drag queen who'd stepped out for a smoke.

The steps started again, then became distant. Miles turned his head to look in the direction he'd heard them.

Well fuck... Take that, Odds.

() () ()

"It's the show you've all been waiting for..."

The dancer let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. That was his cue. To step down and out of view of these thirsty eyes. To clock out. To go home. Or as homey as the floor of Tori's dorm room could get. He went to the back with the rest of his bare chested coworkers and anxiously slipped into his clothes. Couldn't a place that employs people to walk around in the nude afford to be generous with the heat? Of course not. Not a place like Supernova. He put on his coat and left the building. He stopped to get a look at his surroundings, a habit he'd gotten into since moving to the big city. The block seemed to be vacant of anyone but him and a smoker standing close to the curb. Feeling safe, or safe enough, he walked away from the club and to the end of the block, stopping at his usual bus post. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, feeling them already start to tingle. New York's winter wasn't any better than Toronto's and the fashionable gloves he had on just weren't made for a night like this. He stared to his left, waiting and waiting for a bus to come into view and save him from the chill. He heard footsteps approaching from his right and picked up on the faint smell of cigarette smoke. There was silence for a bit. Then he heard a deep but sort of nasally voice ask him "know how long till it gets here?"

He turned to see a boy about his age and at almost exact eye level. The Smoker. Normally he'd be wary in a situation like this, but he was too over tonight to worry. Besides, he seemed harmless. Maybe even a little familiar. "Not too long. Maybe fifteen minutes?"

The boy nodded and Tristan looked to his left again, barely noticing him bite his lip from his peripheral. But he could feel his eyes on him.

"Do you go to Taylor?" He decided to avoid an awkward, silent wait.

The boy nodded and his green eyes seemed to gleam beneath the street light. "Yeah... How did you know?"

Tristan shrugged simply. "You seem artistic enough. What are you in for?"

"Dance. And Fine Arts. You?"

"Theatre and Fashion" He nodded then went back to bus watching.

...

"I'm Miles... Hollingsworth"

"Tris..." he nodded, looking at the other boy curiously. "Hollingsworth, eh? Like, mayor of Toronto Hollingsworth?"

Green Eyes' face subtly fell but he tried to shake it with a weak snicker. "That would be my father" He didn't seem proud to say that. Embarrassed more fit his vibe.

"So you're the missing child no one talks about..."

"Not exactly missing... Boarding school"

He raised his brows briefly. "Small world"

"Isn't it?" He asked rhetorically. "...Never in a million years did I think I'd be standing here on a bus stop with the, one and only Tris"

Tristan snorted but had to fight his lips from smiling. "Is that your way of asking my full name?"

"Possibly" Green Eyes said with a playful smirk.

"Tristan" He hesitated before realizing this boy had revealed a lot to him a moment ago. He could literally go home and Google endless information on his family. "Milligan"

He nodded. "So are you from Toronto?"

"Yep. Though I'm flattered you mistook me for a native"

Miles snickered. "I should have known. Accent's so familiar, I overlooked it... Where'd you go to school?"

"Degrassi... With your siblings" He couldn't help but chuckle, the world seeming to get smaller as he thought about it.

"And my childhood best friend" Green Eyes added.

"Shit, who?"

"Winston Chu?"

Tristan sneered. "Oh. Him?"

"Yeah, why?" He raised a furry brow.

"He's an asshole" Tristan said with no fear of the other boy's reaction.

Both his brows were raised now, smiling in amusement.

He went on. "A big asshole. Like, not even the hot jock kind with a reason to think he's better than everyone."

Miles looked up as if considering this then nodded. "Yeah"

Tristan chuckled at his agreeing and it seemed to cause his smile to grow.

There was an icy breeze and Tristan's form stiffened. He took in a shaky breath and exhaled the same, a cloud of chill leaving his mouth. He hated the cold. Why didn't he go to LA, again? He found himself asking this much too often.

"Do you live in the dorms?"

Tristan nodded. "Yeah... Sort of"

Green Eyes nodded, not seeking further explanation. He stepped closer to the curb and within a couple of minutes, he'd hailed a cab. "Come on" he gestured for Tristan to come and opened the car door for him. Without hesitation, the darker haired boy got in the back of the yellow car, Miles sliding in after him. He attempted to give the driver directions but Tristan jumped in, guessing the brunette's mind was being clouded by some form of alcohol. The car began moving and he kept his eyes ahead. Green Eyes spoke up, "I was blindfolded on the way here"

Tristan smiled a smile of pity once he'd put two and two together. He of all people knew Supernova ran very short of being surprise worthy. "I'm guessing you ditched whoever brought you"

Green Eyes nodded.

"I'm also gonna say this wasn't your last night as a free man or whatever..."

"No", he chuckled. "Birthday"

"Ah" My apologies, he planned to say but the words never left his mouth. He didn't know why. It was safe to assume the birthday boy had seen him dancing in there.

"So... What were you doing there?"

...

"You didn't notice me?"

"No"

Lie, Tristan noted casually. "I work there"

"Oh" He nodded simply.

() () ()

The blackness of his hair and the blue in his eyes contrasted violently. His lips were plump and pink and Miles noticed they sparkled every now and then. His cheeks did too. He didnt think to question it. He didn't bother to conclude it was the result of sloppily removed stage makeup. His voice was strong but it held delicacy and the slightest queer lisp. Once they were in the cab and out of the glow of street lights, Miles managed to avert his eyes and sop up his theoretical drool. The moment he approached the stranger on the bus stop, it seemed every drop of alcohol he'd consumed went into working up the courage to open his mouth and speak; leaving him sober as a whistle. He flirted. Or tried to. He'd never spoken to a guy like that before. With intention. And now he sat beside him in the warm vehicle. He defended his sobriety with words that led to other words and he found himself playing dumb, then blatantly lying. It seemed necessary at the time, but Miles hadn't quite worked out the reasons why to himself yet. Maybe he wasn't all that sobered up. But he knew what he wanted, what his goal was.

They shared a few more words before exiting the small space. Miles paid the driver and kept the dancer from contributing any money. Their voices collided. "Thanks for the-come up for a drink?"

A/N: I have nothing to say other than Club Supernova represents how shitty I thought those minis were. Thanks for reading! Reviews are always nice (: