Note for new readers:
There's a soundtrack that goes along with this fic.
If you're interested, you can send me a PM,
and I'll tell you where to get it.

You also get some "cover art" that I drew myself.

/1
September 7, 2013

Pete Kowalski had no idea what he was doing in a place like this. it just didn't make any sense; the music was too loud, the air too thick, and - as far as he was concerned - the drinks were far too strong. He also felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb, with everyone else dancing and having a good time. He had just needed a drink, and this was the closest place he could think of. He just didn't expect to be ending his week in a gay bar.

He kept reminding himself how much he needed this, though he didn't need to work hard. Losing his shot at an internship at the museum to that bubbly, blonde bimbo was the last straw, in a very long and disappointing week. Pete had been sure the internship was his, without a doubt, but when he saw the way the girl had acted with their supervisor on the last day of interviews, he knew he'd been screwed. Or rather, she had. he was guessing that was why she got in, over himself.

Losing the internship wasn't his only problem, however, as he seemed to also have "misplaced" his newly purchased, very expensive tablet. "Misplaced" it right into his roommate's bag, he was sure. He hated that he couldn't afford to live on his own, but until he found a job, he had to rely on what money his parents would send him. That, and the fact that they were paying his tuition at the art school was simultaneously a great help, and one of his largest sources of worry. But this is what he had wanted, more freedom, a chance to meet new people and see more of New Hampshire, and maybe break out of his shell a bit more, before he really struck out into the world.

Of the latter, he could say he was successful... More or less. While he hadn't made very many friends outside of school, working on his art had freed him, in a strange way. This train of thought however, only led him to his biggest problem of the past two weeks, a painting he'd been having particular trouble with. A painting he was meant to enter into a gallery show at the school, before winter break.

His teacher's doing, of course. Pete would never be so presumptuous as to think that any of his work belonged in a gallery, but at Ellen's enthusiastic coaxing, he had agreed, believing her that it would help the school in the end. Now though, he was regretting letting her talk him into it, as he hadn't even the slightest idea where to begin, and with the deadline coming up so quickly, he was getting worried. He guessed it was the pressure to succeed that was blocking his creativity, that and the distinct possibility of failing.

Suddenly finding himself needing another drink, he turned to the bartender and asked for another beer. He hadn't particularly cared for the taste of beer when he had first tried it on his twenty-first birthday, but over the years it had grown on him considerably, and now he felt almost comforted when he had occasion to feel the cold liquid snake its way down his throat, quickly heating his insides.

As Pete waited for his drink, he felt someone walk up behind him. He brushed it off as only another patron, also looking to refresh their drink, or perhaps one of the sweaty men from the dance floor. That is, until they spoke.

"What is a femme-boy like you, doing in a place like this?"

Pete recognised that voice instantly. Smooth, almost seductive, and always laden with sarcasm and mischief. Not to mention that there was only one person in the world who called him by that name. But it couldn't possibly be, he thought.

He turned in his chair to meet the voice, but all the preparation in the world couldn't have readied him for what he saw. Dressed in slim-fitting black jeans, a grey t-shirt, and a dark green flannel overshirt, sleeves carelessly pushed up around his elbows, was Gary Smith. He had known who he was immediately, but seeing him, after all these years, was something he never could've expected. Seeing him in a gay bar, of all places, was distinctly surprising to Pete. He had always recognised the difference in himself between other boys, even if he didn't fully understand what that meant until his senior year at Bullworth, but he never would've imagined that he and Gary Smith could share something like this in common.

Pete couldn't get over how much Gary looked exactly the same as he remembered him. Granted, it was a bit dark in the bar, and from what he could see, Gary had slimmed down some, but for the most part, he was still the same tall, naturally muscular, devilishly handsome boy with a sly grin on his face, that Pete remembered from high school.

Then Pete realised he was staring.

"Gary", he managed to get out, sounding only slightly bewildered.
Gary's smile only widened, "You remember my name, Pete. I'm touched" he said, his voice carrying the faintest trace of playful sarcasm.

"You really think I could ever forget you?" Pete asked, knowing as soon as the words escaped his mouth, that it was the wrong thing to say.
Gary got closer, "Wow, I must've left quite an impression on you".

"On everyone. You almost destroyed our high school, remember?"

Gary only cocked his head to the side, and laughed under his breath, "Flattery will get you everywhere" he said, turning to look Pete directly in his eyes. It sent a shiver down Pete's spine. When Gary Smith looked at you that way, it was almost as if he was trying to see right into your soul, and honestly believed that he could do it.

Pete wasn't sure how Gary had recognised him so quickly in the dimly lit bar, or why he had approached him at all, but he noticed that Gary seemed to be very calm, in stark contrast to his Bullworth days, when he was all hectic energy and fiery stares. He wondered for a moment if Gary's time in the hospital had anything to do with his change in disposition.

Clearly not wanting the conversation to die, Gary slid into the chair next to Pete, "So you haven't answered my question" he said, as he motioned for the bartender. "What question?" Pete replied, feeling both confused at Gary's question, and a bit flushed at his sudden close proximity.

"What are you doing here?" Gary asked again.

Pete thought about it, for a moment. Truthfully, he had to pass the bar up ever day on his way to and from classes. He had never thought much of the place, as alcohol, loud music, and obnoxious people weren't really his favourite things. Tonight though, For some reason, he had been drawn to it. Whether it was out of convenience, or something else, he couldn't say, and he certainly wasn't about to strike up a conversation about fate with Gary. So instead, he went with what he felt was a safe response, and grinned at Gary, "I needed a drink".

Gary was unbelieving. "Petey, no one comes here for the drinks". Pete winced internally at that nickname, but decided it was better than "femme-boy", and let it go. He also kicked himself for thinking that Gary Smith would make anything easy, particularly on him.

Though Pete knew Gary was right, and honestly, a part of him had come here looking for... companionship, he supposed was the right word, he wasn't about to give Gary the satisfaction of still always being right, seven years later.

"Well," he started, "seeing as it's my first time here, I guess you could say that was a mistake, on my part".

Gary's face seemed to light up at Pete's words. "It's your first time?" he asked loudly, "Why didn't you say so? Allow me to give you the grand tour!" Gary made a sweeping motion with one arm, while hooking his other around Pete's shoulder.

"There's where the desperate sluts go to drunkenly grind against each other" he said, motioning to the lower dance floor, "And there's where other desperate sluts go to drunkenly grind against more desperate sluts," Gary pointed at the upper dance floor with the arm crooked around Pete's neck, before swiveling quickly in his chair.

Slapping his hands onto the bar, Gary continued his tour, "Here is where Tony there pretends that he knows what in the hell he's doing, with all that booze", the bartender - evidently named Tony - slipped Gary an unimpressed smirk and middle finger, as he helped two others on the other side of the bar. This seemed to amuse Gary, as he chuckled a bit before nodding his head toward the far corner of the bar, "And that is where all the desperate, drunken sluts go to suck each other off." Pete could see some signs in the area Gary was referring to, indicating that it was the restroom. He made a mental note never to use the restroom.

Pete turned to face Gary, who was now leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, clearly satisfied with his performance as tour guide.

"You seem to know an awful lot about this place" he said to Gary, with a slightly accusatory tone.

Gary stared out at the dance floor, "I come here at least twice a month, hoping for something new. But there never is. It's always the same losers, dancing with other losers. Getting drunk, getting high, going home and fucking each other," he continued, still staring at the dance floor "and then they come back the next night, and do it all over again!"

Gary's mood seemed to have darkened a bit, and Pete was now becoming anxious, memories of his time with Gary at Bullworth suddenly flooding his mind. When Gary quickly jumped out of his chair, Pete jumped a bit, only glad that Gary still had his back to him and didn't notice.

When Gary turned around, Pete could see a familiar gleam in his eyes. Not necessarily bad, but familiar. Gary reached out his hand to Pete, and gave him a crooked smile,

"Let's get out of here."

Pete couldn't think of anything better, as the music was starting to irritate him, and he had completely lost his buzz. He took Gary's hand and looked up at him with an eager "Let's". Pete paid his tab, then he and Gary grabbed their jackets, and headed out into the cool September night.