Blink looked at his surroundings, wondering why he was here. This was a gay youth club. Last time he checked, he wasn't gay nor was he even questioning his sexuality in the least.

"Toby," he broached. "Why are we here?"

"Because I heard good things about their mozzarella sticks," he replied.

Blink gave him an incredulous look. "From who?"

He waved his hand and flashed a devious grin at him. Blink knew not to trust that grin from his friend.

"No one," he admitted. "But! Jeremy Patkinson said that the chicks here totally make out with each other and I kind of want to watch."

Of course. Tobias was being an idiotic guy about things, wanting to see girls swap saliva. Unfortunately for him, Blink noted as he looked around, there were very few girls in the club. Sure, there were small clusters in the sunken booths, but none of them were making out. The boys were dominating the tables up and around the soda bar and dancing to some frenzied house music. Blink glanced away. He so didn't want to look at sweaty guys dancing with each other.

Actually, he was surprised that his little town held so many homosexuals. They were a speck on the map in Michigan. Maybe they were from the other high schools in the next town over or something.

"So," Tobias said. "I'm going to head off to incite those girls into tongue action."

Blink nodded. "And I'll come when I hear the smack."

Tobias wagged his tongue at him before sliding through the crowd. He noted that his best friend filched a hot wing off of someone's plate as he slipped to the sunken, booth area. This came as no surprise to Blink, who knew that he was a chronic shoplifter, a true-blue kleptomaniac. It helped earned him the nickname Snitch in their school.

Still, Snitch was his best friend. Scratch that, his only friend. After he was eight and had the accident with his mother, Blink stopped inviting friends over to his house. Things were just easier that way. Plus, he caught a lot of grief because of his name. His father was a subscriber to the 'carrying on the family name' thing and, for some inane reason, that was Blink. His father was Blink and he was Blink Jr. This became an issue in his youth when his uncle crudely pointed out the initials. Thus, they were Adult Blink and Kid Blink when they were in the same room.

He never lived it down around school and was known that 'that kid with the patch and the fruity name' throughout school. The patch was because of the accident; the name was because his parents undoubtedly hated him.

Blink shook his head and settled down at the bar. While he waited for the inevitable hand coming in contact with Snitch's face, he decided he may as well eat something. The bar was more of a concession stand: offering potato skins, nachos, hot wings, mozzarella sticks and various Coke products. Blink ordered the mozzarella sticks—Snitch had had him thinking about them—and a Diet Coke.

"Here you go," the woman behind the counter had a startlingly deep voice. "Eat up, hon."

Blink dunked a stick of fried cheese into the marinara sauce and chewed.

"Whoa," he muttered.

The sticks were good. They were damn good. He stuffed it into his mouth and reached for another.

"Slow down, sweeties," the woman joked. "Don't choke yourself."

Of course, the second she said that, Blink started choking and coughing. Blindly, he reached for his Diet Coke and slurped noisily through the straw. Finally, the large lump of masticated cheese and breading went down heavily into his stomach.

"Told ya," she winked.

Blink felt a blush heat up his face. That was when he noticed that someone had joined him at the bar. It was a boy. Oh, God.

He was going to have to let the poor guy down and explain that he wasn't gay nor questioning. Then he realized that the guy was cute…from a heterosexual standpoint. He had skin like coffee but with cream and sugar added and an upturned nose. His eyes were like…melted Hershey kisses and he had fistfuls of kinky curls. In a manly way, he was undoubtedly attractive.

"Hi," he said in a sultry voice.

Blink put his drink down. "Um…hi."

"Is this your first time out?" he asked in that same voice.

He shook his head. "I'm not…"

He put a hand on his arm. "It's okay to hide it. Really."

"I'm not…" he tried again but his lips didn't seem to be able to form words that made sense. "Do you want a drink?"

"Why?" he smiled flirtatiously. "Do I look like I need one?"

That smile made Blink feel nicer than he was willing to admit. Not many people smiled at him.

"I'm Adrian," he extended a hand.

Tentatively, he took it. "Blink."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

Blushing still, he nodded. The touch of their hand ignited a feeling in him like a fire. It was pulsing in his belly, making his heart race. He put down Adrian's hand and stood.

"I have to go," he said hurriedly, voice catching. His hand almost vibrated from the warmth of Adrian's. His heart had leapt into his throat and it was frightening. He needed to get out of there.

"Snitch!" he yelled.

He turned around just in time to see a girl scowling at him before smacking Snitch across the face.

"Pig!" she exclaimed.

With speed reserved for The Flash, Snitch was at his side.

"Bye," Blink said hurriedly, grabbing Snitch and dragging him forcefully outside.

Everything was a blur, Blink realized, after they had touched only momentarily. He was panicking.

"What was that?" he asked. "And who was that guy?"

"No one," he said hurriedly. "It was no one. Let's go before she brings her friends to lynch you."

Snitch cast him a dirty look. "Nice. Shut up."

Blink ignored him. He was too busy staring at his hand and wondering why he had reacted so much to the boy touching him.

--

Mush sighed and slunk back to his table where his friends waited for him.

"You tried," David said supportively. "It's hard being flirtatious."

He sat dejectedly next to him and rested his head into his hands.

"Yeah," Jack squeezed David's arm. "And take it from the expert on sucking at flirting. I don't know how he got me."

David smacked him on the arm, which Jack twisted slightly and planted a small kiss on the tip of his nose. This just made Mush stew more.

"And we all know how stable their relationship is," Spot put in.

"I just…" Mush bit his lower lip. "I want someone to like me and he was cute…"

The others nodded their agreement.

"But!" Jack started laughing. "At this rate, they might as well stick your butt in the Smithsonian! Oldest Living Virgin!"

David hit him again. "You're not helping."

Mush knew that Jack was right. He was utterly virginal amongst his friends. After Jack's mother died and he inherited a rather handsome sum of money (and his father got thrown in jail for some reason Jack had yet to intimate), he suggested that they all come out to their parents. His reason was if they threw them out, he knew an old man named George Kloppmann who was willing to rent them a house. They did and it happened. Mush's mother, though, loved him and supported him but her "no good, rotten, son of a bitching boyfriend" kicked him out but good. They even moved to another town.

Thus, they all moved into the house and it was tough sometimes to get by, not to mention keep sane. Jack and David were going at it almost every night and Spot... well, Evan "Spot" Conlon was, to put it lightly, a whore. Not that Mush would ever say that to his friend, but it was kind of true. Almost every night he would go out to any given club and bring home a new guy, and they would compete with Jack and David for who could be the loudest during their sexual conquests (and lately it had become quite a close contest), and consequently it would keep Mush awake at night even though everyone in the house knew that he had to go to school in the morning, and be up at quarter to three to get on his paper route on time so he could at least make some sort of contribution, minimal though it was, to help pay for the rent and the food and the utilities.

Not that school was important to any of them. Well, except for David, who was a senior at Jacques Marquette High School along with Mush. Jack gave up on school in the middle of sophomore year when his mom died, and Spot quit at the beginning of junior year when he realized that school just wasn't any fun anymore without Jack to entertain him during his classes. Racetrack lasted until the first couple of weeks of their senior year, stated he felt "isolated and stunted" at school, which really meant he was just failing all his classes, and figured it would be easier to get his GED rather than have to sit through six more senior years... besides, he really wanted to just spend all his time looking for Mister Right so they could fall in love, get married (or something close to it), run far, far away from the right-wing confines of Michigan, and live happily ever after. David often lectured the three boys on their not seeing the value of education, especially when they get such a good one for free here in the great land of America, and on their utter lack of motivation, but to no avail. David Jacobs was hell-bent on going to college and making something of himself, but was held back by two things: an utter lack of funding for his college tuition and a niggling want to stay at home and take care of his aspiring rock-star boyfriend (who could play nothing but air guitar) and his wayward friends.

Mush sympathized with David. Well, most of the time he did. But right now, he didn't really want to sympathize with anyone – especially not if that someone had a steady boyfriend, when Mush didn't. All Mush wanted to do was feel sorry for himself.

Adrian "Mush" Meyers, at eighteen years, two months, and sixteen days old, was lonely.

--

"You've been staring at your hand for the past twenty minutes, Blink, what the hell did you do to it?" Snitch warmed his own hands in front of the car's heater, which they had turned on to full blast when they got in the car ten minutes ago. The two boys were still waiting for Snitch's old, beat-up Ford pickup, circa 1973, to warm up against the early-December night.

"Nothing," Blink said, pulling his gloves on and then shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

"Dude, are you okay? You're acting all weird." Snitch looked over at him, though Blink was surprised he could see through the combination of his coat, scarf, and wool cap pulled down almost past his eyebrows.

"Yeah," he replied, shrugging. "Just tired, and it's been a weird night, what with all the rampant homosexuality being shamelessly exhibited before my sweet, virginal eyes."

"Eye," Snitch corrected with a smirk tugging at the corners of his barely-visible eyes, and Blink punched him in the shoulder. Snitch just laughed and shook his head. "Doesn't hurt through gloves and forty-eight layers of clothing."

Blink grumbled to himself, then glared at his friend. "I still don't see why you dragged me to a gay peoples' club."

"Told you... Jeremy told me you see girls just totally going at it with each other like there's nothing to it and I wanted to see it for myself." Snitch shrugged. "I mean, I could go about seeing it by way of other means, but I'm not eighteen yet and my dad watches the computer like a hawk." He turned the key in the ignition and patted the wheel. "And we're ready to go."

"You're gross," Blink said as they pulled out of the parking lot. "I don't know why we're still friends."