It was hot out, but there was a breeze blowing that cooled Charles' hair where it clung to his forehead. It was late on a Friday night, but it was quiet in this part of town. Charles could hear the distant sounds of a party several streets over, but that was all. It wasn't Raven's, though; he had just come from there, and the noise had been contained well enough in the basement that the neighbors hadn't complained. He hoped she wouldn't mind that he had left early. He had promised her that he would take at least one guy home, or at least give them his number, but they had all been too drunk and interested in him for the wrong reasons. Despite the late hour and the disappointing company, Charles smiled. He loved nights like this.
Charles turned down a side street and kept his eyes on his footing, as there were no street lamps now that he was off the main road. He had been walking for several minutes before he abruptly realized that he wasn't alone. There was another man across the street and a ways down from him, leaning against an abandoned building, and he was watching him. Charles knew he should ignore him, just keep walking with his head down, but he couldn't look away.
The man had to be a rent boy. He wasn't doing anything aside from watching Charles, not even smoking, as he leaned casually in a place that caught the full light of the moon. The wooden slates he was leaning against looked splintered and rough, but he didn't seem to mind. He was wearing a thin black shirt and pale blue jeans with generous rips. Charles swallowed; there was a particularly large rip at the inseam, showing a strip of thigh. Charles generally wasn't one for that kind of aesthetic, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him want to jump the man right there.
Charles walked more and more slowly as he approached the point where he would be directly across from the man. He had a strange urge to walk over there and do something reckless, just for the chance to find out what those lips would feel like. He wavered, like a magnet caught between two opposite poles. There was no reason for it, dark and brooding wasn't Charles' type, and yet . . . The man looked away, pushed himself off the wall as if to leave, and that was what decided it for him.
Charles crossed the street and jogged to catch up to him. "Hey," he said, and the man stopped walking. Up close, his eyes were silver in the moonlight, or maybe blue. His gaze was breathtakingly intense. Charles tried to ignore his pounding heart and smiled brightly. "It's nice out, huh?"
The man just looked at him, and Charles had an irrational sinking feeling in his stomach that even talking would cost him. He automatically felt in his pockets, but he hadn't even bothered to bring his wallet with him – he just had some loose change, a few dimes and pennies. When in doubt, Charles talked, so that was what he did.
"Are you from around here? I only ask because I am, and I'm pretty familiar with most people around here, but I've never seen you before. I'm Charles."
A hint of a smile curved the man's lips. "Erik," he said after a moment. He had a slight accent, and the way even that one word rolled off his tongue was incredible.
"Oh," said Charles, because his brain was losing its ability to function, if what it had been doing for the last five minutes could be called functioning. "That's a nice name."
Erik smiled crookedly in response. "I don't think I'm what you're looking for. Don't let me get in the way of your lovely night." He turned away to leave again, but Charles made a disappointed noise and he stopped, just enough to look at Charles sidelong.
"Look," Charles said, awkwardly running a hand through his hair, "I don't mean to be rude. After all, I just met you, and this is crazy, but–" He pulled out the scrap of paper Raven had written his number on, faded and smudged from being in his jean pocket for so long. He smiled shyly at Erik. "Here's my number, so call me, maybe?"