Benny sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. It was late-- or rather, very early, almost six in the morning. He stood in the hallway outside the loft, his hand on the door, considering if he should even go inside, or instead turn around and go across the street to grab a coffee. Everyone was probably asleep, but no doubt they had gone to bed wondering why he hadn't been home when he said he would, around eleven o'clock last night.

The meeting with Alison's father had gone on longer than he thought it would, and Benny sure as hell wasn't expecting going home with Alison, to her large manor in Westport, full of expensive paintings and doors twice as tall as he was. They had shared champagne and caviar, which probably cost even more than the apartment he, Mark, Roger, Maureen and Collins all shared. The room was large, with a big king-sized bed and a roaring fire and Gershwin was playing in the background, Rhapsody In Blue's tinkling piano solo accompanied by loud, raucous trombones and trumpets and soft clarinets. As the sound reached a crescendo, Alison had leaned over and pressed her soft, lipsticked lips to Benny's, her hand drifting towards the zipper of his tuxedo pants, which had been borrowed from Collins, so the fit was a bit big.

"For a dirty boho boy living in Alphabet City," she had whispered in his ear, "you're pretty cute."

He had smiled nervously, unsure of what to do with his hands, so he settled for playing with her short, curly hair. Soft, he thought. Like fur.

"My father likes you, you know," she mumbled almost absentmindedly, pushing his shirt off where it pooled at his feet, along with his pants. She had already stripped of her little green dress, which had made her eyes even brighter during dinner.

He didn't remember much of dinner, only papers, messy signatures, and the way Alison kept looking at him across the table, like the way Maureen would look at a new pair of stilettos in a shop window, or Roger at the new Fender guitars at the downtown music store. Opportunity had come a'knockin, and Benny was never very good at saying no.

He had felt like a stranger, like he was having an out-of-body experience as Alison pressed her body to his, lowering him to the bed. They had fucked then, slowly, Alison leading the whole way. Benny would have pushed her off if he had the strength, but he needed the job, needed the money, and the marriage that was surely sometime in his near future. So he closed his eyes, but it was difficult to pretend it was who he wished it were. The skin was too soft, the hair too long, the body much too small. Her flowery perfume was so unfamiliar to the musky aftershave and tobacco he was used to smelling during sex. It was almost repulsive how girly Alison was.

He hid his face in her hair when they both climaxed, she silently and he straining to keep from crying the name he was concentrating so hard on. He couldn't risk it. Benny only hoped he would understand why.

Now, here he stood, hand gripping the door frame, heart pounding in his throat. Finally, he pushed the door open and it slid sideways so he could slip in. Trying not to make too much noise, he closed the door behind him, slipped his shoes off and made his way to the kitchen. It was almost pitch black, except for a single, almost invisible light coming from the direction of the couch. A cigarette burning in midair, which meant--

"You're home awfully late." Collins' deep baritone voice permeated the silence of the loft. The little light flicked up and down as he spoke, sparks of ash spreading like fireflies in the dark. Benny swallowed, busying himself with making coffee. "So. How was the meeting?"

At first, Benny didn't answer. He was afraid of what he might say. He already assumed Collins knew more than signing business deals had occurred. But did he know he slept with Alison?

"Fine. Um, Alison's father signed me as his partner."

"Really? 'S good." Collins stood and made his way over to where Benny was standing, sipping his coffee nervously. Collins seemed so much taller in the near-darkness. The light of his cigarette got dangerously close to his face. He could smell the smoke, and a hint of beer. Collins was drunk.

"Yeah." Benny didn't know what else to say. He drained the rest of his coffee and placed the mug in the sink.

"You seem depressed," Collins mumbled, flicking the ash into the sink, laden with what looked like dirty dishes from last night's dinner. Benny sighed, and tried to move away. Collins grabbed his arm and held him, hovering over him like a tree weighed down from age, its bark dark and rough, so similar to Collins' own skin.

"Something's wrong," he whispered. He grabbed both of Benny's arms in a vice-like grip, pressing his face closer. Benny tried to turn away, but already Collins was pressing his lips to his, tongue forcing entry, clashing against his. Collins tasted so familiar, so right. He was rougher than Alison, his mouth fighting for dominance against Benny's. Benny almost gave in, but he pushed away, wrenching his body away from Collins as though he had been shocked.

"Thomas." Benny shut his eyes tightly, pressing his fingers into his temples. "I can't. Alison, we're... we can't. We just can't."

"I knew it." Collins crossed his arms, his tone biting. "I smelled her the second you came in. Her perfume, her shampoo. You even fuckin' smell like sex."

For a second, Benny was scared. He was no weakling, but Collins was much bigger than he was. He knew Collins would never hurt him. At least, he hoped not.

"Tom, I'm sorry. We're going to be married next month. I'm sorry."

Collins sighed, almost as if all the hope had gone out of him, like he was wilting before Benny's eyes. He didn't even say anything, just grabbed his jacket and left. The loft door slammed behind him, rattling the walls and making it seem as if the whole building would fall down. Benny wished it would. That way, he wouldn't have to marry Alison, wouldn't have to make deals with his son of a bitch soon-to-be father in law. Benny could feel his life slipping away from him, being pulled down the steps and into the cold air, along with Collins. it was spiraling in a direction he sure as hell didn't want it going in.

But Benny had always been bad at saying no.

FIN.