The lights flashed and pulsed like a heart beat, filling the club with blinding greens and hypnotic blues. Skin was dyed in the rainbow of colours, fingertips purple and legs aqua and the occasional strip of stomach a blood red. Bodies moved and writhed against each other, arms and legs and chests mashed together and rolling hips crashed like waves. Rhythmic bass being pumped from the floor to ceiling speakers flowed from one song to the next without a pause, the only difference in them being the tone of the voice overlaying it. Hair was flicked from side to side as heads bopped up and down and around, slick with sweat. The smell of it was heady and overpowering, permeating the whole room; the salty tang was inescapable, much like the presence of alcohol. Every sense became heightened as minds became drunk on booze and energy, fuzzy and muted but oh so much better than sober.
It wasn't the only presence though.
Lust gave the club a dangerous edge, with everyone trying to gain some sliver of potentially sexual attention, dancing in blatantly provocative ways and grinding their bodies together like rutting animals. It wasn't so much dancing as public foreplay.
Alfred loved it. Some dark haired beauty was pushed up against his chest and running their hands all over his body whilst he shimmied and shook his torso with a flirtatious grin lifting the corners of his mouth. Their fingers blazed a trail of fire over his biceps with ease and their cherry red lips were wet and plump. Hazel eyes burnt with the same heat, making Alfred feel hot all over. They moved together for what felt like minutes, but probably passed well over that. Eventually those lips grazed his ear, muttering in a low voice that he could only just hear over the music.
"Hey, Mr, wanna come get a drink? I reckon you're thirsty for something by now..." Alfred felt himself nodding before he even realised what he was doing. One of those hands tightened onto his wrist and he was dragged to the bar, where the music was still pounding, but not quite so deafening. The lights were white rather than pulsing, and Alfred could see his... dance partner so much better.
Okay, he thought absently, not as good as I thought. The man was practically pretty, with huge eyeliner-rimmed eyes and messy brown hair. Not his usual type, although the slim body was definitely a turn on. Good enough for a night though. Definitely.
"So, what's your name, stranger? I didn't catch it earlier." The man raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow as he spoke, resting on the bar with his back arched. Alfred lowered his voice into what should probably have been called a purr, leaning in close to the other man.
"Alfred," he drawled, "And what name do you want me to be screaming?" The man raised the other eyebrow, smirk growing predatory.
"You can call me Owen, Alfred."
Their faces were so close now that Alfred could've bent his head forward an inch and kissed those tantalising lips, and he was about to when a huge hand grasped the back of his neck and pulled him upright. He wrenched the hand off by the wrist and spun around fuming, ignoring the squeaky gasp from the Owen guy.
"Get the fuck off me retard, do you want your fucking face smashed in?"
The resulting brawl had Alfred and his assailant throw bodily out of the club into the cool March air, with the hazel eyed Owen quickly returning to the dance floor in search for easier prey. The two men walked in silence down the empty side streets, sticking to the shadowed routes and run down alleyways. Occasionally someone would pass them, but neither of them noticed or cared.
It was almost half an hour before Alfred's assailant stopped by an abandoned basketball pitch under a dilapidated and graffiti covered bridge, where another young man was standing, swinging a keyring around his index finger. Alfred turned to face the other two men, who both stood with their arms folded and were gaping at Alfred in a mixture of revulsion and complete shock. The first man was huge, towering above even Alfred (who was a tall guy), with a crooked nose and a yellow scarf that did nothing to lessen his terrifying appearance. The new man was smaller and an albino, with snow white skin, hair like ice and demonic red eyes.
"Well?" Alfred demanded, breaking the silence with a yell, "What you gonna say? That I'm disgusting? I'm some sorta scummy cock sucker? Because I'll tell you, I may like dick, but I'll break your nose again any day, you motherfucker Ivan!"
The tall man, Ivan, just smiled and nudged the albino, who started laughing. It wasn't a warm laugh, but a cold, slow cackle.
"Look, Al," he began, "When we got that message that you weren't at Mattie's, but you were hanging around down in the gay club, we thought it was a joke, you know? But we thought, hey, let's check it out. See if we can find some pussy down there instead. And guess what we find? You, and your little gay friend."
Alfred paled at the sight of Ivan clenching his fist and but stood straighter, pushing his shoulders back. "Yeah, so what, Gil? I like a little less tit when they're sucking my cock. I ain't some pussy!"
Gil's smile cracked wider.
"Prove it. Come with me, show us you're not. We're going to that posh-ass dance school place tonight," Gil grinned at Ivan as he said this, and produced a baseball bat from behind his back that Alfred hadn't noticed. "Gonna smash some trophies, do a bit of fucking shit up. You wanted to get in there a few years ago didn't you? Hey, now's your chance, gay-boy."
Gil could see he'd struck a nerve with the dancing jibe. Alfred was red and fuming, his head hung and his fists clenched tightly. Even his breathing seemed ragged and heavy.
The whole gang knew Alfred wanted to be a dancer, knew he hung and performed with the street dancers to get a bit of money, knew that if he could afford it he'd had left for the dance school long ago. He was good, and Gil knew it; hell, he even helped him get in with the street dancers for free shows and a cut of the money.
"Fine," Alfred replied, "Let's go. I haven't cared about that place for years now, and you know it."
All three pretended they hadn't heard the bare-faced lie colouring his words.
The three stood by the glass doors that led into the back of the college, scanning the area for any onlookers.
"Looks like there's no one here," Gil muttered under his breath. "Ivan, this is the one I told you 'bout, the one with the broken security. You gonna bust the door? " Ivan snatched the baseball bat out of Gil's outstretched hand and swung it over his shoulder. Terrified, Alfred watched as he sauntered up the glass, cocked his head and shattered it in one swift movement. The resulting crash echoed throughout the empty pathway, making Alfred tense. Shards of glass had been scattered all over the floor, looking like diamonds, or slivers of ice in the moonlight. After a minute of terse silence, Gil breathed out a shaky laugh.
"Wicked. Let's go." He clambered through the hole Ivan had created, contorting a little strangely so as not to be sliced to ribbons by the sharp pieces left, since any blood could be traced back to them. Ivan followed suit, ducking to avoid the door frame.
Taking a deep breath, Alfred took a step forward and shoved his hands inside his jacket pockets. His heart was thundering so loudly that Alfred feared (deep inside himself) that it was trying to hammer its way out of his chest, and he could feel it in every single vein and artery that ran through his body. But, it wasn't just scaring him. The thrill of being caught, doing something dangerous and wrong was sending sparks of exhilaration down his spine, a feeling he hadn't really felt for months, caged by his need to keep his head turned away from the wrong side of the law. Three cases in five years was pushing it by any means, and he didn't want to be sent to prison at 19. Yet here he was, breaking into the most prestigious art school in the state, because he couldn't say no for the sake of his pride.
"Hey, Al, hurry up! You're going to get lost, and we ain't coming to find you." Gil's voice jumped out from the darkness, and Alfred realised that he was idling in the doorway, whilst Gil and Ivan had wandered up ahead. He jogged to catch up with them, squinting to see his surroundings.
They were in a corridor, which, although dark and shadowed, looked clean and well-kept. Cabinets and trophy cases lined the walls, as well as paintings in frames, whose details Alfred couldn't make out. Peering through the windows in the doors, Alfred could make out easels, tarpaulins covering models, musical instruments stacked delicately against one another and huge assortments of different equipments. As he passed one door without any handy peep-holes, he stopped, pulling his phone out of his pocket and using the screen as a torch. Curiosity had the better of him, and he called out to the others.
"Hey, come over here. Let's see what's through here." he laughed, "Maybe it's an office or something..."
The double doors were painted a dark colour, and had pristine bronze handles that shone brightly under Alfred's phone light. Gil and Ivan appeared behind him, laughing loudly due to the adrenaline rush the danger of being caught created.
"Wicked," grinned Gil, punching Alfred's shoulder in a playful gesture. "Ivan can get us in here, easy as pie." Ivan hefted the bat again, pushing it under the two handles at once. His purple eyes glinted as he heaved the two ends of the bat, the resulting creak and groan from the door making Alfred flinch involuntarily.
A metallic clang told all three that the lock was broken, and a crack appeared between the two doors, sending a slim line of green light bouncing across the hall floor behind them. They shared a loaded look before Alfred pushed open the door, slipping into the new area revealed to them.
He entered the back of a theatre auditorium, filled with hundreds of plush red seats that were folded down neatly. A huge stage covered in props and curtains was illuminated by green emergency exit lights. Alfred took in the sights, looking up at row upon row of stage lights hanging from the ceiling and at the huge speakers surrounding the whole auditorium.
A loud whoop of excitement came from Gil, who had followed Alfred in without him realising. Ivan stood beside him, and without him saying anything, Alfred could tell he was actually nervous. It wasn't so much knowledge, as a feeling that came from knowing someone for far too long.
"He's being too noisy," Alfred muttered, understanding the reasoning behind Ivan's fear. The tall man looked on Gil, or Gilbert, as a substitute brother, since he had found him nearly frozen to death on the streets of his home town, somewhere in Russia. Gil had then lived with Ivan and his family until they moved to New York almost eleven years ago, where Alfred had met them. He was fiercely protective of those he believed were his friends (and despite what it looked like to outsiders of their little group, Alfred counted himself one of those people) and did everything he could to keep Gil out of prison, even if that meant being sent down instead. There was no stopping Gil once he had an idea, only covering the trail of destruction.
Ivan nodded slowly, "Yes. Let's go shut him up, then we can have some fun, da?" He stormed up to the stage, where Gil was flinging himself across the various props and wrapping curtains and cloths around his body like dresses.
Alfred jogged up too, chuckling under his breath. Gil yelled out to him, words spilling from his mouth in a torrent of energy as he stood on top of what looked like a giant Toblerone package, but painted black.
"Hey, Al, come look at this, it's so cool, look, it's like a trumpet but it's bigger, I bet I can smash it. Do you reckon I can, I think I can, it looks fairly flimsy, I bet even a weak pansy like you could do it. Here, come have a go, I bet you can- Oh God, china busts! They'll smash awesomely, fucking clouds of dust!"
Caught up in Gil's infectious hysteria, Alfred leapt up onto the stage, back flipping over the small microphones along the edge, just because he could. Ivan's deep chuckle made Gil cackle even harder, and fling a wiry arm around Alfred's shoulders when he'd found his feet again.
"Kesesesese, that was fucking brilliant, do it again!" His teeth glowed with a slight purple tinge, from a ultraviolet light hidden in the wings. Alfred realised Gil had put his gay issue behind him (for that moment at any rate) and was being perfectly friendly again, and he felt all the tension flood out of muscles. The rush of energy yanked the corners of his mouth up into a cocky smirk, and he shook Gil off of him, rubbing his hands together. He threw his body back into the arc that had taken him two trips into hospital to perfect, curving off the stage and back down onto the top of one of the folded chairs. Ivan clapped, the slapping sound echoing in the acoustics of the airy room.
"Very good," he smiled, "Show us more, da? You are on a stage, after all."
Gil screamed his appreciation for Ivan's idea, jumping off the block with a drape wrapped around him like a shawl, "Yeah, go Al! Bust some moves!"
Always willing to perform, Al clambered back up onto the stage, and ran upstage, right at the front. With an exaggerated wink to Gil, he began twisting and popping his arms, kicking his legs in time to the music that permanently ran through his head. He rolled his whole body down in a wave, flicking his heels up as the palms of his hands hit the floor, then flipped up into a one handed handstand. He spun in time to Ivan and Gil's cheering and clapping, laughing and swearing along. He tumbled and twisted around the stage, leaning on the props and occasionally Gil if he was too close to avoid. Closing his eyes, he tried to backflip twice in a row, but on the landing of his second flip, Ivan shouted for him to stop. Startled, he fell, crashing into one of the china busts and cracking it down the middle with his head. As he lay in an aching heap, Alfred vaguely registered Gil's panicked tone.
"Oh fuck, we have to get out of here, the security's coming and the set's fucked up and broken, come on, pick up Al and get the fuck out!"
Alfred cracked an eyelid open and saw the faint shadows of the guards coming from a side-door none of them had noticed before.
"Guys," he croaked, the blood rushing to his head, "Just leave me here, I'll be good, you get out."
"But-"
"No. He's right, go, Gil." Ivan flashed a sorry smile at Alfred and pushed Gil out towards the corridor they had entered from, leaping over the seats. Alfred felt himself fall unconscious as the blow to his head worked on his brain, but still heard the voices of the security guards as he drifted away.
"Yeah, we got one, but he's injured, and the others got away..."
AN - Hi! This is going to be a long one with longer chapters than usual, although updates may be slow.
