catalyst Gay preklok glam gross glitter sex. Nathan/Pickles.
His ears are full of holes with small, silver earrings sticking through them. He counts three flowers, a heart, two stars, a knife, a gun, and though there is the same amount of the same things on the other side, it is not symmetrical. He's wearing neon green fingerless mesh gloves, his fingernails a chipped lilac, lipstick smeared around the microphone that he sings into like sucking a cock. His entire body is coated in a thin sheen of glitter, globs accumulating as he sweats. His hair is so red and so everywhere, frayed edges tickling Nathan's face as he leans into the crowd, puts a hand on Nathan's shoulder.
Nathan can't believe he let Murderface talk him into this. "Come see my old friend," Murderface had said in that annoying lisp. "Come see him in this stupid gay band." Those exact words and Nathan had conceded, only because he had nothing better to do that night. They're in a new city, a fringe to something big and great, just hanging out and wasting time. Building up to something, Nathan thinks. That's what his dreams tell him. But he doesn't know what they're building up to yet, all he knows is that he works at a fast food joint, rooms with Murderface and is standing in the front row of a Snakes 'n' Barrels concert, close enough to the lead singer that he can swell the booze on his breath as he sings this dirty little song in Nathan's face. Murderface is shrieking some emotion Nathan doesn't have the intelligence to identify. Nathan doesn't know how Murderface knows Pickles, doesn't care enough.
He does something ballsy. He grabs a handful of Pickles's hair and tugs, hard enough that Pickles stammers over the lyric he'd been singing. Nathan smiles this shit-eating smile and in that moment he's hooked, he's so fucking hooked. They'll talk and laugh about this for years to come; Pickles well tell Nathan that the most romantic thing he's ever said was when he confessed that this moment is when he falls in love. Nathan doesn't know he's in love right now, though. All he knows is that he works at a fast food joint, rooms with Murderface and is standing in the front row of a Snakes 'n' Barrels concert, close enough that the lead singer's hand is wrapping around his shoulder, that he's taking the microphone away and leaning down to Nathan's ear, that he's whispering in it, that's he telling him, "See me after the show."
Maybe it's the androgyny. This is the first time Nathan's ever fucked a dude and it doesn't feel wrong or anything, his huge hands gripping Pickles's small and tight ass as Pickles wraps his legs around his waist, naked. Glitter covers him like it's his actual skin, shiny serpent scales, and he's still wearing these horrendous pink cowboy boots and he's still whispering these horrendous sultry things in Nathan's ears. They're in Pickles's dressing room; Nathan can see himself in the mirror, his back against the opposite wall as he thrusts up. There's wings of freckles on Pickles's back.
Afterwards he's walking funny, hips sore. He meets up with Murderface outside the venue; Murderface is pissing freely on the ground, teetering with drunkenness. When Murderface asks where Nathan was, Nathan tells him he was getting laid. Murderface will never find out the truth, will forget about the night down the road, that he was the catalyst for all of this.