Friday brought romance and the scent of freshly cut roses. Each flower Francis carried bore the fullness of something raised by his hand with love. Bouquet over his shoulder, he waited for Alissa outside her on-campus apartment. Being two years younger and still finishing her last year of undergrad—a stop over before medical school—she found living there convenient. He zoned out every time she talked about it though. Not that he meant to, but a part of him would rather hear a dull conversation about literature. Arthur once told him only a man with culture had rights to be rich. Science did not count as culture so he ignored the subject. Alissa also thought this because wasn't she the type as well?

After a minute, she emerged in a skirt and blouse combo, both tasteful and not exceptionally feminine. Red flowers bloomed across her chest and only the heels added a girlish flair. She still needed to go on tip-toe to kiss Francis. Smiling at the gesture, he planted his bouquet of red and pink roses into her waiting arms. "You look beautiful," he murmured against her ear. "Here…" he tucked a flower into her hair to match the ones on her blouse. For a second, he admired the way the red made her emerald eyes all the more startling. "Now you can be a part of my garden."

She giggled and grabbed his hand. Together they set off for their young lovers getaway, a restaurant named Moonlight and Merlot. Francis liked to go on dates like this—pricy, but he had money. Despite his player persona, he enjoyed making people feel special, so even in the club back rooms, he respected those nameless faces. His gentleman's air never died. So who cared if all though dinner and through his compliments and tasty plate of veal, he found his mind drifting off.

He liked Alissa. He liked her and he reminded himself of it often. Then why did his attention fade when she talked? Why did he feel like they lacked something? None of this talk meant anything and that should have been fine, but it wasn't. He hung on every glance and gesture she made, but not the words. At least in his head he stopped calling her Arthur. Wasn't that love? He, after all, was an expert on love and falling so deep you could never get out.

"What about you? I had to talk about my week, so how has yours gone?" Alissa asked, slicing his thoughts in two. Francis blinked, smiling with the sort of ease that didn't show a hint of his distraction.

He gestured grandly with one hand and leaned back, all grace and properness. In a cultured place like this, he looked every inch the boy his mother raised him to be. "Mon cherie, I could listen to you all day, but if you insist." He sipped his wine to stall, still organizing his thoughts. The things he did between dates were not the sort he should share during them. Francis, for all his gentleman's attitude, had not remained exclusive. Alissa never asked him to and didn't that mean something? He longed for someone to ask that of him because it might be the only thing that would get him to change. After a second, he found a safe and technically truthful answer. "I've been in and out of almost every art gallery in the city. Of course, I cook dinner for my roommates whenever I can, or Antonio does. But I'm afraid my life isn't that interesting. The best moments are when I'm with you," he murmured, dropping his voice low for effect.

For a second, it looked like his words didn't convince her. Francis blinked. It's not like he really lied. He just treasured the moments at home as much as the ones with Alissa. "I met Antonio, you know. I wonder if he told you since you seem to share everything with those friends of yours."

Francis startled, for once paying full attention to the conversation. "No, he didn't say. I hope he was nice." But Antonio always acted charming so why worry? When Francis flashed a smile though, he received a grim purse of lips. Alissa didn't look happy, leaving his smile falling away.

"I really wonder…" she murmured. Francis looked at her in question, but she just shook her head without elaborating. Alissa scrapped the last of the sauce from her dinner plate before regarding him again. "I don't think those friends are good for you. You're a far better person than I could ever hope for, but then you spend all your time with those people? You could be so much more if you let yourself. They're holding you back!"

Francis' fork clanked against his plate. For a second, his carefully put together face fell apart as his eyes narrowed and his posture shifted with tension. He managed to bite out words after a second. "That's not something you have a right to tell me." She wanted him to pick between her and his friends? Francis couldn't abide by that. Why couldn't he have both? He shook his head, forcing his speech to stay civil because he would never raise his voice to a woman. "No matter how much I like you, my friends are precious to me. Even if they don't seem it at first, those two are without a doubt the best sort of people. I'll never stop being friends with them!"

Alissa fell silent for more than a minute. Francis' thoughts whirled, worried and elated and confused all at once. Finally, Alissa spoke in a whisper. "Are we breaking up?"

His eyes slipped closed and why did he feel like screaming and pulling out his hair at those words? It wouldn't be the first time someone asked him that. Always, always. He heard those words so often and he'd always say 'yes, I suppose we are'. Because he didn't care, right? He did though. All over again he found himself drowning in the delusion those green eyes created. They held him helpless and he didn't know if he even wanted to get away. Similar images coarse blonde hair and biting words overlapped, eyes that looked at him with hate, but ate him up all the same. Because he knew how soft that man's voice could get when he read books aloud in the library and Francis hid behind a shelf so he could listen. Alissa's soft voice reminded him of that Arthur, the one that he saw only from a distance. She could look at him in that adoring way. And yet, he hated what she said. He would not leave those two idiots of friends because they'd never survive on their own. Responsibly, yes, he would call it that. Francis shivered. Push me away, please. But those weren't the words he whispered in a meek voice."…Whatever you want, dear."

He didn't meet her eye so when Alissa burst into movement, he noticed too late and jumped. She dived across the table and stole a kiss from his unresponsive, stunned lips. Eyes dazzling and hard as a jade stone, she dropped her voice low with determination. "I hope not, because I don't want to let you go." With that, she sat down again and folded her napkin. Francis noted in the back of his mind that her hands shook. He just nodded because what else could he do against such eyes?

However will my heart survive? Because I think I'll never be able to let go now.

The dinner ended quickly after that. Francis paid and found himself standing in the parking lot after returning Alissa home. He felt that something wonderful, but awful happened during dinner. It left his mind muddled so that he had to push those thoughts aside. Alissa did say one thing wholly wonderful though. She made him remember Antonio and Gilbert's importance to him.

Was he really pushing his friends away? How many times had he seen or really talked with them since school started? After meeting Alissa, the times plummeted and he couldn't help but feel guilty. As he rubbed his arms that prickled at the touch of the muggy air after being cool inside, he tried to think of a way to make it up to them. Because even if neither of them complained, he needed to make sure their friendship stayed as strong as always. An idea came to Francis as he opened his car door. Of course, how could he forget something so important? He started planning the entire drive home.

xXx

A week passed with a strange sort of energy in the home. Francis made sure to ask if the others had the next Friday night free. Antonio traded work times with a friend and Gilbert's calculus class ended at five. All perfect for his plan. If Francis wore an extra bright smile as he did what work he could from home, no one said anything. They certainly noticed though. Gilbert muttered during an exceptionally cheery breakfast, "What's up with him?" Antonio just shrugged. They would understand soon enough.

When the day came, Gilbert hurried inside to find the other two waiting for him. "Alright, where are we going?" he asked. Francis just winked and busied himself with gathering a few things. Antonio shrugged; Francis still wouldn't tell. The most he said was to remember their wallets and he handed Gilbert his fancy sunglasses that transitioned from light to dark, not the sort he usually wore because they never darkened enough. These he wore in dark places with glare. Curious.

Francis ushered them into his sleek silver sports car, looking far too pleased, even for a Friday. They had a long history of crazy Fridays and Saturdays, and miserable Sundays and Mondays. This Friday seemed more curious than the entirety of the previous year's worth of them. Francis wondered if either of his companions remembered the importance of the third Friday of October. He still pondered that when he pulled into the club's parking lot. Wouldn't they be surprised?

Antonio glanced up at the neon sign as they walked to the door. His brow furrowed. "The Oasis?" For some reason it sounded familiar. Recognition started to dawn on his face when Francis pushed them inside. Gilbert still looked around, at a lose. Rock music assaulted them and colorful lights flashed as if they walked into the middle of a concert with five hundred other sweaty bodies. Memories sparked when Francis whirled past the black leather seating and throbbing dance floor on his way to the fire exit.

"No way!" Both Antonio and Gilbert called out. Francis laughed and held the door open, motioning to the metal staircase beyond. Gilbert ran up the stairs, Antonio laughing behind him. Francis followed at an easier pace, staying back so he could watch them run like kids. Gilbert checked the door at the top and nodded back to them when the lock rattled uselessly. His grin looked the same as it had one year ago.

"They still haven't fixed the damn thing." Not one of them blinked because how many nights did they spend on the roof of this club? Together, they stepped into the evening air that held a crisp note for once, signaling the come of winter. Orange street lights flicked on below, serving as a landscape of stars below them. Above, the sky churned with a mix of indigo and cerulean that wouldn't go black until well into the night. As they walked toward that cityscape, the butts of many cigarettes squashed beneath their shoes. They spoke of the roof's often use and the reason the lock remained broken. Francis shut the door behind them and pulled a new pack of smokes from his shirt pocket. He held these up before he moved to the edge and sat between his friends.

"Happy anniversary. Shall we toast to one year of our…" he glanced at Gilbert and decided his choice word explained them the best. "…awesome friendship?"

Antonio chuckled and waited for Francis to light one cigarette. "I thought you didn't remember the club's name. None of us did."

Francis breathed in the smoke then passed his cigarette to Antonio who took it with their fingers brushing. A corner of Francis' mouth turned up in a smile. "I did forget, but when I was driving the other day, I saw this place and knew we needed to come back. Where better to celebrate us?" This club made them in so many ways. Without it, they likely would never have met. They didn't run in the same circles as Gilbert and yet fate chose to place them here.

"I can't believe it's been a year already, yet it feels like so much longer." Gilbert nodded his head as he took the cigarette next and breathed deep. He coughed, dropping his face into his palm as he held the cigarette away. "And these things still taste like shit!" Francis laughed and took his smoke back.

"That it does. Man, I still remember when I asked if you wanted a smoke and you thought I meant weed!" Francis burst out laughing. Antonio joined him and Gilbert just grumbled. He punched Francis in the arm just hard enough for him to whine and for Antonio to steal the cigarette again.

"So what if I got my slang a little mixed up! And seriously, weed tastes better. You looked all sorts of shady when you asked so I just figured," Gilbert complained with a roll of his eyes.

"That's because I was hitting on you!" Francis wailed.

Antonio nearly doubled over in laughter. "Oh my god, I just remembered that." He laid a hand on Francis' shoulder, his face solemn. "You really did sound shady, but don't worry. It was more like you were trying to lure an innocent maiden into your lair to eat. Not like you were selling drugs. Gil's the only one who would think that." He had the cigarette again and how did he keep stealing it so seamlessly? Francis groaned.

"That doesn't make me feel any better!" The other two just patted him on the back and Gilbert offered him a shoulder to cry on if he needed it, rubbing more salt in Francis' wounded pride. Somewhere in the process, the cigarette got lost and tumbled over the roof's edge. They settled down lest one of them be the next to tumble. Instead, Francis just lit another smoke and they continued to pass it around as they talked. Like always, all cigarettes came from him. Gilbert hardly smoked and Antonio couldn't buy his own. Besides, he liked borrowing from others. Francis didn't mind because this felt a little like sharing kisses, but far deeper and more poignant.

"We've changed a lot since then," Antonio said, surprising them all when he broke the silence first. Gilbert hummed in answer before snatching the cigarette for himself and trying not to look pained by it. Lord knew he was a mess back then, throwing himself into a show of teenaged angst a bit late in life. He knew the taste of pot better than tobacco and alcohol above both of them. This night felt so much better than then. His head was clear and that made everything so much more meaningful.

"It's because we're good for each other."

That, no one could disagree with. Sitting close enough to breathe in each other's smoke, it felt like they shared much more than air. Nothing they could define, but without a doubt, a something very precious. When they finished smoking, the three headed downstairs to wash the taste away with a drink. As the night descended it grew more lively as the alcohol flowed.

Gilbert swayed to the beat of the drums, not yet two drinks in. Besides the music and warm bodies, he didn't pay attention to anything. When he closed his eyes, he fell into the noise so that it thrummed inside of him, magical and alive. He loved this feeling that let him believe the entire universe existed inside of him and he could never be alone.

A low murmur of Spanish had Gilbert cracking his eyes open part way. He recognized the slinky, but powerful cage of Antonio sliding up behind him. Francis hooted from the bar. "Ya sure know how to pick em, Toni!" He joked as if they didn't know each other and Gilbert threw back his head, laughing with unrestrained joy. He pulled Antonio down and crashed their lips together. When he pulled away, he left Antonio blushing for once. And then the song ended and so did the spell. Gilbert cursed in his head that swam with something far more than beer. He wasn't even drunk yet and making out with his friends. He wanted to taste Francis too. Not sure if that was good or bad, he retreated to the bar and left Antonio alone on the dance floor.

The cool bottle felt good against Gilbert's heated skin. Francis pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, too charmed by the club to mind the taste of beer. Gilbert didn't turn away and Francis just crowded in closer, sharing the same barstool. "Why do you always pay Toni more attention?" he murmured low against Gilbert's ear. When he shivered, Francis grinned. "Hey, kiss me too." Maybe he did feel jealous. He planned this after all. They should both be crawling into his lap, though Francis had to admit, watching his friends make out answered many deep-seeded fantasies. Gilbert looked so free on the dance floor, so unlike himself.

The younger man shifted so that he nearly sat in Francis' lap, pulling him out of his thoughts. Warm arms looped around Francis' neck much to his surprise. "Kay," Gilbert mumbled before pressing their lips together. The taste of imported German beer spread through Francis like a fire. He brushed a hand through his friend's hair as their tongues tangled. Just like Gilbert thought, Francis tasted of wine and tobacco. He didn't expect the wash of cinnamon behind though. Gum? A second later, the kiss ended and the hooting of some nearby girls had Gilbert turning red. He cursed and disappeared into a bathroom to wash his face. A minute later, he stalked out, determined to get so drunk they would need to carry him home and maybe after, who knew. A buzz of excitement made Gilbert's hands shake. At home, wonderful things could happen.

It was after midnight when their partying finally winded down. Gilbert did his best to drink the place out of beer, but it was a slight improvement from last year. He still stood, though with a sway, and this time he had someone to take him home. Francis and Antonio pulled him out the door, protesting. "Not dun drinkern…" Gilbert whined. He hung off of his friends, unable to walk to the taxi himself. None were in a state to drive home.

"Come on Gil, walk by yourself," Francis slurred as he tried to push him into the car. Gilbert didn't really walk, but his ankles caught on the car's edge so that he tipped inside and onto Antonio's lap. The brunette busied himself with putting his seatbelt on and ended up having to do Gilbert's too, which felt useless after he flopped the other direction into Francis' lap. Before they reached home, he snored in a drunken stupor. If Antonio's hands strayed along both of his friends, no one said anything. When Francis paid the cabbie though, he looked just a little uncomfortable.

Once inside, they dumped Gilbert on his bed. A moment of silence passed where the other two shared a look. "Again?" The stillness broke. They dived for each other at the same time and stumbled into Antonio's room where they fell in a heap on the bed. Clothes flew aside without care or pause. When they both sat naked, Antonio collapsed on top of Francis. "We should do this more often," he chuckled, then moved to nibble on Francis' earlobe. As he stretched out, their bodies slid together, creating a friction that left both groaning. Francis lifted his friend's tanned legs so they straddled him and Antonio scooted closer to let the other lick his chest.

After swirling his tongue over one of Antonio's nipples, Francis lifted his head. "More often?" He grimaced at the thought. "I think my liver will pickle!" He'd be lucky if he could get it up now, though he liked to say no amount of alcohol could impede his ability to copulate.

Antonio laughed and yanked Francis' hair so he could kiss him again. The kiss soothed the pain in his scalp away before Antonio's sparkling eyes captured him again. "Not that." He pulled one of Francis' hands down to cup his ass. "This."

"Shit!" Francis cursed. He turned the tables and pushed Antonio onto the bed, no more worries about getting it up. His dick already twitched as he fumbled around and was pleased to find lube in Antonio's drawer. "I didn't know you felt like that. I have to admit, it's very nice. Always be my bed warmer, Toni," he whispered before spreading Antonio's legs.

"Don't forget Gilbert," Antonio added as he brushed a strand of hair behind Francis' ear. The tender action didn't match his earlier hair-pulling but that was Antonio. He did was he wanted, especially in bed. He let everyone else play out their kinks and take control if they wanted it, but there was always an untamed lust in him.

Francis snorted. "Greedy aren't you? You're very set on pulling him into our game." Not that Francis didn't have the same fantasies playing out in his dreams. He shoved two fingers inside Antonio to quiet him. The brunette let out a cry and tried to push himself onto the fingers to set the pace. Francis pinned his hips with a tut. He would be in control today and he twisted his fingers just to make that point. Antonio writhed and lay back, finally giving up and letting Francis play with him. "Gilbert can join us if he learns to hold his drink better!" he called in a loud voice, eyes cast to the not quite closed door. A sliver of dark showed the albino's room where another missed opportunity slept. It was starting to get annoying.

"Ooh, punish him, punish him!" Antonio cried, slapping his hand on Francis' back in excitement. Francis rolled his eyes and bit his collar bone before sitting back to admire the hickey left behind.

"How about you pay attention to what I'm doing right now," Francis chided. He pulled out his fingers and Antonio shifted to give him better access.

"Then hurry up, idiot," Antonio whispered as he pulled Francis' head down and pressed kisses to his jaw. Francis grinned, then pushed himself inside.

Gilbert groaned and shifted, feeling like he floated somewhere between bliss and pain. Why did they leave him? He was still totally fine. He tried to say that when they pulled him out of the taxi, but he couldn't make his mouth work, or his feet, or eyes. He noticed things through the river of haze though, not being quite all the way unconscious. But seriously, where did those stupid friends go?

A noise filtered into Gilbert's muddled mind. "Hn…?" he groaned, finally getting his eyes to crack open. He knew that sound, but his brain couldn't articulate itself. The noises were too muffled or his ears just swam with too much alcohol.

"Ah! Francis!"

Gilbert's eyes shot open. He flopped onto his side and saw the door that led to Antonio's room. The grunts from the other side grew louder and Gilbert finally understood. Oh god, I want that to be me so much. Without thinking, he slipped a hand into his pants and started to stroke himself in time with the creaks and moans assaulting his ears. Small noises slipped past his lips. What the hell. He could come just from listening to them.

Antonio perked when he heard an echo following his and Francis' moans. "Shush!" he gasped, clapping a hand over Francis' mouth. The man's blue eyes went wide, but Antonio's fingers muffled his complaint. Right when he moved to pry the fingers away, a breathy sound filtered out of Gilbert's room. The two met eyes as their grins doubled.

Francis lifted Antonio's legs to drape over his shoulders. "…Gilbert!" he moaned with a hard thrust. Antonio cried out, "Gil, Gil…ah!" A squeal answered them, followed by a thump. They paused to listen to Gilbert flail on the floor, unable to mutter a real word. After a second, Francis called out to him. "You know, you can just come in here and join us!" The two on the bed shifted restlessly, unsure if they should pause their activities. Was it worth waiting for him in the middle of this? Before they could decide if Gilbert would come or not, the door creaked open. Gilbert shuffled in, clutching his undone pants around the waist. The only light on was a lamp, but it did them more than enough justice.

Sweat streamed off the bodies of the two in bed, both striving for more, but for the moment focused on Gilbert. He hung onto the doorway. Although they invited him, no amount of alcohol could kill this situation's awkwardness. And being drunk made it hard to stand. Gilbert forgot to blink. When he did and tried to walk into the room, Francis held up a hand. "Not like that," he chided. Gilbert shrunk away. Before he could fall back into the doorway though, Francis gestured over him and explained. "No one is allowed in this room with their clothes on!"

Gilbert's eyes slid closed as his heart danced. He breathed out and dropped his hand. His jeans pooled around his ankles. Off came his shirt and lastly his boxers. When he stood naked, the others motioned wildly for him to join them on the bed. Francis pulled out and indicated where Gilbert should sit against the headboard. He flipped Antonio around and Gilbert shared a kiss with him before Francis pushed him onto all fours. "Toni dear, do you want to suck Gil off?" He pressed a kiss to that tanned back and lifted eyes to smolder at Gilbert. The pale man gulped and reached a hesitant hand to tangle in Antonio's hair.

"Sí…" Antonio breathed. Lamplight reflected off the cross around his neck as he leaned down to stroke Gilbert's thighs. The younger man sighed in response and spread his legs more. When Antonio's breath ghosted against his erection, he moaned and threw his head back before Antonio swallowed him in one gulp. The sight of them was…beautiful. It didn't look like any of them would last long either. Satisfied with the scene in front of him, Francis thrust into Antonio again and the brunette let out a cry before going down on Gilbert again. Now sure where to put his hands, Gilbert moved his to Antonio's shoulders. He didn't want to lose himself in his passion and force the other man to take more than he could, but damn if this wasn't the exact fantasy he dreamed of, except Francis should be touching him.

Gilbert lifted his eyes. Francis met them and then he was pulling Gilbert by his hair and devouring his mouth. Antonio's hands tightened on his thighs and Francis' face painted in passion. He cursed under his breath and Gilbert almost fell backwards, but Francis wouldn't let go of his hair. "Scheiße, I'm gonna come!" Gilbert hissed. Antonio hummed around him, signaling his agreement. Tossing back his sweaty hair, Francis increased his pace. Gilbert reached a hand down to grip Antonio's erection and he came first, unable to take the double onslaught of pleasure.

Francis came after, dropping down on Antonio's back. Gilbert came to the feeling of nails digging deep into his skin. Antonio rolled to the side as his eyes closed. When the other two came down from their high, they saw him fast asleep. Francis slid down to curl around Antonio. They were a mess and he hated to leave clean up unattended, but post coital lethargy bit him so that all he wanted to do was lie in this warmth forever with his precious people. He reached for Gilbert's wrist to pull him down as well, but the man already pushed off the bed. Francis propped himself up on an elbow, confused.

"Where are you going, Gil?"

Gilbert paused. He looked at the way the other two wrapped together and his eyes softened. A second later, he stepped away and gathered his clothes, folding them without noticing it. "I'm going to my bed. You don't really expect me to cuddle there in that crowded space do you?" Francis couldn't tell if the real issue lay in cuddling or the size of the bed. Part of him thought it was the former, but he didn't press the point because they really wouldn't all fit on Antonio's bed. Maybe if it had been Francis', but he didn't have the foresight to start a threesome there. Without another word, Gilbert slunk away. The door closed with a gentle click before the lock slid into place.

(I really wanted to say thanks so much to everyone that's reading my story. It makes me feel really confident. This story has reached over 1k views and 20+ followers. That's the most I've ever had and I'm really grateful. Each review makes me want to continue faster even if I don't have many days off to work. Please keep reading~!)