Chapter Two The Drugs Don’t Work #3
So Dev jumped in with a raised glass. “To bad decisions.”
“To tragic heartbreak and hotter rebounds,” Rory chimed in, clinking his glass.
Niko slid more drinks across the bar with that unreadable look of his, dark eyes lingering on Trent a moment too long. “Careful, szívem. Drink to forget, but don’t forget to walk away before you drown.”
Trent tipped his head back and threw the shot down hard, the liquor burning its way through his chest like a brand.
He slipped his hand into his jeans pocket, closing around what he needed.
Then, under the casual cover of wiping his mouth, he popped a tiny tablet beneath his tongue before the second shot even hit the bar.
It wasn’t illegal. Christ, he didn’t mess with that shit.
Never had, never would. He’d seen far too many tragic ends to that type of lifestyle choice.
Not to mention how Niko would crucify him if he ever caught him in here playing that game.
No, this was perfectly legal. Prescribed .
Standard stuff. Enough to take the edge off when everything got too loud, too tight in his chest.
Why wasn’t he telling the lads? Simple. They’d twist it into something it wasn’t. Make it out like he had a problem. Which he absolutely did not . He saw people with actual problems every damn day. Dragged them out of alleys, off bathroom floors, from fires they barely survived.
This ? This was medicine. A little help to cope with a life that never gave him room to breathe.
Nothing more. Nothing dangerous.
And nothing to worry about.
One shot turned into three, and by then the burn had faded, replaced by the welcome fog.
The edges of the night softened. The tightness in his chest loosening like a fist finally unclenching.
The world blurred in all the right ways, their banter loud and reckless, laughing too hard over nothing at all.
Niko leant over the bar to Trent, low voice cutting through the noise. “Green eyes, fifty paces…” He jerked his chin across the dancefloor to the other side, the other bar.
Trent followed his line of sight.
Fuck .
He should’ve known. Should’ve expected it. This place wasn’t only his escape. Like clockwork. Same as the next gruelling shift waiting for him in a few hours. Some patterns never broke, no matter how much he wanted them to.
And yet… it still hit like a fist to the ribs.
That familiar, breath-stealing ache settling somewhere between regret and longing, impossible to ignore.
Because Trent already knew how this would play out.
Had lived it enough times to script every glance, every accidental touch, every near-miss that never quite stayed missed.
He wasn’t sure he had the strength to resist it tonight.
Because there, moving through the crowd with that devastating smile cutting through the strobe lights, tattoos gleaming under rolled sleeves, every inch a walking reminder of everything Trent didn’t want to feel tonight, was Reece Morgan.
Trent slammed back another shot, the glass hitting the bar with a sharp clack. “Come on.” Trent grabbed Dev and Rory by the wrists. “Dancefloor. Now.”
Rory whooped, already shimmying his way through the crush of bodies and Dev shook his head with that knowing, bittersweet smile, and he let Trent drag them into the thick of it.
The music swallowed them whole, a pounding wall of sound and heat leaving no room for thought.
Lights fractured through the haze, painting the sweat-slicked bodies moving in perfect, desperate rhythm with the relentless bass.
Trent threw himself into it, rolling his hips to the heavy beat, raising his arms as if he could cast off every jagged, choking thought with each sway of his body.
But even as he moved, it all felt… muted.
Soft around the edges. As if wading through Marmite, one step behind the moment.
Rory spun in front of him, glitter catching every fractured beam of light, tickling his fingers teasingly down Trent’s chest with a wink before twirling away, his laughter high and bright as he snagged Dev by the collar and pulled him deeper into the chaos.
For a while, Trent let it consume him.
He pressed in close to a stranger. Tall, dark-skinned, sharp jawline, eyes full of promises he wasn’t sure he could keep up with. Their bodies moved in sync, the stranger’s hands sliding easily onto Trent’s hips as they ground together, friction and heat blurring.
But then…
That feeling.
That unmistakable burn of eyes on him .
Across the dancefloor, cutting through the blur of bodies as if the crowd parted for him, Reece stood there, a drink frozen halfway to his mouth, eyes locked on Trent as if he’d stumbled across something he’d lost and wasn’t sure whether to pick it up or leave it broken.
No smile. No cocky grin. But still a burning intent making Trent’s knees threaten to buckle and the music feel a beat too slow.
Reece didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t staring.
Leaning against the far wall with that infuriating calm, all collected restraint and self-control Trent had never quite mastered.
Had he finally taken the hint to stay away?
Resolved to keep his distance while still keeping Trent firmly pinned under that relentless gaze?
Close enough to haunt him, far enough to be untouchable?
And worse…did he know exactly what he was doing by watching him like that? Watching and owning him without even lifting a fucking finger?
Whatever…Trent kept dancing. He pushed harder, let his hips roll deeper to the beat, let strangers press in closer, their hands greedy and their mouths at his ear. But no matter how many fingers skimmed over his waist or how many lips brushed his skin, it all felt… distant .
Weightless.
Like he wasn’t really there at all.
Still, his eyes kept pulling back. Drawn in. Straight to him .
Those sharp green eyes stared at him from across the room as if they owned him. Like they did that very first time Trent had looked into them.
And like a tide rolling in to claim everything in its path, Reece moved towards him. Trent’s heart slammed hard, pulse kicking up into a chaotic mess that had nothing to do with the music. Or the pill he’d taken to calm it .
A stranger leant in close, lips hovering by his ear, but the words didn’t even land. Sound felt warped, as if he was underwater. The lights flared too bright, then dulled too fast.
All Trent could focus on was him .
Reece stepped closer.
Ten feet.
Five .
But as he closed the final gap between them, the music suddenly dropped. Lights cutting to black. And in that pitch black pause, hot breath ghosted across his ear, followed by a voice trickling down his neck and rough enough to light him up from the inside out.
“Not so cold now, huh?”
The lights snapped back on with a strobe of blinding colour, the bass kicking into a new, punishing rhythm. Trent spun around, heart thudding a frantic, uneven rhythm, but there was no one behind him.
No stranger.
And no sign of Reece where he could have sworn he’d felt him.
Then he caught that familiar swagger as the back of Reece’s head moved through the throng towards the fire exit, as if he hadn’t set Trent’s entire world on fire and walked away to let it burn out on its own.
Gone.
The music pounded, lights flashing around him, as that creeping, familiar numbness crawled back in. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite remember if the warmth on his skin came from the surrounding bodies…
Or the pill kicking in at last.
God, he needed to feel again.
Something real.
Something that hurt .
And there was only ever one person who made him feel everything .
So by the time the next beat dropped, Trent was already pushing through the crowd, his mind set on the one man who could ruin him in all the right ways.