Chapter 26 #2
Gene can’t argue with that, laughing again.
The warmth of Ray on top of him, so scandalous with everyone around, builds a pressure in Gene’s abdomen.
It stirs around with the alcohol in his system, moving lower—the pressure rising between his legs.
But it collides with something uncomfortable, not mentally, but physically.
“You sitting on me like this… I’m sorry, but I need to get up. I need to use the bathroom,” Gene says.
“Aw, really? I’ve barely been here, and then with Maurice gone I won’t have the same excuse to sit down on you again.”
“You won’t want to be sitting on me if I wet myself now, will you?” Gene laughs, patting Ray’s thigh. “Now, get up. I won’t be long. I’ll be right back.”
“Alright, alright,” Ray chuckles as he finally gets off Gene’s lap.
And so, Gene gets up, giving Ray a friendly wave as he walks away to find the bathroom.
He passes by the drink table, spotting a pitcher with the same red drink Ray must’ve had.
It’s absolutely wild that Ray had the courage to sit on his lap, feed him his drink, and then touch his face so sensually in a room full of people.
Gene didn’t turn him away, either—it just felt too damn good to have Ray like that.
Yes, he knows he’s being reckless. But he’s been so stressed lately about Carol and too worried about Toshiko, that it was nice to let loose for a while.
As he opens the door to the men’s bathroom, a cloud of smoke escapes through the threshold.
It makes Gene cough, walking through the miasma and passing other partygoers inside to find an open urinal.
There’s only two and they’re both taken, but there’s a stall at the end that’s open.
Though someone else is walking towards it, someone he knows: Nicky Emerson.
“Hey, Nicky!” Gene calls out with a smile. “Hang on, how badly do you gotta go?”
“Uh… Actually, I don’t have to go at all,” he laughs, itching the back of his head, messing up his shoulder-length brown hair. “You can go first.”
I get it. He just wanted to use the stall for other means. “Alright. But wait for me when I’m done, ’kay?”
“Sure thing, man.”
Gene doesn’t take long, going in and out of the stall to do his business. Nicky stays true, standing outside the stall and waiting for Gene to wrap up and wash his hands.
“So…” Nicky says, holding up a joint, “Did you want some too?”
“Of course, man,” Gene says as he grabs some paper towels, drying the water off his hands. “But, is that just a normal joint or…?”
Nicky smirks. “You know me too well. Yeah, it’s laced with smack.
Been smoking more of these lately. I figured, wouldn’t it make the party more fun?
Sure, there’s always drinking, but we’ve done that before.
That’s what everyone else is doing. We’ve only ever smoked this stuff in our rooms—what if we experienced it another way?
What if it made the feeling even better? ”
Nicky sure knows the right things to say to sound enticing.
But what would Ray think? Ray has never been around Gene when he’s smoked this stuff before.
How would he react? Or… would he not care?
He knows Gene smokes and even occasionally dabbles in coke.
It’ll be alright. I don’t think Ray will mind. I can still have him and the dope.
“Yeah, I get it,” Gene says. “Sure, I’ll take some.”
And so, Gene goes back into the stall, with Nicky this time, and they light up the joint, taking in hit after hit.
He realizes after some time they’ve probably been huddled in this stall for a little too long.
Thankfully, many of the people coming and going are drunk, so they don’t bother to notice or comment on it.
Hell, he’d hate for people to assume they’re doing other things than just smoking dope.
Maybe if I’d dragged Ray in here with me, yeah, but definitely not Nicky.
Gene scrunches his nose for even imagining the idea.
But that thought, it reminds him—Ray is still waiting for him out in the lobby.
His heart thuds against his ribcage.
Oh shit. I told him I wouldn’t be long. How long have I been here in the bathroom? Ten minutes? Twenty minutes?
He hopes to god that Ray isn’t mad at him. Worst case scenario, he could just say he had bowel troubles and that’s what took him so long. But he should definitely get back. He can’t keep Ray waiting.
“We should probably get outta here…” Gene says, voice raspy with smoke.
“Heheh… yeah…” Nicky smiles, the sort of smile with his eyes half-closed, high out of his fucking mind.
Gene exits the stall, washes his hands yet again, then heads towards the door that leads to the lobby.
But as he steps out—
Glass shatters.
Someone yelps.
A man raises his voice.
“What the fuck, man?!”
Gene rushes into the lobby, shoving a few people out of his way—his heart racing even faster than it was moments before.
On the tile floor lies pieces of a shattered drink glass—brown liquid sprayed over it, on people’s shoes, their pants…
And Ray’s tank top.
“Watch where you’re fucking going!” yells the man again.
Gene recognizes him as one of the members of the opening band, the Kilotones. He’s not much bigger than Ray, only an inch taller and a tad more muscular, his long dark brown hair contrasting Ray’s blond.
“I hadn’t even taken a sip yet,” the man spits.
“I—I’m sorry, it was an accident,” Ray says, bringing his hand near his face.
“You better get me another drink.” The Kilotone lunges toward Ray and curls his fist around the strap of Ray’s shirt. “That was fucking uncalled for.”
Ray grimaces, his brows knitting together. “I really didn’t mean to, please, you don’t need to—”
“Get me another drink, faggot. I saw you sitting in the lap of your guitarist—”
“Stop it!” Gene yells. His heart beats wildly, panic coursing through his bones. “Shut the hell up right fucking now!”
Gene throws his arm in-between them, forcing the Kilotone to let go of Ray, jolting him backwards. Gene stands in front of Ray, guarding him.
“Gene! It’s okay!” Ray touches his shoulder from behind. “I just bumped into him by accident. I don’t wanna cause a scene.”
Gene’s chest rises and falls, breath after another large breath. He glares at the Kilotone. “Don’t you dare say that to Ray. He doesn’t owe you shit. Apologize to him right fucking now.”
“He should apologize to me. He’s the one who made me spill my fucking drink! And you—you’re just as bad as him!” The man raises a fist, as if he were to throw a punch—
And Gene does the honors of smacking his own fist into the man’s nose instead.
“He already said sorry, you fucking moron,” Gene snarls.
The man stumbles backwards, with two other Kilotones catching him before he falls over. “You little shit!” he rasps.
“Gene! What the hell?” Ray pulls on Gene’s shoulder, but Gene keeps his gaze focused on the man in front of him. He breathes heavy, in and out, his heart barely keeping pace.
“Alright, you’re asking for it!” The man stands back up straight, nose swollen and bloody. He readies his fist again, lunging toward Gene—
But Gene is quicker. He rams his hands forward, pushing on the Kilotone’s shoulders—making him fall to the ground, his landing cushioned by the others trying to catch him, but the weight of Gene makes their hands slip. Gene straddles the man, keeping him down on the floor.
His mind is spinning wild. It’s all happening so fast. The high is kicking in the strangest way possible.
All he sees is red—the bloody nose, the flush on his cheeks, the fire in his eyes—and yet, it’s not enough.
The Kilotone tries to fight back, throwing his hands up to push Gene off of him.
Gene guards with one hand, then spots something in his peripheral view—he finds a shard of glass on the floor from the cup that was shattered moments earlier—
He grabs it, using it as a weapon, holding it against the man’s throat.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Gene whispers.
The man freezes. His eyes are wide, bloodshot and scared. He can’t even speak, or else the edge of the glass shard would break the skin. Gene grips it tighter, the sharp glass tearing into his fingertips, blood pooling in his palm—
“Gene! My fucking god, stop it!”
Ray’s voice snaps him out of his stupor.
Like scissors cutting a taut string.
“What…” Gene looks down, his grip loosening ever so slightly on the shard of glass.
He pulls it away from the man’s neck.
“Gene, get ahold of yourself!” Ray grabs his arm, pulling him into a standing position and off the other man. Gene stumbles, his heart racing, yet Ray keeps him steady.
“Ray, I—”
“Fuck, are you insane?!” the Kilotone yells. “You could’ve killed me!” He stands as well, the other Kilotones helping him up.
“Gene!” Maurice says, approaching him. The whole room is spinning, his eyes barely focusing. He hasn’t let go of the glass shard. “I leave you guys for a few minutes, and look what happens.”
“Wait, what…?” Gene scrunches his brows. Ray’s hands are so warm, heating up his arm underneath his blazer.
Dennis approaches next. “Gene, what the hell is going on?”
Santiago approaches too, from where? Gene can’t tell. His head feels so fucking heavy. “Gene, are you okay? What happened?”
Pat comes up next. “Chill out, man. What’s gotten into you?”
Even Stefan is here. Someway, somehow. “That was interesting.”
“Gene, what’s going on?”
“What were you thinking?”
“That’s enough, boys, that’s enough.”
“Motherfucking crazy, man!” yells the Kilotone. “I’m sorry. Fuck, man. I’m fucking sorry!”
“Let’s just clean up and be done for now…”
“Gene, what’s wrong?”
“Aauugh!”
Gene yells, holding his head with one hand. The voices are all too much. His pulse throbs in his ears.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Ray says, his voice so soothing amongst the others.
“Yeah, sure, Ray,” Gene replies.