the man with luminous eyes

1.

The first time they met was at a club.

It was loud, messy. The music shook the floor he dragged his feet on as he made his way toward the bar. He met eyes with the familiar bartender, who gave him a curt nod.

"Gin and tonic?" He said over the loud music. Brett nodded listlessly. "I'll get that ready for you."

He wondered how long one would have to come to a club for a bartender to remember his go-to. He didn't want to know. His liver would cry.

His eyes drifted aimlessly toward the crowd, watching as those nonsensical, drunk idiots danced with their obvious lack of rhythm. He winced every time someone's hips swung a second too late, or a bit too early, or just a beat too fast.

It wasn't long before the alcohol took over. He keeled over his drink, humming the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto to himself.

A small tap on his shoulder snapped him out of his drunk stupor.

"Excuse me," A man called to him from somewhere next to him. "You alright?"

Brett's head spun. He could just barely make out the blurry figure of the man in front of him.

The stranger turned his head to the bartender. Brett squinted, trying to make out his facial features. He was Asian and wore glasses. Taller than Brett, but significantly younger. Incredibly attractive.

The bartender and the strange asian man conversed, but it was barely audible over the loud music. The man turned to Brett after sending the worker away, tilting his head with a small smirk.

"Hey, aren't you cute," His eyes scanned his face. "What's your name?"

"...Who're you?" He asked. His words slurred and his throat threatened to expel his whole digestive system onto this charming stranger. He flinched slightly as the music crescendoed over the crowd.

"Let's get you out of here," The man offered a hand toward him. Alarm bells rang in his head, reminding him faintly of the famous, "Stranger danger" psalm his mother had taught him all those years ago.

But the way the darkness in his eyes caught the club lights were enchanting, the way the corner of his lip curled into a small smile, thrilling. Brett felt his pulse quicken against his ribs as the man gently took his hand. Brett felt himself leave his chair as the man wrapped his arm around his waist.

They made their way toward the exit before stumbling out into the cold night air. Taiwan's nightlife had sprung to life many hours ago; chatter replaced the deafening club music.

Brett felt the warmth of his arm leave him as a heavy jacket wrapped over his shoulders. The man's looks were clearer now in the light of the streetlamps, and if anything, it made him that much more attractive.

"Keep close, darling."

. . .

Brett woke up the next day in an unfamiliar bed. The contents of the night before rained down on him as he took a shower in the hotel bathroom. The ghost of the man's fingers ran down his back as he got dressed.

His voice slivered into his ear like a snake, poisoning him with the venom of his sweet words.

I'll make a mess out of you.

Brett swallowed, contemplating the empty bed before him as he put his shoes on.

No use thinking about a one night stand.

It's not like it was his first time, anyway. He's had many "quick fucks" during his 26 years of life. Some with women, many with men. The best thing to do was to leave them behind. To web them up somewhere far away and keep to his own cocoon.

It'd be easy. All he had to do was never see him again.