Masterpiece (Tronnor)

Chapter 8

"C'mon hunty, I can't even count the number of empty glasses in front of you. Let me call you a taxi." said the bartender to Connor who was sitting on the opposite side of the bar table, looking like a complete mess, burying his face into his palms.

One of the most popular gay bars was extremely loud that night. Everything was glowing from neon lights and dripping sweat, the dancefloor was fully packed, rich men standing on the gallery picking their next boytoy, while some people had the best time of their lives, Connor surely didn't.

"Hello Mr. Broken-hearted please tell me you're still alive!" the bartender shouted at Connor who didn't respond the first time. He was tall, tanned, extremely muscular with bright purple hair, broad shoulders and arms covered in different kinds of bracelets and festival or club passes. Connor slowly raised his head, laughing, putting some cash on the table.

"How do you know I'm here because my heart is broken?" he asked, pointing at the money, indicating that he was ready for the next round.

"Because you look like an alcoholic father of two, who was just kicked out by his wife, and now finds peace and security in alcohol poisoning. So lemme tell you a little something. Whoever that little twinks is, who chased you into this position, he ain't shit. Get on that dancefloor and find a new one! Or a one night stand! I'm pretty sure there are some prostitutes too." He said sliding the money back to Connor, knowing his little body would give up just by another drop of alcohol.

"Hey you don't have the right to talk about him like this!" Connor snapped, ripping the money out of the other guys hand. "He is special. I mean he was." He finally calmed down with the last words.

"Can I ask what happened? I'm Tristan by the way." He said reaching out to shake Connors hand.

"Connor." he introduced himself. "And the other guy is Troye. I really liked him and as it turned out he liked me back. And then you guessed it, I screwed up."

"Oh that's not the end of the world, hun!" Tristan laughed, patting Connor on his shoulder. "I have heard so many stories of this kind by guys sitting on that stool, I can't even count on both of our fingers. But drinking until you have to be hospitalized isn't the solution, so let me call you a cab, go home and call that Troye guy, tomorrow when you're able to talk properly. Judging by your current looks, maybe the day after." And with that he left to get a taxi.

When he got back, he found an empty chair where Connor was sitting a minute ago. Tristan turned over to a guy who sat right by Connor's former place. He actually looked a lot like him, only he was twice the size.

"Have you seen a little brown twink wearing a crop top and baseball cap, he was here just a minute ago?" he said pointing at the spot.

"You mean that one?" the guy turned around motioning towards the dancefloor. Tristan immediately cracked up by the sight.

"Well at least he's not trying to destroy himself anymore." He put his phone back into his pocket, and got back to cleaning the bar, watching the boy.

Connor lost it. He was jumping on the dancefloor, moving his body to the rhythm or occasionally to the random boy he was grinding on. He transformed into a completely different person, and that person must've been extremely attractive. He became the star of the club all of a sudden. Dancing in the middle of a circle formed by hot guys, all of them trying to get him for themselves. A handsome  blonde one got lucky. He was the same build as Connor, a little more muscular and a lot taller. They weren't even dancing, just pressing their bodies together, Connor touching the boys shirtless chest, neck and waist. He let the other one do the same to him, only a lot more aggressive. It seemed like he was ready to make Connor his own, right there. His lips were dangerously close to the smaller boy's neck, when he was suddenly ripped out of his arms.