Durarara Lemons

Catching Sparks (1)

Shizuo's POV

Attraction.

Sexual tension.

Both were normal dealings in the life of a healthy twenty-one-year-old male. Sometimes they were good, and sometimes they just made things awkward. Say, if you suddenly experienced those things toward your best friend.

And sometimes they made things really fucking awkward, and confusing. Like when you suddenly develop the urge to lean over and kiss your best male friend on the lips when you have been a straight man for a good twenty years.

Something just didn't add up, there.

So then you go through phases. First you brush it off as a fluke, then you blame any and all other things, then you start to sweat a bit, and then the inevitable question hovers over your head like a dark cloud.

Are you gay?

The question sounds extremely foreign to your own ears, but the nervous butterflies continue to flutter in your belly whenever he comes around, and you just can't ignore it any longer.

... well, alright, I'll stop avoiding the subject in a round-about matter.

I just couldn't take it any longer. This was territory I never thought I'd cross into.

Literally.

The building in front of me looked in no way off-putting. It was brightly lit, the parking lot was full, and it was located in a good part of town. Though clubs weren't exactly my favorite scene, I wouldn't mind recommending this one to a friend.

...if that friend was okay with customers like that guy who just walked in... with make-up caked on his face and a tight belly-shirt showing off his pectorals. Not that there was anything wrong with that guy. In fact, I kinda liked him. He gave me hope, because I wasn't attracted to him.

You couldn't be gay if you weren't attracted to guys, right?

Your best-

Sigh. My best friend had to be some kind of fluke. It was only admiration.

Strong admiration.

Shit.

I had to go through with this, if nothing else, to find peace of mind, didn't I?

... or I could go back home and fall into a deep sleep to rid myself of these nerve-wracking thoughts.

But they'd just be back by tomorrow morning.

As I grumbled to myself, I took that first hesitating step, before strengthening my resolve and hurriedly walking toward the front doors. The building loomed over me in all its neon-brightness, as did the bouncer checking for ID. Not that he was glowing, just that he was a freaking giant. I was in no way short, standing at six-foot-two, so that was saying something. Rather intimidating, as if I wasn't intimidated enough already. The smooth, cool metal of the door handle was slick against my palm when I wrapped my hand around it, using the last bit of courage I had to yank the door open.

It was warm inside. A puff of hot air hit me on my way in, followed quickly by an assaulting aroma of something musky and dare-I-say soothing. It was a dimly lit room, nothing like the bright landscape outside, and man, was it packed. Everywhere I looked, testosterone-filled beings were moving about and chattering happily. Staying against the wall, right next to the front door, I surveyed my surroundings with the utmost care. The place was large. A full bar hovered in the right corner, a dance floor complete with flickering and ever-changing lights was stationed in the middle, and a lounge area was to the left. At the very front of the lounge area was a stage, the one corner of this place that was properly lit, and a single silver pole reflected that light alluringly.