The Boys: Book of Imagines

Tom| Heartbreak Hotel

Inspired by Elvis Presley's Heartbreak Hotel. WARNING: Smut ahead. 

Well, since my baby left me I found a new place to dwell. It's down at the end of Lonely Street at Heartbreak Hotel. That's where I'll be if you need me. Drinking away my sorrows for the weekend. Hopefully by Monday the pain will be gone. Why I ever trusted her, I have no idea. She's like everyone else. Chews you up and spits you out like a piece of Double Bubble Bubblegum. When the flavor runs out, so does the love. Well for one of us it was like that. This is the new place where I get so lonely. I'm so lonely. I get so lonely, I could die. Although it's always crowded, you still can find some room. Take in the heavyweight of the atmosphere and join them.

The smoke rises and it forms a stream out of smokers mouth. Stools are full as they wait for another one. One by one people stumble to the dance floor to be with another broken hearted stranger. Sometimes they leave with them, creating the drunkest of rebounds. Others stay behind. What happens here, stays here. It's up to you if you want to take it out into the world.
For broken-hearted lovers. Shrieks of laughter come from those who stumble out of the bathroom. You walk in there and it smells like a boxed up skunk.

Walk back out and some drunk fuck tries to grab you onto the dance floor. Unless you're being that easy and vulnerable, you usually don't go to dance with them. All this place ever plays is music from the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Sometimes it's better to drink to old school than new school. Less chances of lyrics causing an uproar or rape. People come here to cry there in the gloom and they'll be so lonely. They're so lonely. They'll be so lonely, they could die. Can't blame them. Especially if they've ever fallen in love. Yikes. Love.

But sometimes a lucky person walks in. Not with loaded pockets to pay the strippers for a good time or wretched good looks. But because they got tired of wallowing away in their pain at home in their underwear. Drinking until they pass out. They come here not to get rid of the pain fully, but to ease it a little bit. Maybe that's what Mr. Wonder Locks came here for. Just a night to ease the pain. The first thing you notice about him isn't that diamond cutting jawline, no. It's that head of hair every straight, bisexual, gay lover dreams about in bed if they're into men. Then it's the up and down check.

Jawline with the jaw clenched with some type of intense emotion; I think I just cut myself. Eyes; I'm melting away. Lips; the thoughts about what they could do to you. Taking it down to the biceps; oh how you wonder what they feel like under your fingertips. The chest and abs chiseled by the gods and goddesses of Rome that are prominent under the form fitting shirt. Mental note on how he dresses. Not from around here. Too formal. But still dashing and refreshing to see in the smoke filled air. I watched from my corner booth as he went to the tiny bar in the back. Definitely out of his element. His hand gestures for ordering are definitely city boy like.

I look around the room. It's like everyone is statues. Except those who are slowly dancing and doing things in the corner that you're glad the air is foggy. There's side rooms for a reason. But these people don't seem to care about what is and isn't showing. Well, the bellhop's tears keep flowing and the desk clerk's dressed in black. Then again he does call this the funeral home fore broken hearts. What's the point of wearing something in color? I see where he's coming from. The outfits we wear are what our hearts were dressed in to make them look presentable-ish for those who will walk up to our casket (the bar usually) and say a couple prayers.

Well, they've been so long on Lonely Street they'll never, never get back. I've only been here a few weeks whereas some have been here for years. One man has been coming here for 20 years. He looks like the hound from Game of Thrones. Tall, brawny dude always asking for a coke and rum. Word is his high school sweetheart of nearly 15 years dumped him over a cryptic email. Ouch. Ever since then, he hasn't left. Maybe this place is the somber Lotus Casino. This is where they'll be so lonely, they could die. But that's how I'm not going to live. Maybe just tonight I'll make some moves. Maybe on city boy.