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Chapter 1: Însămânţa-2

The flashing lights were harsh and insistent as Dustin made his way through the crowd and up to the bar. His face was known; there was no need to shout his order over the pounding bass, his bill accompanied by a wave and a familiar, appreciative nod. No mood enhancers lightened Dustin’s step, no prescriptive attempts at happiness, and he was feeling all the worse for it. Dustin stepped back into the swarm of people, became ensconced in radiance as color flashed over, around and on both shirt and jeans, white and faded blue almost glowing under the black lights. The gin and tonic in his hand shone like some form of alien goo. And all Dustin could think about, even as other bodies pressed against him and tried to inspire him into dance and touch, was the similarities to the verve of blue that belonged to a pair of dead eyes. It was all, in fact, that Dustin had been thinking about for the past three days.

He couldn’t place reason as to why the man was haunting him. Their meeting had been a random act of kindness, certainly nothing more. Surely Dustin had not become so jaded that something so mundane would ingrain itself that deeply inside his head, that a sympathetic gesture would leave an inerasable impression? And it was far more than the man’s expressionless gaze, more than the handsome face or hair. It was the words that wouldn’t let Dustin go. Simple, something you might say to a child, that the sun still existed behind the cloud cover, but the meaning kept hitting Dustin at the most random moments. Like when he looked in the mirror. When he kept asking himself: are you there, sun? Behind the clouds in my eyes? Maybe it was just the lack of believable answer that was bothering Dustin most.

“Hello there, gorgeous.” A deep voice purred uncomfortably close to Dustin’s ear and a palm snaked boldly down his spine. Dustin turned, did not recognize the face, and forced away an instinctually snarled response. After all, what else was he here for? “Dance?” the voice asked, and though the taste had suddenly become venomous, Dustin swallowed the drink and set aside the empty glass.

He shivered, shook off the bite, and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

The music was the perfect background for thoughtlessness. The beat was everything—hands groped in time to it, breath was huffed into ears alongside of it—even thought process was sorted to the music. Would you like to take this higher? Dustin’s answer was a hissed, “Let’s do this,” and the hopeful look on his dance partner’s face morphed into feral grin. Dustin’s wrist was snagged; he was hurried through gyrating bodies, the bathroom door, a stall, he was shoved against the cold metal side, and a face he did not know met the skin of Dustin’s neck with harsh bites and hungry moans. A body, already hard from dancing, nudged insistently at Dustin’s hip through clothing. Fingers began to dig for the fastening of Dustin’s belt and Dustin flinched; spit wet Dustin’s neck and he swallowed a mewl of disgust. Overhead lighting, too bright, too obvious, shone into Dustin’s upturned eyes. He turned his head, blinked hard, if for nothing else than to place his line of vision out of the rays that shone (as bright as sunlight, his mind whispered) and Dustin frowned at the arbitrary thought. The stranger lifted his head to brush hot breath over Dustin’s ear, and a palm began to work itself into the front of Dustin’s jeans. Dustin sighed in relief when the man’s head effectively blocked the light (but the sun still shines behind…) until the man moved, (like cloud cover…) and Dustin opened his eyes wide, staring blankly.

“You okay?” the man asked, feigning concern while never once stopping the roaming of his hands or the desperate attempt to remove tight clothing. Dustin turned a disinterested glance towards speech. “I mean, whatever and all, just…you’re not hard or anything.”

Dustin looked down, as surprised as the man was annoyed, not trying to hide his reaction. “It’s okay,” the man continued, suddenly aware he was losing ground “I don’t care if you don’t.”

Nope, Dustin’s mind agreed, and a light slowly started to flicker to life in the back of Dustin’s skull. He doesn’t care one tiny bit. I could be on fire, Dustin thought, and if I told him not to worry about it, to just ignore it and keep trying to pull my jeans off, he would. Where the question came from, Dustin had no clue. “What do you think about the sun?”

Already reattached to Dustin’s neck, latching on skin in an effort to re-establish compliance, it took the other man a second to respond. When he did, it was with irritation. “Wait…what?”

“The sun…” A frown and puzzled uncertainty stilled hands. “You have a son?”

Dustin shook his head, confusing himself as much as he knew he was confusing the other man, but something gnawed at him. He couldn’t stop himself. “Not a son, the sun,” Dustin insisted. “Big ball in the sky, shining light of life, glowing orb…”

“Listen, gorgeous.” The other man smirked, a small smile that only lifted one side of his mouth. “Whatever you’re on, enjoy the trip.” Both of the stranger’s hands pressed denim back and down, exposing warm skin to cool air. “Don’t get me wrong,” the man said, palms tracing hipbones, fingertips wandering through curls. “I’ve got no problem with chatting during s*x. I can think of all kinds of things to whisper into those pretty ears of yours if you want me to. But if you wanna talk about the logistics of the sun, you got the wrong guy.”

The man’s tone was playful, the reply spoken with a grin, but none of it registered in Dustin’s minds except the last five words. “You got the wrong guy.”

Forest green eyes sought out his own. Not blue. (You got the wrong guy.)

Desperate floundering all but begged for permission. Not quiet confidence. (You got the wrong guy.)

“I’m sorry,” Dustin said, pushing the other man away by his forearms. “I can’t do this.”

Lust dropped to defeat. “Wait!” the man urged, reaching for Dustin quickly. “I was just kidding around. We can talk about whatever you want—I love the sun! Everybody loves the freaking sun!” Realization hit harder as Dustin began to refasten clothing. “Come on, don’t be a f*****g tease! This is bullsh—”

“I’m sorry,” Dustin cut him off and pushed his way free of the stall. There were a hundred other desperate souls in the club. The man was smooth. He’d find a way to procure someone else. Dustin didn’t stop at the bar. He didn’t head back to the dance floor. He walked past it all and pushed his way outside.