His grandmother’s words are all that are bouncing around in Henry’s head as he enters the dark bar. It smells musty, like stale beer and sweat, and he knows instantly that it’s exactly what he needs. He’s at a hole-in-the-wall pub just off campus that everyone frequents, or, well. He’s heard that everyone frequents it. He doesn’t exactly have anyone who’s ever taken him here or invited him to come with. He mostly just sits in the student center, drinking coffee and doing his coursework, and occasionally he hears things. He’s heard about this place several times, usually from a group of people he’s made a habit of eavesdropping on. That’s the truth, isn’t it, he tells himself bitterly as he enters the bar, you just sit around and listen to people you want to hang out with because you don’t have any friends of your own.

He waits until Henry’s finished, can tell by the way he is just lying there, spent, his body heaving and out of breath, and then he steps off. The vague part of Alex that is still himself underneath the fog of arousal that’s clouded his head wants to pull Henry up, clean him off, make sure he’s okay. That part, however, is locked in the recesses of his brain, and he wants to keep going because it’s his turn now, and by the look Henry gives him when he sits up, he knows that, too.

“Come here.” Alex snaps his fingers again, and Henry starts to rise to his feet. “Did I say to stand up? I said to come here.” Henry stops, looks up at Alex like he is confused, but he isn’t, and Alex knows it. He drops to his knees and crawls forward…