above all (m×m) ✔

18) pennies and nickels

When Steven turned 18, he got himself a fake ID. It cost him all the money he had got to his birthday present plus two-thirds of his savings. Not that the latter amounted much, as he had the impulse control of a 5-year-old when it came to spending money. If he saw something shiny, or sweet, he just had to buy it and regret later.

Some would even say that the fake ID was his most responsible and grown-up purchase, and yet he couldn’t even gloat about it to his father or older siblings. They would have snatched this new, shiny world of nightclubs away from him the second they found out about it.

Steven tested the ID in a 24/7 corner store, and got himself two cans of beer and packet of cigarettes to demolish during his search for a nightclub. By the time he stumbled upon FAB, a new club with a shiny purple neon sign, Steven already had a nice buzz going.

The night club was packed with people, to a point where Steven needed to elbow his way to a less noisy part of it. There were no vacant tables, so Steven opted on standing with his liquor in hand. It was all working like a dream, until a swirl of red rammed straight into him and made him spill the drink all over his shirt.

"Oh, fucking hell." The swirl of red, a.k.a the only girl in the bar, as far Steven could see, cursed. When he looked up at Steven, who just happened to be about a foot taller than her, her eyes were wide. "I'm buying you another, just come with me."

Steven thought about telling her that he was in fact as gay as they came and that there was no need for her to buy him a new drink, when the girl took him to a table where two guys already sat. The girl slumped onto her seat, beckoning Steven to sit down next to this angry looking guy, whose stare failed to make Steven feel welcomed.

"How much do you have?" She asked the others, while spreading a collection of pennies and nickels on the table. When the angry guy and the one sitting in the corner, peering at Steven behind his curly, overgrown hair, didn't make any move to take out their wallets, she demanded: "Come on, I spilled his drink and I'm going to buy him another."

"You really don't have to.." Steven said, but he guessed no one could hear him over the music, as they just continued counting their last pennies.

"Wait here, I'll go get you another.. beer?" The girl asked, but didn't stay to wait for an answer or more protests of not needing to buy him the drink.

"I'm Brandon." The curly haired guy said, giving Steven a shy, but welcoming smile. He glanced towards the direction where the girl had disappeared to and handed Steven a stack of napkins for his shirt. "I hope that shirt wasn't expensive. Shirley's a walking disaster sometimes.."

"It was, but it's fine." Steven told Brandon, doing his best to ignore the angry guy's glare which was still boring into him. "Oh, and I'm Steven."

"Ash, stop glaring at the poor guy." The girl, Shirley, hissed and slapped the angry guy's shoulder, before placing a beer on the table in front of Steven. "Here you go. And, hey, feel free to join us. We're celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" Steven asked, looking at his companions with lifted brows. One of them, Brandon, had an open sketchbook on his lap, while the other, Ash, looked like he was in a deathwatch, and Shirley was the only one still smiling.

"Brandon and I found our first apartments." Shirley announced, while a proud, wide grin spread on her lips.

"Oh, so you two are a couple?" Steven asked, frowning in puzzlement when Shirley spewed her beer all over her dark green shirt and Brandon laughed into his hand.

"We're twins, so no." Shirley was still laughing, while wiping her reddened face. "And we're both gay, so double-no, and I said apartments, so we're actually moving away from each other for the first time."