we're friends, right?

this club.

Pavel had always been the kind of guy who carried his feelings quietly. He kept most things to himself, not because he didn't care, but because he never knew how to open up. Around strangers he was calm, polite, a little distant. But with the few people he trusted, he changed—his smile came easier, his jokes slipped out without him thinking, and the shy walls around him softened. Only his closest friends ever saw that side of him.

Pooh, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He walked into every room like he already belonged there. He made friends without trying, talked to strangers like they were old buddies, and said yes to almost anything life offered him. He liked people, he liked connection, and he never seemed afraid of showing exactly who he was.

—

Before Pavel could even argue, his friends had already grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of his apartment. They were going to a club—literally the last place Pavel ever wanted to be. The loud music, the heavy bass shaking the floor, the flashing lights that felt like they were burning into his eyes... none of it was for him.

"Come on, 'Vel!" Thomas whined dramatically. "It's gonna be fun." He leaned in, staring straight into Pavel's eyes like he was trying to charm a scared cat out from under a couch.

Pavel let out a long sigh, the kind that said he knew he had already lost this argument.
"Okay," he finally muttered, shoulders dropping as if he accepted his fate. "But I'm not staying here until 3 a.m. I'm serious."

Thomas nodded so fast it looked like his head might fall off. Then he grabbed Pavel's wrist again and practically dragged him toward the entrance. He looked way too excited for someone pulling along a very unwilling friend.

Pavel couldn't help but laugh a little at Thomas's energy, shaking his head as they stepped into the glowing, noisy chaos together.

Pooh sat with his friends—Namping, Kong, and Milk. They weren't exactly the most popular group in the club, but they were pretty enough that people kept coming up to them asking for their phone numbers. Men, women—it didn't matter. Someone was always trying to flirt.

But Pooh kept turning everyone down. He wasn't interested in just "anyone." He liked being the one to make the first move, to choose who he wanted.
He lifted his drink and took a sip. The blue raspberry flavor hit first, sweet and cold, and then the sharp burn of vodka rushed down his throat.

"Too much vodka," he muttered under his breath, placing the glass down.

His friends were talking, some story he wasn't really paying attention to, but he nodded along anyway. Their voices blended with the music, giving him something to focus on while his mind wandered.
Pooh's eyes roamed the club, hoping tonight someone might catch his attention.

And then he saw him.

At first, it was just a man's back—broad shoulders, a toned build, black hair slicked neatly back. Something about that silhouette made Pooh gulp. Without really thinking, he pushed himself off the couch and headed toward the bar.

"Hey! Pooh, where are you goi—" Namping yelled after him, but the pounding music swallowed the rest of his words.

As Pooh got closer, he could hear the man laughing—low, soft, warm. The kind of laugh that made your chest feel weird. He shifted his eyes to the guy sitting next to him... and recognized him immediately.

"Thomas? What are you doing here?" Pooh asked, looking him up and down.

Thomas flinched before he slowly turned around, eyes wide like he'd been caught stealing.
"Oh—Pooh! Wow... uh... what a coincidence...?" he said, voice shaky and far from convincing.

Pooh stared at him for a moment, confused, then turned to see who Thomas had been talking to.

And there he was.

A tall man, dressed well enough to stand out even in the dim club lights. His hair was perfectly styled, his posture sharp yet relaxed. Pavel had caught the faint scent of the cologne—clean, smooth, expensive. It lingered in the air, right at the tip of his nose.

Pavel's heartbeat kicked up, just a little.
Who was this guy?