stop adding this book to ur bxb mxm reading lists ❤️

ONE
the good, the bad, and the dirty

"Keep your hands off, sir."

An old man gave Santiago a sour look and reluctantly dropped his outstretched hand back down to his side. He'd been prepared to grab one of the performers, probably by the ass or thigh, because that's what most of them tended to do. They had no sense of respect for the individuals on stage.

Sometimes Santiago hated this job. It was loud, crowded, and filled with old men who were married to women and still in the closet. While that was sad, they shouldn't be cheating on their partners.

         He gripped the wrist of the same old guy from before. Or touching people without their consent. "Last time," Santiago warned, voice low to emphasize his silent threat. "Next time you're getting kicked out."

           The man ripped his hand away and scowled. "I paid money to get in here," he sneered. "I should get to do what I want." He went to reach out again, for the performer closest to the edge of the stage, one of the more popular ones, Kit. Santiago grabbed the old man by the arm and roughly yanked him out of the crowd he was in.

            "Arun," Santiago called to his coworker. The dark-skinned man turned and nodded when he noticed the situation, taking his spot for the time being. Santiago dragged the asshole to the exit, ignoring his constant complaints that consisted of many racist slurs and an order to 'go back to where he came from.'

             "I was born here," Santi stated as he tossed the guy out, not giving a single shit as he almost tumbled onto his ass. "But thanks. I'll take your advice." He slammed the door shut, the guy's faint yelling disappearing as soon as he slipped back into the club.

He patted Arun on the shoulder in thanks, taking his spot back. "We gonna ban that guy anytime soon?" Arun asked, crossing his arms. "We should."

"Agreed," Santi muttered. "But the dancers have to put in complaints before we do. So far none of them have."

"At this point, I think they're used to it," Arun commented, frowning.

"Yeah. It sucks."

Arun eventually left when he was called to the bar to take care of a wasted customer, and Santiago was left alone again. He found himself glancing up at the stage, eyes instantly finding Kit's slender figure among the others, silky black hair damp with sweat and falling into their eyes. Santiago swallowed. They look incredible.

Another reason Santi hated his job. Kit Saito. The person was both a blessing and a curse. They were sickeningly sweet, with a toned body and beautiful features, and a golden personality to match. At the end of every performance, Kit would thank every single one of the guards with a soft smile and a squeeze of the arm. They were known to be an affectionate person, Santiago knew that, but it didn't stop him from crushing. Hard. Like he was in high school again.

             The music stopped, then eased into something else, signalling the end of the performance. Santiago straightened up, watching Kit leave, a sheen of sweat glistening on their bare back. Water, was Santi's first thought. They'll all need water.

          He went to walk away, but stopped when he felt someone tap him. Santiago turned around to find a man he'd never seen before frowning down at him, looking (quite honestly) threatening. His light brown skin was littered with tattoos, the majority decorating his muscled arms. He had sharp edged features, with a hooked nose that held a piercing on the left nostril. His hair was buzzed, and Santiago didn't know someone could look that good with a buzzed head. It suited him, in a scary way.

          "'Scuse me," he said, glancing down at his phone screen. "You know where I can find Kit?"

            Santiago eyed him cautiously. "I can't tell you that, sir. For the dancers' safety."

             "I get that, but — " The man stopped, phone vibrating in his hand. He answered the call and lifted it to his ear. "Kit? Yeah, I'm tryin' to find you. This — is he a bodyguard? — bodyguard can't tell me where you are."

             A couple moments passed, the stranger's features seemingly set in a permanent resting bitch face. Then he was nodding, looking up at Santiago. The latter immediately averted his gaze. That guy's stare was intense.

                "Here," he said, holding out his phone to Santiago. "Kit wants to talk to you."

               Santiago bit his lip before taking the device and holding it to his ear. "Hello?"

               "Hi!" Kit greeted, voice gentle and chipper. Santiago knew it was them. Their voice was so nice to listen to. "Can you let Lincoln in the back for me, dear? He's here to pick me up. Thank you for your concern, by the way."

              Santi cleared his throat. "Yeah, sure. My apologies."

              "No worries," Kit chirped. "Thank you again." They ended the call seconds after. Santiago handed Lincoln his phone back and started walking off. Lincoln fell into step beside him, one hand sliding into the pocket of his slacks, the other tucking his phone away.

This Lincoln guy looked professional, despite the rest of his appearance. He had a suit jacket draped over his shoulder, navy blue, and then black slacks on his long legs. The only "not professional" item of clothing he had on was the tight-fitting black t-shirt he'd kept under his jacket. He probably had to hide his tattoos wherever he worked.

            Santiago reached the back door and opened it, revealing the backstage area, where some of the dancers were getting ready to leave. Kit was one of them, sitting on a bench, tying their stark white shoes. They looked up at the sound of the heavy door creaking open, and they beamed, hurriedly finishing up before hopping to their feet.

"Link!" Kit exclaimed, jogging over and wrapping their arms around the man's torso. Lincoln's hardened features briefly softened as he took Kit's face in his hands and kissed them on the lips. Oh.

Kit pulled away seconds later, still grinning. "I managed to get off early," Lincoln explained, running his fingers through Kit's hair. "For you. You wanted to show me something, right?"

"Mhm," Kit hummed, and then they were placing their hand on the back of Lincoln's neck and pulling his head down. They started to whisper something, resulting in Santiago feeling like he was intruding on something he wasn't supposed to witness. He let the door fall shut on its own and left, rubbing the back of his neck.

I'm not surprised they're taken, Santiago found himself thinking as he stepped out into the crisp, cool air, pulling his coat tighter around himself. But I have to admit — I'm kind of jealous. Santiago shook his head at himself. I'm twenty five, not fifteen. I don't have time to be acting like a kid with a crush. Besides, I can't possibly compete with that guy.

Santi climbed into his car and started the engine, letting it warm up before he pulled out of the parking lot. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and glanced down, reading through the messages he'd been sent. A few dry replies, then one he could actually respond to.

luca –
Can you pick me up something on your way back

santi –
you have a car??? and a phone if you don't want to use said car. get doordash or something

luca –
Please

luca –
You know that's hard for me

santi –
fine what do you want

After Luca sent his order, Santiago left, deciding to grab something for himself as well so it didn't feel as much of a pain. When he got home, he found their cat, Percy, sitting on top of the table by the door, waiting for Santiago's return.

"Hi, little man," Santi murmured, scratching him underneath his chin as he shut the door with a bump of his hip. "Where's Luca? Why aren't you with him?"

"In here," Luca called out. Santiago scooped Percy up in one arm and made his way into the living room, placing Luca's bag on the coffee table. The blond was curled up on the sofa, a blanket pulled up to his chin, the only light in the room being the glare of the TV. Santi sighed.

Luca sat up and reached into the bag. "Thank you," he mumbled. Percy leapt out of Santiago's grasp and laid down next to Luca's thigh.

"Yeah, no problem," Santiago responded, sitting down in one of the armchairs. "What'd you do today?"

Luca pointed at the TV. "Watched a show."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"Luca. I told you to at least clean the bathroom."

"I'll do it tomorrow."

"Luca," Santi snapped, and the blond finally looked up. His hair was disheveled, unkempt. His skin was pale, and there were heavy bags under his green eyes, purple with exhaustion. It'd been a while since Santi had actually seen him go out and do something. "Luca. You can't live like this. You live here, too, so you're also responsible. Act like it."

The man looked back down at his half eaten taco. He set it down and stood up, blanket pooling onto the cushions. "I'm not hungry anymore." He went to leave, but Santiago caught him by the wrist.

"Put it in the fridge. I'm not cleaning up after you."

Luca sighed, walking back and stuffing his uneaten food back in the bag. Santiago watched him enter the kitchen and stuff it inside, shutting it, before he dragged himself back to his bedroom. He heard the door shut loudly, not quite a slam, but firm enough to tell Santi he was in a bad mood. He was always in a bad mood.

Santiago finished eating and escaped into his own room, falling onto his bed with a grunt. He knew Luca was depressed, knew he had anxiety, and that was why he couldn't easily do the things Santi could. But he just wanted him to put in some kind of effort — like getting a job, maybe going back to college, or even just cleaning. But all Luca did was stay at home and bury himself in his bed, or the living room if no one was home.

It started when he moved in a little less than a year ago, fresh out of a nasty break up. Luca never told him the details, but Santi knew it wasn't just a break up. Because that couldn't have landed him in such an awful slump. Maybe sadness for a little while, but not depression. His relationship only lasted around eight months.

It was weird, too, because Luca had barely contacted him in a solid year, but then he was begging for a place to stay. Santiago let him in — the guy was his best friend, and it was obvious he was desperate. He had a job for two months or so, but he quit, and since then he'd been like this.

Buzz.

luca –
I'm sorry

santi –
it's okay, I know that you're struggling. but I need you to try, okay? if not for yourself, then for me. I'm worried about you

luca –
Okay

Santiago stared down at the screen, waiting for another response, but it never came. He let out a frustrated sigh and kicked off his shoes, pulled off his pants, and tossed his shirt to the floor. He turned off his lamp and situated himself on his side, burying his face in his pillows.

He was tired, and desperately needed sleep for more than just that reason. Today had been tense and lowkey pretty shit. Maybe that was because it was Monday. Or maybe he was just unlucky.

Either way, he was out.

___

A/N: first chapter! thoughts? concerns?

+2003