||London - 10:45 PM||

Spencer raised his head at the sound of the bell, looking up at the customer. He was unusual looking but regular.

Looking up at the clock, he smirked. 10:45, the usual time.

"I'm guessing it'll be a Smirnoff for you, Eh lad?" The man grunted, nodding.

The bartender turned around grabbing the finest Smirnoff they had. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't stocked up the bar with the best of the best alcoholic drinks for this peculiar customer.

The man was tall and well built, it was obvious he went to the gym. His light hazel hair spiked up smoothly, peach fuzz that he could barely grow on his chin. His skin was a fair color with cold hues, his nose and cheeks being nipped from the cold snow.

He had to admit - He was very charming despite his black eyes. Ah yes, the only thing that stopped him from hitting on the customer where his eyes - He had none. Or at least they were fully black.

Sliding over a glass of Smirnoff to the customer, he leaned back on the counter behind the bar.

There was a heavy silence in the room, the only sound being made was the light sipping of the customer drinking.

Spencer hesitated before taking a leap of faith. "Who are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Er - What is your name? Y'know, what do they call you?"

The customer stopped drinking, looking up at the bartender. His face was tense as he studied the man.

"Tom, and you?"

"Spencer."

"Hm, nice name. I like it."

Spencer felt his cheeks warm up, chewing on the inside of his cheeks. "Thanks, I like yours too."

Tom nodded briefly, before returning to his drink. Spencer bit his lip looking away. Slipping to the back, he picked up a stool. Walking over, he placed the stool in front of Tom taking a seat.

The eyeless man cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the sided for a dramatic effect.

"I, Uh, Hope you don't mind me sitting across from you."

Tom shook his head, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Meh. I could use the company."

Spencer nodded, holding his breath. He took a good moment, staring at the stranger up close.

He had wide shoulders and a strong sturdy hard chest, his arms were strong and big but not so much to where it became unattractive. The fuzz on his chin was adorably cute but insanely hot. His lips, gah they were so plump. He had piercings too- A bar piercing on his eyebrow, a lip piercing on his lower lip, and his ears were pierced.

This man was a punk's wet dream.

Just the thought of Spencer hanging onto Tom's strong arms as he thrust deep inside of him- staring into those black pits of an eye. Yeah, he could definitely enjoy that. Waking up in the arms of the strong tall man, showering him with kisses. The thought made Spencer shiver.

"You okay? You've been staring at me for an awfully long time." Tom chuckled, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Spencer snapped out of his daze nodding softly.

"Yeah sorry I was just thinking."

"About?" Tom's British accent purred, driving the young bartender insane.

"Oh just um, some things. Like chores Y'know. I have a really dirty house that I need to clean." He chirped nervously.

'Nice one Spence..'

Tom laughed briefly, shaking his head. "I best be going." Standing up, he left 20 bucks on the counter leaving before the boy could say anything else.

It was obvious to Tom the boy was very fond of him - And he would've taken him up on his offer gladly if it hadn't been... For Tord.

Ah yes, him. That mother fucking ass hole. Tord was responsible for everything. He led him on, he made him believe he loved him. Then he left him for dead.

When the robot crashed with both of them inside, he left with God knows who. He left Tom there to bleed, to die.

Tom clenched his fist, pushing his thoughts to the side. He stared up at the night sky, taking in a deep breath.

"Why him?"

His soft voice spoke, pursing his lips bitterly.

Why him? Why did it have to be Tord? Him of all people...

Tom shook his head again. 'No' he thought in a stern voice, glaring at the ground. 'Forget Tord, Screw him! That bastard left you, he doesn't deserve to be a thought in your mind.' He scolded himself as if he was a child who was being punished.

Looking back up to the streets, he continued walking, making his way to his apartment. It was soothingly quiet for him as he made his way to his home.

He pulled his blue hoodie off of him, taking a good look at his body that was covered in ink. Tord had written all over his body, trying to get Tom's attention or at least a response.

Tom only scoffed, stripping himself of his clothes entering the shower. Washing himself down, he scrubbed harshly at the words Tord had written.

Satisfied seeing a clean bare body, Tom turned the water off and grabbed a towel nearby.

Stepping out, he heard some rustling coming from his spare room. Uneasy, Tom threw on some boxers and jeans before stepping out of his room, not taking the time to notice words that were written on his arm. Creeping towards the door of the spare room, he kicked down the door of the room.

No one was there.

Tom let out a sigh of relief and irritation. Perhaps he had a little too much to drink...

Looking down at his arm, he froze.

'I'm home.'

Shudders went down Tom's spine. What the fuck was Tord talking about? He couldn't have found him... could he?

Tom staggered backward feeling a body against his.

'Shit... No no no no no...'

He froze, feeling arms wrapping around his waist embracing him.

"Hello, old friend."

a/n: I finally got off my lazy ass to do this... Yeah... CLIFF HANGER HAHA! First book/storyline is from ToastyStudMuffin