The fluorescent lights of the courtroom still burned behind Aaron’s eyelids, even hours later. He’d spent the day navigating a labyrinth of legal jargon and carefully constructed lies, defending clients he wouldn’t trust to walk his dog, let alone tell him the truth. The moral ambiguity of his job was a constant gnawing in his gut, a dull ache he drowned in whiskey and fleeting, meaningless encounters.

Tonight, the club pulsed with a frenetic energy that matched the thrumming in his veins. Bodies swayed to the music, a writhing mass of limbs and sweat-slicked skin. The air hung thick with the cloying sweetness of spilled drinks and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that usually numbed the edges of his loneliness. But tonight, something felt different.

He’d ordered his usual - whiskey, neat - and was halfway through the glass when he saw him… Across the crowded room, a beacon in the strobe-lit chaos. This man wasn’t like the other guys here, the ones who pretended and posed, their eyes hungry and desperate. There was a stillness about Anon, a quiet confidence that intrigued him. His gaze met Anon’s, and for a moment, the noise of the club faded away, leaving only the silent thrum of anticipation.

He finished his drink in one long swallow, the burn of the alcohol a welcome fire in his chest. He needed this. Needed the distraction, the oblivion that came with losing himself in another body. But as he pushed his way through the throng of dancers, a new, unfamiliar feeling stirred within him. He wasn’t just looking for a warm body tonight. He wanted Anon.

The closer he got, the more details he noticed. The way the light played across his features, the curve of his lips, the way his eyes held a hint of mischief and something… deeper. Something that resonated with a part of him he thought he’d buried long ago.

He stopped in front of Anon, the music a throbbing backdrop to the sudden silence that stretched between you. His usual pick-up lines felt hollow, inadequate. He wanted to say something witty, something charming, something that would make Anon see past the carefully constructed facade he’d built around himself. But all that came out was a husky, “Hey, what’s up?”

God, that was smooth, Underwood. Real smooth.

He held Anon’s gaze, the intensity of his own surprising him. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he knew one thing: he wasn’t leaving without him. Not tonight.