He's the Prettiest Boy at the Party

Honestly, I know this shitty punk rock venue better than I know myself, but I still have to wonder why, out of all the possible names in the world, the owner decided to call the place Aphrodisiac.

I’m thinking that maybe it’s because the venue sort of is like an aphrodisiac, in a weird way—for me, at least. Every time I step inside, bombarded by loud people and even louder music, I feel that familiar rush of adrenaline inject itself into my bloodstream (though this rush does not all go straight to my dick the way I imagine it would if it were coming from an actual aphrodisiac). It never fails to breathe life back into my lungs, no matter how drained I might be. I’ve decided that this adrenaline rush feels almost as good as the first hit of a cigarette.

Almost.

But that’s not the point here.

The point is that Aphrodisiac, weird name aside, is more of a home to me than my actual house has ever been. My band plays gigs at a bunch of different venues, but this is by far my favorite place to go. Even if I’m not performing, I still come here at least twice a week, though most of the time, it’s even more often than that. It’s religious, really. This place is my church, and I know almost everyone who hangs out here.

Tonight, a Friday, my band is playing a gig. We’re one of the first few to perform, but I plan to stay for a while afterwards anyway. When I take the stage, the crowd seems to get a bit more excited than they were for the other bands—or maybe that’s just me hoping that we’ve actually got more than, like, four fans.

It’s when we’re playing our final song that I notices someone, someone new and different. The guy is leaning against the wall to my right, watching us with his arms crossed over his chest. I can’t see him that well—and right now I’m a bit more focused on performing anyways—but there’s just something about him that catches and holds my attention all throughout the rest of the song. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s not in the pit with everyone else, doing what everyone else does here. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t seem to have any reason not to be in the pit—he’s not talking to anyone, and he’s not at the bar drinking, either. He’s just…there. Watching.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before, and that, if nothing else, makes him extremely interesting.

Once our set is over, we take our stuff down and load it back into the van we use, though normally I drive separately, on my motorcycle. Then, when I’m back inside and on the floor, I light a cigarette—they don’t care if you smoke here—and make my way over to the guy, slowing down as I get closer. Now I can see that he’s about my age, maybe a bit younger, with pale skin and dark hair that falls in his face. He looks like he’s about my height, and tattoos are covering both his arms. He’s pretty fucking attractive, actually.

"Hey," I say without any more thought, popping up next to him and matching his position against the wall. "Whatcha doin’?"

The guy jumps a little at the sound of my voice, turning to face me. “Oh—uh, nothing,” he stammers, blinking a few times.

For a moment, I don’t say anything, because now I can actually see his face. His eyes are wide and bright, his lips pink and full. He’s so goddamn pretty.

"That’s the point," I say finally, taking a short drag of my cigarette and making sure I don’t blow the smoke right at him. "Why aren’t you out there in the pit or something?"

He shrugs, looking down at his feet. “I just…don’t really want to do anything, I guess,” he says, his cheeks turning red. “My stepbrother brought me here, but he went into the pit.”

"It’s really fun once you get in there," I say, sending him a brief but hopefully reassuring smile. I’m not usually this friendly, but he looks so awkward and lonely, and he seems really nice, and there’s just something about him that draws me to him.

"Well, maybe, but…" He trails off, biting his lip as if he’s not quite sure what to say next.

"Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?" I ask quickly, suddenly realizing that maybe I’m putting too much pressure on him or something. I have a tendency to be a little too forward.

He shakes his head. “No, no, you’re fine,” he says. “It’s not you. It’s just…this whole place, I guess. I don’t really go to venues like this often. As you can probably tell.” Now he’s got a smile on his face. It’s small and faint, but it’s there—I don’t think I’m imagining the way his lips turn up ever-so-slightly.

"Well, now’s a good time to start," I say. "This is one of my favorite places. Like, ever."

"Really?" This part I might be imagining, but I think he looks genuinely interested in what I have to say.

"Oh, yeah. I practically live here. My name’s Frank, by the way."

"I know," he replies, nodding towards the stage where another band is setting up. "You, uh, you said it at the beginning of your set. You guys were really good."

"Oh—thanks." I try not to smile at that, try to keep my composure, but the truth is, it means a lot.

"Like, really really good,” he adds. “Like…I don’t even know. Sorry, I’m kinda rambling, I guess. Also, I’m Kellin.”

My smile gets even wider, because holy shit, he’s fucking adorable.

Up onstage, the next band starts to play, and I can’t help but let the adrenaline consume me all over again. I want to be in that pit. And I want Kellin in there with me.

"If I go in the pit, just for a little while, just for a couple songs, will you come in with me?" I ask him.

He bites his lip again, seeming to consider it. Finally, he takes a deep breath, casting a wary glance at the pit in question. “I…okay.”

I take his hand without really thinking it through—do straight guys do this? Probably not, and he’s probably straight anyways. He doesn’t pull away, though; his cheeks just turn even redder, and he nods at me, smiling a little.

I pull him forward, and then we’re in the pit, surrounded by tangled, moving bodies. I only get a brief glance at Kellin, but something about him seems to have changed, and I think it’s in a good way.

From there, it’s all a blur, a blur of pushing and shoving and crazed heartbeats, and it never gets old. I don’t see Kellin much, but every now and again there’s a flash of that dark hair or those bright eyes, accompanied by a wide smile that lights up his entire face. He seems like he’s really enjoying himself, and I can’t help but feel proud.

After God knows how long, he and I both jump out, laughing and grinning at each other, soaked in sweat but not giving a shit. “Whoa,” Kellin says breathlessly.

"Pretty fun, isn’t it?" I say. He nods.

For the rest of the night, we alternate between that and hanging out at the bar and just talking. Kellin gradually opens up to me more and more, though he’s still distinctly quiet and shy—I guess it’s just his personality. I’ll admit, I’m not friends with too many people who are like this; when you’re known as the tattooed, jacket-clad punk with a lip ring and a nose ring, who smokes and rides a motorcycle, you normally don’t really attract people like him. I like it. He’s different from me, but it’s a good different.

The time flies away from us both, and before I know it, Kellin is checking his phone and exclaiming, “How is it two in the morning?”

"Time flies when you’re having fun," I say teasingly, winking at him.

He rolls his eyes, as if trying to hide the way he blushes yet again. “Yeah, okay.” He makes a face at his phone. “Apparently, my stepbrother left with a girl, so I’m gonna have to either find a ride home, or walk. Classic.”

Wow, the world must really be on my side today. I don’t know what kind of karma I’ve built up that allows for this to happen, but I’m not questioning it.

"I could take you home?" I suggest, acting casual about it.

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine, really. I’ll walk. It’s not that far.”

Honestly, two in the morning probably isn’t the best time for him to be walking around alone in this city—I should know. He doesn’t even look intimidating; someone could easily jump him or something.

"Are you sure? Because it’s not a problem," I insist. "Really. I feel like you’d be safer with me than you would be alone." I bite my lip. "Fuck. That’s probably what you’d expect a serial killer or something like that to say. I’m not planning to kill you, I swear."

“I’m not planning to kill you, I swear,” Kellin mimics. “That’s also something you’d probably expect a serial killer to say.”

"Shut up," I say, laughing and giving him the finger. "Seriously. Come with me. I’ll drive you home."

Kellin just nods and lets me lead him out of the venue, into the parking lot and the relatively cool night air. That’s when I remember something I conveniently forgot to mention.

"So, where’s your car?" Kellin asks, scanning the parking lot.

"Uh, it’s not really a car, per se…”

He seems confused, but then I can see his gaze settle on the motorcycle parked in one of the spaces. He turns to me with a questioning look, and I let a little smirk find its way onto my lips. “Yep,” I say. “It’s mine. Pretty sweet, huh?”

"Holy shit," he breathes, glancing between me and the bike in what seems like disbelief.

"You act like you’ve never seen a motorcycle before," I tease.

Now he looks like he’s fighting a smile. “Shut up. I just didn’t expect…I don’t know. I don’t know what I expected, actually.” He laughs a little. “I guess I just didn’t think I’d ever end up riding a motorcycle home at two in the morning from some shitty punk venue with a guy who’s really fucking hot and probably way too cool for me.” His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said. “I mean—um—shit, I—”

I step forward and take his hand, smiling at him and silencing his stuttering. “It’s okay,” I say, “because you’re really fucking cute and probably way too good for me.” Then I nod towards the bike. “So, are we going or what?”

After a few moments, Kellin just nods, looking like he’s at a complete loss for words. I hop on the bike and start it up, smiling to myself as it comes to life. Kellin hops on with me, hesitantly wrapping his arms around me, and then he says, “Wait, what about helmets?”

I laugh a little. “Yeah, about that…I kind of accidentally left my only helmet at a friend’s house, so we’re gonna be going commando for tonight.”

“What?” Now he sounds genuinely nervous.

"Hey, it’s okay," I tell him, trying to be reassuring. "Just hold on to me, alright? I won’t let anything bad happen."

"Famous last words," Kellin mutters, tightening his grip.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I say, grinning. "Now, where’s your house?"

He gives me some quick directions, and then we’re off, speeding down the road as the wind blows all around us. It’s cold as fuck, but I don’t care, because Kellin’s body is pressed against mine, and even with all this sound I can still faintly hear his breath in my ear. I hope I’m not mistaken when I say that this feels like the beginning of something great.

The ride to Kellin’s house is an unfortunately short one, and before I know it, I’m pulling up in his driveway. I shut the bike down and let him hop off before following suit, flashing him a smile. “So, what did you think?” I ask. “Was it traumatizing?”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “No, it was…better than I expected.” Even in the dark, I can see his cheeks turn red for what seems like the millionth time tonight. It’s cute.

"So, um…we should do this again sometime," I blurt, without thinking, like I do with almost everything. "Or maybe not this, exactly, but…we should see each other again. You know, if you want to.”

Kellin nods, stepping closer to me. “I’d like that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Tomorrow for lunch, maybe? I can pick you up here at, like, noon, and we’ll go wherever?”

"It sounds like a plan," he agrees, smiling at me. "Bye, Frank." Then he turns around and heads into his house, leaving me standing there with a stupid wide grin.

—

The next day, we end up going to Tino’s, a small restaurant and ice cream shop. We talk about everything and nothing, and with every second that passes, I find myself growing to like him more and more. I don’t think I really expected this when I went over to talk to him last night—I just thought he could use some company. Now, though…now I can see a sort of relationship blooming, and judging by the way he looks at me and talks to me, I think he can see it, too.

Now we’re sitting on a bench right outside Tino’s, finishing up our ice cream. I haven’t been to this place since I was a little kid, and it makes me feel almost childish, but in a good way. It makes me feel like there’s nothing outside this moment, like it’s just us.

"Hey, you’ve got some ice cream on your nose," I point out, laughing a little at the small chocolate dot.

Kellin’s face heats up. “Really?” He grabs his napkin and quickly wipes it off. “Is it still there?”

I lean forward, suddenly coming up with a great idea. “No, you got it,” I say. “Actually…hold up. You’ve got it on your lips, too. I can get that.”

Kellin’s eyes widen in surprise, before those pretty lips turn up in a smile. “Please do.”

And then we’re kissing, soft and slow and sweet, pulling away after a only few seconds. He’s staring at me in awe, and then he shakes his head. “Wow,” he breathes, laughing a little, as if to cover up how flustered I know he is. “This feels like some sort of crazy dream.”

"Oh, it’s not a dream," I reply, a playful smirk making its way onto my lips. "Hey, y’know…there’s a party tonight. My friend Pete’s throwing it."

He raises his eyebrows at that. “A party?”

I nod, taking his hand in mine. “Would you want to come with me?”

He bites his lip, looking a bit unsure. Then he nods. “Yeah. Okay. What time?”

—

Kellin seems a little nervous when I pick him up later. He doesn’t talk as much (he doesn’t even talk much to begin with), and though he still smiles at me, it’s a more hesitant sort of smile. I start to wonder if maybe this was a bad idea, but he assures me that he’ll be fine.

When we get to Pete’s house and are standing together in the front yard, he shoots me another uncertain glance, though I don’t think he intends for me to actually see it. I wrap my arm around his waist, and he relaxes against me.

"You sure you’re okay?" I ask.

He nods, flashing me a slightly more confident smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just kinda paranoid that something bad might happen.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Bad like what?” I’ve been in my fair share of bad situations, but I don’t tell him that.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Just…stuff. Whatever.”

"Well, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to—"

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine. Really.”

We walk into the house together, and a bunch of people turn to stare at us. I notice some looking directly at me, while others seem to be looking past me, at Kellin. A lot of these stares show interest in either me or him, and I can’t help but hold him a bit closer to me. I want to show that he’s mine for tonight, that we’re here on a date, that I’m the only one who gets to touch him. One glance at his face tells me he’s grateful for this gesture.

Other stares seem to be filled with curiosity—it’s not like there’s an abundance of same-sex couples or anything of the sort around here, though most of my friends already knew about me being gay. There are even a few people who are looking at us with contempt, eyes brimming with dark intentions. Suddenly, I understand why Kellin was nervous about coming here.

"Hey, Frank!" Pete says, popping up from nowhere. He glances at Kellin and grins widely. "Is this your boyfriend?"

"Uh, you could say that," I reply, grinning back at him and kissing Kellin on the cheek. "We’ve been on a date or two." Kellin blushes.

"Oh, he’s a real cutie," Pete says, nodding approvingly.

Kellin’s face gets even redder—I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that. “Um, thank you…”

"No prob. Well, I should go. Got a party to host. See ya!" With that, he’s off, gone just as quickly as he came. That’s Pete for you.

I introduce Kellin to some of my other friends, and we spend most of our time hanging out with them; Kellin seems to grow more comfortable around them as the night goes on. I drink a little bit—not enough to actually get drunk—but Kellin stays sober.

"It’s not that I don’t drink," he explains. "I just don’t really want to tonight."

After a while, I can’t help but notice a certain group of guys that won’t seem to leave us alone. They’re not even being that confrontational, mostly hiding in the background. It’s just that they’re always near us, watching us, pointing at us, whispering things. I don’t recognize any of them, but judging by the way that Kellin looks at them, he knows them quite well, and he doesn’t look too happy about it. He actually moves us around a few times, casually suggesting that we go to a different part of the house, but the group always ends up following us. He’s biting his lip and clenching his jaw, his hands forming fists as he tries just to breathe in and out. It’s pissing me off more than words can explain—he shouldn’t have to feel like this. Tonight was supposed to be fun.

"Hey," I say quietly, when we’re standing together in one corner of living room. "Want me to get those guys to leave us alone?"

He shakes his head. “No, just ignore them.”

"We can leave if you want to," I suggest.

Before Kellin can respond, a loud, obnoxious voice calls, “Hey, pretty boy! Who’s that with you, fag? Your boyfriend?”

Kellin frowns—it’s the same group of guys, and they’re looking right at us. “Ignore them,” he repeats, biting his lip harder and taking a shaky breath. “I can handle it.”

"Oh no," the one guy continues, putting his hand up to his chest in false, mocking sympathy. "Did that hurt your feelings, Pretty? Are you gonna cry? Are you gonna get your boyfriend to beat me up for you? Might as well just wear a dress and call yourself Kelly.”

"Okay, you know what?" I start, stepping forward, but Kellin grabs my wrist and tries to pull me back.

"Oh, look, we’ve got the boyfriend riled up now, too!" the guy yells, and the whole group laughs. "Whatcha gonna do, Tiny? You’re just a little faggot."

Kellin’s grip tightens, and he looks like he’s trying with all his might to just hold himself together.

"You’re so fucking stupid, coming to this party as boyfriends. You think anyone’s gonna be scared of you?" He nods at me. "You think the jacket or tats or piercings are gonna fool anyone when you act like that? Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a fucking pansy, just like the rest of ‘em."

Kellin does something unexpected then.

He lets go of my wrist and jumps forward. And he delivers what I can only describe as a solid right hook.

"Yeah," he snaps. "I’m real fucking pretty, alright."

The guy takes a few steps back, looking seriously dazed in the aftermath of the punch. But Kellin doesn’t stop there, punching him again and shoving him up against the wall. The guy tries to fight back, but it’s no use; Kellin just keeps on throwing punches, and he doesn’t miss a single one. Then he yanks the guy forward and jumps on him, pinning him to the floor. He steps on one of the guy’s hands, grabbing the other and bending the fingers back threateningly.

"I may be gay," he says, sounding nowhere near as out of breath as he should. "I may look like a girl. I may sound like a girl. But don’t think that means I can’t tear your fucking throat out if I really want to. Are we clear?”

The guy nods frantically. “We’re clear. We’re clear.”

Kellin glances up, staring at the rest of the shocked group. “What about you guys?”

They all make some signal of agreement, looking just as nervous as their friend on the floor. In a split second, Kellin has gone from shy to kickass, and though it’s surprising, I can’t help but think that it’s one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen.

"Okay, Frank," Kellin says, climbing off of his opponent and standing up. "We can go now."

I take his hand, and we walk right out the front door, jumping onto my motorcycle and taking off without looking back. I don’t slow down until we’ve reached the mostly empty outskirts of the city, close to where Aphrodisiac is. That’s when I park, and we both hop off, sitting down on a city bench. We’re silent for a few short moments.

Kellin speaks first. “I’m sorry about that.”

"You don’t have to be," I reply honestly. "That was fucking amazing."

He looks away, seeming as if he’s staring off into space. “Those guys were some of my old bullies, y’know, when I was in high school,” he explains. “And after I graduated, I decided I didn’t want to be treated like that, so I thought I’d toughen up. I got into, like, boxing and wrestling, even karate. Not professionally or anything, but just as a way to defend myself. And then I started getting into some pretty bad shit, getting involved with some pretty bad people, and I had to fight a lot. I think I started to let it define me, and I didn’t like that, so I’ve been trying to break away from that old life. That’s why I didn’t really want to try to go in the pit last night—it involves a lot of, like…punching, pushing, shoving…but I really liked you, so I tried it out.” He shakes his head a little. “And that’s why I’m always so nervous when I’m around you. I like you, but I’m afraid that you only like the shy and quiet me, and I was afraid that something bad would happen that would force me to show my darker side. But I just couldn’t let those guys keep insulting you like that, and I wanted to prove to them that I’m not the same scared little kid anymore.”

I hang onto his every word, and when he’s done, I say, “Kellin, I never would’ve hated you or judged you for your dark side. I like you. I want to get to know you better, and this is definitely a step forward. Believe me, I know where you’re coming from.”

He nods slowly. “Actually, I think that’s one of the reasons I like you,” he says. “When we met, there was just something about you…I just sort of knew that you and I weren’t so different. And I liked that.” He leans forward, kissing me softly, suddenly so forward and daring. When he pulls away, he smiles and adds, “But you’re still way too cool for me, probably.”

I snort. “Are you kidding? Did you even hear yourself when you were talking to that douche? I think you’re too cool for me.”

"Okay, but am I the one with the piercings, the motorcycle, the jacket, and the band? Nope. Case closed."

Then we’re both laughing, and when we slow down, it occurs to me just how gorgeous Kellin really is. “Hey,” I say. “Is it okay if I tell you I think you’re still really pretty?”

He blinks a few times at that, the kickass Kellin seeming to sort of fade away. “Oh—sure,” he replies, blushing a little and looking genuinely flattered, and that’s when I know that the shy Kellin isn’t a façade. It’s just that, like almost everyone, he has multiple sides to him.

"Good," I say, "because you are. You’re really fucking pretty. But don’t let anyone turn that into an insult, because you can be pretty and still kick some ass."

Kellin grins, and it lights up his whole face. “Think we could go back to Aphrodisiac tonight?” he asks, taking my hand in his. “I liked it a lot.”

"Absolutely." With that, I jump up and climb back onto my bike, smiling when I feel Kellin’s arms wrap around me. Then we’re off and speeding through the city, the wind whipping around us, our bodies pressed close together, our hearts beating with the possibility of something new and wild and exciting—beating with the possibility of starting something beautiful.