Jet had meant it when he said it wasn't Ashley's fault. It wasn't like the man had any influence on the sexual tension, chemistry, whatever it was, that always seemed to be simmering between them in abnormally high temperatures. He flushed but smiled, when Ashley stepped close to him and threw his arm around him. Suddenly, he was close enough Jet could feel the heat of his body and it made him flush more.  The warmth of Ashley's body so close to his own rekindled memories and sensations from the summer before. Their past escapades played like a sizzling reel in his mind.

"Cheer me up?" He chuckled, a coy smile playing on his lips as he nudged Ashley's side with his elbow. He could feel his heart pick up in pace at the man's words. He knew well what the other meant by it, even if he didn't say it out loud. There was a part of him that was excited at the prospect, which proved to him further that this had perhaps been inevitable. "Just say you wanna get with me again." He teased, but it was a little flirtatious.

"I certainly have a few ideas, but I'm sure you also have yours," he teased a little, quickly falling down the rabbit hole. "What services can you offer, mhm, professor?" Fluttering his lashes up at the man, cheeky and a little thetratical on purpose, but still cute.

"We're a pair of gossiping ladies, so down to get into the business of the students here." He joked. Dorian was a good fun, and he was aware of it. He's always been energetic, friedly and a bit of a jokester at times. He liked making people laugh, and he liked being around people. It was a win, win combination. He did enjoy hanging out with Ashley, although he haven't spent much time around him until this summer school. He remembered him from school, and they've interacted before, but not this long, not of their own accord.

"Still a raging libido then? Well, I'm not surprised, with your looks," he teased, laughing in good humour. "I'm surprisingly a relationship kinda gal," he chuckled, "but I do know how to have a good time." He smirked. He's had some adventurous and hot escapades, be it when he was single or when he was in a relationship. He just generally preferred the stability of a relationship. He was single for a reason right now.

He had a wide grin on his face when he saw the older man flush a little at his question. He knew he had seen it right. "A little bit," he agreed. "Especially to a bisexual guy like me, I know what to look for, or I suppose, how it looks when there's some sparks between two men." He admitted, still smiling. He was quite eager to hear about this finally, getting some interesting and fun information.

"So this year, have there only been eyes, or have you two?" He made a lewd gesture, grinning. "He's got a pretty nice ass. Both of you do, actually." He chuckled, unashamed of admitting it. He was rather blasé about giving out compliments. "Hey man, I'm not judging your taste, he definitely doesn't seem like much of a youngling around here...but you like them cute, huh?" He leaned back, playing idly with the neck of his guitar, his fingers tapping gently against the wood. He had to admit Ashley certainly had taste, because Jet was very good looking in terms of handsomeness.

Dorian's eyebrows quirked up in genuine interest. "Jet, huh? Cute name for a cute guy," he said, turning the name over in his mind.

The sultry atmosphere of the Parisian nightclub enveloped the crowd like a warm embrace. The thumping beats, strobe lights, and electric energy combined to create an ambiance that was both heady and intoxicating. Front and centre, Dorian, was a beacon in the bright lights, playing with his band Banquet, his performance and raspy voice an embodiment of electricity. Shirtless, the heat and exertion from the performance had turned his skin a flushed shade, sweat trailing down his chest, glistening under the neon stage lights.

The vibrations of his guitar melded perfectly with his passionate voice, which poured out raw emotions into the lyrics of each song. With every strum and note, Dorian became more engulfed in the music, losing himself in the rhythm and the memories they evoked, and letting himself get pumped by the excitement of the crowd.

And then came that song. He usually left it until the end.

The melody started slow, melancholic, building in intensity as Dorian’s face grew sombre. It was one he had penned during a lonely night in a cheap motel room, a product of the torrent of emotions he had felt after the night with Lucien. Their drunken escapade, the vulnerability, the warmth of Lucien's arms – followed by the sharp pain of Lucien’s words and his regret of ever leaving, even for a moment. The pain was fresh and pulsed. Dorian had tried to find solace by pouring his emotions into this song, capturing every ounce of his longing, confusion, and newfound feelings. So far, this was also one of their most popular songs.




As he came onto the verse, Dorian's blue eyes skimmed the crowd, a habit he had picked up since Lucien’s disappearance, always hoping, always searching, although he didn’t really believe it to be possible. What were his chances? Lucien could be anywhere in the world right now, and Dorian didn’t believe he could have luck like that. At least he could dream, eh?




And tonight, amidst the sea of dancing figures and swaying bodies, he almost stopped singing, when he found him. Lucien. Their eyes locked, and the world around Dorian seemed to blur and fade away. His heart sped up, picking up miles per second, his hands suddenly feeling clammy on the strings and he didn’t dare look away, if, for any reason, his best friend were just a slip of his imagination and longing.




He clenched his jaw for a second, blinking, his voice changing a little, at the realisation that it was him. The lyrics of the song suddenly felt more vulnerable from his mouth, raw and charged—almost heavy. Doran shifted, stepping forward on the stage, drawing the eyes of his bandmates as he shifted his grip on his guitar, all of them clearly sensing something changed. He sang every single bloody word from that point on only to Lucien – baring himself that way.




Dorian's heart raced, not from the thrill of the performance, but from the intensity of the moment. The spotlight seemed to shine brighter, his skin seemed hotter, the crowd's cheers grew distant, and all he could focus on was Lucien's piercing gaze, looking back at him and making Dorian feel like he could perhaps see deeper than ever before. If Lucien disappear after this, without Dorian getting the chance to see him, talk to him, he knew he would fucking cry, and he wasn’t ashamed of admitting it to himself.




He would bawl his eyes like a fucking baby without excuses. Part of him wanted to jump off the stage and make his way to Lucien just to make sure the other would stay, would stay real—yes, there was still a tiny sliver of him who doubted but hoped. However, he was aware Lyra would punch make him eat dirt if he tried crazy shit like that. He could almost feel the imagined sting of her knuckles against his ribs, should he dare to up and leave the stage now. So, he planted his feet firmly, stayed tooted to the spot despite the onslaught of tumultuous feelings threatening to sweep him away. His torso was glossy with sweat and his pants stuck to him in places he didn't like, but he continued singing—nervous, excited, elated, terrified.




He continued onto the chorus again, followed by Damon playing a guitar solo, and as the song reached its emotional climax, Dorian's voice wavered slightly, the magnitude of the moment catching in his throat. The last note lingered, echoing in the charged silence that followed. For a heartbeat, there was stillness—a collective holding of breath—as if the audience and the performers were connected by the invisible threads of shared emotion. And then, the dam broke. The hall was filled with the deafening roar of applause, cheers, and whistles. The problem was, Dorian was barely taking anything of it in, he felt like he went deaf and his eyes were still stuck on Lucien.