A/N: here's part I to my new short story! I own all these characters, but if you'd like to use them just lemme know! enjoy!!

Part I

Rainwater seemed to cause steam to rise from the heated pavement. A foggy mist rolled over the empty suburban street, and the sun hid timidly behind rolling storm clouds overhead.

Devin was quiet. He lay silently on his wet back, his body flat upon the gritty sidewalk. Water ran over his pale skin; his wavy reflection in the puddles around him.

He smirked. The storm drain gurgled as in took in the rushing waters; funny noises ensued.

His inky hair was matted to his square-jawed features. Penetrating, almost colorless grey eyes met the area surrounding him. Shirtless and shivering, he wrapped his lanky arms around his waist even tighter, curling his legs up against his ribs, noticing tears and holes in black, tattered jeans he hadn’t accounted for yet.

Nathan was late in picking him up. Already two hours since the bookstore had closed, Devin still waited.

I shouldn’t have ever introduced him to the bottle in the first place. Even after I’ve quit he continues.

Devin knew Nathan was drunk. Devin knew he would be stuck there for longer than he liked if he didn’t start walking.

But something about the icy, rocky pavement and the misty, falling world shrouding and pelting all around him eased his head.

Together for three years, Devin knew, sometimes, that he loved Nathan. Their was nothing that could tear them from each other; not a punch, not an angry fist to a stomach, not a couple of bruises.

Not even a bottle of vodka.

The scars began to sting and the bruises began to ache. He touched them lightly with a finger, soothing them with a wet touch, but the memories of his drunken counterpart on nights that seemed long ago played like a grainy film in his head.

Maybe he was kind of glad Nathan wasn’t here to take him back home.

Footsteps of heavy feet bored through the cracking of the falling rain. Turning his tilted head to see what was coming, his breath turned to fire.

It was a man, taller than him and more built. Golden hair tied back with a rubber band, tendrils of curled, wet strands curved on his pallid face. Blue eyes wandered the urban scenery; a leather jacket and holed, red fishnet underneath screamed “Look at me!” and that is exactly what Devin did.

But it wasn’t by choice, it was by need.

As the stranger approached Devin’s sprawled figure, he noticed piercing on his eyebrows and full lower lip.

“You cold, kid?” the man asked upon coming to a gradual stop over Devin.

Devin stumbled over nervousness. “Y-yes, I-I mean no, I’m okay.”

“Make up your mind,” the man replied, staring down.

Devin averted his heavy gaze and continued to feel the rainwater running over him. Almost forgetting he wasn’t alone, he came to when he heard the man speak again.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Devin.”

“Devin, what are you doing out here in this kind of weather?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re here with me, aren’t you?” Devin retorted.

“I’m Reed. And I happen to be waiting for someone to go eat dinner.” He replied, a hint of iciness in his melodic voice. Devin watched as the man dug ravenously into a leather pocket of his jacket, finally producing a white and green pack of cigarettes. Holding the pack out to Devin, Devin shook his head in thanks but no-thanks.

Pulling out a packed, thick smoke, he dropped the empty case on the sidewalk and lit it with a flick of his strong thumb. The muscles in his fish netted arms remained etched and fine.

Devin marveled in the man’s smooth demeanor; the way he dragged so nonchalantly on the cigarette, rivulets of curling smoke twisting in damp air. The way he knew to stand flat against the wall of the closed bookstore to avoid the rain from getting him wetter. The way he smiled each time he gazed down at Devin, cold and seemingly lazy under the rain and piling storm clouds.

The conversation seemed to end there, until a break of the silence came again, not from Devin or the strange, pierced, sexy man smoking a cig, but of a stiletto healed, barely dressed woman of about eighteen or nineteen. Devin remarked upon seeing her shimmering black hair and makeup on flawless skin that she looked about the same age as the man, maybe even older. Devin was disgusted. She looked to be a common street worker.

“Eva, meet my friend Devin. Devin, this is my girl Eva.” Reed played, laughing strongly at his dry humor.

“Nice to meet you Devin. Baby…I’m hungry. Let’s eat now,” the girl replied, chewing loudly on gum.

“Likewise,” Devin responded.

“Well, kid, I gotta run. Stay dry,” Reed said.

Suddenly warmth enveloped Devin as he looked to see Reed’s leather jacket laying over him. He stuttered in a thank you, but Reed and his girlfriend had vanished into the pizza parlor two stores down.

Sighing in the beauty of the man and the disappointment of the long wait ahead and knowing Reed was unattainable; Devin tightened his hold on the jacket.

It smelled of cigarettes.