A/N: Chapters will get longer. Please don't favorite/ alert me/ this story unless you plan to review in the very near future.


Chapter One

Heavy rock blared through the speakers of the Corner Bar as Sorin desperately searched for his sister so he could go home to bed. The usually-sober businessman had had far too many martinis for one night- no, one week- and the liquor that Emily had ordered, sitting nearly empty in his hand now, wasn't helping his state much. He pushed through the crowd of blatantly underaged drinkers and past the stage where girls were... dancing. It was then when Sorin tipsily stumbled into Gabriel.

The latter snarled, "Watch where you're going!" Then, realizing who had bumped into him: "What the fuck are you doing here, faggot?" Gabriel smirked at the smaller of the two, too intoxicated and scared to respond coherently. Tall and proud, he stood, conscious of his external beauty.

Up, Sorin looked, to see the smooth, chiseled face of a young man. Even through his drunken stupor, Sorin recognized the boy who had beat him up daily throughout most of junior high and all of high school, and knew he had better say something. "I- um, what- hi," Sorin stammered lamely.

"Hi, yourself," Gabriel sneered. Bright, flashing lights from the disco ball reflected off of his teeth. "I haven't seen you in, what? Like, ten years?" Intent on making Sorin scared, he penetrated Sorin with his cat-like green eyes.

"No," Sorin murmured keeping his eyes downcast. "I saw you last year at reunion." While he did feel the mortal terror of seeing his ex-tormentor again, he also felt an odd sense of security of being so close to Gabriel's muscled body.

"Yeah? I didn't see you. Were you hiding from me or something?" Gabriel laughed uproariously at his own joke, and then he asked, "Would you like a drink?"

"N-no thank you. I've already got one here." Sorin lifted the champagne flute, only to realize that it was empty.

But Gabriel didn't seem to notice. "That's good. I wasn't going to buy you one anyway." Before sauntering away, Gabriel snickered one last time and rearranged his mess of blond hair, leaving Sorin in utter confusion.

"Sorin! Sorin!" A female voice broke him out of his daze. Sorin turned to see a tiny girl, almost doll-like, running up to him, drink sloshing out of her hand.

"Oh, Emily," he sighed, relieved. "I was looking for you. I'm going home, if you want to come. I'm tired and I have work tomorrow." Already Sorin was aware of what his sister and best friend would think of this.

"Aw, you're no fun!" Emily complained. "Don't be a party-pooper! Why do you have to be such a workaholic?" To be honest, Sorin didn't like his job that much. The only perks were the salary and title as CEO. "Can't you stay a little longer?" Emily stuck her bottom lip out in what was supposed to be an irresistible pout and clasped her hands together.

"Emily, please," he began. Before continuing, he rubbed his hand over his unshaven face. In thirty seconds alone Emily had accomplished the (not-so hard) feat of annoying Sorin with her whiny-voice. "Come on, I'm tired. I don't care if you want to stay, but I'm heading home."

"But I want you to stay!" she whined. "Come on, I'll buy you another drink." Try as she did, she couldn't get her brother to go up to the bartender with her.

Yanking his arm out of the petite brunette's grasp, he shouted, "I don't need a hangover worse than the one I'm already guaranteed to have tomorrow morning!" Even in the crowded and noisy establishment, heads, of which included the exotic dancers, turned to stare at them. Sorin lowered his voice a bit. "Look, I'm going to go home no matter what you try to do. I'll leave you my car and debit card."

Emily's eyes bulged open. "Do you seriously trust me with that thing?" Emily asked wickedly as Sorin withdrew the plastic card from his breast pocket.

Sorin rolled his eyes. Why did I even bother coming here in the first place? he thought. "You won't be able to spend an unlimited amount of money. I don't have much in this bank account," he explained as if he was talking to a five year old.

"Well, what about your car?" she pressed when Sorin dropped the key into her palm. "You're not afraid of me wrapping your half-million dollar car around a tree?"

"Insured." He brushed off the concern without even sparing his Mercedes key a semi-wistful glance.

"…okay. Go home, go to sleep. Love you!" Prior to bounding away, she stood up on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sorin watched her retreating back before turning and starting to weave his way toward the door, barely managing not to spill any drinks or knock people down. Opening the door, he checked his Rolex. 11:48. Inwardly, Sorin groaned. Tomorrow is going to be living hell, he thought as he made to stand on the curb to wait for a cab.

A fancy car rolled up, and Sorin knew who owned it before the tinted window started to go down. "Need a ride?" Gabriel asked. Unrecognizable music played softly in the background.

"No, thank you," Sorin responded politely. "I'll catch a cab."

"That's good. I wasn't going to drive you home anyway." Gabe started to roll up his window, but then he stopped. "You know you still have your glass with you, right?"