Chapter 12: NEON SLUM

That night Mac returned from the club earlier than expected: he wasn't really in the mood to party. He stumbled to his bed and kicked off his shoes. Running his hand through his hair, he stared at the ceiling.

After some hesitation, he reached for his phone. Like all good choices made when alcohol and late-night boredom mixed, Mac turned to social media and began searching for Chez LaFleur's social media accounts.

After half an hour of social stalking, he was aggravated to learn that, among Chez's many other quirks, he also had no social accounts. There was however an image of Chez in a grainy black and white newspaper article from a year ago. It was an obituary for his mother. Mac sat up in bed. As he read, his scowl deepened. Eventually, Mac groaned and buried his head in his hands.

Chez began noticing Mac everywhere after the evening at the convenience store. They ran into each other in the library, participated in the same STEM competitions, and even ate in the cafeteria at the same time between classes. Each time their paths crossed, Mac made it a point to greet him, drawing Chez into his cheerful conversations. And every other week at the convenience store, Mac showed up alone to buy cigarettes.

Eventually, Chez began to anticipate Mac's visit with something akin to enjoyment. Sometimes he found himself staring out the window and wondering if that would be the night Mac stopped by. There was always a prick of disappointment when it wasn't.

A month passed in this way. One morning, Mac smiled on his way to class, speculating on thoughts of Chez. Mac felt Chez was becoming less guarded around him, even participating more in their conversations. As if conjuring him into existence, Mac spotted Chez in the hallway.

The hall was boisterous since it was between classes and people crowded each other, trying to get to class. As Mac approached, he raised his hand, about to call out. He realized Chez was next to a heavily tattooed student and withdrew his hand.

The two boys stood close together, their heads bent forward as if to speak in secret. Chez pulled out a book from his backpack and handed it to the other, who gripped it tightly, and leaned in like a friend to hug him. Mac averted his gaze as he passed. He ignored the door to his class and dashed for the bathroom further down the hall.

The bell rang while Mac was pressed up against the door of the empty bathroom. His brows pinched, wondering why that had bothered him. It wasn't like he was jealous of Chez.

It was a shock to see Chez in the hallway talking intimately with another guy. Mac had felt confident that Chez LaFleur didn't have friends. He never sat with anyone in class, or at the library, or lunch, nor had he mentioned a friend by name.

A sudden push on the door jerked Mac out of his thoughts. He stepped aside to let the guy inside. A heavily tattooed guy slipped in, and Mac's brows rose. The guy apologized and headed to the urinal.

Mac washed his hands for no reason and waited for the other guy to approach the sink. The guy gave a nod in Mac's direction but got no response in return. Mac noticed the textbook under his arm.

"Isn't that topic a bit difficult for a first year?" Mac asked snidely. The moment the words had left his mouth he regretted them.

He apologized. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have implied that you weren't capable."

The guy laughed. "Second year," he corrected, "but naw mate, you're probably right. I have to take this class next year but I'm a bit nervous." He held up the book. "Just wanted to see what I'm getting myself into." He dried his hands and was gone.

It was then that Mac realized his growing fixation with Chez had become a problem. He didn't like that part of himself that felt envious and defensive when Chez was involved. He groaned, brushing away the hair from his forehead. He stared at his reflection, adjusted his collar and rolled up his sleeves to the just under the elbows.

He noted the soft bare skin of his left arm and compared it to the guy from earlier who had inked nearly every exposed portion of his body. Didn't Chez have a tattoo? He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn. He slammed his fist against the countertop.

Chez found himself once again part of Mac's lunch group. With Mac around so often, it was natural that Chez and he would become acquaintances. Today the lunch group was a total of seven people, which had become a common occurrence when Mac was there. Where Mac went, others followed. At first it was jarring, but gradually even Chez admitted that lunch was more enjoyable when there were people around to laugh and talk with. He started to look forward to these bursts of merriment.

"Oh shit!" one of the lunch members exclaimed.

A soft drink doused Chez, staining his shirt. The guy didn't blink, his stunned expression mirroring Chez's. He stumbled over his apologize while Jeff grabbed a stack of napkins and sopped up the liquid to keep it from spreading further. Everyone at the table grabbed more napkins to do the same. However, Mac grabbed napkins and blotted at Chez's shirt.

"It's fine." Chez insisted.

"No, it's not," Mac frowned. "You're all wet. You can't wear wet clothes all day." Chez froze; his stomach dropped.

"I've got a sweatshirt in my gym locker," said the guy whose drink Chez was wearing. Mac told him to go get it, but before the guy could depart, Chez stopped him.

"I'm already finished with classes today. So, I'll just head home and change. Thanks anyway." He slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his tray, and left.

"Shit. It was an accident, I swear," said the guy. Mac watched Chez disappear from the cafeteria.

"I know. I don't think he's mad at you."

A few days later, Mac found Chez in the library. He grabbed a seat at the table and for a few minutes the two exchanged pleasantries.

"I'm glad I ran into you today," Mac said, grabbing a wrapped item from his bag. He handed it to Chez, who unwrapped it with a curious frown. It was a new shirt.

Mac smiled. "I felt bad that your shirt was ruined. You won't be able to wear it again because of the stain, so I found a shirt that looked similar to the one you lost."

Chez rubbed his hands over the material. "Except this shirt is probably ten times more expensive than the one I lost." His scowl deepened. "It's a nice gesture, but I can't accept it." Chez wrapped the shirt up, careful not to wrinkle it, and pushed it across the table.

Mac was stunned. He tried to assure Chez that it wasn't a problem, besides it was his friend who had spilled the drink. But Chez still refused. It was too expensive. Mac sighed but would not be defeated.

"It's not my size, so you might as well keep it. If you want to pay me back, accompany me instead to this dim sum place I recently found. The food isn't expensive. And more importantly, I don't want to go alone." He pushed the shirt back towards Chez and held his breath.

Chez stared at it for a long minute before resigning. Mac was always kind, and Chez didn't want to disappoint him. "Fine."

Mac laughed, giddy with success. They arranged to meet outside the labs later that evening. Chez was unprepared when Mac rolled up in a car. He had known Mac was well off from his clothes and manners, but the car was more than Chez had expected. There was a moment where Chez hesitated, but at Mac's urging, he entered.

Mac told him the dim sum place was downtown and thus a bit far to walk. Chez didn't mind. It was his first time riding in such a nice car. The detailed leather seats were plush and soft like kid gloves. The color of the interior was camel and ruby.

Mac asked if he'd like something to drink, waving his hand over a compartment that slowly opened to reveal a stock of beverages. Chez felt overwhelmed by the hospitality. Mac was the perfect host.

They faced each other, and Mac explained in detail how he had found this place they were headed one night after getting lost with a date. She was pissed and the two had fought. Eventually, they figured it out, but by then, she just wanted to leave. They grabbed a cab but not before passing this little dim sum stall.

Stall was right, Chez realized. They parked down the street and walked the five minutes down an alley with blinking neon lights and several food stalls lined up along the street. The smell of the food was appetizing, and the sizzle of stoves and frying pans filled the air. The dim sum stall had a total of four seats for customers. Two seats were still available, and Mac exclaimed that they were lucky. He took a seat and hurried Chez to do the same before someone else slipped in.

They examined the menu written on a posterboard in black marker above the stall, both questioning what each of the items were, as neither had eaten dim sum before. They ordered a few dishes and eagerly awaited as each of their dishes began to appear. The dumplings were delicious. Each was more varied in flavor than the last and came with several dipping sauces. Mac ordered a pitcher of beer and the two drank and ate without a care.

The stall was positioned outside a smoke shop, between a tattoo parlor and bar. At some point in the evening, Chez had rolled his sleeves up revealing the red tattoo on his upper arm. Mac stared at it now.

He wondered out loud if he should get a tattoo, nodding his head towards the tattoo shop. The glow from the parlor cast shadows around it. The neon sign with a suggestive woman, beckoned onlookers to enter.

If it was important to him, Chez said, then he should get one. But he shouldn't do it if he was just trying to impress someone, or he'd end up regretting it. Mac turned back to his drink, keeping his thoughts hidden.

"Did you get yours to impress someone?" He asked after a few minutes.

Chez shrugged.

"Is it like fireworks or something?" Mac stared again at the red tattoo on Chez's upper arm.

"It's a Spider Lily." Chez seemed disinclined to discuss it.

Boisterous noise burst from the door next to the stall. A man was forcibly ejected from the bar and left to stumbled over his feet. Two other guys exited, protesting their friends' forced expulsion. The ejected fellow hollered at the bouncer that he would never come to their bar again.

Chez's face lit with recognition. He leaned forward and squinted, staring at the drunk. At the same time, the guy also noticed Chez.

"Chez," the drunk cooed, holding the vowel out as long as possible. Mac turned and noticed the heavily tattooed guy from the bathroom stumbling towards them. The man grabbed Chez by the shoulders, hugging him. "What a surprise."

"Jesus, Carlos." Chez braced the drunk, who stumbled and nearly took them both down.

Carlos lifted his gaze to Mac, his eyes barely focused, and belted one loud laugh. "No way! I heard the prince liked to slum it from time to time, but never thought I'd see it with my own eyes. Has his highness decided to dine among us?"

Carlos' two friends chuckled at their friend's antics but soon began debating which bar to choose next. Carlos waved them away like loud chickens, rubbing his head into Chez's shoulder and telling them not to upset his friend with all their talking. "Chez hates it when people talk too much," he slurred.

Chez slid Carlos' arm around his neck. "I think you've had enough to drink." He turned to Mac and said he'd better take Carlos home.

Carlos had closed his eyes, but he was sufficiently aware enough to protest. Chez insisted, reminding him he had a class in the morning. As it was, Carlos would already be attending it with a hangover.

He paid the bill and readjusted Carlos over his shoulder. Chez dragged him towards the street, telling the two friends they were grabbing an autoCab home. They waved, shouting their predictions for tomorrow's hangover, and lumbered towards a new bar, still laughing.

With each passing step, Carlos began to lean more heavily, causing Chez to almost stumble under the weight. Then Mac was beside them, grabbing Carlos' other arm, slipping it around his own shoulders, and taking on most of the weight himself.

"We'll use my car." Mac said.

The ride to the dorms was quiet. Mac glared out the window, not speaking. Carlos was propped up against the door, half asleep, mouth breathing and fogging up the window. Chez said nothing the whole ride as well.

Between the two of them, they got Carlos up to the third floor of the student dorms. They paused in front of a door, and Mac's frown deepened when Chez grabbed a key from his bag and opened the door.

The apartment was dark, but Chez navigated seamlessly through it, eventually arriving at Carlos' room. They arranged him on the bed, turning him so he wouldn't choke on his vomit in the night, and left. Chez flipped on the light in the common space. It was a kitchen living room combo. He thanked Mac for helping him with Carlos and led him towards the door.

Suddenly it clicked. "Carlos is your roommate." He stopped and waited for Chez to confirm.

Chez glanced over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised. "Who else would he be?"

Mac chuckled. "Nobody." He thanked Chez for treating him tonight and promised to return the favor. He was out the door and on the stairwell before Chez could remind him that they were even.

He closed the door, sighing. Chez headed to his own room and reflected on the night's events. Recently, he felt like he was becoming a part of something, even if just for a moment. This friendship that was developing between Mac and him felt both comforting and unnerving at the same time. He could almost feel the weight of Mac's eyes on him when Carlos had been in the car; it was unsettling.

Unlike the ride to the dim sum stall, Mac had been strangely quiet during the drive. Chez wondered if it had something to do with the "prince" comment from Carlos. It made sense; Mac didn't seem like the kind of person who liked being put on a pedestal, even in jest. And he was the one who always had to carry that persona with him, the one that came with all the rumors and expectations. Chez remembered how he had also used it the first time Mac had visited the convenience store.

Chez removed his jacket, revealing the new shirt Mac had given him. He wondered if Mac had noticed. He had rolled up the sleeves, afraid to get them dirty with dim sum sauce. Chez pulled the shirt over his head, feeling a small, unexpected comfort in its softness.

The shirt felt like a tangible connection between him and Mac. It was a gesture, one that didn't come with strings attached, or at least, that's what Chez hoped. It felt odd to admit but the discomfort that usually lingered when people did nice things for him was absent here.

Chez sighed again. Mac was a nice guy.

Meanwhile, across town, Mac lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He replayed the day over and over in his mind. Why did he care so much about Chez?

It wasn't just about befriending him, he realized. It was something deeper.

For the first time in a long while, Mac felt like he was losing control of the narrative. The way Chez had rejected the shirt, and the way his response had made Mac feel both frustrated and...oddly fulfilled at the same time.

Mac turned over, pulling the blanket over his head. The night stretched on, and Mac fell into a restless sleep. Mac smirked in the darkness. Chez had worn the shirt, so surely that was a good sign. Right?

The phone on the nightstand beside him rung. The sound of the AI assistant alerted him to the callers identity.

Call from: Dad

Mac gasped and his stomach dropped. He lurched towards the phone and caught it on the fourth ring.

"Dad?"