Sora was beyond desperate. He was so desperate, in fact, that he nearly got Charlie on the phone to call off the date. Logic caught up to him fast, though. If he did that, he was just admitting to Charlie that he knew Ray, and that Ray had the potential to ruin his life. He wasn't quite sure what Charlie would do with that information, but it couldn't be good.

And now he had a stage that night, all thanks to Charlie bailing for the date.

I need to bail, too, he realized. How could he work when Charlie was off on a date with his roommate? Charlie! God, Sora wanted to punch him in the nuts so badly. Instead of doing that, he called up dancers who had contracts with Ambrose and tried to get one to cover for him.

He spent the morning on his way to class making calls and borderline-begging for someone to fill his stage. When that was sorted out, he called up Ambrose to confirm the changes.

"Hey, just wanted to let you know that I won't be filling Charlie's stage tonight," Sora said, and gave the name of the dancer who would be filling the stage.

Ambrose sighed and said, "Alright, I'll put it on the schedule. You two really have to stop giving me the run-around on this shit."

"Hey, I rarely ask off," Sora insisted, and he could practically hear Ambrose rolling his eyes. "And if anything you can thank Charlie for this. That rat bastard is going on a date with my roommate so I gotta be on high alert."

"Well, have fun with that. I'll see you tomorrow," Ambrose said, and hung up.

Sora put his phone in his lap, relief lulling through him on the bus seat. His expectations for that day had dramatically shifted, and it left his brain exhausted before the day could begin.

Sora sat through studio with his eyes trained on his professor. Every so often, his scowl unintentionally gravitated towards the back of Ray's head. He wanted to throw something at him. Maybe a pen? Sora wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was so damn pissed that Ray was even into 22-year-olds. Why did Ray set his Tinder age-range to 22?

For a brief stint there, Sora had set his Tinder to 22... Maybe a 22-year-old had a full-time job! It'd be great if he didn't have to pay for dates, if he was being honest... But that didn't change the fact that they were freshmen and Charlie—were he in university—would be graduating.

Sora shook his head. It was hypocritical of him to scorn Ray for this when he, himself, had a crush on Charlie no more than a year ago.

Studio ended, and Sora didn't realize it until he saw Ray packing up. Sora hastily slung his backpack over his shoulder and stood, keeping Ray's spiky black hair at the corner of his eye. He followed at a great distance—at least half of the class between them upon exiting—and continued at that distance out of the building and down the sidewalk.

Ray was walking with Huey, who had the build of a goddamn gymnast—stocky, buff, but with a narrow waist and, oddly enough, defined calves. It was easier, though, to keep his eyes on Huey since the guy stood a whole head taller than Ray.

At the lights, Ray paused to wait for the crosswalk and waved farewell to Huey, who slapped him on the back. Sora heard the distant, "Good luck on your date!" before Huey jogged off towards the USFC track arena.

Sora slowed at the corner of the street. They were across the road from the parking structure, just a block away from his bus stop, and Sora cursed internally. Ray had a car. Sora couldn't follow Ray in a car—unless—

Ray let out a startled scream, slapping a hand to his chest. Sora looked at him as Ray gasped out, "God, you scared me. I didn't know you were standing there."

Sora huffed and glared down the sidewalk, back in the direction of the studio building. Their classmates weren't around, but there were plenty of sophomores and juniors lingering at this time of day.

They waited in silence. Ray picked at his nails, anxiously, as the adjacent walk sign ticked 3... 2... 1...

They started to cross.

Ray glanced hesitantly at Sora before skipping ahead—Sora had said that he didn't want to be seen with Ray, so Ray decided to respect that boundary. He walked ahead at a brisker pace, and Sora followed at his heels. When two footsteps echoed in the concrete structure, Ray glanced over his shoulder and found Sora a few paces back, arms crossed, annoyed.

Ray hurried a little more. He reached his car at a jog, and after ducking into the driver's seat, Ray put his head to the wheel and thought about how, the last time he had seen Sora in the parking structure, Sora had been spotted pulling a cigarette out of the mouth of some attractive stranger.

Maybe he's seeing that person again? Ray wondered. He gasped a little, bolting upright. Maybe his date the other night was with that person!

The passenger door opened.

Ray froze in fear of a complete stranger hopping into his vehicle, only to relax when he recognized Sora's glasses. The instant he let his guard down, though, he was squeaking again at the realization that Sora was in his car.

"Wh-What are you doing!" Ray cried, heat blooming in his cheeks. "I-I thought—um—you said—"

"You're going to the apartment, right?" Sora said, and if Ray wasn't, Ray felt like Sora might maim him. He would have lied and said he was, if that was the case.

"Y-Yeah—"

"Same. Might as well drive me there, too," Sora said, and punctuated the statement by buckling his seatbelt. Sora was supremely relieved that Ray was even going back to the apartment. The situation would have been far more awkward then.

Sora crossed his arms as Ray set the car in reverse and backed out of the spot, a slim smile on his lips. In his triumph, Ray couldn't hold back the shit eating grin on his face. Sora wanted to carpool from campus and by God, Ray would deliver.

"So..." Ray started, a pleased hum in his voice. "How's your day?"

"We've literally had the same day so far."

"But, like... do you work tonight?"

"Yeah, I work tonight," Sora lied.

"You never mentioned where you work—"

"I work at a bar," he said, and it was as close to the truth as he could get.

Ray wanted to slap himself. A bar! That was why Sora had such weird hours! He'd have to report back to Leo and Huey and offer it as a suggestion for Sora's place of work. Here he had been picturing Sora in scrubs working a night shift at a retirement home.

"As, like... a bartender?"

"Why're you so interested?" Sora said, and Ray shrugged.

"I don't know. I mean, we live together. I guess I should know a bit about you."

"Yeah, well, I could say the same for you," Sora huffed, and Ray wondered if the guy was serious about that. He blushed, just a little, and it was quickly stamped out by Sora muttering, "Definitely not interested to know, though."

"Geez, okay," Ray grumbled as he made a right turn down their street. "If you ever do want to know—about me, I mean—I'm an open book. Just ask."

"I won't," Sora said. He glanced at Ray and said, "Ask, I mean."

Ray's shoulders slumped. He felt like a slug. "No need to be mean about it..." he said.

He pulled the car into the lot behind the building and, once there, parked the vehicle and shut the car off. Ray was busy fetching his guitar from the back seat, so Sora beat him to the door and didn't hold it for him. Ray ran up to the door just as it shut and locked, and Ray groaned furiously—wasn't it common courtesy to hold doors for the next person?

Ray wrestled with the keys in his pocket, juggling his backpack in one hand and his guitar case in the other, just before the door peeked open. Ray grabbed the handle viciously and swung the door open. Sora turned away, looking like a smug cat after having knocked something off of the counter.

"That was evil of you," Ray commented.

"I like to keep people on their toes," Sora said.

As they walked up the two flights of stairs, Sora considered what the odds were that Ray would be taking off in his car again. He supposed he could order an Uber and attempt to follow him, but that required too much coordination. Instead, he decided on an alternative course of action.

He waited for Ray to open the door to the apartment, since the guy already had his keys in hand. He leant his shoulder against the wall, crossed his arms, and said, "So where are you and Charlie going for the 'date'."

Ray rolled his eyes and mimicked Sora's air-quotes. "There's no 'date' about it. This is a real, honest-to-God, Date."

"Whatever."

"And I think we're going to the movies. Avatar II is playing," he explained, and waltzed inside. Sora got his phone out and started researching movie theaters in the area. "But Charlie lives sorta close to here so he's stopping by real quick. I won't bring him into the apartment, though! I swear—"

Sora startled at the absurd plan Ray and Charlie came up with. It was one thing to organize something like this with Charlie, but had Ray met with a complete stranger? Sora didn't want to even consider it.

"Okay, no, dude—you can't just give your address out to first dates on Tinder," he said as he slipped his shoes off in the entryway. Ray pouted at him from the foyer archway, slipping his bags off of his shoulders.

"He doesn't know our apartment number," Ray reassured him, but Sora just shook his head.

"Number one rule of dating on Tinder: Let someone know where you're going, when you get there, and when you leave. This is basic shit, dude," Sora said, and Ray groaned and relented.

Ray left to his room as Sora migrated back to the kotatsu. He sat in his favorite spot—with his back to the window, so when the sun did decide to show itself, it warmed his back while his legs were made toasty under the comforter.

He certainly didn't expect Ray to come out with a slip of paper detailing his phone number and an itinerary for the date. Sora looked up from it, startled, and Ray crossed his arms, cheeks puffed out as if Sora had twisted his arm into giving him this information.

"There. Just... text me or something so I have your number," Ray said.

Sora picked up the paper and would have questioned why Ray decided to pick Sora as his Safety Contact... but circumstances depended on Sora having this information.

Ray seemed to get the idea, though, and blushed profusely. "Th-This is only because we live together! A-And you'd know for sure that I made it back alive, so—you know—I—"

"I get it, Casanova, chill out," Sora said as he got his phone out and typed in Ray's number. He sent a knife emoji over.

Ray's phone buzzed in his pocket. When he looked at it, that flustered, annoyed expression evaporated from his face. Ray smiled and managed a firm nod—yes, this would do—and left back to his room.

Sora sat anxiously through Ray's intermediary limbo. With nothing to do between class and Ray's date, the guy holed himself up in his room and started playing melodies on Melvin 2.0. Sora tried to concentrate on an essay due in two weeks but couldn't, not when Charlie's smug mug kept fading in and out of focus like an after image on his optic nerve.

He pulled his knees up under the kotatsu comforter and sighed. This semester was turning out to be a nightmare, and he could blame it all on the idiot asshole who scammed him.

And then, Ray emerged.

Ray flew out of his room like a bat out of hell. He lunged off of the steps and landed with a thud, skidding across the wood floor on his socks. Sora nearly had a heart attack watching this guy slide across the room, arms flung out to steady himself.

As soon as he stilled motion, Ray whispered, "He's here."

Fuck, Sora thought, eyes wide as Ray scrambled for the street window. Sora slid out from under the kotatsu and peered out the window, to the street below, where a familiar black sunhat blocked Charlie's blonde hair from view.

"How do I look?" Ray said.

"You asked me this morning—"

"Right! Thanks—I'll see you later! Or not, 'cause you work—right, sorry. Okay, bye!" Ray took off running to the foyer as Sora sat, motionless, at the window. He looked back down at Charlie, who stood beside the curb on his phone, hip cocked to one side, looking elegant as ever.

Sora snuck closer to the window to see a glimpse of the front door swinging open. Ray bounded out, peppy and smiley and, to Sora's horror, went in straight for a hug.

Sora bashed his forehead into the window. Jesus Christ—this guy has a death wish.

Instead of snapping Ray's neck as Sora predicted Charlie to do, the guy took half a second to respond to the hug. When he did, he wrapped one arm around Ray's torso and gave him a brief hug. The heathen had the audacity to pull a Smooth Move on Ray by turning it into a side hug and walking them both down the sidewalk like they were a goddamn couple or some shit. Like this wasn't their first date.

The moment they turned the corner, Sora realized, Oh, right, I'm supposed to be following them.

He tripped getting to his feet, heart racing. He hoped to God Charlie wasn't open about his career choice the way he was when they hung out. The amount of stripper jokes Charlie was capable of was unreal.

Sora dove into his closet, scrambling for the top shelf where he had a line of mannequin heads single-handedly holding up his wig collection. He grabbed the nearest one—black hair, conspicuous, just right for the job—and thanked his odd profession for prompting him to buy it. He could also thank his odd profession for his inability to trust de Lucía.

As Sora took the first bus to the theater, Ray invited Charlie into his car and said, "You know, this is my first Tinder date."

"That's cute," Charlie said. He ducked into the car, removing his hat as he went, and leant an elbow against the center console. "That surprises me."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're so fucking cute? I don't really know," he scoffed, and Ray turned bright red. Charlie gestured towards his face and said, "Proving my point right there."

"Th-There's nothing cute about blushing! I hate being so blush-able," Ray whined, rubbing at his cheeks.

He put the car into drive as Charlie cackled, slipping lower into the seat until his knees touched the dashboard and his hands rested on his stomach. He looked at Ray's profile, at the way Ray's lips pouted comically and the soft curve of his nose crinkled up with it. Ray glanced at him, and Charlie looked away, propping an elbow up on the edge of the window. He grinned to himself and decided that it was fun teasing de Lucía.

They, of course, arrived at the theater first. Sora's bus arrived five minutes later, and when it did, he made quick work of purchasing his ticket under the light of the marquee sign. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited, thinking, Come on, come on, they're in there! I just know it, as his eyes traveled across every face stepping even remotely close to the theater.

He leant to the side, peering into the building as the worker passed his ticket under the window and said, "Here you go. Second theater on the left."

Sora snatched it without a word. He turned and ran immediately into some tall asshole in a suit.

"Watch it!" Sora snapped, only to stutter at the sight of those ridiculous puny sunglasses on David's oversized noggin. "D-David!"

David hissed, raising a finger to his lips. "Quiet! I'm undercover."

Sora looked him up and down and said, "You look the same as you do every day. Do you even know what undercover means?"

David ushered Sora out of the way of the doors, where customers were waltzing in for the tail end of the commercials. They had another few minutes to spare before the movie started, and Sora didn't want to risk one of them leaving the theater to grab a snack before the feature film—it increased the chances of them seeing him.

And now with Mr. Beanpole here, their level of Conspicuous just plummeted.

"You couldn't at least wear, I don't know, a hoodie?" Sora snapped.

David flattened a hand over his tie, appalled. "You never know when you're networking."

"You're a bartender," Sora snapped.

"Yeah, and you're wearing a wig. Wait, why are you wearing a wig?" David said, squinting at Sora's now black hair.

Sora put his hands to the wig, frowning as he checked to make sure all bits of bleach were covered. With a scoff, he turned away and said, "Stop changing the topic. Why are you even here."

At this, David clammed up and looked vaguely around for an answer. He pointed to the Avatar II poster and said, "Going to catch a movie."

"Who goes to the movies alone!"

"You do, apparently! Don't pretend like you aren't holding a ticket for one," he snapped, and Sora could have ripped his ticket in two.

It didn't take a genius to put two-and-two together. Not only that, but the pink dusting David's cheeks said it all. Sora had his suspicions about the guy, but stalking Charlie's Tinder date was where he drew the line between Subtle and Obvious.

Sora propped his hands on his hips and teased, "You're here because Charlie's on a date, aren't you?"

"So what if I am! I could ask you the same thing—"

"Yeah, and I'd reply that I'm stalking Charlie because he's on a date with someone in my major. I can't have him blurting out bullshit about working at the club—it might convince the guy to visit while I'm, you know—"

David quirked an eyebrow. "Working the pole?"

Sora wanted to strangle him so terribly, his fists clenched at the air in a feeble attempt to avoid throttling David's scrawny chicken neck.

"You rotten bastard," Sora seethed, and David smirked.

David waltzed into the theater while Sora resisted the urge to implode right there in the middle of downtown San Francisco. Instead of combusting, he marched after David, brow furrowed. He bought a goddamn Bunch-A-Crunch because fuck it, he was at the movies, for Chrissake, and he fucking deserved it.

He ripped open the plastic packaging with his teeth and fiddled with the cardboard opening. Once the top was open, he poured some into his mouth and munched on it on their way to the Avatar II theater.

David slurped on some soda and said, "Do you think the food was really necessary?"

"You don't want to see me hangry," Sora muttered. He tipped his head back and poured another handful of chocolates into his mouth as they stepped into the theater.

It was pitch black in there, all except for the screen illuminating the faces of twenty-or-so people. The two of them stilled in silence at the top of the steps—well, all except for Sora's crunching, that is. The two of them scanned the theater in search of Charlie's blonde hair—the most recognizable of the two. Ray just looked like a Chinese foreign exchange student looked at too many Hollister magazines for hair inspiration.

They both looked towards the back of the theater then—Sora's logic being that Charlie seemed like the type of guy to instigate back-of-theater make-out sessions.

Instead of finding Charlie and Ray, David and Sora paused at the sight of their boss sitting next to them in the aisle, his ankles crossed above the seat in front of him.

"Ambrose?" Sora hissed as quietly as possible, though he so desperately wanted to scream it.

Ambrose seemed unfazed. He rose an eyebrow, and that was all the acknowledgement they were getting.

Sora turned to David and asked, "Did you invite this motherfucker?"

"I- No, why would I?" David whisper-shouted.

Ambrose put a finger to his lips to silence them. Sora sneered at him, only to pause when Ambrose pointed at the section adjacent to them, near the middle, where Sora recognized Charlie's ridiculous, emo-as-fuck, black sunhat.

And there, sitting directly next to Charlie, was Ray's dumb ass.

"Shit," Sora whispered, jolting towards Ambrose's aisle.

He scrambled over Ambrose's legs and into the seat next to him before Ambrose even had a chance to fend for himself. He pushed his knee out to stop David, but David and his giraffe legs stepped right over them. David made a point to slurp his soda in Ambrose's face.

"Cocky bastard," Ambrose muttered, crossing his arms.

David took a seat on Sora's other side, only to lean over obnoxiously to scowl at Ambrose and said, "Where'd you even hear about this?"

"In case you forgot, he's bumming at my place," Ambrose whispered.

Someone in front of them turned to glare, and David raised a hand in apology. The instant the stranger turned back around, though, David was seething under his breath, "That's kind of scummy of you to stalk Charlie around when you're A) his boss and B) his landlord."

"You know how many psychopaths use Tinder as their hunting grounds? On top of that, I'm here as Charlie's boss—this guy could be a patron looking to—" Ambrose started, heated, and Sora hissed at both of them to shut the fuck up, God, this wasn't a cockfight.

"You're both moronic imbeciles," Sora seethed, slouching in his seat with just enough of a vantage point to catch sight of Ray whispering something into Charlie's ear, his eyes hidden behind the rim of Charlie's hat.

"What the fuck are you doing here anyway," David scoffed under his breath, folding his arms over his chest. Sora looked at him, and David gave him a smug side-eye.

"Not because I want to get in Charlie's pants like you two blundering idiots," Sora whispered, and David opened his mouth to argue. "I'm here because—"

Shit, he didn't think that far ahead. In fact, he didn't think he'd have to explain himself at all. He did, however, plan to intercept Charlie at some point to keep him from blurting out something about the club. If that was the case, he'd pretend to only know Ray.

Except... his excuse for being at work would be ruined in the process...

Sora propped his hand on his chin, deep in thought.

"Charlie's on a date with one of Sora's classmates," Ambrose whispered to David, and the relief that hit Sora upside the head could have knocked him unconscious.

"Yeah, and he can't know that Charlie's a stripper," Sora explained, rushed. "Because if my classmate knows, then he might go to Bandaids while I'm working and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get that," David whispered, only to point at Ambrose and said, "and what, exactly, makes you think a college student is a murderer—"

The person in front of them verbally hissed at them to shut the fuck or so help them... David apologized immediately, Sora put his head in his hand, and Ambrose sighed in annoyance.

Before they could completely settle into staring at the back of Charlie's head for two and a half hours, Ambrose leant over the armrest to Sora, who could feel his soul transcending from existence. "You didn't think any of this through, did you," Ambrose whispered.

"Not an ounce of it," Sora groaned miserably.

They sat through a total of half an hour of Avatar II, at which point Sora had depleted his stash of Bunch-A-Crunch and David was on the last of his soda, so all he could do was make annoying slurping sounds against the ice at the bottom of the cup. It was at this point that Ambrose put a hand out in front of Sora, effectively prompting all three of them to look in the direction of where Charlie's sunhat lifted.

Sora propped his elbow on the armrest between him and Ambrose and shielded his eyes. Ambrose looked away as Charlie shimmied out of the row. David slouched lower in his seat, soda positioned in front of his face.

Sora watched Charlie's shadow stretch as lights flashed on the screen, and he ascended the ramp up to the back of the theater. The shadow stilled. Sora glanced between his fingers, dread shriveling up his stomach like salt on a snail.

Charlie's stone-cold eyes rested on them in a silent order to step outside before punches could be thrown.

Sora groaned internally. Fuck me.