The majority of studies found that suicide rates lowered before and during the holiday season. One of the main fuelers of stress and depression is a lack of one's social identity. The holidays, if anything, increase social connection, for most. Luckily, holidays tend to be cheerful affairs. Therefore, suicide rates tend to decline during the holidays, disapproving the somewhat common myth that suicide rates increase during Christmas. Some theories conclude that suicidal individuals would feel worse taking their life around an instance where others happiness would be affected.

Christmas Day passed uneventfully, although it did bring snow, and it made Ryan pretty happy to give his parents the gifts he wrapped. I had asked him if he had any other gifts he needed to buy, and he had just simply answered 'no,' without further explanation. I didn't prod.

"Hey, Dallon," I jog to catch up to him as he walks toward the gray building. "Wait up!"

"Yeah?" He smiles, looking down slightly at me. The cold filling the air around us is slowly turning his ears red, and I'm sure my own ears easily mirror his. I love the way his body mirrors mine, in other ways as well.

"I was wondering if I could bring someone to work with me."

"To shoot?" He pulls open the door, allowing me in before him. I stomp the snow off of my boots onto the welcome mat in the short hallway before the door leading to the main office is. The door closes behind us and I instantly feel the warmth of the building enveloping me. "That's what I said- When uh- When he asked," I laugh. "But, no, not to shoot. He just wants to see. An observer."

"I don't see why not," he shrugs, but then turns to me, one of his long fingers pointed at me. "As long as it's just him, and he doesn't bring a camera or anything, you know the rules." I nod, "Yeah, I know." He lowers his hand and we sign in, just like every day. The start of the day is always the easiest. The end of the day, however, is definitely the worst. You're either tired from fucking, being fucked, or having to fucking clean up after it all. I find myself envying Jon more often than not. He's the one here with only the job of paperwork, lucky bastard.

•••••

Ryan has a day off again today, unless they call him in, but I hope they don't as we have plans today. Today is the day that I promised to take him with me to work. He insists that Dallon picks us up, as he wants the full experience. He's still confused as to how I kept this all secret from him. Dallon pulls up outside, and Ryan joyously hops from foot to foot as he follows me outside.

I'm hesitant about him meeting Dallon, as they're a bit... Different from each other. Knowing Dallon he might try to make a move on Ryan, or something. However, while the icy glare Dallon is giving Ryan is lost on Ryan himself, is isn't lost on me. I can feel the tension in the car as I sit in the backseat with Ryan. Dallon's knuckles are practically white as he grips the steering wheel.

Ryan can tell something is somewhat upsetting Dallon now, and he nervously reaches over to grab my hand.

If I let my eyes go out of focus momentarily, the milky white snow covering the cement of the sidewalks tends to blur into one long strip of white, with random pepper flakes of people thrown about it. Every so often there's even a vibrant neon color I've come to find is a traffic light, or a sign, if I focus my eyes. He continues on our way, and tends to make sharper turns than usual, and once we arrive, he takes a seemingly full pack of cigarettes from inside his jacket pocket. I had no idea he smoked, I'd never seen it until now, and paired with his cheery disposition he had in the car, I figure it's safe to assume something's upsetting him, but I don't know what. The red flame of the lighter easily stands out against the dismal colors of winter, in Chicago. It very literally serves as a type of a bright warning.

Once we begin walking up to the building, Dallon holds the door open for all of us, and tosses his cigarette beneath him, smashing it with the the heel of his shoe. I wish I could say it was a waste he had it so long, but it was nearing the end when we entered the door. Something must have really got to Dallon, finishing off a smoke so quick like that. I make a mental reminder to ask him what's wrong later.

Ryan is in certain awe at the building, and cheerfully introduces himself to Jon, shaking his hand with a strong grip. Jon looks somewhat bored with the whole ordeal, and Dallon and I just sign ourselves in quietly. Jon fills out a visitor sign-in for Ryan, just stating that he's in the building and that Jon has verbally informed him not to go tell all of Chicago where we're located, and that we don't follow every single rule or law we should. While I wait to sign myself in, I peer to the left of Dallon and watch him right. I'd say I peered over his shoulder essentially, but there's no way I'm tall enough to really look over his shoulders. Dallon's handwriting is darker than normal, and I swear he's trying to break that pencil. He doesn't manage, however, the pencil proves to be much too dull for him to snap.

The three of us walk together to the complimentary food bar, although there isn't much too eat, then to a couple of the sets we have at the main office here. "We're filming a scene at two, in this set," I voice to Ryan, using my finger to point to the nicer of the two sets. The same set that Dallon and I were on, except the furniture has been rearranged, and a couple pieces were switched out. Ryan's eyes go wide, and he gasps a little. I can tell he physically restrains his arms to hold them down, as I'm sure he wanted to cover his mouth with a single hand, as if he were in shock. I roll my eyes, "I'm on the crew for this one, not in the scene."

"Oh," he visibly exhales. No way they would -allow me to be in a scene right now, my skin is littered with incredibly visible love bites from a certain couple of people.

"I think Dallon's in this scene, though," I raise one of my eyebrows at Dallon. "Yeah," he replies stiffly. "Oh," Ryan says, slightly nervously, again. Dallon continues to stare at the set, leaning against the wall.

"Hey? Ryan, could you go to the front desk, and ask Jon for an extra script?" I ask him, since I'd love to be alone with Dallon right now. "Uh-"

"I wanna review the scene so I know when I'm needed to help," I faux explain.

"Yeah, of course," he says, and turns on his heels, leaning into his next move, but he doesn't yet move forward. "Um..."

"Straight forward, a right and a left."

"Awesome, thanks," he says and starts walking down the hall. "Alright," I say once Ryan's left. "What the hell?" I ask Dallon, with my palms raised in confusion.

"What?" He retorts, the one word as monotone as it could be. People have yet to flood the set since it's  still morning, and we have it all to ourselves. I lean against the wall on my left, and cross my arms. We mirror each other. "You've been upset, like, all morning. It's not that hard to tell," I say shaking my head slightly. "So, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he simply states. I scoff. "Oh, as if I believe that. 'Nothing,' my ass!" I raise my voice and kick off the wall with my shoulder slightly, so I'm standing. He still towers over me as he's leaning but I don't let it condone my words. "Why don't you ever just let people know?" I wouldn't usually be pushing someone so hard, but we've gotten closer as I've worked here, and he's had his dick up my ass and his tongue down my throat on multiple occasions, and I feel as if I have the right to know.

"'Cause if I let you in, no one says you have to care, and that would just be a waste of breath," he says stubbornly.

"Oh come on, just a straight answer for once would kill you, huh?" I raise my eyebrows challengingly. I dare him to not give me a straight I answer, I fucking dare-

"Maybe it would."

"Oh, for fuck sake!" Rolling my eyes, I throw my hands up in exasperation, and I hear Ryan clear his throat from the doorway, a new script in hand. "Oh- Thanks." I take the papers from him, and pretended to go over them as I slump my shoulders and lean on the walk again. "How long have you..?"

"I came in right in time to hear, 'Fuck sake!' but, uh, that's all..." He laughs nervously and I can tell he's confused, but I'll let him be, this is personal. Dallon still remains leaning on the wall as well, looking calm. It's all the indication I need to know he thinks he's won.

•••••

Currently I'm sitting on a hard wooden stool, and Ryan's sitting next to me on a hard wooden stool. The grunts spewing loudly from in front of both Ryan and I are pretty lost on me, but I can tell Ryan's hands in his lap aren't there just for fun. Luckily, I'm not the one keeping Dallon turned on in between scenes because I'm about fifty percent sure I'd bite his dick, and with every grunt he makes as some guy I've never seen before rides him, as if his life depends on it, mind you- I just get angrier. Also, I think Ryan might up and leave if he had to watch me suck some guys dick right now. He's still getting used to this all. He better hurry up, this is definitely a one time thing.

To be truthful, I'm not even exactly sure what the root of my anger stems from, I just know I'm mad. I could say it's because Dallon is keeping shit from me, but that shouldn't make me this angry.

Maybe it does. Maybe it does make me this angry, but he should be able to tell me things. I've only got two friends, three if you count Jon - which I don't - and he should be able to talk to me about what's pissing him off so much, I swear-

"Brendon?" The director, Pat or something, waves a hand in front of my face, expectantly. I'd know his name, but we often switch directors for a sense of a new style. Which, I personally, don't understand. A new style? All of these pornos are the same. It all ends, or begins, with sex.

"What?" I snap back, unaware of my angry tone. "They need more sweat on their backs, less on their necks and face." Yeah, of course, right away sir. I restrain the urge roll my eyes. Of course they need more sweat and less sweat. Why not? It's an art form, isn't it?

I sigh and pick up the rag, walking on set. I wipe whoever-the-fuck's bearded neck and face, quite roughly, and then I move on to Dallon's, barely doing my job. I don't want to touch him right now, he pisses me fuck off. I take the dumb spray bottle they have, and spray their backs. I rejoin a quiet Ryan on the wooden stools at the side, where we're careful not to speak as we don't want the recording to pick it up. Ruining a scene wouldn't be a good first day. Ryan's eyes are transfixed on the scene in front of him. This poor, poor closeted man. Immediately after I walk off the scene, the cameras shift over to one side, and different lights flicker on to accentuate distinct features. The crew is attentive to every move, the mic making sure to pick up every moan. It's weird how invisible these objects appear when you're actually in a scene. Now, I see it all. I see the mix, the camera, the director, the volunteer crew members who help clean the set afterwards just there so they have memories to jerk off to later. It's all there. It's always been there, never left. You just have to care to see it.

•••••

"Holy shit, that's a.... An invasive scent," Ryan remarks, and I laugh because I've grown so used to the smell of sex it's incredibly distant to me. "Yeah, it is, huh? I remember my first day," a drawl in a fake dreamy tone.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this before." He says, ignoring my remark, as we're sitting in the break room, waiting for Dallon to be done with his shower. I'm hopeful that his mood has lightened since he fucked that random guy, but it probably hasn't with my luck. "The smell? I guess I didn't think to mention it, 'cause I got so used to it."

"No, not the smell. Just, this, in general. You kept your job secret," he says slowly. "Yeah, I was embarrassed." I admit.

"You don't have to keep anything from me, you know? I won't tell anyone. You can trust me, alright?" He looks into my eyes, and he looks pretty trustworthy. I nod, just as Dallon enters the room. He's found sweatpants and a t-shirt to change into, and he's toweling his damp hair. "Hey," he says, letting the towel drop around his neck, keeping the water from his hair running down his back.

"Hey," both Ryan and I return, and I give him a small wave. He sits down next to Ryan and I at the small table. "How was the, uh, experience?" I'm surprised he's taking to Ryan, but it's a good thing. Definitely a good thing.

"It was fun!" Ryan says, enthusiastically, grinning at Dallon. "That's good," Dallon replies, with much less of a smile, but there's still a small friendly smile there.

"I'm done for the day," he says, and Ryan and I stay quiet for a moment. "Me too," I add, glancing at the clock. Six thirty, in the evening.

"We should go out to dinner, or something?" I'm genuinely, completely, surprised when Dallon offers, but I agree with him, as well as Ryan, who looks as surprised as I am.

"I'll drive," Dallon smiles.

•••••

Ever since we got into the car, I've been trying to study Dallon, to see what improved his mood so much. He's happier now, he seems determined, he's polite to both Ryan and I. Maybe he really did just need to get laid.

Dallon holds the door open for both Ryan and I, and we step inside the cozy diner. The lighting is a warm yellow that warms the room, and immediately I regain warmth in the ends of my fingertips, and in my freezing toes.

"Three?" Asks the large, rather hairy, man from behind the front desk. "Yep," I say, stepping forward to lead our trio as we follow the man, into a rather secluded dark back corner of the diner. I don't dimly lit by the yellow atmosphere, but it still carries that cozy feeling that spreads throughout the diner. "Booth alright?"

"Yeah, that's perfect," Dallon interjects before I have a chance to say anything, but it's alright, I was going to say it's fine as well. I slide into the side nearest me, and Dallon scoots next to me, leaving Ryan to the other side of the table. "I'll be back with menus," the same man from earlier says as he speeds off to the kitchen.

I look down at Dallon's legs once we've gotten situated, and I can't seem to stop the giggle that slips from my mouth. "What?" Dallon asks, feeling my eyes on his legs. "Your legs," I laugh out, taking a breath back in before continuing. "They- They almost don't fit," I giggle again. Dallon sighs, and hides his laugh the best I can, while Ryan freely laughs with me.

I look through my menu, briefly. I've never been here before, I can't really afford to go it and eat all the time, so this is a rare treat. Although you'd think since this is such a rare occasion, I'd enjoy looking through the vast selection, it just kind of overwhelms me. So many combos, so many choices. I look up and Ryan and Dallon have set their menus down already, having decided on what they'll be getting.

"Alright! Hello, I'm Rob, I'll be your waiter tonight, are we ready to order?" I almost jump, and I hadn't seen him coming. I was too busy trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to order. Ryan looks around the table quickly for confirmation, and Dallon nods his head to signal he's ready, and I nod my head in defeat.

"I'll have the, uh, C2." Ryan says, and Dallon adds, "I'll have the F3, please." Now it's my turn, and they all turn to me. "Um," shit, what did they order? Shit, shit- "I'll get what he's getting, please," I rush out, jabbing my thumb in the direction of Dallon on my right. Rob nods and writes down our orders in his notepad, without further question. I gather everyone's menus and hand them to him can reaching past Dallon. "Thank you, food will be out shortly."

Ryan takes off his jacket, and lays it in the empty space of his booth, and I mimic him except I just like it in the corner of free space Dallon and I have. Luckily, the booths are large as Dallon follows our lead and hands me his jacket to place with mine. "Alright, well, I'll be right back," Ryan states as he gets up, in the direction of the bathroom.

I jolt, my head moving up instantly when I feel a squeeze on my upper thigh. Dallon's warm breath on my neck. "You didn't tell me when you were bringing someone, that someone was your boyfriend." His grip on my thigh loosens, and he lets his hand explore slightly higher. I keep my head forehead, and my eyes trained on the glass of water that sits on the wooden table in front of us. Luckily the tablecloth shields Dallon's hand from anyone who could see. Unfortunately the tablecloth wasn't on my side, I guess. "He's- he isn't my boyfriend," I stammer. Dallon retreats from his offensive position next to my ear however his hands remains. "Oh? Just friends then?"

"Just friends." His hand begins to hover closer to my cock, and I try to scoot away, but it's like I can't, like he has some kind of steel grip. More like some sort of steel effect on me. I nod, in response. "Just friends."

"Oh? 'Just friends' who stare at each other when they think they're being sneaky? Just friends when you can't take your eyes off of him? You plan to tell me," he lays his hand between my legs, fully, and the warmth alone, feels amazing. I whimper slightly, holding in a soft moan. "Dallon," I warn.

"You plan to tell me," he repeats, "you aren't interested in being more than friends with him, but you give him those looks?"

"Well- I- I mean, I asked... Once. He wasn't ready, or something," I mumble quietly to the forest green napkin placed on top of the old table directly in front of me. "Wasn't ready?" He scoffs. "Yeah, I guess," my words quiet against the already queued atmosphere of the diner. "Does he not realize how lucky he is to have you give him those looks? With those fucking gorgeous brown eyes?"

"I-" I'm cut off by Ryan sitting back down at the table, but I'm glad to be cut off, I have no idea what I'd say, I'm just confused. Dallon's hand slips from its former position, tracing down to my knee where it seemingly finds comfortable enough.

"Sorry that took a lot longer than I thought," Ryan sips his water slowly, the ice clinking around in the glass innocently, as if they hadn't heard the conversation that ensued the moment Ryan had left. "They were these two guys in there, and, get this," he pauses, raising his hands to hold us at that thought while he adds suspense. "They were like, up against the wall, you know. And they like, okay, like, the one guy had his pants down to his knees, right? And the other has his to his like-"

"One C2, Two F3's for the table," Rob smiles and sets the plates down accordingly, leaving as quick as he came by. Ryan blushed slightly, unsure wether or not the waiter managed to hear any bits of his story. "Alright well, basically," his voice audibly lower now, "they were totally fucking in the bathroom, like right there. In public! Can you believe that? It's like the maniacs got off on it or something, I swear," he cuts into the meat on his plate.

"Yeah," Dallon agrees, sounding sincere, while I'm all the more aware of his hand on my knee before he moves it to pick up his silverware. "Disgusting, huh?" All implied sarcasm missing from his tone, rather ironically, but if only if he hadn't known.

"I don't know about disgusting, but definitely different," Ryan says. I nod to indicate I'm listening, which is, admittedly, mostly a lie.