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Once you choose Hope, everything is possible.
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[outfit]

Let’s be honest, being a bartender was never his dream job. Clubs, alcohol and people sniffing something in the bathroom in between songs was what he actually knew quite well as he was doing pretty much the same after work. Maybe minus drugs, at least not so often, as getting addicted was the last thing he needed. Still, having fun and being on the other side of the bar were two different things and after another, really crazy night, he had so fucking enough of all of that. The moment another drunk client grabbed his butt and pinned him to the wall, he kicked him in the balls and decided to quit immediately. He didn’t even care about the payment nor anything, just wanted to get out of there very fast. He went out without saying goodbye to anyone and now was searching for some cigs in front of the club. Getting a booze was his next goal but first, he had to leave this place. Preferably before the drunk dude with balls in pain would find him to get revenge. - Fuck this… And where’s the fucking lighter? - he mumbled, searching through the pockets of his jacket. It was freaking cold at 2AM and he had no idea where to go now. He only recently started renting a room in a flat but his flatmate was a fucking weirdo so the thought of going back there made him sick. But so was going back to grandma. Don’t get him wrong, she was a lovely woman… If somebody liked nasty witches. Tate could usually handle her temper but not tonight when he was so pissed off. And what would he tell her? That he failed once again? Smoking angrily, he started walking faster till he found an open shop where he bought some booze. As much as he wished for nothing but peace, it wasn’t the end of adventures for tonight.
- Yah! What the fuck? - he was casually drinking on the street when he noticed from afar that some dude was threatening a guy with a knife. Not on his angry watch. Would he normally react so boldly? Probably, as he had no instinct of self-preservation. And what he did? Well, Tate had many talents. When he was young, his father asked him to choose some sport and so he chose archery. And now it resulted with a perfect hit from a few meters, right into the assaulter’s head. Enough force to blow him off his feet for a moment. - Don’t move, motherfucker… You, run! - he grabbed the boy by his hand and started running away. Luckily he was familiar with this area so they managed to escape. - Wait, wait, wait… I smoke too much, I can’t breathe… - or maybe he was just getting old, lol. After stabilizing his breath, he looked at the guy he saved. - You okay, man? Did he hurt you? Jeez, that wine was really good… Did you see how I knocked him down?! It was fucking awesome - and he was so proud of himself. His eyes widened when he heard some noise not so far away. He pushed the guy he was with on the wall and put his hand around his mouth, showing him with the other one to stay quiet.

Peter Collins
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My thoughts are in the deep, they're so low everyone's gone I'm alone, it's a solo my life's on repeat, as if in slow-mo and the piano and minor key are with me
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Wandering on the streets at night was never a problem for Peter because he was usually in a group of his “friends” yet since he met Renley his point of view completely changed as he started noticing how bad he was. Not only to everyone around him but also to his own self. It took him some time to understand what he did to Max and he hated himself for that, he hated that his parents were never there for him to shower him with love and to show him what person he should be. He didn’t expect much from his father as he wasn't a good person either but from his mother.. William was always telling him how good of a person she is and how much she loves Peter yet he didn’t want to listen to any of this. He was angry and upset with both of them that he completely lost his real self. Because this.. the changed Peter Collins was real, not the bully, buying himself friends with money.
He was okay with being alone though as he somehow felt that this was his punishment for all the pain he caused to people he hurt. What was not okay was to wander around some sketchy places at night, dressed up in designer clothes and a Rolex on his wrist. Of course he brought the attention of some random guy who decided to jump on him with a knife and oh he wasn’t prepared for this. — Listen man, I don’t want any trouble and I believe you don’t want them too. There’s cameras everywhere here, if you— woah woah, chill chill. — Putting his hands up, he took a step back when the guy abruptly started to walk towards him. — What do you want? Seriously.. this? — He was struggling to take off his watch as his hands were shaking like crazy and he was ready to give it away, everything actually just to make him go. What he didn’t expect was someone else to intervene like in some action movie. With shocked expression he followed the guy, running fast. — Are you okay, dude? Breathe slowly.. — He looked at him worriedly as he held his arm just in case he was going to faint. — No, he didn’t hurt me.. thanks to you. I owe you a lot.. probably my life. Yeah, that was dope, you’ve got nice aim. How can i rep— — He didn’t have a chance to finish as he was pushed on the wall and as the noises increased he took his hand of his mouth and turned them around, pushing his saviour on the wall, kissing him right on the lips.
Tate Lynch
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A lot of things that were happening in his life seemed like from an action movie but he’d never expected to experience yet another one just an hour after he had quitted his job. Tate didn’t have a chance to take a closer look at the guy he saved but it didn’t matter, he’d save anyone from such a situation and not just a handsome guy (even though when he played with people in some card game and there was a question if he’d rather save one pretty baby or hundred ugly babies his answer was to save the pretty one cause world has enough of ugly people already). No regrets tho. About both, saving the dude and not saving a hundred ugly babies. - What are yo-?! - as much as he tried to oppose, he felt the stranger’s lips on his and for a moment he forgot that they were actually on the run from some crazy thief slash potential street murderer. For some reason kisses always put him on default. - Dude, what’s with the homo shit?! - he hit the guy lightly on the forearm (in a stereotypical gay way), lurking from behind his companion to check if they were safe. No sign of a soul but there was still something weird in the air. - Is that how you always repay people when they save you? Call me in case of troubles - a small wink from Tate the Rescuer. Only now, in the light coming from the street lamp could he see whom he actually saved. Designers' clothes, styled fashionably, good hair, handsome face… But something was odd. - Wait, are you ten? - he had such a fresh, young face. Not a ten but he bet that boy was still at school. - Momma knows you’re outta home? - Tate caught his cheek and pulled it lightly. - Oh crap, he’s coming back… We better run or else I’d have to hit him with your Balenciaga sneakers - and they were worth more than their lives. Or at least Tate’s one.

Peter Collins
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My thoughts are in the deep, they're so low everyone's gone I'm alone, it's a solo my life's on repeat, as if in slow-mo and the piano and minor key are with me
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It was an impulse to kiss the guy but he couldn’t think about anything else that could save their asses and make them well invisible since both of them were wearing black. Luckily the spot they were hiding in didn’t have any lights so even if he checked from far he wouldn’t see shit. If he got closer.. that could be a different story. And although he didn’t plan on kissing the guy, he himself forgot about the whole world at the softness of his lips as he moved his own, before he came back to normal reminding himself that he wasn’t his hook up or anything but his saviour. — Shit—ouch— sorry I didn’t mean too. It was the only thing that came to my mind. — He lowered his voice as he caught himself speaking a little bit too loud. He was never good at being quiet actually. But this time he had too if they wanted to get out from here alive. — What? — He furrowed his eyebrows, catching up a few seconds later. A small smirk appeared on his face. — Chicks telling me I’m eleven. — once again he smirked, placing his hand above a stranger's head but once he caught he asked about his mom and caught his cheek he understood it wasn’t about him being good looking but about him being another time, fucking YOUNG. His life is a nightmare. And he started moving his hands crazily around his face to shoo this guy's hand away. He was super angry! He was done with being so young. And he will come back to this conversation once they’re far away from danger. — Come this way.. oldie. — Mumbling, he pulled a stranger's hand, storming out in a completely different direction, running as fast as they could and as long as they finally were able to lose this guy. Once they stopped, he pushed his hand away. — Do you need a wheelchair grandpa?
Tate Lynch
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It came as a surprise but Tate wasn’t angry about the kiss or anything like that. - I mean, it was a great kiss, really… But someone else might have kicked your butt for that - not Tate tho, he had nothing against kissing strangers. Unless they were pretty, of course. He wasn’t shallow or anything but why would he kiss someone ugly without any feelings? Exactly. Wait, did that guy actually start flirting with him when he asked him about his age? Unbelievable. - Still pretty illegal to me - he smiled mischievously. Obviously the boy was more than eleven, in both terms of age and being attractive. But it wasn’t time for checking if they could have a quickie yet, as they were still endangered and had to find some safe space. Tate didn’t want to call the police, they were fucking useless anyway. - Yah, who do you call oldie?! - he pouted but let the stranger lead the way. Even though he hated running, he had no other choice this time. He used to have a very good condition in the past when he was an athlete but once he switched to partying, his organism started ageing pretty fast. And now he was on the brink of death having troubles with catching his breath, fucking humiliating. Tate wasn’t ready to die yet. He had to wear a better outfit for that occasion at least. - Do you need a wheelchair grandpa? - he mumbled mockingly before hitting the dude. - I’m 23 you asshole, you wish you looked this good at my age… Do you think we lost him? - he really hoped so cause another marathon would definitely be his last one. - So… You’re okay, Eleven? No need to go to the hospital? - he studied him quickly, mostly focusing on the handsome face. This eleven guy could be very hot at fifteen or so.

Peter Collins
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My thoughts are in the deep, they're so low everyone's gone I'm alone, it's a solo my life's on repeat, as if in slow-mo and the piano and minor key are with me
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— Well, you’re right. I’m sorry I just tried to cover us so he wouldn’t see shit. — Now it was his time to pout as he didn’t think about it this way in the first place. There was no doubt he should’ve been better after that one time with Renley when he was preparing meals for them. Glad this guy wasn’t mad at him for crossing the lane after literally fine minutes of knowing him. Still.. it didn’t stop him with being flirty, this guy here was very attractive and once again if Peter was older they would’ve been probably kissing again but nah, he had to be seventeen fucking years old. What a nightmare, what a nightmare. — There’s no word illegal in my dictionary. — If he were the emoji, he would be the one angry one with smoke going out from his nose. Although this guy seemed to be fun around as the smile he gave him was far from being upset about this whole kiss. — You. — Sticking out his tongue, he led them slower now since they’ve lost this guy. He could see they were closer to places where you could actually see people outside the pubs or just strolling around. Although he looked worriedly at him again. He wasn’t good at saving lives so this guy better stay alive. — You’re gonna break your hand if you’re going to hit me so much. — Peter giggled but touched the spot this guy hit with a small pout. — True, you look younger than me and I’m 17, a couple months from being 18 by the way. — He looked around and didn’t see anyone. — Yeah, I think we did. Let’s just get there, closer to people. Without running or you’re really gonna need a wheelchair. Do you need help or anything? I can carry you if you want. — Moving his eyebrows, he smiled cheekily. — Let me see.. — Pulling his shirt up, he looked at his stomach. — Seems pretty untouched to me, what do you think? — He winked at the guy. — You’re drooling.
Tate Lynch
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- Why are you sorry? I’m not mad and it was actually a wise move, like in the movies - he wasn’t offended at all. Maybe if this guy was 70 and ugly then he’d choose to get stabbed but he was young and handsome so he didn’t care. It’s not like they had to get married now, it was just a stupid kiss, nothing deep. - Oh, looks like we use the same dictionary - he winked, smiling. Tate never played by the rules unless they were reasonable or the ones he came up with. - Asshole, that’s how you treat someone who saved your life? Unbelievable, maybe I should bargain with that dude to see which of you give me a better offer - tho something was telling him the thief slash murderer wouldn’t like to sit and discuss. Now that they were closer to people, he felt the level of adrenaline slowly dropping. - I found some coupons on Groupon for medical assistance so don’t worry about that - Tate hit him once more. - You said it like an advertisement. Am I supposed to buy you or what? - he giggled. Eighteen? Well, at least once he guessed the age more or less correctly. - Oh hell no, I’m getting closer to people, I have enough of them for today. But I can get you an Uber so I know you get home safely… More or less - as the stories from Uber were sometimes terrifying. - Okay, maybe I’ll go with you to make sure you get there safely - yeah, he saved him so he should finish the job. - You wouldn’t be able to carry me, I’m heavier than I look - he had some muscles tho they weren’t visible at the first sight. And he could say the same about the kid whose stomach had some nice muscles already. - Yeah, a virgin stomach. I’m not drooling, what the fuck? - another hit on an arm. - Call me when you’re eighteen, I might consider drooling then.

Peter Collins
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My thoughts are in the deep, they're so low everyone's gone I'm alone, it's a solo my life's on repeat, as if in slow-mo and the piano and minor key are with me
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— Yeah but still, if I wouldn’t apologize you would probably hit me again. — He looked very offended and slapped his arm too because hello? What were all the slaps for? — But in reality I’m not sorry at all, your lips are soft. Can we go back there so I can kiss them again? — He winked at him, sticking out his tongue. It felt strange but nice having someone not caring about his age for once. Not that they were going to have sex or anything, they won’t probably never see each other again after parting ways today.
— Look at him calling me an asshole after knowing me for less than twenty minutes, dang. You can.. but I think it would be the last offer you could possibly make with someone. — Even though he was chill outside, he was pretty damn shitting himself inside, even with these people being so close. Wasn’t it easier for someone to attack? Maybe he was still following them somewhere and they didn’t notice him? — Yah, stop, stop, stop! — He caught his wrists, holding his hands up his head. — Stop hitting me! — He scrunched his nose, looking at Tate before releasing the grip. — Well, you don’t have to buy me. One kiss and I’m all yours. — Moving his eyebrows, he protested shaking his head. — You’re not going anywhere alone too. We can get the same taxi or whatever and I’m dropping you first, then I’m getting home. Where do you live? — He looked at Tate, raising an eyebrow. — Hop in then. Will see how heavy you are. — There was no way this guy was telling the truth. He looked skinny and maybe he had some muscles but they weren’t too heavy, right? — Did you just call me a virgin? What the fuck.. and stop hitting me!!! — That was enough as he pushed this guy a little before lifting him up, carrying towards people. — You’ll be drooling from something else when I’ll be eighteen baby. — He smiled at him, giggling right after.
Tate Lynch
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- Hey, I wouldn’t… Yeaaah, that’s what I’d probably do - it’s not his fault he had a tendency to hit people, not always lightly. He hit them when he was annoyed, excited, angry or happy. Not something he could control. - Can you kiss me when we’re safe? There are better ways to die than being stabbed - this one was never on his list. Too much pain and takes too long to die. He was all for the kiss but in a much better scenery than this one. - You underestimate my skills. If the police needs to negotiate with a terrorist, they call me - they don’t but they could? Tate was quite skilful when it came to his tongue. In all possible contexts, he’s trained it well. On the contrary to Peter, Tate wasn’t too concerned. Rather hyped cause something was happening. He loved adventures, even as deadly as this one. One day he won’t make it alive for sure, but hey! It was not that day. Again. - Yah! - he protested when Peter caught his wrists in his hands. People were usually doing that in bed, not in the middle of the street without a reason. - I’m not hitting you. But you’re hitting up on me - obviously. Tate understood that he was irresistible but come on, even now? - Not so fast, Romeo. Almost eighteen or not, you’re still a minor so I’m getting you home first. Don’t give me this look, I’m mentally sixteen but my ID says something different, I have to act like a responsible adult - tho Tate rarely was acting like one. This time, taking the circumstances of their meeting into consideration, he decided to pull his adult card. - I didn’t call you a virgin but your sto-woaaah! - he wrapped his hands around Peter’s chest to stabilize himself. Well, he wasn’t that heavy but still pretty heavy. Definitely should go on a diet, starting from tomorrow. The other tomorrow. - Let me guess, your big fat cock? - teasing this kid over here was a pure pleasure. - So sad for now I can only dream about it… Fucking phone, no signal again? - he sighed. After getting closer to the people, they managed to call a taxi and Tate drove Peter home before he decided to crash some party. The night was still young, right?

[zakończone]

Peter Collins
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