Making their way to a boozy part of town filled with bars to the brim, stopping at a bar namely called:'Naught(y) catóure', written in a scraggly cursive font lit up in neon, located in a fairly wealthy three block strip filled with other clubs and bars as well as late night cafés in a homey yet rather flashy part of the city. Squeezed between a J and B Beehive and a rather dimly or romantically lit restaurant called 'Casa del Fuego', which was written in big bold antebellum font on it's sign. A band or stereo could be heard, blasting renditions of Carlos Santana from within, if one stood close enough to hear it, among the other loud and thumping sounds of beats and club's zeff and hype.And with all the neon lights and lasers light shows that where happening inside the very club house that which they were so eager to go into, was so bright to Rowland that they could be seen from outside the very entrance to the place. It seemed as though on a Saturday night like this, a place such a

It was ten o'clock and going for noon.Rowland jolted awake to the sound of music as it bounced around the seemingly empty house just as the beat changed and it's high pitched echo caught his ear accompanied by the angelic screech of familiar vocals.The now bright and flowing room's light hurt Rowland's eyes, he lay face down on Nick's dark genuine leather bound couch latched onto a throw pillow with his leg dangling over the seats, his slightly sandy shoes lay across the carpet. He wiped drool from his face as he lifted his chin slowly and the first thing he saw was the cap of a water bottle over the arm of the couch, his head felt like a minibus, and so he plunked it down feeling his back ache from the position he laid in while he thought about the fist in his dream that woke him up.'Or was it a dream..?', he thought as he felt his face lightly sting and ache, as well as that thing called a brain behind it; right now he hated his brain and it fought him back as it sloshed around i

Cycling through these feelings, or lack there of over and over again like the wheels that rode him towards the end, and ushering him towards the beginning. And just like the wheels from under him, his thoughts were cycling so much so that they appeared to be standing still, and his mind went void. To the point Where all he could think about was how he could start again, reinvent himself and make a name for himself and whatnot. Finding his way back to the hill cliff that which all had started. He found Nick atop it, sitting on his parked car's hood and smoking what appeared to be a carrot..?'What am I looking at, here? Orange blunt wrap?' ,Rowland glanced in Nick's direction as he parked his own car. Staring at the orange thing in Nick's hand with his sub-par vision. Getting out with sheer curiosity in play and his hands in his hoody's pockets, shying away from the cold with his shoulders to his ears. Nick paid no attention to Rowland coming in but turned his attention to him as soon

And within ten minutes, his question was answered as they entered a steamy Cuban tavern with lights and crowds of dancers who jived to dance hall music, which blared along with muffled raised voices that filled the room. It had a rustic feel but with modern refinement, as historic keep sakes hung up on walls and on the ceiling and sat on shelves made for their display.Rowland was relieved that he could stretch his legs for a while but was aware of the fact that his car's wheels were not moving anymore, and then suddenly he felt that "home" wasn't far enough. He felt that the recent scars and memories were willing to burn, the physical pain either from the heat of the club atmosphere, but that pain bothered him the least.And as the two of them passed through the crowd of crowds, Rowland was willing to do anything about the lingering memory of Charlotte and himself and how in one night, two years could simply just fall away. He didn't want to make a spectacle of the passing thought as

"I asked you first...", Rowland sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed with his back facing Nick and stated officiously, he demanded an answer. But the sentence made Nick smile a bit as it sounded a tad childish, though in all honesty;"I really don't fucking know.", Nick said again, this time there was something in his voice that made Rowland believe it. Although he could hear the smile plastered on Nick's face, he knew he meant it; he too, didn't know."How long... Have you thought about this, wanted... This?""To be honest...", Nick didn't want to answer and he sighed, but he knew that Rowland wasn't going to let it go;"...From the moment I got close enough to kiss you."That was far too ambiguous for Rowland's liking and satisfaction, but he was in no real mood to fight.Nick pulled a plain sky blue bic lighter from his back pocket. Rowland finally turned his head to face him in silence as Nick casually carried on with his business of lighting the weed cigarette. Rest