Note: Oliver is about twenty-two in this, Neil is twenty-four, and Blake is also twenty-two.
The young man stumbled out of the bar. He swayed from side to side and smelled heavily of alcohol.
Having been there for several hours, he was very intoxicated and knew he was going to kick himself for this in the morning, but he had been having too much fun to care.
Finally deciding to turn in for the night, he made his way down the paved city streets, when up ahead, he caught sight of a very delicate figure in the light of a streetlamp.
It was a boy. Sandy-brown hair, white, button-up shirt, blue ascot, and deliciously tight skinny jeans. Something appeared vaguely familiar about him, but the man pushed it aside, knowing that what he wanted right now was to bring him home.
Stumbling awkwardly as he did, the man brought his pace up to a jog in order to catch the other boy.
Hearing him approach, the other boy glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the drunk oddly.
"Hey there, pretty thing."
He groaned, "God, not another one..."
The man recognized the countertenor's voice. "Ol'ver? Ol'ver Miller? Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me, Blake..." He said irritably, continuing to walk forward.
He laughed, "I used to shove you 'gainst the lockers in high school."
"Mhm..."
Blake put a hand on Oliver's shoulders. "You got a lot prettier since then..." He slurred.
Grimacing and pushing it away, Oliver said, "Don't touch me."
He moved his hand toward Oliver's slim hips.
Oliver elbowed him in the stomach, saying, "What did I tell you?" He turned left and walked down the alley.
Blake followed him, "It isn't safe for somethin' like you to be wandering the streets at night." Certain words were indistinguishable from one another.
"You're drunk."
Blake laughed, still following.
"Go away," Oliver said without turning.
He grabbed Oliver's wrist, "Maybe you can come back with me..."
Going stiff, Oliver wrenched his wrist from Blake's grip and whirled on him, furious flames danced in his green eyes. "Do I look like one of those girls you can pick up off the street?!"
Before Blake could answer, Oliver was marching toward him. "I've got news for you, mister, I'm not!" He leaned in close, teeth clenched. "I turned you down in high school, and I'll do it again. Leave me alone."
"Gon' play it feisty, huh?" Blake shoved Oliver up against the brick alley wall.
Ignoring the fact that the overpowering smell of whiskey and scotch made Oliver's eyes water, he wrestled against Blake's grip. "Get your hands off of me!"
"I'm not losin' you again, Miller," Blake slurred with the undertone of a growl.
"I said get your hands off of me!" Breaking one hand free, Oliver used it to slap Blake across the face. "Leave me alone! I have a boyfriend!"
Blake didn't look deterred, he was far too drunk to care about anything right now. "You're mine tonight..."
Oliver felt like he should kick, run, something, but he couldn't find it within himself to move, he was gradually growing more and more terrified.
Oliver had heard of people who learned the hard way to never underestimate a drunk man, but he had never actually been in a situation like this where all the said individual wanted was him.
His wrist was pinned back against the wall as a fierce kiss was planted on his lips.
Grunting, Oliver shook his head rapidly and kicked at Blake, trying to shake him off. There was no way he was about to give in that easily.
Breaking off of the thrashing Oliver, Blake hummed. "I forgot how good that felt."
Oliver spit at his face, in a mix of insult and wanting to get the horrible taste of Blake minced with alcohol from his mouth. "Don't get used to it." He tried to stay brave, but he was feeling like an egg. Hard, coarse, and tough on the outside, but a runny mess within.
Blake moved in for another kiss, when Oliver slammed his forehead hard against the other boy's.
Blake began stumbling back, and Oliver took the opportunity to run from the alley and start yelling for help.
Even for someone very intoxicated, Blake moved quickly, already grabbing Oliver by the back of his shirt. "You're not getting away from me, not this time!"
The sound of glass breaking was heard and Blake grew limp; then slumped to the ground.
Behind him, a boy with thick, dark curls stood with an empty wine bottle, the bottom was broken and jagged.
Oliver felt his heart soar, never in his life had he been so happy to see-
"Neil!"
Dropping the bottle, Neil rushed forward and gave Oliver a tight hug. Both of their hearts raced and tears fell from the younger boy's eyes.
"Oliver..." Neil breathed. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you in any way?"
He only kept his embrace with Neil, shivering. "I was scared..." Oliver whimpered. "I was so scared..."
The egg had finally broken.
He hugged Oliver tighter, "It's okay, I'm here...No one's going to hurt you anymore..."
"What he did to me...What he almost did to me..." Oliver's voice cracked and he trailed off.
"You don't have to say anything, Ollie, just calm down..." Neil traced kisses from his jawline up to Oliver's ear, attempting to soothe him.
Oliver just wanted to stay in Neil's arms for the rest of the night, but he knew that wouldn't be possible.
All Neil wanted to do was cradle Oliver in his arms and take him home, better yet, make him feel safer and take him back to his house.
"Come on," Neil shifted, now standing next to Oliver, but still keeping one hand over his shoulders. "Let's go back to my house."
Oliver held both hands around Neil's waist as he nodded, resting the side of his face on his shoulder.
They walked off into the night, leaving the unconscious man behind them.
"You can stay in my bed, if you want," Neil offered kindly.
Oliver nodded again. "Thank you...Thank you for protecting me..."
Neil kissed Oliver's forehead. "I will never let anyone hurt you, not after tonight. Never again."