“So, anyway-“

Darius huffs, trying to avoid the flutter in his chest as his lovely boyfriend, (who’s a lot milder punk than him, keep in mind-), holds onto his arm to keep from being sent back in the crowd.

“I think matcha is gross. It tastes too herbal.”

Just as his boy is about to argue back, a car honks and swerves them, just an inch away from his boyfriend.

Oh, fuck no.

”Fuck you, dickwad!”