Gentle raindrops accompanied Lorik’s journey into the center from the old town, where the play had taken place. The cobbled streets were slick and dark, water coursing through the gutters, pooling at street corners.

Lorik had to endure the rain for a few more blocks, knowing he might end up soaked and needing a change of clothes to avoid catching a cold. But he was unconcerned; enthusiastically, he mainly thought about how many times he would cheer to “bottoms up” tonight.

The rain drenched him, but he barely noticed. It was early June and the warm weather made the sudden downpour feel almost refreshing. His slim figure, accentuated by a slight beer belly, moved briskly down the street.

Nestled on a quiet side street just off the lively alleyway bustling with terraces filled to the brim, a hidden gem awaited in the heart of the city: Orchid Pub. The building, once used as a cow shed, had been transformed into a vibrant escape for the LGBTQ+ community. Behind, a cozy terrace, encircled by lush shrubs and orchid trees, invited patrons to mingle.

The rain turned to drizzle and eventually stopped, leaving the terrace with a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. Music blared from speakers tucked into the corners, forcing the energetic gatherers to raise their voices above the din. Festoon lights, strung in a regiment pattern, cast a dim glow over the scene, where a few young party-goers were already dancing in the cramped space created by pushed-back tables. The air was thick with the warmth of the crowd’s energy.

Eris, a friend of Lorik’s, had just performed in a play and the entire cast had taken over the pub to celebrate a great show.

I’m back!

Amid the frenzy of voices clamoring for attention, Lorik felt an irresistible pull as he stepped onto the terrace, exhilarated to reunite with his community once again. His dance moves were beginning to sway to the rhythm of the music, when his arm brushed against Zana’s shoulder.

“Is that you, Lorik?”

“Yep, that’s me in the flesh.”

“OMG, I haven’t seen you in a long time! Come give your girl Zana a hug, you bastard!”

Lorik chuckled as he reached out for a hug as his eyes widened. “Are those silicon bosoms? The twins seem to have doubled since the last time we met.”

Zana laughed, her voice light and playful. “I’m all real, what are you talking about? You can touch my breast, nothing to fear, you bisexual beast!”

“I’m serious, are they real?” Lorik insisted, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Yeah, just my own fat pulled from below to give them a more feminine shape until the hormones take effect,” Zana answered. “Don’t worry; even if you squeeze my girls, nothing will pop.”

Without hesitation, Zana explained the situation to the crowd around them: “We go way back. We’ve known each other for years and tolerate each other’s company. Lorik, I’ll get a table outside and see you there!”

Surprise or not, I’m here!

Eris stepped out onto the terrace to light a cigarette with Rron, a fellow cast member. Just two days earlier, Eris had met up with Lorik to attend another play. Eris hadn’t mentioned tonight’s party to Lorik, encouraging him to show up to his play instead. He knew better than to bring up a party at Orchid with Lorik.

He rushed to finish his cigarette, eager to join Lorik at the table.

In a burst of unrestrained joy, Eris greeted his long-time friend with a charming flair: “My other half is here, everyone! Mwah, mwah!” The declaration, equal parts affection and theatrics, captured the essence of their bond — playful, expressive and distinctly Eris.

Lorik paused briefly, casting a glance at Rron, his intent clear as he sought to redirect the conversation. “Well, what have we here? A new face?”

“Hello, Lorik!” Rron replied, knowing Lorik only from the stories that Eris had shared.

Eris, never one to let a moment slip by without a bit of personal revelation, added, “and here we have Zana, another bestie you must know,” making sure Rron felt properly introduced to the circle.

“Hello, everyone!” Rron said, his greeting now directed at the group as a whole.

A round of shots, ordered without hesitation, arrived at the table with surprising speed, as if the bartender had been anticipating the request. As the conversation shifted to the play and as they began to unravel a bit more about Rron, Eris, ever the inquisitive one, leaned toward Lorik and asked, “So, what do you think of me in the play? Be honest, was I a bit dramatic?”

“Bottoms up!” Lorik shouted. “To Eris, for always enjoying being dramatic — which suits him well in plays.”

Eris didn’t quite appreciate Lorik’s answer, and was still sensitive to the fact that Lorik paid more attention to Rron. Restless, he pulled Zana, a trusted confidante, aside, as if about to say something, but hesitated. “I’ll talk to him. Maybe tomorrow. Just the two of us.”

Zana, fatigued by Eris and Lorik, made a proposition. “What’s the point of being here if not to enjoy ourselves? Come on — let’s join the crowd and dance until dawn. It’s good for the soul.”

“Marvelous idea,” Eris replied, his voice merry. “But only for a little while.”

Lorik remained fixed on Rron. With each passing moment, any further discussion from the table faded further from his mind. By pure chance, Rron — tall, slim and entirely unaware of Lorik’s interest — had ended up seated next to him.

Rron had heard of Lorik, but they had never met. Lorik felt a quiet excitement — with Rron, he knew he had to tread carefully because he knew Eris far too well and pursuing Rron, who was Eris’ castmate, might leave Eris to feel needy. Deep down, there was a longing for something real and lasting. He yearned for genuine depth, something beyond casual encounters or friendly exchanges. Lorik craved a connection that would endure, a relationship that could grow, steady and true.

“The drinks are here,” Lorik announced, as they were served tequila shots, then a sequence of cocktails: sex on the beach and plenty of vodka sours.

“You see that wonder in their eyes as they dance?” said Rron, unexpectedly. “It complements the laughter, the drinking. I remember my first time here — surreal, yet strangely free.”

He smiled at Lorik, pleased with his words, then finished his drink in one go.

“Goodbye,” he said, smiling as if to imply that perhaps the next time would offer a chance for more conversation.

Lorik caught the server’s attention and requested another round of shots. “Why not?” he said, his voice disappointed but insistent. “Perhaps I’d find more enjoyment in watching the crowd dance, intoxicated, than in disappointment.” His words betrayed a sense of despair, as if Rron’s departure had signalled a failure.

A night to remember

The years of friendship between Lorik and Eris had revealed both their virtues and their flaws, with each subtly testing the other’s patience. As anticipated, Lorik effortlessly asserted control over the scene unfolding around their table, even though this was supposed to be Eris’ night, by all accounts. Yet, there was nothing pretentious in Lorik’s demeanor, Eris reminded himself.

Eris could not deny the truth: sensitive as he might be to Lorik’s larger-than-life presence, he truly adored his friend, even if it meant stepping up his own presence to match Lorik, the center of attention. Returning to the table alone, his gaze fell upon two new faces seated there.

They rose as he approached, in a gesture more fitting for a ballroom than a casual gathering. Eris, sensing a rare opportunity, was determined to make his mark and seized the moment.

“May I have your name again, darling?” Eris asked, having missed it the first time.

“I’m Jon, from Tirana.”

“I must say, what a pleasure to meet a gentleman from Tirana!” Eris said with enthusiasm. “Trust me, Jon, these days it’s hard to find a local gentleman. Just look around.”

Lorik cut him off mid-sentence, unaware Eris was attracted to Jon. “Pardon me! I had to get everyone’s attention. Are we up for one more round of tequila shots and good old-fashioned martini cocktails?”

“Yay!” the group shouted in unison.

Eris, still holding onto the frustration from being upstaged by Lorik, felt the urge to grab everyone’s attention back to him and away from Lorik.

Eris lifted his glass, and with a knowing smile, called out, “To borrow a line from my fiendish bestie, while enjoying this shot.” He paused, then raised it higher. “Bottoms up! To Lorik, for bending the rules and muscling his way back into the Orchid Pub.”

“No, I haven’t,” Lorik shot back. “I’ve been invited to the party.”

As Eris brought up Lorik’s past, Lorik had to tell everyone why he had been asked to leave Orchid that night a few months back, an experience that lingered in his mind. “With a sincere apology, I had thought the incident would soon be behind me. I hadn’t realized the weight of my words when I, out of innocent curiosity, asked a transgender woman about her dead name,” Lorik confessed.

“The hurt I had unintentionally inflicted rippled through her, prompting her to report me to the owner. Before the owner could even speak to me, I realized what I had done and left.” Since that night, Orchid Pub became a forbidden place, or so Lorik had thought.

“Well, after your play ended,” he continued “I was walking home when a group of people leaving the play mentioned they were going to Orchid. One of them was the owner. ‘See you at the party — Orchid Pub. I’m on my way there,’ was exactly what he said. That’s when I realized — I was never actually banned. It wasn’t the owner who shut me out; I was the one who decided not to come after making a mistake and upsetting someone,” Lorik reflected.

“So… here I am!” he said, raising a glass.

More twists and turns

As the night went on, Eris hoped Lorik wouldn’t upstage him again, as his attention was already shifting to the unspoken desires that had taken root. His eyes were on the Tirana gentleman; now that the play was over Eris could focus on having some fun.

Jon had to be in his late 40s, judging by his looks. He was tall and elegantly built and spoke with a grace that suggested both intelligence and gentleness, just what the doctor had prescribed for Eris. But it was his eyes that truly held the power to mesmerize — bluish aqua, glinting with an enigmatic light that drew Eris in, promising secrets and adventures untold.

“Did you drive from Tirana specifically to see the play?” Eris asked Jon.

“No, my friend and I decided to come over early this time. We never miss Pride.”

“I thought otherwise,” Eris said. “I was hoping you would say you have read the libretto for the play and came specifically to see me, meet me in person and possibly we take off from there.”

“Very sarcastic. I’m quite entranced by your answer,” Jon remarked. “What’s next on the agenda — take me home?” Eris was captivated by Jon’s steady nature, a refreshing contrast to the noncommunicative local men he’d dated before.

“Isn’t he something, Lorik?” Eris asked, his expression charged with urgency, as though the question alone could break the hold of his dreams about Jon.

“As long as he isn’t some cowboy,” Lorik responded, his voice laced with cautious concern and a protective instinct, as if looking out for his partner-in-crime. “He’s definitely more than just a one-night stand.”

Jon shot right back at him, “How long have you known Eris to throw such compliments — or shade — at me?” Jon followed in a carefree tone, saying: “My friend and I are about to head to a club; perhaps by morning, we’ll all have forgotten who said what to whom, right, boys?”

Eris knew all too well where Lorik’s sharp tongue could lead. He was determined not to let Lorik’s dry humor ruin his chances, especially with a potential boyfriend at stake. He had to make a decision — and fast.

Last call

Jon and his friend, departing for one of the limited choices of late-night partying, asked Eris to join them. Eris, in turn, did not extend the invite to Lorik, hoping that he won’t have to compete for attention anymore.

As the music swelled and laughter echoed across the dimly-lit terrace, Lorik fit effortlessly into the party, his charm drawing people — other than, perhaps, Eris — toward him like a magnet. Despite the missed opportunity to bond with Rron, he found a sense of belonging — a patchwork of friendships that, for the night, made him feel part of something bigger.

“Shall we order one more round of shots?” he called out, already knowing he wouldn’t be joining them at the club. “I just want to shout ‘bottoms up’ one last time before heading home.”

Feature Image: Ezee.

The dramatic besties

A fictional account of a night on the town.

Duggi Nokaj

The dramatic besties

A fictional account of a night on the town.

Duggi Nokaj