"Are you serious, you really forgot?" William Harris said. "We thought you were just drunk and joking, but then you said Matthew Clark was waiting for you at the door and you had to leave first. I looked... and it really was Matthew Clark."
Ryan Miller said angrily, "So you just watched me leave with him? Weren't you afraid I'd get kidnapped and dragged into some dark alley to be silenced??"
"Come on, come on, it's not that bad. He doesn't have any grudge against you, it's not worth it. At most, you just pissed him off and got beaten up." William Harris calculated for him, "Look, if you got taken away like that, it's either a beating or getting fucked. I think that's a pretty good deal—what if it's the latter? Wouldn't that be a huge win?"
Ryan Miller thought it was a miracle he and William Harris had managed to be friends for so many years.
William Harris—apart from being a bit of a perv—didn't really have any other flaws. But he never expected him to be this pervy.
"You’re the one getting fucked!" After cursing, Ryan Miller suddenly realized that to William Harris, this didn't even count as a curse word. He clicked his tongue. "Let me tell you, last night I was the one who did him!"
There was silence on William Harris's end.
After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice full of shock: "Wait... Ryan Miller, are you out of your mind? You actually paid to be the top???"
Before Ryan Miller could say anything, William Harris started roaring: "Are you crazy?! If you just stand in a gay bar, tons of bottoms would throw themselves at you! The line of people wanting to get fucked by you could stretch from the bar to the capital! And the key thing is, you—you actually turned Matthew Clark into a bottom?! Holy shit, holy shit, I can't, I'm about to faint."
Ryan Miller wasn't super familiar with the gay scene, but he did know what top and bottom meant: "...Did I look for Matthew Clark just to sleep with him? Besides, why can't Matthew Clark be a bottom?"
"Let me put it this way, every single—yes, every single gay guy I know, whether they're pure bottoms or switches, not one of them doesn't want to get fucked by Matthew Clark." William Harris said. "He's our dream guy! The star of our wet dreams! The ultimate catch in the gay scene! And you just ruined him!!"
Ryan Miller's expression was complicated. William Harris was just that outrageous. He'd been all riled up a moment ago, but now he was just speechless. "William Harris, what about your manly dignity?"
"How much is dignity worth?" William Harris sneered. "Besides, even if it was worth something, do I look like I’m short on cash?"
William Harris's family owned a mine—literally—so he could say things like that without even blinking.
Ryan Miller was completely out of patience. "I'm hanging up."
"Hey, hey, don't, Ranran, wait a sec." William Harris stopped him. "So... how much did you pay for Matthew Clark?"
Ryan Miller frowned. "What are you up to?"
William Harris grinned mischievously. "I'm just thinking, with Matthew Clark's looks, there's no way you could turn him into a pure bottom in one night..."
"Impossible." Ryan Miller cut him off immediately, making stuff up as he went. "William Harris, don't even think about it. He and I are in a long-term relationship, a whole year."
"Damn, Ryan Miller, that's not cool, keeping all the good stuff to yourself?" William Harris said. "Fine, then at least tell me, how much did you pay?"
This time, Ryan Miller got smart and answered with a question: "What's the going rate?"
"Going rate? I've never hired anyone. A hot young guy like me hasn't sunk to the level of those poor little bottoms begging for it." William Harris went on, "But I know people who’ve hired escorts. Usually it's five thousand for an average one, fifty thousand for a top-tier guy—for just one night."
"...Anyway, the price I paid is enough to keep him for a year. You couldn't afford it, so don't even think about it." Ryan Miller said. "Hanging up!"
After hanging up, Ryan Miller felt like he couldn't go on like this.
He needed to buy himself some medicated patches, or he wouldn't be able to sleep well.
He went straight to a delivery app and ordered a runner. Not long after, the delivery guy brought the stuff back.
Ryan Miller told him to leave it at the villa gate. After the delivery guy left, he slowly went out to get the medicine.
Applying the medicine was a real struggle. After he was done, Ryan Miller started regretting not beating up Matthew Clark a few hours earlier.
Ryan Miller lay back on the bed, unable to sleep no matter how he tried. He picked up his phone to find a movie to kill time, only to discover that at some point, he’d gotten a WeChat message.
[Q: Are you okay.]
Ryan Miller stared at the all-black profile picture for a long time before realizing who it was.
Too lazy to type, he pressed the voice button, brought the phone to his mouth, and started ranting: "How could I be okay? Why don't I try fucking you for a change? Matthew Clark, I'm telling you, if my ass isn't better by tomorrow, I'm burning your house down!"
Matthew Clark replied with two voice messages.
"Where are you? I'll take you to the hospital."
"So you won't have to burn my house down."
Ryan Miller couldn't even face a delivery guy, let alone a doctor. He'd rather die than go see one.
"Hospital my ass!" At this, Ryan Miller had a sudden idea. "But you—go get a checkup at the hospital right now! I just said some drunk nonsense last night and you went to bed with me? What if you have some disease?"
Of course, Ryan Miller knew Matthew Clark didn't have anything. Who was Matthew Clark? Before he went bankrupt, Matthew Clark was the golden boy in everyone's eyes—someone you could only admire from afar, never touch, so aloof it was unreal.