Minho kept his head down as turned from the main street and into a dark alley, the only form of lighting was the neon sign above a door a few hundred yards from the street. He hurried along the alley, still not sure if this was the right thing for him to do.

"We all get dumped, Minho." An older man said, throwing an arm around Minho's slumped shoulders. "It's a fact of life that we meet people and form relationships not knowing if they will last." The man was Minho's best friend, Changmin.

"I'm not upset because of that." Minho said grumpily, wiping at a stray tear that had somehow been produced. "She said she thought I was gay and would be happier with a man."

Minho noted Changmin fought to keep a straight face. "So, prove her wrong." Changmin removed his arm from around Minho's shoulders and removed his wallet from his pocket. He flicked through the various business cards he had collected until he found the one he was after. "Here."

"Flower Boy Club?" Minho read, wondering why Changmin would give him such a thing.

"It's a strip joint." Changmin explained. "No girls allowed, all the workers are gay. Yunho-hyung and I went once, he wanted to show me one of the dancers he liked." Changmin paused, clapping Minho on the shoulder. "Go. If you are destined to be gay, then this place will prove it."

Sighing, Minho walked up to the entrance of the club, casting a brief smile at the security guards at the door before stepping into the reception.

Minho looked around the small reception room, and to anyone who had not been told about the happenings at The Flower Boy Club it would look like an entrance to a restaurant. There was a small table set to the left of the room, a vase of white flowers set in the middle of the table, and to the right of the room was the podium where Minho assumed the conceirge would stand.

"Can I help you?"

Minho turned upon hearing the voice, seeing a man who couldn't have been much older than him stood by the podium. He blinked, as if to ascertain the man was truely there and not a figment of his imagination, as the man was the most beautiful person he had set his eyes upon.

"Is it your first time?" The man asked, and Minho nodded, feeling somewhat stupid. "I see a lot of newcomers, some come back, some don't." The man explained. "I'm Onew."

"Minho." He just about managed to choke his name out, along with a small bow.

"Well, Minho, I'll tell you the same advice as I tell all newcomers: don't fall in love with the dancers." Onew said, gently guiding Minho through the reception and along a corridor.

"It sounds like you have experience with that." Minho said, suddenly gaining confidence.

"He was called Joon. I was smitten, head over heels in love with him. I even started working here so I could be close to him. I was three months into my employment before I found out that that he had a boyfriend, Mir, another of our dancers. I was heartbroken, but enjoyed the job too much to quit." Onew explained, a sad look on his face.

"I'm sorry." Minho said, filled with genuine concern for the man. "But you don't have to worry about me falling in love with the dancers. I'm straight."

Onew chuckled. "They all say that." Onew held open the door to the club, the darkened room filled with plush red velvet booths and mahogany tables, a mixture of old and young men occupying them, some dressed in suits, the others in smart-casual attire. "Do you want a booth, or to stand at the bar?"

"A booth." Minho answered, his eyes flicking around the large room. There were what Minho assumed to be waiters sashaying around the room, dressed in dark, tight underwear, some holding bottles of Korean soju, others with expensive imported champagne. A live band played in the left corner of the room, a singer with a smooth voice adlibing to a popular song, his voice adding appeal to the usually innocent song. There was a stage in the centre of the room, with poles secured from the stage to the ceiling, and in the centre of the stage stood two dancers, their movements mirrored as they moved around the stage. They were both wearing tight jeans with rips high on the thigh, low cut tank tops and combat boots tied loosely around the ankles, hair the same shade of honey blonde with mischievious eyes.

"Key and Tae." Onew supplied, smiling in amusement at the way Minho's eyes scanned over the two blondes. He placed a hand on the small of Minho's back, gently guiding him to the booth. "I'll send a waiter to you, it's best to get a bottle of something expensive if you want a dancer to sit with you. Key and Tae both like champagne, Veuve Cliquot."

Minho nodded, sliding into the booth, feeling like he should have come here with more people. The booth was designed to hold more people, and Minho felt suddenly small in the space.

"Enjoy your time at the Flower Boy Club." Onew smiled, before turning on his heel.

"Wait!" Minho said suddenly, catching the attention of the other male.

"Yes?" Onew turned back to Minho, a confused look on his face.

"What about you? Can't you stay for a drink?" Minho asked quietly.

"My job is to people into the club, not to drink with them." Onew explained.

"Not even as a special request?" Minho asked curiously. He watched as Onew shook his head, leaving the main floor of the club. Minho couldn't help but feel for the man whose heart had been broken just as his own. He quickly caught the attention of a passing waiter, ordering a bottle of champagne, soju and cola - his thoughts were catching up with him and he hoped that drinking would help him to forget.

Minho focused on the dancers, watching the two blondes flirt and touch on stage, their lips meeting for the briefest of kisses as they finished their routine. Minho saw the shorter of the two wink quickly at the singer as they made their way from the stage, and he was pretty sure that they were in some sort of relationship.

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