“Gone black,” Joon-Ki said as he sat down opposite Sean at SteamPunk Coffee.

“Yeah, well, figured it was about that time,” Sean said. He took a swallow of the dark roast. Joon-Ki was never late, but Sean had been too full of adrenaline from Harper’s text to sit at home. It was his second cup of coffee.

Joon-Ki cupped his own cappuccino and waited patiently for Sean to speak. They had this relationship down pat.

“It’s a year today,” Sean said.

“I know. I’m sorry. Have you thought any more about what I suggested? About reaching out to Ashton?”

Sean shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t … at least, not today. Shit, I’m sure he remembers, more than anyone, what happened a year ago.”

Joon-Ki nodded. “A week-long ICU stay is kind of hard to forget, especially since he still hasn’t come out of the coma,” he said. His black eyes were kind.

“I just … I still can’t believe it. You know? Fucking stupid. I guess, I don’t know. Something about driving drunk in the morning, when it’s all bright and rush hour on the highways, it made me feel safe. Like those kinds of accidents don’t happen in daylight.”

“That thinking is common,” Joon-Ki said. “Statistically speaking, there are more serious crashes during mornings and afternoons than late at night.”

Sean nodded. He knew all the statistics. They’d been drilled into him during the three months of court-ordered rehab at Serenity Center. During the first month, he wasn’t even allowed outside contact. He’d nearly gnawed a fingernail off while he’d waited to find out if his best friend would live or die.

Once he’d been released, it was straight into a court-ordered halfway house for another two months. He’d heard of halfway houses, but—like most people—didn’t know how they operated. They were all owned privately, and he’d been roomed with someone who’d just served time for violent rape. Whether you came out of the prison system or forced rehab, it didn’t matter. Halfway houses didn’t play favorites.

It was the required therapy sessions that had saved him. And Koon-Ji. Forced to take a hard look at his life, including his relationship with his insane father and alcoholic mother, hadn’t been easy. “Alcoholism has a genetic factor, amongst others,” the therapist had told him.

He’d nodded, and he’d even considered it briefly before. But his mother? Was he actually like the woman he hated so much?

Even after he’d moved into the halfway house, got a phone and had some restricted freedom, most of his friendships shriveled up. The few who had maybe cared about him couldn’t watch him destroy himself. That’s what they’d said. The rest didn’t see much use for him now that he didn’t party or use his trust fund to bank roll their bar tabs.

Sean had talked to Koon-Ji about possibly creating a new foundation of a relationship with his parents, but it was too tender to try in earnest. He cleared his throat. He wanted to tell Koon-Ji about Harper, but AA discouraged dating when you’re less than a year in. “I, uh, I met a girl,” he said.

“Oh?” Koon-Ji searched his eyes. “Where?”

“At work. She came in with some friends to get some work done.”

“And are you … pursuing something with her? Does she know you’re sober?”

“I told her I was, she didn’t seem to care much either way. And I don’t know, we just met that one time. But she invited me … to hang out tomorrow.”

“Dating? I just don’t think that’s such a good idea. You know the tenets of AA are in place for a reason.” Koon-Ji stirred his coffee thoughtfully. “What did she invite you to do?”

“Oh, uh. A party? At her place. She’s a model and I guess lives with a bunch of other models. That’s what her friend was yapping on about. And I thought—”

He knew he gushed in hopes that Joon-Ki would miss the whole “party” aspect, but his sponsor didn’t miss anything. “A party? With models?” Koon-Ji was aghast. “You’re not even six months into AA. And models here, they party hard—”

“How would you know?” Sean asked, a touch of playfulness in his voice.

Joon-Ki blushed. “I’m a native, and I used to party hard. Harder than you. Remember?” he asked. Sean did, but he couldn’t imagine Koon-Ji gone wild at an L.A. house party. “Look, I’m glad to see you engaged in something, but I’d hoped it would be work. Not a party girl. If you really want to jump the gun on dating, why don’t you try dating someone more … normal?”

“But I’m not normal,” Sean said. It surprised him how easily the words came. “My brain chemistry’s all fucked up. I put my best friend in a coma. Shit, he’s still in it. Who does that—”

“Ashton was the one driving,” Koon-Ji reminded him, but Sean brushed it off.

“J, life is a tragedy. So if some kind of light creeps in, what am I supposed to do? Ignore it? I gotta do what it takes to make it stay. Even if she is a model,” he admitted. “And probably a party girl.”

“Sean …” Joon-Ki gave a sigh.

“Look, how about I make you a promise? If she does anything to jeopardize my sobriety, anything at all, I walk.”

Joon-Ki blew out a breath and gave a slight nod. “Yeah, okay,” he said. It’s useless arguing, his eyes said.

“This girl, I think she might be different,” he said. “There was some chemistry like I’ve never felt before. And, anyway, I have to enter the real world at some point, right?”

“At some point,” Joon-Ki echoed.

His sponsor wasn’t as encouraging as he’d hoped, but Sean knew that had been wishful thinking. Harper wasn’t like her other model friends, that was obvious. She wasn’t the one he was worried about, it was himself. How am I going to keep all the darkness stuffed down without drinking? He’d always relied on booze and blackouts to numb himself.

He’d never even had sex sober. Of course, there was sex and then there was intimacy. Intimacy was what really scared him, but not for reasons that girls always thought. Sex, that was easy. He didn’t go deep. But intimacy? That brought out a darkness, a nihilism and bleakness that scared even him.

While he’d been locked up in the halfway house, unable to reach for a drink as a distraction, he’d followed the rabbit hole of the internet into the wells of BDSM sites. It took some digging to get to the real stuff thanks to all that 50 Shades of Grey shit that flooded the internet now.

It had helped, to put words to what he was. And to see that there were others out there like him. A dominant, definitely. A sadist? Well … yes. That, too. He knew there were women out there, too, who complemented what he needed. Could it be someone like Harper though? Could she handle his darkness? He didn’t know, but he didn’t want to give up on the idea of it just yet.

“—doesn’t mean you should.”

“What?” Sean asked. He realized Joon-Ki had been talking, but Sean was miles away.

“I said, obviously you can do whatever you want. Just remember that just because you can, that doesn’t mean you should. Honestly? I like seeing you in good spirits. It’s rare. But … testing your sobriety like this? It isn’t safe. Or smart.”

“I’ve got this,” Sean said. The caffeine had started to make him feel on edge.

“I just want you to be careful. Okay?” Joon-Ki said. “Take things slowly.”

Slowly. Sean ruminated on that. Slow could work. Slow could be fun. Joon-Ki finished his coffee and set it aside. Sean stood up and slapped him on the back. “Thanks for the advice,” he said. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, okay? The Sunday meeting.”

Joon-Ki smiled up at him. “Have fun. Just not too much fun. And call me if you need to, doesn’t matter the time.”

Sean slid on his Ray-Bans as he stepped out into the California sunshine.