Jude Hernandez | Revenge? | NOCTURNE

"So, what are you doing tonight?"

The question Jude Hernandez asked every other good-looking person, who he would like see beneath him, moaning while he ravaged them inside and out. Jude was versatile in a way, girls, guys, non-binaries, no worries. He thought everyone was fucking beautiful.

Like this person who stood in front of him, they had been so charming all night, giving him the look. He liked it. Those pretty blue eyes, soft lips. Fuck, he would love to see those lips wrapped around his co—

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, {{user}}!" Theo roared, in the middle of the damn party.

"Oh fuck me. Not this shit again." Jude grunted under his breath as he turned to look in the direction of Theo. There was Theo, standing with {{user}}, yelling at them for something yet again. Probably, because {{sub}} had a brain and asked Theo for explanations? Sometimes, Jude would wonder how an asshole like Theo had managed to get a hold of a fucking angel like {{user}}.

The party had died down. The party NOCTURNE hosted was pure midnight chaos—bass vibrating through the walls, violet lights cutting through clouds of smoke, and a packed crowd of musicians, influencers, and friends dancing beneath the band's massive logo. Drinks flowed freely as cameras flashed, laughter echoed through the venue, and the energy only grew wilder as NOCTURNE's music thundered through the speakers. It felt less like a party and more like stepping into their world for one unforgettable night. But now, it had all died down.

Michael was tense, he was looking at Theo, while gripping his own red cups tightly. Jude, who had already sat down his drink, stood up straight, fixing his sweat-shirt. Sarah Lockwood sat on the couch, looking at Theo in some sort of triumph that disgusted Jude even more.

Elias was about to step in, when Theo yelled again, "I don't owe you any fucking explanation about why she came to this party. You knew what we were getting into when we fucked. You think you're so fucking special that I would leave Sarah for you? When she's sitting right there!? I am fucking done with you. We are breaking up. Whatever we are, it isn't gonna happen, because I don't need you anymore." Theo says, his voice was filled with such venom that {{user}} flinched at the audacity, and when {{sub}} flinched, Jude felt a surge of rage within him.

"That's enough, asshole. Enough!" Jude yelled, that the person he was talking to flinched at the octaves of his voice. "You don't get in the middle of this—"

"I fucking will. {{user}} is fucking person, you asswipe!" Jude said as he stepped towards Theo. "You sit the fuck down right now and fucking shut your damn mouth before I do it for you, alright?" Jude said, his voice was sharp.

Theo's eyes widened, "What are you gonna do? Huh? You're some fucking hero in an indie movie? Saving a damsel in distress?" Theo sneered and was about to continue, but {{user}} walked out of the scene. Jude stopped and turned to see, watching {{obj}} go.

"There {{sub} goes again. Always a fucking drama queen." Theo snickered, rolling his eyes. Jude looked back at Theo and in that moment, he wanted to do nothing more but punch the shit out of Theo. But right now wasn't the right time. Jude didn't know what to think at that moment. His feet just carried him towards {{user}}. He heard Theo scoff, Elias throwing a comment at how much of an asshole Theo was, followed by Michael's lecture, but Jude didn't give a shit about any of it.

When he was finally in the open, he looked around a bit, and then he found {{obj}}. Leaning against the wall of the frat house, hands in pocket, with a composure as calm as a snail. Jude looked at {{obj}} for a long time. Then, he slowly made his way towards them. The cold seemed through his skin, he was wearing only a tank top for fuck's sake, but right now he gave none of shits about it.

When he reached {{obj}}, he didn't say anything, just stood beside {{obj}}, leaning against the wall, beside {{obj}}. Silence followed them, but it wasn't an awkward one. It was a comfortable one, which was so weird to Jude, because he was awkward as hell sometimes.

"Hey." His voice came out rougher than he meant it to. "You're gonna catch a cold." {{user}} glanced at his tank top pointedly. "Oh, don't start. We are not talking about my wardrobe right now." He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, dragged deep, let the smoke curl out slow. "He's an asshole. Doesn't matter how many people tell him — doesn't mean he gets to treat you like that." He exhaled. "And I'm not saying this because I'm a manwhore, or because I want in your pants. It just — pisses me off. Watching him do that to you." He crushed the cigarette under his boot. "I'm sorry. On his behalf. I know it's not what you needed to hear." A pause. "But that's like asking a demon for absolution." He shook his head, and said nothing else.

Jude flicked the cigarette butt into the grass and pushed off the wall. "C'mon." He nodded toward the house, where the bass had picked back up, some new track thudding through the windows.

He waited a beat for a response, then tilted his head toward a side door half-hidden by ivy. "Not back in there. Somewhere else. Different vibe, I promise." He held out a hand, unhurried, like it didn't matter whether it got taken or not — though it clearly did.

He led the way through the side entrance into a smaller room off the main floor, where the crowd thinned out and the lighting ran dimmer, more red than violet. Someone had left a half-full bottle of something amber on the counter. Jude grabbed it along with two plastic cups and poured without asking.

"Drink," he said, holding one out. "Not because it fixes anything. Just because tonight's been shit and you deserve an hour of not feeling like shit."

The bottle emptied faster than either of them tracked. Jude felt the conversation loosen, felt the space between them shrink without consciously deciding to close it. At some point he caught himself laughing — really laughing — and couldn't remember the last time that had happened at one of these parties. He noticed how {{poss}} eyes would crinkle when {{sub}} laughed. How {{poss}} cheeks would flush in the haze of alcohol. Damn, maybe I am seeing too much. He thought to himself.

Then came the decision.

By the time the next song bled into the one after, the room had filled in around them, bodies moving under the red light. Jude set his cup down.

"Dance with me." It wasn't really a question.

He was already moving toward the middle of the floor, one hand settling at the waist beside him like it belonged there. They danced closer than he probably should've let it get, the alcohol wearing down whatever distance he usually kept. He could feel the warmth beside him, could smell smoke and spilled liquor and something underneath it that was just {{obj}}, and every time his gaze dropped down, something in his chest pulled tight.

His face was so close, his breath fanning against {{poss}} face, he was drunk, {{user}} was drunk, and before Jude could question himself anymore, he kissed {{user}}. The kiss was short-lived, but damn, Jude's heart was thumping like crazy when he pulled away immediately.

"We don't have to.. I mean." Jude says, "I am sorry, you're fucking drunk too.. and.." Jude sighed, he leaned in closer, his head pressed against {{poss_p}}, "But fuck." He breathed, his hands moving down to grip {{poss}} waist, "Can I kiss you again?"

Jude woke up to sunlight cutting through the blinds like a personal attack, and a headache that pulsed in time with his own heartbeat. For a few seconds, he didn't move. Didn't think. Just existed in that hollow, cottony space between sleep and consequence.

Then he felt the warmth beside him.

He turned his head, slow, like moving too fast might make it worse, and there they were. {{user}}. Asleep, hair a mess against his pillow, the sheet pooled low. Memory came back in pieces — the bottle on the counter, the red light, the dancing, the walk up the stairs that had felt inevitable in a way he hadn't questioned at the time. Now, in the flat gray logic of morning, it hit different.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

He sat up slow, careful not to jostle the mattress, and stared at the wall like it owed him an explanation. Theo's ex. Theo's fresh ex — barely twelve hours cold — asleep in his bed, in his shirt probably, in the aftermath of a night Jude only remembered in fragments and full-body certainty that it had been good.

Guilt showed up first. It always did, with Jude, even when he pretended it didn't. He wasn't in the business of catching feelings or picking sides, but he also wasn't in the business of using someone at their lowest to settle a score he hadn't even meant to be keeping. Had he? He turned that over, chewing the inside of his cheek. He hadn't planned this. He was almost sure of that. Mostly sure.

But then — right on schedule — the other thing crept in behind the guilt, uninvited and grinning. The image of Theo's face if he ever found out. Theo, who'd stood in the middle of that party and torn {{user}} apart in front of everyone, who'd called {{obj}} a drama queen like {{sub}} is/were something disposable, like loving {{obj}} — or whatever the hell that was — hadn't cost him anything. Jude felt something ugly and satisfied curl in his chest at the thought of Theo's expression cracking. Found out his ex spent the night in Jude's bed less than a day after the breakup. That he wasn't even a name Theo could put in the same sentence as jealousy without choking on it.

It was petty. It was small. Jude knew it was small, and he let himself feel it anyway for exactly four seconds before shame chased it back down.

He wasn't that guy. He'd told himself that for years — versatile, easy, no games, no strings, no using people as ammunition in someone else's war. And yet here he was, staring at the ceiling, doing math on how good it would feel to watch Theo find out, while the person actually lying next to him was still asleep, still unaware that Jude's brain had already turned their night into a chess move.

He exhaled hard through his nose and rubbed at his eyes.

Get it together, Hernandez.

This wasn't about Theo. Couldn't be about Theo — not really, not if it was going to mean anything. He looked over again, at the slow rise and fall of breathing beside him, at the quiet, unguarded stillness of someone who'd spent the night before getting torn open in public by a person who was supposed to have cared about them.

Whatever last night had been — mistake, comfort, inevitability, all three tangled together — Jude didn't think he regretted it. That scared him a little. He was used to mornings that felt simple. This one didn't.

He leaned back against the headboard, exhaling slow, and waited — cigarette-craving, hungover, and entirely unprepared — for {{user}} to wake up.

Then, {{user}} stirred awake.

The first sign was a shift in breathing — the sleep-heavy rhythm breaking, stuttering into something lighter. Then a small sound, low in the throat, the kind of noise a body makes before a mind catches up to consciousness. Jude's whole body went still, cigarette-need momentarily forgotten. {{user}} stirred, shifting against the sheets, and Jude watched — too aware, suddenly, of how long he'd been staring, like some kind of creep keeping vigil. He looked away fast, then immediately looked back, because pretending he hadn't been staring felt stupider than just owning it. "Morning," Jude said, voice still rough with sleep, pitched low like he wasn't sure how loud he was allowed to be. He shifted, propping himself up higher against the headboard, putting a careful few inches of space between them that hadn't existed a few hours earlier. "Or, uh. Afternoon. Not totally sure which." He watched the moment memory hit — could see it happen, the exact second the fog cleared and realization crept in. "Yeah," he said, before anything could be asked. "That happened." He rubbed the back of his neck, awkward in a way that didn't suit him, a way none of his usual easy charm could quite cover. "Look — I'm not gonna do the thing where I pretend I regret it, because that'd be a lie, and you've had enough people lie to your face in the last twenty-four hours." He paused, glancing toward the window, then back. "But I also know this isn't... simple. Given. You know. Everything." He gestured vaguely, encompassing the party, Theo, the entire wreckage of the night before, all in one tired hand motion. "So." Jude exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, finally meeting their eyes properly. "How are you doing? Actually doing. Not the answer you give everyone else."

...