Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is a strange April's day – on the other hand, April is a strange month in general, so maybe it's just a pretty normal day. It's raining a little, and the sky looks like it's covered by one monstrous grey cloud, but at the same time, it's warm. Definitely not cold, at least. Not many people are outside. It's a Saturday, and usually, I wouldn't be anywhere else but home either. I've had to buy some groceries though, so I'm here, on my way back to my apartment, looking forward to an evening with myself, a cup of asia noodles and my beloved Atari. Typical day of a nerdy single-guy, probably. I don't know, to be honest. I don't care much about clichés or what other people say and I've never spent much time to try and understand that kind of stuff.

However, once in a while it happens, even to someone like me, a misanthropic nerd who's introverted as fuck, that I see someone out there who catches my attention and makes me look twice. And today, exactly that is happening, exactly this moment, as my eyes stare absently into space and suddenly spot something bizarre, like a drop of colour in the middle of a black and white newspaper, or the statue of liberty among an army of garden gnomes. Okay, that might've been a weird metaphor. Anyway. I'll try to explain in details what I'm seeing:

People walk by, all of them with a serious look on their faces, almost all of them holding an umbrella, and the ones who don't have one walk really fast. And, completely unfazed by the rain or the people passing him by, there is one young man leaning against a wall, without an umbrella but with an old-fashioned black hat, black boots, a violet coat that looks like it could've been worn by some big personality in a history book, and a very peculiar kind of smile on his face, like he's deep in thought and happy and nothing could change his mood, even if the world would perish tonight. Oh, and he's holding a glass of milk, like others would hold a coffee-to-go. All in all, a memorable image. At least to me.

„I like your outfit.“

I've said those words without thinking much about it, they've just fallen out of my mouth automatically when I've approached the guy more and more. And while I'm walking past him, not able to avert my gaze from him, everything seems to stand still or like some kind of slo-mo has been turned on – that's a cliché I know very well, and yes, I feel embarassed for using such a phrase. But I can't describe it in any other way.

He stands there, raises his eyes to me in slow motion, his smile still present but with a... dark aura surrounding him, for a lack of better words. And when he replies to me, his voice sends an equally pleasant and unpleasant shiver down my spine.

„Thanks, my brother,“ he says, his gaze piercing through my soul. „Likewise. Why don't you stop and have a little chat with me?“

That catches me completely off-guard, for some reason.

„A chat?“ I stop walking, like he said, and turn to him more, just observing him and his bizarre look for a moment. One of his eyes looks more piercing than the other, and I realize, it's because he's wearing long fake-eyelashes on that one side. My gaze goes to his glass once again. „Is that... milk?“

„It is, indeed!“ he replies, his smile turning more into a grin. „But not just milk. It's good ol' Moloko Plus. You want a sip?“

He says that as if it was a common term, like a cocktail or something that everyone knows and that can be ordered in every bar.

„Moloko Plus?“ I repeat with an awkward smile. „Sounds Russian...?“

In the back of my head, something rings, I'm just not sure what it is. I guess I've just heard the kids nowadays use a strange amount of Russian words when they talk to each other. But, like I said – I'm kind of an alien to the outside world, as edgy as that might sound.

„My friend,“ the guy says, letting out a brief chuckle as if it amuses him that I have no clue about anything. „Have you never been to the Korova Milk Bar? You should give it a try.“ Something seems to awake in his eyes as he looks at me closely. It's a little bit creepy, actually. His voice gets lower even as he adds: „I can take you there. I promise, it will be a smashing experience.“

„Smashing?“ This all sounds pretty crazy. I don't know what I'm getting myself into here but maybe it would be better to go home now. „Sorry,“ I say, way too hesitantly. „I'm not really into drugs. And it sounds like you're talking about drugs here.“ I'm still talking to this guy for some reason. „Thanks for the offer though. Have a nice day!“

„Waiiiit, wait, wait!“ As I turn around to leave, he reaches out and grabs my arm – not in a rough way but it sends an unexpectedly intense feeling through my whole body. Oh boy. „Our lovely chat has just begun, and you already want to leave? How rude! At least tell me your name, kind Sir!“

I turn to him once more, beginning to wonder if it really was a good idea to talk to this guy. I should've just ignored him, no matter how cool and special he looks.

„Phil,“ I answer him, regardless of the thoughts I've just had. The full name is Phillip Gravarg, by the way. But I prefer 'Phil', and a stranger doesn't need to know my last name.

„Really?“ he asks, chuckling. „You don't look like a Phil. I would've expected something like... Bjorn or Fenris or Erik.“

„Oh? I look that much Skandinavian?“ That actually makes me smirk a little. I mean, that's spot-on. „And what's your name, if I may ask? Judging by your clothes, it's Napoleon or something.“

Now he giggles like a child.

„I like that! But no. It's Alex.“ Alex. Huh. „Tell me, Phil,“ he continues, „what do you have against drugs? Or is it just you have never tried any?“

„I've never tried any,“ I respond truthfully. „And I don't plan to do so. I've already lost a friend to drugs a long time ago. Also, I don't even really see a reason to do drugs. Let's say, I... like to keep my head clear.“

Alex nods slightly, as if he's thinking about the things I've said.

„Do I look like someone who doesn't have a clear head to you?“ He doesn't sound like he's offended or anything, it sounds like a genuine question. But before I can answer, he's grabbed my wrist and pulled me very close – and his other hand is holding a knife, only inches away from my face. I swallow hard. I haven't even noticed that he's put his glass on the little wall behind him. „Answer me,“ he whispers, still smiling. „Or are you the one who can't use his gullliver properly right now?“

„I... uhh...“ He's right. It's quite difficult to think properly (at least that's what I think he means with 'use his gulliver' or whatever) when you could get your eyes poked out or your throat slit open the next second. „Why are you doing this? I didn't want to–“

Suddenly, it hits me.

Gangs attacking innocent people on the streets. Violent teenagers causing trouble. Citizens don't dare to leave their houses at night anymore.

„You... You're one of those gang-members the news always talk about, aren't you?“

„Aah. Now it's gettin' interesting,“ he warbles, and I sigh in relief when he loosens his grip around my wrist and puts the knife away. „What?“ he asks with a grin, looking at my probably confused face. „I was just joking. Do you think I'll make a mess here at the middle of the day? Oh, no, no.“ Another chuckle. He grabs his glass of milk – pardon, Moloko Plus – again and continues to take little sips, closing his eyes with relish. „But now I know that you're not the type who enjoys the ol' ultraviolence. You're more of a goodie-goodie.“

Yeah. Sure. That guy obviously has some screws loose, or he had a bit too many funny drops in his milk.

„Can I ask you a question?“ I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. I've already accepted that I won't just walk away and ignore him – maybe I'm tired of living or something but for some reason, I'm too curious right now to simply go home. „What about those things... is so fun to you? Why do you enjoy violence?“

He raises one eyebrow as if he couldn't believe that I asked him that.

„Why is it fun? My brother, violence is a great thing! Just look at those Roman men. They love the violence in the colosseum. A good ol' fight to death between gladiators is what keeps their minds off of all the taxes and war that's going on outside.“

„Hmm.“ I look past him for a moment, thinking. „You got a point there with the Romans. But isn't there a difference between arranged and consensual fights, and just... beating up people who can't really defend themselves?“ With a bit of a smirk, I look back at him, even though I still feel kinda scared on the inside. „Is it really so thrilling when you already know that you will 'win' in the end?“

„It is,“ he says. „You know, Phil – the power over a victim, the sheer satisfaction when you see that wonderful mixture of anger, fear and resignation in their eyes... That's an incredible feeling, I assure you.“ He finishes his milk with the most content look on his face. „All that hatred they're practically shooting at you because they realize their good reputation, all their hours of hard work, everything good they've done in their lives to go to heaven and meet Bog one day – all that doesn't help them when a bezoomny guy like me comes around and decides to give them a lil' series of tolchoks.“

I stare at him, not really knowing how to respond to that. Yes, he definitely is a bezoomny guy, whatever that actually means. He seems to have forgotten that he's not talking to one of his gang-members who probably understand that weird half-Russian slang.

„Alright,“ I finally reply. „So, if I get you correctly, the fun part about it for you is to be in control? To have power over others?“ I fold my arms, now slightly amused. „But what if you end up fighting someone who's stronger than you? And you're not in control anymore?“

„Then that'll be just as fun,“ he says, to my surprise, apparently just as amused. „Just because the victim is someone who's stronger or smarter than you doesn't mean the joy has to stop, my brother.“

„Really? That's interesting.“ I lean a tiny bit closer to him, out of a reflex or to appear more threatening (haha, good joke) or maybe just because this situation is... exciting in some way. „But if the 'victim' ends up being much stronger than you and beating you to the ground, making you helpless and fear for your life – aren't you the victim then?“

„Completely right,“ he says, not moving an inch, just grinning at me. „If someone beats me to the ground and makes me feel helpless and terrified, then I'm the victim in that scenario. And I've gotta say, that's a rather interesting position to be in, isn't it?“

Along with that last sentence, he gives me a wink, almost as if he was flirting with me. My heart skips a beat. Did he really do that? I must've imagined that. This is so absurd. Very much so, yeah, I'm trying really hard not to laugh.

„Are you a little masochistic maybe?“ I ask, a weak chuckle coming out of my throat and making my voice sound a little shaky. Thank you, throat. Or rather: thank you, stupid hormones, for making me act like a goddamn 17-year-old. Probably Alex's actual age, now that I think about it.

„Perhaps I am a little masochistic, Phil,“ he responds with an even wider grin than before. No, his grin isn't really wider – but the glint in his eyes makes it appear incredibly seductive, and now I don't have the slightest doubt anymore that he's flirting with me. „I must say,“ he continues, „you're a very interesting pal and I absolutely love our little chat! How about you?“

My pulse quickens. This isn't good. I shouldn't go any further with this, a voice in the back of my head tells me. A part of me that's trying to be a reasonable and responsible adult. I notice a person passing us by giving us a weird look, and that doesn't help at all.

„I'm enjoying this, too,“ I say quietly. „Would you... like to go to a bar or café with me? I'll pay.“

I hate myself. Alex looks like he's already expected this to happen. What a confidence.

„Well, well, well,“ he has that sing-songy tone again, „quite the gentleman, aren't you? I'd love that!“

„Okay. Alright. Then it's settled.“ Despite the fact that I'm probably getting into trouble – for various reasons –, I can't help but smile. I can't manage to look into Alex's eyes though. I'm smiling at the wall behind him. Hope the wall appreciates it. „I'll take you to my favourite bar. It's not very far from here.“

„Sounds great!“ he exclaims, giving me a slight pat on the shoulder. „How exciting! I can't wait to get to know you better, Phil!“

Still smiling at the wall, I nod faintly in response.

„Let's go then.“

And with that, I lead the way. He follows.

„Soooo.“ Alex looks around as we enter the location. It's a bar and a restaurant at once, not very big but cozy, and I've been here quite a few times – mostly on my own. „Nice place!“ he says, immediately making himself comfortable on a chair. „What should I drink? Do you recommend anything?“

„Personally, I like the sweet cocktails a lot.“ Awkward. Why do I feel so awkward now? „Swimming Pool or, uh... Banana Colada. That stuff. Really good.“

I can feel Alex's eyes on me, watching me attentively as I sit down next to him, quickly grabbing the menu so I have an excuse to look at something else but his face. I'm really beginning to wonder if this might've been the most terrible idea I've ever had. But too late, we're both here now, and his presence makes me nervous as hell.

„I'll take the Banana Colada then,“ I hear him say with a cheerful tone, and I gasp unintentionally when he leans over my shoulder to take a look at the menu I'm holding as well. „And... a hot dog maybe. Yes! A nice, big hot dog!“

Now I can't prevent my eyes from glancing at him anymore.

„A big one, hm?“ He's really close. An embarassing little giggle escapes my mouth, I'm so fucking nervous, I don't even know how long it's been since I've felt like that for the last time. „Are you familiar with this kind of things?“ I ask, and when I see his suggestive grin, I quickly add: „I mean – going to bars, drinking alcohol? Do you often go out in general?“

„Oh, that's pretty much part of my daily life,“ Alex laughs, leaning back on his chair, his arms folded behind his head. „Me and my droogs like to prowl around, have a drink together, see what's going on outside. But I also enjoy my alone-time.“

„Your 'droogs'?“

„Yes. My friends,“ he explains, smiling apologetically. „Excuse me. I sometimes forget that not everyone understands Nadsat.“ I give him a puzzled look, and his smile grows more amused. „The slang we're speaking – my droogs and I and... actually, most teens. Nadsat. It's also just a word for 'teenager'.“

„Ah...!“

I feel terribly old right now.

„And what about you, Phil?“, he asks before I can say anything else. „Do you often come here? Do you have many friends? What do you spend your time with?“

„Actually... I'm pretty boring. At least, compared to you.“ At that, he makes a gesture as if he wants to say „Of course, I took that for granted“. His cheeky smile is never leaving his face, I notice. „Well,“ I continue after a while, „what can I say about me? Yes, I come here quite often. But no, I don't have many friends. I never had, and I don't even think I'd want to change that. I cherish the time I can spend on my own.“ The way he looks at me tells me he's waiting for me to say more, and I look at the table, not sure what I should tell him or what he even wants to hear. „In my spare time, I pretty much do the typical things, to be honest. Reading, playing videogames... I like to sit in the park or a café sometimes with a book and my walkman. But apart from that, I'm usually at home – when I don't have to go to any courses or anything. For, uh, my study. I'm a psychology student.“

„Oh?“ His eyes widen, he seems to be impressed. „That is absolutely not boring, my friend. Psychology is a very interesting field!“

Yeah, it surely is. The fact that I've already abandoned two other studies though, that I'm currently signed off sick and that I'm just a fucked up, depressed guy who doesn't know if he can even stand a chance of achieving anything in his life – I'd rather keep that information to myself.

Luckily, a waiter arrives before I have to come up with anything else.

„What can I do for you?“ he asks, his eyes observing Alex like he's wondering if he has seen him anywhere before. Who knows how famous he is around people who don't live in a bubble. Or maybe 'infamous' is a better word.

„For him,“ I make a vague motion towards Alex, „a Banana Colada and a hot dog. And for me... a Swimming Pool and a cheeseburger, please.“

„Of course!“ the waiter says with a little bow, polite and friendly, like he was taught to be with all his guests, and he disappears. For some reason, I feel awkward again. Like I should say something, appear more interesting, do something entertaining. But all I do is trying to make those nasty strands of hair stay in the right place and not fall over my eye repeatedly. I'm not sure if I do that because it really annoys me so much or if it's more because I need to do something to not feel like the biggest fool on earth.

„I like your hair,“ Alex remarks, out of nowhere. Okay, no, he has probably noticed what I'm doing. I guess it's hard not to notice something like that.

„Thank you,“ I mumble, sounding way too bashful. „My mother always told me to cut it short. But I've always liked to wear it like this.“

„It's nice. You look like a rockstar,“ he says, staring at my hair over my shoulder, genuinely fascinated as it seems, and then reaches out to touch it, almost with caution. Another shiver runs down my spine, but this time it's entirely pleasant. Oh Lord. I hope the waiter returns quickly. Alcohol would be appreciated right now.

„You,“ I begin to say without even knowing how I want to finish the sentence. What was the last thing we talked about? Oh, yeah. Psychology. Studying. „Do you study anything? Or do you still go to school?“

Alex chuckles as if there's anything funny about that question. Well, who knows, maybe gang-members don't need all that stuff.

„What do you think how old I am?“ he asks back, and I look closely at his features, searching for any signs of his age. I thought he was a teenager because of all that Droog-Nadsat-stuff but I could be wrong. He could be anything between 17 and 25, actually, maybe even older.

„I have no clue,“ I reply. „You look pretty ageless, to be honest.“

„Well.“ Alex grins at me in a way I don't really understand yet. „If I told you my age – would you still be talking to me?“

„Uhm... Sure.“ I shrug. „I don't choose the people I talk to depending on superficial things like age, gender or whatever. A good conversation is a good conversation, isn't it?“ In an attempt to come across as cheeky or flirty – like him, you know –, I bend forward a little, returning his grin. „How old are you, Alex? Tell me.“

For a long moment, there is silence. His eyes are fixed on mine like he was looking straight into my soul or reading my thoughts. Then he opens his mouth.

„I'm fifteen.“

And my mouth opens as well but more in disbelief.

„Fifteen?“ I laugh nervously. „You're joking, right?“

„Nope.“ My reaction seems to amuse him a lot. Yeah. Haha. Very funny. „And now, Phil? Still willing to have a 'good conversation' with ol' me? Or maybe I should say 'young me'?“

The way he pronounces 'good conversation' sounds like it's a metaphor for something else. My heart is beating like crazy – for several reasons.

„Believe it or not... but yes,“ I respond after some seconds, giving him a smirk. „Like I said, I don't care about superficial factors. Age is a number. It doesn't make people more or less interesting.“

Apart from the ugly things people would think about me if they knew that I'm spending time with a 15-year-old. On the other hand, nobody, literally nobody, would suspect him to be that young from how he looks. I, on the contrary, look a bit younger than I actually am. On first glance, or even on second or third glance, people could assume we're about the same age.

„That is so nice to hear!“ Alex says, his grin full of mischief. „I admit, I was quite concerned you would change your mind about all this if you knew that I'm... well, not as adult as I might appear.“

He quickly shuts his mouth, obviously trying to put on a serious face, when the waiter returns to our table with our ordered drinks and food. Smelling the hot dog and cheeseburger, I realize how hungry I actually am.

„Thank you, Sir,“ I hear Alex say to the waiter before I can do so myself. So I just nod affirmingly, grab my burger and close my eyes as I take a bite of it which I drown with a large sip of my cocktail. A short moment of relaxation – until I open my eyes again and notice how Alex is staring at me, like a fox observing its prey. A cartoon-fox, I might add. Real foxes don't look like that. „Enjoying your meal, eh?“ he chuckles and raises his glass. „Cheers!“

„Yeah... Cheers.“

Alex takes a long sip of his drink as well, his expression turning kinda dreamy. It's almost cute.

„Now, may I ask you,“ he starts to speak again after a while, his lips still touching the straw. „What makes a sweet, charming guy like you go out with an ultraviolent, un-empathetic guy like me?“

That question was unexpected.

„Hm.“ Supporting my head on my hand, I take another sip from my drink, not averting my gaze from Alex. „I guess I just want to get to know you better? See what makes you... tick? You just seem to be an interesting person and very charming in your own way, you know?“

„Very charming in my own way?“ Alex repeats. „You mean my own little brand of violent tendencies, right, Phil?“ He gives me another small wink while he starts to eat his hot dog, and he looks at me like he tries to make sure that I'm looking at him as well. There is something quite intense about it. „Or do you mean... something more?“

Amused, I shake my head slightly.

„That's exactly not what I mean. What I mean is that... interesting contrast between those violent tendencies of yours and that extremely charismatic way you're talking. Your choice of words. The way you look and act, your body language. You seem to be... a smart guy, Alex.“

„Oh, really?“ That seems to have struck a chord in him. Again, he leans closer to me, that certain glint in his eyes. „Are you saying that I am the one who is enticing here? A smart guy who just happens to be a violent guy as well – that guy is enticing to you?“

„Maybe?“ I say, a bit surprised by that teasing tone in my voice. „There are so many boring people out there who just do what they've always done. They act like robots. You talk to them once and you already know how they tick.“ Yeah, that's true. Honestly, I'm sick of those people. „You might be violent and dangerous and someone to be afraid of... but you're definitely not boring. It's... nice to see a black sheep out here who breaks out of the system and doesn't follow the rules.“

Alex doesn't answer, at least not with words – he's chewing enthusiastically – but he seems very pleased with what I just said. Maybe even happy.

„Your... 'droogs' you've talked about. You really are a gang, right? And I guess you're their leader?“ I ask after a while. „I've heard all sorts of... heavy things about you. About the things you do.“

Alex looks proud, as if I had talked about a great event he's been a part of – an important game he's won with his team, or an amazing concert where he's played one of the most prominent instruments.

„Yes, that's me!“ he smiles. „Are you afraid of me, Phil?“

It takes me a moment to answer him – because I'm not sure about that myself.

„No,“ I respond eventually. „Not anymore. Because,“ I put one hand softly on Alex's cheek (maybe it's the alcohol), „you're just a boy with some... special interests, aren't you? And I don't think I have to be scared of you... have I?“ My hand on him feels good. Too good. „After all,“ I add a little quieter, „you can't always be the monster that beats people and rapes women and... whatever else you like doing. Sometimes, we all need to take a break from our public image... don't we?“

I might be imagining things but I think there's a faint blush on his cheeks now. For a couple of seconds, it is silent, and the atmosphere is oddly intense.

„I can be the most terrifying, Phil,“ Alex whispers after what seems like minutes, almost in a threatening way. But not really. It's more... playful. I sneer a bit with amusement but shudder slightly at the same time.

„I believe you. Absolutely.“

Does he feel just as excited as I do? Or is this nothing but a fun game for him, like all the other things he does for fun? His gaze is still fixed on my eyes and I think his breathing goes slightly quicker than before as I stroke his cheek very softly, feeling him leaning into the touch a little bit. He seems to enjoy my presence, he really does. And so do I. Even if I have no clue what this even is or what this could (should) become. It really is a mystery to me, but unfortunately, a very alluring one.

The tension lasts for a few moments longer, then I clear my throat and continue to sip my Swimming Pool and eat my burger, remembering that I'm hungry. This is surreal. I can't even describe properly what I'm feeling, the thoughts are rushing through my head but they all fade away only half-finished. Drinking alcohol probably won't help with that but it does help me feel more at ease and not go completely mad. What a double standard, I think to myself. Telling someone I'm not into drugs and like to keep my head clear, and then drinking because I don't have the balls to manage this situation while I'm sober. I should win the award for the biggest jerk in town.

Anyway. Apart from the concerning things I know about him – his age and his gang-history, for example –, Alex seems to be an extremely interesting person and we've had a nice evening in the bar. Until our glasses and plates were empty, we've talked about casual stuff; books, movies, music (apparently, he listens to Beethoven and other old, classical artists but doesn't mind my love for rock and metal) and also a little about different fields of psychology. Talking to him feels so natural, I'd even say I've had better conversations with him, with this 15-year-old boy I've only met today, than I've had with most other people throughout my life. I don't know if that says more about me or the people in my life. Or maybe he's just a very remarkable person.

After I've paid, for both him and me, like I've promised, he looks at me with an expression I can only interpret as expectant. Maybe even hopeful. I smile at him, still kind of awkward but not as much as before, thanks to my cocktail and the fact that I don't need much to get drunk.

„Would you like to see my apartment?“

His expression changes into a relieved one and he smiles at me in return. At this moment, one could believe he's a totally innocent, absolutely normal young man.

„Yes!“ he says euphorically. „Yes, I'd love to see your apartment!“

„I thought so.“ I put on my coat, grab my bag and then, hesitantly, hold out my hand to Alex. „Shall we go then?“

He stares at my hand, and his smile widens as he takes it into his, making him look like a freaking puppy that's about to go for its first walk.

„Yessir!“ he replies with a loud voice that makes me wince. Some people look over to us and I feel judged instantly – reminded of how very immoral all this actually is. A quiet but firm voice inside my brain tells me to ignore that feeling though. And yes, I do my best to ignore it. For now. Let's just be a fucking creep who takes a kid to his apartment, why the hell not! It's not like I had anything to lose.

Internally laughing at myself for how low I've apparently went, I leave the bar with Alex while I'm holding his hand.

The air is cool by now and the sky is already dark as we walk through the streets. The feeling of doing something very, very questionable and being judged has vanished somehow. There aren't many people passing us by, and the ones who do probably don't see much in the darkness. They won't suspect anything, I tell myself. They don't know who he is. The only reason they would judge him and me holding hands is that we're both males, and that's something I'm used to. Nothing new. That's how people are.

„You know,“ Alex breaks the silence after some minutes. „It may sound cheesy but... I've never felt like this about anyone before.“

He sounds so serious all of a sudden, and when I turn to him, I can see that his face suits that impression. There is something melancholic about the way he looks.

„It's not as cheesy as it sounds.“ And even if it is, I don't mind. I could say the same about him. But I don't. „Have you even been with a guy before?“ I ask instead.

Alex stops in his tracks and shakes his head.

„No. I've just... never really found anyone that intrigued me and made a good first impression until now. But I've been wanting to explore that side of myself for a long time.“

His voice is soft and he looks to the side. Alright. So Alex has already had thoughts about other men and just didn't have an opportunity to make them reality so far. Or he was too afraid. There are many potential reasons. His sudden shyness suggests that it's nothing he usually talks about.

„I understand that,“ I say, and it's not just a phrase. „I wouldn't want to be intimate with someone who isn't intriguing to me in any way either. Also... There's no need to rush such things, right? You didn't even have that much time yet to experiment with your... sexuality.“ Yeah. One or two years at most. At least I hope his first time didn't happen much earlier. I don't really want to think about that. „Are you... really only fifteen? You certainly don't look and act like someone that young!“

Alex chuckles.

„Thanks. I take that as a compliment,“ is all he says in return. I suppose he's told me the truth then. Oh boy.

„Can I ask you something?“ My free hand clutches at my coat, I notice. I can't even control it. „Have you... ever been with anyone in a consensual way? Or are you only experienced with taking control over women? Who can't defend themselves properly, I mean...?“ Let's just pretend this isn't a totally messed up question to ask someone. „You've always been in power so far... right? So this situation is something entirely new for you, I guess.“

Alex's eyes dart to the side again and, for a second, he bites his lip.

„I've rarely been with anyone in a real consensual way. And when I was, it was nothing serious. Not more than a flirt, a little exchange of... bodily fluids.“

Bodily fluids. Sure. You don't have to be an expert in the analysis of body language to see that he's not really comfortable with this topic – at least not now.

„Does this make you nervous?“ I ask him quietly, leaning a bit closer to him out of an impulse as I realize how much I enjoy driving him into a corner. „What are you afraid of?“

I can see that he's trembling slightly, or maybe I feel it rather than seeing it.

„I'm not afraid of you, Phil,“ he responds just as quietly, his eyes now raised at mine. He's shorter than me, at least four inches. „I'm afraid of being powerless in front of you.“

Yes. Exactly what I thought.

„Of course it frightens you,“ I say, a sudden confidence growing in me, and after a short moment of hesitation, I wrap my arms gently around his waist. „The unknown is often frightening. But does it feel good?“

Alex seems to think about that but it doesn't take him too long before he answers me.

„Yes,“ he says (God, he sounds so vulnerable). „It feels good, yes.“

And hearing him say that with that innocent look in his eyes that are glaring up at me, wide open and full of emotions and a certain fear – it does something with me. It nearly makes my heart melt, and when I slide my hand over his back and feel him shudder, I can barely hold myself back anymore, hell, it really feels good, it does. Alex shuts his eyes as I get even closer to him, and his arms cautiously close around me, like a silent permission for me to go on. That's enough for me to take that last step, and my whole body seems to be covered in goosebumps when my lips touch his. He gasps slightly against my mouth but the next moment, he kisses me, his hands clawing into my coat. And, in all honesty, I think I can't put into words what I'm going through this moment. I can still feel his vulnerability, the trust he must feel towards me right now, the walls around him falling apart. I can feel that this is something he usually wouldn't do, but for me, just for me, he puts himself into this defenseless position. On the other hand, I know about the knife in his pocket, he isn't really defenseless, he could kill me if he wanted to, and there's something about that, about that potential danger he radiates, that makes me so weak. But the feeling of power I have over him, the thought that I can make him nervous, someone who usually has control over others himself, who's usually not scared of anything – that feeling is stronger.

Still pressing him tight to my chest, my other hand slides upwards to caress his neck, and suddenly, I'm aware of something.

I won't be able to stop this. Whatever 'this' actually is – I will get addicted to it; it will become more and more intense and I won't want to let it go anymore. That's probably why I kept talking to him in the first place, even though my brain told me to leave. It's like he's radiating some toxic scent that also smells so good, so fascinating, that you just need to figure out what it's made of.

Alex looks a bit dizzy when I pull away from him slowly and his eyes open again. Because of me, it instantly echoes in my head, I made him feel this way, I have control over him, oh yes, I do.

„My,“ he says, not more than a breath. He tries to collect himself, as it seems, and then a sweet little giggle escapes his mouth. „That was– I really liked that.“

Liked that, I think. For me, that would be an understatement.

I don't know what to say, I'm still trying to calm down. It might not be visible on the outside, but inside me, there's pure chaos. So I keep quiet and just continue to stroke his neck lightly, almost a bit too softly, as if he was made of porcelain.

„You know,“ I finally say. „If you really come to my apartment with me and we... go even further – I have no clue where this will lead. Maybe I will get... a little obsessed with you.“ I have to laugh out of insecurity. „So, if you're not sure about this and feel uncomfortable in any way... you should walk away now.“

„Are you trying to scare me?“ Alex grins at me, his posture now upright, his tone almost mocking. „Well, you're not doing a bad job with that,“ he adds a bit later, clicks his tongue and then leans very close, his breath grazing my neck as he whispers: „But I'm not scared enough to run.“

He leans against me with his whole body, as if he wants to make sure I will keep holding him in my arms. Like a woman clinging to her boyfriend.

„Alright.“ I pet his hair softly. I indeed don't want to let him go. „Don't say I didn't warn you...“

He chuckles.

„Worried I can't take care of myself?“ He's a little drunk, I think. Maybe he isn't so soft and clingy when he's sober. But is he even ever sober? Or does he consume that ominous drug-milk everyday? „Let's move along, shall we?“ he says after a while, grabbing my hand with a big, happy smile. „Lead the way!“

I only nod, being at a loss for words.

„Yes.“

I squeeze his hand. And we walk on.

Chapter Text

„It's been a while since I've had a guest here.“

I'm staring at the table in front of me but I don't really see it. I'm not sure what I'm seeing at this moment. My head is empty and full at the same time.

„Oh, really?“ I hear that voice from right next to me, that voice that manages to send a shiver down my spine yet again. The voice of this boy I've just met on the street – boy, not even a man – and who now sits here on the couch with me, in my living room, instead of being with his little gang of teenage-criminals. It's surreal, simply surreal. „I guess that means I'm special then, Phil?“

I turn to him after a moment, trying to find anything in his face that tells me more about his intentions, his feelings. I feel incredibly naive, and I'm the one here who's an adult and has taken a minor home with him. Really, what an absurd situation.

„I guess you could say so, yes,“ I answer him, trying to give him a small smile. He's already made himself pretty comfortable in here. He said he likes my apartment, that it would suit me very well. That it doesn't look as sterile and cold as most other apartments of adults he has seen, and I've inevitably wondered if that's what he secretly craves – a warm place to feel safe in. Maybe he himself isn't as cold as he wants others to believe. „Tell me, Alex,“ I begin, hesitantly. „What do you like so much about me? What makes you so fascinated that you go home with a stranger?“ I'm not sure if it's okay that this makes me smirk a bit. „Won't your parents get worried?“

Alex chuckles at that.

„Nah. They don't get worried so easily,“ he says, and I don't think that's really a good thing. „Well, what do I like about you? I can tell that you have something many people in our sad, sad society don't have – a personality.“ He returns my smirk, apparently amused. „There's a certain power about you. It's like, in one way or another, you are just... really intriguing.“

„Intriguing, hm?“ The look he gives me is full of desire. It's obvious that he didn't just come with me to have a nice movie-night together. „So are you. You're... very intriguing for some reason.“

Alex's smirk widens. I guess it's not the first time that he's gotten such a compliment.

„And why is that?“ he asks, as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from me, personally.

„Like I said – I want to find out more about you. What really makes you tick. What's underneath all that... merciless violence of yours.“ I really do. So badly. It's like a strong urge I absolutely can't ignore. „I like the thought of... taking all that control from you and see what you look like when you're not in power anymore.“

He smiles and shakes his head.

„And what does that make you, hm? What are you like when you aren't being a perfect gentleman, I wonder?“

„Hmm.“ If only I knew that myself. What does that make me? It feels like I'm not quite my normal self with him anyway, like an unknown part of me is slowly taking over. But it doesn't feel like it's an entirely different person taking me over, more like some hidden part of me that wouldn't come alive apart from this specific situation, with this specific person. I can't help but chuckle quietly and return Alex's teasing stare as I dare to take another step forward and place my hand on his thigh. „That's for you to find out.“

That mischievous smile is still there, maybe even a bit more mischievous than before. But other than that, he doesn't react. He seems to wait for me to do more, to go even further, and for a moment, I don't know anymore if I even can. Hell, I don't know if I've ever been so conflicted.

„Are you,“ I say and pause for a few seconds. „Are you comfortable with a man almost twice your age flirting with you? Touching you?“

Alex is hesitant but nods eventually.

„Yes.“ His hand slowly covers mine, as if to assure me that he likes it lying on his thigh. His voice sounds a little bit shaky but not like he's scared. More like he's overwhelmed (just as I am) and shivers with anticipation. „Believe me, I can handle this.“

„Really?“ My hand moves a bit underneath his, stroking his thigh very softly and affectionately, and I hear him gasp. „Wasn't there a slight tremble in your voice?“ I ask with a smirk, only a whisper. Alex closes his eyes and bites his lip slightly, apparently trying really hard to keep cool.

„M-maybe there was,“ he says, and my heart makes a leap as I don't miss the little stuttering in his words. „You're just making me a tad bit nervous, Phil. That's all.“

„Oh.“ That makes me laugh again for some reason. There isn't anything funny about it. I guess I'm a bit drunk, too. „Someone like you gets nervous? So easily?“ I ask him, now in the mood to tease him until he loses his cool. I keep stroking his thigh, and slowly, very slowly, I let my hand slide closer to his crotch. A quick glance, and I can see that he's already hard. I swallow slightly. „Do you want me to make you tremble even more?“

Alex's face flushes visibly. It's plain to see how nervous I make him – and I enjoy it so much, even though the way I'm talking to him makes me feel a bit like some stupid wannabe. It seems to have an effect on him though.

„I... I wouldn't mind,“ he says, looking right into my eyes. Then he leans closer to me and lowers his voice. „But I'll leave that decision up to you.“

I bring myself to relax a bit when I see him smiling, and I just can't resist but keep touching him. Closing my eyes, I start kissing Alex's neck gently while still stroking his thigh at the same time, and after a while, I feel very brave and sink my teeth carefully into Alex's neck, causing him to let out an adorable whimper that makes my whole body shiver with arousal. This almost feels too good. I really can't help but smile dreamily, my eyes still closed and my lips still against Alex's neck, and in the next moment, I softly let my tongue wander across his brandnew bitemark. He breathes in sharply, and as I move my hand even further and stroke that lovely bulge between his thighs, his hissing noises turn into a moan. I open my eyes and see him sitting there, his mouth slightly open, looking almost mesmerized.

„This feels incredible,“ I mumble absently, putting my other arm around him while I keep stroking him through his pants. Alex nods but has a look in his eyes that makes him appear like a puppy once again. A lost little puppy, dammit. As if his eyes were saying „Someone please help me, I'm not used to this, what am I doing?“. I bet this is the exact opposite of how he usually is.

„Just relax now,“ I whisper, trying to sound soothing and somewhat confident. „Relax and just... let go. Will you do that for me?“

I guess I sound more like a psychopath, actually. But whatever. Alex lets out a deep sigh.

„I'll try,“ he says quietly before he breathes in and out slowly, doing his best to calm down, as it seems. I wait for a moment and watch Alex control his breath. Then I press him softly against the cushions, bend forward and use my lips and tongue again to caress not only his neck but every piece of bare skin I can find. Simultaneously, I continue to take care of his crotch, adding a little more pressure to my touch. Alex closes his eyes and lets me do as I please, his breathing still regular, and in general, he really seems relaxed now. Almost as if he's under a spell.

How can someone who causes so much harm just for fun look so innocent? I have a feeling that he himself isn't quite that familiar with this side of himself, and being the one who brings out a softer side in someone like him feels strangely pleasant.

Alex looks at me with a hint of... uncertainty? Anxiety? Whatever it is, he gives me that look when I take his hat off and put it on the table. I can imagine why. It's probably an established part of his whole outfit, serving the purpose of making him appear intimidating. Like someone you won't forget. Without it, he's just a guy. Well, a guy with psychopathic tendencies for sure, but still.

After taking away his hat, I start to unbutton his shirt and he shifts a little to help me take it off him as well so that he's now sitting there half-naked, and, what can I say, there's really nothing to complain. Gently, I put one hand on his chest, run it down his torso slowly, feel his soft skin and his muscles. No. Definitely not what a 15-year-old usually looks like.

„You're well aware of how handsome you are, aren't you?“

A cute little chuckle escapes him, like he's flattered and embarassed and lost for words all at the same time.

„Maybe?“ he just says, that's all. It's clear that he's overwhelmed and probably hasn't experienced anything like this before. I must admit, I like that circumstance. I like seeing him like that. And in the back of my head, I feel guilty for it.

Alex lets out another little whimper when I move closer to his exposed upper body and begin to kiss his chest, softly sliding my tongue over his nipple while I stroke his waist slowly with one hand. The realization is very blurred, it's only somewhere in the back of my subconscious, but I'm aware of how those feelings inside of me (those wrong feelings, goddamn, I could get arrested for this!) grow stronger with each minute and how absorbed I already am in this whole situation. I keep caressing him with my lips, tongue and hands, getting a bit more passionate with time but I'm still careful. Then I interrupt myself and look up into his eyes.

„I know you've had sex before, several times. But this is still kinda new to you, right?“

Alex nods, giving me an awkward kind of smile that makes my heart melt a little.

„Yes. Like I said, this is... new to me,“ he responds slowly, absolutely not sounding like the powerful, violent gang-boss he apparently is.

„I can tell,“ I say and take in the sight of him for a while, how shy and sweet he looks, how his body is trembling, before I place my hand on the back of his neck. „I want to be fair and don't want to scare you too much, so I'll ask you before I do anything else – how much can you take, Alex?“

He stares back at me and his cheeky smirk returns, maybe not as cheeky as it was earlier when he was more in control but it's not as shy as it was just moments ago.

„I'll take anything that you'd give me.“

And there goes the last bit of my composure.

„Really? Anything?“ My pulse quickens again, this is like one very, very weird wet dream. „Will you... really give yourself to me completely?“

Alex looks very determined all of a sudden. Maybe he's in a similar state as me and has given up any attempt to fight his impulses.

„Yes,“ he simply says, his skin feeling hot under my fingers. Not averting my gaze from his face, I nod and give him a smile.

„Alright. If that's really what you want...“ Leaning closer to him once again, I whisper into his ear with a soft grin. „Then you're mine tonight.“

Besides the growing arousal and the excitement, there's also something else in his eyes now. Something pure and simple, but it seems to be something he's just discovering himself.

„You can bet I am,“ he whispers back to me, not a hint of awkwardness in his voice anymore – which helps me feel less awkward as well.

„Wait here,“ I say. „I'll be right back!“

He doesn't question anything nor does he move despite turning his head a little as I get up from the couch and go into the bedroom. After about a minute, I'm back in the living room with a huge smile and a few things I put on the table. Alex leans forward as if to see what I brought with me but I block his view with an amused „Uh-uh“-sound. He seems to understand and chuckles.

„Now... Would you please get on your knees and elbows for me?“ I ask, or let's say, I demand in a polite and friendly way. Of course I would never actually demand such a thing from him if he wouldn't want to – but I'm pretty sure he's in the mood to follow my instructions. And apparently, I've guessed correctly, it doesn't take long until he's in the exact position I've wanted him to be. Alex looks at me with wide open eyes.

„I wonder what's going to happen now!“ he says in an exaggerated manner, and I can guess that he isn't half as clueless. But I play along with his little game.

„What do you think is going to happen, hm? What do you think I want to do?“

It's obvious that he's trying very hard not to laugh. He can't hide his knowing grin though.

„You wanna take control,“ he answers me, and it doesn't look like he minds that at all. I have to chuckle a bit.

„Yes,“ I say. „Yes, that's right. And to be even more in control,“ I reach out to the table, take one of the things I've put there – a rope – and bend forward to Alex, „I'm gonna make sure that you can't escape.“

He makes a kind of surprised noise when I grab his wrists and start tying them together. Not in a rough way, I'm still gentle with him, but tight enough that the knot won't loosen up by itself. Then I tie the other end of the rope to a table leg. Alex doesn't even try to resist or pull away. He just examines the rope around his wrists as if he's fascinated by it and then lifts his head to me once again with his crooked smile.

„Looks like I'm at your mercy.“

„Oh yes... You are.“ What a picture, I think to myself. Him, kneeling there on all fours, tied up, shirtless, being at my mercy, like he has said himself. It is wonderful. „I really like the way you look now.“

Alex looks down for a short while, away from me, like the uncertainty and the embarassment of being so vulnerable in front of someone have taken him over again. But only for a few seconds, as it seems.

„You do?“ he asks with a provocative undertone. I'm still taking in his sight with so much joy.

„Yes. Very much,“ I reply to him. Why should I lie? „Tell me – how does it feel to be tied up in that position?“

His eyes dart away again but more as if he's thinking.

„It feels... unfamiliar.“

„Hm.“ I can imagine that very well, yeah. No one would dare to come too close to a brutal, ruthless criminal like him, at least no one in their right mind, and not in this certain way I do right now, I suppose. „How about I... expose you even more?“ I suggest while moving my hand from his hair down his back, stopping at his waistband. I pull at it teasingly, causing Alex to gasp and give me a smirk over his shoulder.

„Do your worst,“ he says. As if he's expecting me to do something really bad to him. My hand still on his waistband, I tilt my head slightly.

„You make it sound like I was planning to hurt you. Do you think that's what I have on my mind?“

„Well, I don't know.“ Alex cackles. It has that cartoon-fox-vibe again. „But you seem to get off on me being at your mercy...“

„Oh yes. You're right about that.“

I can't say I'm proud of it. But there's no point in denying anything, and I do, most certainly, get off on that. My hand tightens around his waistband, and when I finally feel brave enough to pull his pants and shorts down to his knees, Alex lets out another sharp gasp and gives me one more mischievous smile. Seeing him like this does all sorts of things with me, but most of all, it makes me incredibly hot.

„How do you feel now?“ I ask him quietly, kind of flirtatiously, as I let my hand run down his back again and let it rest on his (really pretty) ass. It could be I'm only imagining it but I think I see quite a deep blush on his face.

„I'm not sure,“ he says, his grin creating such an interesting contrast to his words. „A little embarassed.“

„Embarassed, hm? You don't really seem so embarassed. You still have kind of a... cheeky look on your face, haven't you?“

Alex looks directly back at me, and his whole posture and expression seem to say something like „You won, I give up!“, but with a wink, as if that's exactly what he wants.

„I guess I'm just a naturally cheeky bastard,“ he says, his blue puppy-eyes on me that are full of anticipation, arousal and... yes, maybe a bit of embarassment. Or even a hint of fear. But first of all, he looks really naughty, and I have to fight the urge to give that cute backside that's positioned so nicely in front of me a few smacks. Instead, I just let my hand slide down the back of his thigh.

„I like how you still have such a provocative aura around you, despite this situation you're in right now. That really... turns me on.“

Alex lets out a little exhale of a laugh, and his eyes follow the movement of my hand, at least as far as he can see over his shoulder.

„I think that may be my pride right now, eh? My last line of defence,“ he explains, and I don't really understand why but hearing him say that is like the final straw for me, it really strikes a chord and has me burning with that goddamn desire to fuck him until he screams my name. That's not even a feeling I'm used to, being so... dominant. It must be him. He makes me crazy.

„Mmh,“ is all I'm able to respond in this moment. You're a bad person, that little voice in my head tells me. But at this point, I don't really care anymore. Trying to control myself (at least a bit), I slide my hand up Alex's thigh again before moving it forward slowly to stroke his cock for a short instance, waiting to see his reaction. Alex lets out a muffled sound, a sound of surprise maybe – but it doesn't seem like my touch is unwelcome. So I wait for a bit longer and then close my hand around him very slightly, giving him some soft, slow strokes, and apparently, he can't hold back so well anymore now. A breathy, almost desperate sounding moan comes out of his throat, and again, he raises his gaze to me and doesn't break the eye contact for a long time. My stomach clenches. His body jerks. He tries to hide it, I can see that; he tries to remain as calm and still as he can. I guess it's some kind of game for him, he wants to show me how much he can take without blinking an eye. But he's failing at that, and he knows. That wall around him falls apart more and more. Because of me. I smile.

„Close your eyes,“ I say quietly. Alex does as he's told, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

„I've closed my eyes, Phil.“

„I see.“ Casting a glance at his face now and then to make sure his eyes really stay closed, I reach out to the table and take two of the other things I've put there – a bottle of lube and a pretty impressive buttplug I've once bought when I've entered a sex shop for the very first time and didn't know much about toys and sizes. Alex's eyes are still closed, I note. I pet his head softly, running my hand through his thick fair hair. „Very good,“ I say (causing him to sigh in pleasure, apparently) before I open the bottle as quietly as possible, apply some of its content to the plug and wait for a moment, again, to see if I can read anything in his face. I can't. Except for the growing anticipation and everything I've already noticed before, I really can't tell what he's thinking right now. That will change though, I assume.

Bending over to him, I place a gentle little kiss on the back of his neck that makes him wince a little bit, probably because it was unexpected. But I'm sure he already suspects something. He definitely isn't as innocent as his puppy-eyes may try to make me believe. Getting a bit lost in thoughts, I continue to kiss his neck, suddenly feeling so much affection, and I whisper something against his skin. „You're doing so well,“ or something like that, I'm not even sure. It's like I'm in another sphere now. I feel Alex shiver, and when I bring my hand to his ass again and slide the lubed plug up and down between his cheeks, practically rimming him with the tip of the toy, his self-control falls apart even more.

„God,“ I hear him whisper (well, actually, it sounds more like "Bog", but I assume that's the same), his hands clutching at the cushions, and he lets out another beautiful moan as I press the plug softly against his hole, not yet pushing it in. His breath hitches, it almost sounds like he's whimpering silently. Again, I feel my stomach clench.

„Just relax, alright?“ I say, fondling his neck soothingly. „I promise, we will take this slow.“

With some effort, as it seems, Alex brings himself to nod, mumbling a bashful little „Okay“ in response that makes my heart beat so fast it almost makes me dizzy. There isn't anything cheeky or provocative about him anymore. And most certainly nothing dangerous. He's just a tied up, defenseless guy right now, afraid but also excited by the unknown.

„Very good.“ Still caressing his neck, I smile, taking in and savouring everything that's happening as long as it lasts. „Very good,“ I repeat, quieter than before, and then, slowly and carefully, I push the plug inside him, not averting my gaze from his face. Alex makes an adorable little sound of which I'm not quite sure what exactly it means. It could be joy, it could be pain – but probably, it's both.

„Be... Be gentle with me, okay?“

He looks at me over his shoulder again, and his eyes tell me that he still wants this despite him being nervous. I can feel another wave of affection rush through my soul and body. It's not even funny.

„Of course,“ I assure him, letting go of the plug for now to admire how the hilt looks while it's sticking out from between his cheeks. I can't help but stroke his ass softly. His skin is so smooth, and his whole body shape kind of reminds me of those handsome, naked young men from those old paintings you sometimes get to see in school books. That weird association almost makes me laugh for a second. „It's the first time you have something inside you, I guess...?“

Alex looks at the cushions as if he's watching something going on there.

„Yeah... First time.“

"Thought so.“ I carefully place my hand around his face. „And do you like it so far?“

He nods, smiling a little bit.

„Yes... I like it,“ he says, and he sounds like he's ashamed because of that but not in a way he can't handle. Cute. It's goddamn cute and hot at the same time.

„That's good,“ I reply to him slowly. „You know... I'd like to replace that little toy with myself in the end, after all.“ Hesitantly, I grab the hilt of the plug again and pull it out of him just to push it back in the next moment. Alex lets out another one of those adorable virgin moans. I could listen to that all night long. „Would you like to... feel me this way?“

He doesn't respond immediately, he just continues to stare at the cushions, taking long, deep breaths, something I know from my studies. And from my own times in therapy. It helps to keep calm and avoid a panic attack or a loss of reality. Focussing on one object, controlling one's breath.
„There's nothing,“ he finally says, and I hear a bit of a cheeky tone in his voice again, „I want more... than to feel you the way I feel this plug right now.“

Holy Jesus and Moses, I think to myself (and I'm not even religious). That guy is completely killing me.

„I'm glad to hear that,“ I respond, trying not to sound too obviously horny. I don't want to come across as one of those deprived men whose only goal in life is to put their dicks into as many fresh, well-built bodies as possible, just for the sake of being a sex-lord or whatever. That's not what I am or ever will be. But I can't deny that I have certain... carnal desires now and then. Not often, but it happens. And he's doing a good job at reminding me of that this moment. Seems it's been way too long since I've been close to or even interested in anyone last time, and now it's all washing over me with full force. Maybe it's not even so much the physical aspect of it that I've missed but the, well... the intimacy. The thought of someone else existing who makes me feel less like a zombie that's rotting away a bit more day by day and more like an actual person that's actually... desirable.

Sighing, I slide my hand across his face until it comes to rest on his chin, and I take the opportunity to lift it up a little so he looks into my eyes.

„Alex... Just... Promise me something, okay?“ Alex doesn't speak. He simply returns my gaze and gives me all his attention. „What I'm doing with you here – please keep that to yourself, alright? You know, it's nothing personal, yeah? It's just... you don't want me to get in trouble, do you?“

It takes a while but then it seems to hit him. The fact that this is something society would never accept – and not just because we're both male or because it's a very weird kind of connection that's growing between us.

„I promise,“ Alex says after a moment. He says it with a serious face, and it somehow makes me smile a tiny bit. I actually believe him. I actually believe that he means it and that he doesn't want me to end up in prison. And right now, I don't even care if it's wrong or against the law what I'm doing here; I don't feel guilty anymore, I don't want to feel guilty. I just want to be with someone who makes me feel good and sees me for who I am, for God's sake – just for once. And with him, I surely don't need to feel guilty for anything anyway. Not with someone who gives a fuck about rules and laws and has given up on any kind of morals entirely.

„Thank you,“ I say softly. „Thank you. I hope I can trust you. I really want to.“

„You can. And I won't judge you for anything. In fact...“ Alex smirks, pausing for a few seconds. „... I enjoy this more than you can even imagine.“

„Oh? Well, actually, I can imagine that very well,“ I respond, smirking back at him. „As far as I know, people who act in a very dominant and bossy way have often been suppressed and treated like shit for a long time in their lives. They've always been a victim and then turn into a bully themselves. Or, maybe not a bully but someone who's... in charge. They need that new position to compensate, to vent, to let out everything that's been building up for all that time. Because, sadly, that's just how the world works – there's always a side that's in power, and another side that's expected to obey.“ I stroke his hip with my fingertips. „And I guess, it's the same the other way round. It's only natural that... someone who's usually the one in power feels the need to take a break from all that and give the control to someone else. To just let go. To just... obey someone from the other side for once.“

Alex's eyes widen a bit. He seems to ponder what I just said but then, the corner of his mouth curls up a little.

„You're not wrong about that,“ he simply says, almost looking fascinated in some way. Maybe he isn't used to having deeper conversations like this. Who knows what he talks about with his 'droogs' or with his parents. If he even has private conversations with them at all. Maybe they're more like business partners or something.

„I know,“ I mumble after a moment. „And I knew you would agree with me.“ Smirking, I tighten my grip around the hilt of the plug. „Most of us don't stay in the same position for their entire lives. We experience being both in the position of a master and in the position of a servant in some way. Teacher or student. Bully or victim. Whatever. And I think... that's just the way it is.“ I play a little with the plug, move it in circles and press it deeper inside him in a teasing way. „You've been in power for a while now, haven't you? Now it's your time to be... at someone's mercy.“

And as I say that, I instantly wonder myself: If he is the one who's usually powerful and now enjoys experiencing the other side of the coin - does that mean it's perhaps the same with me? Alex still looks like he's pondering, too, but he seems to be distracted by the things I'm doing; his head tilts back and he breathes in sharply, opening his mouth as if he wants to say something – but nothing comes out. There's something about his expression that reminds me of someone who's in a trance. I enjoy watching him so much.

„Feels good, huh?“

I keep moving the plug, and with the other hand, I reach between his legs from the other side and rub his erection a little, both hands teasing him in a different way. He moans slightly, his eyes half closed, and I hear him utter a very quiet „Yes“, barely even audible. Nothing more. And that silent „Yes“ is enough at this moment to make me feel like I'm on top of the world, like I'm so lucky to get to see a person like him, like Alex, like... this.

„You really are cute when you're speechless,“ I remark and let go of him to get up from the couch. „How about I turn on some relaxing music, hm?“

Without really waiting for his answer, I walk to my stereo on the other side of the room, searching for something that I think both of us would enjoy now. And it doesn't take too long until I find something.

„Are you okay with Pink Floyd?“

I hear a faint chuckle from the couch.

„Who wouldn't be?“

„Right,“ I say, grinning, as I put on one of my favourite records by said band (the 'Wish you were here'-album, to be more precisely). When I go back to him, his whole posture seems to have loosened up and there's a small smile on his face, like he's happy with my choice of music. I sit down next to him, in a way that allows me to look into his eyes, and stroke his tied hands softly. „I'm really starting to like you...“

Alex lowers his eyes, probably flustered – not able to hold my gaze, as it seems.

„Likewise,“ he mutters, his voice deep and full of a certain appetite for more. Not only for physical contact though – at least that's not my impression. He rather seems to be yearning for all kinds of contact, as if he's starving, desperate for some... affection. Some kind of attention but not in the way he usually knows. Maybe I'm reading too much into it all. But that's what it looks like to me. And it makes me so goddamn weak, I don't even know how to process such a strong feeling anymore. Alex does something to me, whatever exactly it is, and I think I'm losing control over it. Also, the way he's tied up there on my couch, in this certain position he's in out of his own free will... It's almost heavenly, I think to myself. The great gang leader, feared for his brutality, is now kneeling in my living room, behaving submissively and giving himself to me. Like I'm an exception to him, like he sees something in me that makes him feel safe enough to cast off the hard shell he's usually wearing.

Shit, I want to know everything there is to learn about him. I want to connect to him so much more. Letting out a quiet sigh, I take Alex's hands in mine eventually and place them on my lap so there's more space for me to move even closer to him. For an instant, I'm a little distracted by how close his hands are to my crotch now – but then I concentrate on his face again and put an arm around his shoulder, making him gasp once again. He's really sensitive, I note.

„Have you gotten used to the plug by now?“ I ask, not really trying to hide how much I like it to have him in this position. His gaze meets mine again, it's obviously awkward for him but he gives me another smile that melts my heart.

„Yeah,“ Alex replies, his voice almost breaking. „You're making it easy to cope with it...“

'Easy to cope with it'. For some reason, that feels like a really nice compliment. I'm not sure if anyone has ever told me I made anything feel 'easy'. Makes me laugh a little bit which is probably kinda inappropriate in this situation.

„Glad to hear that...!“ I clear my throat. „Then... move your hips a little for me.“ It's a spontaneous idea, and considering that, I've said those words with an impressively firm voice. Hell, I'm saying all of this with an impressively firm voice considering that I'm usually awkward as fuck around strangers. „I want to see you stimulating yourself,“ I continue, my hand tightening a bit around his. „Just from the movements, without any touch. Will you do that for me?“

Alex nods hesitantly and gives me another „Yes“, as if he's under some kind of spell and can't reject anything I say. He seems very shy though, ashamed of this side of himself he's discovering but at the same time too fascinated to stop exploring it. And when he starts to move his hips, it almost looks like he's barely even seen or done anything sexual in his life. The movements are rather twitches than anything else but he keeps looking into my eyes while shifting back and forth again and again, and with time, he seems to become more comfortable with it and gain enough courage to make bigger movements. Maybe because he realizes that I won't laugh at him but just watch him with growing excitement. I stroke his wrists approvingly.

„Are you... imagining it's me you're feeling, hm? Taking you from behind?“

Alex lets out a quiet moan at that question, apparently not able to answer it. At least not with words. The way he moves his hips even more, making growling noises that almost sound like some kind of animal, all while giving me that... look that's full of pure lust and the burning desire to make our imaginations a reality – all that speaks for itself. I swallow slightly. In my head, I'm already inside him, make him shake and whimper while he's turning his head, giving me that same intense look over his shoulder and moving along with my rhythm, faster, harder, until he screams and begs me not to stop. My heart races.

„Alex...“ Hesitantly, I loosen the rope around his wrists and take a long, shaky breath. „I... want to feel you now.“

Sighing in relief when he gets rid of the rope, he grins at me with that knowing glimmer in his eyes.

„Feel me, you say? Oh, but what do you mean? What exactly do you want to feel?“

I smirk at him. It's so obvious how he's trying to cover his nervousness with that overly playful and confident behaviour.

„I guess you know very well what I mean,“ I say, it sounds really cocky. I'm doing the exact same thing as him. „But... actually,“ I add, realizing that I don't want to come across that way but rather a bit cheesy and genuine. „Actually – everything. Your hands, your lips. Your skin. I want to... feel everything of you.“ My own nervousness comes back with full force as I'm being so honest with him. I can't help it, at my core, I'm still the same stupid, awkward little nerd I've already been as a kid. „Would you... Do you want that, too?“

Alex listens to me, and for the first time, it seems like he really stops pretending and lets me see right into his soul. He doesn't try to hide anything anymore. I can see it all in his eyes now, so much emotion. Insecurity. Fear. Fear of something he doesn't know, but also the urge to just let it happen.

But maybe, I think to myself, maybe I'm also projecting my own emotions onto him.

„I want it, Phil, yes,“ he says, only a whisper. His hand that's still lying on my lap moves closer to my crotch, his eyes glancing down as if to make sure he doesn't do anything wrong before they look into mine again. The next moment, he carefully grabs me through my pants, rubs me with his palm, and he's doing it so sheepishly, with so much caution, it makes me crazy. Soothingly, I pet his shoulder, trying to show him somehow that it feels good and he doesn't need to worry. He bites his lip, stops for an instant and seems to think. Then he moves his hands under my T-shirt and up to my chest, drawing invisible lines around my pecs that are barely even existent, and in this moment, I feel kinda ugly, like I'm not enough or he deserves a better body to explore for his first time with a guy. But then I realize, his body's in fact not really that much better than mine, it's actually quite similar. On the other hand, he's a teenager and I'm an adult which means mine should be more defined. He has a very well defined body for a teenager though.

So, to put it in a nutshell: I'm having my cycle of self-doubt, and all for nothing because he doesn't even seem to care about anything of that; he's just touching me and has a cute and shy little smile on his face. I don't know why I always have to overthink everything.

Now Alex's hands reach around me and slide down my back, causing me to shudder. They slowly move deeper and come to rest on my rump, and when he starts to apply some pressure, I hear myself letting out a slight hissing sound.

„Oh dear...“ I laugh breathily. „You're giving me a massage?“

He smirks.

„I'm good at that. Sometimes I do that for me Em when she had a stressful day. To show her I'm a good kid.“

„I see...“ A good kid. Yeah. An unexpectedly loud groan comes out of my mouth as he continues his work on my back. „Oh, fuck– I'm not sure if this is pleasant or torturous!“

Alex giggles. He's obviously in his element, he can finally be brutal now.

„And that's just how it should feel for someone as tense as you!“

I sigh. He's probably right, I'm tense as hell. I can't really get over this certain circumstance that, well, his touch is... so nice. I mean, after everything I already know about him and the things he usually does. Not that I've seen him during any of those acts, damn, I don't even know him for 24 hours! But the things I've heard about those teenage gangs – which he's a part of – are still in the back of my mind. All the time. My mind might try to make me forget about it but after some minutes, it's always back in my head, the image of him being with his other gang-members. Violent. Selfish. Sadistic. Only satisfying their need for dominance. All that shit. But with me, he doesn't seem to be anything of that. I genuinely wonder why that is, what he sees in me to treat me so differently, or if he's just playing around, if this is all just a trick. It doesn't really seem like a trick, I tell myself.

And at this moment, Alex probably just distracts himself from his own fear anyway. By making me aware of how much my body needs physiotherapy. Some weird kind of grin forms on my face, I guess from the mixture of sensations and emotions I'm feeling. They challenge me quite a lot, it seems. But it's too late to back down now, way too late, and he knows that, too – after all, I've warned him. I've already warned him after we've kissed on our way to my apartment. I feel the skin in my face stretching before I realize it's due to my grin getting even wider, as if I've totally lost it, going insane now, and while my head is busy wondering when and where I've left my mind, my hand around Alex's hip moves further down, gives his pretty ass a teasing squeeze, and I could swear the little squeak he lets out in return makes me grin even a bit more.

„I hope I can get you to make more of those sweet little sounds,“ I taunt him, and I hope he knows I don't want to be mean. Maybe I'm a freak, an outsider, a fucking gay weirdo, damn, even a criminal, apparently. But at least, I'm not a mean person.

After a few more moments, I reach for the hilt of the plug and pull it carefully out of him, not breaking the eye contact. Alex's eyes widen and he casts a glance at the plug with a very cheeky smile, running one hand through his hair and letting out an exaggerated „Phew!“-sound.

„If the next thing going in there is even bigger, you will certainly hear more of those... sounds of mine,“ he promises me with a very flirtatious undertone, and I can't prevent my fantasies from going wild.

„Sounds great,“ I just say, putting the plug away, trying to contain my excitement as much as I still can in my current state. „My clothes are... getting really tight down there, by the way,“ I add, hoping it doesn't sound totally edgy. I just want him to get the hint. „Would you help me get rid of them...?“

Alex chuckles at that, a bit too much. I can tell so clearly how he's trying to cope with the things that are happening in his own (somehow cute) way. When he opens my pants and tugs at my waistband, I lift my hips to help him out a little, and the next moment, he has pulled everything down – even the shorts. I see his small grin and I practically feel his eyes on me, as if his gaze was actually physically touching me.

„Where are you looking, hm? Do you like what you see?“

„Well.“ Alex takes his time to stare at me completely shamelessly before he lifts his gaze with an even wider grin. „I wouldn't say I dislike what I'm seeing. Certainly not complaining!“

That comment makes me laugh.

„Not complaining, huh? Good to know! A complaint might've destroyed the mood a little...“ Amused, I stroke his face slightly. The alcohol feels really – how should I say? – present in my system right now but I guess I'm grateful for that. „Would you take the lube from the table maybe?“

„Oh, certainly!“ With a sweeping motion, he fetches the bottle, turns to me again and then just holds it up, looking a little confused, like he's not really sure what to do with it. „Shall I... apply some of it to you? Sir?“

„Yes, please.“ I like how he calls me 'Sir'. „We want to make it all as comfortable as possible for you, don't we?“

„I hope so, Sir...!“

Alex smiles sheepishly, and my heart beats faster in response to his shy and innocent behaviour. I don't believe it's all just an act. Curiously, he views the bottle in his hand, applies some lube to his fingers and views it all again as if to ponder whether he needs more or has already taken too much (he's probably never even had anything to do with lube before), then he decides that it's enough and closes his hand around me carefully before he starts jerking me off a little. A quiet hissing sound escapes me as the cool liquid comes into contact with my flesh. Jesus. If I don't hold myself back very, very strictly, I could probably come just from this after two minutes or something.

„Mhh... That's enough for now“, I manage to say after some of his strokes and motion towards my lap with a smirk, my hand shaking a bit while doing so. „Come here.“

After pulling his own pants over his ankles and getting rid of them completely, Alex follows my instruction without hesitation, lets me help him sit down on my lap in a comfortable position and makes a little noise when his lower body is pressed against mine. I think I've made one, too. But I'm not sure, I'm too focused on him to notice anything I'm doing myself.

„You... really want this?“ I ask him and just hope he won't change his mind. Please, don't, I think. I'd even say, I've never wanted anything as much as I want this right now. God, what's wrong with me.

Alex wipes a strand of hair out of his face, I can see how his hands are shaking, too. Then he nods.

„Yes.“ His expression has changed somehow. I don't think I've seen him this serious yet, and it seems like he wants to say more but struggles to find the right words. „You know,“ he then continues, „maybe this is... one of the most special moments in my life so far. And I've probably never wanted anything as much as this.“

He didn't really say that, did he? He didn't just say exactly what I've been thinking myself a second ago. Did he?

„Except maybe, let's say, a meeting with Ludwig Van in person, if I could bring him back from the dead,“ he adds, grinning. „I guess I'd want that even more.“

„Oh, of course,“ I laugh. A meeting with Ludwig Van. He really is something else. „That would be your dream, huh? I'm sorry I can't compare to Ludwig.“

„Don't worry, Phil. No one can.“ I'm pretty sure he really means that. Well, I guess he's not wrong. „But now,“ he says, his lips just an inch away from mine, „use the opportunity, eh? Who knows how long it will last, how long I'll be willing to let you do this with me?“ There's a kind of devilish glint in his eyes now behind all the affection and nervousness, and then he leans even closer and whispers: „For now, you can do what you want with me. My body is yours.“

Once again, he makes me shudder with his words, it's like he's practiced that – saying things that make a man go crazy. I wonder if he's fully aware of what he's saying. And if that's the way it always is for him with sex, something he needs. This powerplay. Usually the other way round but still – maybe he needs it like that, maybe it's the only thing he knows.

„Okay then...“ I take a moment to calm down. I don't want to be vulnerable in front of him, at least not now. I want to be confident. Alex gasps quietly as I lift him up and spread him open a little. „Take me into your hand and guide me, would you? That makes it easier for you.“

He looks very overwhelmed for a split second before he does as he's told, closes his hand around me once more and lines himself and me up in the right position. I reflexively hold my breath. Originally, I wanted to do it from behind while he would've still been tied up and on all fours. But now, in a matter of, what, minutes? In a matter of such a short timespan, my feelings have changed, and so have my desires. I want to look into his eyes now while I feel him, see his face while he's trembling in my arms. The mere thought of it makes my heart flutter.

„That's good,“ I mumble, barely even realizing that I've said something, trying to hold myself back from pressing against him too quickly. I grab his hips tighter, rest my head against his shoulder. „Okay... Okay.“ His hair tickles my cheek. I close my eyes for an instant, hear him breathe. „Relax now,“ I say, even though I realize how stupid it is to say something like that. As if telling someone to relax would actually make them less nervous. But Alex nods and I feel his breathing becoming slower, and before I can say or do anything else, his hand closes more around me and he presses down on me by himself, making both of us let out a muffled moan. Alright, that's it. That's too much to hold back for any longer and I hear myself moaning louder (it sounds almost desperate, a little pathetic) as I move my hips reflexively and push inside him. Not that much but it's enough to send me into a state of pure bliss. That feeling of becoming one with him, his hitching breath that's still grazing my skin slowly changing into a whimper while his hands reach around my shoulders, grabbing me tightly, clawing into my flesh – it might sound kind of cheesy but those little things, mixed with the psychedelic music in the background, feel like I've found my personal paradise. God, how submissive he is. Does he trust me? Would he do this if he didn't? I really don't know which feeling is stronger at the moment – the feeling of power I have over him or the urge to be gentle with him, to protect him. To just show him love.

Softly, I press him a bit more against my chest, place a kiss on his neck and caress his back. He's still clutching at me like a child that needs to be kept safe from the cruel world outside, and I wonder if I'm the right person to do that, to keep someone safe, someone who's so... troubled. Or maybe it's more fitting to say „someone who's trouble in human form“.

„Deeper,“ he mumbles against my shoulder, like someone talking in his sleep. „Come on, Phil,“ he says, his fingers gripping me tighter, „I can take it. Fuck me. Fuck the hell out of me.“

Suddenly, I feel sad. Sad and angry, angry at the world and all those people who are nothing but empty shells, and sad for the ones who still have life in themselves and try every day not to let it die. In fact, I'm incredibly sad about all that but I've lost my hope for a change a long time ago, and nobody ever sees how sad I am. My face remains neutral, I don't care, not my problem, I don't give a shit – while I actually feel like crying. I wish I could cry right now. Instead, there's just a sigh leaving my mouth and then goosebumps on my arms when I give him what he wants, push in deeper until I fill him up completely and hear the little scream he gives me in response. We just stay in this position for quite a while, both of us. I want to look into his eyes but his face is still buried in the crook of my neck.

„Are you okay...?“ My voice breaks, it's barely audible. „Tell me if you feel uncomfortable, please.“

Alex sighs deeply as well.

„I'm okay,“ is all he says at first. His grip around me softens bit by bit, he seems to finally relax more. „I want to keep going,“ he then tells me, and it kinda kills me when he adds a playful little „Sir“. Keep calm, Phil. Don't lose all your control.

„I'm glad,“ I say, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek. „I wouldn't really want to stop.“

He raises his head a bit and gives me such a shy but genuine smile that I think it's nearly impossible for me at this point to not lose my heart completely. And the next second, he leans in and places his lips on mine. It takes me a bit by surprise. It's only our second kiss so far, and last time, it was me who's taken the initiative. Now he's the one to make the first step, to show me he really wants this, and it feels so good, almost too good to be true. I close my eyes, concentrate on his warmth, on his tongue that's hesitantly brushing mine, the little noises of pleasure he makes, and I hold him even tighter out of a strange reflex – as if I could make sure he won't leave me by doing so. Alex sits still, his only movements are the ones with his mouth, and I don't move that much either, just rocking my hips against him very slightly in a slow rhythm that doesn't distract me too much from the kiss. But with time, he seems to get used to the feeling and starts to move with me, a bit awkward at first. With every minute though, he lets go more and more, moans into the kiss and then against my ear, causing me to shudder heavily and encouraging me to hold back even less.

„This feels so good,“ I mumble, kind of lost in... I don't even know what exactly. „Do you want to stay until tomorrow?“ I ask, not really thinking about any consequences anymore. It would be nice to have him lying beside me tonight, is all that's going through my head. Not being left alone again already, not knowing if I will ever see him again. Just stay with me for a little while longer, I think, it feels too good to end so soon. And it seems, Alex feels the same way.

„If you don't mind,“ he responds, looking at me with a hint of uncertainty and self-consciousness but also something that could be real affection. „I, uhm–“ He closes his eyes and lowers his voice. „I would... love that, actually.“

Smiling, I pull him closer to myself. I can't believe that he can be so dangerous and brutal with others. He's so cute right now, with me.

„I really like you,“ I say, holding him tight, maybe even a bit too tight, and I keep moving, harder, with more force. „I like you a lot...“

Alex moans, louder than before, but there's not only lust in his voice. He sounds vulnerable. Confused. Maybe I'm imagining things but it almost sounds like he's on the verge of crying, too. He doesn't say anything, he just looks at me for a moment, with an expression as if he doesn't understand anything anymore, and it breaks my heart a little. Instead of responding with words, he supports his arms on my shoulders and starts riding me so vigorously I'm worried he hurts himself. I don't stop him though, I can't, I'm paralyzed, and he just keeps fucking me and himself, groaning, scratching my back like a wild animal, and it drives me completely crazy, completely mad. Shit. My hands reach around his hips, sink into his flesh, squeeze his ass, and he lets out a sound of pure pleasure, gives me a little grin that sends a shiver down my spine, his face red and his hair messy, and I'm getting so lost in the moment, I'm not sure I even know who I am anymore. One of my hands moves to his front, closes around his cock, and he lets out a little whine when I jerk him off additionally to the other movements. Only some seconds later, he comes with a relieved cry, his body shaking and twitching violently, and it doesn't take long until I follow him over the edge, unsuccessfully trying to muffle my voice. When my mind slowly returns to reality, I'm leaning against his chest and his arms are around me, now him being the one holding me, comforting me. As if we both need comfort in our own way.

Chapter Text

It's silent for what seems like an eternity, just the sound of two people breathing filling the room. Alex's embrace feels so warm, warm and soothing. It may sound overly dramatic but it kinda feels like we're two lost souls, both in our own way, who spend time together to show each other some understanding. I'm probably a stupid, naive idiot for thinking something like that.

Out of nowhere, there's a noise pulling me out of that weird, deep rabbit hole that is my brain – a quiet „Meow“ –, and I turn my head with an awkward smile.

„May I introduce you to my cat, Caleb?“ Alex stares at him with a look in his eyes like he's never seen a cat before. „Sorry I didn't mention him before.“

„No, it's– I didn't expect that is all!“ He giggles, observing Caleb with great curiosity as it seems. „Hey, hey, my droogie,“ he says, smirking, and turns to look at me again. „I hope he doesn't mind seeing us in this situation.“

That last comment makes me laugh.

„Oh, don't worry. He's an adult cat, I think he can handle that.“

Another giggle, then Alex continues to watch Caleb who watches him as well with big eyes, and after hesitating for a while, Caleb comes closer, stops in front of the couch and looks up to Alex with another small, curious „Meow“. Alex has an amused look on his face as he holds his hand out to Caleb, still sitting on my lap.

„What a good boy,“ he grins, letting him sniff at his hand. Good to know it's not only me he treats in such a respectful and friendly way but also my cat. After all, I had no clue how he is with animals. But maybe he even likes them more than people. Maybe he has a soft spot for animals and generally treats them like saints, just as much as he treats humans like shit. Absurdly, that would actually make him seem more human to me. It's kinda relatable. Animals really are saints compared to most human beings.

„A very good boy, indeed,“ I remark, watching the two of them a bit absently, grinning slightly as well. „Just like you, right?“

I can see that those words probably have some kind of effect on him.

„Oh yes,“ he purrs (as if he's the cat here), leaning into me like he wants me to pet him. „Of course I am. Just for you, Sir. Do I get a treat...?“

„A treat, huh?“ I shouldn't enjoy that so much. Being asked for a treat by a highly disturbed teenager, I mean. „I could give you a cookie, if you want,“ I reply to him regardless, and his face lights up in such an adorable way, I really couldn't deny him anything right now. „Alright then.“ I pet his head softly, looking from him over to Caleb. „You both get a treat. But first, you have to get off of my lap, I fear.“

„Aww... What a pity!“

Alex makes a pout but follows my instruction shortly afterwards, carefully lifting his hips and getting off of me with a quiet hiss. I need a moment to collect myself and get on my feet as well, smiling at him playfully.

„Do you like my lap? I'm sure we'll have enough time to sit like that again in the future.“ I'm still talking like this, goddamn - as if it was a totally normal thing for me to flirt with people and do all these things I'm doing this evening. Leaning forward to the table, I grab some cleenex and wipe myself briefly. My eyes dart to Alex's thighs. The sight of my cum running down there makes my cheeks flush. „Let me clean you, too.“

With a soft 'Oh'-sound, he leans into me as I wipe him off, and there's a grateful look in his eyes.

„Thank you, Sir. That feels nice...“

„Do you... enjoy calling me 'Sir'?“ I ask him and finish cleaning him up. Alex makes another small sound of pleasure before a cheeky smile appears on his face once more.

„I like how it sounds,“ he explains with a shrug. „It makes you seem like... a person of authority, y'know? That's hot.“

„Hmm.“ To be honest, that makes me feel incredibly flattered. A person of authority. Me. „I get it. You like a little power imabalance, hm? Shall I wear a police uniform next time?“

„Oh no!“ Alex laughs out loud. „No millicents during fun-time, please! More like... teacher and student, maybe? You've mentioned that example yourself earlier. Can't you imagine yourself as a good-looking, young teacher giving his equally good-looking and very bad-bad-baddiwad student a special lesson...?“

I try to imagine just that. Holy shit.

„You should write scripts for porn-videos.“

I snicker, not sure if I want to get that thought out of my head or keep it there.

After a moment, I get up from the couch as well, put my clothes back on and give Alex, who's doing the same, some soft pats on his shoulder. „Okay. Then come to the kitchen with me, student...!“ I say, kinda sarcastically, making a few steps and then looking over my shoulder to Caleb. “You, too! You both deserve a treat.“ Caleb meows happily and follows me quickly. Alex follows as well, a big grin on his face, and watches me while I open one of the cupboards in the kitchen and grab two small boxes – one with cat treats and one with cookies. „Wait a second, Caleb comes first,“ I say, smirking at Alex's jokingly disappointed face, bend down to the floor and hold one hand out to Caleb who immediately inspects it and starts eating out of my palm as soon as he finds what I have for him. Alex lets out a small „Aw“, glances up to me with the most sweet and innocent look he can probably put on and asks me with an equally innocent voice if he can have his treat now, too. Not forgetting to call me 'sir' at the end. I pretend to think about it and sigh.

„I think you've earned it, yes.“

Alex smiles – a genuine, happy smile, as it seems – and I feel my heart melting a bit more at the cheerful „Yay!“ he gives me before he leans close to my hand and opens his mouth, taking a bite of the cookie. I pat his shoulder, as if he really was my pet, and the thought of that makes me feel kinda weird about this situation. But this dynamic has been weird from the start, there's no way it couldn't be weird, so it doesn't really make a difference, right? And he looks like he really enjoys the way I treat him.

„You're welcome,“ I say, returning his smile, watching as he takes another bite of the cookie out of my hand. „My little Alex...“

Vaguely, I hear the silent noise he makes, some kind of surprised gasp, and his face looks a little flushed. I've only called him that because he's behaving so cat-like, not considering the possibility it could make him feel embarassed. I mean, I'd understand it. I really would.

But he doesn't seem like he has a problem with it, more the opposite. He leans into my touch, still chewing on his cookie, and after he's swallowed, he rests his whole body against me. No, it... it really doesn't look like he's uncomfortable. And for some reason – I don't know what's wrong with me –, I immediately destroy the peaceful atmosphere with my next, very insensitive, question.

„What would your 'droogs' say if they saw you like this? With me?“

If only I had asked him that out of concern or something at least, in a careful way. But no. I asked that question with a teasing undertone and I already regret it as I see a hint of bitterness in Alex's eyes. I'm an asshole.

„They would call me all sorts of things for sure. A sissy, a faggot. A traitor,“ he says with a now cynical smile, then he looks away. „I don't think they would respect me anymore.“

„Hmm.“ I thought so. And even though I did, hearing it from him and seeing that it actually upsets him... hurts. „Why do you hang around with those people? If they don't respect you for who you are, they're not your friends. Do you really view them as that? Your friends?“

Alex still gazes into space but I notice how his body tenses up. He really seems to struggle.

„I don't know, honestly. Yes, maybe I view them as that,“ he replies after a short while. „We may not have a strong bond or trust in each other but– You know? We always do our things together. It feels good to be respected by them.“

There's more going through his head, I can see that. It would be empty without them. I don't want to lose all that. What should I do without them? I don't have anyone else. But he doesn't say any more. A bit hesitantly, I pull him closer to myself, hugging him and making him look at me again.

„So called 'friends' who would make fun of you and lose their respect for you just because of who or what you like... They're worth nothing. A friend wouldn't try to prevent you from being happy.“ I try to find the right words and stay silent for a moment. „Look, I... don't know how good I am for you. Maybe I'm not good for you at all. But at least I respect you. Not because you're strong and dangerous or whatever but because... I don't know, I don't even think there has to be a particular reason to be respectful. You've treated me nicely, and you've been open and honest with me about your feelings and everything. I think that's... brave. Especially for someone your age.“ I try to smile, it probably looks completely awkward and I feel my heart beating a little faster. Goddamn. „What I want to say is just... You're not alone. You have me now. And maybe I'm not really the healthiest company but you can trust me. I would never make fun of you and... you can always talk to me if you want. About everything.“

Alex looks surprised, as if he hadn't expected me – or anyone at all – to say something like that to him. He nods softly and presses himself against my chest.

„Thank you, Phil,“ he says, using my actual name again after a while, and that makes me feel so close to him somehow. Painfully close.

„I will take care of you,“ I say absently, stroking his hair. I really mean it. It even frustrates me how vulnerable I feel right now because I want to be strong for him, want to give him support. Guide him away from those people who would call him a faggot, apparently. But I don't know if I can do that or if I even should. „It's... insane, isn't it?“ An overwhelmed sounding laugh comes out of my mouth, I almost don't recognize my own voice, even though that helplessness isn't unfamiliar to me at all. „Both of us must be totally insane. But who cares... right?“

Alex gives me a little smile, apparently feeling just as awkward as I do. But he also looks like he feels comfortable with all this. With me. And that makes me... happy.

I feel his warm breath when I lean forward and give him a short, soft kiss.

„Shall we go to bed now?“ I ask a bit hesitantly. Alex nods which doesn't surprise me, he looks like he could use a little bit of sleep.

„Yeah,“ he says, his hand sliding down my forearm before his fingers interlock with mine. Almost too cute.

„Uhmm...“ There is still something that worries me (well, more than one thing actually), and I try finding the right words to express my concern without annoying him too much. „You're really sure nobody will miss you if you stay here till tomorrow? Not even your parents?“

„No, like I said – not even my parents,“ Alex responds without thinking. He seems certain about that. He smirks. „No one will look for me for a while, don't worry. You can have me all for yourself.“

He doesn't even realize how sad that is, I think to myself. Because that's everything he knows – being alone. Even if he has his 'droogs' around, the only thing they can give to him is a feeling of power, of being someone special, being a big deal, being a leader who has everything under control, with his own little retinue of horror. But what's really important, what he really needs... Nobody gives that to him.

„Alright,“ I reply to him after a while, trying to distract myself from those depressing thoughts. Briefly, I turn around and look in the direction of the bedroom-door. „Then... let's take a break from everything, shall we? I'll go to the bathroom first but you can already lay down and wait for me, if you want. And you can use my bathroom, too, of course. It's over there.“ I point to another door, hoping I don't talk too much. According to the amused grin Alex gives me, I guess I do.

„I'm sure I'll find everything. I'm a big boy, you know?“ He winks at me. „But thanks, Phil. I appreciate your hospitality!“

With that, he heads off to the bedroom, and I feel myself smiling at his cockiness.

„Make yourself comfortable,“ I tell him. And as soon as I'm in the bathroom, the door closed behind myself, I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to process everything that has happened during the last few hours.

So far so good... I've met this guy who's incredibly charming with an extraordinary style and personality. Also really handsome. Then I've found out that this guy is the leader of a gang who commits brutal crimes on a daily basis – and I still didn't walk away. Then I went to a bar with that guy and found out that he's only 15. Fifteen, goddammit. And regardless of all that, I've taken him to my apartment, had sex with him and have seen him turn into a submissive little pet, that same guy who's a gang leader and all that stuff. And now I've found out that this guy might in fact just be a lonely boy who's probably never gotten enough attention and love (even though that still doesn't justify the things he likes to do so much). Wow. Just wow.

„What am I doing here,“ I mumble quietly to myself, feeling my heart hammering against my chest. I shouldn't be doing this. But I already know that I won't be able to stop. I have lost my heart to that boy.

I'm so doomed.

After a while of just standing there and leaning against the door, I take another deep breath and shake my head slightly, as if I could shake off all those thoughts and worries by doing that. I can't change the things I've done anyway – I've slept with Alex, it's a fact. And now, he's lying here in my bed, in my apartment. And I don't even regret it, no matter how wrong that might seem to everyone else. Everyone else doesn't need to know about this. It's something between Alex and me, and it feels good. So good...

Sighing, I wash my face with cold water and get ready for sleeping. I take off my clothes, put them into the laundry bin and then return to Alex, into the bedroom, trying to put on a less concerned and zombie-ish face.

„Hey... here I am,“ I say, letting out a nervous chuckle when I see Alex lying naked on the bed, looking at me as if he's just waited for me to return. „You, uhm, don't have to be naked, by the way. You can grab some clothes of–“

„Oh, I feel quite comfortable this way, thank you, Phil,“ he interrupts me, looking me up and down with a mischievous smirk. „We're wearing partner-look, don't we?“

„Looks like it, yeah.“ I copy his mischievous expression and lay down in bed next to him, not putting the blanket over us both yet – I want to admire that sight before my eyes for a moment longer. “You're... really handsome.“

It feels a bit embarassing to be completely naked myself right in front of him, even after we've already had sex. This situation is kinda different – just lying next to each other without any clothes on feels... even more intimate, in some way. It's a strange feeling, but I could get used to it. Alex's grin is now almost comical, his face saying something like „Haven't heard that for the first time“. But what he actually says is:

„I can certainly return that compliment.“

I shouldn't be surprised about that. I mean, if he thought I was ugly he basically wouldn't be here now. And still – I'm just not used to being complimented like that.

„Uh.“ I cough. Totally no sign of insecurity. „When do you want to get up tomorrow?“

„Whenever you want. Just not too early,“ Alex simply says, reminding me of my own fucked up sleeping rhythm and how I hate getting up early.

„Don't worry about that, we're on the same page.“ I look at him, for the last time today, give him a smile that could be that of a teenage girl trying to get her crush's attention, and then turn off the light. „Good night then,“ I murmur, stare into the darkness where I can vaguely make out his silhouette and, after hesitating for a while, put an arm around him. To hold him in his sleep, as I promised. Alex lets out a quiet sound and I can feel how he tenses up in my embrace – a quite normal bodily reaction when you experience something you're not used to.

„G'night,“ he says, almost inaudible, and his body starts to relax, slowly but surely. And at some point while I'm already half-asleep myself, I'm suddenly very aware of his presence, that calm, rhythmic breathing against my skin, his weight pressed against me and his hand on my shoulder, clutching at me now and then in his sleep. It feels... nice.

With that thought, I drift off completely.

Chapter Text

It took me a while until I woke up the next morning. I've been dreaming, something beautiful, even though it's all vague and I'm not even sure what it's been about. Most nights, my brothers, I explore my own special world that only I can enter in my dreams; a world where everything belongs to me, everything and everybody, and no one can tell me what to do. But this time, something's... different. Like there's been one thing, one person, that wasn't my possession – but the other way around. And it hasn't felt terrifying as it should have. It has felt... It is feeling so good, like I had finally found something I've been searching for, but at the same time, it's frightening, ohh, so frightening...

My glazzies slowly open, the light from outside the window reaching my face, and I stare at the ceiling. Not the ceiling I'm used to, I realize. And then I take a glance to the side and let out a loud gasp, almost comical.

Phil smiles at me and it immediately sends a fluffy, warm feeling through my plott, even though I'm as confused as a person can possibly be.

„Good morning,“ the guy next to me in bed mumbles softly, sitting up slowly. I can't really put my thoughts into order, o brothers, it's like I woke up in yet another dream and it takes me a few moments to remember exactly what happened the day before. But it all comes back bit by bit, like a puzzle completing itself.

The bar; we've been drinking together. We've kissed. I went home with this malchick – who can't even be called a 'malchick' anymore because he's, like, one and a half decades older than myself – and... dear Bog. It really went that far, didn't it? We really went for a good round of the ol' in-out-in-out with each other. Which isn't anything new for me, of course – but this time, I've been on the receiving end, and that sure as hell is something new.

There's a little bit of regret inside of me as I remember all that, as I see myself in my mind getting banged by a stranger, by an older veck, and it almost makes me panic to think that I let someone do that to me. But there's also something else. This deep– What is it even? Connection? This... weird feeling I haven't felt with anyone else before and that makes this fluffy-puffy warmth spread inside me like crazy. And that feeling outweighs the regret.

I smile, hesitantly scooting closer to Phil, trying to process everything that's happened and what that actually even means.

„Good morning,“ I mumble, trying to ignore that pungent mix of nausea and complete and utter excitement as I cautiously lean against Phil's shoulder. I feel kind of small, I can't even say anything smart or witty right now. But at least I don't seem to be the only one here who feels confused and awkward to no end. No, I can tell that Phil is nervous as well; his twitchy body and the look in his eyes reveal that. And how comforting that is to know.

„Did you sleep well?“ Phil asks, his tone of voice matching the awkwardness in his smile. Makes me smirk, a bit cheekily maybe.

„Very well, Sir,“ I respond, moving one of my rookers to Phil's upper body, exploring his skin, the dark-brown hair on his chest. His heartbeat. Something about all that comforts me even more. It feels nice, it really does.

Phil's pulse seems to quicken, it goes very fast underneath my rook. And then Phil's own rook moves up to mine, strokes it and lets it rest there.

„You know,“ he says, „I've felt your heartbeat, too, while you've been asleep, just some moments ago. Just like you're doing now.“

„You have...?“ The thought of that gives me goosebumps for some reason. „How did that feel? My heartbeat, I mean.“

„It felt... very calm. As if you were very much at peace.“ Phil smiles, barely even visible, and puts one arm around my waist, looking into my glazzies before turning his head away shyly. Kinda cute. „It... It was nice to sleep next to you,“ he adds quietly, as if it scares him to admit that. I have to chuckle, this is something familiar to me at least – scaring and intimidating people. Although this doesn't seem quite comparable to the situations that usually have this effect.

„I enjoyed it as well. Your nagoy body wrapped around mine under the blanket... very nice.“

With a grin, I pull said blanket off and let the sun shine in onto him and me, as if to emphasize what I just said about bodies and being absolutely nagoy. Or naked, to use a word that's more common around adults. I feel Phil's gaze wander down my torso, shortly dwelling between my legs (oh, does it feel good, this wonderful attention) before coming back to my litso, his smile widening in a kinda cheeky way now, too.

„And,“ Phil begins, clicking his tongue, „did you dream anything nice?“

That question triggers something, and my own tension comes back for a moment. Yeah, that dream... Whatever it really was about, I can't remember exactly. But what I do remember is the feeling it caused me. A feeling of being... safe. Loved and appreciated. Belonging somewhere, to someone. But is that really what this is? Can that be? Maybe Phil is just enjoying my company for a short time after all before he sends me away again, goodbye, it was a great fuck, now go home, please. He can't really be serious about all that, can he? Am I even serious about it?

„I had an amazing dream, yes,“ I finally reply as I get off the bed, giving Phil a cocky smile, trying not to think too much. Phil's eyes are still on me, scanning my whole plott or body in all its glory, and he supports himself on one elbow.

„Oh yes?“ he asks, grinning. „What was your dream about, if I may ask?“

„Well, you know,“ I say, now smirking and turning a little into Phil's direction, „some things can't be put into words so well. But just be assured – I enjoyed that dream a whole lot.“

„I see.“

Phil just smiles, kind of... devouring me with his eyes, as he gets off the bed as well, just standing there without saying anything more. There's a pleasant shudder creeping down my spine, in a way I usually experience when I hear screams of pain, my brothers.

„What do you think... Sir?“

Phil chuckles.

„What I think right now? Well...“ He gives me a somewhat flirty and playful smirk while approaching me slowly, like a tiger approaching its prey. Real sexy, real horrorshow. „I think that you have a beautiful backside.“ I shudder even heavier when I feel Phil's hand touching my pletcho and then sliding down my arm. „Honestly – I can't stop looking at you. It's almost embarassing...“

„My backside?“ I say, a malenky bit flustered. Oh boy. „I thought my front was prettier.“

And that seems to amuse Phil even more, makes him laugh while his hand's wandering across my whole body.

„Your front is very, very pretty, of course. You have such a handsome face,“ he says dreamily. „But your whole shape is very nice to look at – from the front and from the backside.“ No shame in his voice at this moment. He says all that as if he's viewing a precious sculpture, turning it in his hands, fantasizing about calling it his own. Seems he forgot about his earlier awkwardness. I have no clue what's going on in his gulliver, honestly, but I don't even need to know. „Now,“ he adds, a lot quieter, „turn around.“

With a little giggle, I do as I'm told so that Phil can admire my oh so pretty backside. I feel his breath in my neck as he approaches me even more, then I feel his arms wrapping around me from behind. And it doesn't take more than that to jolt an electrifying feeling down through my plott, all the way south. A soft gasp escapes me when I also feel Phil leaning his face over my shoulders to kiss every inch of bare skin he can reach from there. The feeling is... indescribable. I never thought I could enjoy something so much that's so far from everything ultraviolent, not even the slightest bit rough. And now I'm here and my heart almost beats out of my chest when Phil's lower body presses against mine and I can feel very clearly how much he, well, desires me yet again. Or, more precisely, I feel his very much sharpened Masamune brush my young, luscious sharries, and it makes me completely bezoomny inside.

„This feels so good,“ Phil mumbles against my neck (I vaguely remember that he's said that yesterday as well, several times), his arms tightly around me. It does, oh yes... So different from a devotchka's body, so hard and firm and, goddamn, so hot. „How about,“ he continues quietly, „we continue this while having a shower? And after that, we'll have breakfast – if you aren't too hungry right now and can wait for a little while longer?“

His fingers rub against my stomach while he says that, so softly and full of that strange affection (wherever it may come from), and that is enough to make my legs nearly go weak. He really manages to make me feel more sensations than I'm even aware of existing – minute after minute. I feel the urge to say something naughty but the thing is, I'm barely able to even speak properly at this point. So all I do is nod and say: „Sounds great“. Nothing more. Phil lets go of me slowly.

„Alright,“ he says with a big smile, walking towards the bathroom-door. „Then come with me.“

I do, of course, and once he's in the shower and has turned on the water, he gives me a real suggestive glance from inside there, almost making me feel like I'm in the cine, viddying one of those films with those infamous shower-scenes. The rushing sound of the water and the thought of being in there with him, in his embrace, his wet, naked skin against mine and Bog knows what else he's going to do with me... Oh, the thought of all that makes me feel all funny.

Phil doesn't stop eyeing me as I follow him into the shower. The next moment, his rook is on my chest, fondling it so lovingly, and another moment later, his hands are around my wrists, pinning me against the wall. Nobody has ever pinned me to a wall like that, brothers, at least not apart from a gang-fight or something like that. Surely not in an intimate, lovey-dovey context. It makes me forget to breathe for an instant.

„Just what do you think you're doing to me... Sir?“ I ask after catching my breath, it's the first thing that comes to my mind. I give him a smirk but on the inside, I'm a mess.

„Mhh,“ Phil says, looking me up and down, apparently amused. I bet he enjoys being in control more than he would admit. „Nothing you don't want, I hope?“ Now he leans closer to me, his lips almost touching my neck (it's so beautiful...), and he lowers his voice. „Do you want to be my good boy once more?“

I almost choke on my own spit at that, and it makes me feel like a total dork.

„Your good boy, Sir?“ He practically holds me in his hands. And I don't even want to resist it. „I think I'd like that, yes,“ I hear myself respond to him, my voice hoarse and faint, making me sound like the pathetic little victim I am in this situation – but I'm not really pathetic, as a matter of fact, for I'm just playing around, playing the role of a weak, helpless captive in the predator's claws. I could put an end to this at any time, if I wanted to. But I'm just enjoying this too much, just as he's enjoying it to drive me into a corner, to see the hint of fear in my eyes, to feel this mutual dependence to satisfy each other's lust.

Oh yes, he loves this, I can tell. There is no greater human desire than to explore the dark and forbidden, is there? And I guess there are several things about all this that would be considered 'forbidden'.

„You're suddenly so shy, aren't you?“ Phil asks me, smirking at my reaction, before he lets go of my wrists to pet my head gently and then adds, a little quieter: „I want you to turn around once more, Alex. With your back to me.“

The way he says this causes me to moan slightly; it really is quite embarassing how good it feels to be treated like that – but I can't bring myself to care much more about that anymore. At this point, I'd do almost everything for him. So, of course, I do as he said, turn around with my hands pressed against the wall and feel my body respond to the thought of him being right behind me in various ways.

„What... do you want me to do, Sir?“

My voice is a bit shaky, I can't deny that I'm gettin' nervous. A position like this would typically feel humiliating. But with Phil, I somehow can't help but feel so comfortable and so excited to see where this will go.

„Oh, nothing,“ Phil says, I can hear his smirk and his attentive eyes on me in his voice. „Just stay like this,“ he tells me, and his voice turns into a dreamy whisper when I stay like that like he said. „Very good.“

Suddenly, his body leans against mine, his mouth touches my neck, his tongue glides slightly over my skin. Oh Lord, oh Bog. He's so turned on, I can feel it – clearly. I bet he can't wait to screw me and needs all of his willpower to not immediately shove his pillar of joy into my 'beautiful backside'. I grin at that thought. Wouldn't it be exciting if he did just that? Giving up all self-control, just taking what's his. I shiver slightly, my mind starts imagining that scenario very vividly, like a scene from a horrorshow porn-movie. His hands grabbing me tightly to hold me in place so he can take advantage of me. Or maybe one of his hands covering my mouth so no one would hear my screams while he forces himself inside me and uses my poor, defenseless body for his own satisfaction. I moan involuntarily, my hands clawing at the wall; my whole being is on fire right now. The thought of that is frightening but so hot.

Please, give in, I beg him in my mind, just do it, just fuck me, God, hurt me as much as you want!

„Your little moans sound so nice,“ I hear him mumble against my shoulder, pulling me out of my sweet, sweet daydreams and bringing me back to reality. And in reality, it's... quite different. He's not ruthless, he doesn't hurt me. He's so awfully gentle while he slides his hand up and down my body, caressing my thigh and breathing against my neck. In a way, that feels much more cruel than all the things he could do to me in my fantasies. I couldn't even describe it, it's a feeling I've never known before, and in it's own sick way, it does hurt. More than I'd like to admit.

The next moment, Phil's hand on my thigh moves higher, between my legs, and I gasp in surprise when it starts stroking my balls. He seems to notice how much I enjoy that, and quickly, he goes further, squeezes and plays with my yarbles, and I almost lose my mind. Simultaneously, I feel him kiss my neck (so awfully soft), and then, another moment later, it seems like he's getting down to his knees behind me. My whole plott shivers in anticipation, this is too good to be true in some way. His lips are on my bare back, his hands around my waist. Then he places kisses on my back, each a bit deeper than the last one, until his mouth is right above my ass. My brain seems to be forgetting how to form any coherent thoughts, even more so when I suddenly feel his tongue rimming me. That bloody skilled tongue.

„Damn...“

I swallow hard, try to stay as still as possible but it's a bit difficult because I'm shaking like crazy. I would've said this sensation is out of this world but what he does next really outshines everything else I've ever felt in my life. His hands move further down and part my cheeks, probably for better access, and after that, I feel his tongue slip inside there. For a few seconds, I'm so overwhelmed, you could almost say it's a state of shock. No, this can't be, there's no way something can feel so good... Something like this, I mean. Where I do nothing and just... let it happen. I've imagined all sorts of things, I can tell you, especially when I was lying nagoy in my bed, listening to my good ol' Ludwig Van, with all the great, majestic instruments, the wonderful melodies and images I could viddy in my gulliver that always make my own majestic instrument sharp sharp sharp and ready for a bit of ultraviolence. Oh, there are so many fun things you can do, I am quite a creative malchik! But every time I've thought about those things, a devotchka was involved, or more than one, and every time, it was me who made her scream, my brothers. Alright, recently, well, maybe I've also thought about doing things with another malchik, at least now and then.

But never have I thought about something like this.

Phil pulls his tongue out of me and continues to rim me some more, just on the surface, and it's teasing me so much, I can barely contain myself. He seems to see that somehow or hear it in my voice, and I, in turn, can hear the provocative grin when he speaks to me.

„Does that feel good?“ he asks, a little out of breath. Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes, it does.

I can't manage to tell him that though. My heart is beating so fast, it's on the verge of exploding, my nogas grow weaker with every second, and the only way my confused and horny self can answer his question is by giving him a slight nod and a needy moan. I see him smile up to me when I look over my pletcho (a smile almost as devilish as mine when I spot a nice devotchka to have the old in-out-in-out with – and I know the way I smile in that situation, I've seen myself in the mirror while I've been doing the in-out in my gulliver), and when he spreads me open even wider, an embarassing sound leaves my innocent mouth.

„Then just enjoy it,“ he says before his damned tongue slips inside once more, deeper than before, moving inside there like a parasite, an aggressive insect or something like that. I feel his thumbs stroking me simultaneously, and, Bog, this feeling really is something else! That bastard makes me lose control over myself completely, it's not even funny anymore; I swear, my mind is going blank, I can almost see those naked little angels flying around and blowing their trumpets.

I don't think I can properly describe the incoherent sounds coming out of my mouth, I've lost my ability to speak, it seems. I never thought that would happen to me, a poet and master of melodious slovos – usually. Now, my brain is reduced to a solely hormone-driven puddle of mush.

„You seem to like this a lot,“ Phil says, immediately making me feel disappointed when he stops moving his godlike tongue so he can use it to talk. At least one of us hasn't forgotten how to do that. „Do you think... you can come just like this? Just from my tongue inside you?“

My mind is empty for some seconds, it takes me way too long to even understand what he's asking me. When it occurs to me what he wants to know, I nod slightly.

„Yes. I think I can.“

He smirks again, it makes my heart skip a bit to see him like this, so... mischievous. And when he continues, very passionately and shamelessly, I can't hold back anymore. My body's shaking, my legs quivering, and it's like an invisible force makes me move my hips along with his rhythm, desperately trying to press against his mouth even more. His hands squeeze me tightly and I feel his hot breath. I also hear his (just as hot) little moans while he keeps pleasuring me, and it makes me so bezoomny, I can't help but whimper quietly, like a little doggy waiting for his mistress to come home. It's getting more intense with every second, nearly too much to bear. And finally, with an embarassingly loud whine, I indeed reach my climax. A very, very incredible one.

Phil takes a deep breath behind me, and so do I. The warm water is still flowing down on both of us, it is such a relaxing and soothing feeling, and as if to relax me even more, I can now feel his arms closing around my waist. Softly, affectionately. It's... beautiful.

Still quivering, I turn around a little to face him, still with my back to his chest though, and after just staring at his face like a deer would stare at a car, my eyes shut by themselves and my body falls against his, leaning on his shoulder, his arms holding me.

„Phil, I...“ I swallow hard, my mind is still in a blur. „I... I love you.“

Wait, did I really just say that?! I didn't want to say that, oh, damn. But his embrace feels so good, so warm. I feel so, I don't know, safe?. No one has ever made me feel that way, and I don't want it to end...

Phil inhales sharply and looks at me as if he's trying to process what he just heard. I instantly regret it so much, I shouldn't have said that. But on the other hand – it's just what I'm feeling right now, nothing more and nothing less.

„Oh God,“ Phil says with a quiet and overwhelmed sounding chuckle before he looks to the ground and then back at my face. „Don't– You... You don't know me well enough to say something like that...“

Alright, alright. Now I really have to think for a bit before I govoreet some really gloopy bullshit in response.

„I know I... may not know you too well. But...“ Oh, why does my whole plott have to shake like I was walking nagoy through a winter scenery in Moscow? Isn't it enough when I shake that much while he screws me? „I can see when someone is, uh... truly genuine. At least I think I can,“ I finally manage to say. It probably sounds totally cheesy. „Most people aren't, Phil. At least most people I know. You're different. You truly... care for me. You listen to me. I feel like I should... thank you for that, I guess.“

What a strange feeling it is to say something like that. It doesn't feel wrong though. It's like I can finally, for the first time, be nothing but myself around another person. Not only that darker side of mine that I've kinda tried to suppress when I was a younger, much malenkier version of myself. Now, everything's turned upside down, it seems. Now it's my not-so-dark-side I don't show to everyone – but to him, I show it. It feels alright, it really does.

Phil gazes back at me, a look in his eyes that makes him seem kind of helpless. It's cute in some way.

„Oh my God,“ he whispers again and I can see his hands tremble which makes me feel a bit less embarassed about my own shaking body. And then, the next second, his arms are closed around my shoulders, my face pressed to his chest, one of his hands in my wet hair. „I hope... I can keep making you feel so good.“

His silent voice near my ear makes me shiver even more. His naked, wet skin feels somehow soothing against my face. I wish I could feel him like that forever, him and the warm water.

„I'm sure of it,“ I whisper in response, closing my eyes. Yeah, in some way, I really am. I just know that this man will keep making me feel this way, and that's not only a good thing, my brothers. If all this continues, what's going to become of me, eh? Yesterday, I wasn't so aware of all that when I started dating him. I just wanted to have a little fun, that's all. Try something new. And because I've been on my own, without the gruppa – which is very nice now and then, I can tell you – I've had the perfect opportunity to, well, experiment a little. And because I haven't had my usual Moloko with knifes but a variation this time that made me feel quite different from usual. More relaxed, I'd say. More open to aaaall the possibilities the world has to offer.

Now, I'm obviously still feeling open-minded enough to embark on whatever-this-actually-is with this veck who does whatever-it-actually-is to me. But I'm losing my cool, and that's not good.

I hear Phil breathing in and out shakily, almost as if he's about to cry any moment. For a long time that makes me feel so very weird, it is silent, before he starts to speak again with a quiet and vulnerable sounding voice.

„I don't use the word 'love' quickly. Just so you know,“ he says. At least he's smiling, that helps in some way. „But when I do – I really mean it. And I feel like... I might say it to you one day.“

It really is insane and I must've lost my mind. But I adore him.

„I mean it, too. I'm serious,“ I say, hoping that he believes me because it's nothing but the truth. I don't see any point in lying here. Phil bites his lip slightly, and that alone is enough for me to crave more of him again.

„You're so sweet,“ he mumbles, barely audible, his hands holding me even tighter than before. And as I'm so close to him, in his heavenly embrace, I am suddenly very aware of his erection pressing against my body. He seems to be just as aware of that. „I...“ He tries to speak but apparently, he fails. He swallows slightly, then I hear a hoarse little laughter. „I'm still so aroused,“ he manages to tell me. I grin at him. He knows that I've already noticed that. „Would you... touch me, Alex?“ he finally asks, leaning his head against my shoulder.

„What if I don't?“ I ask back with a smirk, and it's so obvious how much he hopes that I'm only teasing him. And of course I'm only teasing.

„That wouldn't be fair, would it? To deny me my release after what I've just done for you,“ he responds, smirking as well. Then he seems to think about something and his smirk fades away. „Of course I'm not serious... you know that, right? I don't expect anything! I... I'll do it myself if it makes you uncomfortable.“

„You really are scared of being a creep, aren't you?“ I laugh to myself. „I know that, Phil, don't worry. And how could I be so cruel to leave you hanging in such a, well, spicy situation, hm?“ Grinning, I place my hand on his thigh. „Or maybe 'hanging' isn't really the right word now...?“

Phil makes a sound that resembles a high-pitched kind of giggle. To be honest, it's one of the cutest sounds I've ever slooshed. Pensively, I run my hand across his skin, my mind traveling back to yesterday, when we were even closer to each other than we are now. A feeling of shame washes over me, so suddenly that it almost takes my breath away.

I've let him do that to me. I've even let him tie my wrists together, I would've probably let him do anything, and it would've been fine! But is it really fine? Do I truly want all this to continue, or am I just a little brainwashed by my gloopy hormones?

„Alex?“ Phil sounds concerned now. „Are you okay?“

„Yes. Sure,“ I say but I don't really know. „Is it... bad that I like all this?“

His expression shifts from 'concerned' to 'surprised' and then to 'contemplative' in a matter of seconds.

„Do you think it's bad?“ he then asks. Like a therapist, always returning the questions.

„I think... I don't know yet. It's all new to me, you know?“

I want to say more, explain myself better, but all the right slovos are missing at this moment. Phil seems to understand me without any further explanation though, and I have honestly no clue how that's possible.

„It's alright,“ he just says, stroking my hair in the most loving way I can imagine. „Take your time to think about it. But most important is that you feel good. Okay? You.“ He seems to think about what to say again. Then he asks: „Do you think about others? What other people would think about you if they knew?“

And what a good question that is.

„I... don't really think much about others, to be honest. What I need to do right now is decide what I think about me.“

It sounds so incredibly edgy, I'm indeed glad that nobody but him can viddy and slooshy my cheesy self now. Is it okay that he's turning me into a messed up, malenky cheeseball?

„I think I understand,“ he just says. „You still need to get to know yourself better. Understanding oneself and finding out what you really want can take a long time.“ He lets out a quiet sigh and strokes my shoulder. „I just hope you really don't regret anything that happened between us.“

„No,“ I immediately respond. „No, I don't regret anything. If there's one thing in my life so far that I don't regret... It's the hours we've spent together.“

I say that as if I was absolutely certain. In one way, I probably am, in another way, I'm not.

„Shit,“ Phil mumbles before he lets out a nervous little chuckle. „What are you doing to me? You're making me crazy!“

„Hmm. I do?“ Now, this is a moment of certainty for sure. „Maybe I can make you even crazier?“

He takes a breath that must feel like a britwa in his throat and his legs shake in a concerning way when I kiss his neck and give it a soft bite, like he has done with my neck as well yesterday. He's so turned on, so much it is literal torture for him. I know because I've felt like that myself already – not even 24 hours ago.

„I'll make you so crazy you'll forget your own name,“ I whisper into his ear, and my heart makes a happy little leap at his relieved moan as I let my hand slide between his thighs. And I never would have thought the idea of pleasuring someone else instead of getting pleasured myself would excite me that much. But apparently, it does.

Chapter Text

We've been showering for ages and I can only hope Phil's electricity bill will forgive us both. He hasn't said anything about that though, so I guess it's alright.

„I could really eat a horse right now,“ I say, grinning and stretching my limbs a bit. „Well, maybe not literally... But a sandwich or something would be nice.“

Phil gives me an amused (and extremely seductive) look over his shoulder while he's standing in his small open kitchen, petting and feeding his little koshka and then pouring himself a large cup of coffee. And a glass of milk for thirsty old me.

„Good you don't mean it literally, I don't have a horse in my fridge currently.“ He smirks as I sit down on the counter and watch him preparing breakfast. „What would you like on your sandwich?“

„Uhh...“ Focus, Alex. Answer his question. If only the sight of him buttering a slice of bread wouldn't be so sexy and distracting! „Maybe some cheese and ham? And a few slices of eggiwex?“

„Eggi-what?“ He stares at me as if I had just told him I had a secret collection of sparkling unicorn-plushies under my bed. „Is that one of your Nadsat-words again? But it sounds way too cute for that!“

„Can't a cute guy like me use a cute word now and then, Sir?“ I reply, giving him a cocky look. „It means 'egg', by the way. In case you haven't guessed already.“

Phil just returns the look I shoot at him and continues to prepare the sandwich with all the things I've listed.

„You're lucky, I have all of that. But I fear you'll have to eat your eggiwex separately, or else you'd have to wait for a while till you could have it hard-boiled.“ Glancing over at me once more, he adds: „Be careful where you're sitting, don't knock anything over.“

„It's goddamn hot when you talk so strictly, you know that?“ He just raises one eyebrow with a small grin. „By the way, Sir, could I have some coffee as well? If I ask for it as politely as possible?“

„Hmmm.“ Phil gazes into space, pretending to think about it. Of course he doesn't actually have to think about it, he can't say No to me. „Do your parents allow you to drink coffee? You know caffeine can have some strong effects?“

He tries to sound serious, like a doctor or a teacher. Behind the awkwardness and those black clothes hides a real joker.

„I've heard rumors about it, Sir,“ I respond, completely serious litso as well. „Pe and Em haven't offered me coffee yet. They only know about my love for milk.“

He nods, his lips pressed together.

„I understand,“ he says, still with that doctor-voice. „So I help you do something forbidden, or at least something your parents would not approve of, hm? They'd be mad at me, wouldn't they?“ He takes a sip of his own coffee, not averting his eyes from me. „What a bad boy you are.“

„Oh, yes, I am. Very bad indeed.“ This gets better and better! „And you're making it even worse, don't you? By helping me do something a bit on the taboo side, right? You're even enjoying it, admit it!“

That seems to really make him think for a moment. Yes, choose your words wisely. Let us play a little more.

„I enjoy this a lot, yes,“ he says eventually, now smirking at me again as he lets his hand rest on my thigh. „How would your parents react if they knew what... else I have already done with you?“ His cheeks seem to get a little redder, and I shudder slightly. No... more than slightly. „I bet they would hate me and think I'm a creep. But do they know about the things you do when you go outside with your gang?“

For a while, I just hold his gaze, taking a sip of my moloko without the plus.

„You're asking me questions now, aren't you? What do you think, Phil?“

„Huh,“ he says, now playfully tickling my thigh. I let out an embarassing squeek. „I think that your parents don't know anything. Right? They probably think you're just a sweet and nice boy who wouldn't harm a fly. Not suspecting how intimidating you can be. And your gang, on the other hand, probably doesn't suspect that you can be a very sweet guy indeed, if you want. How... ironic.“ He smiles wider. „They also probably don't know how cute you sound when someone tickles you.“

Here I am, my brothers, being treated like a floofy little pet-pet by a malchick ten or twenty years older than me – and enjoying it. Oh, it goes downwards with me. Very rapidly.

„You really think I'm sweet, Phil, don't you? You really mean it?“

„Didn't you say you're sweet yourself not long ago?“ He leans even closer, I can smell his freshly showered skin and the hint of coffee in his breath. Mhmm. It's really nice. „It was very sweet how you were lying in my arms tonight,“ he whispers. „And how you've clung to my shoulders yesterday while you were riding me. Or those sweet sounds you've made in the shower while my tongue was inside you...“

My plott immediately gets warm again. One moment, he's so shy and cautious and embarassed about everything, and the next moment, he's the filthiest dirty talker.

„And how would your parents react if they knew those details?“ I ask him, a bit too smug maybe. „I think they might think you're a creep as well, hm?“

I wonder if I perhaps shouldn't have said that when he breathes in sharply and just stares at me as if all his slovos have abruptly died away.

„My parents think I'm a freak anyway,“ he finally responds, smirking absently. A bitter smirk, I'd say. „If they knew I was not only dating a guy but far worse – a schoolboy who's half my age – dear Lord, they would despise me even more!“ He chuckles quietly. I'm pretty sure I can sense lots of self-hatred behind that chuckle, and it somehow... stings. „Good thing I've moved away and lived in this apartment on my own for seven years now,“ he adds, smiling at me, as if to assure me he doesn't have to care about his family anymore.

„So, I guess you could say we're both creeps then, eh? You and me. Both in our own way.“

I wink at him and rub his thigh with one rook. I don't want him to make such a bitter litso, I don't want the fun to end already. Phil sighs.

„I wish I could at least be a creep your own age and not an adult who fails to act in a responsible way,“ he says, his bitter smile turning to more of a sad smile now. „I wish I could be 15, too, and go to school with you. Rebel against the teachers together.“

„You as my classmate?“ That makes me giggle. „Sounds great. Would certainly make school a bit less boring.“

Phil makes a malenky sound reminiscent of a chuckle as well. Nothing more.

„So... I'm still hungry,“ I say, glancing at the half-finished sandwich he seems to have forgotten. Phil looks at it, too, letting out an apologetical „Oh“ before he continues his preparations.
„I'm sorry! Where was my mind?“

„We both know where it was,“ I reply, jumping down the counter when Phil goes to the kitchen table where he puts the plates and cups and my glass of Moloko without plus, of course, so we can finally have breakfast. And we sit there for a long time, sipping our drinks and eating and talking about everything and nothing. He asks me about school, if I like going there, if I get good grades. Doesn't tell me much about his own time at school, just asks me questions about my life, my droogs, my home. I tell him about my snake, my dear Basil, and he seems to be in love just from slooshing about him. Then we talk a bit more political or philosophical (I don't know, I'm usually not interested in that cal), how it's useless to keep playing along with society's games when the system's broken anyway. This man has an incredibly interesting opinion about all this. That we're all just animals, living among other animals, and that the Earth will survive us all in the end. That we think we're such a big deal but in fact we're nothing in the bigger picture – and still we need all those rules and morals we've made up ourselves because humanity just can't live without this bolshy system everyone tries to be a part of so badly. Even though it's nothing but a charade.

I love our little conversation and how he has put all that, and we agree that we'll just be two edgy rule-breakers rather than empty shells who always swim with the flow. It is a pleasure to talk to him, such a pleasure, my brothers. Nobody else ever talked to me like that.

After I-don't-know-how-long, Phil glances at the clock, his eyes widening.

„Damn... Almost quarter past one.“ He laughs briefly. „I'm sorry to tell you but... I don't have that much time anymore, unfortunately... “

„Awww. Too bad, huh?“ I don't make it sound too seriously. But, to tell the truth, I'm really sad we have to part already. „I'll miss you, Phil,“ I say, placing my hand on his, hoping he knows that I really mean it. Judging by his expression, he does.

„I'll miss you, too. Really.“ He gets up from his chair, and so do I. „I hope we'll see each other again soon. Uhm... Do you want my phone number, maybe?“

„No. Who needs phone numbers? I want to stay here!“ Phil looks half amused half overwhelmed. „Alright, alright, I know that's not an option, don't worry! I wouldn't complain about your number,“ I say quickly, approach him and lean my head against his chest. „But I'd really like to just stay here. Just so you know.“

No reply. But he closes his arms around me in the most loving way I can imagine and gives me a last kiss that almost makes me lose my mind. And then he fetches a piece of paper that he hands over to me after he's written something on it.

„I usually don't like phone calls very much,“ he says with an awkward smile. „But you can call me whenever you want. No matter the reason.“

„You can bet I will!“

Reluctantly, we part from each other, I look around once more to make sure I won't forget anything, and before one of us can change their mind, I walk to the front door and, with a big gesture, wave him goodbye.

„Aaah! There you are, my brother!“

A goloss I know welly well sounds from out of nowhere as soon as I've walked around the corner, just after I've left Phil's apartment behind.

„What a surprise!“ I shout back in a solemn manner, trying to hide how their unexpected presence startled me. Dim, Pete and Georgie, all three of them. „May I ask what you're doing here?“

Georgie tilts his gulliver and stares at me, glazzies wide, smirking.

„Well, we've been wond'ring what you've been doing here the whole night.“ He turns to the other two. „Right?“

They nod and chuckle. Pete folds his arms.

„Who's that malchick you went home with?“ He gestures towards Phil's apartment, apparently amused. „Did he have... lots of money perhaps?“

Money. Of course that's the first thing those three apes think about. I don't really wanna imagine that they must've stalked me for Bog-knows-how-long.

„Perhaps he has? Who knows,“ I respond, rooks in my pockets. I don't even realize that I've turned around to cast one more glance at the house I've spent my recent fateful 17 hours in.

„Did you say ' has'?“ I hear Pete ask and turn to the other two again. „You mean he's still there, nothing happened?“

„Do you... like him maybe, my brother?“ Georgie adds to Pete's implications, making all three of them giggle, Dim with his typical stupid horse-grin, miming a few kisses into the air. I smirk back at them, even though it makes me a bit razdraz on the inside.

„Yes, Pete, he's still there in one piece. And I do like him, that's correct.“

Now they gawk at me as if there's a bunch of yarbles growing out of my head. Georgie, that shitface, bursts out into laughter.

„So, you admit it just like that?“ He eyes me from top to bottom. „Did he fuck you?“

The laughing continues, making the razdrazness inside me grow that much more intense, I have to take a breath to keep calm. It's alright, everything's fine.

„Why, Georgie, my brother – it almost sounds like you're jealous,“ I remark, maybe with a bit too much cockiness. „What's it to you, hm?“

Georgie's grin disappears immediately.

„Jealous? Do I look like a fag to you, my little droogie, hm?“ There's an aura of confidence around him. Pretty sure it's fake. „I can find me some horrorshow devotchkas in a split second, don't need an old man for that. But if that's your taste as of late...!“

The other two giggle at that. Dim's giggle is loud and shrill, as always. Pete has the decency to do it quietly at least.

„Well, Georgie, my boy.“ He looks into my eyes with a deadly glare. „You're the one who wanted to know what happened between Phil and me, aren't you? A bit suspicious, isn't it?“

„Phil?“ Dim repeats before letting out an exaggerated „Ooooh!“ and another gloopy giggle. Georgie proceeds to stare at me coldly.

„How about we go now? Korova Bar anyone?“ Pete asks hesitantly, as if he's trying to prevent the situation from exploding. Georgie nods, his smirk returning.

„Oh yes. A bit of Moloko Plus would be nice.“

„I second that,“ I say, internally thanking Pete for being so keen on having peace inside the gruppa. „Let's go then, eh?“

With that, we finally leave the place – and Phil's apartment – behind, and after twenty minutes or something arrive at the Korova Bar.

„Well, Alex!“ Georgie turns to me, raising one eyebrow with a curious but somehow sarcastic smile. „You'll certainly treat your fellow Droogs to a drink, won't you? After you've spent time with that ominous rich Phil-Guy who surely left you some deng?“

Now they all stare at me in anticipation, and I must admit, I'm a bit lost for words. At least for some seconds.

„What do you think how much I got from that Phil-guy, Georgie?“

„Hm,“ Georgie says pensively. „Depends on how you got the money, I suppose. Maybe you stole it, or maybe he gave it to you willingly?“

Dim chuckles, loud enough that the whole bar can sloosh him.

„As a payment, you mean? For some... services?“

They both look at me, waiting for an answer, the stupidness written over their faces.

„Hm. What if it's the latter? Does that make you angry, Georgie-boy? Maybe you're not jealous of me – but rather of the 'old man'?“ I grin back at him, leaning towards him a bit. „Maybe you would've liked to give me your money for some services?“

Georgie turns very red, his fists clenching, and – surprise! – he's the one Dim and Pete laugh at now.

„Well, well,“ Pete says, „shall we order our drinks? Moloko Plus for everyone?“

Georgie-boy gazes into space with some kind of a bitter smile, as it seems.

„Yes, Moloko Plus. As sharp as possible.“ After looking around for a moment, his bitterness vanishes and his playfulness returns. „How about we look for some nice devotchkas when we leave here? I feel a desire for some sweet, bolshy groodies.“

„Oh yes!“ Dim giggles and gives me a nudge with his chubby elbow. „One for each of us, alright? Alright?“

„Alright, alright, yes! Patience, my brothers,“ I grin at them all. My glazzies are mostly glued to Georgie though. I didn't expect a single one of my droogies to react understandingly when they get the slightest hint that one of us could be attracted to, well, something other than ladies – and I won't go further than this with the hints, that's for certain. But Georgie, I'm not sure what it is with him. His behaviour is peculiar. He's always been a bit... difficult, on the other hand. „Alrighty then,“ I exclaim once again, looking for the milk-dispenser (one of those, like, woman-statues they have here, all nagoy and real horrorshow) but it seems to be broken, so I walk up to the bartender instead with feather-light steps and the friendliest smile on my lips I can muster. „Good day, Sir,“ I say cheerfully. „I'd like to order some drinks for my good droogs and myself! Moloko Plus for each of us, to be more precise, and with a good amount of knifes in it, if it's no trouble to you.“

„Knifes?“ the bartender repeats, his confusion obvious, before he gasps dramatically. „Oooh! Of course, yes. Take a seat, please!“

„Thank you, Sir!“ I respond delightedly, search for a nice table for all of us and find the perfect one after only a short moment. Enough space for us four, and at the next table, very close by, there's a real pretty young devotchka sitting all alone, a cup in one hand and a fork in the other that she uses to eat a slice of cake – so much more civilized and slowly than my droogs could ever manage. „I think this is the right place for us to rest our sharries,“ I say with a small grin directed at the devotchka while I go to the table and take a seat. She notices and smiles back. Only at me, my brothers. Dim throws his big horse-grin at her and waves his rook as soon as he's spotted her, the other two just sit down silently. The girl giggles. What a sweet sound, the sound of innocence and purity that can turn to naughti-naughtiness so easily. Just what I need right now.

„Already found a target, huh?“

Pete smirks at me, I feel my ego doing a little boost-up.

„That's how it's done!“ Again, my gaze goes to Georgie. „What about you, Georgie? Shall I find you a cute one, or rather a hot one? Or maybe both?“

„I'm fine with both, as long as it really is a she,“ Georgie replies, the sarcasm audible. That actually makes me laugh but before I can answer, the bartender comes to our table with our drinks.

„Here you are! Five... Moloko Pluses. Is that the correct plural?“ He affects a laugh and puts the glasses down. „Anyway – hope you enjoy them!“

And very quickly, he's disappeared.

„Cheers,“ I say, grabbing my glass and lifting it with a smirk. „Let's have a good time now, eh?“

„Cheers, brother!“ they all respond (even Georgie), and for now, I really think it will be a good time, a good evening with my droogies, just as I know it, just as we've spent our evenings so many times. Well, actually, it's not evening yet, but to me, the evening begins as soon as we start our... how can I put it? Ultraviolent rituals.

I shut my eyes and focus on the familiar taste, my heart and mind completely in the here and now – when I hear that sweet, innocent voice uttering a question and see that the devotchka has left her seat and come to our table instead.

„May I sit with you maybe?“ she asks in an overly cute manner, playing with her neon-pink hair, before her big glazzies look at my litso again to give me a wink. The ego-boosting continues.

„Sure, sure, my pretty one! Come sit!“ She does as she's told and sits down beside me with her cup and cake. I analyze her from top to bottom and lean closer to her. „What's your name, little sister?“

Dim and Pete watch the scenario with curiosity, Georgie rolls his eyes and keeps drinking without losing a word.

„I'm Susi,“ the devotchka says, licking a drop of coffee or whatever it is from her spoon (coffee – I've had some myself today, I instantly remember, I've had some from him), then she leans closer as well, kind of seductively. „And your name, pretty boy?“

'Pretty boy', she says. Well, she's right about that.

„Alexander DeLarge, my sweet. But you can call me Alex, however you like!“

„Alexander DeLarge?“ Susi giggles. „What an impressive name! Do you come here often, Alexander DeLarge?“

„You could say so. Quite often, yes.“

„Me, too, I come here just as often!" Dim says grinning, as if he assumed Susi would care about that in any way. Her petite rook puts the fork and spoon away to caress my shoulder.

„I've never been here before but maybe I should come more often,“ she purrs. I can see how Georgie gets more tense with each second, and the next moment, he suddenly gets to his feet, litso kind of bitter.

„I'm sorry, my brothers. I need some fresh air.“

My other two droogies look at him in a bit of confusion but don't seem like they'd want to stop him.

„Alright, brother. See you later, huh?“

That's all they say as they watch him leave, and I don't know if Dim and Pete do but I certainly notice the very odd glance Georgie gives me over his pletcho before he walks out the door. Dim shrugs, directing his focus back at Susi very quickly who has made herself a bit more comfortable by now, leaning against my shoulder as if that was the coziest place in the world. Wrapping one arm around her, I feel myself relaxing. A drink, two friends, a girl – this is the life, isn't it?

We stay in the Korova for about an hour longer, sharpen ourselves up and then leave together – Dim, Pete, Susi and I. Little Susi comes with me, of course, while the other two go their own way, and I probably don't have to explain how we spent our time together, my brothers. I can assure you, though, she really is a sweet girl – with and without platties.

After that, we part for now and I meet with my droogs once again, Georgie included, to have our usual fun-time with some gloopy and starry vecks that are unfortunate enough to cross our paths.

It's not hard to forget about those things I've done yesterday and today morning. I don't know what was wrong with me in... his presence; maybe I just needed something new and it, well, escalated a bit. But now, everything's back to normal, isn't it? This is what I'm used to. And I like it and I don't feel bad about it, my friends.

It's gotten dark already, Dim, Pete and Georgie have gone home, and I'm on my way home as well, whisteling a song I've heard on the radio or I don't know where. That is to say, until I see a silhouette in the distance, leaning against a streetlamp – and as I get closer, I recognize who that silhouette is.

„Alex, what a surprise!“ the stinky figure shouts, spreading his arms while chewing on something, like he always does for some reason. Maybe he thinks it looks cool. „Going home after a long day, eh?“

I sigh.

„Billyboy,“ I respond, not even trying to sound enthusiastic. My hand ready to draw my knife if necessary, I briefly turn to look around me. But it seems to be only us two. „What do you want? I have to admit, I'm not in the mood right now.“

„Why so negative?“ Billyboy chuckles – the ugliest sound in the world compared to the giggle of my sweet devotchka I've heard not long ago. Then he waves his bolshy rook into my face, making me dodge reflexively. His rook is holding a bottle. „Maybe I just want a nice conversation from rival to rival, hm? Want some beer?“

„Beer? Not my preferred drink, actually.“ I stare at the bottle he's still holding out to me, as if he's waiting for me to give him a clear answer. „Well,“ I add, pondering. It is tempting in some way – the thought of some more alcohol, I mean. Also, that would be something entirely new to have a drink with my rival, and I'm apparently up to trying new things lately. „Y'know, why not!“

Billyboy smiles as he watches me grab the bottle and take a sip. Yeah. Still tastes like beer which is still not my thing.

„So... How've things been?“ I ask between two sips before I hand the bottle back to him, smirking slightly. „What do you wanna talk about, huh?“

Billyboy keeps gaping at me, it literally makes me wonder if he's not right in the gulliver. Not that he ever was. But that stare of his, my brothers, it almost makes my skin crawl.

„What? Would you please answer me, o Billyboy? Or have you forgotten how to form slovos?“

„Oh, I'm rather well, little Alex,“ he finally responds, grinning widely. Taking the bottle from me. He govoreets some more but I don't understand everything. There's a very weird feeling suddenly building up inside my gut. „And what have you been doing today, if I may ask? Hooked up with some nice devotchkas?“ Seconds pass. Veeery slowly. „Or maybe... with a nice malchick?“

„What... do you...“

I try to speak, anything, and I'd love to just punch that dimwitted grin out of that nasty, bolshy litso in front of me. But I can't even think properly, my brothers, and the next thing I know is that my nogas don't want to keep me upright anymore. No, that can't be, no, no, no... Did that stinky dumbass really... Did he really...

My plott collapses to the ground and the last thing I hear is that ugly, ugly goloss, laughing at poor me, before all the lights go out.

Chapter Text

It's still dark around me, my whole plott feels heavy and I can barely open my glazzies when I regain consciousness, my brothers. Everything hurts. Everything's blurred. And on top of that, it's cold.

Wait... What happened even?! Where the hell am I? It's hard to tell with that surreal, blurred vision, it literally feels like I'm trapped in a nightmare. I don't recognize this place. I don't recognize anything.

„Uhhh...“

My own voice cuts through the silence and sounds like a zombie in a gloopy B-movie. I'm certain I would feel some kind of panic – if I wasn't too tired to really feel anything.

My eyelids seem to have a life of their own and I would probably fall asleep again immediately. But it's so cold... The wind. The wind is cutting into my flesh. Something's not right. The cold is... It doesn't feel the same everywhere. What is the meaning of th-

Oh, the darkness is too heavy. I can't... focus.

...

Some shoom jerks me out of the darkness after... I've no clue how long. Sounds like... a motor? A car? Seems to come closer, and I tell you, I can't stand that shoom, my gulliver's close to exploding. It's getting worse though, and the next moment, my brothers, I have to endure an even nastier sound. Laughter. Several malchiks laughing. It can't get even worse than this, right? Oh yes, it can. Because as soon as I manage to fully open my glazzies, I realize something that I don't like in the slightest. My rooks are tied. By a rope, holding them together in front of my lying plott.

The laughing comes closer and it suddenly stops, and I swear I'm gonna freak out any second.

„Wow... What do we have here? Isn't that little Alex?“ one of the voices says, very amused, as it seems. I try to turn my gulliver a bit to take a look at them, and I suddenly realize another thing. The reason my plott isn't equally cold everywhere – it's because I'm half-naked. My coat and boots are still in place but everything in between... isn't. No, not even the coat really, it doesn't cover me properly.

„What's that on your back?“ the guy behind me continues to speak, obviously mocking me – I'm not sure what's bigger right now, the desire to know what he means with that, or the desire to kick those zoobies out of his disgusting face. „I'm your slut, o my brothers!“ he now exclaims loudly and solemnly, and I instantly wonder if it's some case of Tourette-syndrome or anything. But then it dawns on me. That's what he meant. That goddamn sentence is written on my back and he just read it out to his droogs. „Ooh,“ he giggles, „that's interesting, isn't it? Our very own slut!“

Their laughter mixes together and turns to an unbearable, purely evil thing vibrating in my whole being.

„I... I will...“ It's so frustrating how I still can't speak the way I want to. „I'll make you pay for this!!“

The thing that's their laughter turns louder and pains my gulliver even more, if that's possible.

„Yeah? You'll make us pay? How?“ The malchik – it's Billyboy's favourite droog, Leo, I notice – leans close to me and pulls at my hair. „Doesn't look like you could do much, Lexiboy.“

„Looks like you're pretty helpless,“ one of the others adds with a grin, coming closer as well, and I wince when I feel his filthy rook sliding down my back. „That pretty butt belongs to us now, huh?“

An embarassing noise escapes me as I try to fight this terrible, terrible feeling, this sheer and utter helplessness, but I can't fight a single thing right now. It hurts, my head hurts so much, I feel so sick.

„You monsters...!“ I hiss, fists clenching, waiting to finally get a chance to punch someone. „I... won't break so easily, you hear that? You won't get that satisfaction!“

„Monsters?“ Leo lets out a high-pitched chuckle. „Such a dramatic slovo coming from you? Hypocrit!“ His rook touches me as well now, it strokes the back of my thigh, and then his breath touches my ear, making me shudder heavily. „What shall we do with you now...little slut?“

No... This can't be. This must be a nightmare. Yes, certainly! That's why everything feels so dull and surreal.

„You won't break me,“ I repeat but the way it comes out, it's nothing but a pathetic whisper. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

„Damn,“ one of Leo's droogs says with an audible grin. „Is he crying? You've made little Alex boohoo, Leo!“

Leo chuckles again, his breath still grazing my skin.

„I must admit,“ he mumbles, and I whimper (even more pathetically) when he grips my hips tightly, „that kinda turns me on.“

„No!“ This can't be, this can't be... He grinds his filthy plott against me from behind, and my hands are literally tied. I can't do nothing. I really feel like crying. No, they're right – I am already. „What did I... do to deserve this?“

Apparently, that's funny to them.

„Is that a serious question?“ Leo pulls me closer against himself. „Aren't you just... curious how a young, helpless devotchka feels when she's caught by you and your droogies? Have you never wondered about that?“ The others giggle, one of them starts to touch himself. Again, I feel Leo rubbing against me, I can feel how horny he is. I'm gonna be sick... „I'm sure you've wondered about that plenty of times,“ he whispers into my ear. That asshole. That motherfucking bolshy son of a bitch, I hate him, I hate them all, I hate them all!

„Stop, let go of me!“ is all I manage to respond which only makes them laugh more. More and more.

„He wants you to stop, Leo,“ one of the others chuckles, and I feel like a fool, as if there was any use telling them to stop! Leo sighs, and without a warning, he pushes me to the ground, making me lie on the grass again, litso forwards, backside turned towards the others. I don't like where this is going, I really don't like it. He's unzipping his pants, I can hear that unmistakable noise. Then, he takes a deep breath, one of anticipation and excitement.

„I'm gonna have so much fun with you,“ Leo whispers before his presence lingers over me and his thing presses against me, seconds away from... you now what I mean. I don't wanna say it.

„Stop it, Leo! STOP!! I'll do anything, just stop already!“

I hate myself. I hate how desperate I sound. Please, just make it stop, please...

„You'll do anything?“ Leo grins. I know it even though I can't see it. What I see is nothing but the dirt and the grass underneath me, very blurred, both because of the goddamn tears in my eyes and because everything is blurred anyway. He grinds against me once again and I just want to rip those pipes and those glazzies out of my plott for betraying me the way they're doing right now. „If you'll do anything – then why don't you just shut up and take it like a man, huh?“

Just when I thought it couldn't get any more humiliating, I hear a familiar goloss from the distance.

„What the hell do you think you're doing here?!“

It's Pete. Pete and Dim, my two droogies, only Georgie is missing. They're staring at me and them in shock, and I don't know if I feel relieved or utterly embarassed to be seen by them like this.

„You clearly don't know your limits!“ Pete shouts when he's gotten over his shock apparently, and the next moment, they're running towards Billyboy's gang, weapons drawn and very angry. At least Pete. Dim's probably too dumb to be angry but he always has so much fun thrashing and kicking some malchiks' litsos that it doesn't really make a difference if he's angry or not, my brothers.

„Help me!!“ I scream at them as loud as I can – which isn't very loud at the moment. „Get me out of this! I can't move!!“

„Quiet!“ Leo hisses, giving me a smack on the gulliver as if I was his doggie he's trying to educate. „Fuck,“ he then mumbles before he finally lets go of me to put his pants back on and draw his own britwa. He chuckles. „Why must you disturb us? Your sweet little droog here was just about to experience the in-out of his life!“

The other gang-members chuckle with him, like a tribe of horny primates, all of them drawing their weapons while they're facing Pete and Dim. At least that's what I imagine they're doing, I still can't viddy very well. Someone inhales sharply, I think it's Pete. Maybe because he can't comprehend the sight of me lying here like a useless piece of shit.

„Nobody could have the fuck of their life with you,“ he says to Leo which apparently makes Dim giggle like a happy little boy. Not that he's wrong about that.

„Really now? I beg to differ,“ Leo responds, still sounding like he's having a real horrorshow time. I sloosh a metallic sound, he's probably playing with his knife. „I bet you want to fight over him, huh? A good ol' Who gets the girl-fight?“

My stomach makes an unpleasant twist at those slovos, I can tell you. Me, the helpless devotchka in this situation. The thought of that makes my vision blur even more and I really feel like a malenky, dirty dog that someone kicked out of their home, howling and whimpering for someone to save him.
I try to concentrate on my droogies, and before I can even think about anything for any longer, I hear growling and laughing from all around me, and I realize that they're beginning to fight just now, raising all their weapons and running towards each other like a bunch of vikings or something. Just that Billyboy's gang-members here are about twice as many as my own droogs.

Even though I can't viddy that much, I can still sloosh a lot of what's going on. There's grunting and battle cries, mostly from Leo and his droogs but I also sloosh Dim's goloss, making his signature caveman-sounds, and then I sloosh clonking and clanking as he probably lets his chain crash down on some of the enemies' gullivers. Pete doesn't make much sounds but he's always been a rather quiet one. Then, out of the blue, I feel two rough rooks grabbing me and pulling me to my feet. For a second, I have the silly hope that it's Pete. But it isn't.

„Mhh.“ The hot breath against my skin makes me shiver. „How about we have some fun together while the others are busy?“

Another pathetic whimper escapes me as said rooks start stroking my chest briefly and I realize that this malchik is holding me in front of himself like a shield. He must've gotten away from the fight somehow.

From the distance, I hear someone chuckle – Leo, I think –, but I'm pretty distracted by the tight grip around my plott and especially by the cold thing that's now pressing against my back. A blade? I don't even get the chance to process anything that's happening. The blade suddenly slashes my back and I can't do anything but cry out in pain. Oh Bog... That must be a bolshy streak of krovvy but not being able to see it makes it somehow worse...

„Beautiful,“ the malchik whispers, it's almost a moan. He must be completely out of his mind, totally insane! "You know," he says, now holding his knife against my throat, „Leo has a big mouth but the rest of him is not so big, actually. You will enjoy me a lot more, I promise!“

He grinds against me, just like Leo did before, and my droogs don't even seem to notice. I bet they're having fun with their little fight while poor, poor me is getting molested right over here.

„You like what you see, huh...?“ I ask, a shaky smile on my litso. Sometimes smiling is the best thing you can do when you know you're defeated, my brothers.

„Of course I like it!“ the malchik giggles, sounding even more insane. „I have a big kink for showing little arrogant bitches who's boss.“

He starts poking his blade against my neck rhythmically, and I feel an ice-cold shudder crawling down my spine as I'm becoming very aware of one thing – this is not only a terrifying, degrading situation. I could literally die, he could kill me if he felt like it. I would just stop existing. And the thought of that... It scares me.

„I'm not gay, you know,“ the malchik says, his breath on my ear making me tremble so heavily, I feel like I've lost all control over my body. „But when I can make someone squeal, I don't care much if it's a dude or a chick.“

Will this be the end of me? Is my life already over? What a miserable end that would be. But what really stings is the thought that I don't even know if anyone would be sad about it. Would anyone really miss me? Would it make a real difference if the world has me in it or not? No. It wouldn't. It would just be over, and that's it, everything would go on as if nothing happened.

„What about you, little Alex?“ I hear the malchik's goloss behind me once again. I don't even remember what he's said before that, and honestly, I don't care. May he just shut his filthy mouth. „What does that message on your back mean?“ he asks. „'I'm your slut, o my brothers'? Did Billyboy write that? Does he know something about you we don't know?“

He continues to rub himself against my backside and, as if that wasn't already enough, also puts his free hand between my legs now, squeezing me and stroking me, and I don't want to feel anything while he does that, I really, really don't.

„You know what?“ I finally respond, my voice almost breaking. „How about you just s-stop talking? Because you're talking nothing but crap! Just like gloopy, stinky Billyboy...!“

„Ooh.“ He laughs. Again. All that laughing, it pains in my head. „And you think I would just do as you tell me? Do you really think anyone could take you seriously while you're stuttering and trembling like that?“ He keeps stroking me, even more than before, he's literally trying to jerk me off, and I hate that my body actually responds to that, I hate it so much, it doesn't feel good, it doesn't!! „If Billyboy wrote that message on your back, there must've been something that inspired him to do so,“ he keeps talking. I can hear him grin, and I don't know if I've ever felt so much hate, for this malchik, for Billyboy, for the whole world. For myself. „So, I just really wonder, little Alex... Are you gay? Are you a little slut that wants to be gang-fucked really badly?“ His plott is grinding against me once more. „I bet, absolutely no one would take you seriously anymore if they knew that about you. You would be nothing but The Slut to everyone, a little whiny whore we can use to have fun with!“

„No...“ I won't let a random person break me, I tell myself again and again, I won't, I won't, I won't. But the way I try to suppress those whimpers that constantly want to escape my mouth by making them sound like laughter – isn't that enough proof of my sheer patheticness? I'm already losing track of time, my thoughts become so confusing. I'm starting to see all sorts of images in my gulliver, just like they show it in movie-scenes where someone's close to their death and sees their whole life before them, as if they were sitting in a cine. There are images of all the devotchkas I've had, all the power I've had. And then images of Phil. The hours we've spent with each other. Phil's arms around me, his lips on my own. I'm closing my eyes, realizing that what I've felt with Phil has given me something that all the devotchkas and all the power could never give me, even when I was at the top, when I was as high as I could get and felt like Bog himself – I've never felt the way I've felt with him. But it's too late to think about all that now, isn't it? I'm held captive, I'm helpless, my brothers, and if I don't have any power right now, then what's left? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

„Come on,“ the malchik behind me says while all the other gang-members are still absorbed in their fight. „Just admit that you're enjoying this, little Alex. Struggling will only make it painful, you know that, huh?“

And as he makes another movement (I'm not even sure what kind of movement exactly but apparently, it's sufficient that I feel him being alive there behind me), I'm just completely losing it, more than I've ever lost it before. I hear myself screaming, crying out in frustration, and next thing I know is that I'm on my knees, sobbing, shaking uncontrollably, like a little child that can't find its parents. So incredibly weak. My whole body is out of control, doesn't obey me anymore. This is the absolute worst I can imagine.

„Awww, dammit!“ the malchik suddenly shouts, letting out a shrill giggle that makes me wince. „Did you just piss yourself? Are you so scared? Is this all too much for you, little Alex?“ He doesn't stop laughing, and I really can't help it anymore, I'm only a sobbing mess wishing to be killed before I have to endure more of this humiliation. I vaguely realize that the voice I hear next is Pete's voice, hissing something like „Fucking bastard!“ and „What's wrong with you?“ and „Let Alex go already!“, sounding really, really angry. But it's like I'm slooshing it from under water, and the last thing I sloosh is Leo's voice once again, that disgusting, malicious voice, saying that I'm just a bitch that deserves all of this – and then I pass out. For the second time today.

(Phil's perspective)*

I stand there, this godforsaken place surrounding me, one of those so called 'droogs' standing by my side – Georgie, if I remember his name correctly – and stare at the scenery before my eyes with horror. The guy has brought me here, I had no clue what he wanted at first, but now I'm beginning to understand. This is a nightmare I've walked into, a terrible, terrible nightmare. And when I spot him, lying on the ground, not moving, stripped down and completely helpless, I'm frozen in place for some seconds.

„God... No.“

All the other guys hissing or shouting at each other, trying to be intimidating, fade away as soon as I see him, Alex, lying there, and the only thing I can think of is how much I want to wrap my arms around him and take him away from here. No, that's not true, it's not the only thing. What's even stronger than that is the urge to get rid of all those others who have done that to him. And with 'get rid of' I mean kill.

„Hey, there's Georgie-boy,“ one of the guys shouts – one of the other gang, judging by the outfit. „What are ya doing, huh? You gonna come and fight, too? Or did you just come here to watch your friend getting taught a lesson by a real man?“ Georgie next to me clenches his fists. Then that guy (who really seems to be begging to get his eyes scratched out of his skull) looks over to me. „And you? Who the hell are you? You don't even know what we're doing and it's none of your business.“

I'm so tense right now, I could swear something inside me is going to tear apart if I have to witness all this for a second longer. Not only tear apart – explode.

„I don't know what you're doing? Really?“ I say in response, feeling a wave of ice-cold hatred building up in my stomach as I return that sick motherfucker's gaze. „It looks a whole lot like you all took advantage of someone who can't defend himself and abused him to unconsciousness...!“

The hate almost pains me physically; I have to be careful it doesn't blind me completely, doesn't make me do anything that will get me into even more trouble than I'm already stuck in. But as I look over to Alex again, it is overshadowed by that intense feeling of... I don't even have a word for it now. I just want to help him so badly.

I guess I must look as ready to kill as I feel because the guy who was holding Alex immediately lets go of him as soon as he looks into my face. I hear that Georgie-guy uttering something from the distance („You all better back off!“), and someone from the other gang responds with some smug sounding crap. I kneel down in the grass, take Alex into my arms and lift him up a little, as carefully as I can.

„Alex?“ I whisper, stroking his cheek briefly. But there's not the slightest reaction. „Fuck... That's... I...“ I can't finish the sentence. I don't even know what I want to say.

I might've known that Alex is in a gang and is often involved in all kinds of violent acts – but this is just cruel. Way too cruel.

Quickly, I free his wrists from the rope, then I search his body for any injuries. There are several bruises, and on his back, a long, deep cut, probably from the guy who held him captive not long before. My hands are trembling, I'm sure I'll go crazy if I stay here for any longer.

„I'll take care of you... I promise,“ I tell him quietly, even if he can't hear me, put his pants back on and lift him up once again, carrying him like a bride as I get to my feet. And one last time, I turn to those guys from the other gang with a stare I wish could make them all drop down dead. „You won't get away with this,“ I say – not loudly. But loud enough that they can hear me. And as I walk away from this horrible place, holding Alex tightly, they scream at me that I will regret this and that I'm a coward and a bastard and what not. But I don't give a single fuck, and luckily, maybe thanks to Alex's gang jumping in between them and me, I manage to take him with me without anyone following us.

Chapter Text

I haven't expected having him in my apartment again so soon. And I definitely didn't want it to be under such circumstances. But here we are.

Alex is lying on my couch, still unconscious, but his breathing has calmed down a little. I've already cleaned him up, taken care of his wounds (especially the big one on his back) and taken off his dirty clothes before I've replaced them with some of my own. The least I could do for him.

The fact that I've sent him away earlier, told him I don't have the time anymore even though I had plenty of time and just needed a break, time to think - it eats me up from inside. I should've let him stay with me, should've kept him safe.

I tense up automatically when his breathing gets faster again. He seems to have a nightmare which isn't surprising. After a moment though, he does something in his sleep that sends a shiver down my spine. He says my name.

„It's... It's alright. I'm here,“ I whisper, and hesitantly, I lean closer to him on the couch, taking his hand in mine. „You're safe now. I promise.“

He whimpers quietly and I just hope I haven't made it even worse by touching him. But that doesn't seem to be the case – he's just waking up.

„Ph... Phil?“

„Yes. It's me.“ I manage to give him a smile, relieved to hear him talking to me. „You're in my living room, I... I carried you away from those... psychos...“

Imagining what those guys must've done to him makes me feel sick for a moment but I don't let it show. I want to be someone he can rely on now, someone he can lean himself against, someone who's there for him. Not someone who reminds him of the bad things that have happened to him shortly before.

Alex looks down at himself, at his wrists with the still visible marks of the rope that's been tied around them so tightly, and he seems to realize that he's wearing different clothes. He's trying to concentrate, I can see that, to remember what exactly has happened. And I don't know if it's a mental or rather physical reaction or maybe both but his whole body is suddenly breaking out in shivers as he just stares at nothing, completely blank. Seeing him like that gives me a sting in my heart.

„Shhh...“

I lean closer to him, put my arms around him, press him to my chest carefully. He makes little whimpering-sounds once again but then starts to relax a bit, at least his breathing calms down slowly and he rests his head against my shoulder while I stroke his hair, the same hand-motion again and again, probably the same blank stare on my face I've seen on him before, as if I was in a very strange kind of trance. I'd like to say something, do more for him. But I don't know how.

„I, uhm...“ I take another deep breath and, after some time, loosen my grip around him, a bit worried I might hold him too tightly. „Your... clothes are in the wash. I gave you some of mine, I hope you're okay with them?“

As if clothes were the biggest problem right now. But I just need to talk to him, no matter how awkward it might be. Alex doesn't respond for a while, making me wonder if he has even understood what I've asked him. But eventually, he nods with a tiny smile.

„Yeah... Thank you.“

That's all he says. Goddammit. I don't want it to be so quiet again. I can't stand it.

„Don't thank me for that,“ I reply to him. „I could've never left you lying there like that.“

A mixture of concern, anger and sadness bottles up inside my stomach as I think about how I have found Alex, half-naked and tied up. I've also seen the message on his back, saying that he's everyone's slut or something like that. Someone must've written that line on him and put that rope around his wrists while he's been defenseless. And then he's been left there like that for all those... animals.

„I'm... sorry I have to ask you that but... what did they... do to you, Alex?“ I look at him, biting my lip slightly. Expecting the worst. „Did they...“

I look at Alex for a while who's still just gazing into space, but I keep waiting for an answer until I'm pretty sure I won't get one. Yes. Of course this isn't easy to talk about. „I mean... I've seen your injuries and I've taken care of your wounds,“ I add hesitantly. „You... don't have those kinds of injuries... luckily. But still, that whole situation I've found you in–“ My voice breaks a little and the tension makes me feel sick. „Please, be honest with me. They wanted to rape you, didn't they...?“

Alex stays silent, and to me, it feels like the silence goes on for hours. I can see that he doesn't want to answer that question, and it's not like I couldn't understand that. I understand it very, very well. After that seemingly endless moment though, he nods, without looking at me. But that's enough. I feel a cold shudder as I imagine what could've happened if Georgie and I hadn't arrived there and saved him. I can see how Alex is trying to hold back his tears, and it breaks my heart.

Hesitantly, I pull him a little closer again, stroking the back of his head soothingly.

„Your, uhm... Your droog, Georgie, was here,“ I try to explain. „I don't know why he knows where I live but... whatever. He was kinda nervous and seemed to feel... guilty. And then he said that you might be in danger and asked me if I care enough about you to come with him to that place and look after you...“ I shake my head absently. „I don't really have a clue what that all means, and he behaved in a really strange way but... I'm glad he came here.“

Alex's eyes still gaze into what seems like a great hole of total emptiness, even while he wipes his tears away with his sleeves. Maybe I really shouldn't talk about all that right now, I think to myself. Maybe just let him rest. But unfortunately, there's still at least one thing we can't ignore.

„Do you...“ I swallow slightly. „Do you want me to call your parents?“

„What...?“ Now he finally raises his gaze and looks at me. Confused, as if my offer caught him completely off-guard. „Why? Why would you do that...?“

„Well... They're entitled to your custody and you live with them, don't you?“

I try to smile at him in a comforting way but, in fact, it only reminds me that I'm in no way his savior or anything else mildly positive – just a creep who has developed an obsession with a kid and now tries to win that kid's heart. Nothing more.

Alex doesn't seem convinced though, he still looks at me as if I had lost my mind.

„I mean... If you really don't want that, I won't call them. I know, your parents... don't even know about the things you do with your gang and everything, right? I won't tell them anything.“ Sighing, I keep stroking the back of his head, desperately trying not to think too much about those things that make me hate myself even more than usual. Just be an adult man, I tell myself, a reasonable, stable adult man and support him as best as you can. „You can stay here, if you want. Until you feel better.“

Alex lets out a sigh as well, gazes into the invisible hole of nothingness again and then mumbles with a broken voice:

„I don't... want my parents to know about this. Please... I don't want them to know.“

Why do I even feel so terrible for him? The thing that happened to him, or almost happened to him – isn't that exactly what Alex himself does to other people with his gang? Intimidate others? Scare them, humiliate them, beat them up... rape them? Now he has experienced the role of the victim himself, and many would probably say he deserves it. But... it just doesn't feel right. No. No, he didn't deserve this. Looking at him right now, he just looks like a lost dog that's been kicked around and that doesn't know where to go. Goddamn.

„Yes. It's okay.“

Closing my eyes, I place a soft little kiss on his forehead and then just sit there with him in silence. But it's not that uncomfortable kind of silence anymore. There's just nothing left to say right now, and that's alright. Words aren't always needed.

We sit there like that for a long time, and slowly but surely, the tension fades and the atmosphere fills with a certain warmth. Peace. Only that deep connection left between us now. Only sympathy and understanding. A feeling that makes my own eyes water up, and I'm glad that Alex is already falling asleep and doesn't notice. And as I see him sleeping in my arms, I can't hold back my tears anymore, and I cry, as silently as I can to not wake him up, until I'm exhausted enough to fall asleep as well, following him into that relieving state of numbness. Sometimes numbness is the best thing that can happen to you.

When I open my eyes and take a look at the clock, almost two hours have passed. We've been sleeping for two hours – or at least I have. Alex seems to have been awake already, waiting for me to wake up, too, but probably not for very long. A pleasant shudder runs through my body as I see him smile at me and stretch a little.

„How are you?“ I ask him (twice – the first attempt sounded so feeble and hoarse that I had to repeat it), and Alex seems to ponder over that question.

„Exhausted,“ he responds after a while, letting out a long, deep sigh. „But maybe more... mentally. Physically, it's better now. Still have a pain in my gulliver though.“ After a short pause, he adds: „My head, that is.“

„Okay...“ Returning his smile, I try to think of what to say next. „I guess... it could be worse. Do you want to eat or drink anything? Or, uhm... do something to take your mind off things a bit? Watch TV? Listen to some music?“

„Hmm... Some water would be nice,“ Alex says, his words still a bit sluggish, as if he's sleep drunken. He probably is. I nod.

„Of course.“ A little reluctantly, I get up from the couch, pour him a glass of water and quickly return to my place by his side. Letting him alone, even if it's just for a few seconds, doesn't feel right. „You still look very sleepy,“ I say, and I remember something his friend, Georgie, has said to me during his attempt to explain the whole situation. „You... You've met another boy before all that happened, didn't you?“ I ask him hesitantly, careful to choose the right words. I don't want to trigger him. „Your... 'rival' or something? Billyboy?“

He winces, barely visible but he does.

„Billyboy... yes,“ he mumbles, taking a little sip. It's probably impossible not to trigger him in any way at this point, even if I'd really like to spare him that. But I also need to know some things. I can't just let those monsters get away with what they've done. „He... talked to me. He stood there and wanted to talk to me, and he gave me... a beer, I think.“ It all seems to come back to his mind. And suddenly, Alex's eyes open wider and there's a look of pure hatred in them. „He must've drugged me! He's put something into that beer, so that he could tie me up and leave me in that place for his gloopy, dumbass-droogs to find!“

Yeah... That's what I thought. I wonder how Alex's friend could've known about that circumstance though, but Alex doesn't seem to be bothered by that, at least at the moment, so I keep quiet about it.

„Try to keep calm,“ I tell him, knowing that it must sound like a joke. „I mean... I understand how you feel but your body needs rest. Getting into a state of rage will cost you energy.“

He lets out a frustrated sounding growl, his hands clenched into fists, but at least he seems to be trying to calm down. A little bit. A bit more when I lean against him and start stroking his shoulder again. (It is such a good feeling to know I have the power to soothe someone, to help someone feel safe.)

„I can't believe I've been so stupid,“ he then says with a bitter tone. „How could I drink from his goddamn, filthy bottle, can you tell me that?! I should've known it's a trick!“

„No, don't blame yourself. Maybe you could've been more careful, yeah, but... How should you know that something like... this was going to happen? It's not your fault!“

Alex looks at me with a small, sad smile on his face that practically tears me apart on the inside.

„How I should've known that this was going to happen?“ he repeats with that awful, defeated expression. „Because things like that happen all the time. Because it's extremely naive to think that someone who doesn't even like you will just have a drink and a nice conversation with you. People aren't nice. You can't trust anyone. That's how I should've known.“

I swallow, staring at the table. He's right. You can't trust anyone. That's just how it is and how it's always been.

My mind is spinning around, wandering into all different directions at the same time. And eventually, it comes back to that one thought that has already been going through my head since yesterday.

„I'm really sorry I keep mentioning your parents but... Are you really sure they aren't worried about you? Wondering where you are? Not in the slightest...?“

Alex seems surprised about that question, as if it came totally out of nowhere.

„Are you concerned about that, Phil?“

His smile changes in a way I'm not sure how to interpret. Again, I try to think before I speak, so I won't say anything stupid.

„Yeah. A little,“ I reply truthfully. „When we were in the bar together and you told me your age, I said I don't see you as a child, no matter how young you are. And that's true. If I saw you as a child, I... wouldn't have been... intimate with you.“ At least that's something I can say for sure. Probably makes it a little better. „But you... you're still only 15. And in some way, you are a kid, no matter how maturely you can articulate yourself and how adult you look. You need parents to care for you. It's... pretty sad that your parents don't seem to care that much. They don't wonder where you are and what you're doing when you're not home, even when you stay away for the whole night... That's– I don't know. If they love you, I don't get why they aren't worried about you, no matter what you do.“

The question is, do they even really love him? Maybe they're really just ignorant, and I'm not even that surprised. With parents who would've raised him and been there for him properly, he probably wouldn't have become a gang leader and criminal at such a young age. But who knows what's going on with families these days. I can't say that mine was better.

„You really... care about me, don't you?“ His body has become tense again but in a different way than before. Not like he's angry and full of hate. More like he's... afraid. „Do you really like me, Phil? Are you sure you don't just want to fuck me?“ He has tears in his eyes now, even though he's still smiling – but his words are as painful as... I don't even have a comparison for that. „If that's how it is, you can tell me,“ he goes on, laughing, his voice trembling. „I mean, how could you really like me? Why the hell would you?! You're the nicest person I've ever met, and I'm... well, you know how I am! You know it and you're still doing all this for me...?“ Another broken laughter, then he turns very quiet. „You're... really stupid for liking someone like me...“

I hear him gasping, even though he tries to not show any reaction, when I take him into my arms. I don't know if I've ever held anyone as tightly as I'm holding him at this moment. I haven't hugged people very often in general.

„I do like you. And yes, I know that I'm stupid. I know that it's probably not good for me... and maybe I'm not good for you either. But I can't do anything about it. I'm sorry...“

From the corner of my eye, I see Caleb approaching us, watching the scenario with big, curious eyes before he jumps on the couch as well. And the next moment, Caleb softly rubs his head against Alex's leg with a quiet little purr. That goddamn cat is just as stupid as me.

„Hey... buddy,“ Alex says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve one more time and then turning a little more towards Caleb to pet his head. Caleb purrs louder and leans into his hand happily. Watching that scene immediately makes me feel warmer inside. About a minute later, Alex turns his face to me again, obviously struggling to talk with me. „You've... asked me about my parents, right?“ Another long pause and a sigh. „They– I don't know if they love me. They're not... mean to me. But they never seemed very interested in my... thoughts, my ideas. Maybe they just had too much to do with work and didn't have the nerve and time to care for a child like me, you know? I mean... I'm the opposite of what every parent wishes for, ain't I?“

I guess it might not be easy for him to talk about this. Not because it makes him sad in any way though. More because he doesn't even know anything else and probably realizes only now that that's actually not the kind of relationship a child should have with their parents.

„You think... they couldn't deal with you?“ My thoughts drift away. Far away. I need to keep talking to keep them under control. „Did you have anyone else in your life as a child who spent time with you? Listened to your ideas?“

„Not really. No.“ Again, he looks at Caleb who stares back at him with an anticipating „Meow“. He smiles at Caleb. My heart is melting. „I would've liked to have someone to talk to, actually. But no one seemed to have expected that. They all thought I'm just that mischievous kid who likes to be a rebel and cause trouble without ever putting much thought into anything. Why would a kid like that need someone to have serious conversations with, huh?“

„Yeah... I get what you mean.“ Sadly. „Were there many things you would've liked to talk about? No, that sounds wrong... Uhm. Do you feel like... you've suppressed your feelings and thoughts a lot?“

„Hmm... Yes. I did.“ Despite that confession, he chuckles. „What else should I have done? If everyone expects you to be a tough guy without any feelings, and there's no one you can be honest with – how could you not suppress everything?“

„Doesn't sound like you were a happy child.“

But who's even happy? Who doesn't put on a mask and play charade regularly? That's not an excuse for the things he has done, I tell myself again and again, that doesn't justify that he's a brutal hooligan. But now... he needs support. Right now, he's the victim. And maybe not even for the first time, who knows.

„You can talk to me now,“ I say slowly. „You know that, right?“

His gaze is empty; I'm pretty sure he's getting really tired again. We should go to bed within the next few minutes but this is important.

„Yeah... Sure.“ It takes him a while, it's plain to see that he hasn't thought about all those things for a long time now. And when he speaks, he looks very absent. „I've often had... nightmares when I was little. Like... really bad ones,“ he says, his hand petting Caleb's back, an automatic action. „I've dreamt about... my parents getting killed. Or others wanting to kill or hurt me. One time when I was eight, I've dreamt that my Em had turned into some kind of witch. And you know what? She has killed my Pe in the cruelest way a little kid could imagine. And then, she has cooked him, a real horrorshow stew, and I had to eat it.“

My expression must look quite comedic, wide eyes, open mouth and everything.

„You've had that dream when you were eight? Oh, geez!“ There's absolutely nothing funny about it. But the thought that an 8-year-old would dream about his mother killing and cooking his father like a crazy serialkiller in a movie for adult audiences... damn, it's a little absurd. „And you've had such dreams... often?“

„Yeah. Almost every night,“ he answers my question with a straight face. Ooff.

„I know I've already said that but... Geez. That must've been... extremely disturbing.“

„It was, for a while. I've gotten used to it at some point.“ He shrugs. „Would've still been nice if I could've talked to somebody. Dreaming about getting hurt repeatedly, or about watching your Pe and Em killing each other or other really messed up things, and then talking to your Pe and Em as if everything was normal, pretending that you're happy, with no worries whatsoever – it gets tiring after some time. Very tiring, I can tell you.“

„Absolutely,“ I say, as if I knew exactly what that was like. Well, I didn't have that exact same experience, of course, but to be honest – I'm not that unfamiliar with really bad nightmares and with hiding from others how fucked up you are on the inside. On the other hand, my nightmares probably weren't on that same level of cruelty, at least not in my early childhood, and surely not on a daily basis. „Wow,“ I mumble, a bit lost for words. „That really sounds horrible. I'm sorry you've gone through that... Nightmares can be terrifying, I know that. But you're not alone anymore. Really, you aren't.“

„Thank you,“ he says, now sounding and looking very exhausted again. I'm waiting for him to say more but he doesn't, he just stares into the nothingness and as he does, I can see how his eyes are falling shut, making him appear so... weak. Caleb is still rubbing his head against him now and then which is probably the only thing keeping him from completely falling asleep.

„We should go to bed, shouldn't we?“ I suggest with a smile that probably looks a little concerned – which I am indeed. „Or do you want to use the bathroom first?“

„Bathroom,“ he responds, giving me a look I can only interpret as grateful. And, well, very tired.

„Alright, then... let's go.“ I help him get up, and as I realize he's probably close to just fainting again, I try to support him as good as I can, putting his arm around my shoulders, my own arm around his waist while I lead him to the bathroom door. „Do you want me to... come in with you?“ I ask hesitantly. „Sorry if that's a bit awkward. You just look like you'll fall asleep any moment and I want to watch over you.“

„It's okay,“ Alex says softly, his voice hoarse and his eyes barely even open. „I'd appreciate it...“

He'll definitely need a lot of rest, and I hope so much that he'll be able to sleep well, without any more nightmares or anything else slightly harmful. Just sleep, peaceful, nice sleep.

Out of a strange reflex, I close the door behind him and me once we're in the bathroom, even though there's no one else here besides us two who could get in. I'm probably a bit paranoid, or it's just a pointless habit.

„I, uhm... I can keep holding you, if you want,“ I say, kinda nervous because I don't want to make him uncomfortable. „If you want to use the toilet, I, uh... I'll look away, don't worry.“

Alex doesn't even answer that, there's just a very faint nod, and I can see that he tries to go to the toilet but is so weak and lightheaded that even such a simple task is too much for him. He looks like someone who has consumed tons of whiskey or something and doesn't even remember where he is or what he wanted to do. And not so long ago, he at least managed to talk to me and tell me about his dreams with a relatively clear voice. It all must've exhausted him a lot, and standing or even going is probably something he simply struggles with as long as those freaking knockout drops or whatever are in his system. Even with me holding him, his legs are wobbling in a really concerning way and I can't stand looking at that anymore.

„I'll help you,“ I mumble as I quickly decide to guide him a bit. Meaning, I pull his pants and underwear down (mine, to be more precisely, it's my clothes he's wearing after all), sit him down carefully and hold his hand to give him more support before I look to the side. This is not even awkward. It's too sad to be awkward, actually, seeing him so helpless and dependent.

It's all so fucked up. But in some way... it also feels good. I don't know if I should be ashamed of myself for seeing anything mildly good in this situation but it's just– This feeling of being able to be there for him like that. Of being by his side while he's so vulnerable, getting the chance to show him that he can really trust me, that I won't betray him in any way. It's like the bond between us is growing so strong in this extreme situation (maybe I wish someone would've been there for me like this), and, well, I don't know if I've ever felt anything like this. Probably not.

My hand holds Alex's tightly as I'm just standing there, staring at the wall and waiting for him to finish. It takes a while but I don't say anything, and when I notice from the corner of my eye that he's trying to stand up and pull his pants back on, I turn to him to help once more and guide him to the sink afterwards, pulling his sleeves up and holding his hands under a stream of warm water.

„I'll take you to bed after this,“ I say softly, my arm tightly around him for support. „You can sleep for as long as you want.“

Alex gives me another grateful smile that increases my urge to protect him from everything bad in the world even more. I let him relax under the warmth of the water for a little while longer, then I take him to the bedroom, consider if I should help him out of the clothes once more – but I decide it's better to just lay him down as he is because he needs his rest now, more than anything else. So I lay down beside him, my own clothes still on as well, pull the blanket over us both and caress his cheek softly.

„Just sleep,“ I tell him, noticing how he's trying to keep his eyes open, struggling to stay awake as if he was afraid of any consequences falling asleep could bring. After a moment though, he seems to give up and just sighs, leaning into me, his hand clutching my shirt. And in a matter of seconds, he's out like a light. I don't let go of him, it even takes me a while to reach for the light switch. But once it is dark in the room, my mind goes blank and I drift off into sleep as well, my arms tightly around him, only us two sharing the deep, familiar nothingness.

Chapter Text

„What do we have here, hm?“

The voice echoes inside my head, inside my whole body, my heart almost beating out of my chest as I try to quickly walk past the boy that voice belongs to. Not looking at his face. That would only make me feel even sicker, seeing that ugly, asshole-ish grin and those eyes looking me up and down from somewhere high above. It's not like the boy is so much taller than me – but that's how he sees himself, he and his stupid friends. Looking down on me and everyone else who doesn't fit their standards.

„I've talked to you, witch-boy!“ he says, his big hand getting in my way, preventing me from walking any further. I try to dodge, to get away from him, but what a fool I would be to believe that they'd let me go just like that. They never do. „When someone talks to you, you should answer, you know? Or is that different in Gothic-Town where you come from?“

„I don't think Sweden is so much different from England, actually,“ I reply with a fake-polite smile, not sure why I even replied to that nonsense at all. I shouldn't have done that, I really shouldn't.

„Ooh, the little witch can talk!“, the boy exclaims exaggeratedly, laughing with his friends, making me wonder how anyone can seriously be like this – a real person, I mean. There are kid's shows that are made to teach children what's right and what's wrong, and those shows have that kind of bullies in them, those malicious, sadistic guys with their stupid grinning faces whose only purpose in life is to make others miserable, to make it harder for the good kids to get through their lives, through their school days. But in those shows, they're just characters. Antagonists. Those evil bullies nobody likes. They don't have a soul, they don't have a real personality apart from being evil. They're just there so the good ones get some difficulties that make the show interesting.

So how can that kind of person exist in real life and still be a human being, a creature that's supposed to be intelligent and have feelings such as empathy? How can there be so many human beings who act as if they were nothing but empty shells, solely designed to be evil? I will never understand this.

„I'm not different from you all!“ one of the guy's friends now says in an obviously mocking way, making fun of me and my accent. „I'm just a freak looking like a living skeleton and my hobby is sacrificing goats to Satan – but apart from that I'm completely normal!“

Their laughter is getting louder, they really seem to find that funny. I guess it's no use telling them that I've never hurt a single goat in my life and don't plan to do so in the future.

„But wait!“ another guy says with wide eyes, his hand grabbing my shoulder tightly. „I bet the little witch has another favourite hobby, in fact.“

„You mean getting fucked in the ass?“

A confirming gesture and a wink.

„Yeah... I bet the witch is also a bitch.“

I want to roll my eyes but I try to suppress that urge. I should just get away from here as soon as possible.

„Would you please let me go now? I'll buy you all some nice ice cream, you can have your fun tattling about me, and we're good, huh?“

I smile at them, already knowing that I'm trying in vain and that I'm making an even bigger fool of myself right now. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest when I hear them laugh once again, loudly and enthusiastically. But it does surprise me a little when I suddenly feel a fist in my stomach.

„You think tattling is the real fun, eh?“

The boy is laughing again (all the time, he never stops laughing), and before I can run away and leave this goddamn place behind or do anything to defend myself, I'm lying on the ground, just barely able to at least cover my face with my hands as they all start kicking me, beating the shit out of me – like always when they wait for me after school. Sometimes they only try to be funny, sometimes they only push me to the ground and then walk away. Some days they want to teach me a special lesson, and today is such a day, it seems. Maybe I'm imagining things but I feel like each lesson is a little more brutal than the previous one. And each time, it's driving me closer to–

My eyes suddenly open, my pulse feels concerning. There's the ceiling, I'm staring at the ceiling, my bedroom, I'm lying in my bed. And for a brief moment, when I feel that other presence close to me, my body convulses – until I realize who it is, until I remember everything that has happened.

„Morning,“ Alex says, looking at me with that certain expression I know too well. Seeing that look in his eyes, the vulnerability, the humiliation he's still feeling from the day before... I almost can't take it. But I can't be weak now, I just can't. Because he needs me.

„Morning,“ I say as well, give him a soft smile and place my hand carefully on his face. „Your eye-lashes have gotten a bit out of place.“

He smiles back at me, just slightly, as I try to fix it for him, and I notice how my hand is shaking. No, not only my hand. My whole damn body.

„Is it time to get up?“ Alex asks, oblivious of my current state (that dream, that fucking nightmare, please, just go away), and after a while, he adds: „Do you need to go somewhere? You said you're... a psychology student, right?“

Unfortunately, that makes me even more tense – being reminded of the thing I should be, would like to be. But fail to be in reality.

„It's alright. I don't need to leave the house today,“ I just respond. „But you? You would usually go to school, wouldn't you? I mean, I'm not saying I'd expect you to do that! You should... just rest.“

He nods, looks at me with that heart-wrenching look in his eyes and keeps yawning every now and then.

„I'm so exhausted,“ he then says with a deep sigh, clutching at the blanket which makes me wonder if he's cold. We've both kept our clothes on over night and I must admit, I can't wait to toss that blanket away, personally, but if Alex needs to be kept warm, I will certainly make sure he is. „Thank you for making last night so much less horrible,“ Alex mumbles after a moment, making my heart bleed even more.

„I'm glad I could help you,“ I reply with a faint smile. I don't feel like that really sums up what I actually want to say though. So I lean closer to him, put my arm around him softly and try to think of something better to say, something more... meaningful. And what I then tell him is: „I will protect you, Alex.“ As cheesy as it might be, it's what I feel, what I want to do, even if I don't know how. And he's apparently wondering about that, too.

„How will you protect me?“ he asks softly, a sheepish, little smile on his face, his eyes looking tired. „Are you going to follow me everywhere to guard me now?“

I would do that, I almost say in response but I don't. That would sound really fucked up, so I just say: „You got a point there. I can't do that, I fear.“ I stroke his cheek very slightly (I won't leave him alone ever again) and add: „But I can be there for you. I can give you a place to come to. And if you want me to, I'll... stand beside you next time you're facing those guys.“

Alex keeps returning my gaze, leans into my hand and sighs.

„That'd be nice,“ he says. He doesn't know how much the thought of that actually scares me. The thought of seeing those people again, the thought of being near them, witnessing what they're capable of. Being so close to the endless cruelty that only a human mind can come up with. The thought of that makes me sick.

Suddenly, I remember the cut on Alex's back and something inside me gets alarmed.

„Shit,“ I mumble, pushing his shirt (or rather my own shirt I have given him) a bit upwards and leaning over him to take a look at his injury. He looks confused but then seems to understand what I'm looking at. „That cut is quite deep... I should've bandaged you yesterday but I was... too overwhelmed to think of that, I guess. Sorry. I could still do that though.“

„Hm...“ Alex looks away from me in a way that makes me think he's afraid. Not afraid of being bandaged necessarily – more of having someone this close to him while he's so vulnerable, I guess. And I can understand that very well. „I wouldn't mind if you did that,“ he finally says, still not looking at me. „And thank you for dressing me last night, by the way,“ he then says with a feeble voice.

„No need to thank me. Really.“ My mind drifts off a bit as the clothes are mentioned, I see everything so clearly before my eyes again. Alex lying in the dirt, half-stripped down, the bloody cut on his back, completely humiliated. Goddamn. My body tenses when I think about that other gang and how they've treated him. „I'll get you a bandage,“ I say quickly before I lose myself in those terrible thoughts, get up from the bed and turn towards the door when I hear Alex muttering something to himself.

„That Billyboy,“ he says, almost not more than a hiss while his eyes are full of anger all of a sudden. Anger and pure hatred. „That bastard needs to be shot to death.“

I hesitate. Should I ignore that and just get him the bandage? No matter if I should, I can't. And so I sit down next to him once more.

„They really... shouldn't have done that.“ After that, it is silent between us for a long moment, both of us staring into that nothingness again, and after some time, I can't help but smile in an embarassingly sad and helpless way. „Is it... a normal thing for you gangs to do that stuff? Rape and humiliate others? I... I don't want that to happen to you ever again.“

Alex seems to think about that but only for an instant.

„Yes, it's normal. Sometimes we have those... encounters between gangs where we fight and look who's in charge. It's a dominance-thing, y'know? Billyboy's gang and me, we've hated each other for some time now, we always come up with new stuff to show each other who's boss. Only this time... they've taken it a bit too far.“ There's this glint of absolute, sheer hatred and loathing in his eyes again but he smiles. A smile of bloodlust. „They have to die for that,“ he whispers and it sends a chill down my spine. I wonder how Alex really feels about himself. After all, he and his 'droogs' do that same kind of things to others – and not only to other gang-members but also to innocent women. Is that an act of dominance for him as well? Or pure egoistic lust? Or is it actually some kind of... overcompensation? I seriously wonder what this all really is for him. And if he might change his mind about doing those things to others now that he's become a victim himself.

„You know,“ I say quietly. „Even if you've done that sort of things to others yourself... Even if you've been involved in plenty of violent acts and have terrorized so many people – I can't help but feel bad for you. I... don't think that you deserved this. It feels wrong.“ For some reason, it makes me feel way too vulnerable to say those things to him. „I don't think you're so evil and bad, Alex. You're not a purely violent person,“ I add, whispering, my hand grazing his cheek lightly.

Alex looks back at me with a little bit of guilt in his eyes (or maybe I'm just imagining things again), nods slightly and hesitates before he responds to that.

„Sometimes I wonder myself… Am I a purely violent person?“

„I think... the fact that you're even wondering about that speaks for itself.“ I flinch a little when suddenly there's a weight on the mattress that wasn't there before. „Oh...“ Looking straight at Caleb's face, I have to laugh a little as he gives me a soft „Meow“. „Hey, what's up? Say 'Good morning' to Alex...!“

The cat leans over to Alex, sniffing at him (I wonder how many times he needs to sniff at him before he can finally memorise his scent) and giving him a quiet „Meow“ as well, observing him with big eyes, as if he's hoping he's already feeling better since yesterday. Alex doesn't say anything but smiles at him and starts to pet him a moment later before he seems to become more serious and absorbed in his thoughts again.

„Yes, you might be right,“ he says, probably replying to what I've said before Caleb interrupted us, still running his hand through Caleb's fur slowly, making him purr. I could get used to the sight of them both together. „But that doesn't mean I'm not capable of violence and enjoying it. I do enjoy it and I don't think I will ever stop enjoying it.“

„I know that. You definitely are capable of violence and probably even have a very sadistic side that likes to hurt others. But I don't believe that's all you are,“ I respond, smiling more when I see Caleb lying down next to Alex, obviously feeling very comfortable. „How could you be so soft with Caleb if you were nothing but violent, hm? How could you be so soft with me?“

Alex's expression becomes even more absent-minded. He looks to the side.

„It's... complicated,“ he then says. „I wish I could explain it well.“ And another moment later he says, shrugging slightly: „I guess I just let out my anger in... weird ways.“

He says that as if he himself didn't really find it so weird what he does – and why should he? It seems to be quite the normal thing nowadays for teenagers to be in those violent gangs. His 'friends' do the same things, and so do lots of other guys his age. He doesn't see how completely insane it is – but he knows what I think about it all. And that makes him feel bad.

„Do you know... where that anger comes from?“ I ask, now petting Caleb along with him. „And since when is it there?“

Alex seems to sink deeper into his thoughts as he tries to come up with an answer to that.

„Since I was little,“ he then says, still with that same attitude. It's quite normal, isn't it? There's nothing wrong with me, maybe it's the others who are wrong.

„So, you're just... angry at the world, right?“ A little bitter chuckle comes over my lips involuntarily. „I can understand that in some way. How could anyone with a functioning brain not be angry at all that crap...“ I look into his eyes again. „And still – we can't fight the system with nothing but violence. We can't... use violence against innocent people. That won't change anything. You know that, don't you?“

Alex nods slightly but keeps quiet. Some seconds later I hear a soft „Yes“ from him which is actually more than I've expected. Does he really understand that it's wrong what he does, or does he only pretend to agree to make me shut up about it? Maybe it's naive of me to believe that he will change because of me. But I hope he will at least... see things a bit differently now.

„I'll take care of your wound now,“ I say and get up from the bed. „Just stay like that.“

He nods again and waits for me as I told him to while I search for the first aid kit in the bathroom. Once I've found it, I grab a bandage and go back to him, my head full of various thoughts. I must keep this under control, I think to myself. He needs my help now, more than anything.

„Alright. Lift your shirt a little, okay?“

Again, Alex does as he's told, pulling the shirt upwards and turning his back to me with a shameful expression that intensifies those feelings inside me even more. The cut is really deep, I should've bandaged him earlier. At least I was clever enough to clean it already yesterday while he was asleep. I bend forward, take a closer look at his back and feel hatred welling up in my chest when I see the still somewhat visible message that other guy wrote there. 'I'm your slut, o my brothers'. How degrading. I've tried to wash the letters off, too, but didn't want to rub Alex's skin too harshly while he's been sleeping, so they're still there, unfortunately.

Slowly, I start putting the bandage around Alex's waist and back, as carefully as I can, but I still see him gritting his teeth.

„Is this okay?“ I ask, pausing for a moment. „Tell me if it hurts, please.“

„I'm fine. Keep going,“ he says, hissing. Idiot.

„You sure?“ I ask, half worried half amused because Alex apparently tries really hard not to show any signs of pain even though it seems to hurt a lot. Poor guy. „You don't have to play the strong man now, you know?“ I say with a soft smile.

„Do you think I can't deal with a malenky scratch?“ he responds, almost defiantly. „I've had–“ Another hiss. „I've had worse than this...!“

„You're not a very good actor.“ I sigh and pause my work with the bandage for a moment. „Do you really think I would make fun of you or think any less of you if you admit that you're in pain? Feeling pain doesn't make you weak or anything.“ I stroke Alex's cheek lovingly. „Trust me... okay?“

At that, he smiles a little bit. I'd almost say, he seems touched by what I said.

„Alright. You got me. It actually hurts a lot,” he finally admits, and I wince a bit when I see tears welling up in his eyes. „Really… really bad,“ he then adds. And suddenly, he seems to be overcome with emotions he can't control anymore. He's crying, looking away from me, his body trembling slightly.

„Shit,“ I mumble, inhaling sharply. „It's that bad?“ Carefully – very carefully – I press Alex against my chest, stroke his neck. Try to soothe him. „Just... try to relax a little,“ I tell him, even though I know I couldn't relax in his situation either. He's clutching at me, so tightly I can't suppress a hiss myself now.

„It hurts,“ he says again, his voice breaking, and I begin to understand that he's not only referring to the physical pain of the scratch. It's his pride that's hurt. His psyche.

„It's okay. I'm here,“ I whisper to him, stroking Alex's neck softly while simultaneously wrapping him up, as carefully as I can. I almost fail at even holding the bandage though, almost let it slip out of my hand because my hands are shaky as fuck. There's a feeling inside my chest that's taking my breath away, choking me, almost making me nauseous. And I know what that feeling is, I know it very well. „Alex... I...“

I try to speak but nothing comes out of my mouth. It's too late to back down now though. Alex looks at me in anticipation.

„What is it?“ he asks softly, his voice still weak from the tears. I finish bandaging him and take a deep breath.

„I...“ I stare at the mattress underneath us both, trying to figure out how to say this. „I told you, I'm... not quick with saying things like this but... I guess I can't deny it. I'm feeling so much right now, I don't even know how to handle it.“ I smile shakily and then raise my gaze to look into his eyes again. He looks back at me, giving me all his attention, and it sends another shiver down my spine. „I just want to say,“ I start anew after a while, „I... I think I love you.“

Alex's eyes widen, and I can't believe I actually said those words to him – after not even two complete days. But I can't help it, I'm not in control anymore. It's all too intense, the urge to protect him, to keep him safe, hold him tight, it makes me crazy.

„I love you,“ I repeat, only a whisper, and I say it more to myself than anything else, as if to reassure myself that it's alright to say that at this moment and to this person. I don't really need to be reassured of it though, I realize. It feels alright. It feels more than alright to have him in my arms and let him know about my feelings for him.

„You... don't mean that,“ he just says, a faint smile on his face that looks as if he didn't believe me or as if I'd gone crazy. In a matter of some seconds though, he seems to understand that I do in fact mean it, and a tear runs down his cheek. „Oh crap,“ he then blubbers out and clings to my shoulder, obviously overwhelmed and not able to hold back his emotions anymore. No surprise. I bet that's every single emotion he's suppressed in his whole life, and now it's all overflowing.

I kiss his cheek slightly and close my eyes. Time seems to stand still. It's just me holding him right now, him and me and this utterly strange connection between us that probably shouldn't be.

„I love you, too,“ he whispers after a long moment of silence, and it makes me shudder. Hearing that from a person like him – what have I done to make him feel like this about me? How did it all even start in the first place? I really have no good explanation for this. But I can't help but smile at him in a way that probably shows all my unfiltered affection for him.

„Shall I... make breakfast?“ I ask with a quiet voice, too scared to destroy the atmosphere if I speak louder than this. „You can eat it here in bed, if you want.“

„Yes,“ Alex responds, letting out some kind of laughter that sounds so genuinely happy, it automatically makes my smile widen. „Yes, I would love that...!“

„I really brought out the soft side in you, didn't I?“ I giggle like a smitten idiot. And the next thing that comes out of my mouth is just a long, very awkward „Uhmmmm“ before I manage to speak another proper sentence. „What... should we call ourselves now?“ Another little pause. „Am I... your boyfriend?“

Alex blushes but grins at me which is probably the same stupid, hormone-driven expression I have on my face myself.

„Maybe? Something like that?“ His grin becomes more teasing now. „Bet some would rather call you my 'Daddy' though...“

That almost makes me choke.

„You're... right. I've forgotten how young you are for a moment.“ Holy shit. I shouldn't forget about that, even if it really doesn't feel like he's 13 fucking years younger than me. I clear my throat. „Whatever... I'll make us some breakfast then, okay? Oh, by the way – we could also eat it on the couch in the living room while, uh... playing videogames, if you want. I'm kind of a nerd. Just so you know.“

„I've already seen that starry black box in your living room and thought it fits you just well,“ he says, still smirking, and the way he's trying to come across as just amused and playful while there are still those traces of dried tears on his face makes me want to keep him here with me forever, never again letting him go. „I'd like to try playing a videogame,“ he then giggles, suddenly looking and sounding like an innocent child again, curious to explore something new. „I've never had the chance to do that, I'm probably really bad.“

„Well, let's see. Probably not as good as me, at least,“ I respond, a bit playful now as well, take a breath and get up from the bed, followed by Alex – my new boyfriend-or-whatever. Oh Lord.

My eyes staring dead ahead, I walk to the kitchen and prepare the coffee while Alex gets ready to start the day in the bathroom. And while I stand there, making breakfast without really paying much attention to what I'm even doing, I'm becoming more and more aware of what's happening. This boy is becoming a part of my life. He's not just a casual acquaintance, not just an exciting affair or something like that. He's someone I... love. Someone I love and who apparently loves me back, as strange and frightening as it may sound.

When was the last time I said „I love you“ to someone? I know when it was. But I've tried not to think about it for a long time, I've tried to forget it. Tried to forget that the desire to love someone is still existent inside me, still real and not just something that happens in books and movies. Usually, I'm not someone to take much care of others and finding pleasure in that. I have enough to do with my own stuff. With Alex, it's different. Seeing him smile – and I don't mean that cheeky, twisted smile I've seen on his face several times but a genuine and happy smile... God, seeing that kind of smile on him and knowing I'm the one who caused it is everything I need.

For a moment, I just stand there, close my eyes and try to get my head clear somehow. When I look back at the counter, I realize that I've made a sandwich for myself that consists of two slices of bread put together with nothing in between. Yeah. Dry bread. Yum.

„Alrighty, I'm ready for the mindblowing new experience!“ Alex exclaims loudly and enthusiastically when he comes out of the bathroom. I look at him apologetically.

„Yeah, uh... You can take a seat on the couch if you want,“ I say, looking back at the counter. At least his breakfast looks right. „Okay,“ I say before putting the plate with Alex's sandwich and his glass of milk on the coffee-table in the living room. I give him a sheepish smile. „I'll be back in a few minutes. You don't have to wait for me with eating.“

He sighs dramatically.

„Well, hurry up then,“ he tells me with a small but in some way really sweet grin. „I want your pretty Skandinavian plott next to mine as quickly as possible.“

I have no clue what he means with 'plott' but that makes me grin back at him with an embarassing blush.

„Sure,“ I just say, hesitate for a second and then go to the bathroom myself, trying not to feel like a stupid teenager in the middle of puberty constantly.

Back in the living room (and after I've added some cheese and tomatoes to my sandwich), I sit there with Alex beside me who has actually waited for me because he „couldn't enjoy his meal properly without me“ which is, in such a simple way, one of the cutest things another person has ever said to me. After I've turned the TV and the game on, he leans forward on the couch, chewing on his bacon-eggiwex-sandwich.

„So,“ he says, still chewing. „What are you playing?“

I need a moment to think about how to explain it to someone who's not even really familiar with videogames.

„It's some kind of... adventure with pirates and stuff. You walk around, collect things and fight, and there are funny dialogues. It's called 'Ape Island'.“ I turn to Alex when the menu-screen appears on the TV. „Wanna try?“

„Oh, gladly!“ He already grabs the control stick and views it from all sides. „What do I have to do?“

I chuckle and gesture towards the button.

„With this thing you can use your knife and stab. You can also use it to confirm stuff during dialogues or pick something up from the ground. And with the stick here, you just move around. Alright?“

„Right, right, Sir!“ he responds, again with great enthusiasm, before he gives me another twisted grin. „I like the part with the stabbing, I must admit. But regarding the stick, there's another one I prefer a lot over this one here, eh, Phil?“

And that's enough to make my face heat up again. Damn it.

„Yeah, uhmm... We can play with... other sticks later, if you want. Try to focus now, hm? There! There's an enemy, you have to watch out!“

„Uh, crap...!“

Alex laughs as he tries to manoeuvre the character around without getting hit by some not very creepy looking pixel-monsters. And it fills me with pure joy to watch him like this. He looks so happy. He almost forgets to eat his breakfast because he's so absorbed in the game, and now and then he turns his face to me and gives me a smile – a loving, sweet smile that's only for me.

The moment gets interrupted though when I suddenly hear the doorbell ring. Alex winces slightly and stares into the direction of the hall where the noise came from, as if he expected an enemy around the corner. As if he was the character in the game, ready to draw his knife.

„I have no clue who that could be,“ I say truthfully and get up, sighing. On the way to the door though, I have a premonition. What if it's his parents? The thought makes me a bit uneasy – for various reasons – but when I open the door and look down (I live in a raised ground floor), it's not two adult people I see. It's a teenager, and I've seen his face before – last night.

„Hello, Sir,“ the guy says. Very politely, I think to myself. His clothes are different from those I've seen him in last night as well, he looks like a completely normal and nice young man. „I'm sorry to bother you,“ he says. „I've just wondered where my friend might be – Alex, you know? And since you've... helped him yesterday, I thought, maybe he's here?“

„Pete?“ I hear Alex's voice before I can respond to the guy myself, and the next moment, they're standing here face to face. I'm still baffled by how polite and well-spoken this Pete is after I've seen this same guy in a brutal gang-fight just some hours ago. But on the other hand, Alex is in this gang and very well-spoken, too. „What are you doing here, brother? Looking for me because you had to get by without your little droogie in skolliwoll today?“

Pete looks at him with some kind of smirk that looks half-amused and half-concerned.

„Well, yes. You weren't there and I was a bit worried. Nobody knew anything.“ He gives me a quick glance and looks back to Alex. „I thought you might be here, with your new... friend. Just wanted to make sure you're okay after what happened yesterday.“

Of course some people must've been worried about him. He wasn't home the whole night long and wasn't in school or with his 'droogs' either. He was with me, not much more than a stranger.

„Oh yes, I'm perfectly fine,“ Alex replies, his tone of voice just a tiny bit too exaggerated to be genuine. „How are the others? Georgie-boy? Good ol' Dim? I bet they're boo-hoo-hoo-ing their glazzies out over my missing presence?“

„Not really,“ Pete says dryly. For an instant, he looks as if he wants to say a bit more. But he doesn't. There's an awkward silence for a while until he finally decides to break it. „It's not like you've missed anything important. Mrs Evans is still trying to get further with probability theory but half of the class is too dumb for some reason. And Mr Martin made us do weird gymnastic exercises again.“

„I've always told you, he likes torturing us. He enjoys a bit of ultraviolence, believe me,“ Alex grins but I can't really concentrate on what he's saying. The things his friend has said have caught my attention – or more precisely, the names of the teachers. Mrs Evans and Mr Martin? In my teens, I've had two teachers with the same last names as well, and I've also had them in maths and sports. That can't be a coincidence... can it?

„Everyone enjoys at least a bit of ultraviolence,“ Pete says with a slightly absent look in his eyes. „Everyone does under the right circumstances.“ He pauses for a while, gazes into space as if he was deep in thought about the meaning of life or something, then he turns back to Alex and me with a strange little smile. „Whatever. I'll go home now. Hope I'll see you back in school tomorrow, brother.“

Alex just nods, his expression now changed as well.

„Yes. I think I'll be back tomorrow.“ He eyes Pete, his smile from earlier almost gone, and with another little nod, he adds: „See you.“

The next second, the door is shut and we're left alone again. There's something about the look in Alex's eyes that feels like a stab in my heart but I couldn't put into words what it is. And there's also another thought in my head – no, not only a thought. Something... unsettling. Something in the darkest corners of my mind, like a shadow that's trying to crawl to the surface. Memories.

„You okay?“

Alex looks at me, apparently worried himself now. I don't know what it is but I have such a strange feeling, and it's not pleasant at all. Yet I nod in response.

„Yes. And you?“

„Yeah. I'm alright.“ It's a lie. I'm sure of that. He says he's alright while his face tells me that he definitely isn't. „I... uh...“ He stares at the wall, his eyes wide and his mind so obviously somewhere else. He looks... helpless. Then he smiles at me but it's not the happy, genuine kind of smile he's given me only moments before, while we were playing. „I think... I should go home as well, maybe. Shouldn't let my Pe and Em wait for forever, eh?“

„Probably not,“ I mumble, trying not to show the immense insecurity I'm feeling. I'm not really better than him with all my supressed emotions.

„So... I guess that means I have to say goodbye.“

Yeah. And for some reason, it feels like it's not only for now but forever. Alex looks to the ground. The sight of that makes the ache in my chest even worse.

„I... will miss you,“ he says, now looking up at me - and he hugs me in a way that completely wrecks me inside.

„I'll miss you, too,“ is all I can respond, barely even audible. I've lost my voice, it seems. But my arms still obey me at least, so I put them around him tightly and press him against myself. Not letting go for a moment that feels like an eternity and at the same time way too short. When I look at his face the next time, he seems to struggle internally.

„Goodbye,“ he says. Goodbye. Nothing more. And another moment later, I see him putting on his shoes and walking through the same door his friend has closed behind himself not even five minutes ago, just like that. Maybe that's it. Maybe he needs to follow him, back into his daily life he's used to, back to his droogs and back to everything he knows. Maybe he just couldn't stay here for any longer.

I keep standing there, staring at the closed door for I-don't-know-how-long, not blinking or moving an inch. At some point, it's apparently gotten too tiring for me but I can't remember that exact point. I just notice that I must've gone away after a while because I'm not standing there anymore, I'm lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling instead of the door, my head full and empty at the same time. And between all those thoughts and the stupid heartbroken feelings, there's that one strange feeling again when I remember what the guy in the door frame has said some minutes or hours ago.

Mrs Evans and Mr Martin. The Maths- and the Sport-teacher. They must be in their 60s now, I think to myself. I can still picture them before my eyes. I don't even mind thinking about them, they weren't that bad actually. But with the thought about my teachers comes the thought of my old school, and with the thought of my old school comes the image of my classmates. And not only the nice ones.

„Ooh, the little witch can talk!“ it echoes in my head, over and over. „I bet the witch is also a bitch. Ooh, the witch can talk. Let's beat the bitch up, it will be so much fun. Let's see how much the Swedish freak can take!“

I can see them all before my eyes, I can feel it all so clearly. And then I see him, lying here beside me where there's nothing but an empty space now. I see him glancing at me with that shy smile and with that defeated look in his eyes, with that look that tells me that he's not a purely evil and violent soul if he would open his heart to other possibilities. And the thought of all that makes me feel everything at once, everything I haven't felt for years, everything that's been overshadowed by numbness for so long. It's all there, washing over me like a tsunami. And I can't do anything but lying there, clawing at the sheets and sobbing like a child – until I fall asleep.

Chapter Text

The govoreeting about analysis and interpretation coming from the front of the room keeps ringing in my sensitive ears but I'm not really listening, my brothers, no. The book we're currently reading in our o so lovely English-class isn't even so uninteresting – it's 'Animal Farm' by good ol' George Orwell. But my mind is not present. I can't tell where exactly it is though. Only thing I know is it's far away.

Four or five days have passed since the incident with Billyboy's gang, a not very restful weekend in between, and you might understand, I avoid thinking about it as good as I can. Only sometimes I can't avoid it and it all comes back to me, and in those moments, I'm furious and have that strong urge to kick someone's litso real horrorshow. Then I remember that a certain someone told me how bad it is to kick peoples' litsos and to behave the way I do in general, and I remember the lovey-dovey things I said to that someone, and it makes me even more furious. It's not right, brothers, it's not the way your droog Alex works.

„Hey,“ I sloosh someone's voice behind me, and what a surprise, it's the voice of Georgie. „Hey, hey.“ He keeps hey-ing at me. I turn around to him.

„What is it?“ I hiss, keeping quiet so that the old lady won't hear.

„You really think we could go on as always, as if nothing happened, don't you?“

„I have absolutely not the slightest clue what you're talking about, Georgie.“

„Don't play dumb.“ He narrows his glazzies as if he was looking at something very suspicious. „That whole thing with that... Phil-guy,“ he says. „What's your deal with him, Alex? Why does he care so much about you, huh?“

„What kind of question is that, hm? Is it so strange to you that someone cares about me?“

„C'mon, droogie, don't make a fool out of yourself. The way he looks at you and everything, it's not like a normal veck would look at another malchick. So, tell me...“ He smirks. „Are you queer, perhaps?“

I stare at him blankly. Then I burst into laughter.

„Watch your filthy mouth, my droog, watch your mouth,“ I tell him, even though it's not a surprise to hear him say that after all the jokes he already made about this before. But this time he seems more serious and that's what doesn't sit right with me.

„Mr. DeLarge,“ the old lady's starry goloss interrupts my guffaw. „May I ask what's so funny?“

„Oh, nothing, Miss,“ I respond politely, with a big smile. „George here was calling me a queer, that's all. I was having a good laugh.“

She looks from me to him and back to me as if she had no understanding of what's going on.

„Well, please keep your... dirty activities private, queer or not, unless it contributes in any way to this lesson!“

Dirty activities. I try to keep the smirk to myself.

„Aye-aye, Miss!“ I respond enthusiastically. I turn to Georgie once more and see him shaking his gloopy gulliver. Then I sloosh a little of what the old lady has to say about hypocritical pigs and mindless sheep. And then I zone out again and continue gazing out the window.

„Why do we read that boring book?“ Dim exclaims as we stroll across the schoolyard. „Not even devotchkas in that story, not a single one!“

„There are. You don't like horse-devotchkas, Dim?“ Pete replies, getting a blank look from Dim in response who then lets out a whiny, loud noise.

„There's nothing interesting about it. Who would write gloopy cal like that?“

„Careful,“ I say. „Don't insult our good droog Orwell, will you? You just don't understand the book because you're a sheep.“

„What's that supposed to mean?!“ he shoots back. I ignore him and grin.

„You still haven't answered my question, Alex,“ Georgie says with a tone of voice I don't like at all. „Don't you think you owe us a proper explanation? We're curious, y'know?“

„Listen, Georgie. I don't owe you anything, alright?“ I make a step towards him. „Nothing. The old lady has put it so nicely, hasn't she? I shall keep my dirty activities private. And that's what it is – private. Right, right?“

Georgie seems amused.

„So you admit that you've had 'dirty activities' with that veck, huh?“

„I do not admit anything, no, brother,“ I respond, trying to keep calm and not punch every single zoobie out of his litso. „You want to know if I'm queer, Georgie? Do I look queer to you? Do you think I would fantasize about malchicks during the ol' in-out-in-out, hm? I tell you something.“ I make another step towards him. Smiling. „When I have a devotchka, I think about nothing but her pretty little groodies and her sweet little cunt. But perhaps you are the one who has something else in mind?“

His mouth twitches. He's getting real razdraz, I can see that. Before he can say anything else though, I hear another voice speaking to me, and that voice immediately makes me cringe inside.

„Good day, little Alex,“ he says as he passes me by with a wink – Leo, that bastard. „Bet you already missed me.“

„Missed you?“ I repeat. He can't even say anything else before I've grabbed his collar and pulled out my britva to hold it against his throat. „Oh, yes, I did, I did. I've imagined to stand before you like this every single hour, so I could break every bone in your ugly plott and crush it until you're nothing but a disgusting puddle of krovvy and guttiwuts.“ I press the blade closer to his skin, my pulse quickening with adrenaline. „Oh yes,“ I whisper. „The thought alone makes me feel so good. Makes me all hot, y'know? Maybe I'll jerk off on your remains once I'm done with you. Maybe I'll also cut off your tiny yarbles before I do anything else. Sounds good, eh?“

„Oooh,“ he blurts out as if he's lost his last few brain cells. „Are we a bit aggressive, hm? Didn't your Mama tell you that it's bad to bring a knife to school?“

„Oh, at least I have a mother. I bet yours immediately threw you away as soon as she caught a sight of your nauseating excuse of a face.“

He giggles at that which makes me even more razdraz, and I toss him to the ground, left boot hovering over his gloopy grinning litso. Until I'm held back by one of my droogies – Pete.

„Not here,“ he says, so calm and quiet that it makes me cringe inside. „Don't want us to get caught, right?“

„Right...“ I let my noga linger there for a little while longer, so bloody ready to crush this veck's whole plott as ultraviolently as possible. Then I take a step back from him. „You should be lucky,“ I hiss, looking over my shoulder to viddy if there's any teacher on patrol. But no one's there. „Let's go, brothers, shall we?“

Quickly, Dim and Georgie are by my side as well, giving each other a short glance before Georgie replies with a brief „Sure“. Looks like he gave up on this bezoomny „Are you queer?“-shit. At least for now. Quietly, I can hear Leo's voice in the background, muttering something, maybe to himself, maybe addressed to me. But I don't give a single fuck about whatever the hell he is muttering, and we go our merry way, first to the Korova, then on a hunt for some nice little devotchkas. And then homewards.

At home, my brothers, there's a bittersweet surprise awaiting me though, and I'm not quite sure if it's a good kind of surprise or not. And I'll tell you what it is.

As soon as I open the door and enter the hall, my Em (without my Pe, he's not home yet) comes to greet her flesh and blood after the hard school-day – which is already kind of unusual. Normally, I see her sitting in the living room or standing in the kitchen, but not today. Today, she looks at me with a litso I can't quite read, talking to me with her squeaky-weaky mother's goloss.

„Aaaalex,“ she says half-solemnly, half-pitifully, giving me a strange look. „I... We've... I've heard that you have... some trouble at school and that you often seem to be... a bit absent,“ she says. „It might come a little bit unexpected for you... But we're worried about your grades and– Well! You have a private tutor now.“

Unexpected indeed.

„A what? Would you please repeat that, dear Mother? I think I couldn't quite follow.“

„I know, I know, you're overwhelmed! I'm terribly sorry,“ she continues, glazzies full of drama. „But, you see, it's only for the best. You will like him, he's such a nice young man, he really is!“

A veck, I think to myself, sighing internally. Not even a devotchka. Would've made her cliché-motherly-„It's all for your own good“-govoreeting a little bit easier to endure.

„And how many times a week will I see him? Which days?“ I ask, and in response to that, she smiles so widely that it seems her red painted lips are occupying her whole face.

„You can ask him all that yourself, dear, he's sitting in the living room!“

„He's–“ I pause and then smile, pointedly joyous. I'm just not sure for how long I can pretend to be happy if that veck should be annoying me too much. Oh, I can't guarantee for nothing. „Well!“ I exclaim. „Let's see what this lad has to say then, right?“

But as I step into the living room and see the 'veck' sitting there, right on the sofa, my poor heart just stops. No. No, that can't be. That really can't be. I'm dreaming, yes, that must be it, or maybe I'm in a coma and my gulliver is making up real strange scenarios now, inspired by some soap operas I've seen my Em watch on the gloopy globovision. Yes. That would make sense, in a way.

„Hello... Alex,“ he says, and apparently, it's not only his face that looks like Phil's, his voice also sounds like him. Bloody hell. „I've heard you're... kind of a troubled kid and don't get on very well in school lately. I'm here to help you.“ He gets up from the couch and comes closer. I swear, my heart is beating loud enough for the neighbours to hear. „Nice to meet you,“ he just says, real formally and slimy, holds out his rook to me and smiles. I stare at his rook, then at his litso, and the first thing coming to my mind is that soft goddamn voice of his saying „I love you“. The second thing coming to my mind is his cock. And his tongue. That's both been inside my arse.

„Yeah, nice to meet you, too,“ I respond after a moment before I slap his hand away in such a sassy-girl-ish manner that it makes me hate myself immediately. „Screw you...!“

And before I can see what his or my dear, kind-hearted mother's reaction to that looks like, I've left the living room as quickly as humanly possible, enter my own holy realm and shut the door with a loud THUD, not forgetting to lock it. And as soon as I know that nobody will notice, my stupid eyes fill with tears, my whole body fills with rage, and in addition to that, I have a gloopy, motherfucking erection. Dear Bog. If I'm nothing but a pathetic mess, why am I even still walking this bloody Earth?

From the wall, I see the divine glazzies of Ludwig Van watching me, how I'm crouching there in front of the door, and I know that he's judging me. I can't even let his music flood my realm as I usually do when I engage in a bit of self-loving – because I don't love myself at this moment, even if I'm touching my body, and doing this encompanied by the sweet, god-like sounds of my beloved Ludwig Van, in this situation, with those wrong and wrong and WRONG thoughts occupying my gulliver... that would be a sin. So I do it in silence, the whiny goloss of my mother and that of the other person audible in the background, the person whose name I'm not gonna mention anymore, and I've never felt so terrible while masturbating.

„I... I'm so sorry, I don't know why he did that, really...“ The elderly woman standing before me – Alex's mother, apparently – is clearly trying to think of any explanation for her son's behavior, anything that would make sense to her, but obviously, nothing comes to her mind. And her expression, her tone of voice, her posture... everything about her tells me that it's only one of many times she's already tried to find an explanation for everything, so often that she's internally given up on really getting an answer. „He probably didn't mean it. He's... difficult sometimes, you know?“

„Yes. I understand that, it's no problem,“ I respond, pretending I don't know that 'difficult sometimes' is actually a great understatement. „Maybe he's seen me at school before, I'm sometimes there to talk to the teachers or meet with other students whom I give private lessons. And, who knows, maybe there are strange rumours or he's heard me talk to anyone and got something wrong. It's probably nothing we can't solve.“

In fact, I'm, of course, not giving anyone from that school private lessons – apart from Alex, if he wants me to. But the thing is, I didn't hear anything from him for five days. Not a single word. And maybe some people would call me a stalker for doing that but I was worried sick and couldn't stand it anymore, so I've paid a visit to his school which has coincidentally also been my school about ten years ago. I didn't get to talk to him in person but I got to talk to one of his teachers, a short middle-aged woman, whom I told I was an acquaintance of his and wanted to know how he's doing and that I'm 'a little' worried because he's been struggling with some 'things' lately. The teacher told me about him, about how he comes to school or stays at home depending on his mood and how he often just gazes into space and seems really bored when he's there. That he usually gets pretty good grades even though he doesn't do much for school (if he even does anything at all) and that he seems to be really intelligent but showing a lack of interest in most topics – whereas his participation in certain other topics seems to be outstanding, especially when it comes to old literature and big personalities from the past they mainly learn about during history-lessons. Just now, during the last few days, his teacher said, he seemed to be very absentminded, more than usual, and couldn't answer questions when called on in class. And then she asked me how well I'd be getting along with him and if he would listen to me. And, well... The rest is probably self-explanatory.

„Maybe,“ Alex's mother begins to say after a moment of silence, „maybe... you could try to talk to him? Later, not now. He's in his room, so he doesn't want to be bothered, I fear.“

„Uhmm...“ I can't help but chuckle slightly. „Yeah, I guess most teenagers don't want to be bothered very often during the day, especially when they're angry at something or someone. But sometimes it's better to try to talk, even if they don't seem to be open for that at first – don't you think?“

She looks at me as if I suggested something completely impossible and gives me a confused little smile. She looks really frail and... exhausted.

„You don't know him,“ she responds, and I instantly wonder if I don't actually know him better than she does. But maybe she's right. Maybe I'm the one who has no clue about how he really is. „I never bother him and go in there unless he explicitly told me I'm allowed to. Like I said, he's... difficult. And we just... respect his privacy, you know?“

I sigh quietly. Yes. I shouldn't assume that I know him really well after just some hours I've spent with him. But something tells me that I do know parts of him his parents or teachers or 'friends' never get to see. Maybe it's just what I wish for though. I'm still pretty sure it's not right to let a teenager behave however he feels like without a chance to at least talk about it.

„Respecting one's privacy is a good thing for sure. Everyone needs privacy, no matter the age. But... you know, sometimes people actually want to talk, even if they don't show it or say they don't want to. It can be complicated sometimes, especially with kids like... him.“

Again, she gives me that look – a look that says „You don't understand. You can't treat him like a normal person, he has his own standards, you have to handle him carefully“. Instead she says: „Come, young man. Let's sit together for a while, okay? Can I offer you some tea?“

I smile back at her with really mixed feelings and accept the offer.

Silence prevails while we're sitting at the kitchen table, me facing Alex's mother, the anxious, frail woman with the juvenile purple hair that doesn't quite seem to fit the rest of her. After what seems like an eternity of just sitting there, taking little sips of our tea cups and exchanging insecure glances with each other, she finally breaks the awkward silence.

„I haven't... openly talked about my son with anyone for a long time,“ she admits with a quiet voice. She probably doesn't want Alex to hear her but I'm sure we're far enough from his room that he won't. „He... I honestly don't know what's going on with him. I don't have the slightest clue. His Dad and I, we only have... vague presumptions. About things he might do when he's not home... at night...“ Her gaze drifts away before she looks back at me with wide open eyes. „But he doesn't talk to us, you know? It's like he's... in his own world that we don't have any access to.“

I nod, trying to imagine what his communication with his parents must look like.

„Have you tried to ask him why he doesn't let you... be a part of his world?“ A part of his world, I think to myself. I wouldn't let my parents be a part of that either if my world consisted of alcohol, drugs, violence and rape. But on the other hand... I know that's not everything going on inside his head. There's more. Those things are just what he shares with his 'droogs' but on his own... „Have you ever really tried to have a... deep conversation with him, if I may ask? To ask him how he feels? I know that it isn't easy and that he probably won't be open and honest with you immediately, don't get me wrong. But sometimes... a long, honest talk can help a lot. Even if he doesn't tell you anything about 'his world' – I'm sure he'll at least appreciate it if you try, and maybe, at some point, he will open up to you.“

For an instant, she looks as if she reflexively wants to respond by telling me once again that other teenagers' standards don't apply to her son. But she doesn't. Her gaze is fixated on her cup of tea.

„Maybe... you're right,“ she says a moment later, reflective, as it seems. „We probably should try to talk to him. But, like you said – it's not easy, really not easy. I think we've... given up on him years ago, to be honest. It all seemed so hopeless; everything we did was in vain, you see?“ There's a pause, another moment of silence. „He's... always been difficult. But it got worse with time, especially with... puberty, you know?“ she then says, the word 'puberty' pronounced as if it was something taboo. „He's been in a corrective school at the age of eleven. He's become so alarmingly cold. I know that he sometimes tries to be a good child. But there's always a certain... threat in his eyes. We can't get through to him anymore, we just can't. I'm...“ Another pause. Then she whispers: „I'm scared of him.“

That last sentence sends a cold shiver down my spine. Scared of him, of her own son. The thought that this scary person is someone I've been very close to is frightening in some way. But I try not to let it show. His mother should never know that I've been so close to her son. To her, we should be nothing but strangers.

„I definitely understand all that,“ is all I say in response for a while. I take a sip of the tea, an attempt to calm my nerves. „May I ask... why he's been in a corrective school?“ I then add cautiously. „What has he done?“

„The question should be 'What hasn't he done?'“ she replies with that sad smile that seems to be the only way of smiling she knows. „I think... it started quite harmlessly. He didn't obey the teachers anymore, was a bit of a rebel maybe. Then he got into fights with other children, and soon it happened every week that people complained about him. Because of... various things.“ She looks away, apparently ashamed. „But it wasn't only him, you know? It seemed... it's just become a trend or something like that. And he also seems to have... well, kind of peculiar friends, if I may say so...“

I almost laugh at that – luckily, I can prevent that just in time.

„Yes. The people someone regularly spends time with can play a big role in that person's... well, development,“ I say, trying not to sound sarcastical in any way. „Do you think his friends are part of the reason he's become the way he is now?“

„I really don't know,“ Alex's mother responds, gives me a hesitant shrug and looks at me with eyes full of helplessness. „I feel like I don't know anything about him really. As I said, he doesn't talk to us, and when he does, I think he's being overly nice on purpose. Oh Jesus... I don't know what to do with him...“

And now, all of a sudden, she's hiding her face in her hands, her posture and her voice so pathetic it's almost a little absurd. Not that she wouldn't have a reason to be upset. But the way she acts... There's something really weird about it. The vibe she gives me now is that of a person you would see in a loony bin. Or rather a parody of it.

„It's alright, Mrs. DeLarge. I'll try my best to take care of him,“ I say, considering if I should pat her shoulder or something to soothe her a bit, but the thought of leaning over the table to touch her is too strange for me, so I just sit there stiffly and stare at her with an awkward smile that probably looks pretty stupid. „I can't promise you anything. But I will talk to him, and if he lets me, I'll help him get along in school again. I've heard that he's really smart. He definitely has the potential, he probably just needs... a little support.“

„Support,“ she mumbles to herself while gazing at the table before she looks up to me again with a bit of new-born hope, as it seems. And there's also something else in her eyes. „Thank you so much, Mr.- Sorry, what was your name again?“

„Gravarg.“

„Mr. Gravarg, yes.“ She suddenly beams at me as if I was the Messiah, her eyes frighteningly wide. „You are... such a sweet, sweet young man. So intelligent, so... sensitive. I'm so lucky to have met you.“ She leans closer, and with a quieter, softer voice, she adds: „What a beautiful person you are.“

I freeze. The smile is still etched on my face though.

„Thank you,“ I say and clear my throat. As if to make it all even more uncomfortable. „I, uhm... I could try to talk to your son now. If you're okay with that?“

„Oh, but don't you want to drink some more tea? I'm sure he still doesn't want to be bothered. He's probably asleep, resting his mind from all the stress...“

„I've had enough tea, thank you. And there's no harm in trying.“ I'm even starting to think that it's easier for me to deal with Alex than with his mother. „I'll just see if he's awake. And if he is, please give us some minutes, okay?“

She nods, her face still bright with something I can only describe as 'euphoric gratitude'. Or something else I don't want to think about any further.

„Alright, Mr. Gravarg. I will wait here. Good luck, lots of luck to you...!“

I force myself to give her one last smile before I leave the kitchen and search for Alex's room. And as soon as I'm out of her earshot, I let out a deep sigh.

Chapter Text

It takes me a moment until I feel brave enough to knock on the door I assume belongs to Alex's room – not because I'm afraid of him. But I'm afraid of my feelings for him.

I knock twice, neither very quiet nor very loud. If he's not sleeping, he should've heard it. But he doesn't react.

„Alex?“ I say after a moment of waiting, cursing myself for how insecure I sound. „Can we... talk? Please, let me in.“

I don't even know if the door is locked but I don't want to try to open it without his consent. Another moment passes. Then I hear footsteps from inside there before the door opens (it was indeed locked).

„What is it?“ he asks, looking at me from the threshold. „Want to tell me something about maths, Mr. Teacher? Or maybe about biology, eh?“

„Uhm...“ That makes me laugh a little, even though I don't really feel like laughing. „No. I mean, yes – if you're willing to, I'd give you private lessons. That wasn't just a prank of mine, if that's what you thought.“ I smile at him and hope it looks as genuine as it's meant to be. „But first... I'd just like to have a talk with you. Nothing you should worry about. Just, well... just talking.“

To think I'm usually good with words. In social situations, it all seems to vanish somehow.

„Just talking, huh?“ Alex's eyes pierce through my soul, his lips twitching into a crooked smirk that makes me shudder. „I don't want to see you, Phil,“ he then says, lowering his voice, probably because he doesn't want his mother to hear him calling me by my first name. „My life's back to normal. Y'know, strolling around with the droogs, doing our thing. Your company was pleasant as long as it lasted – but that's it. Goodbye, Phil.“

„To be honest, I've already expected you to say something like that to me. I knew you wouldn't want to see me again as soon as you've left my apartment last time you were there. But do you remember what you said? You said you will miss me. Also...“ Now it's me who smirks at him. „You've forgotten your clothes in my apartment and walked out with my clothes on. So, a reunion was inevitable, unfortunately.“

Alex rolls his eyes in a really exaggerated manner – but I've seen a vague hint of emotion in them at the mention of him having said that he'd miss me.

„Would you please let me in now?“ I ask once again, quietly. „You don't want your Mom to hear us talking like that, do you?“

„You are the one who doesn't want that, aren't you?“ he retorts, apparently amused. At least that's how he wants to appear, as it seems. I bite my lip slightly.

„I bet you wouldn't like your parents to find out about this either,“ I whisper in response. For a little while longer, he keeps staring at me with that piercing gaze. There's something menacing about it and I can somehow understand that his mother is scared of him. And yet, I know what's hiding underneath that mask he's constantly wearing, I know the human being behind the walls he's built around himself. And I can't unsee it, no matter how threatening he tries to appear. Alex sighs dramatically.

„Come in,“ he finally says, turns his back on me and walks into his room, sitting down on the bed. I follow him inside, and the first thing that catches my attention is a large Beethoven-poster, and then, creating an absurd contrast to that, another large poster with a drawing of a laughing naked woman spreading her legs.

„Wow,“ I say, standing in the middle of the room, noticing more fascinating details with each passing second. „Interesting... decoration.“

„Right?“ He watches me from his bed, his typical cheeky expression on his face now. „I've always had a rather special taste compared to others. Most people don't have the slightest clue of art.“

„I see, yeah.“ Not that I would disagree with that. Most people really have a strange idea of what art is, and Alex's idea of it is still more appealing to me than that of many others. My gaze drifts around some more. „I thought you had a pet snake? Didn't you mention something like that?“

„Oh, I have!“ Alex stands up from the bed and opens a drawer of his desk. My eyes follow his movements and my mouth falls open kinda comically when I see him pulling the snake out of there and hanging it around his neck. „This is Basil. You have to be nice to him, alright?“

„You... know that the natural habitat of a snake is not a drawer, don't you? You need a terrarium.“

Now the look he gives me is sort of comical as well – a look of pure confusion, quickly replaced with a chuckle to hide his insecurity.

„What do you know, huh? He enjoys the darkness. Also, I let him slither around in my room just as often, I even let him sleep in my bed.“

The defensiveness in his voice as he says that while he pets Basil's long scaly body is a little bit cute.

„Okay, okay,“ I say, laughing a little. I can't help it. Curiously, I take a closer look at the snake. „Can I... touch him?“

Alex's eyes look from Basil to me, his gaze locked with mine for a moment, and it feels way too intense for such a short moment of just looking at each other. It's as if he's trying to find out if he can still trust me and if I'll treat his snake well by looking into my eyes.

„Alright,“ he then says, a bit reluctantly, as it seems. „He won't bite you or anything. Just... be careful, not too harsh.“

„Of course.“ Hesitantly, I reach out and touch Basil's scales – very softly and carefully. Basil seems to ignore me completely. Other than Alex. He tenses and looks to the ground, and when I realize how close I am to him and that I'm not far from stroking over his neck that Basil is still hanging around, my body automatically tenses as well and I take my hand away slowly, overcome by a sudden awkwardness. „Uh...“ Another completely stupid sounding chuckle comes out of my mouth. „He feels... nice. Beautiful animal. I just think he's not that much interested in me...“

„Yeah, that's just his personality. He's a bit of a loner,“ Alex responds with something reminiscent of a smile. Then he goes back to his bed and sits down with Basil still on him – after standing there and staring at me in silence for at least ten seconds, I might add. Another moment passes before he beckons me over, a bit to my surprise. „What are you waiting for?“ he asks. „Thought you wanted to govoreet a little about this and that. I'm all ears.“

Relieved, I walk over to his bed as well, sit down (cautious to keep a certain distance) and put my hands together in my lap.

„I'm...“ I take a deep breath, not sure what I actually want to say. „I know this is all messed up, Alex. I knew from the start that... this relationship between us didn't really have a future. We're both fucked up on our own already, so how are we supposed to function together? Let alone the fact that you're only 15 and I'm 13 years older than you...“ He looks at the wall with a blank face but I see the corner of his mouth twitch very slightly. I can't keep looking at him for any longer though and my gaze drops to my hands. „If my presence makes you uncomfortable... I'm genuinely sorry. But I still want to let you know that the time I've spent with you means a lot to me, even if it was short. And when I told you that I... that I love you... I really meant it.“ Keep calm, I tell myself again and again. Breathe, just breathe. „So,“ I try to continue and raise my eyes to him again, my damn voice trembling slightly, „even if you want this to be over between us – I know what you've gone through. I know what happened, I've witnessed it myself, and I... I guess I just feel kind of responsible for you now. The thought that you can't concentrate on your school-stuff anymore and that you suffer in silence, with no one to talk to – I can't endure the thought of that. And I want to... I just want to help you.“ I swallow slightly. „Please...“

It feels like an eternity until I get some kind of a reaction from him – he catches a breath, not much different from myself, his eyes still focused on something invisible, and he makes a little noise that sounds like something between choking and laughing.

„I hate you,“ he says with a faint voice. „Everything was fine before I knew you, and now nothing is. What am I supposed to do? I don't want all this, I don't–“ He interrupts himself to suppress a sob, his arms around his knees, his face turned away. „I just want to die,“ he then says, barely audible. But I hear it, and it breaks my heart.

„No... No, don't say that.“ Please, don't. „You... have every right to feel the way you do. But it will get better.“ Will it? „It won't... feel like this forever. What you need is... someone to talk to, to feel safe with, someone you can be open with... whether that someone will be me or not. But you...“ I pause, a feeling of dread spreading inside my chest. „You're way too young to think about dying.“

His hands clench around his knees, clutching at his trousers, and a silent tear runs down his cheek. I want to be there for him (I would do anything for him right now) but I'm frozen in place, the thought that maybe I could make him feel even worse tearing me apart.

„Yes,“ he says, „I'm a young, handsome malchik, ain't I? What a waste that would be, eh? But would it?“ Now he laughs, a sad kind of laughing while more tears run down his face. „Who would even really miss me? My droogs? Bet they'd be happy to have more devotchkas for themselves. My Pe and my Em? Oh, they'd be relieved in fact, wouldn't they? So, who's left, who would miss my presence, huh? Maybe the vecks who'd be sad about not getting another chance to perform the ol' in-out on me, that's who...!“

„That's not true, and you know that,“ I instantly respond, some dark and ugly kind of anger building up inside me. „Those guys who did that to you – they're assholes! But you know that I don't see you like that, right? You know that, don't you? And your parents... Maybe they're exhausted and stressed out. But that doesn't mean they would be happy if you were dead. I've talked to your mother, she... she's worried about you. If you harm yourself in any way... Believe me, she would blame herself for that, she would be extremely sad if she'd lose you. She just... doesn't know how to talk to you but she wants to try. She doesn't want you to feel miserable.“ I smile shakily. „And what about Basil, hm? Who would take care of him? Wouldn't he be lonely if you wouldn't sleep beside him anymore?“

Apparently, that's the final straw for him; he can't suppress anything anymore. It all breaks out of him and he hides his face, his forehead pressed against his knees, as his whole body gets shaken with the sobs. And me? I'm still sitting there, paralyzed, and do nothing. Until I can't take it anymore.

„Would it... be uncomfortable for you if I... hugged you?“ I ask, very hesitant and anxious. Anxious to do anything wrong.

„No,“ he whispers after another moment that's felt way too long. „Please,“ he adds, shivering, „please, hug me.“

I don't need to be told that twice. The way he's almost begging me to hug him – it kills me. It kills me how love-starved he obviously is. Just as love-starved as me.

„You... have to put Basil down then, I fear. I don't want to squash him...“

Alex looks up at me, a heart-wrenching little smile on his face.

„You wouldn't,“ he says but removes him from his shoulders anyway, carefully placing him down on the bed before he moves closer to me. And very slowly, he leans his head against my shoulder, closing his eyes and taking a shuddering breath. I close my arms around him, not tight, very softly.

„It's okay,“ I say quietly. „Everything's fine.“

Nothing is fine, I think. And still I say that, as if the problems would just magically vanish when someone tells them to. Alex takes another breath, his hand clutching at my shirt. He looks like he wants to say something but it takes him a while until he actually does.

„I... I don't hate you. I didn't mean it...“ I feel his fingers digging into my chest, he's completely tense. „I'm... sorry,“ he whispers. „I don't know how to– I just... hate everything!“

„Everything?“ I repeat with a little chuckle. „Then you do hate me. 'Everything' includes me as well, doesn't it?“

„Well...“ Alex gazes into space again, apparently thinking about how to put his thoughts into words more accurately. „I wouldn't say that I... hate you as a person, Phil,“ he then responds with a bitter smile. „It's more... what you do to me. I hate that you make me so... incredibly weak. That everyone suddenly wants to piss me off really badly, only because I...“ He frowns, seems to be searching for the right words once again and then shrugs. „Only because I... like you.“

In its simplicity, that statement carries such a weight that it makes me speechless for a moment.

„Yes. Sometimes who or what we like is enough for others to make... strange assumptions. People always need something to judge. Even if they don't know a thing.“ Now it's me with the bitter smile. „I don't even want to tell you that you should give a fuck about their opinions. I'm not a saint either, and I'm... not blind to the fact that we just can't be together like a normal couple. At least not for the next few years, I guess. And even then, it would still be controversial.“ I see Alex biting his lip slightly, his gaze fixed on the door or wall. „But if the main-reason they judge you or make fun of you is that you like a guy – that's bullshit. Whether you like guys or girls or maybe both doesn't change anything about you as a person. You're still you. And if anyone tells you you're weak just because you're not an emotionless machine... well, don't listen to them. I bet even that 'Billyboy' and his stupid gang-members have feelings. They're just really good at hiding them and don't have the balls to admit that the things they do don't make them 'strong' in any way. More the opposite.“

The second I mention Billyboy, Alex tenses again, his face flashing with anger.

„I don't care if he or his droogs have any feelings,“ he snarls. „I don't even care if I would end up in jail. All I want is to make them suffer in the worst way possible and then kill them. Let them die a slow, painful death.“

The way he says that gives me goosebumps. I know that feeling too well. I've felt the same way back in my school days, back when I was the victim who couldn't defend himself, far from the dominant figure that Alex has gotten to see in me. And usually... Usually he's one of them, he's just like the wicked souls who have tormented me every day in school. He's not better than them, maybe he's even worse. But now he knows what it's like to be on the other end. Didn't I tell him something very similar during our first night together – the night before all this happened?

Yes, I think to myself. I've told him. I've said that everyone gets to experience the role of both a master and a servant at least once in their life. Teacher or student. Bully or victim. What do they say? Everything comes back to you at some point. Maybe it's the two sides of a coin. Maybe it's karma. I'm wondering if something like fate really exists and if that's the reason I am confronted with my past after years of burying all those things somewhere deep inside my mind. Why I'm reliving it all, just from a different angle. But maybe it's just what life is about – seeing cruelty from all perspectives, in all shapes and colours.

„Speaking of... that incident,“ I say hesitantly, afraid of triggering him again. „There's something I've been wondering about. Your friend... Georgie. I've told you he came to my apartment, right?“ Alex looks at me attentively, apparently interested in what I have to say. „I don't... want to say anything wrong,“ I add quickly. „Maybe there's a simple explanation for it but... his choice of words has puzzled me a bit. He said that you're 'probably in danger' and that he 'probably knows where you are' and that I should come with him. And that there's not enough time to explain it any further. Do you have any clue what he could've meant by that? I mean... how can he even have known anything? Billyboy's gang has kidnapped you, and you obviously didn't know that was going to happen and that they would take you to that place. So why did your friend have such a... premonition? And your other two friends who have been there – how did they know?“

Alex's eyes narrow. It's obvious that this thought hasn't even crossed his mind before but makes him suspicious now.

„That's a very good question, Phil. How did they know, I wonder?“ He seems to ponder, an absent look on his face, accompanied by a humorless smirk. „I think I'll have a talk with me droogies tomorrow,“ he then says, and I get a feeling that he's going to slaughter half of his school mates if I don't try to make him calm down in any way.

„Yeah, but maybe try to... talk to them with words first, alright? If you find out that there's really something wrong – you can still use your fists,“ I suggest with an insecure little chuckle.

„I like your way of thinking,“ he grins, and for a while, he's just sitting there and petting his snake before he looks back into my eyes, in an intense way I don't really know how to interpret. „Did you miss me?“ he then asks with a low voice that makes my pulse quicken immediately. „Did you think of me a lot? Did you... maybe jerk off while thinking about me, alone in your bed?“

Of course I haven't forgotten about the cheeky and teasing way Alex can talk. But that question catches me off-guard.

„I... I don't know if we should–“

„Talk like that right now?“ he finishes the sentence for me, letting out a little laugh. „Why not? I just want to know.“ He leans closer to my face, I can feel his breath on my skin. „I tell you something. I've jerked off not long before I've let you in here. Because seeing you in our living room, hearing your voice... oh, you have no idea what it awoke in me the second I saw and heard you. And I hate myself for it but it is how it is. You showed me parts of myself I didn't even know existed, and I'm not sure I want them to exist. But what can I do, they're there. And those parts of me are... craving you. Craving the firm grip of your hands.“ He strokes over my chest and lets his hand linger on my thigh, leaning even closer and whispering into my ear: „Craving your hard cock taking me in every possible way.“

I shudder so heavily (even more from his words than his physical touch) that it must almost look like a flinch. God. My body responds instantly, I can't do anything about it. But this isn't right. Not here and now.

„Alex,“ I say quietly, not much more than a whisper either, and I chuckle involuntarily. „You, uh... You really have a way with words, I can't deny that. Jesus. But do you really think this is the right moment for... this?“

„Why shouldn't it be? There's no such thing as a wrong moment for sex,“ he responds to me with a glint in his eyes that is a little bit frightening – it looks almost insane – as he lowers himself so that his face is mere inches above my crotch, fumbling with my pants which makes me inhale sharply. „You want it, don't you?“ he asks with a grin. „Don't lie to me, Phil. You're already getting hard, I can feel it.“

„I don't– Yes, it... feels good and all...“ I take a deep breath, trying to get my thoughts into order. That boy is a mindfuck on two legs. „But just because it feels good physically... that doesn't mean I really want it right now, you know? Because there are wrong moments for sex. For example when we're trying to have a serious conversation here. And as long as there's a possibility that your mother could come in or even just walk past your door, I won't do anything remotely sexual with you anyway.“

„My Mum doesn't need to be a hindrance,“ Alex says with a shrug. „Let me just put on a bit of Ludwig Van and she won't hear a thing. And let me tell you a secret – there's no better sound to accompany the act of lust than those beautiful, sweet symphonies telling stories of passion and power.“

My expression must look quite comedic once again. He really is a mindfuck, there's no better word for it.

„It's... not only that,“ I manage to reply eventually. „Even if we were alone and in my apartment – I just can't really think of sex right now. You have to heal. You're still recovering from some really traumatizing kind of sexual assault...! How could I think of fucking you right now?“

„Really? That's what you think of me?“ he retorts, pushing himself up and backing away from me a bit. „You think I need to be handled carefully now, eh? That I would 'heal' by living in sexual abstinence all of a sudden, like some innocent little virgin devotchka waiting for the day of her svadba? Well, Phil, you're wrong. I need it like I need air and food. And because of you, Phil, all the devotchkas I can have so easily aren't enough anymore. You are at fault, nobody but you.“ The look in his eyes gets even more insane, and I feel a strange wave of both heat and cold rushing through my body, a shocked gasp escaping me, as he suddenly yanks my pants and my underwear down forcefully. „Fuck me,“ he says with something resembling a smile – a very, very twisted one. „Do it, come on. Pin me to the bed or to the ground, I don't care, show me the power you have over me. Rip my clothes off and fuck me to shreds.“

I'm frozen – again. Apparently, this family has a talent for making me lose my ability to move. Only when I see Alex reach between my legs, a reflex kicks in and I push him away. It's obvious that he hasn't expected that, he loses his balance. But luckily, he manages to catch himself in time before he falls off the bed.

„Ooh,“ he then says as if he's gone totally mad. „Yes. Just like that. Getting used to the concept of ultraviolence, I see?“

„Sorry to disappoint you but no. No ultraviolence, no 'fucking you to shreds', goddamn.“ I try to collect my thoughts. „Are you... completely out of your mind? Before we do anything else, I guess you should try to calm down a bit. And... next time we meet, maybe you are able to think straight again. If you even want to meet me again under the circumstance that we won't have sex.“

„So you're just gonna leave now? I thought you wanted to be my private teacher and all?“

„Yes. That's the reason I came here. But apparently, you have other ideas that are not compatible with mine at the moment.“ I get to my feet, put my pants back on and walk to the door. „If you've changed your mind in any way – you have my number, don't you?“

He only responds by giving me an icy stare that's probably supposed to look angry. I'm pretty sure though that I can see a hint of his suppressed emotions behind it. He's hurt. And it takes all my willpower to not apologize to him and take him into my arms again. He certainly wouldn't let me hug him now anyway.

„Bye,“ is the last thing I say for now, quietly and with suppressed emotions as well, before I leave him alone and return to my apartment.

Chapter Text

Eleven years ago

The hallway was empty, everyone was on their way home, and the only sound I heard was my own breathing, a hitching, pained sound that spoke volumes about the role I've played from the beginning in this theatre that was my school – the role of the victim, the weak kid that got bullied and beaten regularly, and was then, after the beating, left alone to rot. Such as this day. The silence would've been kind of comforting if I didn't have to hear my own heavy breathing, I thought to myself. And as if to take that last bit of comfort from me, there suddenly was a noise tearing through the silence. The noise of a door opening and closing, followed by footsteps coming down the stairs. A teacher? The caretaker? Whoever it was, the thought of someone walking by and seeing me lie on the floor like this made it all even worse.

I tried to stay completely still – because, sure, playing dead will be the solution! – but my body tensed automatically when I heard the footsteps coming nearer. Please, whoever you are, just keep walking, I thought. Of course that wasn't the case.

„What's wrong with you?“ I heard the person – a guy – ask in a tone of voice that sounded more curious than concerned. He'd stopped walking. He was staring at me, I could feel his eyes on me.

„What does it look like?“ I replied without looking up, still facing the floor, hiding behind my long hair. „I'm taking a nap. Comfy down here.“

The guy chuckled. But it wasn't anything like the mean and sadistic kind of chuckling I knew from the boys who loved to torment me.

„Sleeping on the floor with blood on your sleeve, huh?“ I didn't respond to that and there was a moment of silence that made me wonder if the guy had only been some hallucination of mine and there hadn't been anybody in fact. Until he continued to talk to me. „Fascinating how you're lying there, obviously in pain and in need of help, and still haven't lost your humour.“ The next moment, I heard him doing something – kneeling down in front of me, as it seemed –, and I forced myself to raise my head at least a little and look at him. He had wavy black hair and a tight black shirt on, matching my own style that consisted of mostly black. But the first thing I noticed was that he had the kindest eyes I had ever seen. „C'mon, I'll help you,“ he said, held his hand out to me and waited. And I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. My whole body was shaking and I probably looked like shit.

„Thank you,“ I mumbled, looking to the side, trying to think of something else to say. But nothing came to my mind, it was completely blank.

„No problem, man,“ he just shrugged it off. „I only saw you 'cause I had a conversation with one of my teachers and didn't go home right away after classes.“ He looked at me, a bit puzzled. „What happened to you, mate? Someone beat you up?“

„That wasn't hard to guess, was it?“ I chuckled as well (it sounded strained and pathetic) and looked to the side. „Wasn't the first time, actually.“

„Was it one of those 'gangs'? Thinking of themselves as invincible and all?“

„Uh... Well, yeah.“

I cleared my throat, feeling awkward. I didn't really want to tell a stranger that those guys, that little 'gang', had their fun with me almost daily. I had no clue what to tell him (or not to tell him) in general but for some reason, he seemed like someone I could trust.

„You okay?“ the guy asked, a bit awkward himself now. „I mean... apart from the bruises and all?“

That made me laugh again. He was right – it was really nice that I hadn't lost my humour, even in a situation like this.

„To be honest... I was considering how much I should tell you but then thought that you seem like... a pretty cool guy who doesn't judge or make fun of others and stuff. And then I thought that it's probably stupid to think something like that because I don't know you and should just stick to being skeptical. But, well... Always being skeptical and never trusting anyone gets... exhausting after a while. So fuck it.“ I turned to face him and let out another weird little chuckle. „Geez. What am I even saying? Why am I talking so much at all??“

He grinned at me, in a way that made me feel strangely at ease.

„Maybe you just like me? Sympathy at first sight?“ Once again, he held out his hand to me – this time for a handshake. „I'm Gary, by the way.“

„I'm Phil,“ I said and took his hand, smiling. „That, uhm... probably sounds pretty English but I'm actually from Sweden.“

„Oh? I was already wondering if you're Skandinavian. That's cool!“

„Yeah... My accent, right?“

„I don't know. Maybe your look, too?“ He chuckled again. It was kind of... cute. „I hear a slight accent when you speak but really not that much.“

„Are you sure? You can be honest with me. Others have told me several times that I have a thick accent.“

„Really? Bullshit. Is it your bullies who tell you that? They only say that to make you feel bad, man. Your accent is totally fine.“

„Hmmm.“ I grumbled quietly in response but then had to laugh a bit. „I sometimes have that problem with the 'th'. It comes out as just a 't'.“

He shrugged.

„I know British people who struggle with some sounds as well. And actually... I think it suits you. There's a certain charme to it.“

„A certain charme?“ I felt flattered, nobody had ever said anything like that to me. And it also felt a bit like he was flirting with me. But that couldn't be, I thought. Everyone apart from me was straight. „I, uhm... I'm glad you've... stopped by. I'd love to talk to you for a bit longer but I have to go home.“

„You want to go home like this? Won't your parents ask you what happened?“

„They're out. Until they come back, I'll have time to change my clothes and use my Mom's concealer to look normal.“

He made an impressed face.

„Not bad. But if your parents aren't home anyway, why don't you come with me? Hang out for a lil' while longer?“

I stared at him, overwhelmed.

„Uh... I guess I could do that,“ I just said, probably with a weird, blank expression that didn't show in any way how genuinely happy I was about his suggestion. But he still seemed to understand it and smiled widely.

„Cool, man,“ he said and nudged my shoulder. „Then let's go, alright?“

I gave him a nod and followed him. And a strange thought came to my mind that moment – the thought that this guy must be what religious people imagined when they talked about angels. And that if I believed in those things, I'd be sure he had come straight from heaven to slowly guide me out of hell.

Chapter Text

Again, I'm sitting in skolliwoll, my brothers, another day of the week and another seven hours of gloopy lessons talking about meaningless things. Probability theory is still boring. I understand, of course, how it works, it's not hard and I'm not dumb. But my thoughts, brothers, are elsewhere and I couldn't even put into slovos where they are. They are everywhere and nowhere, it seems, and even if I'm not actively thinking anything, there's always something I feel. And what I feel is a nasty mixture of hatred, rage, emptiness and self-pity, all of those things taking turns, and sometimes it's all of that at once. And maybe, hidden somewhere behind the hatred, rage, emptiness and self-pity, there's also something like... guilt. But I'm not sure about that.

The maths classes go by slowly, very slowly, and I almost don't even realize that the break has already begun. Just when the teacher's voice reaches my ookos and I see all the others ittying out of the room, it dawns on me.

„Alex?“ she says to me. „Can I talk to you for a moment?“

My droogs (or let's say, we'll see if I still want to call them my 'droogs') look over to me curiously and I give them a cold glance.

„Out!“ I bark at them, and with a shrug, they leave the room as well. The ol' lady (Mrs. Evans that is but also every other female teacher I have) is already waiting for me at the front-desk.

„So,“ she says and then pauses for hours. „How can I put this? I've noticed you're not... concentrating well lately. And not in the way it usually is with students who are easily distracted or don't feel like learning.“ Another pause. „Is... everything okay with you? Did anything happen?“

For that bold question, she gets a cold glance from me as well, even though I'm smiling politely.

„What do you mean? I'm fine, Mrs. Evans, nothing to worry about,“ I respond. It's a warning. A warning for her not to dig deeper.

„Nothing to worry? I'm not so sure about that.“ She looks right into my eyes as if she's trying to look into my soul. „Look, I'm not going to give you a lecture now. That's not what I want. But your... behaviour is quite concerning, Alex,“ she says with that motherly goloss. She's one of the teachers who call us by our first names. Some others treat us more like adults. I don't even know which I prefer and I guess I don't care – but this way she says „Alex“ the same way my Em does makes me a bit razdraz.

„And what's concerning about it?“ I reply. „That I'm looking out the window during classes? That you don't see me smile all the time?“

„No, it's–“ Her eyes dart to the side and then back to me. She sighs. „Let me ask you something else. I've heard you're going to have a private tutor?“

My heart stops for an instant.

„What? Who told you that?“

„Us teachers, we sometimes talk to each other. And this morning, I've heard that another teacher of yours has had a talk with a young man, an acquaintance of yours apparently, and that this man is going to give you private lessons.“ She raises an eyebrow. „Was that supposed to be a secret? Or why are you so shocked that I know about it?“

„No, no. Not a secret, Mrs. Evans, not a secret.“

„Alright. And... did you already talk to him about it? To that young man?“

My mouth twitches a bit.

„Yes, Mrs. Evans. Had a jolly good talk with him, yes. Nice young lad. I mean, I already knew that before. We're acquaintances, like you said!“

I smeck at the suspicious look she gives me. Even though I'm not really that amused.

„A jolly good talk, huh? Well...“ She lets out another deep sigh. „Listen to him, alright? I hope he'll be able to help you. And now... out with you.“

„Thank you, Mrs. Evans! Have a nice day, Ma'am!“

„Thank you. Likewise,“ she says in a way as if she actually wants to say „I hate my job“, and I go out of the room with really mixed feelings to spend the remaining minutes on the schoolyard. But the sight of my droogs in the hallway catches my attention.

„Hey, hey there! You seem to have waited for me?“

„Why wouldn't we wait for our good droogie?“ Georgie asks back, turning to me with that kind of smirk again that I really don't like seeing on him. „What did you talk about? Did she say something about a... private tutor? I couldn't help but overhear.“

Dim giggles, his dim glazzies darting from me to the others and back.

„Yeah, really thin walls, eh, brothers? And you talked really loud, you did!“ he exclaims as if he wants the entirety of students of this school to hear him as well. My eyes narrow. I'm pretty sure neither the ol' lady nor me have been as loud as my 'good droogs' are saying we were. They've eavesdropped on me.

„And why do you think that is funny in any way, eh? I get the feeling you're trying to pick on me lately and I wonder why that is.“

„Pick on you?“ Georgie repeats. „Oh no, you got that all wrong. We're just interested in your life, as good droogs should be, right? You don't tell us anything by yourself anymore, that's what's worrying us.“

Dim keeps giggling like real bezoomny, probably not even understanding what Georgie's talking about, and I really have to hold myself back not to give him a tolchok in his litso.

„You don't talk to us a lot, Alex, that's true,“ Pete says, calmer than the other two, as always. I'm calm as well. But only on the outside.

„Alright, brothers. Then what's there to talk about? What do you wish to know about your droog?“ I smile, looking from one to another. „And speaking of being more open with each other – I'd like to know something as well because there's a circumstance that confuses me deeply.“

„Do tell, my brother,“ Georgie says. „What's confusing you?“

My whole plott tenses but I try not to show it.

„That night,“ I say, „with that little... gang-fight. You all knew exactly where to find me. How? Why didn't you just assume I was at home? Or is it maybe that you've just decided to pay a visit to those gloopjeks' meeting place completely coincidentally, for some fun?“

„Georgie told us,“ Pete replies after a moment. „Dim and I had no clue. Georgie came to us and said there might be something going on. In that place.“

„Oh? And how did you know, Georgie, my good droog? You weren't even with us at the Korova that day. After you've left us, that is, without telling us a proper reason. And then suddenly you showed up with my– With...“

„With what?“ Georgie interrupts me, leaning closer to me with an even stranger kind of smirk and lowers his voice. „With your boyfriend?“

The tension gets harder to ignore by the second.

„Watch your mouth,“ I snarl, internally struggling to come up with a good response to that. „He's not my boyfriend,“ I say, trying way too hard not to get nervous. „He's... my uncle, alright?“

Silence.

„What?!“ All three of them in unision.

„You never told us anything about an uncle of yours.“ Pete.

„Right. And the way he took care of you also looked a bit too... tender for an uncle.“ Georgie. „Maybe someone should call the millicents. Your uncle might love you a little too much.“

They all burst out into some real grazhny guffaw, or in Pete's case, start grinning, as if this was some sort of entertainment programme and not my private life they're talking about. I can hardly prevent myself from giving each one of them a horrorshow tolchok, my patience wearing very thin. Instead I just fix my eyes on Georgie with a gesture to follow me.

„How about we have a one-on-one over there, Georgie-boy? Sometimes droogs should have a good discussion to clear up certain things, right? Avoid misunderstandings, you know.“

He glares at me darkly and then smiles with that same dark glare.

„Right, right.“ He turns to the others. „You can go out. We'll join you later.“ Turning back to me, he adds: „Or maybe not.“ And there's something so intense in his eyes that it makes a shiver crawl down my spine. But gladly, I'm always good at hiding such things.

„Great,“ I just say, briefly waving at the others who go towards the exit with another shrug before we, Georgie and I, head into the opposite direction. At some point, quite random, we both stop.

„So... What's this about? Bringing me here to talk to me alone?“ Georgie stretches a bit and gives me another one of those creepy glares. „Are you finally going to confess everything to me?“

„Oh, come on, Georgie. Again? You're repeating yourself, brother.“

„Maybe I am. But you know why? Because you don't give me an answer.“ He cackles. „That uncle-story – do you think I'd believe that? You've already given yourself away with that stupid explanation. You didn't really think we'd be dumb enough to buy that, did you?“

Yes, I did, I think to myself. But if you and Pete are smart enough to be suspicious, at least poor ol' Dim won't be, I think.

„You know, Georgie... What if I tell you that you're right? Like, yes, okay! He's my boyfriend, I'm a faggot. But what if I just tell you that so that you shut up? Maybe I'm lying and it's something completely different. Maybe he's an old acquaintance of mine that I just don't wanna talk about. Maybe he's a fucking vampire who has changed me into one, too, and we're now addicted to each other's blood. Who fucking cares? It's not your business. Why the bloody hell is it so important to you?!“

Georgie stands there, and suddenly, there's something else in his eyes, something I'm not sure was there before or not.

„You want to know why it's important to me?“ he asks and he sounds so... bitter. „You've already given yourself the answer before, just some days ago. But you're not even aware of that, are you?“

„What do you mean? I have not the slightest clue what you're talking about. Please, make yourself clear so I can understand you, droogie.“

„What's the use of making myself clear? You don't want to hear it anyway. You don't want to hear anything others have to say. Because nothing matters to you except for yourself, that's how it's always been and will always be!“

„What? Where does that come from all of a sudden?“

„If you weren't so focussed on yourself all the time, you would've noticed that it's not 'all of a sudden',“ he says, the bitterness practically dripping from his goloss, his litso and his creepy-ass-smirk. „I've tried to tell you before. That I'm sick of always doing what you want, of being treated like a piece of shit. I'm so sick, Alex. You think you're the boss, don't you? You're the boss and us others, Dim, Pete and I, we're your gloopy little minions. That's what you think, don't you?“

„That's...“ I stare at him in complete confusion. „What does that even have to do with anything?“

Georgie chuckles again. A very humourless chuckle.

„See? You don't even deny it. You don't even care about what I have to say because all you can think of are the things you want to talk about.“ He comes closer and my nogas instinctively make two steps backwards. „You want me to tell you the truth, Alex?“ he asks, leaning forward, smiling as I let out a gasp – I feel the wall against my back, he has cornered me. And he seems to love that circumstance, making it even worse by placing his hands on the wall on either side of me. „I'll tell you what you want to know,“ he then says, looks into my eyes and lowers his voice, literally everything about him scaring me right now. „When I've left the Korova that day... I've met Billyboy. I've told him about you and your... 'uncle'.“

„Y-You did what...?“ It's not like I haven't suspected that anyway. But to sloosh him actually confirming it, oh brothers, that's something entirely different. „Why... why would you do that?“ I stammer, not sure if I'm appaled or angry or something else or everything. „You knew that he would use that against me in some way, didn't you? You knew that – and you just told him something like that?! Why...?“ My hands grab his shoulders and shake him, I can't even control it. „Because of you, they almost raped me! It all happened because of you! Why did you do that, Georgie, why did you betray me like that...?“

He just looks at me, not moving, not reacting in any way. Only for the blink of an eye, I viddy some new kind of emotion in his litso, something... softer. Something pained. And it confuses me even more.

„Betray you, you say,“ he mumbles quietly. „How is it 'betraying' when we're not even friends? And we aren't friends. Are we?“

„What are you talking about? I thought we were droogs. Is that not the same as a friend?“ I laugh shakily, suddenly feeling like a gloopy, malenky child, really horrible. „Why are you like that? I... I don't understand, Georgie, I don't fucking get it...!“

„Because you've made me feel like shit all the time,“ he shoots back, his bitterness so intense that I wince involuntarily. „You don't even realize it, do you? I can't even count the times you've behaved like a total dick. You do it every day. I just– It's enough, you know?“ His gaze drifts away. „Do you remember the day you were in the Korova for the first time?“

„What kind of question– Yes... Yes, I remember. Of course.“

My thoughts go back to that day. How long has it been? Two years? Three?

„Very well,“ Georgie says. „And you also remember who's been with you that day, right? Who introduced you to it all, showed you around?“

I take a deep breath and avoid his gaze. I don't know why but I can't look into his eyes right now.

„Yes,“ I say. „It was you.“

„Good. You haven't forgotten, it seems.“ He sighs and seems to think. Maybe he's remembering that day, too, lost in his memories. I really have no clue what's going on in his gulliver. „I've met you on the schoolyard,“ he then says. „Remember? Before we were in the same class. You were alone and... full of anger, with no way of letting it out. You were so frustrated. You told me you were considering to blow up the whole school. Set it on fire or something.“

I shiver. That's true, I had that thought when I was about twelve or thirteen. Haven't thought about it for a while.

„Yeah... That was after I was in the corrective school. Everything was starting to make me real sick. I just wanted... to see everything and everyone burn.“

„I know. And I've felt that.“ Georgie's gaze drops to the ground and he smiles, just very slightly. He doesn't look happy though. He looks somewhat embarassed. „You were the first person, actually, that I sort of... understood. I thought there was a connection maybe. That's why I introduced you to everything that's still a part of your daily life now – the Korova, the stuff that sharpens you up, Pete and Dim. To give you an outlet. And to make you one of us. I thought we were all kindred spirits and could show everyone else that we give a fuck about them.“ He shakes his head, his embarassment apparently switching to bitterness again. „But you took it all and made it your own thing. You never said 'Thank you'. You just took everything without giving anything back. And I'm done with that.“

He slowly moves back a little and I realize how close he's been. I reflexively let out a relieved breath.

„I... I didn't want to make you feel that way, Georgie,“ I say after a moment, staring at the floor. I don't know what to make of this situation. Is he trying to make me feel guilty? But he has no right to make me feel that way, no. I've suffered so much, and it was his fault, wasn't it? My fists clench, anger welling up inside of me. „I must admit though, I still don't understand what this is all about,“ I add, trying to ignore how my rookers are shaking. „If you think I've treated you, like, poorly and unfair, my brother, why didn't you tell me earlier? We could've talked. Why make me pay in such a way instead? Isn't that a bit childish? And what does this all even have to do with the veck you think is my boyfriend?“ I smirk at him, I can't help it. „You're jealous of him, aren't you? You think I have that deep connection with him that you wish you had.“

And before I even have the chance to think about what I've just said, I already feel the burning sting of his palm on my litso. He's slapped me, brothers. And I think I might have deserved it.

„You really can't do anything about it, can you? You really... are a dick.“ Georgie laughs and I say nothing. „You know what? I feel bad for that Phil-veck. He cares so much about you. The way he looked at me when I told him you might be in danger, the way he looked at you... and the way he looked at Billyboy's droogs like he would kill them and everyone else on the planet just to save you... Poor Phil. He will regret having met you.“

His slovos reach me, but I somehow can't process them properly. And then, when Georgie gives me one last intense look, I notice that there are tears in his eyes, and it's so very weird because I've never seen Georgie or one of my other droogs cry.

„Fuck you,“ he hisses and walks away, briefly wiping at his glazzies with his sleeve, leaving me there, still leaning against the wall. His slovos (not only that „Fuck you“, more what he's said before) still echo in my brain and I slowly manage to comprehend their meaning. And somehow, I just feel empty for minutes, not doing anything but standing there and gazing into space – until there is an almost all-consuming need inside of me to scream, to sink down to my knees and scream and maybe blow everything up, like I already wanted to do when I was younger. My nogas are shaking and my insides feel like they're melting. But I don't cry because I'm sick of crying, not to mention that, in a place like this where others can see me, I can't do that anyway. And now I wonder – is it the same for Georgie? Does he cry when he's alone?

But the next moment, I stop thinking and caring about it. Because it doesn't matter, because nothing really matters. So I keep standing there, take a few deep breaths and return to the classroom when I sloosh the shoom of the school bell, avoiding to look at Georgie for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

The time I'd spent with Gary after school had been so pleasant, I couldn't even quite believe something like that had really happened to me. He'd been nothing but nice to me, and even though we hadn't done anything but sit together and talk, it had made me happy in a way I hadn't felt for a very long time. He'd even given me one of his sweatshirts and helped me cover up my injuries, so I could arrive at home without having to explain much.

After that I'd seen him regularly in school – during the breaks, sometimes after classes, sometimes before – and he had told me a lot about himself. He liked Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin, he enjoyed watching horror movies but also sitcoms, and he had seen 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' three times with his mother and sister and knew all the songs and some spoken parts by heart. He'd also told me that he liked to talk to all different kinds of people and could make friends quite easily but didn't really see most people he hung around with as 'friends' because most of them didn't even know who he really was. And that was something that had made me feel connected to him on a deeper level, in a way. Because I knew that feeling very well – minus the 'easily making friends'- and 'enjoying conversations with all kinds of people'-thing. I had always been more of an introverted type, but even the few people I talked to quite often, compared with others – my parents and other relatives, to be more specific –, didn't really know me that well. They probably thought they did though.

The next time Gary and I met after school was on a Friday and we hung out in his room for hours, Gary sitting on the bed while I was lying on the floor, listening to different bands, reading out stupid teen-magazines to each other and talking about everything and nothing.

„What boys really want,“ he read out loud with a dramatic voice. „Oh yes. Please tell me, omniscient magazine! What do I really want? I need to know!“

I rolled my eyes and laughed.

„What does it say? Being surrounded by big boobs all day long? Or maybe having an innocent girl by your side to protect because all boys want to feel like knights in shining armor?“

„Let's see,“ he said, raising his eyebrows as he continued to read. „There are different types of boys – the 'cool guy', the 'artist', the 'clown', the 'popular one', the 'shy one' or the 'nerd'. Of course each of those types needs a different kind of girl. Or maybe not??“ He paused and looked over to me with exaggeratedly wide eyes before looking back at the pages. „Some of them might like taller and some might like smaller girls. Some might like brown eyes and some might prefer blue eyes. Some boys like to brag about how many chicks they've had in bed when they talk to their friends. But that's usually not the truth and not even necessarily what they really want, just what they think sounds 'cool'. What all boys have in common: They actually wish for a girl they can be honest with, who understands them and makes them feel like they can be themselves without having to act tough.“ He frowned a bit and looked back to me. „That's actually... pretty deep. I mean, that's– It's true, isn't it?“

I gazed back at him pensively.

„I guess so. I'd definitely prefer to be with someone who makes me feel like I can be myself and can talk about everything than with someone who just... looks good.“

„Yeah, same.“ He kept looking at me, a bit absently as well, as it seemed. „Hey, what 'type of boy' are you, Phil? Lemme guess. Uuh... The shy one? No, wait – the nerd! But you also look like you could be an artist... Maybe a mix of all three?“

„A shy, nerdy artist? Hmm.“ I looked at the ceiling and chuckled. „I don't think I'm an artist. But the other two are kinda true. Maybe 'awkward bookworm' would be most accurate.“

„That's a good type,“ Gary said, smirking. „Girls secretly love that type of guy. They always say that's 'not cool' but deep inside, they all crave someone like that, believe me. My sister's had plenty of crushes on such guys, and my aunt is married to one.“

„Really? I don't know any girl who would want a boyfriend like that. At least it never looked as if anyone was interested in me in the slightest.“ I laughed again but then fell silent for a moment. „Maybe I'm just too dumb to recognize it though. But, you know... I don't even want anything romantic with a girl, to be honest. It's... not my thing.“

„Oh? Interesting.“ He smirked wider but only for an instant. „I mean... That's fine! Those magazines always say a boy needs a girl, bla bla. Everyone always says that. But y'know, it's bullshit. A guy or girl can be fine on their own, too. Romance isn't the shit for everyone, right?“

I gave him a very slight nod, not sure if I was still comfortable with this conversation. Maybe I should've just kept quiet about it.

„Yeah... Not for everyone,“ I said hesitantly.

„Some boys also want to be with another boy instead of a girl,“ he then said, not looking at anything in particular, and shrugged. As if it was just a casual statement, nothing meaningful. Perhaps it really wasn't more than a casual statement for him. But it felt like more.

„Right,“ I replied to that. „Gay people exist.“

„Yes,“ he said. „And everyone always just talking about 'boys and girls' probably doesn't make it easier for them to... come to terms with their... sexuality. Right? I mean... always seeing and always just hearing about straight couples everywhere has to be tough for someone who's the other way round. Must feel kinda... alienating.“

My heart was pounding really fast by now, it was as if he was talking about my own feelings and experiences. I had never heard anyone talk about that the way he did, I had only ever heard others calling random guys 'faggot' as an insult, and otherwise, gay people were rarely even mentioned.

„Yeah,“ was all I managed to say in response, and I wasn't able to look at him for a while. Until he suddenly got up from the bed and came over to me, sitting down on the floor beside me. He didn't look at me either. He looked a bit... awkward. Not much different from me. I sat up because it felt kind of disrespectful to keep lying there while he was sitting, as if I wasn't giving him enough attention.

„Y'know,“ he began, his gaze drifting around. „I guess I wasn't... completely honest with you the day we met. At least I didn't tell you everything. When you told me your name, I already knew – or was pretty sure, at least – that you must be the Phil I sometimes hear those assholes talking about. Those guys who bully you. I think... I know them. Not very well but– I guess you get what I mean.“ He smiled in a way that seemed kind of bashful. „There's a group of guys I've sometimes talked to at school, and I've heard them say things about others. They tattle a lot, always talking crap. I'm not friends with them, don't get me wrong! But, you know how it is... Sometimes it's hard to speak out against something or someone in public...“

It was silent for a moment. I watched him, tried to read his expression, what he was thinking. But there was no use trying to figure anything out just by looking at his face, so I tried to gain enough courage to talk to him again.

„So you mean... you weren't completely honest because you already knew who I am, at least by hearsay? But pretended you didn't know?“ I gave him a smile that hopefully looked reassuring but probably just looked anxious – because that's what I was. Anxious as hell. „It's okay. Don't worry about that,“ I said. „How else should you have reacted to me? Telling me 'Hey, I've heard about you!'? That would've been... weirder for me, actually.“

„Yeah... yeah, I can imagine that.“ Again, it was silent. „They... call you all sorts of nicknames that aren't very nice,“ he then went on. „Witch-boy, for example. Or... 'the Northern faggot'.“ I cringed inside. And so did he, it seemed. „I wish I would've told them to shut the fuck up. But that wouldn't change anything anyway...“ He took a deep breath, paused for another while as if it was hard for him to talk about this. Yet, he apparently wanted this talk. And then he said very hesitantly: „I'm sorry for asking you this, and I promise I don't want to make fun of you in any way. But... is it true what they say? Are you gay?“

My gaze drifted off but the question didn't make me any more nervous or anxious than before. I'd already known that would be what he wanted to know from me.

„If you don't intend to make fun of me, why are you interested in that?“ I just asked in return, hoping to come across as calm. And he laughed, in a way that sounded as if he was getting nervous himself now.

„Because... I'm gay. And I'd like to know if there's a chance... this could turn into more than friendship.“ I turned to him again – surprised. Maybe even a little in shock. Not that I hadn't considered the possibility of him and me becoming something more. But I'd thought that was nothing but hopeless dreams. I never would have thought he would actually say something like that, let alone so directly. So openly. „Sooo,“ he said with an expression that seemed to unite at least ten different emotions. „What's your answer? Or... y'know, forget about it, just forget I even said anything. It's not important. It's–“

„You're right,“ I interrupted him quietly. „The reason I'm not interested in girls that way is because... I'm into guys. It's not like I don't want anything romantic in my life at all. I'd like to... experience those things. Just like everyone else...“ I swallowed. I was suddenly overwhelmed and had to fight back tears. „What you said... that it must be so hard for people who are 'the other way round' to constantly see straight couples around them, only ever hear about straight couples, as if nothing outside of that exists – you're so right about that. But you probably... know that yourself, don't you?“

In a kind of pained way, I smiled at him, and he smiled back the same way, giving me an answer without any need for words. It was some sort of mutual understanding. A mutual sort of... sadness.

„How did your bullies even know about it though?“ he then asked. „I mean, you didn't tell them... right?“

„Of course not. They don't actually know. They just assume things because of my style.“ I laughed bitterly. „I've come to school with a bit of black eye-make up now and then. You know, like some rockstars do it. I'd probably like that style just as much if I was straight. But apparently, when someone who isn't a rockstar does it, it's more of a loser-thing. A freaky-outsider-faggot-thing.“

„Geez.“ He rolled his eyes but looked a bit amused at the same time. „If that was nothing but a rumour because of some eye-make up, it's just a coincidence that you're, well... actually gay, isn't it? I feel a bit stupid for asking now.“

„No, you shouldn't,“ I said quickly and felt really shy all of a sudden. „After all, I've hinted at that myself when I said I'm not interested in girls. And... you asked me because you wanted to know if I'm... available. Right?“

„Uhm... I guess so,“ he mumbled with a faint blush on his cheeks that made him look so goddamn attractive to me. „And... what do you say?“

„I'd say,“ I began, thought for a while and practically felt the awkwardness building up inside me again. „I... I actually don't know what to say, I'm a bit overwhelmed. Wow.“ I tried to catch a breath. „Yes. Yes, I'm available. I mean... for you. Not for everyone,“ I finally said, giggling like stupid, and then: „Uh... For me this would be a first. What about you...? Did you ever have a date or something before?“

„Oh.“ He coughed. „That's actually... a bit hard to answer. I've had... somethin' going on with some guys, yeah. But not really 'dates'.“ He hesitated, his face contorting in kind of funny ways, as if he was trying hard to come up with a good response. „I go to... places sometimes. Something like clubs. I have... fun with random guys now and then, so I'm not a stranger to it all, y'know? But I've never had a, y'know... serious relationship.“

„I get that. More like, uh... affairs or things for one night?“

„You could say so, I guess.“

„Ah.“ I looked at him, to the ground and back to him. „And what exactly is it... you want, uhmm... with me? Don't get me wrong, I'm quite open-minded... I think.“

„Open-minded? Sounds good,“ he grinned and leaned over to me, causing me to shudder slightly. „How about we just... figure out what this could become? But I can already say that I've never felt as connected with any guy from the clubs as I feel with you. You're... doin' something to me.“

And after that, he came even closer (almost causing me to have a heart attack from all that excitement) and he kissed me, his lips softly pressing against mine, waiting for my approval. It took me a short moment to return the kiss because I was just so freaking unexperienced and scared I could do everything wrong. But apparently, I didn't; apparently there wasn't much that could go wrong, so I closed my eyes and just let it happen, my arms wrapping around his shoulders all by themselves. And in all honesty – I don't know the right words to describe the feeling that grew inside me from that moment on. It was like I was reborn, like I could finally move forward, finally become a human being after all that time I had felt like a worthless piece of crap. Like a gate to something new had opened for me, to a life where I could just... be me. Be loved and desired by someone who understood me. Leave all the shit in the past because, with him by my side, I would certainly be stronger than before, wouldn't care about those brainless bullies anymore and would maybe even be happy to be myself instead of wishing I was someone else.

That's what I thought. And it was indeed the beginning of a new part of my life.

Chapter Text

Another day has passed and I've stopped counting the days, to be honest – the days since that unspeakable incident, the days since my last encounter with Phil... whatever type of days it is, I don't care and I have lost my sense of time.

Again, I'm sitting in school, listening to the ol' lady govoreeting about all sorts of problematic animals, and I seriously wonder why I'm even here. Why am I not at home, lying in my cozy bed and resting my poor plott and soul until I feel at least somewhat ready to get up and put some strong chai in my gulliver? But I think I know why that is. Because I need to distract myself, and because if I don't go to good ol' skolliwoll, I wouldn't get up and leave the house at all. Oh, cruel world.

My droogs are not all here with me though. Pete and Dim are. Georgie is not. He didn't say anything and I haven't talked to him since that little... conversation we've had in the hallway. Maybe he's sitting in the Korova all alone, pouting, drowning his anger at me with a lot of Moloko Plus. And the worst thing about that is that a small part of me can actually understand his anger. A bigger part of me feels really disappointed and betrayed though, and yes, angry as well, very, very angry. I'm not sure though if I'm angry at him. Just as I wasn't really angry at Phil, even though I told him I hated him and actually meant it. I have no clue what I really feel anymore and I wish I could just stop feeling anything at all, brothers.

When the school bell rings and I itty outside, followed by my two remaining droogs who seem to keep a distance from me today, I let myself rest against a wall, glancing briefly at Pete and Dim standing a few feet away from me before I look up at the sky, like some gloopjek expecting to find Bog and salvation anywhere up there. But what comes to me and pulls me out of my apathetic state is not salvation or Bog Himself – it's that grahzny, stinky dickhead Leo again. And not only him. That even grahznier and stinkier veck Billyboy is there, too.

„Hi, hi there, little Alex!“ Billyboy exclaims, and I instantly feel like I'm gonna be sick. „How art thou? Hope you're having a wonderful day?“

They're both grinning at me, and I realize I don't even see them as people anymore. They don't look like human beings to me in this moment. They're just surreal figures with distorted litsos, like, from a nightmare or something, only existing to make me feel horrible.

„He doesn't talk to you,“ I hear Leo say to him, and I want to turn away, don't wanna look at them. But for some reason, my glazzies are glued to their ugly litsos.

„I see,“ Billyboy says, leaning close to me and giving me a smirk. I can smell his terrible stench of old chip-oil. Makes me wanna sick even more. „Heard my little... joke has wrecked you a bit, eh? Too bad I wasn't there myself to viddy. Heard you were very entertaining.“

I try not to flinch. I just stare at him with pure disdain, nothing more or less. Billyboy shakes his head with a chuckle, as if anything about this was really funny.

„Anyway,“ he goes on, „you know what? Your little droogie came to visit me yesterday. Georgie-boy. And, holy cal, how fast he changed his mind about everything!“ He turns to Leo. „Right?“

„Oh yes,“ Leo replies but with his eyes on me. „Strange thing. First going to my good droog Billyboy to tell him your little secret, obviously encouraging us to have a bit of fun with you – and then he comes to fight us that same night, together with your sugar daddy. Isn't that odd?“

That actually makes me wince now, and I hate myself for it. But I still don't respond to them. They don't deserve a reaction from me. Unfortunately, they still don't stop.

„Veeeery odd,“ Billyboy says with a mock-thoughtful expression. (As if he would ever really think.) „Like I said, yesterday he came to me again, only to tell me that we shouldn't have done that and that he regrets having told me about it in the first place. And he even gave me some tolchoks, can you believe that, little Alex?“

Leo nods.

„I was there, too. Your droogie was really pissed, holy crap!“

I take a deep breath. Georgie really went to them all by himself? Why? To make amends?

„Good for Georgie then,“ I say after a while, my eyes still on Billyboy, and I notice his litso looks a bit bruised. „You look a little demolished indeed. Was that him? Did he give you an owie?“

Now he laughs, a low, unpleasant sound that perfectly captures his stupidity.

„No. Just my Dad,“ he replies, pointing at his bruises with a grin. „You think that was Georgie-boy? He didn't have a chance against us. What did he think, fighting alone against two?“

They both stand there, going „Ha ha ha“ and „Hee hee hee“, laughing their gullivers off right in front of me. I can't stand it anymore. But just when I decide to go away and leave them to themselves, I see another figure appearing from the corner of my glazzie.

„It's enough. Stop harassing him.“

It's Pete. My good droog, Pete, oh, always the most trustworthy one out of them all. Leo and Billyboy exchange an amused glance that makes me quite razdraz.

„Oh no. We don't want to get tolchoked again, right? So we better disappear,“ Leo says, the sarcasm very audible, and stinky Billygoat gives me one last grin before they finally do as Leo suggested and disappear.

„Thank you,“ I mumble quietly without looking at Pete. He just squeezes my shoulder, says „No problem“, keeps standing there for a moment longer and goes back to Dim. I keep standing there as well, not sure what to think, until I sloosh the bell again. No, actually I even keep standing there after the ringing of the bell for another ten or twenty minutes until I return to the classroom, ignoring the ol' lady's bleating about me being late. I ignore pretty much everything that's happening during classes, and when the bell rings for the last time today, I make a decision to not go home right away. I will go somewhere else first.

And when I arrive at my destination, my brothers, a strange kind of nervousness builds up inside me, and I don't even know where it comes from. It's not the first time I'm here. But it somehow feels like it is. I stare at the doorbell for what must be, like, three hours before I finally press it, and it takes a moment before the door opens.

„Alex?“ Georgie looks at me from inside there, apparently surprised. „Uh... What is it? Bringing me homework?“

He really looks like he's been in a fight. Crap.

„No... No homework. I've come to... talk.“

His eyes dart to the side.

„Talk? Really?“ he asks as if he wouldn't have expected this in a hundred years. „Well, alright then. Come in. I'm alone.“

I nod and follow him until we're in his room, and I notice I actually haven't been here for a very long time. Sure, I've been outside at his door several times to pick him up when we've met with the other droogs. But when was the last time I've been in his private room?

Georgie sits down on the bed, and I do the same, sitting down beside him, not knowing where to look. What do I even want to say? Dear Bog.

„I've heard... that you've paid another little visit to Billyboy. All by yourself.“

That's what I say. And Georgie nods.

„Yes. Right.“

Silence.

„Uuuh...“ I take a breath. „Why... did you do that?“

„Because I wanted to,“ Georgie immediately responds and falls silent once again for a while. „Alex... What do you wanna talk about? It's not a big deal, okay? Go home.“

„No, I... I'm serious. I need to talk to you. I...“ My hands clench. Oh, hell. „I'm sorry, Georgie. I want to... apologize. I've probably been a prick.“ I look at him with a shaky smile. „I didn't want to hurt you. But I keep doing that... don't I?“

Georgie looks at me, like, shocked. Yes, this is probably the last thing he expected to ever hear from me. He chuckles softly.

„Wow.“ He looks away, apparently lost for words. „That's something new. Alex DeLarge saying he's sorry.“ Another chuckle, but I can see his insecurity. „What gives me the honour?“

„Look. What you said to me yesterday– I'm still mad at you for what you've done and I'm not sure I really... understand what's been going on in that gulliver of yours. But you made me think.“

„Think? About what?“

„About... everything really.“ I try to make eye contact with him, so he knows I really mean what I'm saying. „You, uh... you reminded me of our early days, didn't you? The time you introduced me to the others. To the Korova. And you're right. I've never said 'Thank you', I just... took it all for granted. But I shouldn't have. You were the only one I could talk to at that time. And we might've not had the deepest conversations or the strongest bond – but at least you showed me that I'm not alone. That there are others who... well, feel like me. And if you hadn't been there... maybe I would've really set the school on fire. I don't know what I would've done.“ I pause for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. „So... thanks, I guess,“ I then say. „Thanks for... being my friend.“

I'm not able to hold the eye contact anymore. Not because I'm not serious. It's just too terrifying and weird.

Georgie doesn't say anything for a long time. Who knows, maybe he's feeling the same way, maybe he doesn't know how to deal with a situation like this. But when he starts to speak again, it's definitely not something I've expected.

„Do you still feel like there's no real bond between us?“ he asks, gazing into space. And then: „Do you feel there's a bond with that... Phil?“

I gasp unintentionally.

„That's– Why do you keep asking me about Phil?“ I retort, maybe a bit too defiantly. But the pained look he gives me already answers my question. „You... really are jealous?“ I then ask back in a bit of disbelief. „You didn't really want to make fun of me, did you? You're just... hurt? Because I have a strong connection with someone?“

Georgie looks away. I've really never seen him like that. It makes me feel... bad.

„You don't have to be jealous, Georgie,“ I say hesitantly. „Yes, it's... different what I have with him. I can't really explain it to you. But he couldn't replace you. He's... not like us.“ No, he really isn't. And that's what kinda stings. No matter how much Phil cares for me – he will never understand the things I do. He will always wish I was a better person. „You shouldn't be jealous,“ I say quietly. „He's not like you. And... I'm glad that I have you.“

I hear him breathe, see how his whole plott tenses up. It makes me shiver. Have I really been too blind all the time to notice how he feels?

„I'm glad, too,“ he mumbles, barely even audible, before he leans closer to me and places his hand on my arm, clutching slightly at my sleeve. I'm confused for an instant, not sure what he's doing. Until he leans even closer and tilts his head, a gesture that is absolutely not unfamiliar to me – but even though I begin to understand what he's doing, I still can't suppress another gasp of surprise when I feel his lips against mine. Oh... Oh, good Lord, this can't be happening, this can't be real.

„What... are you...“

I can't even speak a proper sentence. My brain is a mess. He stops, and I feel my poor heart racing like crazy.

„You didn't... see that coming?“ he asks, a small laughing sound escaping him, looking at me as if he's the confused one here. „Come on! I thought... it was obvious by now...“

„No. No, it wasn't. Not to me. Maybe I'm dumb...“ This just can't be, can it? My droog, Georgie, didn't really just try to kiss me? „I... I'm sorry. I don't know– I can't think straight right now...“

„Then stop thinking,“ Georgie simply says, and without giving me the chance to respond to that in any way, his lips are back on mine while his hand's gripping my wrist. Bloody hell.

I try to stop thinking, like he said, try to just let it happen – I've already let worse things happen with Phil, right? But this isn't Phil, my mind tells me. This is one of my droogs, dammit.

Yet, I don't want to fight it for some reason, and I don't know if it's only because I don't have the energy for more drama with Georgie. Maybe a malenky part of me really is curious, so I let that malenky part take control and close my eyes. He seems to notice that I manage to let go a bit and places his other hand on the back of my neck. And as I feel his kiss and the... affection in it, the incredible softness of his touch, I can't help but moan quietly against his mouth. Georgie's grip around my wrist tightens and his other hand slides down from my neck to my back and under my sweatshirt, slowly stroking over my ribs, making me shudder. I feel like I can't even process what is happening. My body seems to process it much easier than my brain though, especially that treacherous part between my nogas. But should it really make me feel this way?

„Georgie,“ I say when there's an opportunity to breathe. „Uhh... stop...“

He stops and looks at me a bit anxiously, as it seems.

„I shouldn't have done that, right?“ he instantly says, another little nervous chuckle escaping him. „Crap, oh, crap... I'm sorry, droogie. I shouldn't have done that.“

„No... I mean–“ How do I respond to that? To all of this? „It's just... Fuck. I just don't know what to say.“ I swallow and pause for a moment. „Are you... Do you like guys, Georgie? Or just me? What is it you... feel for me?“

„I don't know,“ he says, his voice breaking. „I honestly don't know. It's not like... I'm not turned on by pretty devotchkas, you know? I do get a kick out of that. But it's... so different from what I feel around... you.“

„Around me?“ I repeat like a total jerk. „But what is that feeling? Can you describe it? I just want to understand.“

He's silent again for a long time. I almost don't expect him to answer me anymore.

„It's something I've never felt with anyone else. An urge to... I don't know, be close. Talk... and stuff,“ he then explains. He doesn't look at me. „And more than only that. When we grab us a nice little devotchka, I don't even look that much at her face. I just sloosh those pathetic weeping- and screeching-noises they all make from somewhere far away, like, I hear it in the back of my head, and it spurs me on, makes me let out something that always... bottles up inside me. It just never lasts for long, it's like some kind of... venting that I need again and again. But do you know what makes me cum everytime?“ Now he raises his eyes to me and stares right into my soul. „Imagining it's you underneath me. Imagining how your face would look while I'm doing the same things to you that I do to those weepy little devotchkas. That thought always gets me.“

I'm quite speechless for a long while. Great Bog in heaven. My whole litso feels so hot, I must be red all over. I really can't help but imagine the same thing now – him lying on top of me, screwing me like I've seen him do it many times before with others. Only that I'm not a devotchka. A second later, I automatically imagine it the other way round, him being underneath me, and I wonder how he would look in that position as well. But my thoughts drift back to the first scenario because he's described it with that intense stare in his glazzies that really had me all flustered.

„God, Georgie,“ I mumble, laughing nervously. I can't think of anything else to say. Seems I've lost all my intellect and charisma and wit.

„I didn't choose it, you know,“ Georgie says quietly, a soft smile on his face but again overshadowed by anxiety. „I tried to be normal. It's not like I want it that way. I don't want to be queer, I really don't.“ He breathes in, and it seems like he is trying really hard to suppress that trembling of his body. „So, tell me – how do you cope with it? Since when do you know? Do you just... accept it?“

Sighing, I try to think about his question (which isn't an easy task, my brothers, my whole gulliver being occupied by real naughty images now).

„Well,“ I say, gazing out the window. „I didn't have a choice, did I? I've known for quite a while, actually. That I can be... attracted to all kinds of bodies. In theory, at least. And I've never really felt ashamed about it. What does it matter?“

Georgie looks at me with a frown, skeptical, and he's right to be skeptical about that – it's not the whole truth. Yes, in theory it didn't matter to me whether I was attracted only to female plotts or also to male ones. Why would it? It was nobody's business what turned me on, and it was all just a game for me anyway. Like Georgie put it: some kind of venting. The fact that I could imagine that 'venting' with a malchick just as much as I could with a devotchka has never been anything concerning for me. But all of that's ever been purely about sex, sex and only sex. No feelings involved, nothing in any way comparable to the things I've found out about myself since I've met... Phil.

„I think,“ I go on after a moment, „there's a difference between the shame you feel about yourself and the shame you feel because of others. I don't view myself differently because of who I like to fuck, Georgie. But talking about it with others is a whole different thing. Because you're suddenly not the same person to them anymore, they suddenly start having all weird kinds of assumptions about you, only based on... well, gloopy body-parts you may or may not want to touch.“ A small, bitter chuckle escapes me. „Don't you think it's stupid, Georgie? Come on. It's such a moronic, narrow-minded way of thinking.“

He seems to ponder, his litso very absent, as if he was considering if I could be right about those things. I never thought I would ever have such a conversation with one of my droogs. But here we are.

„So,“ he says hesitantly, turning to face me again. „You're equally attracted to malchicks and devotchkas? Is it just... the same to you?“

„Hmm. I wouldn't say it's the same, exactly. You're really asking me questions now...“ I have to laugh a bit, and it's kind of relieving to see that he does the same. The tension's still there, but it's slowly getting less uncomfortable, it seems. „Now that I think about it – I really never actively fantasized that much about malchicks. Now and then I did, but... it was always a bit difficult, you know? Imagining scenarios with devotchkas was much easier because that's what I've always known, what I've always been familiar with. But I'd say... if I could decide between having the in-out with a pretty devotchka or a pretty malchick, and both would be equally easy to achieve, it would just... depend on my mood. Maybe I have to feel a bit more experimental to do it with a veck.“

„I see.“

Georgie nods slightly, apparently a bit, like, fascinated. And I'm quite fascinated myself, I must admit, by the odd circumstance that this conversation actually seems to help me understand myself better, even though it's obviously Georgie who's trying to get some clarity here. But I do as well. I'm beginning to understand that the reason I get so nervous around Phil, the reason I struggle so much with everything, doesn't mainly lie in the fact that he owns a cock. No. It's because he makes me feel all those things I never thought I would be able to feel – and it would make me just as nervous if he was a woman. On the other hand, a woman would be physically weaker than me, and wouldn't that change the whole dynamic...?

„Lost in thought?“ Georgie asks with a sheepish smile. It makes my heart flutter a bit and I don't know what to think about that.

„Kind of.“ I try to smile back at him. „What... do we do now? I mean, you, uh... you kissed me...“

„Yes,“ he just says, and it's very clear that he's still overwhelmed by that. I can't say that I'm not. In fact, I'm very much fucked up on the inside. „Are we still... droogs?“ he asks a moment later. I laugh again, out of sheer fucked-up-ness.

„I honestly... don't know, Georgie. I don't want to lose you as my droog. But how do you expect me to... proceed with everything, you know, now that I'm aware of your... thoughts?“

Oh yes. His thoughts about screwing me. Who knows how often he's already fantasized about that right in front of my eyes. I'm pretty sure I'm blushing again, thinking about all this, and it's quite embarassing. Georgie seems to notice that and gives me a little smirk that makes me shudder slightly.

„You enjoyed the kiss though, didn't you?“

He doesn't say more than that. But it's enough to rip me apart even more.

„I did... yes.“ I close my eyes for a short moment, trying to collect my thoughts which is quite impossible with everything that's going on. „Fuck. Why do you have to make it all even more complicated?“ My voice sounds weak, and, as if it was some kind of curse or a revelation or both, I realize that it's because of those goddamn feelings again, those very strange feelings that I've never known for most of my goddamn life but that now seem to be bloody everywhere, consuming me, bringing me to my knees and making me want to scream my poor lungs out. First because of Phil, now because of Georgie. What has become of me, I wonder? „Please, droogie,“ I say quietly, hoping he doesn't notice what's going on inside me. „Give me... some time, okay? I don't know what to tell you at this moment. I need to... think about it.“

He nods, and I don't know if he's disappointed or relieved. I think he's afraid, and I can relate to that so much.

„It's alright,“ he responds, just as quietly. „Just... don't tell anyone about what happened here. What I told you. Alright? Especially not Pete and Dim.“

„Right, right.“

Of course I won't. I don't want them to know about it either.

Slowly, I get to my feet, and as I'm about to leave his room, he faintly calls my name, making me turn around once more.

„That veshch I've done,“ he says and takes a shuddering breath. „Telling Billyboy about... you know what... I'm sorry.“

I try to steel myself, to block out everything that's on the verge of overcoming me again. Billyboy doesn't really know anything, I tell myself. Georgie didn't really know it at that time either. And if Georgie hadn't told him that, maybe Billyboy would've found some other reason to make me suffer.

„I forgive you,“ I say and give him one last firm look. „But don't ever do anything like that again.“

„I won't,“ he replies, and I somehow believe him. Because he likes me too much, doesn't he? He doesn't actually want me to suffer, especially not after this talk we've just had. At least I hope so.

And with that, I leave him alone, leave the house and everything else behind me and walk aimlessly through the streets with my thoughts drifting, just as aimlessly, into all directions at once.

The day I've talked to Georgie for the first time. The time I've spent in the corrective school (or rather plural, 'schools' – but I specifically think about the last one I've been in). The times before the corrective schools, even though I don't even remember that much about those times, it's very blurry. And in the middle of it all, between all those memories, there's Phil, his presence always lingering in the back of my head because I wouldn't even have all those thoughts I'm having right now if he hadn't appeared in my life. Yet, my thoughts keep coming back to Georgie, my droog who I thought had betrayed me in an unforgivable way and whom I have now forgiven despite the unforgivableness.

My mind still can't really comprehend what he has told me, confessed to me, if I may call it so. He's confessed his feelings to me, hasn't he? And that also explains why he's gotten so angry yesterday, why he slapped me when I said he was only jealous of the bond I have with Phil. And why there were tears in his eyes which is so untypical for him. Bog...

Did he have a crush on me for all the time we've known each other? Did he wish he was closer to me all the time, without me noticing anything?

I think about what he has said to me – that I've treated him like shit so often, that I have, like, looked down on him and the others from above. And I wonder how much it must've hurt him to be treated like that by me, like, always being inferior to me, never being on one level. That's how I've seen everything and everyone around me, haven't I?

But I'm not superior, or maybe not anymore. Not when I'm so weak and pathetic and boohooing all the time and with those thoughts about putting an end to it all. I'm not anything really anymore.

„You think you're so special, little Alex, yes?“ It's the annoying goloss of my post-corrective advisor echoing in my gulliver. P. R. Deltoid, that grahzny ol' bastard. „You think you can do everything you want, yes, yes? You will learn soon enough that it doesn't work that way. Look at your poor, poor parents. What are you doing to them, hmmm? They will die of a heart attack because of you, yes, yes.“

And while govoreeting that cal, he has a cigar in his filthy rot and that grin that he always has on his litso when he talks to me, a grin that tells me how superior he feels himself and how he loves looking down on all of us bad little malchicks, waiting for the next opportunity to give someone a horrorshow little punishment and then go to bed, like, real satisfied.

Before all that, I suddenly remember, there was a day when my Pe had actually told my Em she would have a heart attack if she didn't calm down very skorry. And it was because of me indeed. I was in hospital, my brothers, and I was very malenky at that time. I think it was diphtheria – oh, yes, that's why I was there. I had difficulty breathing properly, almost couldn't speak and felt really sick. Pe and Em were there somewhere; I can't tell where exactly as I was half asleep. But I heard them talk, and I might not remember it all so well, but I do remember that she was completely out of her mind, boohooing and howling for what must've been an hour straight. „Ooooh, he's going to die, our son is going to die, what shall we do?“ and all that. I heard it all the time, brothers, just couldn't answer in any way, and I remember how I wished she would just shut up, shut her rot forever and ever, and how I thought, if I was going to die, then why couldn't I at least snuff it somewhere else and have some pleasant last hours instead of lying there between stinky, coughing old vecks, listening to my mother's shrill boohoohooing. It's funny how I suddenly remember all these things I haven't thought about for so long.

After a while, I realize where my aimless walk has led me, and I'm a bit surprised by my own subconscious, I must admit. I'm at the ol' playground I sometimes went to when I was that malenkier version of myself many years ago. How interesting, I think to myself, that my instinct has brought me here, to a place from my childhood, while I'm remembering so many moments of that same childhood as well.

Nobody's here, and that's how it's always been. It's too dangerous for the little ones to play outside with all the violence going on everywhere, is what they always said – and still say. Yet, I've been here several times, brothers, without my Pe and Em knowing about it, all on my oddy knocky. Sitting on the swing or playing in the sand, imagining what could possibly happen if some bad, violent person crossed my path. I have a little smeck to myself.

And as I'm standing there, looking at the playground that I have all to myself, another memory pops up in my gulliver, as if to make all this even cheesier and more sentimental than it already is. And the memory isn't even so blurred.

I was here with Georgie. Not long after we've met for the first time, after that time in the corrective school. I was here with him, and only with him, for he hadn't introduced me to Pete and Dim already. It was after we've had our first Moloko Plus together, and the thought of that feels so strange for it feels as if we've had our evenings in the Korova our whole lives long and not just for three years at most. But it must've been around that time, and I can viddy it clearly before my eyes now – Georgie and me, high and on fire and real sharpened up, hanging around on this very playground, shouting, running and kicking the trash bins till they were real horrorshow deformed. And then we fantasized about doing that to a human trash bin together. Sweet memories.

I slowly walk over to the swing, take a look around to make sure there's really no one here, and sit down on the seat but without moving. It all looks just the same, nothing has changed (I guess things just don't change that much within two or three years), except that it feels different to sit here now that I'm a lot taller than I was back then. I gaze at everything and nothing, my head still full of all those things, and for a few minutes or maybe half an hour, I keep sitting there, as if I was that malenky malchick again, secretly playing here while Pe and Em have no clue where I am. At some point though, I feel like I really want to go home and slooshy some lovely Ludwig Van in my room. So I get up again and hit the road.

Chapter Text

Days and weeks went by and my life had changed a lot. Gary and I had gotten so close to each other, it was almost unreal to me. I'd never thought I would let another person become so close to me, never thought I would share everything with anyone else, even the most personal thoughts and feelings and things I rarely even thought about when I was alone. But he'd become that person. He'd become my everything.

A few days after our first kiss and during our next 'date' (I'm not sure if it's a date when you only hang out in someone's room), we had taken it a step further and had slept with each other in his bed, careful to be quiet, so his parents and sister wouldn't hear anything. Not because he didn't want them to find out he was gay but simply because it would've been awkward. Luckily, nobody had interrupted us, and even though we had still had our awkward moments now and then, giggling like the stupid teenagers we were, it had been the most beautiful first time I could've ever imagined. He had asked me several times if I was okay, if anything made me uncomfortable, and I don't think the majority of horny 17 year old guys would've been as careful and soft and considerate of their partner as he had been. After that, we had stayed in bed together for quite a while, just lying next to each other, his arms around me as if he'd been trying to protect me from the outside world – and from that moment on, we had been sure that there really was something special between us, something neither one of us wanted to let go. From that moment on, he'd been my boyfriend.

I had learned some things about the 'gay scene' from him, about the nightlife within our area that I'd been completely oblivious of before, and he had even taken me to a queer disco and to a drag show one evening. The disco had been interesting but a bit too much for me with all the dancing people and the loud music. I had really enjoyed the drag show though and couldn't help but think that you didn't even have to be gay to find such a hilarious show entertaining. But well, most people, especially men, probably just weren't open-minded enough to even consider going to such a place. Maybe the hippies were, but sadly, most guys I knew from school weren't like that.

Speaking of 'open-minded', Gary had also introduced me to some even more unconventional things that I surely had heard about before but had never thought about a lot. Once we had become close enough to each other to talk openly about all sorts of intimate acts and desires, he'd told me about his kinks and that he was kinda into what was (and is still) known as 'BDSM'. Not the hardcore stuff – but things like handcuffs, ropes and even whips, if used responsibly. It was all just really fascinating to me and I wanted to explore everything with him both of us were comfortable with. And not just the sexual things – he also told me so much more about himself, let me be a part of his life, and I felt so incredibly grateful that a person I liked trusted me so much.

One thing he told me that he apparently hadn't told anyone else so far was that he spent lots of time writing poems. We were hanging out in his room again, talking about music and how artists wrote their lyrics.

„I do that, too,“ he said, looking a bit embarassed. „Not really song-lyrics, but... I often write little texts. Some rhyme and some don't.“

„Really?“ I was interested immediately. „That's cool! What kind of texts? What are they about?“

„Pretty much everything,“ he laughed. „You can see for yourself... if you want.“

A little sheepishly, he opened a cupboard and gestured for me to have a look at the things inside there. There were several pieces of paper with his handwriting on them, and in the middle, there was a small book with a purple cover. I hesitantly pulled it out of there, and he gave me an affirming nod. So I opened the book and slowly flipped through the pages. It was full of texts, some of them two or three pages long, some just a few lines. Under some of them, there were little doodles and sometimes photos he had put there. It all looked quite creative.

„I like it,“ I said and read some of the titles. Many of the poems didn't even have a title, but the ones who had were named Soul, Torn, Lost and things like that. „The titles are very... how can I say it? Expressive? They say a lot with just one word.“ I smiled, still focused on the book. „But they sound kinda dark. The pictues have that sort of vibe, too. Do you like writing about dark topics?“

It took him a moment to answer, so I looked up at him, hoping I didn't say anything wrong.

„I guess I do,“ he said with an expression that seemed very... absent. „It comes kinda naturally, y'know? I just feel inspired and write something down.“

„I totally get that, yeah.“ I flipped through the pages of the book again but noticed that something was off. I didn't really have a clue what it was then. But the feeling grew stronger and I also couldn't help but notice that Gary seemed quite... restless. „Is everything alright?“ I asked him hesitantly, and he just nodded quickly.

„Yeah... Yeah, of course,“ he said but kept fumbling around with his shirt and his necklace, and he seemed tense. I tried to ignore it for a while, didn't want to pressure him into saying anything he maybe didn't want to talk about. But it just seemed to get worse, and eventually, he got up from the bed. „I'll just– I'm in the bathroom, I'll be right back,“ he mumbled and disappeared.

I stared at the door he'd walked through, now tense myself, not sure what to make of this. It seemed like quite strange behaviour for someone who just wanted to go to the toilet. But I waited in his room and kept staring at the door, suddenly too nervous to do anything else. I tried to read some of the poems in the book, but I couldn't.

It took a while until he came back, and when he did, I was glad at first to see that he didn't seem so tense anymore. But I realized his behaviour was now even more concerning than before, in the opposite way, kind of. He seemed overly relaxed, gazed into space with a weird smile, didn't move much and also didn't react anymore to what I said to him, or at least it took him way too long to react. As if he was in a place far away where my voice didn't really reach him. It was so very strange, I had no clue how to deal with it.

„Gary? What's wrong?“ I finally asked after about ten or twenty minutes of silently watching him becoming a zombie. „Please... talk to me, okay? I'm really worried. You're obviously not okay, you're barely moving and I think... your breathing's getting heavy, too? I... maybe I should call an ambulance.“

„No,“ he just said with a very soft voice, still smiling. „It's okay. That's... normal.“

„Normal? What are you talking about? You definitely don't look normal.“

Again, no reaction for a while. His eyelids fluttered and he let out a deep sigh.

„I'm fine, totally fine, believe me,“ he said, very slurred. And then he scooted closer to me with a wide grin that made me shudder heavily. „How about we have... some fun?“

„Some fun? Uhh...“ He touched me, kissed my neck, gripped my shirt. Usually, I would've liked that, or at least wouldn't have minded. But not now. So I tried to stop him. „I don't... I'm sorry, I can't do it like this. I'm worried about you! You're not your normal self...“

At that, he just gave me a look I really didn't know how to interpret. The only thing I knew was that he must've done something in the bathroom, or something must've happened to him, and now he behaved differently and obviously needed help. I suddenly had an idea of what might've happened, what he might've done to himself. But I wasn't sure, and I didn't want to accuse him of anything that wasn't true. But looking at his face, at his eyes, I got increasingly more certain that my suspicion was correct. And that scared the hell out of me.

Gary seemed disappointed that I didn't feel like being intimate with him, tried to assure me again and again that he was absolutely fine (which I didn't believe), and in the end, he gave up on trying anything and just kept sitting there, gazing into space and sighing occasionally. I stayed with him for a while longer because I didn't want to leave him alone like that. At some point, he told me I could go home and didn't have to force myself to sit there with him. I did, reluctantly – at least I knew that his family was there –, but I didn't get any sleep that night.

When we met again at school, he was back to normal, but I was still really worried, and he noticed that. I got very nervous but tried to talk to him, and after beating around the bush for several minutes probably, I asked him if he took drugs. He looked as if he had both expected that question and not expected it.

„No,“ he said, laughing. „No, of course I don't. Don't worry about anything, okay? You're overthinking everything, man.“

It's true, I was prone to overthinking pretty much everything. But his reply had been way too delayed to seem credible. And I really hate myself for it, but I didn't want to dig deeper, didn't want to make him feel like I didn't trust him, didn't want to destroy what we had. And I was also afraid of how things could change, what I could find out about him, if I kept asking. So I didn't ask him again and didn't see him in that weird, sluggish state again either.

One day – it must've been about two months after that talk – he invited me to a party that one of his disco-acquaintances gave. Apparently, he had asked if he could bring his boyfriend. It was some kind of a 'queer motto party' the guy threw in his pretty large living room. The motto was 'Mexico', or more specifically, the 'day of the dead', so everyone had that typical skull-make up on their faces, including Gary and me. I've never been that much into dressing up and that kind of stuff, but in this context, I kind of liked it. Gary had helped me with my make up, and it looked quite creative. I wore a white shirt and a black vest, and Gary wore a suit, which created a contrast to the skull-faces that I thought was kinda beautiful, for some reason.

There was a lot going on at the party, as it usually was with parties, I guess. I didn't know because I'd never participated in something like that before. Loud music was playing, a chaotic mix of disco-songs and psychedelic rock, mostly, and I liked some of it. There was something like a little buffet and various drinks (of course lots of alcohol). And the people looked incredible with their extravagant make up, kind of surreal, like it was a scene in some kind of movie I had entered. Many of them also wore bizarre clothing, some had long, colourful dresses on, and I think some of the people in dresses were women and some were men. But it was hard to tell, and it didn't really matter. They were just a bunch of freaky guys having the time of their lives, and even though not all of this was exactly my thing, I also felt at home in some way, realizing you could be a freak and an outsider and still perfectly fine the way you were. I realized that even for people like me, there was a place to go, and that there could be such beauty in being different. And that realization made me understand why Gary liked these people so much and why he kept going to those clubs, even if he didn't form strong connections with anyone there.

At some point, while the others were dancing and singing and enjoying themselves, Gary sat down on the couch with me and pulled his little purple book out of his bag.

„I wanted to give you this,“ he said which puzzled me a bit, but he explained: „The day I let you look into it, you got distracted because... I was weird that day, I guess. But it's important to me to share my thoughts with you. Because... you're important to me. And I think I can express my thoughts better through poems and pictures than... well, y'know, while talking. So... I want you to keep this book.“

I was a little stunned.

„Keep it?“ I repeated. „But don't you need it back?“

„No, it's okay. The texts I really like exist twice, I wrote each of 'em down on a piece of paper, neat and tidy, y'know? The book is more for... I don't know, when something suddenly pops up in my head and I need to remember it. With the pics in there, it probably looks like I've put lots of effort into it to make it look good, but they're just in there for inspiration.“

I was silent, just looking at Gary and then at the book with such a strong feeling of appreciation, and I totally related to his struggles he had talked about a minute ago – I didn't really know how to express my feelings either.

„Thank you. Really. That means a lot to me,“ I said eventually, smiled and gave him a kiss. He kissed me back, and in that moment, I felt like everything would be good, there was nothing to worry about and there was nothing that could tear us apart. How wrong I was about that.

The evening went on, and I really got kinda used to everything and found myself enjoying the party, maybe also thanks to the alcohol. I didn't have that much, but it was enough to make me feel less tense. Gary drank more than me but not that much either – at least not as far as I knew. I talked to some of the other people there, and they were really nice (apart from two of them trying to convince me to dance which was awkward as hell – but they were still nice), and one moment while talking to one of them, I noticed that Gary wasn't anywhere near me anymore. I looked around and asked others if they had seen him, but nobody really gave me a proper answer. After a while, he had just appeared next to me again, as if he'd never been anywhere else, and he seemed really happy, letting out a loud, content sigh.

„You're gettin' along with the others?“ he said to me, half question, half observation. I nodded hesitantly.

„Yeah... They're cool people. Where have you been?“

„Oh, just needed a moment for myself, catch some fresh air,“ he said casually. But somehow I knew that he was lying to me – I guess he just wasn't a good liar. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that though, that I didn't believe him; I didn't want to make a scene or something like that, didn't want to spoil the fun for everyone. So I kept quiet. Again. And maybe it's good that I've kept quiet, that I didn't ruin the party for him, because it wouldn't have changed anything, it would've only made him feel like shit, and I would've never forgiven myself for that. If anything, I should've tried to talk to him way earlier.

For two or three hours longer, we enjoyed the party, had fun with the others (even though I couldn't quite shake the feeling that he might've done something bad again), but at some point, as it got later and later, Gary also seemed to get increasingly more exhausted. And not just tired, not in a normal way. He was breathing heavily again and was kind of unsteady on his legs. And it got even worse with time. Some moments, it looked like he could barely keep himself awake, although it was a bit hard to tell what was happening on his face because of the make up. I asked him if he wanted to go home and if I could do anything to help him, but he said no, he wanted to stay here, and kept telling me all the time how much he loved me and how happy he was to be here with me. I knew that he was high, whatever it was he had taken. It didn't go without notice. His pupils were really small, he couldn't talk normally without suddenly losing his train of thought, and when he talked, it was so random, as if he was in his own world inside his head that made sense only to him. I knew it and still, I didn't do anything. I couldn't. I was helpless. Still, I was shocked, just like everyone else, when he collapsed and didn't respond anymore.

„Gary? What's wrong?“ they all asked him. „Oh God, are you okay?“ and „Is he sleeping?“ and „How much did he drink?“. But some of the guys also didn't say anything and just stared at him, paralyzed. I was one of them, until I bent down and took his hand.

„Don't do this, please,“ I whispered, feeling the panic overtaking me. „I... I love you... Can you hear me? Don't... please...“

But he didn't move or speak, and I wasn't even sure he was still breathing. I tried to check his pulse but barely felt anything which was probably both due to his pulse actually being really low and my concentration just not functioning anymore because I was scared to death and everyone around me went crazy and I just wanted to stop existing. I vaguely realized that someone was calling an ambulance, but it was like it was happening in another reality. Just when the ambulance arrived and they told me I couldn't come to the hospital with him, it became very real again. Yet, even though it began to sink in that all this was really happening, I felt so disconnected from myself, from my life, from everything. I spent the rest of the night in my room, staring into the darkness, and when I went to Gary's place the next day to see if he was home, his mother started crying and told me he had passed away.

For days, I didn't leave my bed, unless I had to go to the bathroom or had to eat something. I wasn't hungry at all, but I knew that my parents wouldn't just let me sleep all day without having anything to eat, and that was probably a good thing. But apart from that, nothing was good. They didn't really care for how I felt. They saw that I was miserable and couldn't go to school, but the only thing they were truly worried about was my grades. Somehow I found the courage though to talk to them one day and told them about all the things that had happened – that I got bullied at school, that I had met this guy who'd become my first real friend in years, that he's the one I had spent so much time with for the last few months, but that I had suspected he had problems and was maybe an addict, and then I told them about the party (not what kind of party exactly it was though) and that he had now died of an overdose – that's what his Mom had told me she had heard from the hospital: a dangerous cocktail of alcohol, heroin and something else that she wasn't sure she had understood correctly. My parents were shocked and looked at each other in a really concerned way. But what they said wasn't anything like „We understand that you need time to process all this“ or „We're sorry that you lost your friend“. No.

„Your friend was a junkie?“ That's what they said, with a really appaled tone of voice. And then, with some new kind of concern, my mother asked: „But he was just a friend of yours, yes? It wasn't some other kind of... thing between you?“, followed by my father shaking his head and looking at her, saying: „That's inappropriate. Our son isn't like that.“ After that he turned to me, saying „Right?“ and waiting for me to confirm I wasn't like that, meaning not one of the freaky gays.

„Really?“ I asked back. „That's all you're worried about? I told you that someone really important to me just died, and your biggest worry is my orientation?“

They looked at me with probably mixed feelings, but I could see that my response even increased their concern.

„It is a valid question,“ was my father's answer, and it was clear to see that he didn't ask me that out of sheer interest in my life but because he hoped it wasn't true, that I was normal, that I would find the way back to the right path. That I would hopefully also not get bullied anymore, because how should they deal with having such a loser as their son who gets ridiculed and beaten up and is possibly also one of the others? What a terrible thought it must've been for them. I didn't know anymore how to respond to them, so I just went to my room and locked the door. And after a while, I remembered that there was still something in my bag since the party that had belonged to Gary... and now belonged to me. The book.

I pulled it out of there and looked at the pages once more, but this time, I gave all the poems way more attention. Last time, I had only skimmed them, now I read them slowly. He had wanted to share his thoughts with me, it had been important to him. And I couldn't help but wonder if he had known that it would be our last night together.

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore as I read his poems and got more and more aware of how sad he must've been. How sad and... lonely. Not a single one of the texts was about a positive feeling. They all had similar topics, but one kinda stood out to me. It didn't have a title but had a self-drawn picture of a dripping red blade underneath. It read:

Where are the colours when all you know is grey?
Where are the words when there's nothing more to say?
Where do you go when there's nowhere to stay?
The answers might be somewhere
but way too far away

Bodies surround me, but are they alive?
The veins full of blood, the mind full of lies
And why do we bleed when we're cut with a knife
but don't from the stares of those uncaring eyes?

Wherever we go, silence prevails
No words can fix it, communication fails
Violence has power, whatever we do
It doesn't lie in the fists
It lies within you

The last two lines made me shudder. The text was a bit chaotic, but I completely understood its meaning, even though I couldn't have put it into my own words; and after reading it again and again, it became even clearer to me what it was about.

It was about violence – but not the physical kind you inflicted on others with your fists or with a knife. It was about a different kind of violence that was actually way worse and at the same time so common, so normal, that most people didn't even see the brutality in it. And Gary had known that kind of violence, otherwise he wouldn't have written about it like this. The realization hit me and I felt so helpless, so... guilty. Because apparently, I hadn't been able to save him, to pull him out of that hole. No, of course I hadn't been able to. I was still stuck in a hole myself. And now that the person I had thought was like my personal saviour had just vanished from this world, and now that I knew how little my parents actually cared about me, I was stuck even deeper than before.

Gary's family hadn't seemed so ignorant, I thought to myself. But the thought of that just made it worse somehow. They had seemed like a loving family, and it still hadn't been enough, the emptiness had still been there inside him, eating him up. And I probably felt the exact same way at this moment. It felt like an endless cycle, as if genuine love and care was something that just didn't have a place in this world; that it would go on and on like this, people living their lives with a mask on their face to hide every day how they really felt on the inside, just to survive. Just like the skull-make up that had covered Gary's face the last time I had seen him.

I kept holding the book in my hand but stared up at the ceiling. And for the first time, I seriously thought that nothing would ever get better, that life just wasn't worth living and that I should end it before I would too turn into one of those emotionless machines who killed others with their silent brutality. But I was a coward and couldn't do it. So I kept living as good as I could manage.

Chapter Text

It's weekend, my brothers. Two days I have all for myself. Not that I wouldn't stay at home anyway when I don't feel like going to ol' skolliwoll, but, as you know, everything's turned a bit upside down lately. School isn't even so bad if you need something to take your mind off things, but on the other rook, it can get real exhausting if there's always someone getting on your nerves. And a lot of people are getting on my nerves, unfortunately. A few days ago, I would've counted Georgie as one of them, too. Now I'm absolutely not sure what I would count him as or not. I haven't seen him since that day of his confession; maybe he doesn't feel stable enough to meet me at skolliwoll, when all the others are there as well. I probably should be glad that he wasn't there. I have no clue how I would've acted around him either, my brothers.

Now I'm sitting here in my little room and everything seems so normal, as if nothing had turned upside down, as if it was just another weekend and the past few days or weeks hadn't been a total mess. And I'm not really sure if I like that feeling. Do I want to pretend nothing happened?

No, I suddenly think to myself, no, I don't want that. Sure, everything is fucked up and I might struggle a little bit to cope with all sorts of veshches lately – but I can't keep pushing all those veshches to the back of my mind all day. And suddenly I know that I have to get out of here and do something. So I get up from the bed, using the moment of motivation before it fades away, and put my boots on.

The doorbell rings, disrupting me in an important quest that went really well so far, and I'm considering if I should just ignore it. Then the idiotic thought that it could be Alex crosses my mind and I pause the game, staring at my hands for a ridiculous amount of time before I finally get up from the couch. What a stupid thought, I think to myself. Why would he come here on a Saturday rather than doing his, well... typical things? He's probably out with his droogs, getting high and showing some defenseless people who's boss. Yes. Pursuing his absolutely normal hobbies with his absolutely normal friends. Nothing to worry about.

The doorbell rings again – two times in a row – and I almost turn around to go back to the couch, not in the mood to deal with someone that pushy. But I bring myself to open the door, and my pulse immediately quickens alarmingly when I see who rang the bell. God, it's really him.

„Hi, Phil,“ he just says, standing in the doorframe with a smile that looks like a weird mixture of cheeky and shy. „Long time, no viddy.“

I look at him, kinda baffled. It's just been a few days since I saw him for the last time (how could I forget that talk with his mother), but it really feels like a long time.

„Hi,“ I say in the most awkward way possible. „Uhm... How are you?“ I see him taking a breath and walking up to my front door, and I suddenly feel like a jerk. „No, you don't have to answer that now. Just... come in.“

I step aside to make space for him, and he nods slightly, looking kind of awkward himself, before he enters my apartment and takes off his boots hesitantly. I go into the living room and gesture for him to follow me, and when we both sit at the table and look at each other, me sitting diagonally across from him, I instantly wonder if this might be only a dream. If everything that has to do with Alex was only a dream actually. But even by my psyche's standards, it would be weird if it really had decided to make up a whole new person and then make me believe that person was my boyfriend. So I guess he's real. Or I've just gone totally insane by now. Sounds plausible, too.

„What brings you here?“ I ask after a way too long pause. „Have you... changed your mind about the private lessons?“

„Actually... yes,“ he says with a sheepish smile, looking to the side. „I've been... thinking a lot. About all sorts of things. And what you said to me last time I saw you – that I can contact you, given that I 'even want to see you under the circumstance that we won't have sex'... Well, I want to. And if I have to take gloopy private lessons for that – so what.“ He shrugs, raises his gaze to me again and smiles a bit more. It looks kind of flustered. „I... I can't stop thinking about you.“

No matter how crazy he might've behaved the last time we met, I can't help but fall for him again and again when he looks at me like that.

„Same,“ I eventually say quietly. „I've thought a lot about you, too. Hoped you're okay.“ My voice almost breaks. „Are you okay?“

He chuckles briefly but with a sort of desperate expression.

„I don't know. Everything's getting... really weird lately.“ He slowly reaches out and places his hand on my wrist. I wasn't even really aware of my arm lying on the table in front of me – I'm too disconnected from my own body to be aware of such things –, but now I feel my wrist very clearly, feel his hand on it, clutching at me. „I only know... that I don't want to lose you,“ he then says. „Because you've made a right bolshy mess out of me. And now I need you to... take care of that mess. Or something.“ Another little chuckle. „That sounded real cheesy...“

„No...! Okay, yes, maybe a little,“ I respond and have to laugh a bit, too. It takes me a while until I can think of something else to say. Something that makes sense and isn't completely stupid, I mean. Something that doesn't show totally obviously how much I need him myself and how utterly pathetic I feel because I have, in fact, thought about him non-stop during the last few days. „I've already told you,“ I manage to say, „I won't go anywhere. I'm here for you. Okay?“ Hesitantly, I take his hand into mine. „But now – let's focus on your school-stuff, alright? That's the reason you've come here, isn't it?“

He rolls his eyes and I have to laugh again. Yes, that's good. School-stuff. Maybe that will calm me down a little, and maybe it will actually be good for him, too. Distract him from all the bad things that are probably still going on in his head. Maybe this is the best we can do at the moment.

„What subject do you even want to teach me, Mr. Gravarg?“ he asks with a very flirty undertone and gives me a smirk. „I've put everything in my bag, just in case. Well, everything except my sports-clothes. But we have our very own kind of sports where no clothes are needed anyway, eh?“

I give him a little smirk in return and sigh.

„Of course we have. And regarding the subject, well... let's just pick something you've been struggling with lately. But it should also be something you think you could concentrate on now.“

Funny thing is, I don't even know if I'll be of any help for him in all of those subjects. But we can certainly give it a try, and maybe I'll at least be able to help him find ways to focus better.

„Righty right,“ Alex says cheerfully and bends down to rummage around in his bag. I didn't even notice that he brought a bag until he mentioned it, and just some seconds later, I notice something else that makes me snort a bit.

„Is that an 'A' on your pullover? For 'Alex'?“

He pulls something out of his bag – a little book – and grins at me.

„Who knows? Maybe it's also an 'A' for 'straight -A-student'!“

„Hmm, yeah. Maybe you'll become one if you take your private lessons seriously. What book is that?“

„'Animal Farm',“ he says. „We're reading and discussing that in English. Have to write veshches, uh, things about it sometimes, like, analytical things. I kinda like it, but... yeah.“

„It goes too fast for you because your mind is somewhere else,“ I finish the sentence for him, and he nods. „Alright. 'Animal Farm', huh? I've read that in school, too. And you say you like it?“

„Yes, it's a good book. Full of betrayal and hypocrisy. Like the real world.“

I sit there in silence and let that sink in. Then I get up and walk to the kitchen.

„I'll make some coffee. Do you want one, too?“

„Oh, gladly.“ Alex smiles at me, that cute smile that makes him look like a completely normal, sweet guy who doesn't love violence and chaos. „And what are we going to do? Read the book with assigned parts?“

„God, no,“ I laugh and lean against the counter as I wait for the coffee to get ready. „What exactly do you do in your English classes? Were there any exercises you had to do and didn't understand or couldn't concentrate on?“

„It's not like I didn't understand things,“ he instantly clarifies. „I do understand it all. It just... seems very much pointless sometimes and I don't really sloosh what the ol' lady is saying. So, when she wants to know anything from me, I can't give her an answer. Because I have no clue what she was talking about.“ He chuckles. „Guess the problem is that she's just a boring person. The book itself isn't boring.“

„You know... I get that. Some teachers just aren't gifted with the talent to... teach.“ That's true, but I know it's not the only reason for his problems. I don't mention that though. I don't want to get him down by reminding him of his trauma. „Now... How about we start like this: You give me a brief description of the story, tell me how it begins and what happens and who the characters are – and then we'll see how we could continue? That would help me remember the story better myself and maybe also help you to... well, get a better feeling for it.“

Alex looks past me pensively, and when I prepare two cups of coffee, I almost spill everything as I hear him exclaim a very soldier-like „Alright!“ from out of nowhere. I swear, that boy is killing me.

„The story starts with a very starry, fat pig called Major,“ he begins, „giving a speech to all animals of the farm about how they should rebel against the farmer who's, like, a total jerk and treats the animals like shit. After that speech, ol' Major just drops dead because he's old. Oh, and he's also taught them all a song, some sort of, like, war hymn they all keep blaring every day real horrorshow. Uuh...“ He pauses for a moment to think. I sit down at the table again, taking a sip of my coffee and putting his cup there, too, waiting for him to continue. „Then they start their rebellion and go for a good round of twenty-to-one, or more like fifty-to-one or something, and give that grahzny farmer some very horrorshow tolchoks to have the whole farm for themselves, calling it 'Animal Farm' from now on. Oh, oh, I forgot – some animals died while fighting the farmer 'cause that veck had a rifle or something, and one of them was a doggo who had puppies. One of the other animals, a pig called Napoleon, a real smug, egocentric veck, uh, takes care of those puppies and turns them into some real brutal combat doggos. Uuuh...“ Another pause. „Yeah, well... They do all sorts of things, you know, to improve their new farm. They build a windmill, although I have no clue how they do that with paws and hooves, but well. Oh, and I completely forgot – they also wrote some rules on the wall, that is to say, one of the pigs wrote them. It's like the Ten Commandments, but it's just seven. No animal shall kill another animal, and all that cal. But in the end, they all break their own laws, or, no, wait, not all of them do that – it's just the pigs. The pigs behave more and more like humans, they even wear, like, suits and walk on two legs in the end. Which is very ironic because one of their commandments was 'Four legs good, two legs bad'. So, the pigs just decided to be nasty baddiwads, apparently, and in the end, the other animals start to revolt against them, just like they revolted against the humans in the beginning. So, well, it all repeats itself. The end.“

„Wow.“ I can't suppress a little smirk. „That was certainly... an entertaining recap of the story. Maybe you should write your own version of 'Animal Farm' with your very own choice of words.“

„Thank you,“ Alex says, smirking and sipping his coffee as well. „I did my best, Mr. Gravarg!“

„Mhm. I see.“ Mr. Gravarg, I think to myself. I might enjoy that a bit too much. „I do remember the things you talked about. Wasn't there also a second pig who played a pretty important role? Snowball or something...?“

„Oh, right! Snowball and Napoleon. Snowball was the first one who tried to become the animals' new leader, but Napoleon didn't like that very much. They were kinda like, I don't know, presidential candidates or something, and Napoleon 'won' in the end. Oh, and there's also another pig called Squealer who's, like, Napoleon's personal minion.“

„Yeah... right.“ My own time in school comes alive more and more in my head, the memories of us students reading that book suddenly so distinct that it almost feels as if I was there again. I shudder slightly. Stay in the presence, I tell myself. If you want to help Alex concentrate better, be a good example. „Okay,“ I say after a while, taking another sip of my coffee. „I'll give you a task. Just let me think for a moment. You seem to have read the whole book already, right?“

„Not all of us. But I have, yes.“

I nod.

„Good. How about... you'll write a little essay now? Or... two, maybe. Two texts.“ I smile, kind of amused. I never thought I would play the role of a teacher one day. „First, I want you to write down your thoughts about Napoleon. What is his relationship with the other animals like? How do they view him? What do you think, why does he behave the way he does? Is he a good leader? How does his personality develop – and what could be the reasons? And the second task: Choose one of the other characters – one of the other animals on the farm, but not one of the pigs – and write a text from that character's perspective. How do they feel about the new farm and Napoleon's leadership? I'll give you... uhm... 45 minutes for everything.“

Alex raises an eyebrow and grins at me.

„You're so hot when you talk so teacher-like, you know? And what will you do during those 45 minutes? Just sit here and watch me?“

„That's a good question...“ I look around the room and the TV-screen catches my attention, reminding me of my quest I interrupted. „I'll just sit on the couch and play for a while. So, don't worry, I won't get bored.“

„You'll play while I have to work, aha!“

„When you're finished with everything and I see that you've put effort into it, you're welcome to join me,“ I say, trying to sound a bit flirty myself now. „Well... as soon as I'm done with this quest, that is. I have to concentrate, and your presence would probably be... distracting.“ His grin widens at that. „Now write your essays, Mr. DeLarge. Given your eloquence and understanding of the story, it shouldn't be a problem for you.“

„And what if I'm a bad student, Mr. Gravarg? What if I can't focus because your bloody sexiness distracts me too much?“

„That's why I will sit in the living room and you here at the kitchen table,“ I respond, pretending that's the only reason instead of the fact that I just really want to finish my quest – which will be hard enough, knowing that this certain person is sitting just some feet away from me with dirty thoughts that involve me.

„You're such a killjoy, Phil.“ He sighs dramatically as I get up from the chair and then adds with that puppy-expression he probably practices in front of the mirror: „What were the tasks again? Could you write them down for me, please?“

„Uh... Of course.“ I grab a ballpen and a piece of paper, try to remember the exact tasks I gave him – I almost forgot them myself – and then write them down. „Here you are. 45 minutes. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me.“

Alex looks into my eyes with that piercing gaze he has mastered like no one else. It makes me shudder.

„I'll manage,“ he just says, smirking. I take a breath to keep calm, keep my 'professional attitude'.

„Good luck then,“ I reply to him, give him a little smile and go back to the couch, trying desperately to ignore my racing heart.

Just as I'm in the middle of a boss-fight, my whole being immersed in the game, I hear Alex's voice calling me from the kitchen, and I flinch involuntarily.

„Phiii-iiiil!“

He practically sings my name. I let out a deep sigh, probably just as dramatical as he sighed before when I told him what to do.

„Yeah?“ I shout back. „Do you have a question?“

„No. I'm finished.“

„Already?“ I look at the clock. 50 minutes have passed. „Yeah, uh... Seems like I've lost track of time. My bad.“

I get up from the couch again, my eyes still glued to the screen. Guess I have to take another break. Whatever. Everything's alright.

„I get the feeling you don't really want to see me,“ Alex says as I come back to him and sit down at the table again. He says that jokingly, but I'm suddenly overcome with a feeling of guilt.

„No...! I... do want to see you,“ I respond and stare at the table. Trying to find the right words. „I just... I'm kind of exhausted. Mentally. There were a lot of thoughts going through my head recently, and I just need to... handle all that somehow.“

Alex eyes me, a bit worried, as it seems, even if he tries to hide that. He's not good at hiding such things. But how should I explain it to him? He's not my therapist and he has enough problems of his own. How should I explain that I keep thinking about my past, about my dead ex-boyfriend whom I couldn't save, and that being reminded of my schooldays kinda increases all those feelings? That I'm also worried about him and, as if all that wasn't enough, also about my own life, about having to work again, going back to university, because they might think my depression has magically cured itself or it's not enough of a reason anymore or I'm just a loser, a sick, lazy fuck who–

„Phil?“ Alex's voice jolts me out of my thoughts. Luckily. „Are you okay?“

„Yes. Yes, I'm okay.“ No. No, I'm everything but okay. „So... you wrote two texts, hm? Let me see.“

He slides his notepad over to me with a somewhat flustered, little smile.

„Hope you can read my handwriting,“ he says, and yes, I can read it very well. He has a really nice handwriting, actually, and he has also written quite a lot. The first task was to write down his thoughts about Napoleon.

Napoleon uses his leadership to turn the other animals into his slaves, he wrote. Obviously, the others don't like that. Yet, they let him go on and abuse his position because most of them are simple-minded and don't know what to do against him. He is a dictator and a liar. He doesn't really want to improve the life on the farm, he only wants a good life for himself, and the others have to work for that without even realizing how much they're being used by him. They don't even want to realize that they're treated like shit because without a leader they would be lost, and a bad leader, to them, is better than no leader at all. The simple-minded need someone to follow and despise chaos, so the idea of just killing Napoleon doesn't even cross their non-existent minds. In addition, their former leader (the farmer) has already treated them very badly, so they don't even know what freedom feels like, and having Napoleon, one of their own kind, as their leader is an improvement compared to how it was before.
Napoleon's behaviour, on the other hand, gets worse with time, and the more he gets used to his leading position, the more he turns into a being very similar to the humans. He bans the song they all used to sing as their hymn of rebellion because, in his eyes, there's no rebellion anymore and thus no need for the song. In fact, he's just afraid they will start rebelling against him. Once he gets used to the power over the farm and the other animals, he wants more and more of it. He starts sleeping in a bed (even though the original commandments said „No animal shall sleep in a bed“), and in the end, he and the other pigs can't be distinguished from men anymore. So, even though Napoleon has been a slave himself under the rule of Farmer Jones, he doesn't feel the urge to do a better job. In the end, he and the other pigs are the government that tries to make all the others believe in a great and functioning system when they're in fact just selfish swines – literally.

The last sentence makes me laugh a bit.

„Wow,“ I say, still staring at the text. „That's... quite good. And really detailed. And you didn't even use any strange slang-words!“

„It's easier to keep the Nadsat in check while writing,“ he smirks.

„Yeah, that's relatable,“ I respond, and when he gives me a slightly puzzled look, I add with a little insecure chuckle: „My, uh, accent and everything. When I was in school, I always found it way easier to write than to speak in English. But... that's not important now. Let me see what else you wrote...“

I look at the text underneath the first one – the second task – and notice there's barely any text at all. His task was to write from the perspective of one of the other characters. He just wrote:

Perspective of a sheep:
„I'm sheep. Napoleon smart. Four legs good, two legs bad. Meh, meh.“

That makes me laugh even more, actually. I clear my throat, trying to be serious. I'm his teacher, I remind myself.

„What happened here?“ I ask. „You wrote so much to exercise 1 and then almost nothing to the second one?“

„In all honesty, Phil – I really tried. But I can't empathize with anyone of those characters.“ He supports his face on his hand with a crooked, little smile. „I have no clue what's going on in their fluffy gullivers. I have a mind of my own, they don't. There can't be much going on.“

„Then why did you pick a sheep? You could've just picked someone else.“

„The others aren't that much different from them, are they? Sure, the others can speak proper sentences, maybe they're a little bit more intelligent than the sheep. But they're still not more than mindless followers, not able to decide anything for themselves and working themselves nearly to death, just because some egocentric pig tells them to.“ He shrugs. „I don't think they have any real thoughts. They just act the way they're expected to, nothing more.“

„Hmmm.“ His thoughts about that are interesting to hear, actually. I wonder if that's how he feels about most people in the real world as well. Are they all just sheep to him? In a way, I can even understand that. Sometimes it really feels like that's how it is. „So you can't relate in any way with any of the animals. What about the pigs? Can you identify with them?“

Alex chuckles.

„Not really. But maybe more than with the others. At least I can imagine what's going on in their heads.“

„Because they're more... like humans?“

„I don't think the pigs are actually more human-like than the others,“ Alex says and seems to think again for a moment. „Sure, they appear more like humans in the end, walking on two legs and everything, but I think that both sides are a lot like humans. One side – the pigs – are the ones in high positions who love to order the others around. And on the other side are all those good, little lewdies who go rabbit every day, doing everything to fit in and satisfy the ones in the high positions without wasting a single thought on what they really want.“ Again, a small smirk forms on his face. But this time, it looks kind of... cold. „I can't identify with either side, Phil. If there was a non-pig-character who lives on the farm but sees through the pigs' facade and stands up for himself... I would've picked him. But they're all mindless followers and let themselves get used and abused over and over. If there's only those two kinds of characters, I'd rather be a pig.“

„I see, yeah,“ I mumble quietly, kind of lost in thoughts myself now. He'd rather be a pig. I suddenly feel very much reminded of a song I haven't listened to in quite a long time. Was it Simon and Garfunkel? I'd rather be a hammer than a nail. „Do you think... some of the other animals would actually like to be pigs, too? But just can't because, well, they are what they are and can't do anything about it?“

Alex gives me a somewhat blank stare.

„Maybe they can't physically turn into pigs, but, you know, they could just stop blindly following the pigs' instructions all the time. Nobody forces them to do that.“

„No? Aren't they kind of forced into their role because of their whole circumstances? Like you said, many of them probably aren't exactly... the smartest creatures. So they need someone who's smart enough to plan things and take the lead, right? They can't rebel against Napoleon because they're afraid. They need help, and it seems to them that Napoleon is the only one helping them.“ I look at Alex's sheet of paper again, at the extreme contrast between his first and second text. „You don't necessarily have to identify with the characters to write from their perspective,“ I then add. „I don't really identify with those characters either. I don't think there's anyone in that story who's like me. But I can imagine what it might be like to be in their position. At least a little.“ I look back at him, curious. „Don't you have that imagination?“

For a while, there is silence. I can see that Alex gets a little tense – not much, but visibly enough for me to notice.

„No,“ he simply says and pauses for another while before he explains, shrugging: „Why would I waste my energy by trying to imagine something that's not relevant for me? I have no clue how those farm-animals feel, and it will never be important to me how anyone feels who acts like that.“ That cold and somehow sarcastic smirk returns. „It's not like I don't enjoy fantasizing about certain things. I do have quite a good imagination, I can assure you. But not for this.“

„And what do you like to fantasize about?“ I ask, smirking as well now. „I can guess what kinds of things you like to think about, but still, I'd like to hear about it. What things are easy for you to imagine, and when does it get difficult?“

„Is that the psychology-enthusiast in you talking now? You want to analyze me, don't you?“ Alex seems a bit amused about that. „Alright. It's easy for me to imagine things that have to do with myself. I have no problem imagining myself in a different century or, like, in a fantasy-setting or something – as long as it's still me. Trying to imagine what some dumb sheep or chicken would think is something very different though. Look, they even have that big and strong stallion on their side – Boxer. He could probably kill all the pigs all by himself. I don't get why they need a leader, and I don't get why they need to keep everything in order necessarily. They want to survive and they want to be free, don't they?“ He sighs. „I do know that many people are like that, and for all I care, that's fine. Not my problem. But that doesn't mean I understand or can explain it.“

Another moment of silence. Yes, it does make a lot of sense, especially from the perspective of someone like him. I sometimes forget about his lack of empathy. He's so different when he's with me.

„You know... I get that. It can be very hard to try to put yourself in someone else's shoes, when that other person is completely different from yourself. But it can help if you find some common ground first. Consider if there might be something that the other person feels that you have felt as well at some point of your life. Even if it's something really basic. The situation doesn't have to be the same either. Don't you think you have at least felt the same emotion at some point that the animals on the farm are feeling?“

„Like... what?“

„Fear,“ I say. „Or helplessness. Feeling lost. I know that you always play the strong guy who's not afraid of anything. But is that really true? If I had to guess... I'd say you know what it feels like.“

Alex bites his lip and stares at the table. I didn't want to remind him of that day again that he probably tries to forget as best as he can. But even if we ignore that day, I'm sure there have been other things that have scared him throughout his life. And I want to know if he can project that onto others or not.

„Of course I know what fear feels like,“ he says after a moment but doesn't seem as confident as usually. „I never said I wouldn't. It's just... rare.“

„Is it really so rare? Fear doesn't always have to be something big. Our decisions are often influenced by our fears, in fact. For example... Let's say there's a girl. She had an exhausting week and really needs some time for herself to relax. But her best friend asks her if she wants to spend some time with her. The girl would like to say No, she doesn't have the energy for that – but she doesn't. She says Yes because she doesn't want to disappoint her friend. She's afraid her friend could be angry or hurt if she rejects her.“

„That devotchka is too weak to stand up for herself then,“ Alex immediately responds. I have to laugh a little.

„Yeah... Maybe. But it can be hard to stand up for yourself when your overall well-being partly depends on the people around you. If you're afraid to say what you really think because others could judge you...“ My thoughts trail off for a few seconds. Dammit. „If... the judgement of others becomes too frightening or outright threatening... it can even become impossible to stand up for yourself. Don't you think?“

Now he's the one whose thoughts apparently drift off. And I know why that is. And, yes, I did it on purpose.

„You know, Phil,“ he says slowly after another long moment of silence. He doesn't look at me. He looks at nothing. „Maybe there are... many things I'm actually afraid of. But I'm dealing with those things. Or at least I try.“ He smiles absently – a pained smile. „Remember that I told you about the nightmares I constantly had as a child? Really bad ones? Those nightmares often included snakes. They scared the hell out of me when I was a little malchick. But one day, I didn't want to be afraid of them anymore, so I read books about snakes, looked closely at their pictures and became... fascinated. Then I got my dear Basil, and, as you know, I'm definitely not afraid of him.“

I look at him in surprise as he tells me that. He had a phobia of snakes and then got himself one to overcome his fear? Admittedly, that's quite impressive. Alex lets out a soft giggle, apparently a bit embarassed, but he seems to trust me enough to talk about those things. And that makes me happy.

„Also... that might sound a bit absurd to you,“ he continues, and I can see a faint blush on his face, „but I... once had a nightmare of a certain man. A well-known man, that is. That dream was a bit like a movie, but I was in it, like, I was one of the characters, trapped inside there. And that man– I don't know how to describe it exactly, but he had very much power, like, he was some kind of... puppet master or something. But in a somehow... demonic way. Now, I'm not afraid of demons usually, I don't care much about that cal. But something about him was so... extremely intimidating. Like, he was able to make everyone's life end with a snap of his fingers, could've caused the apocalypse with a breath, could've made me freeze by giving me one of his... intense stares. That nightmare was bloody horrifying.“ Another little giggle. It's kind of cute how he's talking about this. Then he smiles at me, half-awkward, half-amused, as it seems. „Can you guess who that man was?“

„Hmm. Someone who's well-known, you say? Must've been a celebrity of some sort you saw on a picture maybe. Someone... who must've looked really intimidating, huh? Oh...!“ A way too loud gasp, followed by a strange laughing-sound, escapes me. „Is it... Beethoven?“

„Righty right,“ he responds, his typical crooked smirk on his face again. „Ludwig Van in all his glory. You can't imagine how much that dream scared me back then. And now... I enjoy remembering it. Because that's how I deal with my fears. I eliminate them. I turn them to my advantage.“

That's astonishing, I think to myself. He was a little child when he had those nightmares of snakes, he said. He must've been a child as well when he had that nightmare of Beethoven. Dealing in such a way with one's fears at such a young age is kind of... I don't know what to call it. It's absolutely fascinating to me.

„So things you fear turn into things you love,“ I mumble, more to myself. Is it always like that for him? Could it be he can only develop a sense of love for someone he... fears, in some way? Is he able to love me because this whole thing was scary to him in the beginning? Because he sees a figure of authority in me? I shudder involuntarily at that thought. Hesitantly, I reach out and place my hand over his which makes him wince very slightly. „Thank you,“ I say quietly, giving him a soft smile. „Thank you for trusting me like that.“

He raises his eyes to me, and he looks so... lost somehow. It makes me want to wrap myself around him and do everything to make him feel safe.

„Can I... sit on the couch with you while you play?“ he then asks very sheepishly. „I'd like to watch...“

My poor heart.

„Of course you can.“ I squeeze his hand. „Anything you want.“

He smiles back at me, and when I get up from the chair, he does as well and follows me to the living room.

Everything feels like a dream once again. Nothing really matters but his presence, his arms around me, his breath on my skin. Another night he's spending here, in my bed, without telling his parents where he is. And it's the first time we have sex since he was assaulted. Now that I think about it, it's only the second time I actually sleep with him in general. It feels like we've been doing this for years, like I've known him for forever.

He already was really clingy while sitting next to me on the couch, leaning against my shoulder and touching me the whole time. I didn't mind, of course. But I don't know how to react to it. I can't tell him how much I want to protect him and keep him close again and again, can I? I can't shower him with this sick, obsessive affection I feel for him all the time. So I don't react a lot at all, try to keep it to myself and just give him those stupid, awkward smiles now and then that aren't nearly enough to show him what he does to me. And it will only get more intense, day by day.

„Harder,“ he whispers, clutching at my shoulders. His body is tense.

„I don't... want to be rough with you,“ I respond between deep breaths, but he gives me a pleading look that I don't know how to resist.

„I want you to be rough... please.“ He squirms and strokes over my neck, his voice quiet and almost desperate. „Please...“

It's killing me. It's really killing me how much I want him, how much he's affecting me, and I don't feel able to say anything for a moment. I just nod and lean closer to him, kissing his neck softly, then his cheek.

„Tell me if it's too much,“ I say quietly, and he just clutches at me tighter and presses his body against mine with a little moan. I try to collect myself, to keep a clear head. I need to protect him, is the only thing repeating over and over in my mind. So I put my arms around his shoulders, lean my face against him and hold him as I start to move more, harder, and he whimpers, clutching at me so violently it's almost painful, his whole body shaking underneath me.

After a while, I notice there's really something wrong. He's way too tense and he looks... frustrated. I stop moving, worried he might associate this with his trauma – I'm worried about that constantly –, scared I'm making everything worse. I'm scared of that anyway, scared that I'm bad for him and shouldn't be doing this and really shouldn't have fallen for him in the first place.

„Hey,“ I whisper, stroking his shoulder. „Are you okay? We don't have to continue–“

„No, don't stop,“ he immediately says. It sounds shocked. Anxious. „I'm fine. Just... keep going.“

„You don't look like you're 'fine'...“

„I am. But I won't be anymore if you just stop now...!“ I look into his eyes and gasp slightly. Is he holding back tears? „Please,“ he says, wrapping his legs around me. He looks as if he wants to say more. But he doesn't. He just gives me that look that tells me he would fall apart if I wouldn't go on now. Taking a deep breath, I nod and give him a soft kiss before I reach down and let my hand slide over his stomach. Then further down, taking his cock into my hand. He's not even really hard anymore. And he looks ashamed because of that.

„Relax, okay? Don't stress yourself,“ I tell him, giving him another little kiss that makes him sigh softly in response. He shuts his eyes and pulls me closer. I love him. I love him so much. I can't think about anything else but him, it's making me go crazy. Just like his moans close to my ear as I continue to move, his hands moving over my back and his hips arching up with force, taking me deeper inside him as if he needs it, needs as much contact as humanly possible, and I can feel that he is growing hard again in my hand and relaxing a bit more despite whatever had made him so tense before. Still, I can see a hint of frustration on his face, maybe because it takes him longer to come this time, longer than he's probably used to, and I can feel that I'll be the first one to climax, the sensations of being so close to him, of being with someone who makes me feel all those things, still overwhelming. And when he grips my ass tightly with both hands, I really can't hold back any longer; it's like a hot wave of overstimulation washing over me, causing me to let out an embarassing noise while I come inside him after just a few more thrusts. He lets out a strangled moan as well, and I quickly try to get back into the present moment, taking some deep breaths before I close my hand around him again and jerk him off, not wanting to let him wait longer than necessary. He shifts restlessly, moves against me and groans, the desperate wish for release still obvious on his face, and when I feel him clenching around me and coming into my hand with a loud cry, it sends another shiver down my spine. He's lying there, his eyes closed and breathing heavily, and another small whimper escapes him as I pull out.

I don't know what to say. I don't want to destroy the mood by saying anything stupid. He gazes at the ceiling, the look on his face so absent, and I wonder what's going on inside of his head. I'm not sure if I should ask him about it though; what if he doesn't want to talk about it? So all I do is grabbing a tissue and softly wiping him clean before I lay down on the side next to him, just looking at him and caressing his chest. He still avoids to look back at me. But he places his hand on top of mine, and I can feel his heartbeat, just as I did the first night I've spent with him. It's so fast. I wish he would talk to me, I wish I knew what he's thinking, and I wish I wasn't so goddamn insecure and lost for words myself, wish I wasn't so overwhelmed with everything, wish I could give him more, be a little bit more. I wish I was someone else. But I'm not. I'm just me, and he is just him, and we keep lying there in silence, his heart beating against my palm, until I fall asleep.

It's such a weird feeling. I've no clue how to put it into words because no slovo on Earth could describe what I'm going through. It's nothing I've ever felt before.

There's him, leaning over me, all that love in his eyes, and he wipes his and my own cum from my plott with such careful motions, almost as if he's afraid I could break. I can hardly control my breath, my whole plott breaking out in shivers again and again, and I hate it. I can't stand it. He's so bloody gentle with me and so patient, I just want to cry. But goddamn, I can't. Why does it have to be this way? I wanted him to fuck me so badly, and now that he did, I'm a mess, a wretched, gloopy mess almost bawling my eyes out because of some fucked up feelings I can't deal with.

I love him, I think to myself. So, so much. God, I don't know how I should live if he wasn't there anymore. And I hate myself for thinking something so pathetic. There's no way he will stay with me. A nice person like him who probably couldn't harm a fly could never stay with someone like me. But the thought of that is too terrifying, so I push it away. Or at least I try. He's already seen me cry, he has seen me being unconscious and tied up, and he has listened to me talking about my nightmares, the most personal ones even. It's enough, isn't it?

Dear Bog, I just can't take it anymore.

Vaguely, I feel him stroking over my chest, another gesture so soft and loving I don't know what to make of it. It feels good, it feels really good. I put my own rook on his, press it to my chest to make that awfully soft stroking stop and just feel his skin, and nobody says anything, not him and not me. I can feel his warmth and sloosh his breathing that's getting slower and steadier now with each minute, and when I turn to him after a long time, his eyes are closed and he seems to be asleep.

„Phil?“ I say very quietly. He doesn't hear me. Or at least he doesn't react. I roll onto my side and, for a while, don't do anything but look at him. Watch him breathe. I'm so glad he's breathing. I'm so glad he's alive and real. „Don't ever leave me,“ I whisper to him which is so useless because he still can't hear me. But if he could, I probably wouldn't have said it anyway.

I keep lying there on my side and, after another while, lean against him, my litso against his chest, and I feel his hairs tickling my cheek. I don't know why that feels so nice to me, I really have no clue. How goddamn stupid. I close my eyes as well and concentrate on that stupid feeling until I manage to relax a little, slowly drifting away myself. And before I'm fully asleep, I can feel him shifting slightly and putting his arm around me, letting out a quiet sigh as he holds me so close. But luckily, I'm already halfway in the land of dreams, so I don't have to deal with the scary feelings he causes me for now; and a few moments later, my mind goes blank. Thank Bog.

Chapter Text

„What's it going to be then, eh?“ I hear the goloss of some veck from somewhere near our table. He's talking to his droogs while I'm sitting here with my own droogs, and we don't have to make a decision about what to drink, my brothers, we already have our drinks in front of us, and, oh surprise, it is good ol' Moloko Plus for each one of us.

Everything's just how it's supposed to be. There is Dim, Pete, Georgie and I, together in the Korova Milk Bar, enjoying the evening and, like so many times before, getting ready for a bit of the ol' ultraviolence. Nothing new, right? Just that I'm still not used to sitting here with those certain thoughts and feelings occupying my gulliver, and that I'm now not even thinking about Phil only – no, now there's someone else as well who's making me, like... kind of nervous, I must admit. And he's sitting right beside me.

„So, how was your week, brothers?“ Georgie breaks the silence, referring to his absence at school for the past few days. „Hope I didn't miss anything?“

Pete shakes his head slowly.

„Not really.“

„Oh yes, you have,“ Dim objects, giggling like the little child he is. „Alex's poem you did miss!“

„Essay,“ I correct him, rolling my glazzies. „A poem's something entirely different, my dear brother. But I shouldn't be surprised that you don't know.“

„What essay?“ Georgie asks, ignoring poor Dim's pouting face that he always makes when he realizes he doesn't understand anything going on in the world. I can't concentrate on poor Dim either. I can't concentrate well on anything, to be honest, when Georgie stares at me like that. „Was it something you did during English-classes?“

I'm quiet for a moment. Hoping that my litso looks as neutral as possible.

„It was about 'Animal Farm' yes,“ I respond, taking a sip of Moloko, trying not to think about the evening with Phil. „The ol' lady read it out loud. Lots of praise she threw at me. But it wasn't anything special really.“

It's true, she did praise me – both for my choice of words and the effort I've put into it (the essay about the pigs, that is, not the one about the sheep), especially compared to my recent, what should I call it... 'apathy' during classes. But I'm still too apathetic to really care about what some teacher thinks about anything I do. I've probably always been and will always be. The only thing I'm glad about right now is that neither Dim nor Pete mention that it wasn't even an essay we all had to write but something I wrote on my own. Because Georgie would immediately know that it was my private tutor/boyfriend/'uncle' who instructed me to write it, and we all know where that would've led the conversation.

Georgie just shrugs and takes a sip of his drink as well. Not without giving me another one of his intense glances, making me shudder, but luckily, not visibly. Again, it is silent between us all which isn't even a bad thing. Quite the opposite actually, it gives me some time to focus on my thoughts. Of course the silence gets interrupted quickly as someone enters the room, the Korova Bar being a quite popular place among us nadsats, and I can't suppress a malenky laugh when I see who's coming in. It's that pink-haired devotchka I've already taken home with me one evening. My grin fades though as I remember what fateful evening that was.

„Oh,“ I hear her voice as she spots me, giggling girlishly and running one rook through her sweet pink voloss. She comes closer and I smirk at her. „Hello, pretty boy,“ she says in such an overly cute manner, it makes me want to just instantly press her down to the floor and have her there. But I don't. Because I'm a civilized person, my brothers. Unlike Dim who's practically drooling while staring at her groodies. I give him a nudge with my elbow and he gives me that 'poor-old-Dim-pout' in response again, but I don't pay much attention to that. My attention goes to the sweet devotchka in front of me and I tip my hat to her.

„How nice to meet you here again. Susie, wasn't it? Ah, yes, how could I forget a lovely name like that? A lovely name for a lovely little devotchka!“

Once again, she giggles.

„If you had forgotten my name already, I would be really sad,“ she responds with a smile that looks equally shy and flirtatious. Almost as if she was screaming for me to fuck her right here, real horrorshow. How I would love that. I feel so sharpened up already, sharp enough to cut through a piece of meat with a mere blink of my eyes. How I would love to split her certain piece of meat real savage, o my brothers.

Susie sits down at the table closest to ours, always giving me those sweet, pining glances, and after a moment, I can sloosh Georgie clearing his throat right next to me.

„I think I'm quite thirsty,“ he says. There's something subtly aggressive in his tone of voice, and I think I can imagine why that is. Oh damn. „Anyone else want his glass refilled?“

Each one of us shakes his head.

„Later,“ Pete says. Dim nods enthusiastically.

„That devotchka over there is much more interesting now, isn't she?“ he says with his wide horse-grin, making Susie giggle for the third time with flushed cheeks.

„Oh yes, she surely is,“ Georgie mumbles. He really sounds a bit pissed. I actually don't want him to be pissed.

„Uhm...“ Susie clears her throat as well, playing with her hair again a bit sheepishly. „Do you have any plans for this evening, Alex?“ she asks me, blushing even more. „I mean... later this evening?“

„He does,“ Georgie answers for me. „He'll meet with me later this evening. I'm very sorry.“

I look at him briefly. He smirks.

„Oh, uh... Right,“ I say, laughing. „Righty right! No time tonight. But maybe some other time!“

„I see,“ Susie says and lets out a quiet, disappointed sounding sigh. „Then I hope you two will have fun later,“ she adds with a smile regardless. „What will you do? Just... hanging out?“

Pete and Dim look over to Georgie and me with curious faces, as if they wanted to know the same thing. My gloopy heart is racing again and I don't know who to look at, so I just stare straight ahead.

„Yes. Hanging out. Talk a little,“ Georgie replies for me and shrugs before giving me another smirk. „I wasn't at school for some days, so I need to ask Alex a few things. Maybe you'll let me read your essay you got so much praise for, Alex?“

He touches my shoulder and I almost make a really embarassing noise. Oh Bog, oh Lord. I'm so glad right now I'm wearing that codpiece. How can it be that Georgie's words and his touch turn me on even more than imagining Susie's nagoy plott on the floor?

„Weeell...“ I try to smile back at Georgie. But I probably look just as overwhelmed as I feel. „Of course you can read it, if you're... suddenly interested in such things.“

Just as he's suddenly interested in malchicks. In me.

No, it's not suddenly, is it? He's probably felt that way for years and just never said anything. And now that I know, it's simply impossible to ignore.

„You didn't miss anything, Georgie,“ Pete repeats himself, sounding a little skeptical. „At least nothing we couldn't very quickly tell you at school tomorrow.“

„Right,“ Dim then says, obviously confused. „Why would you two meet alone?“

„Is it so absurd to you that two of us sometimes want to do something without the rest of the gruppa, hm?“ I hiss at them which just seems to increase their confusion.

„Well... yes. It's something new, at least,“ Pete says, Dim just looking back and forth between him and me, sitting in the middle of us. Susie keeps looking at us with wide eyes for a moment and then turns away, probably realizing that this is none of her business anymore.

„Actually, it isn't really anything new,“ I respond to Pete, trying to stay calm and staring at my Moloko. „I've met Georgie alone several times before I even knew the two of you, remember? It's... not that special.“

„But you didn't even get along lately, did you?“ Dim asks, his litso really just one big question mark by now. „Thought you maybe weren't even real droogs anymore.“

„Is it because of that? Do you need to talk in private?“ Pete then asks. „Don't get me wrong, brother, I don't want to meddle in your affairs. Just curious.“

I'm getting so razdraz again, I can feel it. And I hate it. I wanted to zone out, have some fun. Drink some Moloko Plus with my droogies, as always, and see what the night has in store for us. Now, it seems like I'll spend the night with Georgie instead – which would be fine, it's not like Im not excited by that idea. But that curiosity of my other droogs, I don't like it at all.

„It's exactly that,“ Georgie intervenes. „Alex and I need some space to just... talk about some things. Come clean. Nothing to worry about.“

I nod, relieved that Georgie manages to be so calm, or at least appear like that. Pete nods, too.

„Right,“ he says. „I understand that.“

And after that, they don't ask any further questions – thank Bog –, even though poor Dim keeps looking real confused, apparently sensing somehow that something's a bit unusual.

We stay at the Korova for maybe 45 minutes longer, not talking that much, and then get out, a little earlier than usual because I'm too restless to just sit around this evening. Apart from that, we have our usual routine – looking out for some vecks who look like they need some nice ol' tolchoks and then crasting some; after all, a bit more deng never hurts. It's a normal night for the four of us. Until our night together ends and the only ones left are Georgie and me, Dim and Pete already gone, goodbye, wish you well and all that cal. I suddenly feel, like, three years younger again, my brothers, Georgie's presence feeling so... I don't know how to describe it. It's an old and a new feeling simultaneously, like we're getting to know each other for the first time again, just that we're, well, older now. And that there's now the underlying thought of him having those, well, feelings for me.

„Sooo,“ I say after a while as we're standing in the darkness somewhere in the streets. „You want to read my essay, hm?“

Georgie chuckles. I can viddy his own nervousness underneath the confident facade he tries to maintain.

„I am indeed a little interested in that. Must've been impressive if you got so much praise.“

Actually, she didn't only praise it. She also said it was kind of unnecessary to keep mentioning how mindless the farm-animals are. But whatever.

„I'd like to read it tomorrow at school,“ he then says, his confident mask now crumbling noticeably. „But now... let's go to my place, alright?“

To his place. Georgie and I alone in his room. I try to pretend that the thought of that – imagining what could happen there – doesn't make me even more nervous.

„Sure,“ I just say very casually, my mind already making up various scenarios, and I know I will soon find out if they'll become reality if I go with him. So that's what I do, and not much later we're in his apartment, or that is to say, in his parents' apartment. Unfortunately, Georgie doesn't live alone, and unfortunately, his parents also seem to be there. At least I sloosh him greet them.

„I'm home,“ he calls, followed by his Pe and Em's golosses greeting him back. They don't come out of the room they're in though, so Georgie and I just quietly go upstairs to his own room. Which feels so surreal since I hadn't been here for such a long time, and now it's the second time in just a few days. Last time I was here, he kissed me. I shudder again at that thought, and for a while, I don't do anything but standing there inside his room, in front of the door, and watching him take his hat, boots and codpiece off. Before he sits down on the bed and beckons me over to do the same thing. Which I do, taking my stuff off as well, probably looking very awkward while doing so. I can viddy Georgie's gaze going down to my crotch now that it's only covered by the fabric of my pants, and I also don't miss the quiet gasp that leaves his mouth as he obviously notices the effect he already had on me. What can I say, certain parts of me have a life of their own.

„You're... happy to be here, aren't you?“ Georgie asks with a smirk.

„I'm definitely not unhappy to be here,“ I respond, now smirking as well, and add teasingly: „You were real jealous of little Susie in the Korova, weren't you?“

His smirk turns a bit cold.

„No. I'm not jealous of a little devotchka who tries really hard to be cute.“

„Oh, really? I mean, we could've fucked her together, you would've been welcome to join me, brother.“

His mouth twitches a little. For some reason, that turns me on even more.

„I'm sorry, but I'm not in the mood to be your fucking-company. In case you forgot... I want to fuck you myself.“

„I didn't. I didn't forget that.“

How could I? The memory of what he said to me last time I was here is what already got me hard in the Korova, after all. The memory and his touch on my shoulder.

Georgie observes me for a while with a look in his eyes that makes me feel like I'm his prey or something, and I realize, I'm still just standing there in front of his bed, kind of paralyzed, probably because I would've never thought that I'd ever end up in a situation like this, with him, and simply have no clue what to do now. He seems to see that somehow and pats the spot next to him on the mattress.

„Come here,“ he says quietly, almost as if he's afraid his parents could hear him. Apparently, he wasn't worried about that when he said he wanted to fuck me. I guess he's just confused and very awkward. Just like me.

„Don't you want to lock the door?“ I ask him, mainly out of curiosity. He turns his litso towards the door, staring at it sort of anxiously, before he gets up and does as I suggested.

„So... you really... want to?“

He looks to me again, now both of us standing there like two absolutely useless idiots. I can't help but chuckle though.

„Is that really important to you? If I want to or not?“

„Well, I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important to me.“

„True. You would just... grab me and do whatever you please, and I wouldn't have a say in that, right?“

He's silent for some seconds and just smiles at me in a way that makes me shiver once again.

„Yes,“ he responds, whispering. „But you're not some random devotchka and it is important to me. It almost sounds like you want me to do exactly that though.“ Again, he smirks, and not in a cold way this time. I have no clue actually what kind of smirk that is. „Is that how you do it with Phil, too? Do you let him... grab you and do as he pleases?“

I hate myself for that stupid moan that leaves my mouth for whatever reason.

„Leave Phil out of this,“ I snarl, not sounding very threatening. No, I really don't want to talk about him now. I don't even want to hear Georgie saying his name. And I don't want to be reminded of how awfully gentle Phil is with me either, how he makes me feel when he treats me the way he does. I wish he would just grab me and be rough, as Georgie said, not so soft and loving and considerate and understanding. Damn you, Phil.

Georgie comes closer, seems to study me, every move I make or don't make, and I can't deny that it scares me. But that's what's so thrilling about it, isn't it?

„I...“ He swallows, looking to the ground. „I can't believe I can... have you all for myself now.“

He looks back up at my litso, one of his hands reaching out to touch me, but he's so hesitant, so bloody cautious, and I think he's scared as well, scared of touching me the wrong way maybe. So I try to make it easier for him by taking the initiative myself, placing one hand on his hip, but I quickly realize that I'm too nervous to do much more than that myself. It feels so strange, so... forbidden, in a way. I have spent so much time with him and never saw him as someone I would be sexually interested in. It's almost as if I'm touching a brother – which, ironically, isn't even so wrong, after all we always call each other that. Brothers. Droogs. And yet it's exciting me to no end, maybe because he's my droog I've spent so much time with, who has already performed the in-out-in-out with countless devotchkas in front of my eyes while poor me never had a clue what he's actually fantasizing about.

That careful touch of my hand seems to be enough to make him sigh with pleasure, and I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that he's taller than me. I've never paid much attention to that before.

„What would your parents do if they found out about... this?“ I ask, not even sure how I would feel about that myself. He laughs.

„I'm pretty sure they would send me to one of those camps to get cured by Jesus. Or rather by a bunch of freaky lewdies dancing around me and praying.“

„That doesn't sound fun.“

„It wouldn't be, no. They shouldn't find out about it under any circumstances.“ He says that with a somewhat sharp voice, like he means „Don't you dare even thinking about giving them any hint“. But that sharpness disappears quickly and he looks at me with that intense longing in his eyes again. „You have to... be quiet when I fuck you, okay?“ he whispers and grins at me softly, almost a little unhinged, and in some really strange way, I find that so appealing. Then he opens his wardrobe and fetches a large towel he spreads out on the bed, sitting down again and giving me an expectant look – a silent command. It doesn't take me very long to follow that command and sit down beside him, and I wonder if that makes me look like some good little puppy or something.

„And now?“

He seems to think for a moment, consider how to proceed, before he says, again with that mixture of dominance and softness:

„Take off your pants.“

I bite my lip slightly. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd see my magnificent torch uncovered, but this is, of course, very different from usual, so it takes me a moment to bring myself to do it, slowly opening my pants and pulling them to my knees, followed by my underwear. Georgie's gaze is instantly stuck on my cock. I shift a bit uncomfortably.

„I want to touch you,“ he says, now sounding all shy and innocent, and it's driving me crazy, this back-and-forth between dirty and awkward. On the other hand – I think I know someone who's pretty good at that exact same back-and-forth, too. Still, this is something else entirely. I try to give Georgie an encouraging smirk and have no clue how it really looks.

„I won't stop you,“ I tell him. „Touch me all you want.“

He smiles back at me, apparently flustered and with visibly flushed cheeks. And then... he doesn't only touch me. He gets down, with his litso between my legs, lets out a little moan, probably at the sight of my cock so close to him, and carefully takes it into one rook. I breathe in sharply as I watch him leaning even closer and placing a kiss on the tip of it.

„Oh God...“ I laugh shakily. „You're... You're really...“

I don't find the slovos to finish that sentence. Georgie looks up at me, raising one eyebrow.

„I'm really what?“

At least I manage to give him another one of those smirks that probably give away my nervousness very clearly.

„... into cocks,“ I then say, and he laughs as well.

„Well... yes. Is that still surprising to you?“

„No, it's not– Yes, it is actually.“ I shift again, clutching at the towel I'm sitting on. „I always thought you were straight. You can't expect me to... get used to this so quickly...“

„I always thought you were straight, too,“ he retorts, kind of smug. „And I never would have thought I would one day do something like this. Especially not... with you. But things change, don't they?“

Oh yes. Things have changed a lot. In several ways.

„I have thought a bit about it all,“ he goes on, now all contemplative. „About how it's... kind of weird that we both, which is half of our gang, turned out to be gay–“

„I'm not gay. I'm still very much attracted to girls.“

„Whatever. You get the point.“ He lets go of me and I immediately want his rook back on my cock. „Don't you think it's kind of a weird coincidence? But after thinking about it for a while last night... I wonder if many of the malchicks in those gangs are actually like that. They realize there's something wrong with them, they're not what they always were expected to be – and then they become a part of a gang and do all those manly things, like, fighting with other gangs and screwing lots of devotchkas... just to prove to themselves and everyone else how straight and manly they are. When they are in fact not. Don't you think that could be true?“

I stare at him, lost for words for some seconds.

„I don't know, Georgie. I don't fight others and screw devotchkas to prove anything to anyone. I do it because I want to.“

„Yeah... I didn't necessarily think that's the case for you,“ he says with a somewhat bitter smile. „You don't seem to have any problems with... your sexuality, after all.“

„That's right. I don't think I'm any less of a man because of it. Do you fuck devotchkas to make yourself believe you're straight?“

Now I see a flash of anger in his eyes, and I kinda wish I would just shut up sometimes.

„You say that as if it's totally absurd,“ he shoots back. „Yes, maybe that's actually been a part of the reason for me. I won't stop doing it anytime soon because, you know, I enjoy it, too, just like you. But I don't really... feel anything when I do it. Not what I want to feel. And I'm getting tired of pretending that fucking random girls or women is all I want. It is not. But it's hard to accept the things you actually want when you know that your family and probably everyone else, too, would call you a sicko for that. An abnormality, a mistake.“

He's really tense now, and, damn, I didn't want that. I sigh, really not sure how to respond to that. I don't want to upset him again; that would probably mean he would stop what he's doing and send me home.

„I... get what you mean,“ I say hesitantly. „But... why does it even matter to you if others would see you as an 'abnormality'? People view us like that anyway because we don't follow their precious rules and everything. We always just live the way we want to, right? Why do you care about their stupid opinions?“

Georgie's tension seems to fade a bit, but he still seems kind of uncomfortable. He looks away absently and then gives me another bitter smile.

„You care about what others think, too, don't you? Or why else have you constantly denied in front of Dim, Pete and me that there's something going on between you and your Phil-veck? You still try to deny it and don't want to talk about it, even with me. Even though you... know now that I'm...“

He stops mid-sentence, obviously not able anymore to say it out loud. I get a little tense as well. He's not wrong about this. And I hate that.

„I don't... want anyone to know about it because...“ I pause and stare at the window. „I don't know. It's... very new for me and I have no clue how to deal with it all. But I don't think that really has to do with Phil being a man. It's just that... I've never felt that way about anyone before. How should the others respect that when I don't even know what to make of it myself?“

Goddamn, I'm talking way too much. Stop it, Alex. Shut the hell up, don't get fluffy-puffy-sentimental now.

After a while of silence, I look at Georgie again with very, very mixed feelings, and for some seconds, I feel like I just want to disappear, be consumed by a giant black hole or something. But of course I'm still sitting here with my pants down and with Georgie kneeling between my nogas. And after a moment, he suddenly leans forward, grabs my cock again and puts his mouth around it while looking up at me with a somewhat... aggressive expression, I'd say. I gasp loudly, both at the feeling of his throat around me and the intensity of it all, and when he additionally grabs and squeezes and pulls at my yarbles with his other rook, an embarassing little whimper escapes me.

„Oh, fff– What the hell are you doing?!“ I groan, a little scared that he'll just rip something off me I'd definitely like to keep, but at the same time, my hips buck automatically, grinding against his weird touch which just seems to spur him on more. My fingers dig into the towel and I moan, until Georgie gives me another sharp look and I remember that I have to be quiet. It's a real challenge though. God, I think I will just come into his mouth if he keeps doing this. But he stops, pulling away with an even weirder expression (it looks like he has to keep himself from choking because maybe he demanded a bit too much from his innocent virgin-throat all at once), and he's panting heavily, still looking up at me with a certain... obsession, I'd almost say.

„You're loud,“ he mumbles, his goloss real hoarse now, sending another shiver down my spine. Then he slowly gets up from his kneeling position and sits down on the bed again. „Turn around now. And lay down.“

Crap, I think to myself, following his instruction again and laying down on my stomach, my heart now beating alarmingly fast. Why do I let him dominate me like that? Why do I enjoy it so much to be a submissive little slut, what's wrong with me? There's not enough time though to think about that any further. Because Georgie's rook grazing my skin is very distracting.

„God, I love your ass,“ he mumbles dreamily, his fingers sliding over my cheeks and down the rim in an almost worshipping way. I reflexively claw at the pillow I'm lying on with my upper plott.

„That's... a weird thing to say, Georgie...“

„Is it? I don't care.“ I sloosh him chuckle behind me, the sound giving me goosebumps. „I bet, Phil has already... been inside there, eh? Or was it the other way round?“

Now, that question actually makes me wince.

„No comment,“ I just say, but that seems to amuse him even more, and I'm not sure if I want him to shut his bloody mouth for Bog's sake, or if I want him to continue govoreeting stuff like that. I don't know what I really want anymore at all, I guess. I only know I'm turned on as hell.

„That response was very telling,“ he smirks – I can hear the smirk in his voice –, and after squeezing and stroking my ass some more, I feel one, no, probably two of his fingers pressing against me and pushing in without a warning, causing a really embarassing little cry to escape me before I quickly cover my mouth. „Maybe you won't even want to think about Phil anymore,“ he whispers, „after you've been fucked by me.“

I want to say something, anything, but I can't; there's only needy sounds coming out of the depths of my soul as he forces his fingers in and out of me, in and out, in and out, circumventing the fact that I'm completely dry by just doing it with enough force. And yes, my brothers, it's painful, but, hell, it feels so good, and the thought (the fear) of his hard cock tearing me open sends a jolt of arousal through my plott, so intense that it makes me whine in pathetic desperation. When I realize he's trying to add another finger and feel how he's already struggling with that because of the tightness though, I'm struck by a sudden feeling of dread at the thought of having him fuck me like this, so I turn to him and try to gather my thoughts, at least a little.

„You... you should use lube,“ I manage to get out, my whole litso burning at how utterly slutty I sound. „You... uhm... Just reach into my pocket. In my pants...“

Georgie looks back at me, apparently kind of irritated, but then pulls down my pants and shorts completely and reaches into the pocket as I told him. He lets out a little laughing sound as he takes a close look at the bottle in his hand.

„So you always carry that around with you,“ he says, and I just sigh deeply and close my eyes for a moment.

„You never know, right? I think... this right now is proof that it's always better to be, uh... prepared for everything...“

Silence.

„You're probably right.“

I hear him opening the bottle and then the wet sound it makes when some of the liquid is squeezed out. I won't tell him that I've already used it on myself as well. That would make me appear even sluttier, and I bet he would also get very jealous again if he knew that I've fantasized about Phil while impaling myself on whatever I could find. Or about random other human shaped creatures without a face, only serving the purpose to take me hard and recklessly and from every angle I could imagine. But mostly it was Phil.

Again, my body jerks when I feel his now lubed fingers rubbing against me and pushing inside for the second time, this time much easier and less forceful than before. Compared to Phil though, his touch is still rough, and I realize I can't help but comparing them, it just happens without me being able to control it. I also realize this is actually a part of the reason I'm even letting him do this with me – because I need to know if it feels different with him. Well, partly that, and partly the fact that I'm just way too excited and horny right now to not let him do it.

„I love the sounds you make,“ Georgie says – he's closer to my face than I thought – and instantly makes me let out another one of those sounds with his hand-movements that seem to get more deliberate and skilled the longer he keeps doing this, stretching me further and making me writhe. I smeck quietly again.

„First you say you love my ass... now the sounds I make. Seems you love a lot about me...“

Georgie pauses, as if to torture me on purpose.

„To be honest, you're not exactly the most lovable person I've ever met,“ he says, and I think I can sloosh a bit of bitterness in his goloss again. But despite what he just said, he leans even closer to me, runs his hand through my hair and touches my neck very... affectionately. „Still,“ he says, „for some reason, I'm so drawn to you. I've been from the moment we've met. I want to rip you to pieces and then put you back together.“ I turn to look at him once more, and the way he's looming over me with that sheer possessiveness in his eyes... It's frightening and arousing at the same time. „You have no clue what you're doing to me,“ he whispers before he pulls his fingers out with one quick motion, causing me to yelp and feel even more pathetic. His other hand caresses my face and his warm breath grazes my neck. „I want to hurt you,“ he whispers, even quieter. „I want to make you cry. I've imagined it so often, wondering if you're even capable of that.“

Oh Bog. He's going crazy. Is it really a good idea to go on with all this? No, fuck it. I need it, bloody hell.

„I... I am,“ I respond to him, faint and shaking. „I have actually cried a few times recently. Does that... make you hot? Do you get off on that?“

Georgie takes a deep shuddering breath.

„No,“ he says in a strangely soft tone of voice. „Because it wasn't me who made you.“

And then I sloosh him fumbling around with his plattis, probably taking his own pants off, but I don't viddy it, I can't, I can only stare at the pillow underneath me, waiting for his next step. I don't have to wait for too long, it's only some seconds until I feel his cock grinding against me, and for an instant, I forget how to breathe, a terrifying feeling of helplessness washing over me. A feeling I have felt before and don't want to think about ever again. And luckily, it vanishes quickly, and all that's left is this overwhelming desire to be fucked, deep and hard and brutal.

„Yes,“ I moan. „Oh shit, Georgie... Do it. Don't... be nice to me...“

He moans as well, apparently trying in vain to muffle his voice. Or maybe he doesn't even try anymore at all.

„Shut up,“ is all he hisses in response, but that hiss is so full of... I don't even know how to call it, maybe a mix of repressed emotions, probably even heightened by our drinks, the good ol' knife-milk we've had before we came here, and the next moment, I feel him grabbing my ass and pressing against me, his cock stretching me open so relentlessly it actually makes me sob out of reflex.

„Fuck!“ I cry out, my face buried behind my arms while I feel my poor, trembling plott trying to adjust, clenching around him with both lust and pain. It wasn't this painful with Phil. Even the first time wasn't, when I didn't know what to expect. Maybe because Phil took way more time to prepare me and never took the control from me completely. Georgie didn't take it from me either though – I just gave him the control, let him do this willingly. And I don't want him to stop. Whatever it is that's making me crave this so much, I want him to go on, use me, ravish me, until I really lose my mind.

„Oh my God,“ he groans and takes a short break, it seems, before he pushes inside completely, leaning over my back and taking shuddering breaths. I still can't comprehend this. At some moments, I somehow can, just accept this for what it is, and some other moments, I'm suddenly so aware of the absurdity of all this. Georgie's breath on me, his litso now pressed against my pletcho from behind, the feeling of him inside me and the thought that he's been waiting, hoping to do this with me one day, for such a long time – I don't know how to deal with it, I really don't know. I don't know how I feel about it, and I don't want to deal with any stupid feelings anymore, please, no. Maybe that's why I want him to fuck me so badly. Just rough fucking, no thinking about anything, no decisions anymore, nothing I need to keep under control. Until the need for control returns the next day and I go back to my normal self, to the Korova, to the old ultraviolence. I'm fucked up. I'm so fucked up.

„Are you... okay?“ I hear Georgie ask very hesitantly and quietly. I have to laugh a little, the contrast between this soft side of him and that ruthless, kind of creepy side makes it all even more absurd.

„I told you I don't want you to be nice,“ I mutter which makes him chuckle again as well.

„If you say so,“ he responds breathily (sounding real sexy, to be honest) before he shifts a little and then starts thrusting into me, at first kind of timidly, but after not even a minute, I guess, he's gathered enough courage to do it the way he's probably always imagined to do it. Passionate, if that's the right slovo. Similar to how I've seen him doing it with all the devotchkas before, but it's not exactly the same. With a devotchka, there's always a certain coldness in his eyes, just as I've observed it with Pete. Pete's eyes though, I think they look kind of empty, as if he's zoning out while he's doing it. Dim just has fun and giggles like a little boy with some very primal and very un-erotic grunts in between. Georgie, on the other hand, doesn't have that same blank stare that Pete has. He always looks cold, as if those devotchkas had offended him personally and as if fucking them was his way of punishing them for that.

What he does to me at this moment doesn't feel like a punishment, and it doesn't feel cold either. Maybe it's not solely affection he has for me. But he does feel something, he feels a whole lot, and I'll never be able to not notice that anymore. He shows it to me unmistakeably – what he can't tell me with words but can apparently very well with his plott. And it's making me lose my mind indeed.

„Shit,“ I moan once again, or maybe it's more of a whine. I shouldn't think about that any further. I'm pretty sure I wanted to say more than that, but Georgie literally reduces me to a wailing mess that's not able to form any coherent sentences anymore, only able to arch against him by instinct, desperate to feel more of him, to have him filling me as deep as possible, and everything else– I don't give a cal about anything else right now.

„Look at me,“ I hear him say, his goloss sounding like a power from another sphere talking to me from somewhere far away, and I can't resist it, brothers. So I turn my litso and look at him over my shoulder, shuddering heavily at his intense gaze. His mouth twitches slightly and his rooks grab me even more violently, as if they were claws holding me in place. „Fuck,“ he groans, „you look so hot. Keep looking at me like that...“

I don't want to know how I look right now, actually, but I don't really care much about it either. My only concern is how deep I can take him, how extremely good this feels, how high I am, dear Bog, and how much I want to keep feeling this, keep being this high, keep getting fucked, faster, harder, until I can't walk anymore for the next five or ten days.

„Oh damn, oh damn,“ I hear my own goloss blubbering out, not even sounding human anymore. „I'm... I can't take it any longer...“

Georgie doesn't respond to that, he just lets out a kind of feral sound that almost makes me melt, pulls at my hair and keeps pounding into me with a merciless pace. That's it for me, that's too much all at once, and my whole body gets shaken with quivers as I desperately grind against the surface underneath me and splatter the towel with an embarassingly loud moan, my nogas trembling so heavily, it almost feels unnatural. For a moment, I'm so utterly spent, everything around me and inside me just turns black, black, black, only static in my gulliver, but then I flinch again and hiss sharply when I feel Georgie reaching his climax inside me as well with some last few deep thrusts and a long, low moan that echoes inside my soul for what feels like an eternity. He stays there for a while, panting, just like me, until he slowly pulls out with another little moan that doesn't sound so feral anymore. I try to take a deep breath, collect myself, but I reflexively wince again as Georgie's hands once more grab my ass, spreading me wide open. I can feel his cum trickling out onto the towel, and the thought of him staring at it from close-up, getting this obscene view of my stretched and used hole, somehow makes me feel so fucking vulnerable. Maybe a bit ashamed even.

„What... are you doing?“ I ask him, the way I sound making it all even worse.

„I just...“ He pauses again. „I wanted... to make sure I didn't hurt you too much...“

That explanation makes me feel weird again; him caring about my well-being like that, treating me so bloody kindly right after he... well, after he did what he just did. I don't know how to react to that. So I just lie there and say nothing, still hiding my face in my arms, probably looking really wretched.

Eventually, I feel Georgie lying down on his side next to me, and there's a long silence again, a long, torturous, bizarre moment of emptiness that almost makes me wish I would just fall asleep. But I don't. I don't even feel high anymore, I feel nauseatingly sober.

„Alex?“ He says my name, way too softly. „Is it... okay if I... if I hug you?“

I cringe inside, my whole being convulsing. I want to smash something, tear something apart, and then something else. But after another deep breath, I manage to calm down at least a little bit and finally do something apart from just lying there stiffly – I roll onto my side, with my back facing Georgie.

„You may,“ I say quietly. I don't care. It doesn't matter. As long as he doesn't expect me to look at him. I can't.

Apparently, it takes him another moment to realize I gave him the permission to do what he wants. But when I feel him scooting closer with his arm wrapping around me from behind, I have to suppress another little moan, or something similar. He doesn't do anything apart from that, just lying there and hugging me, his plott pressed against mine like we're a cuddling, spooning couple. He's not hard anymore, but I still feel his crotch against me, and the feeling of all that makes my stomach twist, and I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad feeling.

„I wish you could stay here overnight,“ he says very quietly after a long while. „But maybe... you wouldn't even want that...“

Oh Bog, dear, fucking Bog. It's killing me. Why does it have to make me feel this way? Seems like I have absolutely no problem with getting screwed like a bitch, but being treated nicely, oh, that's the worst.

„I should go,“ I just say, kind of freaked out by how monotonously I say it. It doesn't sound angry, doesn't sound assertive. Just completely drained.

„No,“ Georgie instantly responds, his arm closing tighter around me like it's some kind of instinct. „At least... stay for a little while longer. I think you should, uhm... rest a bit.“ Then he adds, even quieter: „I was pretty rough with you, wasn't I?“

Oh yes, you were, I think, still picturing it so clearly in my head. I wonder how it must've looked from the outside, how it would've looked to someone standing in the room and viddying it all as a spectator. It must've been truly porn-worthy.

„I liked that,“ I say, not louder than him. He makes a sound I don't quite know how to interpret and, if that's even possible, clutches at me even more, pressing me to his chest. My heart starts beating faster again. I hope he can't feel it.

At some point I realize he's not going to say anything in response to that, even though it felt like he would. He's leaning against me, but only with his plott, not with his litso. Maybe, I think to myself, that's his limit, maybe that would be a malenky bit too much display of affection.

I close my eyes and try to relax, to rest, like he said I should. I don't know how relaxed Georgie is. And I really have no clue why I do it, but I slowly place my hand on his arm that's still wrapped around me, concentrate on the feeling of his skin, of this surreal warmth he radiates, and then I hesitantly take his hand into mine and squeeze it tightly. Maybe as an apology for having been a dick to him all this time. Maybe to let him know I'm sorry, even though I don't have a fucking clue if I actually feel sorry about anything. Yet, I keep squeezing his hand, as if it would help me ground myself somehow, but it doesn't really help me, and I notice how tense I am – how afraid I am. Afraid he could break the silence any moment and say something to me, something stupid like, hell, I don't know, something like „I love you“ maybe that I wouldn't be able to reply to. But he doesn't speak. He doesn't move anymore either. I think he's fallen asleep or maybe at least pretends to because he wouldn't know how to handle this situation if both of us were awake. How very relatable.

My tension fades a little, but I still hold his hand. Until I eventually get up and put my clothes back on, trying not to wake him up, if he's even actually sleeping. I stand before the bed and look at him, how he's lying there half naked, his arm still stretched out on the mattress in front of him. I was lying there only a moment ago. I'm the one he's been hugging like that, with this expression I've never seen on his litso before.

I keep staring at him for a bit longer – I couldn't say for how long really. Then I sneak out of his room and down the stairs, carrying my boots with my rooks to avoid making any noise. But his parents don't notice that anyone was here, and I'm gone before anyone or anything can stop me.

Chapter Text

Georgie was right. I probably should've rested for a malenky bit longer and not walk straight out into the night after just some minutes of lying there. My nogas were all shaky, I almost thought I couldn't keep myself upright, and of top of that, I must admit, a certain part of my plott really hurt. The thought of that – of how mercilessly he's shoved that not so small cock of his inside me and made me suffer in all the right ways – still makes me hot; it sometimes makes me moan randomly whenever those thoughts return to my gulliver, and I have to try really hard not to stare at Georgie in a very telltale way when Pete and Dim are around. It's a challenge, but one I absurdly enjoy. Georgie seems to enjoy it just as much, even though I'm wondering if he actually wishes it was something more than what it is. More than just the ol' in-out, I mean.

Since that night in his room, weeks have passed, and I've spent time with both Phil and him. Not with both of them together, of course – I doubt they would get along very well. Phil and I have met once or twice a week because of the whole private-lessons-thing, him being the sweet and caring goodie-goodie that he is, constantly trying, in his signature awkward way, to be as helpful and considerate as possible. I wish he wasn't like that. I wish he was more like Georgie. On the other hand, Georgie sometimess seems to turn into Phil 2.0 when he gets too overwhelmed with the fact that he can be close to me, touch me. He suddenly becomes a softie as well (after fucking my brain out, that is), and I don't know what to think about that, my brothers.

It is quite interesting though to have that direct comparison between them, as I've had the in-out with both of them with just one day in between during the past weeks. Well, no, that's not quite right. Only what I had with Georgie can be called 'in-out' actually; with Phil it's been rather some cuddly sort of making out recently, without putting anything inside anything – if we even did anything sexual at all. I get the feeling he doesn't really want to fuck me anymore. Or maybe he would like to but thinks he shouldn't because I'm too traumatized or some cal like that. Which makes me hate stinky Billygoat and his droogs even more, imagining how it could've been between Phil and me if those things hadn't happened. If he hadn't seen me in that completely vulnerable position. If he hadn't carried my unconscious plott to his apartment. It all sucks so much. It sucks beyond measure.

So, what should I do now, I ask myself, like, pretty much every day. How should I proceed? Going to skolliwoll at daytime, then meeting my private tutor on some days to learn more skolliwoll-stuff with some innocent kisses in between, then meeting me droogies in the evening, enjoying some ultraviolence, and then having a private meeting with my special droog Georgie afterwards to let him bang me for a while before I go to bed – is that my new daily life? Well, I think it could actually be worse.

But what bothers me about it all is that I just never know if things will stay like this or if the next moment of drama is just lurking around the corner. I don't know what Phil expects from me and neither do I know what he really feels. If he wants this to go on between us or not. If he wants us to keep acting like we're both some ten year old, pure-hearted children with no sexual desire, or if he only wants that to last for a certain amount of time. I have no clue what he's thinking and I try not to think too much about it myself. It only leads to more drama.

Same with Georgie. What does he expect from me? What does he feel or think when he's lying next to me after the ol' in-out, asking me to turn around and look at him and then pulling me close to himself with his rook caressing my back? What the hell does he feel? What do I even feel? When I stay with him overnight, his Pe and Em being away, sleeping in his bed until the next morning, just like I've done it with Phil several times – what does that make us, I wonder? I couldn't even say if I like it or not. I do like it for sure when he rips my platties off, commands me around with that sexy, firm goloss and then nearly makes me scream. I liked it a lot how he dragged me into the living room when his family wasn't there and we had the whole place for us, how we fought each other, scratching and pushing and pinning each other to the ground, until I finally let him gain the upper hand and have his way with me, fucking me against the dining table while holding me down by my neck. Holy crap, I loved that. But when he told me one time he would let me top him as well? Oh, no. Not enjoyable. Not with the look he gave me while telling me that, the vulnerability and trust in his eyes. I just know he wouldn't want that for the same reasons I do; he doesn't seem to have those masochistic tendencies that I apparently have – he just wants to take it to the next level, strengthen that 'bond' between us, feel close to me. And that feels bloody weird. Not good and not bad. Just weird. Like, it's making my gulliver explode. It's... too much.

Anyway, brothers. It is now May, the wet and chilly winter-ish weather finally turning to everyone's beloved spring(almost summer)-time, and on this warm and bright day, I am again sitting at Phil's table, gazing out the open window and sipping an alcohol-free milkshake he bought for me. Today he helps me with maths. Super-interesting. So interesting that I'm not even sure which topic it is we're learning now. After probability theory was over, we started something new, but what was it? Oh, yeah – linear functions, that's it. Phil keeps talking about lots of letters, 'f's and 'x's and 'y's, and I nod, taking another sip of my drink, wondering what he might've looked like in school and if he already was the same sweet and caring malchick when he was my age.

„Hey...! Are you listening?“

I look at him, how he's supporting his head on his hand in front of me, squinting his eyes a little as the sun shines in on his litso. His long brown hair is falling over his shoulders and almost looks like it's glowing in that light, and I can't help but think how beautiful he looks in that moment. Like someone in a painting, not a real person. Way too beautiful for me.

„Yessir,“ I respond to him, a little delayed. „I'm trying, at least.“

„You can't really concentrate, right? That's okay. We can take a break, if you want.“

„Hm.“

„'Hm'?“ he repeats, laughing quietly, before he observes me for a moment. I only see it from the corner of my eye, I'm looking out the window again. „How's it going in school?“ he then asks hesitantly. „Did the private lessons so far help you in any way?“

I turn back to him, suddenly a bit tense.

„I guess it helped. Kind of.“ I shrug. „My teacher liked the essay you made me write.“

„Oh, I'm glad,“ he says, smiling. „But you still can't focus so well...?“

One more shrug.

„It's boring. I already know that I'm an intelligent individual, Phil. And I remember that you agreed with me about teachers not always being blessed with the gift to teach.“

He sighs, apparently not sure how to respond to that. I bet he completely understands what I'm saying and feels the same way but doesn't want to admit it. Or he thinks to himself that I'm making everything so unnecessarily difficult and feels real bad for my teachers and my parents and everyone who's trying to teach me anything or take care of me in any way, himself included. I don't want to know what he's thinking, honestly.

Then suddenly, I have a strange feeling; the feeling that something's off and that I shouldn't be here. It's hard to place, but the next moment, I realize that I quite literally shouldn't be here at Phil's this afternoon.

„Shit,“ I mumble. „Totally forgot I wanted to meet my droogies in... in a few minutes, actually.“

„Really?“ Phil stares at me in disbelief as I get up from the chair, putting my boots back on. „You come here to have your private lessons, barely even participate, and then tell me you need to meet with your droogs?“

„Well... yes. Appy-polly-logies.“

„How can you forget something like that? Don't you make notes or anything?“ he asks uncomprehendingly.

„Notes for when I want to meet someone? Actually, no.“

I walk to the door, but Phil puts his rook on my shoulder, so I turn around once more.

„What's wrong, Alex? You're so... I don't know. Cold? Did I do anything wrong?“

I tense again. He thinks it's his fault. And he's not even so wrong about that, but I can't tell him that. I don't know how.

„It's alright,“ I just say. „You know... That's just how I am, in fact. And I get that I'm not easy to handle for... a guy like you.“ I give him a little smirk because I don't know what else to do. „I'll be back next week. See you.“

The confused look he gives me in response stings a little. But I ignore it and just move out the door before I've even finished my milkshake.

What the hell went wrong, my mind repeats over and over again, why does he behave like that? Why is he like that?

I watch Alex walking out the door, standing there kind of dumbfounded, wondering if I missed something, if he's angry at me, if he's keeping a secret, or if he just has mood swings. Or maybe he just realized he needs his milk really badly right now. I would laugh to myself, the thought of that sounds funny in a way – but it isn't actually. It reminds me too much of someone else who needed certain substances really badly, and I don't want Alex to end like that someone.

So, after another short moment, I spontaneously make a decision – I will follow him. Being spontaneous or impulsive usually isn't my thing. But in this case, I can't fight it. I need to know where he's going, if he's really meeting with his droogs, and if so, what they're going to do. Maybe I need to see it with my own eyes. Maybe I need to see that this is all real.

Luckily, I still have my shoes on from when I was grocery shopping earlier, and it's warm enough to go out without a coat, so I can leave the house just as I am. Which I do, as quietly as possible, and after looking around briefly, I already spot him in the distance. Cautiously, I follow him down the street and then stop, irritated, when I realize that he's going home. For a moment, I wonder if he told me he needed to meet with his droogs as an excuse because he simply wants to be alone and needs some time for himself, just like I have done myself the first time we've met. I was overwhelmed and needed to be on my own, as much as I enjoyed his company, but of course I didn't know how to tell him that. Could it be it's the same for him now? That would be kind of relieving actually. But after just one or two minutes – even before I can decide to leave it be and go home again myself –, he comes out of the building, and I quickly make a few steps backwards so he won't see me. He's wearing his hat and white clothes now and carrying his black cane, I notice. He just went home to change his outfit. Why would I assume he's like me anyway? He isn't, I should know that by now, or else, he definitely wouldn't do the things he does.

Alex walks into a different direction now and I keep following him, trying not to think anymore, just walk. After probably half an hour of walking though, I seriously wonder where the fuck he's going. Especially when the area surrounding us seems to become more and more secluded and... green.

He's walking towards a really old and abandoned looking building – is this some kind of lost place? –, and the next moment, I see his gang emerging from somewhere behind the trees, all dressed in those white clothes and black hats. And there's also another person, I notice, who isn't wearing that same kind of clothing. A girl.

„There you are, droogie!“ one of the guys shouts, the one standing next to the girl, and I realize how confused she looks. Anxious even. „You're quite late, aren't you? We almost gave up on you.“

„Sorry, my brother,“ Alex says in response, approaching the guy next to the girl – I think it's the one called Georgie. „I must admit that I temporarily forgot about our little meeting here. But here I am, ain't I?“ He eyes the girl with a grin that sends a shiver down my spine. „And what have we here, hm? What's your name, pretty one?“

The girl looks at Georgie, then briefly at the others and back to Georgie, her eyes full of insecurity.

„What's going on here?“ she asks him with a shy smile and a quiet voice. I can barely even hear her from where I stand. „I thought we would be alone...“

I think that's what she said. Georgie pats her shoulder, smirking. Alex chuckles, and so do the other two. It's almost painful to look at this scene, I already feel bad for her. Should I chime in? But they haven't really done anything yet...

„Well, we were alone before,“ Georgie says. „And now I want to introduce you to my dear friends. What's so bad about that?“

„Surprise!“ the bigger one shouts – I'm not sure about his name – and giggles in a really childish way that almost makes me wince. The remaining guy – Pete? – just stands there like a quiet observer, smirking very slightly to himself which is creepy in its own way. This boy stood in my door frame a few weeks ago to look after Alex. He was so polite and nice. And now he's here as a part of this gang, lurking in the shadows like a predator. Just like Alex himself.

The girl says something, again with a really quiet voice, and I don't understand her. She looks young, probably about the same age as Alex and his friends, and I wonder what's happened before, what that Georgie-guy told her to make her come with him to this abandoned place. Did she think this would be some sort of romantic date? Oh boy.

„You worry too much,“ I hear Alex say to her (he also calls her something at the end of the sentence, one of those Nadsat-words, I suppose) and he reaches out, strokes over her face with one hand and leans closer, eyeing her with obvious interest. „This is going to be fun, I promise you. We're gonna get along so well. Right, right, my brothers?“

„Right, right,“ they all reply like some sick kind of hive-mind. The girl tenses visibly, it's really obvious how uncomfortable she feels – of course she does! – and she makes two hesitant steps backwards. Georgie grabs her wrist though, and I'm probably just as tense as the girl, standing here like a coward, frozen, lost, scared and angry. Shocked. It's not that I didn't know what those teenage gangs are capable of. I knew about the things they do. I knew that Alex is a part of all this, too. And yet, witnessing it like this, seeing what he really is like when he's not with me – it crushes me. I guess I really just wanted to believe very badly that he's different from those other bullies and criminals. Better than them. I thought he could change. If he could feel empathy for me, then why not for others?

But I'm a fool. I'm such a fool to think someone like him would change just because of me, or because he's been in the role of a victim himself. He won't. He won't change. He's cruel and sadistic and cold, and he doesn't feel a thing, doesn't give a crap about other people. And I just don't want to see that because I'm hopelessly in love with him. What a stupid, goddamn fool I am to fall in love with an unhinged, psychopathic teenage criminal.

The girl's voice jolts me out of my paralysis, makes me flinch actually when I hear her cry out in fear („No!“ she says, now louder, „Stop it! I don't want this!“) and my feelings of shock and anxiety are suddenly replaced with a strong sense of disdain as I watch them gripping her, pulling at her dress, laughing their evil laugh like this is funny in any way, like this is really just a game to them. And I can't watch this scene any longer. I need to do something.

„Hey!“ I shout, immediately causing them all to turn around quickly.

„Shit,“ Georgie hisses. „Let's get away from here!“

All of a sudden, they're in a rush, and, thankfully, they let go of the girl who's now running away while Georgie and the others get ready to run as well, in a different direction. Only Alex seems to hesitate; he's just standing there, frowning. Pete grabs his shoulder and whispers something to him, probably something like „Come on“ or „What are you waiting for?“, but Alex turns to him, way too calm, and I think what he says is „Run. I'll follow you later“ or something along those lines. Pete gives him one last concerned look, the other two already far away. I don't know if they have even noticed that they're not complete, they're probably too focused on getting away from here, too worried about getting caught, too high on adrenaline and whatever else. Then Pete disappears as well, Alex now being the only one left here, and my heart starts to pound heavily when he turns into the direction where I'm hiding behind a tree. A particularly broad one. It's no use pretending that I'm not here though, I know that he knows it. And I hate that it's making me so nervous.

„You can come out,“ he says, loud enough for me to hear him clearly but not exactly shouting. „You didn't think I wouldn't recognize your voice, did you? I'm just curious how the bloody hell you found me here, darling.“

I shudder. Maybe I shouldn't have followed him. Maybe I shouldn't have confronted myself with the dark truth of what the guy I call my boyfriend really is. It was all wrong from the beginning, I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be a part of all this at all. But I can't escape now. So I step out of my little safe space and face him. He smirks. I want to throw up.

„You were acting strangely,“ I say, my hands shaking. „You disappeared so quickly. So I... followed you.“

Alex chuckles briefly, playing around with his cane. It's a very humorless chuckle though.

„You really are kind of a creep, Phil, aren't you? Following me here and watching us...“ He comes closer to me and I really have to fight the urge to step back. „Did you enjoy the show, hm? Was it a turn-on?“

„A turn-on? What... What the hell is wrong with you?!“ My hands clench into fists now. „It's disgusting! How can you do those things to others? You've even been in that position yourself! You know how it feels to be a victim, to be helpless and surrounded by guys who see you as not more than a toy... How can you do the exact same thing to innocent girls and feel good about it?“

He stares at me, his expression now somehow... grim. He doesn't say anything for a while.

„They're not innocent. That's what you need to learn, Phil. Nobody's truly innocent,“ he responds quietly. „Yes, they scream and cry and tell you to stop and everything. But in fact, they want to be destroyed. They beg for it. And even if they really don't want it...“ He shrugs. „Why should that be my problem? They don't tell the millicents anyway, they don't do a thing to prevent us from having our fun with them. So tell me one reason why I should care.“

I stare back at him, trying to process what he just said. Can this be real? Does he really feel this way about others?

„You're sick,“ I say, a shaky laugh escaping me, my whole body almost going numb. „You're... really absolutely sick. You don't... feel even a little bit of empathy for anyone, do you? You just enjoy seeing others suffer. You don't even see them as real people, do you?“ Another one of those unhinged, shaky laughing-sounds. But how should I remain sane in a situation like this? „I think I know how it is,“ I go on, my eyes not leaving his face. „You really don't see people as living beings, right? You see them as pawns, as puppets. Things that only exist for your own entertainment. Because the only real person on the planet who deserves to be treated respectfully... that's you, right? In your twisted mind, that's you and nobody else. Because all the others – they're just empty shells, isn't that how it is? They're just sheep. They don't matter.“

Alex returns my gaze for a moment. Then his eyes dart to the ground.

„Did you ever get the feeling,“ he asks, „that I didn't respect you?“

„Well. You did act in a kind of dismissive way towards me today. And then, out of nowhere, you interrupted our private lesson and rushed out of my apartment – and for what? To assault a girl in some lost place with your 'droogs'. I was trying to help you. I really cared about you. But having a fun little gang-rape is apparently more important to you than that.“ I smile at him, trying to fight back tears. „Would you call that 'respectful'?“

It's silent for an unbearably long time. Then, suddenly, he starts to laugh in a shaky way himself.

„Well, what did you expect from me?“ he asks. „You knew how I am, and you still weren't put off by that, were you? Then that's on you, I'd say! I never tried to make you believe I was a better person. Never. But for you, I do feel respect. I really do. Believe me or not.“

„Yeah? Maybe for a while you did, in some way. But I think you lost your respect, because I'm not enough of a thrill for you anymore, am I? And isn't that how it works in your brain? You can only feel love for someone you deeply respect, and you only feel respect if you also feel a certain kind of fear – or have at least felt that at some point. Because that's the only way you can see someone as a truly living, thinking creature, right? When they scare you.“

Another while of silence. He looks as if he's thinking about that, considering if that could be true, and he's still staring at the ground or at nothing. Then he raises his gaze to me again with a strange smile, probably similar to the way I've looked at him myself before.

„You think you got me all figured out, eh? Psycho-analyzing me like you're my therapist. You're not my goddamn therapist, Phil. And, you know – I don't need one, not at all. This is how I am. Simply because I like to be this way. There's nothing to analyze. I'm just a prick who doesn't give a fuck about others, you said it yourself – and you won't change that. You can't 'help' me. But you know what you can do?“ He steps closer to me, my pulse quickening again, for various resaons. Then he leans forward, his hand gripping my shirt. „You can show me how much you despise what I do,“ he hisses, the way he looks at me making me shiver again with an absolutely overwhelming mixture of emotions. „You can show me that darker side of yours I got to see in the beginning, you remember? When you still viewed me as a threat, as someone who needs to be punished instead of a helpless little victim you need to take care of.“ His grip tightens and his eyes narrow. „I'm not a sweet, malenky child that needs to be protected. I'm not your little bloody stuffed animal. And if you hate so much what I am, well, stop behaving like a wimp and be a man.“

I scoff. Even though I feel intimidated. Intimidated and angry at the same time, at both him and myself, and I think I really hate him in this moment.

„What should I do now to act like a 'man', in your opinion?“ I ask him quietly. „Behave like you? Do you want me to beat you up?“

„You know what I want from you. You know it. If you can't even do that, what do you even need me for?“

„You want me to fuck you? Right now?“ I scoff again. This is so absurd. This is crazy. „Goodbye, Alex,“ I say and turn around, but I don't get far because he grabs me again, this time my wrist.

„Oh, you want to walk away now? Something gets a little inconvenient and you immediately need to run from it, eh?“ He yanks me around to face me again, making me gasp sharply, and the twitchy, completely insane grin he gives me makes me want to run all the more. I don't want this. No. Please. „Be a fucking man, Phil!“ he shouts at me. „Show me that you're not the biggest fucking disappointment of my life! I can't believe I've fallen for such a softie, such a square. You're a goodie-two-shoes, always trying to play the good guy, aren't you? Always afraid you could be a 'freak' if you behave otherwise.“ He pronounces the word 'freak' exaggeratedly, as if he thinks it's the worst thing ever for me to be seen as that. „I know you're more than that,“ he goes on. „You are a freak, just like me. You just try to hide it. Because you're afraid, all the time, of fucking everything!“

I stand there, frozen – again. When something very unexpected happens, something I don't know how to handle, I just freeze, that's how it's always been. I hate it.

„What, you lost your abbility to speak now?“ Alex goes on – he goes on and on and on. I can't react for a way too long time, just stare at him, not even able to walk away anymore. And then he smirks at me, slides his suspenders over his shoulders and apparently starts to undress himself, at least partly. He can't be serious, I think to myself. Not now, not in this situation. But obviously, it really is what it looks like – he wants sex. And I shouldn't even be shocked about that, because, isn't that what he always wants? I'm such a fool for having seen him the way I did. For believing he would have real feelings for me and not just the desire to experience something exciting, try something new.

„You can keep standing there and watch me, I don't mind,“ he says, pulling his pants and underwear down before sitting down on the ground, spreading his legs and touching himself, still looking up at me. „We were about to have fun with that little devotchka, and you disrupted us. So you will probably understand that I'll have to get my satisfaction still.“ His hand closes around his cock and he lets out a quiet growl, then a breathy chuckle. „Or maybe you don't understand it. I don't care. I really. Don't. Care.“

Minutes pass, or maybe it's just one single minute, I have absolutely no clue. My eyes are glued to Alex and what he does, but I'm actually staring at nothing; my brain doesn't really process the fact that I'm standing here like a statue after I've just caught him and his gang assaulting a girl, and that he's now masturbating in front of me with no regrets. But even though I struggle to fully comprehend what's happening – what this all means –, I do see everything that's going on, I see how he closes his eyes now and then and how he stares into mine when they're open, panting and moaning, as if that's his way to communicate with me, to tell me something just with those stares. I just don't know what it is he wants to tell me. He's right, I don't understand him. I don't understand and will never understand how anyone can act like he does, how anyone can be so cruel, to destroy others' lifes by treating them like shit without feeling guilty in the slightest. How can people be such monsters? Why do they get pleasure out of hurting others? Does he really have no conscience, does he not feel anything, does he not understand the extent of harm he causes?

No, I suddenly think. Somehow he must understand it, he must be able to feel empathy – I've seen him with Caleb. He was soft with him, he smiled at him, a very genuine, sweet smile, as if petting my cat truly made him happy. He would never want to hurt Caleb, it occurs to me. He surely knows that he could hurt him easily, but the way he smiled at him, I just know that he wouldn't. And that's not because he is scared of him, he didn't mention being afraid of cats, and it certainly didn't look like he was. It's not because he feels that deep kind of respect rooted in some sort of fear. It's simply because he likes Caleb, a creature that is smaller and weaker than him and needs to be protected.

He can feel empathy. He probably also feels real empathy for me. So why not for others? If he's capable of feeling it, if he understands the harm he causes... why does he do those things?

Because he just doesn't care, I think. He cares about Caleb and me because he likes us, but people he doesn't like or respect (those who are just sheep to him) – they simply have bad luck when they cross his path.

I tense. And with every moment that passes, every moment he keeps having his fun down there in front of me, the tension increases.

„Stop it,“ I say, way too quietly. I don't even know if I'm saying it to him or more to myself. All of this has to stop. All of it.

„Huh?“ he responds, not taking his hands away from his body. „Stop what?“ He smirks. Again. „Jerking off? Looking at you? Existing? You have to make yourself clearer.“

„All of this,“ I mumble. „Why do you play with me like this? Making me believe that we... get along. That we're alike in some way.“ I feel my hands trembling. „You talked to me as if you... would care. I have seen real emotions in you. And now you're... just a machine.“ I'm probably smirking as well now, a very, very bitter smirk, as I add with a quieter voice: „Just a fucking bully...“

He indeed stops now. I don't know if my words affect him in any way. I can't read his expression. But he gets to his feet and pulls his pants back up, and something in his mood seems to have shifted.

„A fucking bully,“ he repeats, standing before me now. Even though I'm taller than him, it feels as if it's the other way round, as if I'm small and helpless and cornered. „Could it be that perhaps you were bullied in school?“ he then asks, and the question makes me cringe inside. That amused smile he gives me (it looks evil, it just looks evil) makes it even worse. „I think that's how it is. You had to deal with malchicks like me, right? When you were my age, I mean. Real bad malchicks, weren't they? You were a victim. And you still viddy yourself as one.“ He makes one step forward, his smile looking outright wicked to me. „And now you're reliving it all,“ he whispers. „Poor, poor Phil. Never growing out of your victim-role. Always the sweet veck, misunderstood by everyone, lonely in this cruel, cruel world. Always getting pushed around. But maybe, deep inside your heart, you're enjoying this role. Why else would you have chosen a veck like me as your lover? You're the true masochist of us two.“ My heart pounds too heavily. „Admit it,“ he says with an even quieter, softer voice. He really is convinced that he's right about this. But he's not. He is so wrong, so, so wrong.

„You're... trying to hurt me,“ I respond, just as quietly. „You want to hurt me on purpose. Why? Because you want to see me getting angry, is that what you want? Me getting angry at you, so I'll do something... violent?“ He doesn't say anything. But I think that I've nailed it. I look away. „That's pathetic. You... really need help.“

For a brief moment, he looks away as well. Then, suddenly, I see a movement from the corner of my eye, and before I know what's happening, he has lashed out and pushed me to the ground, so quickly I couldn't even defend myself. I stop breathing for some seconds and my eyes shut automatically, my hands coming up to shield myself, my whole body going stiff. I lie there for a while with my eyes closed, protecting myself out of a reflex that has apparently never disappeared – until I realize, he doesn't do anything more than that. He's leaning over me, his arms on either side of my face, looking down at me. But he doesn't attack me. And I feel so weak, so stupid for having thought he would. I'm the pathetic one now.

„Wow,“ Alex says, studying me. „You really are a victim. You think I would hit you, eh?“

I tense again, and I tremble, more than before. I hate this. I really do.

Alex doesn't speak anymore and there's a strange, heavy silence. I open my eyes, anxious to look at him. Then he moves his hand slowly to touch my face, but I push it away, my body physically not being able to let him so close to me. His expression changes, just for a tiny instant, when he realizes that I've pushed him away. There's a certain disbelief in his eyes, a certain kind of shock.

„Do you... hate me now?“ he asks, and I let out a weird, overwhelmed noise. I do feel some kind of hate towards him, some deep kind of disdain for the things he does and his ignorance about it, his extreme self-centeredness. But at the same time, it breaks my heart to hear him utter such a question.

„I don't know,“ I say, my voice breaking. And that's all I am able to say. He seems to get restless.

„Phil,“ he then says, so softly it absolutely tears me apart, before his expression and his tone of voice get more aggressive again. „You think I've... played with you, huh? You think I lied to you by making you believe we would get along? Well, what about you? I could say the same about you, couldn't I? You took me with you that one nochy, warned me that you might get a little obsessed with me and that I should run if I feel uncomfortable in any way. Remember? But I didn't want to run. I loved it. And then you tied my rooks which I loved as well and later gave me the best fuck I had ever experienced. The next day you continued to impress me in the shower. It all felt... wonderful.“ He chuckles briefly. „And then? Nothing of all that anymore. Nothing. You treat me like a bloody child. You think you're acting so responsible by taking care of me and being so goddamn soft with me and everything, eh? Because I nearly got raped by some stinky arseholes and you found me while I was at my lowest. But you know what? Had I known that you would treat me like that, as if you were my Pe and Em in one person instead of the veck who's supposed to screw me – I wouldn't have started anything with you in the first place. I really wouldn't have.“ He takes a breath, tensing himself now, and then whispers: „You made everything worse. You fucked everything up...“

His words echo in my head. I fucked everything up. Yeah. Sure. I always fuck everything up, that's just how it is. I want to laugh at his words, at how he wants to blame it all on me and how he puts himself in the victim-role now. Poor Alex. I was nice to him instead of taking him with me on a porn-adventure. How could I? But in some way, he's also right. I shouldn't even have invited him to my apartment that night, I just shouldn't have done it. And maybe I really made everything worse for him (for both him and myself, actually), maybe I did fuck everything up. Like always.

„Don't you want to say something?“ he asks. „Anything?“

I take another deep breath.

„What am I supposed to say, Alex? We're two very disturbed, unhealthy people who are obviously very toxic for each other. What do you want me to say?“

I should put an end to this. Is that what he wants to hear? This shouldn't go on for any longer. Apparently though, that's not what he wants to hear; at least the fact that he leans closer and kisses me doesn't fit the idea that he wants to end this. And it's not like a goodbye-kiss or anything like that. He kisses my neck, affectionately, while his hand caresses my shoulder, my chest, my ribs. I shut my eyes again, simultaneously feeling numb and like I want to cry. Or scream. Loud. At him, at everything. At myself for letting him do this and not pushing him away once again, more decisively. I can't, it's like a trance, like a spell. I can't do nothing.

His breath is hot against my neck, and he moans quietly as he presses down on me, his crotch rubbing against mine. I shudder, my eyes shutting tighter. Please, let this be over.

„Come on,“ he says, half-whisper, half-moan. „Come on, Phil... I know that you don't want to leave me. Even if you despise me, you still can't let go of me.“ He presses himself against me with more force, his hand clawing into my shirt, making me inhale sharply. „I'm so fucking turned on,“ he mumbles, and when I look at him again, I can see that he's trembling slightly as well. I don't know if it's from his arousal or if it's also an emotional reaction. Does he feel distressed? I don't really want to think anymore about what he feels or not, I don't want to care for him anymore the way I do. But I can't simply stop it. After everything I've already been through with him, how could I just stop feeling this way? Seeing him tremble and look at me like that, feeling him clutching at me... It makes me so weak, completely powerless, and that, on the other hand, makes me angry. And in a matter of seconds, that anger intensifies so much, I can barely keep lying there for any longer without doing anything to release it. It's a feeling I'm not used to. Maybe it's all the anger I have supressed for so long in my life. For way too long.

„You're turned on,“ I say after a while, more to myself. My gaze drifts around aimlessly and I notice something in the distance that, for some reason, catches my attention. A ping-pong-table or something like that. Is this an old school yard maybe, and the building is an abandoned school? How fitting for the circumstance that I'm pinned to the ground by a bully once again.

My mind drifts off; I see pictures before me that I'd rather not see: Alex and his friends with that girl they brought here, pushing her down on that ping-pong-table, tearing her clothes from her body and raping her one after another, laughing while she cries for help. And then, for some reason, I see it all in my mind from the girl's perspective. Maybe because, like Alex already said, I'm stuck in my victim-role. The thought almost makes me retch.

„Yes,“ Alex says after a moment, focussed on my face. „Yes, I'm turned on. Is that disturbing for you? Can't handle that, eh? And yet you don't push me away.“ He smirks at me again. „You enjoy it.“

And that's what makes me lose it. I look to the side, trying to steady my breathing, but before I can calm down, before anything can get better, I'm overcome with such an overwhelming kind of rage that I don't have control over myself anymore. I push myself up from the ground, making him lose his balance in the process, and I hear him gasp in surprise before I even realize that I've grabbed him by his collar. I don't even have a clue if I've pulled him up or if he's gotten to his feet by himself.

„You little shit,“ I hiss, and he winces. „You think I'm enjoying this? This is a fucking nightmare and I enjoy nothing about this. You and your friends should get arrested. And... I should as well.“ He gives me a confused look and then lets out another gasp when I grab his wrist and pull him with me to that table. After his initial confusion though, his goddamn smirk returns.

„What're you doing? Gonna beat me up now?“ he asks as if he was looking forward to that. My hand reflexively tightens around his wrist.

„I'm not you,“ I say, and honestly, I'm not even sure what I want to do. I couldn't even describe what I'm feeling right now. There's this need to hurt him, to let him suffer. To be in power. To not be on the other end anymore. Everything but that. But I don't want to hurt him too much. Because I still see him in my mind sitting in my apartment, cuddling with Caleb, or lying beside me in bed and giving me that shy smile that he probably never gives anyone else, or leaning against my chest, telling me how handsome I am. I can't hurt him in the same brutal way he hurts others.

„Do it,“ he says, grinning. „Beat me to the ground if that makes you feel better. Try it. You'll see, you'll feel horrorshow afterwards.“

„Put your pants down.“

„What?“

He laughs out loud.

„I mean it,“ I say. Even though I have no clue what I really mean. Alex gives me another confused but also somehow amused look.

„I like that,“ he then says but hesitates. After a moment though, he follows my instruction and pulls his pants down. His shorts as well. „And now?“

I swallow slightly, trying not to look at him in a way he could misinterpret as aroused. I'm not aroused. Unlike him.

„Now“, I respond and pause for a while before I sit down on the table with my legs hanging down, my pulse way too quick – for several reasons. „Get up here,“ I finally say. „Over my lap. With... your back to me.“

He grins wider.

„I see,“ he says, nodding slowly. „I see where this is going.“ And after he's climbed up and draped himself over my lap as I told him, lying there on his stomach because, of course, he immediately knew what I mean, he instinctively grinds against my thigh with a little hiss, followed by a chuckle. „Like this? What a degrading position...“

I close my eyes for another moment. Detaching myself from... whatever this is.

„Not quite like this. I don't want you to grind against me,“ I respond to him. „So... do something about it. Tuck it away. Between your legs.“

He gasps quietly. He obviously hasn't expected that. But he should have, after all this is not supposed to satisfy him. I have noticed that he's masochistic, at least with me, and I'm sure he would enjoy a little sexual punishment. This isn't sexual though. Not for me. He's turned on and he will still be after this, and I won't give him what he wants.

I'm a little surprised when he actually obeys me after some seconds without even making a cheeky comment or asking any questions. It almost looks a little awkward how he tries to push himself up again to be able to use his hands. But he does what I asked for, takes it into his hand with a shaky exhale, tucks it between his thighs and leans forward again, his hands slightly clutching at the fabric of my jeans. I take in this sight of him, this surreal sight – everything about this feels surreal, it doesn't even feel like I'm present in my own body –, and I nod.

„Good,“ I say. And then I lunge out and give his backside a hard smack. He yelps; he probably hasn't expected me to start already, and maybe he also expected me to be softer. Another awkward chuckle escapes him the next moment.

„Bloody hell,“ he mumbles. „Just so you know... This is not the first time I get spanked.“

„No? But it wasn't your parents, at least not your mother, was she?“

„No. My Pe and Em could never do anything like that, not even to their worst enemy. They can't harm a fly.“ He chuckles again and there's a long pause. „No, it was in the corrective schools. But they did it with a cane. Or with a paddle. I think they enjoyed it a bit too much, doing that to little malchicks who hadn't even reached puberty.“

Crap.

„I would like to say you probably deserved it, but... that is actually fucked up. Very much.“

Yes. And I'm not really better than that, am I? What am I even doing here? I don't want to be like those sick people he just mentioned. I am not like them. But I'm still sick, no matter what my motivations are. I'm so sick for doing all this.

„What's wrong, Phil? Don't you want to go on? Only one slap? You can do better than that...!“

„I can?“ I laugh, weak and humourless. „You're right, I could've probably done better than this the whole time. By not even taking you to my apartment that first night. It was... wrong. I should've never done that, and I'm sorry I did.“

Silence. Again.

„Well, yeah. You should. You should be sorry,“ he says with a strange tone of voice before I hear him chuckling again, turning his head a little to look at me, but from that angle, he doesn't really see my face. „You said it yourself – we're both fucked up. We're both trash in our own way. But, you know – I embrace it, and you should, too. Just accept that you're a bloody creep who seduced a teenager and enjoys dominating that same teenager. Accept it, Phil. Wouldn't that make everything so much easier?“

I laugh again, and I think I'm losing all my sanity now, piece by piece.

„I don't usually enjoy dominating others, you know? And I usually don't flirt with teenagers either. I usually don't 'flirt' with or 'seduce' anyone at all. This image of me you got in your head from the beginning – that's not really me,“ I respond to him, the trembling of my body getting worse. „But I don't know who or what I am anymore. Not really. You're right, everything is fucked up, and so am I, and so are you. Maybe I am the creep you're telling me I am. Apparently I am...“

„Yes.“ Alex takes a deep breath. And another one. „Everything is... a mess. So there's no reason to pretend it isn't, huh?“ His hand strokes over my leg, as if this wasn't the terrible and absurd situation it is. As if everything was normal, we were just making out and he would touch me casually. Except that us two making out was never anything normal. „No need to hide anything anymore,“ he goes on. „You're angry at me, right? Very angry, very sharpened up. I know how that feels. And the best thing you can do is to unleash it. Trust me.“ He takes another breath. „Hurt me. I don't want you to stop. And I'm sure I deserve it. It will make you feel better, Phil, I promise. Try out some ultraviolence. Make me pay.“

I look to the ground. Would it make me feel better? I don't know. I'm still angry at him, that's true. How couldn't I be? The thought of what he was about to do to that girl upsets me in the worst way I can imagine. But the thought of myself disgusts me just as much. On the other hand... I have hated myself for so long, for various reasons. For being too sensitive, for always being afraid of something. For being too different, an outcast. For not understanding how the world around me works and just not being able to fit in. Then for not being able to protect the only person who made me feel happy. And for not functioning correctly in general – not even in a way I would've liked to, let alone in a way society would expect. I've never been a real, acceptable human being. What does it even matter what I do now? I can't do anything right anyway, it seems. And Alex probably can't either. He's a sadist, and he won't change, and I won't heal him magically and make him a better person. I won't. Especially not by being his lover. But it seems we're stuck in all this, and there's no way anymore to get out of it and pretend it never happened.

„You're sure... you want me to hurt you?“ I ask him quietly, still not looking at him. He exhales deeply.

„Yes. I give you my consent, I want it,“ he says and then adds quieter: „Would actually prefer it if you'd do it without my explicit consent...“

I already suspected that.

„But what if I would do something you really wouldn't want? Without asking you? What if I would do just whatever I feel like doing at the moment – and let's assume those would be... unpleasant things – and you would just be forced to endure it. How would you feel?“

„I see what you're doing there,“ he says, and I hear his grin in his voice. „I would enjoy it. That would be hot as hell and I wish you were like that.“

I try to process that information. It's not like I haven't suspected that as well in some way. But I don't know what to respond to him. I can't even tell him that I understand it, not even from a detached point of view, not even when I imagine I'm not the way I am. How can anyone want that, I wonder. But on the other hand, I can't understand why anyone would enjoy beating random people up or raping them either.

„You just... really like it non-consensual, I guess. Both ways.“

That's all I say in response which apparently makes him laugh again. Sometimes I laugh, too, when I don't know what else to do or to say. Sometimes it's a coping mechanism. I have no clue if it is one for him at this moment as well. Maybe he just really finds this funny.

„Phil... You won't understand how my mind works. How I feel about things. It's just too far away from how you feel,“ he says and pauses for a moment. „What is consent even?“ he then asks, but I'm not sure it's a serious question. „How do you know if someone really wants something or not? People usually aren't honest anyway. Isn't it part of the human nature to lie? To manipulate others to get what you want? So, why would I give a cal if someone says yes or no, or maybe says nothing at all? What's the point?“

„That's very cynical now, isn't it? You never did anything to me without my consent. Because you think I'm not like the others? Not manipulative?“

„You surely aren't like the others. But no, that's not the reason. The reason why I never did anything without your consent is because I simply didn't want to. I've never felt like I wanted to hurt you yet.“

„Oh, how gracious of you! 'Yet', huh? So you might one day, when you're in the mood?“

He's quiet for a while.

„I don't think I'd ever be in the mood to hurt you. But you know what? I want you to hurt me. Now. I don't know what you're waiting for. You want it, too, don't you? We both want it, so you even have your bloody consent and all.“

„I have my bloody consent, yes.“ From a teenager who doesn't even understand what that word means. Not really. „Alright,“ I say, looking at him without actually seeing him. I see nothing. And maybe I also feel nothing. I don't know anymore what I'm feeling, it's all blurry and confusing. As if there are a thousand feelings somewhere in the distance that somehow belong to me, but I can't reach them. And the next moment, I don't give a fuck about all that anymore, not about those potential feelings that will very likely crash over me like a wave later, not about Alex's feelings that may or may not exist, and not about how questionable all this is. I ignore all those things, lift my hand once more and land a hard blow before I can change my mind again, and then another. And another. Alex lets out some kind of desperate moan which, for some reason, only spurs me on to slap him harder. I don't care. May someone find out about this and report it to the cops. Let them lock me away. Whatever.

After I don't know how many slaps, I feel Alex's hand clawing into my leg, sending another strange shudder through my body.

„Shit,“ he whispers in between his moans that have turned more into whines by now. It almost sounds like he's crying, and my mind is in a state where it doesn't know what the hell to do with that information. So I keep going, my arm doing the same motion again and again and again, completely automatically, but with time, I do it faster, as if I'm in some kind of frenzy. The sounds he makes become more and more weepy, but he doesn't say anything. No snarky or cheeky comment anymore, nothing except for his little cries and occasional curses. His hips jerk with each blow, his body tensing, and then, with the next blow, he lets out such a weird groan and clutches so tightly at my leg, it's almost painful, and I realize he just had an orgasm, his release dripping to the ground from his thighs. I stare at him, my hand still lifted before I slowly let it sink to my side. And again, I'm paralyzed, can't comprehend this, the fact that he came from this.

Alex takes deep breaths and, after a while, pushes himself up again from my knees, his movements a little shaky. Then his gaze and his hands go down to my crotch, as if on instinct, making me flinch slightly, and when he realizes I'm not hard, he freezes, in a similar way I freeze as well when I'm too overwhelmed with a situation. He seems to avoid eye-contact (which I'm actually grateful for), just keeps looking down, as if he's upset by the fact that this didn't give me sexual pleasure; maybe even sad about it. The thought that it gave him so much sexual pleasure that it made him climax, on the other hand – the thought that I practically rewarded him for what he did –, makes me feel... sick.

„Alex... please... get away from me,“ I say, and the second I say it and see his expression, I feel guilty. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to block everything out, all those feelings I wasn't able to reach just a moment ago and that now threaten to consume me, just as I knew they would. This hasn't made me feel better. It's made me feel worse.

„What's... wrong with you?“ Alex asks, making me open my eyes again slowly. I see him standing before me now, kind of disoriented and with a shaky smile. And with his pants back on. I can't reply to him. What should I say? Everything's wrong. He's a mess and I'm a piece of shit. So I just get up from the ping-pong-table, looking everywhere but at his face, and notice how I'm pulling and clawing at my sleeve so hard I'm almost destroying it.

„I'm sorry,“ I mumble, certain that I'll have a panic attack within the next few seconds, but before that can happen and before he can witness it, I quickly turn around and go.

Chapter Text

„I'm sorry.“

That's what he said. And then he was gone. Poof.

What does that mean, I wonder. What was he sorry for? For leaving me alone just like that? Oh yes, he should be very sorry for that, very, very sorry. Or what else could he have meant? Sorry for having spanked my naughty backside real horrorshow? Well, he really had no mercy. It was definitely more brutal than the punishments in the corrective schools. Or the ones in my normal school. Still haven't forgotten how that starry ptitsa had me bent over her desk about seven years ago in front of, well, everyone. But that teacher and the vecks in the corrective schools, they all had one thing in common: They enjoyed what they did. And they didn't even really try to hide it. They just loved giving some good ol' punishment to malchicks and devotchkas who didn't obey them properly.

Phil didn't. I don't know why, but what I saw in his litso was not enjoyment. He did it not to punish me, no – I would've loved it if it had been that, some nice sexual punishment with some dirty slovos in between. But it wasn't like that. He did it because he needed to let out his anger, right? And obviously, he can't tolchok me the way I tolchok others, he doesn't have it in himself to do things like that, so it had to be some kind of beating that wouldn't leave permanent injuries on me. It did though, it did leave something. His slovos did.

Now, my brothers, I am sitting in the Korova Milk Bar, all by myself, and I don't even know how much time has passed since that day. Maybe it's been a week, maybe just some hours. It's so hard to say. I don't quite have a clear mind, my brothers, it's a malenky bit foggy. Probably from the veshches I drank and am still drinking and will be drinking. But that's alrighty-right, for I'm sitting in one of those small spaces where you can go to have a little journey on your own, undisturbed by everyone else. And as I am sitting here, I try, I really try not to think too much about it all, but it just keeps coming back to my gulliver.

What's he sorry for? For having started anything with me in the first place and for making me feel the way I do?

„Get away from me,“ another thing he said to me – after he first told me to get onto his lap, that is. First he wants me to climb onto his plott, then I have to get away. Seems like he can't decide. Seems like he doesn't know what he wants.

My glazzies stare at the walls, or at one of the walls in particular that looks like it's changing its form. Nothing new. That's what happens when you consume these veshches. I take another sip of my Moloko, and the wall suddenly turns blue, then yellow, and a strange figure appears, coming out of the yellow with absurdly cheerful movements, and then I realize it's P. R. Deltoid who's dancing out of the wall there, jumping around and swinging his starry hips. And he's singing something, a song I've heard before but never liked; one of those gloopy, cheesy pop-veshches that makes me want to tear off my ookos.

And they called it puppy love
Just because we're in our teens
Tell them all
Please tell them it isn't fair
To take away my only dream

That's what he sings. It doesn't sound nice, my brothers, it sounds like cal. I also don't like how he winks at me.

„What's wrong with you, little Alex?“ he then asks, interrupting his singing which is a relief, thank Bog. „What's wrong, hmmmm? Sitting here all alone, yes? Where are your stupid friends?“

My stupid friends, yeah. My droogs. I shrug, taking another sip of my drink. I don't want my droogs here now, I don't want anyone here. Least of all Deltoid.

„Get the hell out of here, gadkiy bratchny,“ I tell him, but he just laughs, a very unpleasant sound.

„But, little Alex, I can't. You see, I need to watch over you, yeees? You're not behaving yourself, are you? And don't lie to me again, I'm warning you.“

He bursts into laughter, making me feel sick, and then he suddenly explodes, my dear brothers, the red krovvy splashing around and staining the blue and yellow and green walls, and even though I certainly don't have a problem with the sight of the red red krovvy, it makes me wince heavily. And then I wince again when I feel something touching me from behind, and when I turn around I look straight into the glazzies of the pretty devotchka we could've had fun with on the ping-pong-table, had we not been interrupted.

„Hello, sweetie,“ she says with a somewhat distorted goloss, wrapping her arms around me, and for, like, half a second, her litso turns into that of me Em before she looks like that sweet devotchka again. I turn away from her, closing my eyes and focussing on my Moloko. This is all too fucked up. But her rooks, like, claw into my torso, and I think they're not normal rooks anymore but talons or something, but when I look down, I can't viddy any talons, I only feel the pain, and the pain is real horrorshow. Then she's not behind me anymore but lying on the table in front of me, completely nagoy and with her rooks tied above her head.

„Come here,“ she warbles. „Make me scream. Make me explode.“

Like Deltoid? I keep looking at her, kind of dumbstruck, but then climb on top of her nonetheless, and as I do that, her appearance changes yet again, but I can't even say what it is about her that's changing.

„Well, what's your name, pretty thing?“

She stares at me with wide glazzies – no, actually, her glazzies don't even look like glazzies anymore. More like black holes. Her whole litso looks very... frozen. And scared. Was it like that the whole time? No, I think, it wasn't, right?

„I'm Lucy,“ she says, her goloss very timid now, matching her litso. Lucy... Haven't I heard that name before? Well, whatever. I smirk at her.

„Nice to meet you, Lucy, I'm Alex,“ I say, not in the mood for a long introduction, so I just grab one of her groodies and squeeze it, once again dumbstruck for a moment when I viddy the load of milk shooting out, straight onto my chest.

„Don't...!“ she whimpers, wriggling underneath me. „You have to be careful... I'm important property of the Korova...“

And now it hits me. Of course, that's where I've heard her name – she's one of the milk-dispensers, the one Dim loves so much.

„Property of the Korova, hmm? I'm a regular in the Korova, so how about you're my property as well?“

„No... No,“ she keeps whimpering, real pathetic. „You're not careful enough. You will break me...!“

„You know, your little pleas and whimpers just make me want it even more,“ I say, grinning at her, and when I lean close to take her groodie (or more precisely, the pink little glazzie in its middle) between my lips and suck, she cries out, shooting her sweet moloko straight into my mouth, yum yum. She goes on with her „No, no, no, boohoohoo“, but, as you can probably guess, brothers, that doesn't stop me from diving in and giving her a proper prick of my sharp, sharp needle, making her screech and squirm like a little bunny. Now and then her groodies still leak some moloko, and I realize, her cunt does, too, more and more, and when I focus on her litso again, I gasp in shock. It's melting. The whole devotchka is melting, and a few seconds later, there's nothing left of her but a puddle of milk.

„This is crazy. I'm going crazy...“

Out of nowhere, there's a loud laugh echoing through the room, making me wince once again, and, of course, it's gloopy, bloody Deltoid.

„Well, well, well, little Alex,“ he giggles. „That's what happens to naughty boys. And we're not finished yet, yeeees?“

„What do you mean?“ I growl at his goloss – his plott seems to be invisible, at least I can't viddy him anywhere. „What do you mean, not finished? What else?!“

„You will see, Alex-boy, yeeeeeeeeeeeeeees,“ he howls, that last 'yes' so long, I almost thought it would go on forever. But before I can even take a guess what he's talking about, I can feel something... weird. Like, very weird, brothers; a strange sensation spreading between my nogas, and when I reflexively look down, there's nothing there anymore. I freeze.

„What the HELL did you do?!“ I scream, but nobody answers me, so, when I feel able to move again, I put my rook there, having to figure this out myself – and, Bog, I don't know how to describe it. It's not simply gone. It's transformed. My breath hitches, I almost don't dare to move my rook any further. But then I do, rub my fingers over that slit, press them against that spot where my yarbles were before and where I now have a hole, and, oh Bog, I don't know how to take this, I don't know–

„Now's not the time to play with yourself, foolish boy,“ I hear another goloss, interrupting my thoughts, and I immediately take my rook away because, oh, that goloss is so... powerful. And now I realize, I'm not kneeling on the table anymore where I had the in-out with the milk-dispenser – I'm lying on someone's lap yet again. And when I turn to look into that someone's litso, I shudder so heavily, I almost feel like I'm melting myself.

„Oh Bog... Oh... That can't be,“ I stutter as I look straight into the litso of my great, beloved Ludwig Van. He looks back at me with his cold, murderous signature-stare, and I feel my poor heart skip at least ten beats, and there's also a feeling like a torturously sweet jab going right through my, well, what I now have down there, I suppose. Ludwig doesn't say anything. But he gives me a malenky smirk, and then I feel his rook spanking me real horrorshow, making me moan out loud, my plott grinding against him all by itself. It feels so strange but so good but so terrifying, and the next moment, I'm even more terrified when I viddy Ludwig reaching for my cane and taking it into his other rook to do who-knows-what with it. I want to say something („No!“ or „Yes!“ or „Wait!“, I'm not even sure), but he doesn't wait for anything. He shoves that thing into that dripping, helpless cunt of mine, and I hear my own goloss making a weird pathetic sound (way too similar to those sounds I've slooshed from Lucy not long ago), my nogas quivering, begging for me to be fucked but also begging for it to stop because it's all too much, too much, too much.

Then there's something else I can viddy, quite blurry, something very long and scaly, and I realize it's... snakes. For some reason, I feel horrified by the thought of that, like I'm my younger, malenkier self having his nightmares again with all those bizarre snake-encounters. I can feel them slithering over my plott, over my back, and it's making me shudder so much yet again, I must look like I'm having a seizure.

„What's happening?“ I hear myself ask with a disgustingly poogly voice. But, of course, nobody answers me. Ludwig Van doesn't either, probably because he's deaf. And snakes can't talk, I guess. They're hissing at me though, and I feel their long plotts wrapping around my nogas and my arms, as if they were ropes, and there's a feeling of absolute dread building inside me because I'm suddenly aware that those snakes belong to stinky Billyboy and his droogs!

„Get off me!“ I want to scream, but no sound comes out, brothers. They're everywhere, really, everywhere, and I think I have (again) turned to a sobbing mess – that seems to be all that's left of me, sob, sob, boohoo.

Now one of the snakes rubs its gulliver against mine like a koshka, and I look at it in confusion. It stares at me with its yellow eyes, but, brothers, there is something inside those eyes, something familiar, and somehow I know this isn't really a snake. It's in fact Phil, isn't it? Or maybe it's just my dear ol' Basil?

Phil, Basil, I think to myself. Both end with 'il'. And that's how I feel at this moment, brothers, real ill, real horrorshow ill.

„I want to make you cry,“ I hear another goloss behind me – another snake, I suppose. „I wonder if you're capable of that.“ And the goloss keeps talking. „I love your ass,“ it then says. And „I'll rip you apart and then put you back together“ and then „I wanted to make sure I didn't hurt you too much“. But, no, actually it sounds more like „I'll back you together and rip apart you then“ and „Make sure I wanted not hurt you much to“, and then I feel real sick and, like, vomit into the void underneath me, and after that, I'm not sure what I'm feeling anymore. Because for a while, there seems to be only black around me.

It's getting later and later. And I'm waiting.

That day in that lost place – I just want to forget it. I don't want to think anymore about what he did, what I did, the feelings I've felt... I wish I could just go back to another time where I still thought – no, tried to make myself believe – that he's not the kind of person he is. Or to a time even before that, before I met him, where I also thought I wasn't this kind of person that I apparently am. To a time where I didn't feel what I feel now for... this boy. I wish it all wouldn't have happened. I wish all the things with Gary wouldn't have happened either. I wish I could just stop existing, in fact, but I've wished for that so often already, and yet, I've never felt able to end it because there's always this silly hope that everything could get better one day. But how could anything get better now? How can I repair this, this chaos, this shattered thing that is my life? And my relationship. God, I feel guilty for even calling it that.

And yet, we have talked after that day, Alex and I. Not for long. He briefly called me on the phone one day later – yesterday – and asked if we could meet the next day – which is today – for our private lessons again. And of course I'm too weak to deny him that, after all I've promised to help him, and, as it's always been, my stupid anxiety didn't allow me to say anything else but „Yes, okay“. Funny though that the thought of meeting him today just made my anxiety worse, and the fact that he should be here now but still didn't appear doesn't make it any better.

Sighing, I gaze out the window. I'm not even able to do anything but wait. I can't. I want him to be here, but I also don't want him to be here. I want to talk to him, but I want to avoid him, too. I want to break up with him because this obviously shouldn't be. But who would take care of him then? His parents? Not really, as it seems. His so called friends? They're the ones who are doing all those horrible things together with him. His teachers? He never told me about a teacher so far whom he could talk to and trust. His post-corrective advisor? Hell no. And I'm nearly a hundred percent sure he wouldn't go to a therapist either. I sigh again.

Where the fuck is he? Did he change his mind? I couldn't even blame him for that after our last encounter. But for some reason, I can't shake the feeling that it's something else, that something happened to him. Maybe it's just paranoia. But I'm worried.

So, after another little while of sitting there like a statue, I get up and call his mother – she gave me their telephone-number in case I should need it one day (not sure though if that was her only reason) –, and it doesn't take long until she picks up.

„DeLarge?“

„Uhm... Hello, Mrs. DeLarge. It's me, Phillip Gravarg,“ I say, of course not without sounding awkward as hell.

„Oooh... Mr. Gravarg!“ she exclaims. I have to distance myself a bit from the phone because her voice is so shrill. „What a pleasure to hear you calling! What can I do for you, is everything okay?“

„Well, uh... I was- Uhm. Alex was supposed to come here, we wanted to have our private lessons today. But I still haven't seen him. Do you know where he is maybe? I'm... a little worried.“

„Oooh,“ she says again before she pauses for a while, apparently thinking. „I think... he said he wanted to meet with his friends?“ she then finally explains, but it sounds more like a question.

„He said that to you? That he's going to meet his friends?“

„Yes. Yes, I think so. But I'm not sure...“

Probably because she gave up even listening to him.

„Okay. I see.“ If he really said that to his mother – did he lie? Or is he actually out with his 'droogs'? „Thank you for telling me,“ I say to her after a moment. „Have a nice evening, Mrs. DeLarge.“

„Uhm, yes, you, too!“ she responds, way too excited, but before she can say anything more, I've hung up, taking a deep breath, wondering if that was rude, and I fight the urge to call her again just to apologize for having hung up so quickly.

Well. Alex went away with his friends. At least that's what he apparently told his mother. Should I do anything? But what? Try to find him and interrupt their meeting, scolding him for not having arrived here on time? No.

But what if he didn't go out with his friends, what if he really lied? I don't know what it is, but something about this seems strange to me. Maybe it's our last talk on the phone. He called me by himself, he was the one who wanted to meet me, and he sounded very... quiet. Not like his usual self. It just doesn't really fit together.

Alright, I think to myself, I can't really keep sitting here without knowing where he is. I would be worried the whole night long, and there's no harm in going to that weird bar he always visits with his 'droogs' and looking if he's there, right? Or somewhere else around that area. I remember that he once talked about it, about that bar – the Korova, I think that's what he called it –, and since I know that he often hangs around with his droogs in a location where they drink some sort of drugged milk, I'm pretty sure that has to be this 'Korova'. I only have to figure out where to find it.

Wait... Didn't he say he had been there the first time we met? I think back to that day, try to visualize it all. I was on my way home from, I don't know, I think I was grocery shopping? Not much, just some coffee and water and noodles or something. Then I saw him leaning against a wall and sipping his milk that he apparently got from there, from the 'Korova'. Or maybe he stole it, I'm not sure it's even allowed to take a glass from a bar with you. If that bar is anywhere near that place where we met, it probably won't be too hard to find. So I get up from the couch and put on my shoes, and after hesitating again for a little while, I walk out the door.

It didn't take me very long to find the bar indeed. I'm not sure why I've never really noticed it before, probably because I was just never very interested in it, but now I definitely won't forget this location anymore. From the outside, it does stand out in a way, but not that much. From the inside though... wow. This is like another world. Or maybe I just perceive it that way because it differs a lot from my own sense of aesthetic. At least the idea of a table in the shape of a naked woman never crossed my mind.

I look around, at the people who are sitting at those tables with drinks. Most of them with a partner or friends, and it's mostly young people, but some older ones are here, too. I can't see Alex anywhere though. On the other hand, I haven't looked everywhere yet.

„Good evening, Sir,“ I hear someone addressing me – a large, slim guy with an outfit that looks like the most psychedelic combination of disco- and hippie-style. „Can I help you?“

„Well...“ I turn to him more but my eyes keep scanning my surroundings absently. „Thank you, but... not really. I'm just looking around here a little. It's... a fascinating ambience.“

The guy grins and nods.

„Sure is, man. Take your time. Haven't been here before, I guess?“ I shake my head and he nods again. „You can come to the counter and order something, like in every other bar, but if you want to drink our famous Moloko Plus, you can also use one of the milk-dispensers – you see, those pretty, pale-skinned girls,“ he explains and winks at me, „and she'll share some of her milk with you if you feed her with some deng.“ Then his voice turns a bit quieter and he leans forward to me, as if to tell me a secret. „And if you want to... you know, be a bit more secluded and undisturbed while having your special experience, there's also an area here with curtains where you can sit on your own.“

„Special experience, huh?“ Totally doesn't sound questionable. „Hm... Can you show me that secluded area?“

He grins wider and nods again – he nods a lot, he never seems to stopp nodding –, and I begin to think this guy might've had some 'milk' himself already.

„Sure, man, sure. Follow me,“ he says and leads me downstairs, then through a small corridor. This bar is so shady, and the thought that they sell this stuff to minors makes me angry. The anger redirects itself at, well, me though as I think about things being done to minors. „Here,“ the guy says, pointing towards some... cabins? I don't really know how to put it. There are several little areas, all divided by a wall, and some of them are open to look at with nobody sitting there while others are covered by a curtain. It definitely looks strange, it's nothing I've ever seen in a bar.

„So... you can sit here to be alone? To have some... trip and be undisturbed?“ I ask hesitantly, trying not to get impatient when the guy responds with another very slow nod.

„Yes,“ he finally says. „Nobody will go in there while you're having your journey. You can find the milk-dispensers in there, too.“

I take a closer look at the closed curtains – and what I can see underneath –, but of course I try not to do it too obviously. I feel my heart stopping for an instant though when I indeed see a familiar pair of boots behind one of the curtains. Even the pants tugged into them aren't unfamiliar to me.

„I... I think I'll give it a try,“ I say. „Thanks for showing me around. Can I... be alone now?“

„Suuuuure.“ The guy pats my shoulder. I try to smile at him in an overly friendly way to mask my discomfort. „Have fun. You won't forget this, mate.“

With that, he disappears. There really doesn't seem to be anyone here anymore to control what's happening in this room. Unbelievable.

After a long moment of just standing there and staring at that one 'cabin', I take a deep breath and finally go there, despite what the guy told me about 'nobody going in there while someone else is having their journey' and all that shit, and after another deep breath, I pull the curtain to the side briefly and hear myself gasping in shock when I see him sitting there.

„Oh... Oh God,“ I whisper, stepping inside the cabin and closing the curtain again behind me. „Alex...?“

He's staring at the walls, now and then mumbling something very quietly, some random words, as it seems. And he looks terrible, as if he hasn't slept in a week; as if his soul has left his body. He doesn't look at me. He doesn't react in any way, it's like he doesn't even see me.

„Hey... Alex. Look at me,“ I say softly, approaching him until I stand by his side. I look at the table he's sitting at – there are two drinks in front of him, goddamn, two different ones! –, and then I slowly reach out to touch his cheek carefully. He winces slightly but still stares straight ahead, as if he has felt my touch but doesn't know where it came from.

„Phil,“ he mumbles with a broken voice, and I shudder. Does he recognize me, despite obviously being in some kind of other sphere?

„Yes,“ I say. „It's me. I wanted... to make sure you're okay. But it doesn't look like you are...“

And I can't believe I actually found him even. Seems like my intuition was right and it was a good idea to come here.

„I-ill,“ he stammers after a moment, and I don't know if he's talking to me or to himself.

„Ill?“ I repeat. „Do you feel ill?“

He doesn't respond to that though, he just keeps staring straight ahead, as if he's seeing things – he probably is –, and he whimpers and tenses in a concerning way. Then he's quiet for a while. And then he looks down and vomits on the table. I watch him, shocked but unable to do or say anything for a moment – before I try to get myself out of my paralysis quickly and touch his shoulder, this time with a bit more pressure.

„Okay, this is enough. I can't keep watching you like this. This has to stop...! Do you hear me?“

He still doesn't react; I have no clue if he even understands what I'm saying. He leans over the table, almost with his face in his vomit, and his eyes are closed now. And he starts whimpering again, in a quiet but heart-wrenching way, like a little child.

„Alex... Oh fuck...“

What can I do for him? This is horrible, simply horrible! Before I do anything else, I lift his upper body up from the table, place him against the backrest of his chair and take his hand into mine, squeezing it tightly.

„Come on,“ I say, trying not to sound as unstable as I feel. „Don't... do this to me. Please...“ I look to the ground. I just hope I won't collapse right here and now. „I'm... sorry. About everything that happened. Everything that happened... between us. I'm not a responsible man... I don't know what I'm doing... I should... I should leave you, but I can't. I don't want you to be alone. And...“ I shut my eyes tightly. „And... I don't want to be alone either...“

There's a long, shaky exhaling sound, but it doesn't come from me. It comes from him, and suddenly, I feel him clutching at my hand.

„Then don't go,“ he mutters. It's very slurred. „Don't go away.“

I turn to him once more, try to gather my thoughts, but then look away again.

„Then tell me how this is supposed to work. With us,“ I respond to him which apparently causes him to let out a long, pained moan.

„It... has worked before,“ he answers me, so slurred I can barely understand him, and chuckles. Yes, he laughs. As if that could erase the seriousness of this situation.

„Has it really worked?“ I ask in turn. „There is so much wrong about this relationship, and you know it! You know that we shouldn't be together, for so many reasons. You're not good for me, and I'm not good for you...“

His expression goes blank again. Then he lets go of my hand and grabs one of his drinks.

„No, no, no,“ I interrupt him and take the glass away from him before he can take a sip. „Are you out of your mind? You have already puked on the table and still haven't had enough? You shouldn't even drink this shit at all! It's poison, goddammit. You want to live for a few more decades, don't you?“

He's silent again.

„Not sure about that,“ he mumbles, and it makes me shudder heavily once again.

„You wanna drink yourself to death then, huh? I promise you that will happen if you and your friends keep living that sort of life.“

He still avoids looking up and just silently takes his glass again, as if to demonstrate to me that he doesn't care about any of that. I can't describe what the sight of that does to me. It scares me. It makes me furious. It makes me want to vomit myself. So I tear the glass away from him again and smash it, its content spreading on the floor. Now I apparently have his attention. And also that of the weird guy who lead me to this area and now returns with loud steps.

„Who's causin' trouble here?“ he shouts, and I pull the curtain to the side to face him. I must look very intimidating, at least the guy jumps when he sees me. „What the hell is happening here, my friend?“ he asks, looks down at the broken glass and then back at me. „Did you smash that?“

„Yes, I did,“ I say, giving him a cold smile, trying to control my anger at least a little. „And I won't pay for it or whatever you're going to tell me. You're letting teenagers drink this fucking shit. I can't even believe this is legal.“ I point at Alex. „Look at him. He's a mess. You could literally kill him with those... those substances, whatever they actually are. You're killing all those people, do you understand that?“

Alex makes a frustrated growling-sound in the background. The guy returns my gaze with a twitching mouth.

„Well, thus far it's not illegal at least,“ he responds, smirking, and I really want to punch him. „What's the problem with your... friend? Brother? Whatever he is to you. I don't see any real problem here. He's high. Or drunk. Or both. So what? He's not a baby and he knows what he's doing, eh?“

That's it. I can't take this anymore.

„I'm sorry if that might sound a little rude. But if you really think that way... you're a piece of shit.“

With that, I go back to Alex, grab his arm and pull him up from his chair. He moans and retches, and I instantly feel bad for maybe not being careful enough with him, so I apologize quietly and put my arm around him to keep him upright. The guy watches us and frowns, seems to think for a moment and then shakes his head.

„Whatever, mate,“ he says. „I'll forget about the smashed glass. But I don't wanna see your face here again. Alright?“

„Sure. I don't intend to come to this place ever again,“ I hiss back at him. And somehow, I really manage to get Alex out of the bar after that.

It's getting dark already. He's shaking, I notice, and I look around to see if we can sit down here anywhere. Luckily, I spot a bench in the distance, and we manage to get there as well.

„I'm... cold,“ he mutters, still staring straight ahead, almost apathetic. Funny. I feel the same way, and it's a warm evening; most people I have seen on my way to the bar wore a T-shirt. Alex and I are both wearing a long-sleeved shirt and yet we're cold. Unable to feel the warmth. „Phil?“ He turns to me after what feels like hours. „You... uh... Don't leave me. Please...“

I breathe in sharply when he says that. Shit. Shit.

„I don't really want to leave you,“ I say quietly, even though I know I should. But this is breaking my heart. And I don't want to break his. „I just don't know... how to move on. It all went too far already. Way too far...“

Silence.

„You... hate me, right?“ he then asks, and I cringe inside.

„No! I don't hate you,“ I respond quickly, taking his hand again. „I don't hate you... I hate... what you do. To others and to yourself.“

He looks past me. He looks... genuinely sad.

„I don't want you to hate anything about me,“ he whispers, and I think his trembling has gotten worse. „I... love you.“

„Dammit,“ I mumble to myself. Once again, I am wondering what the hell I am supposed to do. I feel utterly lost, but I can't just do nothing. He needs me. He needs someone. And I would be lying if I said I wouldn't want to be that someone. So I press him against my chest tightly, try to shield him from everything harmful, when in fact this very relationship is harmful – but Alex clings to me instinctively as if he doesn't care how harmful it is. Just like he does with his drugs. „It's... It's okay,“ I tell him. „I'm here. I'm here, alright?“

He leans into me and just cries. I can feel his body jerking, vibrating.

„I need you,“ he sobs. „Don't leave me, don't go away...“

Maybe he doesn't even really hear what I'm saying. He seems to be in a loop, in a spiral of anxiety and hopelessness. I can tell, I have been in that state myself. Not just once.

„Alex. I won't leave you. Okay?“ I put my hand on his chin carefully and lift his face a little to look at him. „I admit, I have no clue how all of this should... go on. But I won't leave. I... I will be there for you. But... you'll have to put a little effort in this, too...“

The way he looks reminds me of that terrible night he got assaulted by that other gang. He looks exhausted, lost. Pitiful.

„I can try,“ he says with a very faint voice. „I'll try. I will... be a better person.“

I give him a sad little smile. I know that he's lying. Maybe he will try for a day or two to not do those things anymore. And even if he tried for a longer time – his only reason would be that he doesn't want me to hate him. He doesn't actually want to stop doing those things. He's just afraid of being left alone again, afraid of the consequences. And that won't change him as a person. I can't change him.

„If I stay with you as your boyfriend,“ I say quietly, „I am a bad person, too. I could try to stay with you in a platonic way, as your private tutor and maybe... friend. But that would mean I'd have to distance myself from you to some degree because... I don't think I can be near you and not want to hold you like this. Or more. And, you know... Sometimes when you love something or someone too much – you just have to make a cut. Right? If you can't have all of something... it's sometimes better to have nothing of it.“

„So you do want to leave me,“ he says with a bitter chuckle.

„No. I didn't say I want to, and I didn't say I am going to. I said... it would be better. For both of us.“

„Yeah? Would it? Why would it be better?“ He seems almost desperate now, and it... hurts. „You think it's bad because you're older than me, because I am not an adult? Honestly, Phil – who the hell cares?! You think anyone gives a cal about that? Me and my droogies, you know what we're doing – and nobody cares. You think you having sex with me is so bad? Well, think again...! You're the only one who turns it into some kind of drama. I couldn't care less about how old you are. But I do care about... having you with me...“ A tear runs from his eye and he pauses for a moment to take a breath. Then he looks down. „Why is it bad? You're the only one who ever... got me. Why is it bad?“

Fuck. I can't take this. I openly admit – I'm too weak for this.

„It's not only because of that. It's also because of how you are and how I am, as a person. We're... different. You're not really happy with me either, are you? You didn't seem like you really want this anymore recently.“

„Yeah, but that's because I don't want you to be so careful with me!“ he immediately explains. „I just wish you were more, I don't know... Not so horribly soft...“

„Is that really the biggest problem? Me being too soft? Don't you realize how unhealthy and immature that sounds?“

„You think I'm immature? Well, yes, Phil – I'm fifteen. And you were the one who decided to not give a fuck about that when you took me with you that first night, remember?“ I cringe again. But nobody pays attention to us. The few people who are here just walk by. „You took me with you and you told me you... loved me not long after that. Why did you let this happen in the first place if it's so wrong? You make me a bloody part of your life, and then you end it all because you suddenly realize you don't want someone like me who's... well, not a bolshy softie like you, huh?“

„We're moving in circles, Alex...“

„Maybe, but I want you to tell me. Tell me why you even... started this.“ He doesn't sound angry anymore like he did just some seconds ago. He sounds upset and depressed, and now he waits for my answer with tears in his eyes. And I feel... guilty. „Tell me,“ he says again. „What in hell made you decide to throw all your gloopy morals away if you really think it's all so wrong?“

„You reminded me of someone.“

Yes. Now I said it. I didn't want to, I never wanted to mention this. But maybe it's better than keeping it to myself all the time, maybe suppressing one's feelings about one's past isn't exactly so good.

„I reminded you of someone?“ He scoffs. „Like... your ex or something? Was he like me? Do I replace him alright?“

„God, no! You don't replace him. And... you're not even really like him. Not at all.“

No. Gary was kind. He was a good guy.

„Then why do I remind you of him?“ Alex asks, frowning, and he's right to be confused. I'm confused myself. I don't know why exactly he reminds me of him – apart from the fact that he destroys himself with drugs – and I don't really know why he fascinated and attracted me so much that I couldn't say No to him that first night.

Maybe it's not only the association with Gary. Maybe it's the association with my bullies, too. Maybe I feel attracted to him because I'm deeply disturbed and sick and, like he suspected, never processed my traumas.

„I can't really tell you. I don't know,“ I respond after a while quietly. „I think... it's more that being with you reminds me of the feelings I had when I was... younger.“

He's silent now. He probably has no clue what I'm talking about, and that's okay. I don't really have a clue either.

After a while, he leans his head against my shoulder again and sighs deeply.

„Can I come home with you?“ he asks, his voice just as quiet as mine. Or even quieter. It's not more than a mumble and still sounds a little slurred, probably influenced by the substances he indulged in.

„You can,“ I tell him, pressing him closer to me, holding him in my arms. His mother thinks he's hanging around with his friends anyway, doesn't she? She doesn't know anything, she doesn't know what he's doing, what he's feeling, what's happening to him when he's not home. She only has her suspicions about the crimes he commits at night. But she doesn't know what's really going on inside him. And neither do I.

Chapter Text

I am lying on my bed, brothers, and stare at the ceiling, this time without my beloved Ludwig Van playing. I need the silence because I still have a bit of a pain in the gulliver from the mixture of veshches I had yesterday in the Korova that probably wasn't very good for little ol' me.

I left Phil's apartment in the early afternoon, after he made me eat something for breakfast. He wouldn't let me stay with him longer because, oh, my poor Pe and Em have to be worried about me and I shouldn't always stay away from home without them knowing anything about where I am. And so I am here now, and I don't even have a clue what day it is and if I should actually be in skolliwoll right now or not, but I don't care about it and nobody else cares if I'm there or not either, so what does it matter.

I close my glazzies, not sure if I want to just rest or if I want to think. But what would I even think about? It is so much that's going on in my gulliver that it's now nothing going on there; too many things all at once to keep track of everything. So what's actually going on in my brain now is nothing but static, white noise.

The door bell rings and I have no clue who that could be, but I don't move. I don't even want to know. When I sloosh my Em opening the door and then sloosh the other person's goloss though, my glazzies open all by themselves and I sit up on my bed real skorry. A moment later, I sloosh the knock-knocking on my door, and there's a weird feeling in my lower plott when I make an approving sound before I viddy him coming into my room, looking at me with such a strange look in his eyes. Georgie.

„Hey,“ he says, his gaze lingering on me for a while. Then he looks away, closes the door behind him and continues to look away. I expected him to say a bit more than just „Hey“, but apparently, that's all.

„What is it, Georgie? Did I miss something in skolliwoll? Bringing me homework or something?“

„Uh... No,“ he says. „It's weekend, there wasn't any skolliwoll today.“

„Oh.“

He stares at the wall for, like, ten minutes before he comes closer and sits down on my bed next to me.

„Are you okay?“ he asks, and I can feel my stomach tighten in a bizarre way.

„Sure. Why do you ask?“

„I saw you. Yesterday.“

I freeze. Not that I've been moving in any way, but I think my litso is frozen, and my guts feel frozen, too.

„What do you mean?“ I ask with a stupid, weak chuckle.

„I was in the Korova yesterday, on my own,“ he explains. „I didn't know you were there, too. Until I saw you leaving with your... Phil.“ He pauses for a while. „You looked... You didn't look well. So I followed you and saw you two sitting on that bench from afar. Couldn't hear what you said. But you, uhm...“

And here he stops. I can guess what he wants to say though. I was bawling my glazzies out, yes, leaning against Phil's pletcho, clutching at him, probably looking like a pile of shit. I get why Georgie can't say that out loud. He has never viddied me like that before, not a single time.

„Yeah. I wasn't well yesterday, that's right. Might've poured a malenky bit too much into me gulliver,“ I say, not waiting for him to finish his sentence. Georgie doesn't look content with that though.

„We all have a bit too much now and then,“ he goes on, his litso firm. „But I've never seen you or one of the others cry like that. You even less than them. Dim has days where he feels insecure but then tries to laugh it away. Pete is constantly depressed and has accepted it as the way he is. But you?You always act as if nothing can harm you. As if you're above anything else. So...“ He eyes me with a somewhat pained smile. „What made you cry like that in another veck's arms?“

I don't like this. I absolutely don't like where this is going.

„To be honest, Georgie – I don't think this is any of your business,“ I tell him, but he just gives me a bitter smirk in response.

„Is it not? Why? If you see me as your droog – your friend –, why don't you tell me anything?“ His expression changes. He looks a little bit angry. „We've known each other for years, dammit. But I guess you rather talk to that veck you've met last month, eh? What do you see in him?“

That last sentence of his sounds almost desperate. I let out a deep, annoyed sigh, not in the mood to deal with Georgie's bloody jealousy.

„You sound like some devotchka from some soap-opera, you know that?“ I shoot a bitter smirk back at him. „I don't think I can explain to you what I 'see in him', Georgie. Could you explain what you see in me?“

Silence. Seems he didn't expect that question.

„You want to know what I see in you? You want an honest answer?“ he responds. „I still see the malchick I got to know in the school hallway who wanted to blow everything up. Who told me how stupid everyone is for believing in a system of made up rules, a system of lies. You know... I had never heard anyone say anything like that at that time, not even Pete and Dim.“

Of course not, I think to myself. Dim isn't smart enough to recognize any patterns in society, and Pete doesn't speak enough to say sentences of that length.

„This might sound stupid, I know,“ Georgie then says. „But I liked the way you talked. How you viewed things. You made me feel less... misplaced in the world.“ He laughs quietly. „And I guess, behind your egoism and all that asshole-ish behaviour... that's what I still see in you.“

Well. Now I'm the one who's silent.

„Okay. Right,“ I say after a while. „So... you had an answer to that question, apparently. But I don't have one. I can't tell you what I see in Phil.“

Or maybe I could. Maybe it's just the same thing that Georgie just explained to me, what he sees in me. Someone who makes me feel less misplaced. And at the same time challenges my worldview... in a way.

„God,“ Georgie says quietly and lets out another little chuckle. „You're such a fucking jerk. But I... feel bad for you.“

I chuckle as well.

„Yeah. I feel bad for me, too,“ I mumble, turn away again and close my eyes. I can't just pretend he's not there though. I can feel his breath tickling my neck.

„Shit, Alex,“ he whispers. „You let me fuck you, you let me use you like a little slut. But you can't simply... talk to me, huh?“

Why do his slovos sting in a way? Oh, please.

„I'm not a slut. I like sex. I like sex without all the gloopy complications that other people seem to like so much.“

„Oh yeah, the 'gloopy complications'. What is so complicated though?“ he asks, leans closer to me and strokes over my back. I shudder. „Or why is it more complicated with me than it is with... him?“

Fuck. Bloody hell.

„Didn't you make it complicated yourself for a while? Instead of just telling me that you wanna fuck me, you kept calling me a faggot and all that cal. And apparently, you have a bolshy problem accepting that you're one yourself.“ I glare at him coldly. „Not to mention your little betrayal, going to Billyboy and all.“

„Yes...“ Georgie looks to the ground. Probably guilty. „That was... not okay. I'm still really sorry.“

I'm not sure why this image pops up in my gulliver right now, but I suddenly remember that conversation I had with Georgie some weeks ago in school. Pete and Dim were out on the schoolyard while Georgie and I were in the hallway, hissing at each other. It was the day he confessed his betrayal to me. And also brought up how he introduced me to the others. And that he was angry at me for the way I treated him. All that. It was shortly before the day we had our first kiss with each other.

I viddy him in my mind, pinning me against the wall in the hallway that day, telling me how hurt he is with fucking tears in his eyes. I've seen him cry, too, yes. We've both seen each other being vulnerable.

„You only want someone to fuck you, right?“ Georgie asks me, making me look up and listen to him attentively. „At least that's what you say. And maybe also what you think – that you want someone to have rough sex with, but in the opposite way as usual, hm? You just want to lean back and let it happen and feel the thrill of being... stripped of all your control. And after that, you instantly want it all back because, once the adrenaline wears off, it's suddenly scary to not be the one who controls everything. Isn't that right?“

I bite my lip. Is that really Georgie? Or is it some kind of Phil-clone hiding under a Georgie-mask?

„Since when do you analyze me like that, brother?“ I retort, probably a bit too defiantly. „Yes, I like giving up the control now and then. It feels good to be, you know... at someone's mercy, to not know what will happen next. But only as long as I know that I can have the control back afterwards, you're right.“ I lean a bit closer to him now and smirk. „I also just like the feeling of a hard fuck. I like pain. I like the kick. Is that so wrong to you? What do you not understand about it?“

„Oh, I think I do understand it,“ Georgie says, now smirking as well. Only a little. „You're a little masochist. You've explored your sadistic side for years, so now the opposite is even more exciting, hm? I understand that perfectly well. You like extremes.“ I'm not sure if I really enjoy how Georgie is analyzing me. Especially since he's right about all those things but at the same time looking at me as if he knew more than I do. „It's all just a game for you, isn't it?“ he goes on. „But I don't think that's really how it is. You wanted it to be a game at first, and then it became more and you realized it's... real. And now you can't deal with that. You realized you're feeling too much, and that's why you were crying like a little child.“

„I don't like how you're talking to me, brother,“ I snarl at him. „What's this new... attitude of yours? You're govoreeting like a damn therapist. Did your crush on me make you go a bit bezoomny perhaps?“

„I don't think so,“ Georgie responds, too confidently for my taste. „What if I've been having these thoughts for a long time already? I've always thought about you. I've just... shut up about it until now.“

He thought about me.

My mind is trying to process this information in some way, but failing.

„Why do you all spend your time thinking about, like, how my gulliver works, hm? First Phil, now you. Why, Georgie? If you managed to shut up about it for all this time, why do you feel the need to play the therapist now?“

„Because I fucking care about you, you idiot,“ he scoffs, and I breathe in sharply as he grabs my shirt and pulls me close to himself. „I hate you sometimes,“ he says with a sort of vulnerable goloss. „But I still... don't want to see you suffer like that, you know? Maybe I kinda like seeing you suffer in certain other situations, I won't deny that – but not like this. I don't want to see you sob in some other veck's arms, do you understand that?“

He looks at me in a way he has probably never looked at me before – or maybe I've just never noticed –, and then he wraps his arms around me, brothers. Very tight.

„Why don't you fucking talk to me anymore...?“ he almost whispers, the frustration (no... pain) in his goloss making me want to scream. But there's no energy left in my plott to do that.

I'm silent because I don't know what to say. I can't think of anything. So I say nothing. After a moment though, I slowly lean against him and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Georgie lets out a soft sigh, loosens his grip around me a little and then rests his litso against the crook of my neck.

„I'll... try to talk to you,“ I say quietly. „Alright? I'll try...“

„Please, do that.“ He moves away a little bit to be able to look at me, and I shiver slightly as his hand touches mine. „I won't ever betray you again. You can trust me... okay? Just try to act a little less like an egocentric prick sometimes maybe,“ he says with a little shaky chuckle and then slowly adds: „Let's try to just... be friends.“

„Friends,“ I repeat, chuckling kinda the same way as he did. „You sure you want that? Not... more?“

Georgie halts for a while before he responds.

„In an ideal reality – I would like to be your friend, just like we were in the beginning, and at the same time... keep touching you the way I do.“ He looks to the side. „But also... I wouldn't mind having more moments like this, right now...“

Moments like this. Meaning moments where we hug each other? Or moments where we viddy each other in a way nobody else has viddied us before? Well, in my case, Phil has, at least. He has viddied me in all kinds of situations already. Do I want Georgie to be just as close to me as Phil? I don't know if that would work, if I could bear that. But maybe... maybe if Phil isn't the only one I can talk to, the only one who gets me, who makes me feel so good... maybe then the thought of losing him wouldn't be so extremely painful anymore.

„I see,“ I finally respond to him. And then, after taking another breath, I hesitantly lean closer once more and, kind of awkwardly, kiss his lips, making him moan quietly against my mouth. It takes him two or three seconds until he kisses me back – not rough and dominant this time. It's more like our first kiss. Kind of careful and, well, a bit shy. But it's not so bad. I can feel in his kiss that he... cares about me, a lot, and as strange as that might be, it somehow feels nice.

When he pulls away, his eyes are still closed, and when he opens them, he looks a malenky bit frightened, maybe.

„Don't play with me, droogie,“ he says. I shake my head.

„I don't. Not playing, I swear.“

„Good. Okay.“ He gazes at the wall for a long moment. „I... Maybe I should go now.“

„Really? Why?“

„I just... I think I need some time for myself, alright? I came here to see if you're okay, and... well, apparently you're okay-ish.“ He laughs quietly. „Just talk to me next time you're... not okay. Like you would talk to Phil. Alright?“

„Righty right. Yes.“

Then he gives me another little smile, and before one of us can say anything else, he's already up up up again, opening the door and just glancing at me briefly over his pletcho before he disappears and leaves me alone again. Aloen with those thoughts about relationships and trust, all those veshches I've never known in my life before. Why is it that after all the time I wasn't even interested in something romantic (if I might call it that), I suddenly have not only one but two bloody relationships of that sort? It's all confusing, brothers. And this confusion makes me tired. Really, I need some rest, and I almost feel like I've grown into some starry veck over the last days or weeks who doesn't find much joy in anything anymore because everything is exhausting. Well, I do still find joy in various things. In the old in-out-in-out, of course, and in my lovely Ludwig Van. But the joy doesn't last for so long anymore, it's like the moment is over so quickly, and then I'm only left with this feeling of emptiness; as if I'm waiting for something else; as if I need more than I can have. I can't explain it. Everything is strange these days.

„Alex?“

My Em's goloss sounds from the other side of the door, and as if I hadn't already slooshed her very clearly, she also knocks.

„What is it, me Em?“ I shout, too resigned to tell her that I'm busy, as I usually do. The door opens and she gives me a look full of surprise.

„Can I come in?“ she asks timidly. I shrug.

„Sure. You're already in anyway.“

She proceeds to look surprised and then, after an eternity of just standing there, sits down next to me on the bed, like Georgie did before.

„Alex... uhm,“ she stutters. „I never really knew how to tell you this, but... I'm worried about you, my son.“

Now I'm the one who's surprised.

„Worried? And why's that?“

„Well...“ She pauses, apparently searching for slovos, and then gives me some weird, helpless kind of smile. „How about we all have a little talk? You, your Dad and I?“

It's getting weirder and weirder. But I nod slowly.

„Alright? If you need a talk with your only son, o me Em, how could I deny you that?“

She smiles again, gets up from my bed, and we go to the living room where my Pe sits at the table and smiles at me the same gloopy way, patting the chair next to his.

„Son,“ he says kinda solemnly. „Come, sit with Mom and me, hm?“

A certain fear grips me as I sit down next to him, followed by my Em who sits down at the other side of the table. Did they figure out anything about what I'm doing with my droogs? What do they know?

Or did they find out anything about Phil and me?

„You're very often... absent,“ Pe says. „I know, I know, you have your mini-jobs at night,“ he goes on – it is something I've told him and Em so they don't question my said 'absence', „but recently, you... you've stayed away from home a lot more. Even over night.“ He looks at my Em briefly before his gaze drops. He's tense. „We would like to know where you are and what you do when you're not home.“

„We're concerned about you, that's all!“ my Em adds, as if she's scared she or Pe might get tolchoked for asking me that. So Phil was right after all – they do get worried when I stay away for too long. Who would've known.

„You don't have to be worried about me, my Pe and Em. I'm taking good care of meself, I assure you. And when I stay away overnight, well, I'm with me droogies, I mean, my friends. Absolutely nothing to worry about!“

„Your friends?“ Em repeats, not convinced, as it seems.

„But... son,“ Pe then says. „That's not all. You're not only, uhm... physically absent.“

„Yes!“ Em chimes in with her shrill goloss. „Dad is right. You often look like something's wrong. Even like...“ She pauses. „Like you've, well, cried...“

„Huh. What?“ I laugh at that. Even though I don't feel like laughing. „What are you telling me, hm? You think I'm sitting alone in my room, boo-hoo-hoo-ing like some lovesick little ptitsa?“

„We didn't say you're lovesick, son,“ Pe says with raised eyebrows, and I want to tolchok myself for having said something so suspicious. „But whatever it is you're struggling with – you know you can, well... talk to us, right?“

Em nods euphorically until her gulliver almost falls off.

„It's also very normal to feel like that at your age,“ she explains, and I roll my eyes. „Puberty is complicated, there's nothing to be ashamed of, really!“

„But now that you mentioned it,“ Pe continues, „is there maybe... a girl you like? You can tell us.“

„Oh Bog,“ I groan. „Are you serious? No, there's no girl, and I'm not boo-hoo-hoo-ing and eating tons of ice cream because some devotchka told me she has a boyfriend and doesn't want to go out with me, if that's what you think.“

And stop telling me it's 'normal', I want to say to them. Nothing's normal. I'm not part of your 'normal little world' where you marry and have kids and go rabbit every day.

Pe and Em give each other a gloopy look. Then Pe turns to me again and smiles.

„Alex,“ he says. „Would you like to... watch a film with us, maybe?“

„Where does that come from all of a sudden?“ I ask, real confused now.

„It's nothing– We just thought... Maybe it would be nice if we would do more together, you know? As a... family.“

That honestly makes me laugh.

„As a family, eh? Well, well! Alright! What do you want to watch? I can't guarantee I'll be interested in it though.“

„Oh, you can pick!“ Em giggles, gesturing towards the shelf where they keep their video tapes. „Choose whatever you'd like!“

Should I be concerned? This is a bit suspicious, brothers. But, actually... Why not. Maybe a film takes my mind off of all these veshches going on in my gulliver a bit. So I walk over to the shelf to viddy what there is to watch – which isn't that much. And most of it looks pretty boring. Some of it looks sort of interesting (there's something with Gene Wilder and something with, I don't know, hippies, I guess), but one film catches my attention a bit more than the others.

„Okay, my Pe and Em. I'll pick this then.“

Em gives me a confused look with her big, wide glazzies once again.

„'Singing in the Rain'? That's a musical from the 50s, Alex,“ she says with a litso as if I'd just told her that I want to swallow a living fish whole while dancing Kalinka. „Are you sure that's something you would... enjoy?“

„Pretty sure, yes,“ I respond and press the movie into her rook. „I know the song from it. Have been curious about the film since.“

Another exchange of weird looks between them both.

„Well... okay!“ Em says, now smiling again very widely. „Then sit down on the couch and get comfortable. Do you want to, uhm, eat something?“

„We don't have popcorn, unfortunately, but... you could have a sandwich?“ Pe adds, and hell, they're really making it as awkward as it can get.

„Yeah, alright. I'll have a sandwich then,“ I say and make myself comfortable on the couch, as my Em said I should. Why not have a relaxed evening with a snack and a nice video, right?

Em smiles at Pe, gives him the tape and goes to the kitchen with the slovos „Don't wait for me, I'll join you later“, and Pe just nods before he crouches down in front of the video recorder to make it start. I fold my arms behind my gulliver and wait.

It's been a very long time, brothers, since we had such a 'family-evening' together, my Pe, Em and I. Very long, I tell you. Must've been, like, seven or eight years ago? All I remember is that I was quite the little malchick and we watched some gloopy cartoon or something together. And even back then, it felt unnatural. Now it feels beyond wrong to be surrounded by those two on the couch and pretend we're close in any way, so I just concentrate on the film and on munchiwunching my sandwich. Which makes me feel a little awkward as well because it reminds me of Phil and our breakfasts together, and I have to suppress the thoughts, the desire to sit beside him instead of my Pe and Em now.

However, time passes by somehow, and Em giggles and claps her rooks together as she watches the famous scene with that veck dancing through the rain with his umbrella, and then she turns to me, apparently remembering that I'm here as well.

„And... are you enjoying the film, Alex?“ she asks, sounding as if she doesn't expect me to say 'Yes'.

„I do. And I'd like you to keep your rot shut while I'm trying to listen, alright?“

„Don't talk to your mother like that,“ Pe says in the same tone his goloss has when he says „Oh, bad weather today, isn't it?“

„And how should I talk to my Em then, o my Pe?“

It takes him a moment to respond.

„Well... You could be a bit friendlier sometimes, to begin with.“

„It's okay, Dad, don't scold him like that. He's right, I should be quiet,“ Em then says, and it makes me scoff how she still calls him 'Dad', as she already did when I was little. Maybe she thinks she has to call him that to remind me everyday that this veck is my father. Or maybe it's just her kink.

„No,“ Pe says hesitantly, „it's... not really okay, right?“ He turns to me again. „Alex,“ he says, pseudo-strictly, „I know that your Mom has talked to that... that man, your private tutor.“

Well, that catches my attention now.

„She has?“

„Yes. And she thinks he's very... good for you.“ He pauses. „I'm not so sure about that, son. Since you have your meetings with him, you constantly look... well, depressed, in a way.“

„Oh, come on,“ Em chimes in, giving Pe a disappointed look now. „That doesn't have anything to do with Mr. Gravarg. It can't have anything to do with him, he is such a nice young man!“

Mr. Gravarg. Slooshing her say that name makes me shudder.

„Yes, but you have noticed it, too, haven't you? Our son is not well lately, and of course he won't talk about it, but... there has to be a reason for it, right?“

„Shut up,“ I now snarl at him with a cold glance. „Talking about me as if I'm not in the same room, eh? Em is right for once. It doesn't have anything to do with Phil. Alright?“

They both stare back at me now as if there's something in my litso.

„Phil?“ Pe repeats, and that's all he says. Em lets out one of her typical histrionic sighs.

„He is helping him,“ she assures Pe. „It is not Mr. Gravarg's fault, I'm sure of that! My talk with him was great, he is sweet and caring and so understanding... What a good man, really!“

I think I'm gonna throw up once more, slooshing her swooning over Phil with that crazy, bolshy smile. She isn't wrong though. He is a good man, I guess. Still, what I said was kind of a lie – my state does have something to do with him, doesn't it? But I can't explain that to my Pe and Em, oh no. I can't and I won't, and this whole sitting-together-with-them was ridiculous from the start.

„I'll go to my room.“

„But Alex...!“ Em whines as I get up from the couch. „We haven't even finished the film!“

„Too bad, isn't it? Maybe some other day. Have a nice rest-evening, you two!“

And as I return to my realm, I have no clue if me Em is boo-hoo-hoo-ing in the living room and if Pe is trying to calm her down, or if they're going to have a fight because she obviously has a not so secret crush on that certain private tutor of mine, or if they're just going to continue watching that film together without uttering another slovo about Phil or me or what's going wrong in everyone's life. I have not a single clue. And honestly, I don't care.

There's a quiet whirring noise and I'm not sure if it comes from the lamp (that produces such a dim, eerie light, it's almost a bit otherworldly) or from anything else. The walls are full of graffiti, even more than they were ten years ago. I don't even know why it's possible that I'm here, in one of the rest rooms of my old school, at night. Shouldn't the building be locked? But for some reason it isn't, and now I'm standing here, alone, in front of the mirror, slowly breathing in and out, in and out, while I'm looking at this guy that's gotten so many beatings in this very building, even in this very room, a long time ago. So many moments of terror. All the trauma of my life leads to this place.

He was right, I think to myself, I'm still this victim that I already was as a teenager.

Yes, That's what Alex said. I hate to admit it, but he was absolutely correct about it. I can't shake it off, it's always been a part of me, it's always following me everywhere. And the way I reacted to the things he did, to what he said to me that day I caught him with his droogs and that girl? It was the reaction of someone deeply disturbed, wasn't it? Of someone who has never processed anything that has happened in his life.

So, now I'm here again, in this fucked up place that has made me the disturbed person I am, and it feels like no time has passed at all since I was here for the last time – which is partly because my reflection staring back at me looks almost exactly like the me from back then as well. And that's because I made myself look like him again, cut my hair to shoulder-length, shaved my face and also put a little black on my eyes.

Why did I do that? Have I gone crazy now? Maybe. Do I really want to have all those flashbacks and feel like I'm my 17 or 18 year old self again? No. But I feel like it's something I just have to get through.

Maybe cutting off one's hair isn't that big of a deal really, and shaving or wearing a little black eyeliner isn't either. But this combination of all three... I can't get over how young I look again. I didn't change much, did I? My face has barely aged, and without the little anchor beard I started to wear after school and have constantly worn until now, people could really take me for a teenager again.

I'm focused on my reflection in the mirror, so absorbed in this feeling of age regression that I'm confused for a moment to see my face without any bruises or other kinds of injuries. Oh, it was bruised so many times when I looked at it like this, here in this place.

Exhaling slowly, I turn away from the mirror, turn off the light and open the door to leave the rest room. The hallway is dark, but there's a faint light coming from somewhere, so it's possible to at least see something. Some of the lockers look really battered and the overall atmosphere in here reminds me of a fucking horror movie. If you'd watch this on your screen, you would already know that there's a serial killer hiding somewhere in the shadows.

I wonder if there's someone else in here who has turned one of the lights on and if that's also the reason the door wasn't locked. The thought that someone might have broken into this building makes me panic internally for a moment, but I tell myself to calm down. It could be Alex, I think and laugh quietly about that thought. Who knows, it's possible. Maybe he's here with another innocent girl he wants to assault. But if that was the case, I would probably hear something. Her screams and his chuckles. Wow, that's dark.

It doesn't seem very likely to me though. Alex probably has a hangover, and after his emotional outburst yesterday, I can't really imagine that he's already doing that kind of stuff again. At least I hope so.

I shake my head slightly; I don't want to think about Alex now. But how should I not think about him? After everything that happened, everything I've already been through with him in this short time we've known each other – and also being in this place that reminds me all too well of my past-bullies who were, coincidentally, some kind of teenage gang just like Alex's 'droogs'... Well, given all these factors, it's nearly impossible not to think about him.

While my thoughts have been elsewhere, I've walked aimlessly through this building, just to notice now that I'm walking straight towards the door of my old classroom. Seems this door is locked though. So, not everything is open for everyone here. Too bad. I would've loved to see if that room has changed in any way or if it's still exactly what it was when I sat there as a 17-year-old, at that dark wooden desk with various things carved into it. Letters and hearts and, of course, genitals. I bet it's still the same.

A sudden noise jolts me out of my thoughts, and I have no clue what it was – did someone throw a little rock against a window? –, but it makes me panic again. Images are rushing through my head, potential scenarios.

Someone knows I am here, a voice in my head whispers. They all know it. Of course, they always know where I am. They're coming for me.

My pulse quickens rapidly and I'm sweating.

„Look, it's the little witch!“, the guy says with this certain grin that never leaves his face. „All alone here at night, huh?“

The others laugh with him as they come closer, and the look on his face is one of pure malice as he pulls out his jackknife. They corner me. I can't do anything. They will do it again, again and again, they will never stop, they will never stop...

A sound escapes my throat, some kind of strangled scream, and luckily, that helps pulling me out of the horrors my fucking brain just made up, trying to make me believe they're real.
It's not real, I tell myself. It's not real.

I'm clutching at my arm, I notice, so tight that I'm hurting myself, and I'm trembling. I'm cold. Shit. Fucking shit.

„I'm fine,“ I mumble, chuckling quietly as if I've totally lost my mind. I probably have. „I'm good. There's no one there. Maybe a stupid bird crashed against the window. Whatever!“

I can't stop laughing for some reason.

„There's no one here, goddamit. And even if there was – I'm not scared of you anymore, fucking PIECES OF SHIT! You wanna threaten me again? Wanna beat me up again, insult me, tell me what an ugly, freaky faggot I am? Wanna swing your knife in front of me again and threaten to cut something off me, huh?! Goddamn, FUCK OFF!!“

My voice echoes from the walls, and I should be shocked by how loud I was, I should be ashamed of the fact that I'm walking around in my old school after having cut my hair in a fit of... I don't even know what. A desire to face my past, to face my demons? Whatever it is, I should be ashamed – for not only looking but also acting like someone who's far from being an adult. But I'm not ashamed in this moment. All I feel is rage. Hatred.

„You didn't destroy me,“ I hiss, now quieter, before I finally begin to walk again. „I'm still here, I'm still alive, fucking assholes.“

But as I walk towards the school's exit to leave it behind and crawl back into my safe space, I know that I'm lying to myself.

They have destroyed me. And to this day, I've been unable to put myself back together.

Chapter Text

Three years. I've waited for this to happen for three years, or maybe even more.

Alex was 12 three years ago, I was thirteen.We've met for the first time when he was 11. And in the beginning, everything was cool. We were friends. Probably what a 'normal' friendship is like. We hung out together, at his place and mine; we had friendly fights with each other now and then; we tried our first cigarette together in some dark alley. And we talked. A lot.

And then our relationship changed because I made the mistake of introducing him to Pete and Dim, and then the mistake of not having a serious talk with him earlier when I noticed that his ego grew bigger and bigger, that he began to viddy himself as our big boss of some sorts. That was the time all the attention he suddenly had from us all turned him into a bolshy asshole. And I didn't want to admit it back then, I was far from admitting it – but I already missed how it's been before. How he could distract me from the dull life I was used to. From my family-life, from everything that pissed me off so badly. And realizing how much I missed that, that's when I also realized that the thought of him... did something to me, something weird that I had never felt with anyone else before. And still haven't to this day.

Now I'm sitting here with him, on the same bench I've viddied him sitting on the other day with his oh so great Phil-veck. His uncle, Alex said. Hah. Uncle my ass.

To be honest, the veck doesn't even seem so bad. At least he really cares about Alex, that doesn't go without notice. I don't know why the hell he cares so much about him after the short time they've known each other, and I guess he also has to be kinda sick in the head to fall for Alex DeLarge, out of all people – both considering how old that veck is and also... everything else really. But I'm not blind. I can see that there's something between them, something that Alex really cherishes. I just hate that this Phil is the one he has that 'something' with. Because I was there first, I've been there so fucking much longer than him.

Well, now I'm the one sitting next to Alex on this bench, not Phil, and now he's talking to me. Venting to me about his Pe and Em, how they don't get him (oh, it's not the first time I hear him say that) and how annoyed he is by their behaviour. How pathetic he thinks it is that they pretend to act like parents, scolding him, trying to get him to talk about stuff, trying to treat him like their son but failing horribly at all of that, and how he just can't respect them because they're nothing but wimps. I'm not sure what to say to that. Honestly, I wish I had his parents, I would trade my own family for his anytime. But I still understand him, in a way. He doesn't fit in there. They really don't get him. I'm not sure anyone does, that Phil-veck and me included. And yet I enjoy it so much, sitting here with him and listening to him venting, showing him that I care about him, too. I am clinging to this moment as if it's the most special thing that could happen to me, like an idiot doing everything for his crush, laughing about that person's jokes even though they're not funny and all that other cal. But I don't care anymore, I don't care if it makes me an idiot and I don't even care if it makes me a faggot or whatever. All I wanna do is keep being here with him and feel like I'm the only one he vents to like that; like there's nobody else he's close to in any way. Like it's just him and me against the world, just like it was in the beginning.

Alex smirks in a sarcastic way and takes a sip of his drink he bought earlier – a milkshake, alcohol- and drug-free. I got the same.

„Everything sucks,“ he says with that bitter smirk, but I think he's not only bitter. Or at least I hope so. He's said that same sentence in the beginning of our friendship, too, because it was true. It was true then and it is now. But that's where our connection came from, I guess. The fact that everything around us sucks.

„Don't let it get to you, droogie,“ I say, trying to sound casual, while I throw my empty cup in the trash bin. „Things will change. At some point they will, I'm sure. And even when everything's crappy... you know that we're in the same boat, right?“

He smiles at me.

„Right-right,“ he says, halts and then places his hand on my noga and kisses me. I tense a little, I'm not used to doing this outside – I'm not really used to all this yet anyway! But I smile as well and kiss him back, and I think I feel... happy. Finally I have him back for myself, even if it's just now and then.

The nice moment doesn't last very long though, and the next moment, I can sloosh some very nasty snickering voices that make me flinch and move away from Alex reflexively. Alex himself frowns and then freezes, and as I realize whose voices we're hearing, I understand why.

„Welly welly welly well!“ that shitface Billyboy laughs as he and his droogs come out of the shadows and approach us, and I have a sense of foreboding. „Who would've thought? You two, eh?“

I bite my lip, hard, but I can't respond. I think I've lost my voice.

„Oh, are you speechless?“ that other asshole, Leo, asks while the others are still snickering. „Thought you were undisturbed out here?“

„We better itty off, huh? Leave them alone so they can smoochie-smooch and all,“ another one of them whose name I don't know giggles, and they all start laughing again. My tension rises, but I keep sitting there, frozen in place, not able to process that those motherfuckers really saw me kissing Alex. This has to be a fucking nightmare.

„Well, and now?“ I hear Alex say next to me, and I look at him, kinda shocked. I'm not sure what I'm even shocked by. The fact that he doesn't try to deny it? Well, how could he, they have seen us, obviously. What should Alex say? That he accidentally fell on my mouth? „What're you gonna do now, hm?“ he asks them instead, a smirk on his face that's dripping with contempt. They only respond with more laughing and grinning though.

„What we're gonna do? Hmmm, let me think,“ Leo says, exchanging a look with Billyboy who then continues to speak for him.

„How about...“ He comes closer to us, leaning forward so I can smell his awful stench of old chip oil. „How about we'll make sure everyone in skolliwoll knows about it, too? They should all, like, share in your sweet bliss of love... shouldn't they?“

And that makes me jump to my feet and stare at that ugly fucker with pure hatred.

„What's wrong with you, dammit?!“ I shout at him, my fists clenching. „It's not... anyone's business, alright? You will keep that to yourself, you hear me?“

I sound like a coward, oh Bog, I'm almost begging him, ain't I? And Billy seems to feel very entertained because of that.

„Or what?“ he retorts. „Why did you even tell me about Lexy's little secret, eh? Bet you wanted to join my droogies when they had their fun with him, and then you bottled it, huh?“

„Remember how he came running to us a bit later to boo-hoo-hoo about how we 'shouldn't have done all that'?“ Leo scoffs. „Suddenly feeling bad for your sweetheart, huh?“ he says and then looks over to Alex with a purely malicious smirk. „And, Lexy? How's Georgie-boy in bed, hm? Are your experiences with him as satisfying as it was with us?“

„Shut the hell up or you will regret it!“ I spit at Leo who comes closer to me as well with such a smug expression that I just want to punch him.

„I will regret it? Really? What do you wanna do, little devotchka?“

At that, I really lose it and my rook gets ready to tolchok all by itself, but before I can hit him, he has grabbed my wrist and hit me, with his knee in my stomach.

„Fuck you!“ Alex shouts at them, and I'm not sure what's happening next because I've sunken to my knees, but I see that Alex is standing there now, in front of me, and I think he's holding a knife against Leo's throat. „You think this is real funny? Are you enjoying yourselves? Piss off!“ he hisses and then turns to Billyboy with his knife. „I don't want to viddy your stinky litso here anymore, or I swear, you will later wish you'd never been born, you pathetic egg of a tapeworm.“

There's a moment of silence after that, and during that moment, I get to my feet again, angry at myself that I wasn't even able to do anything and just let my guard down like that. I must've been too distracted. By this whole situation, by all the thoughts rushing through my head...

„Let's go, boys,“ that fuckface Billyboy says. „Let's look for some devotchkas, huh?“

His ugly group of droogs nods and they turn around, not without some of them shooting another glance at us over their pletchos and spitting to the ground, as if to prove a point with that. And then they're gone.

„You okay?“ Alex turns to me and lets out a dry and bitter chuckle. „One day I'm gonna kill them.“

„They want to let the whole school know about– Shit, fucking shit...“

„Hey.“ He places one hand on my shoulder, making me shudder. I'm really not used to comforting gestures from Alex DeLarge. „They're just bluffing. How should they do that? They have nothing to prove it. Govoreeting bullshit as always.“

„Hmm...“ I'm not convinced. But he's probably right. As if those asshats could really accomplish anything. „Thanks,“ I mumble, looking to the side.

„Nothing to thank me for, brother. I would've defended you before you got tolchoked, but I was too slow,“ Alex says. And then he does something I would've never expected in a thousand years. He puts his arms around me. He hugs me. Not as a reaction to me hugging him, no, out of his own motivation. I'm kinda paralyzed for an instant, but then, of course, I hug him back and close my eyes, a strange feeling coming over me, something like... relief? I'm not sure what it is, but it feels like a weight being lifted from my shoulders. Leaning against him like this, him and me standing together, as a team. That's what I've been waiting for for so long.

„Well... It's getting late, right? Maybe we should go home,“ I suggest when he lets go of me again, and he nods, looking somewhere else.

„Yes. Maybe.“

It's better. I might feel a bit too shaken, if that's the right slovo, to spend more time with him right now, and maybe he feels the same way. Fucking Billyboy, fucking Leo. Fuck them all. They've destroyed our evening that was so nice until they appeared.

„Alright then,“ Alex says, smiles at me briefly and gives me a last pat on the shoulder. „I... enjoyed this. Hanging out with you. We should do that again some time.“

„Yeah. We should.“

„Yeah.“ He takes a deep breath, and I can see that he's not as calm as he wants me to think he is. „Viddy you then,“ he finally says, and only after I've forced myself to smile back at him, he turns around and goes. I stand there in front of the bench for a while longer before I go home as well.

Something is strange, my brothers. I don't know where I am. What is this? A... chamber? It's dark. And cold. Not pleasant at all.

There are laughing voices from somewhere, and, oh, I think I have heard a similar shoom not long ago, but it's also different, like, it's not the exact same voices as before. The way they're laughing is the same though, it sounds... vicious. But for some reason I don't even want to tolchok them, no. Or maybe I do, maybe I really want to, but I know that I can't, that I could never, that I will forever be stuck here, in this chamber, this darkness, in myself, and that the laughing will never stop. Bog, what is this?

Suddenly I'm aware of something else. I'm not even myself, am I? No. Who am I even? But then it hits me.

I'm Phil. I am Phillip Gravarg, and I am stuck in some horrorshow hole that is so deep I just can't get out of it, somewhere underneath the earth, and the vecks who have put me in here are standing somewhere outside and laugh and laugh and laugh.

My poor heart is pounding like cal when I wake up and stare into the darkness. At least it's the darkness of my own room though, my lovely room I know very well, with Ludwig Van's litso on my wall and my dear Basil lying on the blanket, down at my feet. Oh, thank Bog.

I didn't have nightmares like that for years. No, I've never had a nightmare like this at all, a dream in which I wasn't even myself but another person that I know. I must've projected all the veshches I said to Phil onto myself – what I said to him about being a victim and all. Looks like I do have some empathy then, haven't I? At least I've felt in that dream what he must be feeling, what he must be carrying around on his pletchos all the time, and I can certainly say, it wasn't very nice, really wasn't. And now I feel kinda bad for having talked to him the way I did on that day. That day he caught me and my droogies doing our... thing.

I try to relax, try to not think about it all any further, and just continue to sleep. But I can't, there's no way I can just fall asleep again after this, with all those thoughts in my gulliver.

Phil, I think to myself. We haven't talked since I spent the night with him after that crazy trip I had in the Korova. And of course we weren't, well, intimate that night either. We've barely been intimate lately in general, as you know, brothers. Unlike Georgie and I, us bolshy sex-machines, never getting tired. Although I guess it's not only sex anymore between us. If it was only that, he would be no different from all the devotchkas to me – apart from the fact that he's a malchick and that I enjoy him being dominant while doing it. But it's not just that. We have talked today, he has listened to me. It was cool, I won't deny it. If only that stinky Billygoat and his stinky gruppa of bratchnies wouldn't have interrupted us. The mere thought of their gloopy, grinning litsos makes me all razdraz.

Anyway. No matter how it was with Georgie today and no matter how much I enjoy it when he fucks me, I can't stop thinking about Phil right now. And I think I need to see him. So I sit up on my beddy-bed, pet Basil absently and look at the clock. 2:53. Alright.

„You can call me whenever you want, no matter the reason.“

Phil said that to me the first night we spent together, or, no, not the night but the next day. Shortly before I left and found my droogies waiting nearby. (I know by now that they viddied me passing by with Phil the first night and spontaneously decided to follow us in case I was planning to rob him or something, so they could come and help me and all that, brothers. But when they peeked through the window and viddied me sitting on the couch with him, they ittied home and came back the next day to viddy if I'm still there. They actually waited there for, like, three hours or something. But well, that's my droogies, I guess.) Whatever. I quietly go to the living room, all nagoy apart from my shorts, take the phone from the shelf and dial Phil's number. And after just some seconds, he really picks up.

„Uuh... Gravarg?“

„Hey. It's me,“ I say quietly, even though I'm quite sure my Pe and Em won't wake up anyway. They sleep like a log when they take their little pills.

„Alex?“ he says, kind of surprised, as it seems. „Is... everything okay?“

„I... I want to see you, Phil. Now.“

„What?“ He laughs. „In the middle of the night?“

„Yes.“ I smirk a little. „You weren't even sleeping, were you? You don't sound like you were.“

„No, you're right. You know that I have a messed up rhythm.“ Silence. „Why do you want to see me? I mean... why now?“

„I just– I was thinking about you. And I couldn't sleep anymore. I mean it, I need to see you now.“

Again, there's silence.

„Okay...! You know what? Come over. Why not,“ he says, and he sounds like he's half-amused, half in disbelief. Well, I can understand that, he probably doesn't often get phone calls at 3am.

„Great,“ I just respond, smiling. „I'll be on my way.“

With that I hang up, put on some platties and get ready to leave the house while my Pe and Em are still in their dream-land where they're probably rabbiting or reading the news; at least I have no clue what else they would dream about.

When Phil opens the door for me though, I don't believe my glazzies for a moment.

„Wow,“ I say and chuckle, a bit stunned. „Is that really you?“

He has... changed, brothers. It takes me a moment to even notice what exactly is different, but then I know. The hair in his litso is gone, his skin now being smooth everywhere, and the hair on his gulliver is shorter. Still long for a veck, but at least four or five inches are missing. And now I notice he's also wearing a bit of black make up around his eyes.

„It's me, believe me,“ he says a bit sheepishly. „Not my evil twin brother or anything. Come in, will you?“

I nod and follow him into his living room, standing face to face with him. Bog, he looks... young. Almost as if he could be someone from skolliwoll, not really older than my droogs and me. My gloopy heart beats faster for some reason.

„You said you were thinking of me?“ he asks, and I try to focus on him – on what he says to me, I mean.

„Yeah. I, uhm...“ Should I tell him about this weird nightmare? No. For some reason, it makes me feel too vulnerable to mention that to anyone. Even to him. „I just... Holy fuck, Phil, what have you done with your... look?“

He lets out a bashful little laughter and turns to the side a bit. Damn. It's really cute.

„I... felt like changing something,“ he just says. „It's not even that much, but it really makes a difference, right?“

„It does. Some people might even think I'm the older one of us now.“ My laugh probably sounds just as bashful as his. Bog, I might be falling for him even more right now. But I don't really believe that he 'just felt like changing something'. „Did you look like this as a teenager? When you were with, uh... your ex that I remind you of?“

His eyebrows go up very much and he laughs once more.

„Oh,“ he says, as if I caught him doing something naughty. „Was it that obvious?“

I shrug.

„I don't know. Was just a thought popping up in me gulliver.“

„Hmm.“ He seems to think for a moment and then sighs. „It's... It doesn't necessarily have to do with my ex. It's more because...“ He pauses. „I keep thinking about my time in school lately. I think there's a lot... I've never really processed. And this is my stupid way of trying to face it, I guess. Looking at my younger self in the mirror. Exposure therapy. Or... something like that.“

„Self-therapy, huh?“ I give him a teasing smirk. „But you know that you're not actually looking at your younger self, right? You're looking at your current self trying to look young. But I bet as a teenager you had less wrinkles in your face.“

„Wrinkles? Come on, are you serious?“

„No. Just joking, Phil, you don't have more wrinkles than I have,“ I say, and now we're both laughing a little.

„You know,“ he then says, kind of absently, „this version of me you're seeing now – that's the real me. Shy and insecure and... awkward as hell. Feeling the urge to just hide somewhere and not having to communicate with anyone. That's how I always was. Even though I tried to come across as someone confident and fearless now and then – that's not true. Everything is a struggle. Always. Every little fucking interaction. But with... him back then, it wasn't. It was all natural. And now, with you, it's... very similar.“

I don't know what to say for a moment. So I just do what I'm best at – tease him some more.

„You seemed pretty damn confident though during that first night we spent together. Remember? The way you talked to me and all?“

„Oh yes. That sounded very confident, right? Like I'm an expert at domineering others,“ he responds with a tone as if he couldn't really believe it himself that he talked to me like that in the beginning. „Maybe that sounds like total crap to you, but that wasn't really me either. I think it was... like a role I played. The whole way I acted – that was a facade, in a way.“

„But why would you act like that if that's not really you? I thought talking to me was so natural for you?“

„It is, in some way. It's... easier than it feels with others. Because you're not like most people regarding... I don't know... weird social stuff that, uh... doesn't really make sense to me. You don't look at me as if you judge me for everything I do. You give a fuck about everything 'normal' yourself, so I feel like I can just... be myself around you. But in the beginning, I didn't really know that. And also, you being a gang-leader and all... I guess it triggered something in me, so I needed a way to cope with the situation.“ He chuckles nervously. „I mean... I needed a coping-mechanism for various reasons.“

„Yeah, I see. Reflected on yourself quite a bit, didn't you? Nice that for once it's not me you're analyzing.“

„I constantly analyze everything. Including you and myself.“

I am now imagining him sitting at his desk the whole day, making notes about me and him and several other people and writing analytical essays about them all. I can actually picture him doing that, brothers.

„I kinda like how you look now,“ I then tell him before I come a little closer and eye him from top to bottom. „You're... real hot. Real handsome.“

„Am I?“ He looks to the side again with flushed cheeks and that cute, sheepish smile, and I instantly want to kiss him. But I don't, I just keep standing there and look at him, kinda mesmerized. I don't want whatever-happened-in-this-nightmare-I-had-tonight to ever happen to him again, if it made him feel as terrible as it made me feel. „Uhm... Would you,“ he begins after some time but pauses again for a while, still not looking at me. „It's probably a weird idea. Very spontaneous and all, and maybe... very cheesy. But would you like to... drive away with me, to a place I like? It's, uh... It's a lake. I haven't been there for a while, but... it's kinda beautiful. To me, at least.“ His litso faces the floor now and another very awkward chuckle escapes him. „It's nice there while the sun rises,“ he adds, and I think he's afraid of talking too much. I don't care though how much he's talking. I want to be near him. I think I would go everywhere with him right now, as long as I can look at him and touch him and remind myself that this horrorshow pretty man is mine.

„Let's do that then,“ I just say. „Not something I'd usually do, but, you know... with you, it's going to be great.“

Now he gives me a bolshy, happy smile. And then quickly looks away again, sitting down to put on his shoes.

„Alright,“ he says, gets up again and gazes at his shelf as if he's thinking about something before he goes to said shelf and takes something out of it. „Look.“ He points at the thing he got from the shelf – a portable radio or cassette-playing-veshch or something like that. „We could take this with us. Listen to some music.“

„Sure. What's in it? Pink Floyd?“

I usually don't listen to stuff that isn't classical music. But I must admit, Pink Floyd isn't bad. I definitely enjoyed it when it was playing in the background while Phil and I had our first in-out together. He just smirks though.

„You'll see,“ he says, and after he's grabbed two bottles of water, he goes to his front door and motions for me to follow him.

Chapter Text

I'm surprised actually to see that Phil owns a car, my brothers. When he said we would drive somewhere, I should've expected it for there probably aren't any busses or trams anymore at this time. And even if there are, I can hardly imagine Phil entering such a thing voluntarily for some reason. But I can't really imagine him driving a car either. The thought is quite sexy though.

„Come in.“

He holds the door open for me, the one next to the driver's seat, after he's put the music-veshch and the water on the backseat. Of course I do and sit down very skorry, watching him get in and fasten his seat belt as well. I don't know why all this feels so... I don't even have a slovo for it. 'Exciting' is not the right slovo. Or is it? It's not the same excitement I feel when I walk around with my droogs, on the hunt for some deng or for some nice young devotchkas. Not even the same as it was when Phil tied my rooks together and treated me like his little pet. This is different. But I like it.

We drive for quite a while and I ask Phil about his car and when he got his license, and apparently, he made it as soon as he was old enough to make it, because he wanted to be able to drive away and have some alone-time instead of being trapped in his room at his Pe and Em's place all the time. They even paid the car for him because cars are a part of becoming an adult, and he used it every evening just to drive to some abandoned places or this lake he wants to show me. Just to have some time for himself. It's nice to learn more about him in some way, to picture him in his teens, and it's not even hard to picture that with how he currently looks.

After, like, half an hour or something, we're finally there and he tells me that I can get out. From there on, we've reached the place quickly, and it's indeed... quiet. Peaceful. Certainly not a location I would hang around at with my droogs. But alone, or with Phil, I can't deny that it has a certain charme. Especially under the half-lit sky.

„Isn't it beautiful?“ he asks as we walk towards the water. „I honestly don't know why I haven't come here for so long. I've always loved to just sit here, read and listen to the chirping of the birds.“

„Mhm. The chirping of the birds, right-right.“

He laughs.

„I don't care how cheesy that sounds to you. It has a very calming effect on me.“ He stops and turns to me with that shy smile that makes me real weak. „Hope you don't find it boring here though. As the adrenaline-junkie you are.“

I look around again and then give him some, like, naughty little grin.

„Who says that we can't have a malenky bit of adrenaline here?“ I ask, and the innocent look in his glazzies makes me want it even more. „Come on, Phil. Let's have some fun, eh? Let's take a bath together, yeah?“

I grab his long-sleeved black top and push it upwards, freeing him from his annoying platties, but he lets out some very cute, nervous laughing-sound and grabs my wrists before I can go on.

„I'm not sure if that's allowed, to be honest. Bathing in this lake,“ he says, as if he's a total square. „Also... I don't really want to be naked in public...“

„Yeah, yeah, I get it. You don't know how to have fun,“ I respond, still grinning. „And this is not 'public', right? Nobody's here. Except for us two.“

„Riiiiight. But someone else could come here anytime.“

„At 4-something-a.m., sure.“

I continue to push up his top as soon as his grip has loosened a little around my wrists, and he doesn't really object anymore, brothers. When I take care of his pants, he just half-heartedly puts his rooks on my pletchos.

„Wait,“ he says. „I... I'll do that myself.“

Looks like it didn't need much to convince him!

As I start to take my own platties off as well, my glazzies go to that music-playing-veshch next to Phil on the ground. He took it with him when he got out of the car, just like the bottles of water, and I can't deny that I'm curious.

„Wanna play your mysterious warbles now?“ I ask, his confused look making me laugh. „The cassette inside there, I mean.“

„Oh.“ He rearranges both of our platties in the grass so that they look more tidy and then turns to the side a bit with a smirk that looks half-cheeky and half-bashful. „You can go into the water. And then I'll turn it on.“

„I see, I see...“

And so I do as told and dip my noga into the water first, then my whole luscious, nagoy plott, well, at least up to my waist. It's cold, brothers, but I don't really mind. It feels good. And then I suddenly sloosh a familiar sound, a melody, and I only need to sloosh the very first note to know exactly what it is. It is lovely, lovely Ludwig Van's famous 'Moonlight Sonata'.

„Oh Bog.“

I look to Phil who now follows me into the water carefully, hissing slightly, maybe because of the cold. And I'm... I am overwhelmed in this moment, overcome with a feeling of... adoration.

I want to say something, but no slovo forms in my mouth. I am only able to stare at Phil in front of me; and his nagoy form, his young litso with that dark-brown, wavy voloss falling a bit over his shoulders, returning my gaze so innocently in the dim light with Ludwig Van playing in the background – I think it might be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

„I hope you like my choice of music,“ he says quietly, shyly. „I've bought this cassette with some songs of Beethoven because... I know how much you like him. And I wanted to give it a try. I like 'Moonlight Sonata' very much.“

I still don't know what to say. But I guess there isn't really a need to say anything. I just reach out, grab his arm to pull him closer to me and kiss him without thinking about it for a second. The way he sighs quietly against my mouth makes my gloopy heart thump in my chest, and his hands slowly touching my skin, his plott slightly coming into contact with mine, makes me crave more of him, much more.

„You're mine,“ I say to him after breaking the kiss, my eyes locked with his, so he knows how serious I am. „You will never get rid of me again. Never, Phil.“

He doesn't say anything, the only thing I hear is the shoom of the piano playing, a bit distorted by the not so high-quality-veshch that's playing it. But then he leans forward and kisses me again, his rook in my hair, his lips softly, sweetly pressing against mine. And, of course, I kiss him back once more, relishing this feeling, this perfect moment, o my brothers. I can't help but grin at him afterwards.

„I could get used to this. Don't you perhaps want to consider walking around naked every day?“

„You would like that, hm?“ he smirks back at me. „But, goddamn, no. I'm really not too comfortable walking around naked.“

„Oh? And yet you slept completely nagoy next to me after you knew me for just some hours. Hmm.“

„That's something else. I absolutely hate the feeling of clothes and a blanket on my skin, I can't sleep that way. But I kinda need a blanket, so... the clothes have to be gone.“

„You're kind of a weird fellow, eh? But I get it. I prefer sleeping nagoy, too.“

And then, when I remember that he did sleep with platties on one night – even with his day-platties –, and that it was the night I got drugged and... those other things... I kinda feel a malenky bit touched. He helped me that nochy, he helped me get into bed and let me sleep with platties on as well, probably because I was too exhausted to take them off or was shaking too much or whatever. And he lay beside me with all his own platties on, maybe to not make me... uncomfortable? To keep me warm?

I haven't thought about or even remembered that night until now, and now the memory is suddenly so vivid in my gulliver, it's almost a bit creepy. He always tried his best to be there for me, didn't he? No matter what he thinks of himself. He might think he's not good for me, but I think he's actually so good to me that I can't even appreciate it enough. And now that I'm looking at him like this, now that I viddy his 'true self' as he calls it... I want to be the one who protects him and makes him feel good. I have never felt this way in my life, about absolutely nobody.

„It was a good idea, wasn't it? Coming here during sunrise,“ he now says randomly, smiling and looking away, at the sky, as if he's nervous and abashed and awkward, and that makes him seem even more like a teenager.

„I love it,“ I respond, but I'm not sure if I really mean this place or just him, the fact that I'm here with him. And the fact that he brought a Beethoven-cassette. So, instead of saying anything more, I wrap my arms around his waist, press him against me and place a kiss on his neck, just like he has done it with me several times. I have to stand a malenky bit on my tiptoes to do that because of our height difference, but I don't mind. He lets out another little sigh in response which makes me feel more confident, kinda, that I'm doing it right and all. And as I continue to kiss the crook of his neck, my rooks slide down almost on reflex, grabbing his sharries and squeezing a little, and at that he practically moans into my ear.

„Don't... do this,“ he says, laughing shakily. „Don't turn me on like that.“

„Why not? Still scared someone could come by?“

„Well... obviously, yes,“ he says, very visibly insecure. „Would be bad enough if someone sees me naked in this lake, but also with a hard-on?“

„Oh, Phil...“ I stroke over his face, my other rook still on his sharries. „If you have a hard-on, I could just take care of it. Shouldn't I?“

He bites his lip and looks even more nervous than before.

„You know what?“ I add. „If it should really happen that someone catches us fucking, you can just push me away, I'll run, and you can say that I assaulted you. How's that sound?“

That makes him laugh out loud, but still with that cute, abashed litso.

„You're insane, Alex, really.“

„I've done way crazier veshches than this,“ I say, shrugging. „I mean it. I want to...“ I pause. „I want to... make you feel what you made me feel everytime we... uh...“

Good Bog. I honestly have no clue what slovos to use in this context. I can't say 'fuck', can I? Would surely destroy the mood. And so would 'have the in-out-in-out'.

„I just... want to look into your litso while I feel your plott underneath mine, wet from the water, with Ludwig Van playing in the background,“ I then say, and I know he knows very well what it is that I want. I can see it in his eyes, the second he fully understands.

„Oh.“ He looks down. I think his face is flushed. Then he slowly takes my hand in his and leans his head against me. „I would... like that, too,“ he says very quietly, and Bog, I think I'm losing my mind right now. „But I really don't know– We're in a public space, even if it's unlikely that someone else comes by at this time. And you know how... problematic it all is with us.“

„Sure. You've reminded me of that often enough. I know about your fears and all that cal.“ I place my rook on his chin and lift it up to make him look at me again. „Of course we could wait until we're back at your place and do it there, completely undisturbed and safe. But I want the thrill. The thrill and the beauty of doing it here. And besides... I can't wait anymore. I want you now.“

I lean in to give his neck another kiss and place my hand on his sweet backside once more before I teasingly rub two fingers against his hole. He gasps, puts his arms around my shoulders and clutches at me, like, on instinct or something, and again tries to hide his face. But I can feel how aroused he is. Very clearly.

„Fuck,“ he laughs breathily. „You're totally corrupting me...!“

„Am I? No. You can't tell me you haven't already been naughty before we met. I don't believe that.“

„Don't know if I would call it 'naughty', but I was... already interested in some things that many people would consider quite... dirty, yes. On the other hand, that kind of people considers sex between two men in itself dirty, so I really try to not care.“

„Well, that kind of people sucks. Bolshy yarbles.“

„Yeah. Whatever exactly bolshy yarbles are. Oh... damn...“

He tenses a little and clutches at me even tighter as I spontaneously push one finger inside him. It slips in so easily, brothers, probably because his flesh got all soft from the water. But still, I can feel him clenching, and that somehow turns me on so much.

„'Oh damn'?“ I repeat, smirking, while I start to finger-fuck him a little. „You like that, huh? You're really enjoying this.“

„Shut up,“ he groans, and I don't know if he's doing it intentionally or subconsciously, but he's slightly grinding against me, apparently getting kind of needy. „Shit, Alex... We don't even have lube here, how do you think this should even work?“ he mutters, making me smirk more.

„Oh, don't worry. Seems to work quite well without lube, doesn't it? Look how your greedy plott is practically sucking me in...!“

„You're not serious, are you?“

He laughs and at the same time stares at me with quite horrified glazzies.

„I'm not, no. In fact, I do have lube with me, in the pocket of my pants. Because you never know when you might need some.“

Now he raises one eyebrow and scoffs.

„Of course. I should've expected that.“

„Absolutely. And now stop being a killjoy and let us have a real horrorshow very early morning, alright?“

I take my rook away from him, grab his wrist instead and walk out of the water, dragging him with me and ignoring his protests that aren't real protests anyway. He feels obligated to say No to this, that's what it is. He wants to be a reasonable person and all. But deep inside, he's longing for it, that's not hard to viddy. He sighs deeply as we're now standing on the shore.

„Another thing,“ he says, a bit out of breath. „We don't even have towels. I would've taken two with me, had I known that we would take a bath here.“

I sigh as well, but I don't tell him to just let his plott dry on its own. It's obvious that he finds that uncomfortable.

„Be a little creative then,“ I say instead and grab my own platties from the ground. „Here. Use them as a towel, I don't mind. You can put them on the grass to lie down on them, too, and then you can just put them to the laundry at home and lend me some of your platties for the next day.“

„And on the ride to my apartment you wanna be naked?“

„Why not? But if it makes you happy, I can wear my pants and you can just use my shirt to dry yourself. Oh, and also...“ I reach into the pocket of said pants to pull the little bottle of lube out with a grin. „This.“

„I see. You really can't wait to screw me,“ he comments, now apparently a malenky bit amused himself.

„What a true statement! I indeed can't wait,“ and before he can respond to that in any way, I have my arm tightly around him and kiss him, passionately, my other rook wiping his plott briefly with my shirt before tossing it to the ground and then sliding between his nogas to stroke his already very hard cock. I try my best to ignore how mine feels, brothers. Like, it's really aching to be touched – to finally be deep inside him. But I don't want to just think about myself for once, I want this to be a jolly good experience for him as well. And so, the next moment, I go down and take his cock into my mouth, looking up at him and giving him a cheeky little smile before I start to suck and lick it, trying to concentrate on his sweet, sweet sounds instead of the annoying gagging-reflex I am trying to suppress.

„You're... really killing me,“ he mumbles between shaky breaths, letting out another one of those cute, sheepish laughs. Trying to act reserved.

His rook runs through my hair, and I close my eyes and moan quietly, and, oh, I think I feel... happy in this moment. About his approval, about his touch. About him feeling good because of me. But after a moment – when I can taste something salty that's probably a bit of precum and when I can sloosh him struggling more and more to hold back his moans –, I decide that it's enough and let go of him, chuckling slightly at the quiet whimper escaping him at the loss.

„Sooo,“ I say cheerfully while I'm getting up. „Lay down. On your back.“

He hesitates for several seconds, looks around, probably to viddy if there's a spot here where we could 'hide' a bit better. But there's no such spot, so I lean closer once more and repeat myself, whispering it into his ear. „Lay down.“ And then he does; he lies down, with his back on my damp shirt, supporting himself on his elbows, followed by me, kneeling down in front of him and parting his thighs slowly. He looks away, obviously very nervous. Anxious even.

„Have you even done this before?“ I ask, and he chuckles briefly.

„Oh... yes. It's really nothing new to me, and... I'm not scared of pain or anything,“ he says, looks at me for a split second and then looks down again before he continues to explain: „But it's been... a while. And it's the first time with you, so... well. It's not that easy for me to put myself in this, uh... vulnerable position.“

„Mhm. Yeah.“

Again, I think back to our first night, how it felt for me to do this with him for the first time. Well, for me it was a first in general, not only with him. It was indeed frightening. Even though it was still hot as hell.

„You did it with that... ex of yours you mentioned. Right?“ I then ask him, and he nods after a moment. „What was his name?“

Silence.

„Why do you want to know that?“ he asks.

„No particular reason,“ I say. „Just curiosity.“

More silence.

„Gary,“ he then responds in a quiet, frail voice. „His name was Gary.“

Gary.

He's still thinking about him. It's not hard to see.

„What happened between you that made you break up?“

Now the look in his glazzies changes. It already changed when I brought up this ex of his in the first place, but now there's something... real sad in his litso.

„I... Sorry, Alex. I don't wanna talk about that,“ he says, and I nod in response. But somehow it feels like a punch right in my guttiwuts.

He still loves him, I think to myself; it's suddenly very clear to me. The way he looks when he talks about him, his weak goloss. Maybe I don't exactly replace him, maybe he didn't lie about that. No, I don't think he lied. But he still thinks about him. I am not the only one to him, there is always someone else.

And now I am wondering – is this also what it feels like for Georgie?

It's a brief thought popping up in me gulliver. There's not enough time for me though to think more about it because, thinking of Georgie, I feel reminded of our evening together just some hours ago (feels like it's already been days), and that, on the other hand, brothers, reminds me of stinky Billygoat and how he interrupted us and how he said something about letting the whole school know about the bliss of our love or some cal like that. I don't want to think about all that now, oh no. The thought makes me so pissed.

„Alex? Are you okay?“

Phil looks up at me with such a concerned litso, it almost makes me feel a little bad about having drifted away like that instead of, well, taking proper care of him, if you know what I mean. Makes me feel bad having thought about anything else than him.

„Of course. Very okay, Sir,“ I say, making him giggle sheepishly.

„'Sir'? You haven't called me that in a while. But it's still... cute.“

He looks as if he wants to say something more. But he doesn't. Maybe he doesn't have the slovos right now, and that's fine with me.

„Thank you, Sir. I can return that compliment. What you said about being cute, I mean.“ He looks very much abashed again and a small noise escapes his throat when I open the bottle of lube and squeeze some out, on my fingers. „I'll be careful, Sir,“ I say, and then, quieter: „You know you can trust me. Right?“

„I know,“ he says, placing his hand on my shoulder. „I... trust you. Like I said, I just really hope that nobody will walk by...“

„Yeah. Get those thoughts out of your pretty little gulliver and relax, hm?“

I close the bottle again and put it aside, my eyes fixed on his, so I won't miss anything going on in his litso. And then I bend down, stroke over his hip and feel my own excitement getting almost overwhelming as I push two of my lubed fingers inside him. I can sloosh him inhaling sharply, but I think there's no discomfort in his litso. Only him waiting for me to go on. And that I do. I try to remember how it feels when he does this with me, this whole preparing-veshch, so I can maybe imitate his exact movements and all.

Of course Georgie has done this with me, too. Several times. But it's probably better to do it the way Phil does, after all it's always a lot, well, less gentle when I do it with Georgie. With Phil, I want to be gentle though. And that really is something I'm not used to – not wanting to be remotely rough with someone I fuck.

I don't look away from Phil's litso for just a second, it's almost mesmerizing in a way, watching his features contort in pleasure with a bit of red on his cheeks. After not so long though, he tells me that it's enough, so I stop immediately, not wanting to make him splatter all his juices too early, of course.

„Sure you're ready?“ I ask him nonetheless. „Because I'm quite sure you took more time when you did that with me.“

„I'm sure,“ he says. „You need more preparation when you're absolutely not used to it, so, of course, I took more time with you.“

„Oh. Yes. But I thought you haven't done it in a long time either?“

„Not with another person, no,“ he says, his expression now real awkward again. „But, to be honest... Since I know you and everything, I've spent some more time with my toys.“

Now it clicks in my gulliver, of course. And, oh Bog, the thought of that, of him fucking himself while thinking about me, it really takes my last bit of self-control away.

„Quite naughty, Phil, quite naughty,“ I grin, withdrawing my fingers. „I sometimes do that, too. But the image of you doing it – well, guess that's my new favourite-fantasy now. Or one of my favourites, at least.“

I'm pretty sure he's blushing even a bit more now before he gives me kind of a playful look.

„I don't do it that often though. But more than I have in years, I admit that...“

„More than you have in years, huh?“ How good it feels to hear that, really. More than in years. And now he does it because of nobody but my humble self. „Well, this time you don't have to imagine it's me. This time you can just lay back and viddy me right before your litso, in flesh and blood. Isn't that nice?“

He doesn't say anything, just takes another shaky breath and nods. And as I get into position between his spread nogas, he helps me, takes my cock into his rook and guides me, and, my brothers, I could probably come from this alone if I didn't force myself real horrorshow to keep calm.

He gasps softly before he stops supporting himself on his elbow, lets his head fall back and stares at the sky with his eyes wide open, a look in them that I don't even know how to interpret. I think he looks scared, panicked even, so I lean close to his face, place a little kiss to the crook of his neck again and grab his wrist to pin it down next down to his face, interlocking my fingers with his, while I finally push inside him. He lets out a sound that's something between a moan and a whimper, and his free arm wraps around my back, clutching at me tightly, as if to ground himself somehow. I get it. I get it very much. But right now, I'm too consumed by how amazing this feels to pay much attention to anything else for an instant. Oh, good Bog in heaven, this is so different from how it feels with a devotchka. I thought it would be almost the same, but it is certainly not. First of all, it is so much... tighter, oh damn. Second, that plott underneath mine doesn't feel like that of a devotchka at all; it's much taller and way more firm and his moans are so deep, oh Bog, so totally not squeaky and weepy like those of all the ptitsas I've had the in-out with. But most of all – I've never had the in-out with a ptitsa that I've felt anything for, at least not anything apart from pure sexual attraction, a desire to have some fun. I never had this with anyone I genuinely... loved.

Well, I know that I am very young, brothers, and it's probably nothing out of the ordinary that I've never fucked anyone I loved before. But to me, this is so strange because I didn't even think I was capable of feeling this. Of feeling so protective over someone. I mean, perhaps I do feel a malenky bit protective over Georgie as well. That is not the same though. He's my droog and I feel a sense of camaraderie. We all stand up for one another when someone else tries to mess with us. But this is something very different, I realize.

„It's okay, you can move,“ Phil says quietly, and I think he's still not completely relaxed. But he smiles at me and it's obvious that he wants this. He wants me, for whatever reason.

I don't smile back at him. I'm afraid I couldn't muster a smile that would be enough, that wouldn't look weird. I think I can't smile like him. And I don't want to give him a gloopy smile that doesn't show how much I appreciate this, that doesn't show him the true and pure affection I feel for him at this moment. So I don't smile; I only kiss him and moan deeply against his mouth as I start moving, quite carefully at first. His arm closes around me real tight and his plott slowly starts pressing against me, matching my rhythm, and, oh, I can't hold back for much longer, and so it escalates pretty quickly, me thrusting into him almost desperately, and him squirming underneath me, writhing and breathing heavily. I love that glazed look in his eyes and that he's so quiet but at the same time so obviously in ecstasy, begging me for more without using any slovos. But then the thought that I'm not the first one to do this to him finds its way into my gulliver once again; the thought that someone else has seen him like this many years before me, and I don't really like that thought.

Another quiet but blissful moan slips from his mouth and his eyes flutter shut, and for a second, I really think he's going to whisper „Gary“, my dear brothers. He doesn't. But (unfortunately at this moment) I have a vivid imagination, and my gulliver, for some reason, doesn't stop imagining this scenario, him saying (moaning) that name. And that makes me bloody furious inside. Not at Phil, no, I'm not angry at him, I couldn't be. I don't know who I'm angry at. I guess it is some kind of anger rooted deeply inside me, and maybe it is in some way directed at myself because I didn't know Phil early enough to be able to be his first. Of course I couldn't even have been, it's impossible with our age difference. But that doesn't change how I feel about it – and what I feel right now could probably be described as sheer possessiveness.

A faint „Fuck“ now leaves his sweet mouth as I move faster, fuck him harder; and I really can't control my own goloss anymore. In the background, there's Ludwig Van's divine Fifth Symphony playing now, making this feel even more like a fantasy, like a dream.

„Say my name,“ I demand without thinking about it, the look he gives me in response sending a shiver down my spine. He looks so helpless, so lost. So innocent. He can't bring himself to say anything though, it seems. „Say it,“ I tell him again. And after another little whimper, he closes his eyes once more and really says it. Silently, but he does. Alex. I smirk at that.

„Yes,“ I groan, chuckling briefly at the sheer madness of it all. I can feel him trembling, sloosh him whimpering now and then, and I viddy this look on his litso that makes him seem so bloody fragile. But not really a physical kind of 'fragile'. It's some sort of it that's doing things to me that I can't even begin to describe. It's a kind of 'fragile' that doesn't make me want to crush it under my boot, no, quite the opposite. I don't want to violate him. It would feel so, so wrong.

„Don't stop,“ I hear him say as he suddenly puts his hands around my shoulders and pulls me closer. „I like it... like this.“

„Like this?“ I repeat with a probably real dumb smile, and I don't even give a cal anymore how gloopy it looks. „You mean, uh... a little rough?“

He nods, his eyes darting to the side once again, staring into the void, before he looks straight into my eyes.

„It's... It feels good. Please, keep going like this,“ he says, and, Bog, in all honesty, how could I resist anything he asks me to do right now?

I don't even manage to respond to that, it seems I'm not able to form any slovos anymore. My brain is nothing but mush. Also, my own plott is shaking, I notice, quite a lot even, and then, as I feel him pressing against me once again, leaving a wet spot on my stomach from how he's dripping with need, I completely lose it, hear myself whine and feel my rooks reflexively clawing into his back as I come inside him, his hoarse moan and spastic movements underneath me almost pushing me even more over the edge, if that's in any way possible. God. He's doing something, I think he's touching himself, and, oh cal, the next moment, well, I think he's coming as well, and as if this sweet, relieved sound tearing itself from the depths of his soul wasn't already enough to make me melt completely, I also feel him clenching so hard around me, it's almost too much. And then... nothing for a long moment. Just heavy breathing; our bodies still pressed tightly against each other before I can finally bring myself to pull out and collapse next to him on the ground. The music doesn't play anymore, I suddenly realize.

„That was... something else,“ I say after a while, still struggling to breathe properly, before I look around briefly. Nope, still no sign of life apart from us two. And some birds and mosquitos. „You, uh... You seem more relaxed now,“ I then say. „Stopped thinking about other people and all?“

It takes him a moment to turn his litso to me a little. He's probably still recovering as well.

„I think... I don't care right now,“ he simply says between two breaths. For a while, he gazes up at the early-morning-sky above us. „I don't care,“ he says again. „Others... don't matter. You're making me forget about them all.“

His slovos now actually give me goosebumps, and I'm not even sure why.

„It's getting too tiring to always think so much,“ he goes on quietly and gives me a look that's so... intense and... loving? I'm not sure what it is exactly, but it makes my stomach twist strangely. „All that matters is that I'm... with you now. I don't want to care about anything else anymore.“

I return his look. And when he smiles at me again, I can't help but instinctively smile, too.

„Right right.“

There's this strong urge to pull him closer, to put my arm around him and just lean against him, and after another moment, I give in to that urge. He takes a deep breath and leans against me as well, his nagoy plott so close to me. And I think he's not just physically close. I think... this is what a real connection feels like. Maybe this is what they always talk about in all those gloopy books and movies.

There are no more slovos spoken between him and me. We're just lying there in the grass, feeling each other's presence, nothing more. And maybe, my brothers, this is actually the most precious moment of my whole damn life. Still, there's something in the back of my gulliver that makes me feel some weird sort of melancholy. As if, no matter how good it all feels right now, it won't last. No, of course it won't. There's too much shit going on for everything to just stay perfect.

However, we keep lying there for Bog knows how much longer, resting in each other's arms, until we at some point decide that we should finally catch some real sleep in our beds. So, slowly but surely, we get ready to drive back home – Phil to his apartment, me to my Pe and Em –, but it all still feels as if I'm trapped in a dream. One big, weird dream that doesn't seem to end.

Chapter Text

The pleasant dream I've felt trapped in just a few hours ago, when I was alone with Phil in the early morning? It has vanished into thin air.

Only a few hours have passed (not more than two or three at most), and I don't even know what motivated me to go to skolliwoll this morning after I've barely even slept. But I didn't even feel the need to sleep for some reason. Maybe because I stayed sober the whole night or maybe because the excitement of what I had done with Phil, how I had viddied him this early morning, was still too present in me to think of sleeping.

Well. Whatever, my brothers. Everything nice I've been thinking about only moments before has gotten blown away now that I'm standing in skolliwoll, in the hallway. In front of a wall with a series of pictures pinned to it. Photos, more precisely. Photos of Georgie and me. Kissing.

Billyboy, a goloss in my mind whispers. Billyboy and Leo. They took bloody pictures of us yesterday. And now everyone here has viddied them, haven't they? That's what they meant, that was their plan when they said the whole school would know about us. They secretly took fucking pictures of us.

I'm not sure what I'm feeling at this moment, as I'm staring at the photos. Actually, what comes to my mind first is how utterly strange I look while kissing Georgie. The look on Georgie's litso, too; that smile and all, I didn't even notice he looked like that yesterday.

Then, slowly, I can feel the anger building inside me, just as the realization comes that everyone who goes to this school must have seen these photos. A moment later I realize that among all those people who have viddied the photos, there must also be Pete and Dim.

My thoughts are racing like crazy, brothers, and I'm not even sure what I'm feeling right now. I only know it's making me razdraz. As skorry as possible, I strip the photos off the wall and rip them apart, briefly wondering why Georgie hasn't already done that if he was here before me. But maybe he was too traumatized by the sight of them and his brain temporarily turned off.

What do I do now? Just go back home? Oh no, that would make me look like a coward, wouldn't it?So I go to the classroom, as always, a bit too late, like, two or three hours, like usual as well. And when I go in, there's Mrs Evans, one of the old ladies, scribbling something on the blackboard and giving me a brief sideglance without interrupting her work. I go to my desk skorry without paying attention to anyone either – which unfortunately doesn't work for long though. Because I can practically feel how the two malchicks to my right are gaping at me with grinning litos.

„Quite late, Alex, aren't you?“ one of them asks quietly. „Had to recover, eh? From a tough night with your lover-boy?“

They don't stop giggling. And I swear, I'd absolutely love to smash their litsos against the floor real horrorshow.

From behind me, I sloosh a noise, a very tense sounding exhale. Georgie. I myself, I just sit there with a more or less straight litso.

„Careful,“ is all I hiss at them, but apparently that amuses them even more.

„Or what?“ the other one of them grins back at me. „You think we're scared or something?“

„You better be,“ I hiss once again, but they don't get to say anything more because the ol' lady interrupts us.

„Quiet!“ she shouts, her glazzies fixed on us with a deadly glare, before she continues to govoreet about functions and letters and what not. The two malchicks are indeed quiet, but only for a short moment, unfortunately.

„So... how serious is it between you?“

Just ignore them, I tell myself. They're really not worth it, absolutely not.

„Already planning to marry, huh? Or is it just that you couldn't get any chicks anymore, so you had to switch from chicks to dicks?“

„What would your parents say? Do your Daddies know that their sons are little fairies?“

They really don't stop talking, my brothers. They talk and talk and talk, nothing but crap, and for the sole purpose of provoking me. Well, me and Georgie, I guess. And they succeed because, the next moment, the back of my right rook meets one of the malchick's litso, and of course he starts ow-ow-ow-ing real quickly, causing the ol' lady to look over to us once again.

„What's going on here?“ she shouts, and oh, she's quite pissed, I can tell. Just as me.

The malchick with the red krovvy coming out of his nose points at me aggressively and shouts back at her: „That little fag punched me for no reason!“, and that, brothers, is the moment I kinda lose it, smash my rook on the table and scream „Shut your filthy rot, you piece of shit!“, and just as these slovos leave my mouth, I viddy Georgie leaping to his feet and rushing out of the room, ignoring the ol' lady's protests. There's some shoom in the background, and I realize that shoom is Pete and Dim whispering to each other, among other voices that belong to less important people. Then I viddy Pete walking past me quite skorry, probably following Georgie, and fuck it, I think to myself, I should follow them, too. And as I do that, giving a cal about what the ol' lady has to say, I viddy poor Dim getting up and following us as well, his litso as confused as humanly possible. Some malchicks and devotchkas stare at us as if they're at the cine or something, but why should I care? Everything's already fucked up anyway.

So I go where Pete goes who, on the other hand, goes where Georgie goes, I guess. And the place we all end up in is the men's restroom, of course, where we find Georgie leaning against the door of a stall, looking up at the ceiling with an empty gaze.

„Why did you all follow me, huh?“ He chuckles humourlessly before he lights a cancer. „Guess you saw the photos yourself, didn't you? Came here to laugh?“

„Hey,“ I say to Georgie. „You're not the only one in those photos, if I may remind you. If anyone wants to laugh at you, they have to laugh at me, too.“ I turn to Pete and Dim with a somewhat bitter smirk. „Sooo! Have anything to say, my brothers? If so, I want to know. Everything. Throw your dirty slovos at me, if you dare, come on.“

They're silent for a while, and I must admit that I don't feel as confident as I pretend to be. But then Pete starts to speak, and, oh brothers, I can't say how relieved I am by what he says.

„We're not going to laugh at you. At least not me. Why would I?“

He looks over at Dim who, on the other hand, looks quite undecided and overwhelmed, as if he had no clue what's even happening.

„Not laughing either, brother!“ he quickly says. „Or do you viddy me laughing?“

At that, Pete smiles – sort of insecure, but he actually smiles.

„See? We're droogs, aren't we? And droogs don't make fun of each other.“

I swallow slightly. Are they serious? My eyes dart to Georgie once again who now stares straight ahead, slowly blowing out some smoke. He doesn't know what to say, it seems.

„Uhh...“ Dim shifts from side to side, looking real awkward now. „So, uh... You kissed?“

„Well, Dim, my little droogie,“ I respond, rolling my glazzies. „If you viddied the photos, then you know the answer, don't you?“

„Uhh,“ he says again, now looking back and forth between Georgie and me. „But... why would you do that?“ he then asks, obviously not understanding shit. „You're... not gay, are you?“

„What if I am?“ Georgie suddenly throws in, a bit to my surprise. „You can tell me if you're disgusted. Don't lie to me, droogie. Tell me what you think. If I was gay – would that be a problem?“

Poor Dim just frowns, still not sure where to look, apparently.

„But... you're not, are you?“

„Alright,“ Pete chimes in – thank Bog – before he eyes Dim, Georgie and me, one after another. „As I said – we're doogs. Right? If you ask me... I don't give a fuck if anyone of us is gay. Does it really matter?“ He looks at Dim again. „Do you have a problem with that, Dim?“

Dim looks even more confused, or maybe surprised, I don't really have a clue what his facial acrobatics mean. But then he shakes his gulliver. Pete nods slightly, gazes into space for a moment and then turns to us again, to Georgie and me, without looking at us directly.

„I just... I'd just like to know – are we still the same constellation? Or... will anything change between us now? As a group?“

And that, brothers, is a question that kinda catches me off guard. If anything will change, he asks. Hasn't everything already changed? But, well, maybe it hasn't. Maybe at least my droogies are still the same as always.

Georgie takes another drag of his cancer, probably busy processing all this as well.

„I don't know,“ he says to Pete's question and pauses. „You don't care that Alex and I fuck?“

That catches me off guard even more, and I almost choke on my own spit.

„Very discreet, brother, very discreet,“ I say to Georgie with an obviously sarcastic tone, but he just shrugs.

„They know that we've kissed. Not hard to guess that there's already been more than that, eh?“

„Are you,“ Pete starts and seems to think. „Is it really just... fucking? Or are you together?“

I look at Georgie. He's tense.

„I think labels are overrated actually,“ he says before he has a little smeck to himself, as if this was just a casual topic for him. „We're just trying things out. Alright? If you're... really cool with that, nothing has to change.“

„Well... yeah,“ I add. „What he says. I guess.“

„But... do we still have the in-out with devotchkas?“ Dim suddenly asks with the litso of a malenky child, and that question makes me chuckle a little.

„Oh, Dim, Dim, Dim. Of course we're still going to have the ol' in-out with pretty devotchkas. With plenty of them. Even Georgie isn't gay enough to say No to some nice, bolshy groodies. Right, Georgie-boy?“

„Right-right,“ Georgie says. A little bit delayed though. „Devotchkas are still... great.“

After that, a moment of silence follows. Dim stares at the floor, Pete takes a deep breath.

„So... you two are trying out new things,“ Pete then says. „I'm fine with that. Really. But why are there photos of you in the hallway? Who did that?“

„What do you think?“ I ask in return, the hatred building up inside me once again. Pete hesitates briefly.

„Billyboy?“

„Who else.“

„Huh...“

„He totally went too far,“ Georgie says between two drags of his cancer before he finally puts it out. „You know... I'm still trying to accept it all myself. And because of that shitface, the whole school knows about it now. Absolutely great.“ His eyes widen. „Shit, I didn't even do anything about those bloody pics!“

„I already took care of that,“ I quickly say to calm him down.

„Something's horribly wrong with Billyboy,“ Pete mumbles but then lets out a quiet chuckle. „Well... Something's wrong with all of us, I guess. But...“ He looks at Georgie and me pensively. And smiles. „I'm glad we're still droogs. Shit like this doesn't, well... tear us apart, right?“

Silence once again. I'm not sure what to say. No one is, it seems. But surprisingly, Dim is the one who replies to that first.

„Right,“ he says, his litso more serious than usual, and, my brothers, I think I actually feel a little... touched.

„Right,“ Georgie then says, makes a few steps toward Pete and Dim and pats their shoulders in the most friendly manner I've ever viddied. And even though I feel awkward as hell, I bite the bullet and join them.

„Yeah. Right,“ I say, nodding slowly. „Thanks... I suppose.“

I feel their glazzies on me, and a few seconds later, I also feel their rooks on my pletchos. And suddenly I know something I was never really aware of before:

They're my friends. Like, not just 'droogs' – friends. I know, I know, technically, that's the literal meaning of 'droog'. But to me, that was just what we liked to call ourselves, as members of the same gruppa. Just like stinky Billyboy and his gang-members are droogs as well. We all do our things together with our gangs, we hang out with each other so we have something to do, something exciting that's more fun when you do it in a group than it would be on your oddy knocky. It makes you feel strong, invincible even, like you can uproot trees, carry the whole world in one rook and throw it into Bog's bolshy litso like a giant bowling ball. It's a fire burning in your veins that gets sparked even more by the other ones' fires until it's one giant flame burning everyone and everything around it.

But maybe my droogs are even more than that. Because right now, I don't feel this fire. More the opposite, I feel quite empty, to be honest, and maybe a little angry. And they're still here with me and even manage to make me feel better somehow. Like Georgie did in the past. Oh, I thought those times were over, but apparently, there's still something that connects us apart from the Korova and ultraviolence. And I must admit, that's nice to know.

„So... What now?“ I sloosh Pete's goloss once again. Georgie turns to him with a little smirk.

„Well. Now that we've talked openly and everything's fine between us – how about we let everyone else know that they shouldn't mess with us?“

I return his smirk, and so do Pete and Dim.

„Oh yes, my droogie. Let them try to bully us, eh? They will learn the consequences rather quickly,“ I say, and even though I feel much more energized now than before, there's still a malenky part of me that's kind of, well, contemplative, for a lack of a better slovo.

Anyway. We leave the restroom to return to the classroom (not sure yet about how long we will stay there, maybe we'll just fetch our stuff and itty home or to the Korova), but as soon as we're out in the hallway, the ol' lady spots us with quite mad looking glazzies.

„Back to the class, young men!“ she says, full-on authority-mode. „Quickly! Also, you will write a word-for-word copy of our school-rules, each one of you!“ she goes on, yap-yap, blah-blah. But I don't really listen to her and I genuinely don't care what she has to say. At this moment, I just feel relieved, glad about my droogies' reactions to this veshch with Georgie and me, and I guess nothing will drag me down so easily now. It's such a good feeling, knowing that I don't have to hide anything from them. It makes us even more powerful, doesn't it? The rest of this school can fuck off, oh yes.

And with this good feeling, me and my droogies itty back to the classroom, not bothered in the slightest by any comments or stares from anyone else. Because we don't give a cal about them, and if we can fight other gangs in the streets, we can absolutely fight some gloopy, big-mouthed malchicks gossiping about us as well.

The day passes by and the nochy comes, and as always, we spend it together doing our usual things. It feels very freeing, honestly, spending time with them knowing that there aren't any secrets between us anymore. Well, except for the thing with Phil, but maybe Pete and Dim can guess what's going on, after all they've been making jokes about it for a while already.

However, after our shared nochy, I feel a bit, well, melancholy once again, so I decide to have some time for myself on the good ol' playground that I kinda have rediscovered as a place to be on my own. Maybe it's weird for a malchick like me to hang out in a place for little children, but I honestly don't care. I like it. And it's a good place to just... think.

I slowly walk towards the swing to sit there and, you know, just sway back and forth a malenky bit, but I stop when I viddy that there's already someone sitting on one of the two seats. A little devotchka, my brothers, not more than eight years old. I smirk to myself at the thought of a devotchka of that age hanging around out here all alone in the middle of the night. Apparently, she's not quite right in the gulliver because otherwise, she would be at home, sleeping, safe with her Pe and Em. But she's here, at the same time as I am.

„Hey, hey, little sister,“ I greet her, leaning my cane against the swing and supporting my rook against it as well. „Quite late, isn't it? Bet Mommy and Daddy are getting all razdraz wondering where you are!“

She looks up at me, but she looks neither excited nor scared nor anything else really.

„I'm sorry, Mister, I don't talk to strangers,“ she says sheepishly before she turns her head away. Interesting, I think, tilt my gulliver with a „Hmm“ and then sit down on the empty seat next to her. I notice that her litso looks familiar in some way, but I can't really place it anywhere. She looks sad, actually. Why would a pretty little devotchka sit on a playground at night all alone with a sad face and not lie in her comfy bed, dreaming about horses or butterflies or some cal, I wonder. So I ask her, simple as that.

„Why are you here, sister? Ran away from home?“

Her gaze drops to the ground, to the sand under her nogas.

„Yes,“ is the only response I get from her. Then, after a while, she turns to me, smiles a malenky bit and says: „Your clothes look funny.“

„Funny, you say? That's kind of rude, eh? What's so funny about them?“

She keeps eyeing me, apparently amused. That little brat.

„Everything,“ she says. „And you have long lashes, like a girl. My sister sometimes wears them like that, but on both eyes.“

„Oh? I bet your sister's quite hot. How old is she, if I may ask?“

„She's 16,“ the little devotchka says. „But Daddy doesn't like it when she looks too pretty. He says it's dangerous, but I don't understand why.“

Oh, what a sweet, innocent thing.

„Weeeeell. You will understand why when you get a bit older, I assure you. Maybe sooner than you'd like, who knows.“ I have a little smeck and stretch my plott for a moment on the seat. „Is your Daddy that strict with you, too? Probably not, huh? He probably lets you wear cute fairy- and princess-costumes and tells you how beautiful you are every day?“

„Eww, no!“ she grimaces. „Fairies and princesses are boring. I want to be a dragon. But Daddy says girls don't like dragons and I won't find any friends if I act like that...“

„Is that so? Your Daddy sounds quite boring himself. Guess he doesn't have a lot of droogs either.“

„Droogs? That means 'friends', right?“

„Right, sister. Who told you that, huh?“

„I just know.“

Now she grins at me, almost mischievously. I give her a tiny grin in return. She's sort of entertaining, I must admit.

„So. You ran away from home because you don't get along with your old man?“

„I love my Daddy,“ she responds real skorry. Then she seems to think though. „But I'm not sure if he loves me, too. Everytime I do something... he says I shouldn't do that. And it's the same with my sister.“ She sighs and gazes into space. „I think he doesn't really like us...“

For some reason, my brothers, I sort of feel a malenky bit sorry for that little devotchka. Not that I would usually care about boo-hoo-hoo-ing little brats. But this one isn't even boo-hoo-hoo-ing. Just silently sad.

„You know,“ I say to her, „if you're not like everyone expects you to be, people will always tell you to change, to behave and all that cal. But they can fuck off. Tell your Daddy he can fuck off. Alright? Be a dragon, for Bog's sake.“

And at that, she gives me a real bolshy smile, followed by a twisted litso with bared zoobies and a not very threatening sounding „Roar-Roar“-sound. Her best impression of a dragon, I guess. Makes me chuckle a bit, honestly.

The next moment, there's some other shoom – footsteps – and, suddenly, another person's goloss saying „There you are!“, and as I turn to that goloss, I viddy a pink-haired devotchka I know very well.

„Thank God, Sophie, I was– Alex?“

„Hi, hi there! My, my... You're the little dragon's big sis?“

Susie giggles, but it sounds kind of distressed. The little one stares at both of us with big glazzies and a gaping rot.

„Is he your boyfriend?“ the brat asks, grinning real wide, making Susie flinch and blush so hard I can viddy it very well even in the dark.

„Sophie!“ she squeals, and I have another smeck to myself. „He's– You're too young to understand that.“ She turns to me, obviously insecure, maybe even a little anxious. „You talked... to my sister? I don't get it, why are you even here?“

„He's so nice and cool!“ the little brat exclaims, throwing her rooks up into the air. „And he said I can be a dragon if I want. See?“

And then, brothers, she lets out that not so dangerous sounding shoom again, roar roar. Sort of cute, almost. Susie observes her, one eyebrow raised, before her gaze goes to me again.

„I see, yeah,“ she says quietly, seems to think for a moment and then smiles at me. „Thank you. You know... I wasn't able to talk to her the whole day and I was worried sick. But apparently she likes you. You're... a good guy, Alex.“

Now, that makes me laugh even more, in disbelief I even slooshied her correctly.

„That's a new one,“ I say, smirking, folding my rooks behind my gulliver, but she actually seems serious.

„You might think I'm joking, but I mean it. Of course you're no perfect son-in-law or the nice guy from the neighbourhood. Everything but that,“ she says, running one of her petite rooks through her thick pink voloss. „But I know there's something really good in you. Maybe it's just... a small part of you that only few people get to see... But I know it's there.“

After saying all that, her gaze drops, her doll-like glazzies staring at the ground while she's biting her lip. I don't know why, but I'm actually sort of speechless for a moment. I don't know what to say to that, brothers. But the little brat seems fine doing all the talking for me.

„I knew it!“ she shouts happily, jumping from her seat. „You have a crush on him, you have a crush on him! Will you marry?“

„Oh my God, Sophie, shut up! You're a bad little dragon!“

Susie's rook now pressed against the brat's mouth, they're both standing there, bickering like it's probably normal for siblings (I wouldn't know, never had one), but both of them seem to have quite a great time actually. And watching that, I feel like I'm getting a glimpse into their life, like I'm viddying something on TV, just that this is not happening on a screen. This is real. It doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel like anything I should viddy right in front of me and not feel annoyed by, that is. But I am not. I am actually enjoying it, for some reason.

„Well, Susie,“ I say teasingly. „The little one's observant, eh?“

„You shut up as well! Who asked your opinion?“ she retorts in such a fake-sassy way, it makes me laugh. Then she gives me sort of a sad smile though and says with a quieter goloss: „Even if she's right – I already know that it's just a fantasy. I'm not blind, Alex. But it's... okay.“ She takes a breath, looks to the side for a moment and then to me again. „I still mean what I said about you. And... I'm really glad you took care of my sister.“

„I didn't take care of her, to be honest. I just came here to be alone, and apparently, she had the same idea even before me.“

„Still. She was very upset, and you made her feel better. We were all so worried about her, and for a reason. Who knows what could've happened to her, being here at night, all alone! But you stayed here with her, and I have a feeling you would've defended her if some creep had shown up here. So... thank you. Thank you very much.“

Some creep. She really isn't fully aware what kind of veck is sitting right in front of her, it seems. But who knows, maybe she is. Maybe she knows exactly what kind of veck I am, and I guess she's right. Had someone come here in my presence and tried to do something to the dragon-devotchka, I would've kicked his yarbles real horrorshow.

„No need to thank me,“ I say though. „I didn't talk to her to do some good deed, alright? Anyway, glad you found her.“

„Maybe that's what makes the difference. That you didn't do it because you felt like you had to, but just because... you wanted to.“ She gives me another genuine smile, then turns to her sister again and takes her rook. „We should go home, hm?“

„Uhmm...“ The brat stares at the ground, not so confident anymore. „Were you really all worried?“ she asks. „Even Daddy?“

„Of course he was!“ Susie immediately responds. „He was worried to death, you silly girl! He would even be worried sick if I would run away like that, and I'm 16!“ She sighs and takes her sister's other rook in hers as well. „Just because we fight sometimes doesn't mean he doesn't want us around. He doesn't want us to get in danger. He wants us to be safe, and that's why... he's so strict and such a square.“

„Really?“

„Really. Believe me, I know him.“

„Listen, droogie,“ I say, get up from the seat and crouch down in front of the brat. She looks at me with wide glazzies. „I don't know if your Daddy loves you or not. Guess he does and just sucks at showing it. But next time he tries to tell you what to do or not to do – show him what kind of devotchka you are. No one can take away your freedom, alright? Wait.“ I reach for the lashes on my right eye, pull them off carefully and hold them out to her with a smirk. „I have another one of those, so take them. And when you wear them, remember that you can kick anyone's ass.“

„Hey, don't teach her stuff like that,“ Susie says, her rooks on her hips, as if she's a strict Mommy herself. The brat grins though, takes the lashes from me and puts them on her eye with a loud giggle.

„Do I look cool?“ she asks Susie and then turns to me again. „If you don't want to marry my sister, do you want to marry me? I can wait for 10 years!“

„You're unbelievable, Sophie! If someone gifts you something, you say 'Thank you' and don't ask him to marry you,“ Susie explains quite passive-aggressively, and then both of them stick their tongues out at each other, brothers. Lovely. „Anyway, Alex,“ she then says. „We should go now before our Dad gets a heart attack. Thanks again and... see you. Maybe...“

„Sure,“ I say. „See you! And maybe remind me to meet your sis again in 10 years!“

„Idiot!“ she shouts from the distance, both her and the little brat having fun, apparently. And then I'm left alone again, standing in front of the swing in the darkness, and I'm kinda wondering if everything that happened between this moment right now and the second I arrived at this playground was just some bezoomny sorft of hallucination. I'm pretty sure my moloko-affected mind wouldn't come up with sweet cal like this though.

My mind, however, drifts back to the little devotchka, trying to imagine what her days look like, her relationship with her Pe, what it would look like to viddy her and her parents and her pretty sister on a family-trip. What she's like in school. If others make fun of her.

Then my thoughts go back to my droogs and how they didn't make fun of Georgie and me in any way, and I think, well, I genuinely hope that the little brat will have her own gruppa of droogs some day that will stand by her side and help her kick some butts. And then I catch myself imagining her a few years older, as one of us Nadsats, walking through the streets confidently while wearing my lashes on one eye, and, my brothers, I think the thought of that makes me feel a malenky bit proud. She'll be a menace, oh yeah. The dragon and her droogs.

Chuckling quietly to myself, I keep standing there for a while. Until I decide to itty home, still smiling for whatever reason.