He kicks me out. I’m stumbling down the hallway, almost tripping over my feet, staring back at the closed door in disbelief, pain in my chest.

  What did I do? What… Why… I don’t understand.

  Chapter 32

  It’s getting dark again. The clouds are gathering. There’s a storm brewing, waiting to be unleashed. It’s been hanging over me for a while now.

  They found me on the street, feverish, babbling nonsense. They took me to the hospital. Who ‘they’ were, I couldn’t say, their faces lack discernible features. They’re shapes, shadows, distorted voices, loud and unfamiliar, raking the insides of my skull. They exist, but they’re nameless.

  I guess the wounds on my back were worse than I thought. I don’t even know when I stumbled out of the club or for how long I’ve wandered before I fainted. It must’ve been hours. I was screaming at some point. Scratching my skin with my nails and hitting my temples with my hands, trying to stop the crying. I don’t remember how long that had taken either.

  I was sedated for a while, so I lost track of days. They called Stefan from the hospital and he showed up to spend time with me. They found Iordan, apparently. Bratva sent a message to them, making it look as if they’ve used Iordan to steal those things from Ivan and that he was the one who set the house on fire. They don’t like traitors of any kind. If a man has once betrayed that which he was loyal to, he’ll do it again in the blink of an eye. That’s how Bratva gets rid of traitors. Is that what happened to me? I am of no use to Raymond anymore and he tossed me after I’ve accomplished the purpose I’ve been given?

  The backlash Stefan got for it was visible all over his face. Bratva didn’t touch him, but he let me know they’ve revoked their support for him and that Temnota didn’t take kindly to having a traitor so close to them. You reap what you sow. Does it mean it’s over?

  He wanted to take me home, but he had no clue I’d already called Denis to come pick me up. He’d lost it when the Kid and his dad showed up and I told him I’m going with them. But for the first time in forever, I didn’t seem to care. Not about that, or anything else for that matter.

  “What happened to your hand?” Chris asks, pointing at my bandaged right hand, the one I cut in a club last night, ripping the mirror off the wall, kicking and screaming. They had to call security to calm me down and even then, one of them had ended up with a bloody nose because I headbutted him. Being slammed to the ground wasn’t cool though. The cops didn’t appreciate my stunt either. They claimed I was high, and they fined me with a hefty amount which I won’t be able to pay anytime soon, before they put the incident on my record. I was too mad. It happened. Fuckin’ idiots. Then I spent all night staring at the wall, counting my sins. I’ve lost count of them.

  When Chris suggested we should head out so I can catch up with school, I took that opportunity and went to see him. I figured I’ve got no more time and must thank him for all the hard work he’s put into helping a failure. I might not see him again after this. Which is sad because he brought me a black, wool scarf, long and fringed. I am a bit surprised. I didn’t expect anything from his part. When I arrived at the bar, he was already here, early as usual and he just left the bag in front of me, telling me it’s mine. He seemed quite… satisfied with it, I guess? In any case, it’s a nice gesture. Too bad he wasted his money on me. I didn’t want to accept it but didn’t want to give it back either. It made me… it made me feel something nice, yet short lived, for the first time in two weeks.

  I drag from my cigarette and wave my left hand, as it wouldn’t matter.

  “I broke a glass,” I say, letting the smoke out, looking the other way. “Tell me. How are you? Everything alright?” We never got the chance to talk in depth after the mall incident. Other things… interfered with my life. Mostly, I just forgot. That instance seems like such a trivial matter now, after I’ve killed with my own hands. My mind jumps to the little boy, huddled in the corner, big baby blue eyes red and filled with tears. I wonder if he’s still alive. If it was worth it to get in that mess if he only ended up dead at Raymond’s hands.

  He takes a sip from his drink and tilts his head. He’s wearing a denim jacket over a blue T-shirt, his brown hair now trimmed short and filled with gel. He gives a start, but then he stares back at his drink.

  “You don’t seem too happy.”

  “I kinda broke up with Gabi… she’s… we don’t really do well as a couple. We want different things.”

  Ah, the joys of simple life. School. Dating. Fighting over chocolate flavours and superhero movies. I wish it would’ve been that simple.

  “Sorry to hear that, mate.”

  “Eh, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he lets out a nervous chuckle. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t seem that bothered by it. He’s leaning against the table, switching the conversation to his recent trip to the mountains, telling me how he visited some castles around there. “You should see them too. We could go on a weekend. And my dad has a friend who can give us a room.”

  I raise an eyebrow, carefully considering his words. Nothing changes about him, he just has this stupid expression on his face, like a child when he gets a candy after diner, hopeful, innocent. Why would he take me on a trip? What would he gain from it?

  I take a sip from my beer and nod. “I suppose we could do that, at some point.” Or maybe never, since one of these nights I might decide to cut my own throat.

  I receive another text from Denis. He missed a lot of school to spend time with that idiot he met, the drug dealer — Bogo. He wanted to know about Raymond and I half told him what happened, but when he asked for more, I just dismissed him. I somehow got this impression a fight between me and Raymond made him happy. As if the thought we’re not on speaking terms causes him a lot of joy. But it might be an impression. I might be imagining things. Again.

  I’m close by. Should I come around?

  I’m not sure, I fear C will freak out.

  Cool. It’s done.

  I mumble to myself, then I notice Chris’ expression.

  “Everything okay?” he inquires.

  “Yeah. Is it okay if… uhm… my friend drops by? He’s around and wants to say 'hi'.”

  That, however, defeats the entire purpose of that discussion we had in which I kept denying Denis is not my friend. Maybe I can let him know the truth, though. That I am gay and that I live with Denis. I could let him know some of that. Take it off my chest. Chris doesn’t seem like such a bad individual.

  “Umm, sure.”

  He goes back to telling me about the trip, then at some point, stops and frowns.

  “Listen, you know I called you a while ago, right?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Who was that guy who answered your phone? He seemed kinda shady.”

  It was the day after I ki… sent that man off to a better world and I was unable to take care of myself properly. That’s another thing I never got to ask him about, but at the moment it didn’t outrage me. Apparently, Raymond decided to simply pick up my phone and answer it when Chris called me, as if he had a bloody right to do that. Right now, though, it only makes me mad.

  “It’s… just a friend.”

  I purse my lips. That’s exactly the thing I wanted to be reminded of. Raymond. Lovely. What I want is to be reminded of how much it hurt to be treated like trash. To be trash. Chris doesn’t seem so happy with the response, and right when he opens his mouth to say something, Denis calls and I take advantage of the excuse to end the subject.

  “Yup.”

  “Where are you?”

  I get up from the chair and see Denis at the front of the bar. We are somewhere at the back, where it’s quiet and abandoned. I wave at him, then I drop the phone on the table. I keep standing. When Denis reaches us, he says “hi” to Chris, barely staring at him. Chris looks at us wide eyed. I am sure he didn’t expect Denis to be here. He should’ve known better. What other friends do I have, uh? Then Denis puts one hand on the back of my neck and kisses me on the mouth. I can see Chris’ expression from the corner of my eye. Bad and ashamed don’t even begin to describe how I feel right now. A hysterical laughter wants to crawl out of my lungs, but I manage to control myself, while giving Denis an obvious stare. You’re a fucking idiot! Considering those comments a while back, I’m not sure of Chris’ views regarding, well… people like me. He might stop talking to me altogether after this. Shit. Now that just pisses me off. I should’ve told Denis to mind his shit and leave me the fuck alone.

  The Kid just smiles broadly, hinting he got it and that he fully knows he is an idiot. Then he takes his fingerless gloves off but leaves his beanie on, puts his jacket on the other chair, next to me, then we both sit down. His nose is red, and he wipes it with the back of his hand. He’s probably catching a cold. He takes my beer and my cigarette and simply smiles at Chris.

  “Sorry. Nice to meet you. I’m Denis.” He reaches a hand over the table and Chris looks at it, dumbfounded. He eventually shakes his hand and turns his stare the other way, uncomfortable. I can see the questions forming in his head.

  I bite my lips and I look at Denis, Denis stares back at me. “Love, can you order me some beer?”

  I’ll fuckin’ punch him in the face. The fuck’s gotten into him. If the mean glare I give him doesn’t make him snap out of it in the next ten seconds, then yelling might.

  “Just a sec. Chris, do you want something?”

  “Nah, I think I’m alright. Thanks,” he adds after a while. Definitely not a good idea for Denis to play this kind of game right now. But it’s done. And it can’t be undone. Don’t think about it. Don’t think too much about it. Nope. If I even dare to look at the problem, I’ll unravel and destroy more property, which will end up with me being fined. Bad idea. Awfully bad. Chill. Calm. Beer. Smoke. Yes. Deep breath. There you go.

  I grab two more beers for me and Denis from the bar, then I return just in time to hear Chris asking if the two of us are together.

  Denis grins widely, the corners of his mouth lifting towards his ears as he gives a mockery of an innocent reply. “In a way. We sort of live together.”

  Chris stares at me, aghast. “Why didn’t you tell me? You said you barely know him!”

  “Tell you what?” This is starting to graze on my nerves and reach new levels of discomfort. Denis might be having fun, but I am not.

  “That you’re… you know.”

  “Gay?” Denis pops in. “Well, Chris, this is not exactly something to pride yourself with,” he says in an affected tone. “I mean, you must be really vigilant, I mean, like… if you know what I say, not like those guys from the lockers. I mean, who’d do that? Jesus…”

  Denis grabs my hand under the table, trying to seem discreet, but totally doing it on purpose, to make Chris see it. I barely stop myself from jerking my hand. I want to laugh and weep at the same time. I’ve never seen so much expression on Chris’ face. But he totally picked up the reference from the discussion we had a while back. What the fuck, Kid?

  “I mean, baby, don’t you agree? Sorry, Chris. I don’t know what your opinion is on… uhm, same sex couples.” He takes his own pack of cigarettes out and lights one up. “Do you want one?” He stretches the pack over the table, but Chris refuses with a head shake.

  “It would’ve been just nice to know that you’re seeing someone. From you, Alex, I mean,” he gazes me, clearly bothered and uncomfortable, then looks away.

  “Why is this important?” I ask, annoyed. Like, can’t we all be friends, have a beer, chat away like a nice pair of high-schoolers? No? It’s never that easy, is it?

  “Because I told you about Gabi. I didn’t lie to you. I thought we were friends. And I did ask you why you’d get yourself suspended like that. You should’ve told me you’re seeing someone... him,” he purses his lips. “I would’ve left you alone.”

  My eyebrows almost jump on my forehead. “Wha…”

  “Why, you almost sound like you want him for yourself. Is there anything else you’d like to tell us, Chris?” Denis goes on in a disturbingly, aggressive way.

  The brown-haired boy just gets up, takes his jacket, then leaves. I barely have time to process what has just happened that he is out in the next second. What the fuck is going on? I try to get up, but Denis catches my arm, surprised.

  “Do you want to go after him?”

  “What the fuck, Denis?” I almost jerk my arm free, but I see the way his features contort, and I just sit back down. His hand drops in his lap. For fuck’s sake!

  “I didn’t mean to yell at you…”

  “It’s alright.” He just turns towards the table and his beer, lighting up another cigarette. It’s like he has a death wish, I swear. What the fuck has gotten into him? I am aware of the tension in his muscles, the stubbornness of his stare, his jaw tightened, nibbling at the inside of his cheek. I can’t fuckin’ deal with this. I fuckin’ can’t. First Stefan, then Raymond, now this bullshit. I don’t understand what’s going on. It’s like the universe has decided to plot against me and bring me down at any cost. Can’t I just have some fuckin’ peace in my life?

  “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Are you in love with him?” He turns to face me again and I stare at him like a fuckin’ idiot.

  “Chris?! Have you fuckin’ lost it?”

  “Raymond fuckin’ Ward, the fuckin’ owner of the fuckin’ Ward empire, for fuck’s sake!” he snaps, his words boiling with anger.

  I straighten my back. What bewilders me the most is his reaction. Since when did this discussion turn into one about Raymond?

  “He’s just a client,” I force the words out.

  “That’s not what I fuckin’ saw that night. You both look as if you’d want to rip each other’s skin apart and fuck every available orifice.”

  “He doesn’t look at me that way. He just uses me for his own satisfaction!”

  “Then you must be either blind or an idiot,” he snarls.

  “What the fuck is your problem, Denis? You talk as if you’re angry with me over something and Chris just gave you an excuse to splatter all this bullshit around.”

  “You’re in love with him!”

  “For fuck’s sake. I am not in love with him!”

  “I saw the way you fucking look at him! You’ve never looked at anyone like that. You’ve never looked at me like that. Ever.” He wants to say more, he’s angrier and angrier, frustrated, his eyes tearing up, but trying to hide it. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, though. I already know what this is about.

  “Are you jealous, is that it?”

  “I’m…”

  Now I’m getting increasingly pissed off. I get it, he’s my friend. Hell, he’s more than a friend, but we’ve always kept it casual and we’ve always had boundaries, always knowing when we’re getting too close to cross them, but this… it’s just out of control. And what pisses me off even more is that I get this shit from him. I’d expect it from someone else, but not from him. I guess this is the issue. Expectations. Getting in my way, all the time, fucking me up and everything else in the process, leaving me scarred and disappointed. Even if I have my own share of guilt in this situation and, yes, I do, for fuck’s sake, because I allowed this situation to go on for so long between us, that doesn’t give him the right to out me in front of others. He can do whatever the fuck he wants, as long as his decisions and actions don’t affect me, still this bullshit angers me more than it should. I know he’s young and spoiled and he didn’t get through not even a quarter of what I have. However, he acts like it. He acts as if a fuckin’ heartbreak gave him all of the wisdom in the world and as if the apocalypse itself is coming. The bloody end of the world is not here for me yet, least of all for him. He has everything he could possibly wish for and he didn’t manage to fuck up his entire life by falling in the hands of a psychopath. Yet. Instead he managed to fuck a dealer. And no matter how hard I try to keep telling myself it’s not his fault, because he’s had his share of pain and there’s no point in comparing sorrow, I can’t stop myself from getting as angry as he seems. I’m fuckin’ tired of other people always taking decisions for me. Stefan. Raymond. My parents. Now this. Even if it’s something so small for him, since out of a sudden he decided he doesn’t care about society’s opinion and everyone can fuck off, I do — what he’s doing is just typical teenage rebellion, if you ask me. I have no one left. No one I can trust. No one to ease my pain. No one to want me next to them only because it feels good and not for using me. It’s increasingly annoying. I don’t feel like I have any control left over my life. That angers me, disgusts me, maddens me. I am reaching the point where I want to howl and screech like a caged animal.

  “You’re acting like a fuckin’ brat, you know that? Ever since you hooked up with that idiot, you’re acting as if pissing on everyone is the thing you need to do. Did I say something about you fucking a goddamn dealer? No.” I growl. “Did it occur to you even for one second that, maybe, I didn’t want Chris to know about me?”

  “But…” he stares at me, beanie on his head, straight, red hair enclosing his face. His brown eyes big, expression hurt, lips trembling. My intention is not to hurt him, but at the same time, if I allow him to treat me like shit and trample all over me, he’ll keep doing that and he’ll turn into one of those people I hate the most in this world. Not that it would matter anymore.

  “He’s the only person in my class I was talking to, I hope you’re aware of that.”

  “I’m sorry, I…”

  “Is this what you want to tell me? You’re in love with me? I fuckin’ knew that already!” I yell, drawing attention from the people around us.

  His eyes widen, lips parted, shocked and scared. It was so obvious, for fuck’s sake. Does he actually mean to tell me he didn’t think I already knew? After we’ve fucked and slept and spent our time together and all that bullshit?

  “It was obvious from the beginning. And I told you from the very beginning it’s not ownership and a relationship what I’m after. I’ve fuckin’ had enough of that! If you want to be next to me, good. If you want to control me, then I suggest you take a fuckin’ break, because I’m bloody done allowing others to treat me like shit! And if I love him or not, it’s none of your fuckin’ business!”

 

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