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He wasn't going to be his father.Jonas' fist trembled and his lungs begged to scream. Still, he kept his composure. He struggled to take a series of deep breaths, but ultimately came to a calm. He gently placed a hand on John's back. For most of his life; it had been monkey-see, monkey-do. His mother had been a woman unlike any other. Her eyes were a blue as gentle as her touch, and her curls cascaded down her back in a blonde waterfall. She told tales of when she was a wild woman, of how she dreamed to sing and travel the world.No man could ever deserve one as beautiful as her.Especially not his father.A 'traditional man,' by his words– he simply never let Jonas' mother out of the house. "It's a woman's duty to stay home and care for the family," he would always say, reminding Jonas to accept nothing less than submission. "Real men work to provide for his wife and children. Don't fall for any of this sissy bullshit.
"You are a man– and never let anyone convince you otherwise."
Jonas' father rarely hit his mother. It was never hard enough to bruise, but enough to make her scream. Jonas always hated that noise. Even twenty-some-odd years later?It echoed on quiet nights.It should have been obvious, even to a tiny Jonas–his father hated his mother.When you're so small, you're so easily influenced. You'll believe anything your father tells you, because he's your father. He'll do everything he does, love everything he loves, and–hate everything he hates.What haunted Jonas more? His mother's, or his own screams? His anger, when she was only trying to help? He never raised his fist to her, but... that didn't mean his classmates were safe from his anger, either. People liked Jonas just as much as he liked them. Not at all. He must have been fourteen when that boy marched over to his lunch table and slammed the tray down. Jonas froze, mid-bite, trying to look up before his visitor slammed himself down in a chair. He recognized that scowl, those sleek rectangle frames. Her hair fell in near-white waves around her shoulders, tossed around by her anger and sudden movements.He didn't quite remember the name she insisted on going by. Jonas wasn't a fan of the concept of a girl trying to be a man, but whatever. That was her problem."Some fat bitch stole my seat;" she stated, loud and clear. That 'fat bitch' must have heard it, with the nearby giggles. Jonas just rolled his eyes. Girl drama, he guessed. After getting no response, she spoke again."Hey, man. I like your shirt. What's your favorite album?"Jonas hesitated for a moment. There was no way a chick knew what Slayer was. He put his food down, finally."South of Heaven," he mumbled."Oh, cool! I like Christ Illusion."Then, they ate in silence. Jonas thought it would be a one-off thing. The fat bitch would move, and Jonas could eat in peace again. Except...The next day, Johannes came back– much calmer, this time. She wore a Manowar shirt, and Jonas could help but say–"That's fuckin' sick, dude.""Huh? Oh– Thank you!"Silence, again. This cycle would repeat, on and on, until Jonas was handed a small piece of paper. Inside?A phone number?Jonas felt his face turn red, but quickly brushed the feeling off. He could text her after school. He shoved the paper far, far down in his pocket. And that was the beginning of himself and Johannes.
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"I really like your hair."Henrik hummed as he combed his fingers through John's hair, eyes swelled at the color and sheer straightness of it. John, sweating buckets, couldn't manage more than a smile. His spot on the edge of the bed wasn't very comfortable, and Henrik wasn't really helping."Can I braid it?"Who was John to say no? He nodded, just as stiflingly scared as before. Shudders ran down his back as the blonde positioned himself behind John.Gentle fingers twisted his hair, and soft thighs braced his lower torso. A burning sensation took over every vein in his body, only worsened by Henrik's hands. They were so soft, with nails neatly trimmed enough to allow ease of parting."You're really pretty," Henrik whispered. It seemed to be more to himself than John, but that didn't prevent the back of the ginger's neck heating up. Henrik quickly took notice with a giggle.Nothing else was said. Embarrassment latched to John's vocal chords, so he couldn't even speak if he wanted to.They weren't dating; but this had to be love.
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Everything had happened so fast.Henrik didn't question the hand in his hair. Being in an all-boys school meant that nearly everyone had short hair. An exception was made to the dress code for his... 'condition,' his mother called it.It was between that, and his fear of scissors.He didn't hear the snickers as he continued chewing on his pen, struggling to find his next line. Poetry wasn't his strongsuit, but the teacher insisted that he try. He didn't think about what anyone around him might be doing.It was hard to think. Between this, his other innumerous assignments, and whoever was touching him... it was too much. His brain fogged, glazed, and throbbed. He couldn't focus. There was too much happening.The hand was lasting far too long. Nobody ever touched his hair like this, except for Tim– and Tim was out with the flu. Henrik sighed, taking as deep a breath as he could. He hated confrontation, but...
Click.
He had always hated the sound of scissors. His body locked as the group burst out in cackles. He turned as slowly as he could, each movement coming in an interval twitch.There, a group of boys he'd never spoken to– if you didn't count their teasing. One victoriously held up nearly eight centimeters of hair. He had stretched out the curl, of course, but the horror sunk in just as quickly.Henrik didn't remember standing up. All he heard was his chair hitting the neighboring desk, and felt flesh give beneath his fist. According to the principal, and the video apparently going around, the assault had gone on for several minutes.So now, Henrik was missing a chunk of his treasured hair, and couldn't do anything but cry as he waited for his mother.He was never violent. Rather, he hated hurting people. But when you're being kicked around for so long, what else could you do? No teacher took him seriously when he reported it. They simply advised that he cut his hair, or attempt to masculinize his features. That wasn't to mention the few that had joined in on the bullying. Every defense fell on deaf ears. There was no point in speaking on the way home. At least Henrik's mother waited until they were inside to start screaming.
"What is wrong with you?! I raised you better than that, young... whatever the hell you are! You don't even try to act like a boy anymore!"
"You said I could be whatever the hell I want! And I want to be a boy with long hair! Is it that hard to understand?!""Lord, let me help this child... I... Where are you even getting all of these ideas?! First Simon, then that Isadora girl, and now you're punching people for an innocent joke!""Innocent joke?! They cut my fucking hair off!"
"You do not cuss at me in this house hold, young man. It's hair. It will grow back."
"And it takes forever! Now I'm gonna have to cut it all to match! Why should I listen to you, anyway?! All you do is repeat what Marshall feeds you!"A couple blinks.
"Henrik Sandelin, I am your mother. You do not speak to me like th–"
"YOU HAVEN'T BEEN MY MOTHER SINCE I WAS ELEVEN!"
Silence.His mother's once-lovingly blue eyes turned down and darkened. What happened to the eyes that blew him butterfly kisses before school and bed?
"Get. Out."
Henrik didn't waste a moment. Before clarity his his now-sobbing mother, his door was slammed and locked. As she pounded on the wood and screamed about not meaning a word she said, he simply laid out what clothes he knew he could cram in the single suitcase he had.That suitcase had seen so many different homes, couches, closets... Was that cycle to repeat, again? It must have been hours before his mother finally slumped away in defeat. Checking the clock, Henrik knew his stepfather would chalk it up to teenage angst within an hour of getting home.Anger gnawed at his brain as he tied his hair back.
He had until tonight to pack.
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Tim blinked out fever-induced tears, pinching his runny nose with a tissue still. What could Henrik be doing out this late?"Can I... stay with you for a while...?"That wasn't even a question.
Tim, too congested to speak, nodded as he pulled the blonde inside. He wasn't going to question the bag. He'd seen the video.Tim turned his back before blowing his nose, taking a few deep breaths before he turned back to his friend. His eyes stayed soft, although still wet. Henrik couldn't meet them."We have a guest room," he managed. He motioned for Henrik to follow him, as tired as they both must have been.It was a quiet ten or so minutes, helping Henrik sort his clothes. Tim couldn't help but watch the missing chunk of hair. Just when Henrik had been satisfied with the length, too...Tim wanted to reach out, to touch Henrik. To whisper apologies. To ask him to share the bed.But he didn't want Henrik to get sick.Still, an idea crossed his mind. He gently waved for attention, and drew tired eyes."I... uhm... I was gonna cut my hair tonight. Should I do yours, too?"Much to Tim's surprise, Henrik nodded before he even finished the question. He knew about his hatred of sharp objects. Scissors were no exception. Was Tim simply...?Henrik seemed to be dozing off in between snips. Understandable, as long a day it had been, but it didn't make Tim any less smiley. It eased the pain of his headache, at least.It was hard to layer wet, curly hair. The only reason Tim ever cut his hair wet was because he was afraid of damage. He was scared of cutting Henrik's dry, though. The last thing he wanted was to damage his friend's hair. It was a quiet trim. Between leaning into every touch, and nearly falling asleep every few minutes; it was hard to angle the cuts right. Still, Tim went on diligently. He didn't have to cut much off. It only looked like so much because it was uncoiled."What do you think?"Henrik snapped awake, shaking out his hair and flinging water everywhere. Tim giggled too hard to notice Henrik leaning into the mirror, turning his head every which way to examine his hair."It's... oh."If he didn't know any better, he would have imagined the twinge in Henrik's voice was disappointment. Instead, he noticed the weak smile."Are you gonna be okay?"Silence, for a moment. Tim nearly swallowed his heart."I love it."A delayed answer. Tim smiled back. With a hand on Henrik's hip, he pressed a kiss to the back of his cranium."Let's get you to bed, baby. Do you wanna go to school tomorrow?""I have to... or they'll call my parents..."An understanding nod."I'll drive."That, and Henrik dragged himself to bed. Tim looked in the mirror, and sighed. This was going to take a while.
"TIM JOHN ALEXANDER?! DID YOU MAKE BREAKFAST?!"
Tim barely blinked awake. His head was back to pounding, and weights had been planted in his every limb. He couldn't even bring himself to speak. He rolled over to check the time.
8:00 AM.
Class had started.
Tim jolted and rolled out of bed. Falling wasn't the most painless method of getting up, but it was definitely effective. Before he knew it, he was downstairs and face-to-face with his parents, who were eating rather happily.He couldn't ask, but he couldn't take credit. Did Henrik walk? How long had he been up? A ten-minute drive was well over an hour walk. There was no way to contact Henrik. Dread wallowed in his stomach until he sat down. Luckily, his mother simply forgot the question. He would have to thank Henrik later.
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It was quiet.Henrik was in the hospital again. Emergency surgery, he told the group. It was only like his body to fail so suddenly. Still, what did that leave for everyone else to do?Everything had been quiet since Simon left.Nobody was available today. It was only Johannes and the walkman he borrowed. A loud, clear voice sang for the death of Christ. Henrik listened to such interesting music. What did 'Mer de Noms' mean, anyway?Tim hadn't been responding to a lot of messages. He was buried in finals because he got sick last minute. John ran on borrowed minutes, and was rationing them for his next refill. Jonas was simply unavailable. He always seemed like a mystery, from the day Johannes lied his way to a seat across from him.The smell of flowers was overwhelming, today. It burnt every crevice in Johannes' eyes and nostrils. He hated days like this. He hated being alone. He could only hope John would be awake.It was a long walk. Johannes tossed another pebble against the glass.No answer. No light.John wasn't up.Johannes began the way to the gas station– where it all started. Jonas met Simon, and it was the closest they had gotten to meeting Henrik. Johannes still remembered watching those curls darting down the block. He always wondered if Henrik had ever gotten caught sneaking out like that.It was a plain check-out. Johannes didn't recognize the new cashier. He didn't particularly care. He simply grabbed a slushie, a bag of chips, and left. He wasn't going to chance going to Jonas' house. His father was... unpleasant. Johannes had heard more than enough about it.He saw the bruises on Jonas' arms.It wasn't worth trying to talk to Tim, either. If he wasn't in the hospital with Henrik, he was studying. It was fair. Just a shame that his school year ended later than everyone else's. Once he was free, it was Henrik's turn to be unavailable. Johannes couldn't imagine the time he'd be making up.While he didn't know where he was going, he wasn't going to be going home. He knew that. He didn't want to face his parents. Maybe, he'd just have to spend the next few hours wandering around town. He would make up a hangout to tell his parents about.
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John clutched his sticks with shaking hands, stomach rumbling as Henrik uncovered the set. When your church was kept unlocked, nowhere near residential areas, what else could you do? Everyone had already found their own instruments, but... John...It was small in retrospect, but bigger than anything he had ever played before. It was a real drumset. Not an assortment of objects that he could only hope sounded real enough– but real, scuffed and shockingly loud heads. Henrik's only advice was to bring his own sticks, as the church's sucked quite a bit.For a few seconds, nothing mattered. Not Simon bitching about how out of tune everything was, not Johannes nearly dropping the piano's lid on his fingers, not Henrik trying to explain that everything could be left as is because it was always untouched.All that existed was that drumset.He mumbled a quiet 'thank you' to a visibly excited Henrik. The twang of Tim's ready-tuned guitar hit John's ears first, leaving Simon and Jonas grumbling about how unfair it was that he already had one. Johannes was playing something sweet, something John didn't recognize. Henrik simply sat on the steps. Did he not play anything?John was too busy trying to rattle off the names of each piece to notice everything coming together. Jonas and Simon got their guitar in the only drop they could agree on, and Tim was promising they'd pull a third guitar out of storage soon enough. Johannes figured out the pedals of the piano, producing a much clearer tone than before.John sat still. He tapped the bass lightly, still effectively startling himself. It drew Johannes' attention, but the guitarists continued struggling. Without a word, Henrik understood. His eyes softened, and his mouth curled up."You can be loud. There's no one here but us."That was all he needed.The rest of the night seemed like a blur. Tim, though they'd never spoken directly, stepped up to John's set to play a solo to him. While Simon and Jonas couldn't be less impressed, John couldn't help but smile. He could see Tim's eyes searching for approval. It was answered with a wide smile, and a simple beat to back.No words could describe the light in Tim's expression. From his bared teeth, to his scrunched eyes... For a moment; truly, just a moment... John wasn't alone. It took until nearly two for the group to stumble out of the building, tired and still smiling from displaying talents they never got to show off otherwise. John couldn't remember the last time he felt like this. Had he ever felt like this?A few hours in, Jonas made a simple observation. They could form a band, but they had no bassist. After mumbles of acknowledgement and agreement, Jonas turned to Henrik and asked a simple question.
"Can you play bass?"
"No."
"Do you want to?"
A switch flipped in Henrik's brain. He quickly went from his calm, smiley mood to a stuttering mess of excuses and half-masked confirmations. It was... sad. Was he simply not allowed to? Was he scared? John wished he were close enough to ask.Long was the walk to the gas station, and quick was the fumble to grab snacks and drinks before they disassembled for the night. Simon seemed visibly sick as Johannes dragged him down the candy aisle, but... why? Was he just tired, or was it...?
"Do you wanna have a sleepover?"
Henrik's voice as gentle, but clear. It snapped John out of his trance."What?""We were gonna have a sleepover at Tim's. Someone was supposed to invite you, but I guess he forgot."Johannes looked away as Henrik spoke. John wanted to say yes, wanted to scream, cling on to his first invitation to anything like this. Instead, he gave the unfortunate half-truth."I don't have anything packed.""That's okay! Tim's got a lot of big-ass clothes, if you're okay with that? He shares all the time."John had a feeling he wasn't sharing out of pure generosity when it came to Henrik, but... he cast a look to the brunette, who squinted and smiled. Maybe Johannes was right about him needing glasses."I... I mean... sure, if that's alright...""Then, c'mon! Let's go!"
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Gagging.Loud, harsh gagging.John cringed at the sound of puke hitting the water. Simon always seemed sick.But only after eating.
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"I fucking hate you."Henrik giggled as he returned Johannes' tight grip, shaking just as hard between fear and laughter. Maybe watching scary videos in the middle of the night, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, wasn't a great idea.They'd drawn all the curtains and locked the door who-knows-how-many times. Still, the fear of a fictional killer loomed over them. Henrik laughed with unease and entertainment, while Johannes fought every urge to join him."Wanna cuddle?"Johannes blinked at the absurdity of Henrik's question. Who scares their best friend shitless, feeds the fear, and then asks to cuddle?Johannes crawled into Henrik's arms without a second question. Henrik's thighs were warm around his waist."At least, if somebody breaks in..."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
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Tim was utterly unshakeable.He'd seen a lot; words, blood, action. Someone could be dying, and he'd still be calm enough to keep the group together. It was simply a part of his character. Tim was a strong person.So, why was he crying?Jonas didn't speak, as neither did Tim. The water spots on his glasses said more than enough. He pulled them off, wiped his eyes one more time, and sighed."I'm sorry you had to see that.""Tim, what–""Nothing, dear. It's nothing."
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"Is there a reason we have loose razors in the bathroom? I haven't seen a single one of you use a refillable razor. Ever. Like..."Jonas whisked a familiar blade out of his pocket. Johannes cringed, resisting every urge to look over at Henrik."This shit is nasty."It was true. Whatever was on that razor had transcended rust and grown into a whole new kind of gross. John not-so-subtly eyed Johannes, who shrugged back. He cleaned his blades after use, but he didn't use razors anyway."Are any of you going to answer me?"The silence answered pretty well. Jonas sighed."I'm... I'm just gonna throw them away. Cool?"A general mumble of agreement. Johannes didn't hear Henrik agree.Silence followed, until Jonas was out of earshot. John's head whipped around, and he latched onto Henrik's wrist. The latter just groaned.
"Which one of you–?!"
"Don't grab him like that," Tim cut in. John rolled his eyes, digging his nails in. Was he hoping to hit something? To get a reaction?Johannes didn't say anything.His arms were clean.
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Tim barely dragged himself out of bed to get the door. He doubled over in his ache, pleasantly surprised to meet who was knocking. He didn't get to say anything before Henrik grabbed his wrist.Midnight, and Henrik was dragging Tim to the bathroom. Tim stuttered for words."Baby, I love you, but I– I already showered today, and I'm not really in the mood to–"The light was already on. What did he have planned, now? Was he going to say anything?"Henrik, what–"He turned around, glass in hand, and thrust it to Tim's chest. The cloudy liquid inside made his stomach churn– worse than it already was."Henrik, you... What... What do you want me to..."He couldn't follow Henrik's frantic hand movements. The more Tim's brow furrowed, the worse Henrik frowned. Tim passed the glass to the counter, only hearing a dull thud before he could turn back around.Henrik, head now throbbing from the hit, grabbed the glass for himself. He took long chug, fighting to swallow and pointing to the toilet. The pieces still wouldn't click. He jabbed Tim's stomach."This."Was that all he could say? Tim almost folded over Henrik's hand. What did 'this' mean, here? A sharp pain hit him, in turn with realization.He was awful at making himself throw up.Of course Jonas had said something. His throat hurt from the thought. He didn't know how Simon did it.He didn't realize just how jittery Henrik was, glass shaking and hands itching. Watching it dawn on Tim wasn't enough. He needed him to just hurry up and puke. He just wanted to help.Henrik shuffled back, nearly tripping into the tub as Tim came to kneel in front of the toilet. The brunette took a seat on the tub's edge, watching Tim try to get the salt water down.Henrik gathered the blonde locks in his hands, just before the solution hit Tim's gag reflex. There was nothing to think about as his stomach finally rejected the half-dissolved medication that had fucked him over. Henrik didn't speak. Tears pricked his eyes, but he didn't speak. He couldn't. It hurt to make noise. He just wanted to help.Tim just stared at what remained of the pills. It took a moment for the relief of release to wash over him; a dunk of ice-cold water in a record high heat. Once he was done coughing and hacking, he returned his eyes to Henrik."Thank you...?"Henrik couldn't smile.
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"That was a seizure."John's flat tone sent chills down Jonas' spine. The former stared into the distance in thought."But, he wasn't...""Seizures aren't always spasms. He's been zoning out for days, now, but... that was different. Did you see how he fell into Johannes? He gagged, too. He looked like he was awake, right?""I mean... Yeah...""I don't think he was conscious at all."John's words left a deafening silence in the air. Tim didn't have a history of seizures, did he? They would know if he did. So, what..."I think he took Henrik's meds."That wasn't an accusation to just throw around. Sensing Jonas' shock, John spoke once more."Bupropion, right? That can cause seizures."But what was Jonas supposed to say?
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Nobody spoke. What were they supposed to say? Tim twirled Jonas' dreads around his fingers. He always enjoyed going to Tim after an argument, but..."I can tell you now, Jonas, he didn't mean it. We all say things in the heat of the moment, and–""Jesus Christ– Stop fucking defending him!"Tim flinched as Jonas yanked away from his hands. Nobody ever yelled at Tim. He kept his mouth shut as the dreaded guitarist continued."We know you have a favorite, but FUCK! It gets ANNOYING!"We love you, Tim, but I know I'm not the only person who feels like this. Have you ever noticed that John doesn't even bother trying to talk to you anymore? Have you ever thought about anybody's feelings, other than Henrik's? Just for a second?"Tim didn't speak. He kept his jaw tight, and his eyes on Jonas'. In almost no time, the latter immediately broke down again. He curled himself back up against Tim's chest."Sorry, I'm sorry, I just... I don't... He...""He was right, wasn't he?"Tim didn't want to say anything. Still, he spoke softly."Of course not. We all have our moments, Jonas. Nothing's been easy. You need to be easier on yourself."The hours wore on in silence. The tears that threatened Tim's eyes eventually dried, but the dread remained. He hadn't even noticed when Jonas had fallen asleep.His head hung heavy.Was he really that neglectful? He was trying, but... there was only so much of him to go around. He'd known Henrik the longest, too, but... He didn't mean to play favorites. What kind of partner was he? He was trying. He really was.But when was 'trying' ever enough?
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"It's a shame he doesn't come out more," Johannes commented as he pitched another pebble. Two skips, and it sunk. Simon snorted."He's probably just having one of those days. You know how he is.""Maybe he just can't swim," Jonas suggested. He received a nod from both of the previous parties."I wouldn't put that past him," Johannes added. Simon agreed with another laugh, and a quiet "don't be surprised."Simon picked another rock from the pile he had created with Johannes, tossing it without a second thought. Johannes gave up counting the skips well before it sank. Instead, he simply bumped Simon into the water. John peered over the dock's edge to watch the guitarist thrash."Loser," he giggled.Still, John gave Simon a hand to latch onto. Tim simply watched the commotion from Jonas' shoulder."You're so mean to each other, sometimes..."
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Henrik's foot nudged John's under the table. Eleven at night, and they were alone, eating almond cake. It was easy and fast. A flutter filled John's ribs every time the blonde caught his leg.Some time ago, Henrik tangled up their fingers as they ate. John could tell it wasn't anything to Henrik. Still, he couldn't keep his mind from reeling.He knew Henrik would taste sweet. He couldn't help but carve each and every one of the blonde's features into his mind; hopefully, forever.Henrik pursed his lips with every bite to avoid getting any on his lips. His eyelashes batted and glowed every time the powdered sugar flew back in his face. He had to push his hair behind his ear every minute or so to keep it out of his plate. John wanted to reach out, to push it back himself. Instead, he simply watched the struggle.John was too distracted to eat at half of Henrik's pace. By the time the blonde was sucking his thumb clean, John was barely halfway through his slice. Eating with his hands hadn't been as upsetting as he was worried."Is it bad?"Henrik's face was drowned in worry. John flinched."Whuh– Oh– No, I just– uhm– sorry, I–"Henrik, visibly hurt, didn't press. John wolfed down his cake in the few moments Henrik looked away. He seemed too distracted by the window. Soon, it was time for John to leave. Not that his parents cared if he was gone, but... he didn't want to burden Henrik any longer. The latter still held John's hand the entire way to the door. As soon as it opened, a roll of thunder startled them out of their silence."It's... It's raining."The water pounded against the sidewalk, splashing the boys and stressing the grass. Henrik squeezed John's hand."You know... I can leave a message on your parent's answering machine. You can stay the night."John didn't want to tell him that it more than likely wouldn't go through. John didn't want to tell him that he couldn't bear to waste someone else's water and soap if he should shower. John didn't want to let his courage win over his common sense.But Henrik was already tugging on his shirt. Breathless stutters fell over John's lips, useless to what was coming.
"Please?"
John barely recognized the feeling that struck in his chest. Without another thought, he nodded– and was aptly awarded with a kiss."You can go to my room," he giggled as he released John from his grip. "I'll go call. Feel free to sit on the bed."A burning welled above and below. John nodded, rushing off to Henrik's room and beginning to struggle with his tape.Maybe tonight would be... fun?
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A gentle squeeze to Henrik's arm, and he yanked John back out of the water. The ginger, now sopping wet, coughed up a fair mouthful of water."Man, what puts you in the mood to do this?"The moon was nearly gone, producing black waters and strange ideas in both teen's heads."I... I just wanna feel the water. And I know you'll pull me out."Henrik shrugged, releasing John's neck to pull his hair back."Okay. Now do me."John was slow, gentle, hesitant. His hands wrapped around gently, Henrik's hands coming to brace his arms."Same... same rules, okay?""Yeah... C'mon. I'm curious."A deep breath, no warning, and Henrik disappeared into the dark.He didn't fight. He didn't struggle, at all. The black swallowed him, and John could only watch through bleary eyes. He didn't quite remember where this came from. Now, he was realizing, taking his meds beforehand was a bad idea.Was Henrik going to tap out? He'd seen the guy hold his breath when Jonas "jokingly" strangled him, but... this felt unreal. Maybe it was just the emptiness of the world around them. He almost didn't feel Henrik squeezing his arm.The blonde came up with a gasp, eyes wide open. They met John's, and a water-logged smile unfurled. Before John knew it;"Your hands are so soft," was being whispered against his lips.The water almost tasted sweet on Henrik's lips. John could easily tell he'd eaten pineapple before showing up. He knew that sting anywhere.This was just about the most normal summer activity John could think of. Drowning each other under a new moon, making out in the water... he traced the outline of Henrik's shirt on his chest. Henrik hummed in encouragement, before pulling away to nip John's earlobe."You're so pretty," he whispers."I love you," he adds.
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The moon was as quiet as the duo. There was so much to be said, and so little time. Tim rolled a bluebonnet between his fingers, resisting the urge to stick it in Henrik's hair with the rest.Instead, he allowed his hand to creep toward his friend's. Henrik flinched as Tim embraced his hand."I'm gonna miss you."Henrik didn't say anything, but Tim could feel it. He always started shaking before he cried.Would this really be their last time together? Picking flowers, laying together, admiring the moon... The last four years had gone by so fast. Tim squeezed his hand a little tighter."I don't want to go," Henrik sniffled, voice splintering off into whines."I know. Me, neither."Tim gave in, and reached over to tuck the blue-belled stalk into Henrik's hair. It quickly broke Henrik's tears, drawing out nervous giggles."You know, Henrik... I always thought you were pretty."He only giggled harder. Tim smiled."You– You– Aw... You... I mean..."Tim propped himself up on his elbows, turning over to crane over Henrik. He could still see how red the blonde was under a waning moon."So, so pretty..."Tim weaved his fingers in the hair beneath Henrik's head. Henrik's eyes darted around Tim's face, before they finally locked gazes."I love you."Henrik's eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but nothing would come. It closed again, and Tim took his chance.It was only a couple seconds. It was warm, gentle... If Henrik ever imagined love, this had to be it. Was this what heaven felt like? Tim pulled away before he could fully reciprocate.Then, a thought hit Henrik. Just as quickly as they had disappeared, the tears welled up again. Tim jumped to wipe them away."Shit, shit... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–""I wish you were a girl."Things refused to click in Tim's head. After a moment of thought, his face fell. He knew Henrik's background. He should have known better.Tim pulled back slowly, bringing his knees to his chest and staring at the surrounding flowers. Henrik's sobbing drowned out the wind. Tim didn't care about heaven or hell, but... Henrik.Henrik couldn't take this.Tim stood up to fold their blanket. Henrik, still bawling his eyes out, moved without question. He kept his face hidden as Tim finished cleaning up their spot.And, to think...he'd never see Henrik again.
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"He makes me go stupid, Henrik!""He's three years older than you.""So are you!"Henrik shrugged and nodded, while Tim threw his face in a pillow. It muffled his scream."Just say something. I'm sure he won't mind.""But what if he doesn't like me? I don't wanna ruin our friendship...""He looks at you softer than he looks at anyone else."Tim's face, barely lifted from the pillow, flooded with pink. It soon returned, hiding Tim's face while he kicked his feet like a girl."That doesn't mean anything! That's how he looks at– at– well–""He likes you, Tim. C'mon.""Shut up!""Aw... You don't wanna tell him? With flowers? You don't want him to push them aside... lock eyes, wrap his hands around your waist, kiss you softl–"
"SHUT UP!"
Henrik snickered."You like it."Tim huffed. Henrik combed his fingers through the brunette locks."I know he likes you, Tim. There's no way he doesn't."Tim blinked a couple times, struggling to look up and meet Henrik's eyes. There was no way he could be right. Still, Henrik continued."How about... listen... I ask Johannes about what he likes, I buy whatever it is, and you figure out how you're gonna tell him. I won't get anything big or extravagant, but... at least a nice gesture, you know?"Tim stayed quiet for a moment, then two. He whispered, softly,"For real?""For real." It must have been the longest week of Tim's life. He couldn't feel anything but his heart racing. He would have swallowed his tongue, if he could. Still, his friend looked down on him with curious eyes."I... uhm... hi," he barely managed. He shakily held out the small bag Henrik had prepared. "This... This is for you."Something in Jonas' eyes lit up, but... there was a hint of... disappointment? In what? Tim's stomach churned as the blonde opened the bag."Oh, shit... There's no fuckin' way. You're joking."Tim flushed. He already knew what to say, as fed to him by Henrik."I found them at the thrift, and... well, I thought of you."When Henrik handed him a stack of backward comics, Tim nearly called him insane. It took a long rerun of Johannes' suggestions, and a topping of Slayer albums to convince him. Though, Jonas was the one who nervously rubbed the back of his neck."You, uh... You said you had something to tell me."Tim nearly threw up. Any courage that had built up to this point, evaporated in an instant. His mouth went dry as he tried to speak. He looked to the floor for comfort. His words didn't come out quite right, tumbling out in a way-too-loud–"I like you."Jonas froze. Tim's heart sank. Before he could take it back, Jonas was red and stuttering for words. Nothing would come out. Still, Tim didn't want to interrupt. After so long, he opened his mouth to apologize. Jonas spoke in his place."Thank God."Tim flinched. His eyes finally peeled from the ground, meeting the bright blue shock and relief in Jonas' own."I... I've been waiting," the blonde barely managed. "I... I..."The words wouldn't come. Instead, Jonas stepped forward and brushed the hair out of Tim's face. The sun cast a warm glow over his embarrassed eyes."Can... Can I?""Yeah," Tim rasped. Jonas didn't hesitate.For just a moment, it didn't matter who saw them. All that mattered was their sun-warm skin and the sensation of their lips on one another's. Jonas' hand felt like a blessing to Tim, a gentle outline on his back. It wasn't long until he found his own hands wrapped around the back of Jonas' neck.The kiss must have lasted forever, but it still wasn't enough. Jonas' hands were gentle as they stroked Tim's hair. Tim almost didn't hear what little came next."Do you... uhm... wanna go out some time? We can, like... grab something to eat, or... maybe hang out...""We... We can head back to my place, if... if you don't mind... My parents aren't home, so I can make us something to eat..."Jonas was clearly at a loss. Tim gently grabbed the taller boy's hands, waiting for an answer as he drew circles with his thumb."That... that sounds great, actually," Jonas managed with the shyest smile Tim had ever seen. He returned the expression, twice as wide and just as blisteringly nervous.He hoped Henrik wouldn't mind the company.
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"What happened?""Well, we had a fight, and... I said a lot of things I didn't mean, and... I'm... I... He won't talk to me..."Kräm was comforting Johannes before Tim could move, headbutting the singer's shin and graciously accepting his hand on her head. Nobody was a bigger lover than Tim's cat."We all make mistakes, Johannes. I'm sure he's just taking a moment to recoup.""But, I... I tried apologizing. A lot. That's usually what he wants, but... he wouldn't even open the door... I'm just... I'm scared."Tim resisting twisting his own face in concern. Henrik had never not come to him after a fight with someone else. He didn't want to ask, but..."Johannes, what... What did you say, exactly?"Fear struck Johannes' eyes. His petting hand began shaking."I... uhm... well..."I didn't mean it, I just... I told him he was pissing me off by being so clingy all the time. I wanted to be alone, and... when he started shutting down and apologizing, I... I called him manipulative... and said he was guilt-tripping me, and... and... I don't know... I don't know why I said it. I didn't... I didn't mean it... I'm sorry..."Tim wouldn't have spoken to him after that, either.He didn't realize that his mouth fell open until he shut it. They all lashed out quite often, but... as bad as it would sound, it was always Henrik insulting someone else. Jonas' words burnt in the back of Tim's mind.But who was he to defend?Johannes could clearly sense Tim's verdict, and the tears began again. Tim heard the apologies, but he couldn't blame Henrik. Still, he stood and moved to Johannes' back."He'll come out soon enough. Don't worry too much, baby."Johannes nodded uneasily. He leaned back into the chair, and Tim's chest by proxy. The blonde pressed a kiss to his bandmate's temple, humming softly. He hated lying to Johannes like this.
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"Come here," his mother beckoned. John locked up, just like the door he had just closed. He was rarely acknowledged in this place. Hesitantly, and rather robotically, he shuffled toward his mother. The closer he got, the more her cigarette smoke suffocated him."Look at me."He lifted his eyes, keeping his head down."Where were you?""At Johannes' house... Working on our history stuff..."Not entirely untrue. He had been at Johannes' house, but... definitely not for work. His mother seemed to think about it, for a second. She searched with her eyes, and her brows suddenly furrowed."Show me your neck."Swallowing nervously, and still coughing from the hazard entering his lungs, he gave her the wrong side. Her frown was something he'd never seen before.
"Other side, Freya."
That name made John's head hurt. He couldn't move, so his mother moved his face for him. She was never this physical. His stomach dropped as she caught herself in a gasp.A big, swelling bruise stared back at her. It was only one of many, but the only above his neckline."That's fucking disgusting," she growled as she released her grip on John's jaw. He barely whimpered, covering the spot with his sleeved hand."Do you know what happened when I had sex at your age, Freya? Do you remember?""Mom, we weren't... We wouldn't...""Bullshit. You happened. Do you see where we are, now?""Mom! We weren't doing that! Please!"A single, calm motion for John to shut his mouth. He shut up nearly immediately, with fear icing every vein in his body."You are not going to end up some trashy whore with no father to her children, alright? You are not going over there again.""But–! Mom!""Go to your room."Silence, for a moment. This would be a losing battle. His mother's words echoed as he walked. Disgusting? Whore? They hadn't even done anything. All they did was kiss and bite.He shut the door quietly, with smoke still stuck to his lungs. He dragged himself to bed, dropped his bag, and laid down. He curled his arms around a pillow, quickly realizing that his sweater still smelled of Johannes. He buried his face in the sleeve. Every breath was more calming than the last, but... tears pricked his eyes.Was he really... disgusting?
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Ever unmoving was the King.Everyone in the Orchestra could see it. They snickered every time he tensed under his Officer's hand.Johannes was always a very... cuddly type. From the day he was a healthy twenty-one, appointed as the King's right-hand, he'd been so... touchy. Very touchy. The King resisted gnawing his lip in their regular predicament.In his upwards of four-thousand years of life, never had he had an Officer so... fond? Physical? Was there a word for it? Regardless, it felt so... wrong.This man wasn't even forty. The King could barely allow himself the touch of somebody not even a hundreth his own age.Johannes' hand always nested comfortably on the small of his King's back as they walked. With a face so red, you'd believe his Majesty to have scarlet fever.A guilt always chewed at his mind. The Officer could flaunt his grown age, his tall stature, his mature features; and it would never move the King's thought. No matter what he said, the only thing that lingered was the reminder that this man was only a fraction of the King's age.There was always some sort of resistance– the fact that his Officer was, in fact, an adult... and very interested in his King. Not even His own citizens could deny such a connection. The Orchestra certainly didn't. As always, Tim laughed."Seriously, man! This is your chance! If you don't have him, you're never going to find anybody!""It's not right."Even as unconcerned as Henrik usually was, he couldn't help but throw in his own two cents."Tim really has a point, you know. It's now or never. Once you find someone... you shouldn't ever let them go. You still need to grab on, while you can."John, as quiet as he was, simply nodded along. This was one hell of a three-on-one, and the one was clearly losing. The King pinched the bridge of his nose, repositioning Tim's fingers over his frets."Are you always this distracted?""Aw, c'mon! It's not like you want a queen, do you?""That's different, Tim.""Oh, sure it is. You dig your Officer, don't y– ow!"The strings just happened to dig into Tim's fingers as the King jolted. Henrik snickered softly, much to his fellow musician's dismay."Just give it some thought," the brunette suggested, watching his peer recover from the wire in his skin. "I'm sure he'd be more than willing to give you some." His wink nearly sent His Majesty over the edge.
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It wasn’t too unlike the Officer to pull such a stunt; complaining of worry, anxiety, nightmares-- just to share a bed with the King. As always, the King withdrew himself. He kept his closed eyes to the ceiling, but curiosity peeped one open as he heard the whisper of fabric hitting the floor.“Eckerström?”“Your Majesty?”“What was that?”The King could practically hear his Officer’s sly grin.“Oh, my Lord, you see... It's been... quite warm, lately. I’m simply cooling down.”Despite this, the Officer crawled beneath the sheets and found his place against the King. If it was that hot, he could have slept on top of the covers. Rather, the King kept his mouth shut tightly. He tried to ignore the feeling of soft flesh against his sleeve.The Officer simply hummed as he pressed his body flush against his King’s. It was at this point, maybe, that the King should have pushed him away, but... he couldn’t help it. He enjoyed the company, regardless of how... intimate? No, not quite the word...Not until Johannes found his hand tempting the edge of his King’s shirt.He didn’t want to recall the events in the detail they reached. All Jonas-- not even the King-- knew, was that he had been... missing out. It felt criminal, but not quite in the way that being celibate for upwards of four thousand years suggested.Johannes, as beautiful and smug as he was beneath his King, was still... so young. He’d finally gotten his way, so... why was he still clinging onto the King the same way he did before? The question ached as the Officer carded his fingers through his King’s hair, as always.“You seem quite tired today, my Lord,” Johannes mused. He was more than smug about the entire incident, and the entire castle could tell. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, for the Orchestra.“As always, Eckerström. It’s never easy when Summer ends.”“But, my Lord, Summer is at its peak! Should we not celebrate? Has the solstice worn you out?”Few times had the King ever wanted to shut his Officer’s mouth so cruelly. Despite this, he simply sighed.“Nothing of the likes. Running an entire kingdom is nowhere near as easy as you’d think.”“Oh, Sir! Don’t say that! I’ve been working with you for almost two score!”There was no point in continuing to argue. Another tired sigh.“Whatever you say.”The King willed himself to not hear his Officer’s whines and complaints. This wasn’t unusual, of course, but it never got any less tiring. As much as he’d like to say he loved his... partner, companion, whatever you’d like to call him... such things got boring. Fast. The entire day seemed boring, in fact. There was nothing to review, no real conflicts to settle. Sure, he should have been grateful for such peace, but... it only gave him more time to think. Time to think about what had occurred between himself and his Officer. He would have rather thought about anything else. Still... the memory kept him flush, not dissimilar to the latest fevers in the city below.Rather mindful of the King’s conflict, Henrik giggled softly.“Anything you’d like to tell us, good Sir?”“Not particularly,” the King grumbled. That was all the confirmation they needed.Tim simply hummed and patted his Majesty’s back. As much as he’d like to press, he didn’t want to test his Ruler’s patience. He quite liked his position in the Orchestra.
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"And what's a piece as fine as you doing out here?"The figure paused, tailored black creating a beautiful outline against the morning sun. Simon picked at his records, hoping the beauty would turn around to show her face.And that, he did.He appeared as any other citizen, save for the stars along his collar and the buttons down his front. Horror quickly set into Simon's chest, mirroring the eyes of the royal staff mere yards away.Simon nearly folded over his merchandise in an attempt to bow apologetically. The staff only came closer, and Simon screwed his eyes shut.Nothing came, though. Nothing except for the wrestling of the brunette browsing his albums."Ah," is the only thing he said, pulling out a double LP. Simon, salesman mode rattled, tried to laugh his first impression off. If the King's staff was there, then the King was even closer. His hands hovered around the edges of the sleeve."Hm... Tool? They don't sell too well around here, very polarizing... are you a prog metal fan?""How much?""Oh... Well, that's a very limited copy of said album, but–"The curly brunette shifted his weight onto one hip, the most effective silent form of "shut up." Simon bit his lip, and nodded."Seventy-two."Simon quietly thanked the customer as he placed a few neatly-folded bills into his palm, but said customer gave him no time to even offer a bag. He didn't even look at the CDs. Simon frowned.It was too early for much foot traffic– he wouldn't have to worry about any more customers for a while, he thought– until two more guards in the latest uniforms rushed up. Simon had only seen this black uniform on a select few subjects, so these two were familiar, but..."Have you seen a brunette with curly hair; about this tall, blue eyes, same uniform, and... shit... what else?"The taller of the two simply doubled over, clearly worn out from running. Simon looked to the very direction their assumed-peer had disappeared to."That... That way," he managed. The blonde groaned and tossed his head back, but tugged on his fellow guard."C'mon, we don't have all day," he grunted. "You know how the King gets when we don't stick together..."The tall one nearly fell forward, but nodded. Simon watched them trail off, obviously worn out. Sighing, he turned to the sky, eyes widening. The first guard had come through at sunrise.It was nearly noon.
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The King's Head.A Royal Orchestra, huh? If Simon had known that his guitar skills could get him into the castle, he would have done so years ago. It would have given him, his family, an easy life. He took another long draw of beer as the King took his seat, and the people burst into applause.A single note, a raised hand, shut them down.He tried to be calm. The King trusted his people, which meant that Simon was close enough to simply step onstage if he so wished. Unfortunately, the court jester cut into his vision, interrupting that thought.The following members must have been what startled him the most.The tallest of the three took a seat behind the rather small drum set, seemingly reciting a prayer. Brunette and blonde came arm-in-arm, bickering about something too quiet to hear. Either way, it was playful enough to end in chuckles. Everyone took their places, and Simon briefly met the bassist's eye. Suddenly, the court jester's shoes were so interesting to Simon.He couldn't make out a majority of the lyrics.Not that he was focused on them, anyway. The bassist's mouth was agape for a majority of the set, whether it be mouthing the lyrics or bearing his teeth in a visibly painful plucking style. A couple times, the jester leaned against him or pet him. Were they fond of each other? Simon traced the player's uniform with his eyes.He appreciated the diversity of the set. Death, funk, a tinge of country... The King had chosen a good lineup, hadn't he? Where did these people come from, anyway? Was it fair to question? He'd heard murmurs that they were refugees, but...Soon, the rigid and organized movements came to an end, with the final 'harvest.' the guitarist burst into audible giggles, while the drummer folded over his set. The bassist simply sunk back, into the amps.Too soon, the ensemble disappeared backstage. Simon frowned, turning his attention back to his beer. He was only just starting to pick at the bassist's buttons, with his eyes.
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He could only readjust the sleeves so many ways. Even once it finally covered everything, it... it...A hard, droning pain hit Henrik's stomach.He was still ugly.His body wasn't made for this. When he pulled the top part to a length he liked, it made the skirt too short for comfort. If he left the skirt as-is, the top was too long at the sides. When he dropped his arms, the whole dress seemed too... saggy.What was the point in this?Everyone tried their hardest to lie to him. He knew he couldn't be "cute," or "pretty." His hair was too much for clips (regardless of style, John found out.) His torso was too wide to be for anything but an unbuttoned A-line.No amount of safety pins could save him. Defeat sunk deep into his muscles, pushing out of his eyes and blurring his vision. A quiet sniffle, and he gathered himself. He wasn't going to cry. Not here.Still; he fought tears as he pulled the dress up, over his head. Maybe he should have just left the crossdressing to Jonas.There was no point in trying the other dresses on. Clothes to the rack, tag to the employee, and disappointment on Jonas and Tim's faces."I didn't like them," he mumbled before either one could ask. Nothing else was said.Johannes and John seemed to find outfits just fine. They stayed masculine, anyway. Why would Henrik think he could be nice and feminine, again? Besides delusion?Almost sensing the discomfort, Jonas pressed a kiss to the crown of Henrik's skull. It had been a long day, and it wasn't going to end any time soon. "You know you can take the tags off, right?"John bit his tongue as Johannes tilted his head."But, they're... they're nice clothes...""Exactly. What's the point of keeping the tags on?""What if we have to take them back?""John, we... We don't have to... what?"John tapped his fingers along the hanger, struggling for words. He didn't need to explain, though. Everyone knew."We don't have to worry about that, baby;" Tim murmured against John's ear, gentle as ever. "Just go ahead and pop the tags. I'll wash 'em tomorrow."John smiled, awkward and uneasy. His hands trembled as he struggled to pull the paper from fabric. Johannes tossed the scissors to his side of the bed. Soon, everyone was content in their own spots. Everyone except for Henrik, at least, who was preparing to leave."Promise you'll be back tomorrow?"Jonas' voice was soft– softer than anyone could expect of the king."If Freyja lets me out," Henrik joked with the amusement of a man who just learned his dog died. It went right over Jonas' head."Are you... Are you ever going to leave her?"Whatever trace of humor was left in Henrik's face drained, right along what little color he had. He bit his lip, much to Jonas' hurt."I... I will. Some day."Silence. They both knew it was untrue. She'd have to initiate it."Can you... Can you at least try?"Silence, again. Henrik could only lie so much. Instead of continuing, the king accepted his defeat. His voice raised back to its normal level, deep and mellow."Get home safe. We love you, Henrik. Don't you ever forget that."No 'I love you, too.' Only a brief 'uh-huh,' and quickly slipping out the door. Jonas didn't bother waiting for Henrik to get in his car. He didn't want to see him anymore. He didn't see how everyone kept such persistent faith in such...a coward.
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He couldn't resist the tears tugging at his eyes.Never, had he felt so alone. Sure, he had friends. He had a family. He had a partner. What else could he possibly want?Maybe he just wanted to be wanted.Henrik knew he wasn't desirable. It never got any easier to accept.Nothing could convince him otherwise. Simon only spoke sweet hymns of affection. His touch was delicate, as if handling porcelain. The man brought nothing but love to Henrik, so... why didn't he feel loved?He just wanted this feeling to go away. At some point in time, surely, not everything had been such a drag. At some point in time, he found enjoyment in going out. At some point in time, he felt... something. Something good.Everything had been so draining, lately. School, hobbies, friends... it all felt pointless. The ground he stood on was beginning to crumble.It wasn't like he could take the easy way out. He didn't want... to die. It was such a scary idea. He didn't want it to hurt, to be instant, to be... over. So, what did he want? If he didn't want to live, and didn't want to die?The lack of new messages reminded him.Why did making new friends have to be so hard? Why did he have to chicken out of every activity together? No wonder they never tried to talk to him. He just wasn't half of what their pre-existing friend group was.The bed was cold, his eyes were wet, and the crickets were soft. He hoped everyone else was having fun with their sleepover. Maybe if he weren't such a coward, then...he couldn't finish the thought.It was time for bed.
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She was gone, and that was it. Henrik's shoulder was the warmest place he could find. There was no music, today. All that he could hear was his own sobs, and the rain that fought to be let in. He couldn't sleep this one off. He tried.He never got to say goodbye. It wasn't fair. He always said he'd come back to her. Nobody thought to tell him he'd lost his chance? So long ago?The man refused to even tell him where she was buried. His own mother– and he didn't even get to pay his respects? What did he do to deserve this?He couldn't remember how the sound of her voice. He couldn't remember her smell. Even the feeling of her arms around him was beginning to fade. He'd never get the chance to get those memories back, now. There was no going back.No more laughter over cooking. No more long stories in the afternoon. No more embarrassing kisses before school. All that remained was the hole in the ground, and the hole in his heart.There was no true silence. He knew he was drooling, getting snot on his partner's shirt. For once, it didn't matter. Nothing did. No love could match his mother's. No touch could soothe his cries like hers.It was easier to convince himself that he wasn't there. She couldn't be gone. One of these days, she'd pick up the phone. They'd catch up on all the years. Everything would be okay– just for once.He could just be Jonas, for a moment.No more Kungen. No more manly, strong persona. He could just relax, this once. He could be his momma's baby, just like he'd always been. He wouldn't have to worry about his father, just for once. He could curl up and cry, and cry, and cry.He would be safe, just for once.Still, the opportunity would never arise. He'd heard it from every mouth that would speak. She was dead. She had been dead.She had been so beautiful. He knew she was, no matter how blurry his memories of her were. He could never remember her smile, but he remembered watching the photos on the mantel as he grew up. He had always wondered if she'd smiled since the day she married his father.He never looked like her. The only thing he inherited was her eyes– always so fearful and on-edge. He'd hated it, growing up. He felt so... weak. His father's raised hand never did anything to help that.He didn't know what his last memory of her was. Maybe it was her sobbing over the table the night he was kicked out. Maybe it was her begging his father to change his mind, to let him stay, to talk it out. Maybe it was the sound of his father's palm meeting her face.Nothing spanned beyond that night. The night he was let go, he found his belongings in shards and shambles across the yard. He tried not to care as he loaded everything into the car. He really tried.It had rained all night. He came to the only person awake at such an hour, soaking wet and sobbing harder than he ever thought he would.And here they were, all over again. He thought he'd lost enough that night. Clearly, it wasn't enough to whoever was watching over him.All he could do was beg and cry, now.He would never see her again.
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"I... I'm a boy," the ginger muttered.Henrik blinked in all of two seconds of surprise, before nodding. He'd always thought Freya was a bit... too tomboyish, honestly."Do you know what you want to go by?"Freya shook his head, clearly even more nervous than before. Henrik leaned forward, gently taking the older boy into his arms."Hey, hey... You know Johannes and I are here for you, okay? Tim, too. Maybe you two could trade names."The last joke missed completely. Henrik bit his lip in embarrassment."I... I have something else to tell you.""Hm?""I... I think I..."He pulled back just slightly, to examine his crush's face. Henrik's eyes were filled with concern, curiousity... he couldn't say it. Not if he wanted to."I... think I like..."
You.
"Johannes."It wasn't a complete lie. He hated having a crush on two people at once.A much wider smile than Freya expected crossed Henrik's face, accompanied by a giggle. He pulled the ginger back into his chest, allowing the boy to hear his racing heartbeat."You two would make such a cute couple..."Freya, lost for words, buried his face further in Henrik's chest."Oh, baby... don't cry... I'm here..."So, naturally, he cried anyway.It was nice to be accepted.
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"It must be weird being a girl in an all-boys school."The comment didn't catch her too off guard. Tim simply twirled the hair around her finger, before lightly chewing her nail."Honestly... it really is. I mean... Henke is the only person who knows, which makes things a lot easier, but... with teachers, and stuff? I don't know..."Johannes petted the hair on the back of Tim's head, humming accordingly. She was already beautiful enough. Transitioning wouldn't be hard, save for her natural features."Don't push yourself to tell people if it's not safe, okay...? Only a couple more years, and you'll be out of there..."With a shaky breath, Tim nodded. She was lucky enough to have supportive parents, willing to spend and acknowledge and... guilt panged her stomach.She nodded, uneasy as ever."I... I won't."
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Even at near-noon, it seemed much too early to get up. Henrik pushed his face further into Simon's chest, whining softly."Do you have to?""I have work, baby...""But... can't you just... stay, a little longer...?"It was hard to resist when he asked so softly. It was always nice when Henrik's parents were on their escapades, leaving the boys with the house to themselves... no time was to be wasted, but..."Well, I have to make money somehow, don't I?"Henrik's response was squeezing Simon even tighter. He resisted a low chuckle."Hey, Henke... I'll tell you what... how about we go to dinner when I get off? Does that sound okay?"After a moment's hesitation, Henrik finally lifted his head from its place in Simon's shirt."Promise?""Of course. You can choose where."Henrik's grip loosened, before he let go entirely. Still, he craned his neck to meet Simon's level."Say you love me.""I love you," Simon sing-songed. He always enjoyed this bit."Now, kiss me."A small peck."Again."A deeper, but still small kiss."Hm... good enough. Are you going to pick me up, or should I walk?""I'll pick you up... you'll need the strength, later."Henrik giggled, giving Simon's lips one last brush before playfully shoving him away."Go, my love. Seek the glory you've always wanted for this family.""And you said you're not doing theatre?""Oh, hush."Simon pulled his uniform from its place beneath Henrik's bed, seeing as he'd been here for a while. Another kiss to Henrik's forehead, before replacing his shirt and searching for his belt."What time should I get... oh, shit... Are we going as soon as you get off? Are you gonna get changed before we do?""Mm... I've got some clothes in my car, if you don't mind.""Not at all," Henrik fawned, eyes settled on Simon's back until it was covered again. "You're so pretty.""Are you talking to me, or my butt?""A little bit of both."Some more shared giggles, kisses, and dramatic goodbyes. Henrik simply rolled over to go back to sleep as Simon trodded back outside. The sun was bright as ever, but it was still chilly. So much for summer.He loved summer nights, though. Time alone with Henrik, intimate and romantic as ever, no worries of or about interruption...Oh, tonight would be sweet.
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"In, out... In... Out... c'mon... breathe, Henrik... breathe..."Henrik could only groan and sniffle against Johannes' shoulder. As much as he hated crying in front of someone... he needed the arms around him. He needed the guidance. He needed the love."It's okay... You're okay... You're okay... C'mon... breathe for me..."Another shuddering breath, and a whimper. Johannes was so warm. This was so warm.Henrik couldn't help this feeling; the familiar crumble in his chest, the way his entire mood folded so quickly. Yes, he had started the fight with Jonas. No, he didn't mean a single thing he said. He understood the consequences of his actions, but...He didn't have to speak. He simply leaned against Johannes' chest, failing to choke down another sob. It was strange to be so safe. He didn't deserve this.Still; Johannes pressed a gentle, warm kiss to Henrik's hair. A minimal gesture, but... one of comfort, nonetheless.As much as Johannes loved him, it couldn't stop the chest pain. The tears. The thoughts. Henrik didn't even want to hurt himself. He just wanted to disappear.The only way to settle this would be to sleep it off. That was the only thing that ever worked, and they both knew it. Johannes was quiet as he rested his head on Henrik's, speaking as softly as he could."Do you... want to go to bed?"It wasn't even a question. Johannes took Henrik's somewhat quieting sobs as a 'yes.' Johannes sat on the edge of the bed as Henrik settled in, the faux brunette's eyes red and swollen in the low light of the moon. Whatever was going through Henrik's head, now, Johannes knew wasn't even related to the fight.He gently guided Henrik's eyes shut, earning a surprising giggle from the man. It was a sweet sound– regardless of how weak. It was... simple. It was warm."See? All better... Good night, Gruse."Another giggle. Henrik never really liked the nickname, but... was it not another show of love? He simply pulled the sheets tighter.The night went almost completely undisturbed.