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As Nigel tore through the manicured streets of Bakersfield, sneakers pounding on the sidewalk, he could hear the faint wail of police sirens somewhere behind him. He threw a glance over his shoulder, spotting the swirl of red and blue lights bouncing off the quaint picket fences of the neighborhood. "Well, this escalated quickly," he muttered, clutching his stomach as he ran. Smoking a pack a day wasn’t really ideal when you run from the police like twice a week. A few hours ago, he was having dinner at this girl’s place with the promise of a decent fucking meal and a blowjob. He should’ve known better. She introduced him to her fucking racist parents; who even does that?! At the third comment about him being Romanian and at the third slur thrown around, Nigel decided to excuse himself, and he went straight to the garage, where he took a half-full gas tank and sprinkled that shit all over Mrs. Stirling's prized flowerbed, a collection of pink geraniums and marigolds she babied as though they were her own children. Nigel made sure that the entire family saw him through the window, then he lit himself a cigarette, took a long drag, and then let it fall on the grass. He hadn’t expected the flowers to ignite so easily, as he hadn’t expected the crazy ass old man to call the fucking cops. Now here he was, darting through backyards, hurdling garden gnomes, and disturbing the local squirrel population in his attempt to flee. He skidded to a stop by a hedge, breathing hard. Just ahead was Mrs. Ruggles’ garden—a floral fortress, with stone cherubs and rose bushes so thick they practically formed a maze. He’d often admired this garden in passing but had never dared to venture in. Today, though, desperate times called for desperate hiding places. Without a second thought, he dove into the rosebushes, wincing as thorns snagged his shirt and pricked his arms. He squirmed, tangled among the thorny stems, managing to wedge himself between two particularly grumpy-looking cherub statues. One of the cherub statues had a chipped nose, suggesting it had encountered numerous intruders. The sirens grew louder, and Nigel held his breath as the cop car rolled slowly down the street, its headlights sweeping the gardens around him. “Just play it cool, Nigel. You're just a shrub now, totally part of nature,” he whispered to himself, lying as still as possible and giving his best impression of garden decor. The car moved past. Nigel scrambled to his feet, tripping over his own shoes as he launched himself out of the rosebushes. The cop car screeched to a halt a few feet away, and an officer emerged, raising a hand. "You, stop!" With absolutely zero plan, Nigel glanced left, then right, and he bolted towards the small alley and climbed the emergency stairs of a shabby apartment complex. He sat down, making sure he was hidden enough. Surprise, surprise, he wasn’t. While he was climbing up, he didn’t notice the boy who was sitting on the other side of the alley, but the boy surely saw him. Nigel pointed his eyes at him, and with a finger on his mouth, he signaled him to shut the fuck up. The boy continued to stare in his direction, looking away only when a fucking cop showed up out of breath with a sheet of paper in his hand. “Have you seen a man that looks like this?” he heard the cop say. The boy shook his head, and a sensation of relief came over him. The cop resigned and left, leaving the paper in the hands of the boy, who looked back in his direction. Nigel went down the shaky emergency stairs, and with a determined step, he marched towards the boy, who looked away immediately and fixed his eyes on the ground in front of him. Nigel waited a few seconds, and with a sigh, he lit a cigarette. He was waiting for the boy to speak to him, and he was halfway through his cigarette when he said, “You look different.” “What?” "Here—and he pointed at the flyer—your hair was shorter,” he smiled briefly. “But I think you’re prettier now.” Uh. Prettier, he said. What a curious choice of adjectives to describe him. Nigel stared at him for a while. “So, what’s your name, gorgeous?” “Oh, sorry, you’re right. I’m Adam Raki; nice to meet you,” and he extended his hand towards Nigel, who took it after a second of hesitation. “Nigel,” he responded. “So, where do you work? At the library?” he asked, pointing at the building with his head. “No.” Pause. Then he spoke again, this time his words faster and almost frantic: “I work in the electronics section of the toy company.” “What are you doin’ out here? Are you on break or something?” Adam started rocking on his feet, back and forth. “Mr. Maguire let me go,” he let out. “He fired you?” he asked, his voice way too loud. “Well, he said that I don't understand the need to reduce costs in the products as opposed to making the best product I can. I guess he’ll produce his own toys from now on.” Adam’s face was completely void of any emotion while he recalled what was told to him. Nigel was speechless; what a bullshit reason for firing someone. “That’s what he fucking told you?” "Uh-uh,” replied Adam, still rocking on his feet. Nigel shook his head. Fuck Mr. Maguire, fuck the toy company, and fuck, why was he so worked up over a stranger? The voices in Nigel’s head chose not to answer him. He took a long look at the boy in front of him. His dark curls covered his forehead; the eyes that kept avoiding eye contact were blue. Dressed with various shades of blue and a carabiner to the belt with attached a keychain in the shape of a planet. At his feet a box with his personal effects. “Look, you got someplace around here we can go?” Nigel asked; he was running from the cops, after all. Adam took a sharp breath, but then he nodded. He collected his things from the floor and started walking. Nigel took the box from the boy’s arms. What a strange kid, he thought, following him nonetheless.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Nigel recalled the day he learned how odd his side job could be. He'd slipped into his friend Darko’s flat, a small, tight space that usually smelled faintly of sweat and yesterday's coffee.
He smiled when he saw Frank and Nico, who were having a great time putting together Darko’s new Ikea chair. They were having a great time until they spotted him.
"Motherfucker!" Nico looked up with an excited grin. "I see you've brought the party favors."
"Party favors," Nigel snorted, tossing the baggie upon the table. "Right, because party favors always come in small plastic bags that say not for resale."
Frank perked up and dropped the screwdriver he'd been holding. "Darko said we could pay you in Ikea chairs, but we're not even sure we have all of them here. There's a whole bag of screws included, but they look like spare components.”
Nico hovered over the bag on the table, disregarding the mess of screws and half-assembled furniture behind him. "So, what is this time? Did you bring the 'chill-out blend' or the one that makes your mind feel like a disco ball?"
Nigel rolled his eyes, pulling a single joint, complimentary, and four little plastic bags with white powder in them from his jacket pocket and holding it up as a trophy. “Both,” he said with a grin. The two idiots there began clapping hands.
“Dude, you’re too good to us,” replied Frank, almost emotionally. “How much?”
“The usual, but thank Darko for—and he motioned at the fucked up furniture on the floor with his head—those,” an incredulous laugh.
Nico threw a piece of the chair at him. "Laugh it up, fucker! It's almost modern art at this point. This is more complicated than, I don’t know, astrophysics.”
“When is your next gig, Ni? You know we wouldn’t miss it,” said Frank.
“Ask that fucker of your boss, why the fuck is he never here?” Nigel replied, voice loud now.
“Uhm, you know how he is, all business and shit, he will call you,” Nico said from the floor. "Eventually,” he finished.
Now, how the
fuck
is it possible that someone like Nigel, freshly escaped from the police and who plays in an anarcho-punk band, finds himself in a living room made of pastel shades of blue and astronomical maps hanging on every wall, while sipping apple juice from a fucking juice box? No more familiar smell of sweat, but the delicate smell of fucking green tea.
“Damn,” he whistled while looking around. “An astronaut must have vomited on your walls.”
Adam looked confused for a second. “Nigel, I have never invited an astronaut into my house, and also, why would they vomit on the walls?”
Nigel didn’t answer. “Uhm, yeah, so, do you live with your parents or something?”
Adam shook his head. “I never met my mom, and my father died three months ago,” he replied, his voice flat as if he were talking about the weather.
“Fuck, that sucks” is all Nigel could say.
Good job, Nigel
, his head told him,
that answer was shit.
“Uhm, you can leave your backpack in here, I guess,” Adam said, beginning once again to walk unprompted. Nigel went after him up the stairs and then through a door that led to his bedroom. And damn. Knicknacks everywhere, stars everywhere, but only one thing caught Nigel’s eye: a fucking
Saving Q
’s poster.
“Where did you fucking get that?” He sat on the boy’s bed.
“Oh, I love
Saving Q
; I saw them live once, and they were selling it, so I bought it,” Adam replied, swaying his arms around him.
“What the fuck do you know about
Saving Q
?” And Nigel thought that would be impossible; how could a guy like Adam go out of his way and go see them live?
“Quite a lot, I guess—he was smiling wide now, his eyes bright in excitement—I love their songs, and I think Q is really talented, really beautiful,” he paused for a second, his cheeks turning red. "AndISendQLoveLettersEverySingleWeek,” he spat out in one breath, his face still red and his arms still swaying.
What?!
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I just told you that; I never told anybody,” he said, but Nigel stopped listening, focusing on not combusting into flames and focusing on looking around the room. The Polaroid, the blue and green boxers that could be glimpsed in the basket of clean clothes, the fucking blue envelopes with stars on them. Oh no, he thought. The presence of the letters he carried in his backpack was pinching him from the inside; his breath grew shorter, and he stood up hastily. “Where is the fucking bathroom?” and in a second, he locked the door behind him and picked up the letters from the backpack.
There’s no way, he told himself, absolutely no way. But there he fucking was, a Polaroid of a lean stomach and pretty skin, full and bitten lips open in a moan, blue and green boxers, and a hand shoved in them.
“Holy fucking shit,” he whispered. His admirer was Adam fucking Raki.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Nigel had tried to keep his cool by looking at the poster on the wall in Adam’s room because it must have been some kind of hallucination that he saw the name of his group next to those Megasoap dickheads, a band that had sold itself for a few dollars and who believed themselves the new Anti-Flag. It was obviously a hallucination; none of his group had such a lack of neurons that he wanted to open for the Megasoap. In no time, Nigel dialed Darko’s number, waiting for him to answer his call. "What the fuck, Ni?" He heard the voice of practically his brother on the other end of the phone. "Get the rest of the group, and meet me at Lou’s in five fucking minutes." And he hung up. Nigel looked around and decided that going out the front door would be too easy and might as well complicate his life by getting out of the small window in Adam’s bathroom, then start running towards Lou’s. He saw the group through the diner's window, opened the door wide, and marched to the table occupied by the group. "Now, tell me who the fuck had this idea and why I didn’t know anything about it," Nigel barked, holding his phone with the event flyer. Darko stretched his neck and pointed to Seth. "It was him," he said. Nigel thought that eventually, a bass player would not need all the teeth, so he rushed to Seth but was held back by Darko. "Hey, hey, you pricks! If you don't calm the fuck down, I'll call the cops," shouted Lou. "Shove it up your ass, Lou! You're always about to call the fucking cops," shouted back the Romanian. "I'm serious! You order something or take a fucking hike!" I'm surrounded by fucking idiots, Nigel thought to himself. "Then I demand a cup of coffee!" "You cheap fuck, it's always just a coffee," he heard Lou say, but he decided not to respond. He took a seat next to Darko, took a breath, and started screaming again. "Megasoap? You assholes wanna play eyeliner punk for fucking teenagers?” “Fuck you, man — said Morgan — someone’s gonna call the shot when here no one cares about the future of the band!” "How dare you say I don’t care about the future of the band when the money I make is all in this fucking project?!” “So you got the money?” And Nigel was really close to exploding because, of course, he didn’t have the money; he was fucking wanted by the police for god’s sake; all he had left was the little he made dealing drugs, but he was just waiting for things to calm down. “I don’t wanna fucking talk about it,” he replied through his teeth. “You junkie fuck! You spent it on dope!” Maybe Morgan didn’t need all his teeth as well. “You better shut the fuck up; you don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Nigel, fist tight on the table, ready, just in case. “You're a load of shit, Morgan! In the last four months, you've kicked in, what, 50 bucks?” “Fuck you!” “Fuck all of you! I'm the one floating this whole operation. Do you know how much blood I need to give to the fuckin' vampires at the lab just to get our masters out? We still gotta do the jackets and press the fuckin' vinyl. That's another three grand that you won’t fucking kick in!” Nigel felt hot; his face flushed and his voice coarse for all the screaming. “Look, Steve Bates called me last week, — said Seth. — He wants us to play this gig with Megasoaps, okay? See if we're a good fit. If the band likes us, we're in for the last leg of the tour.” Nigel couldn’t fucking believe what he just heard. “Steve Bates? The Rich Evil Man? Are you fucking kidding me?” “He thinks we can go places.” “Go places? We're not fuckin' sailors, and you can go fuck yourselves! We're a punk rock band; are you fucking stupid? — and he paused to take a breath. — Look, you guys want to play puppet show on Bates' little tour; go right ahead, but leave me the fuck out of it.” “Darko,” called Morgan after a moment of silence, “do you wanna play the gig?” Darko looked at the two guys in front of him. “Are you fucking dumb?” he just said, without an emotion in his voice, but putting his arm around Nigel’s shoulders. Seth and Morgan seemed to be having an aneurysm. Good, he thought. They left the table and went out of the diner. “I’ll call you this weekend for our usual gig,” Nigel said. “Hey, the heat came by the lockout again," he heard Morgan say. "They have a real hard-on for you, man." "Yeah? What did you tell them, Morgan?” "Same old, same old. We only know you as Q. We told them you quit, but they didn't believe us. Nigel, you're in deep shit.” "At least they don't have your real name." Wow, what a consolation! "Yeah, except now they're on to me." "How do you know?" "Check this out, — he pulled out the police sketch. — They upped the reward.” Darko let out a loud laugh, “5,000 bucks? Damn, frate!”
And Nigel smiled at him, “They've been using this crummy sketch for two years. And there was an unmarked squad car following every fucking step I took, that's how I know, which means somebody fucking narced." He spoke through his teeth, lighting a cigarette. “Don’t be paranoid.” “I’m fucking not! I don't trust any of you pieces of shit right now,” he shouted. “C’mon, don’t be a dick. Do you need a new place to crash?” asked Seth. “Not with you assholes.” “You want the keys to the van then?” “No. I'm set,” he replied, final. “You're sure?” And it was Darko who asked. Nigel smiled, thinking of Adam and how he let him crush his place even if he was a fucking stranger. “Man, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you.” Nigel returned to Adam, entering through the window he had left open. The bathroom light was still on, the door locked and a sheet of paper tucked under the door. Nigel, it’s Adam. If you’re having stomach problems there’s toilet paper in the cabinet under the sink, it said. He smiled, and then opened the door, making sure not to make too much noise. He tiptoed inside Adam's room, the door ajar. Nigel opened it to see Adam in bed, blue blankets covering his body up to the waist, and his pajamas' wide shirt revealing a strip of skin just above the waistband. Nigel stood for a few seconds, watching the boy. The chilly light coming from the window painted his face blue and his curls pitch black. Nigel considered what it would be like to run his hands through his hair before shaking his head before setting his belongings on the floor. He pulled off his shoes and spotted the blankets and pillows Adam had placed for him on the floor. He smiled and went to sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The sunlight shone on Adam's sleeping face. He yawned and stirred before waking up and gazing about with half-closed eyes. It was morning again, but he shouldn't have been preparing for work, preparing lunch, and riding the usual bus on which he was teased every morning by old high school classmates who kept calling him slow and other things he didn't want to think about, despite having graduated with honors. Puffing and fully opening his eyes, he turned around to see Nigel, still asleep, with blankets and untidy hair. He smiled, relieved that he had overcome what Adam thought were stomach problems. The clock read 8:15 AM. Sitting on the bed, he considered how much free time he had that day, and a palpable sense of unease settled in his stomach. He decided not to think about his lack of routine and to let Nigel sleep. When he got up, he took off his shirt and pajamas, took some clean ones and went to wash up. Looking in the mirror, wet hair and a towel around his waist, he thought about what to do. Breakfast, meds and finding a new job . The clock read 8:45 AM. Time passed too slowly, and Adam began to feel uneasy again. He generally knew what time it was based on what he was doing: at 8:43 AM he'd sit on the bus, at 9:00 AM he'd dial in and sit at his desk, at 1:00 PM he'd eat lunch, and at 2:00 PM he'd come back to work. The return bus was at 5:04 PM, and he would have arrived home at 5:25 PM. However, Adam continued to gaze at the clock. Shaking off the awful feeling, he opened the cupboard to retrieve his usual bowl and cup. He paused for a second. Will Nigel be hungry when he wakes up? What does he normally have for breakfast? Does he prefer tea or coffee? So he made both coffee and tea, and took all he believed to be Breakfast Food out of the pantry. Obviously, Adam would have eaten his usual hot tea with a drop of milk and a teaspoon of sugar, along with his usual cereals. He began searching for job opportunities on the Internet. Adam knew he was a highly qualified candidate for any position in computer and electronics engineering, but all he could think about was how his old boss had fired him. With a grimace, he continued to scroll through the page: looking for a salesman, a cashier, a secretary, anything but a position that wouldn't drive Adam insane. He was reading the third page of jobs when he heard his bedroom door open, and steps approaching him. The clock read 9:47 AM. “Hey,” said Nigel entering the kitchen and rubbing his eyes. “Hi, did you sleep well?” “I did. Thanks for the blankets,” he replied before looking around. Adam was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop in front of him. “Uhm, I made breakfast. I don’t know what you like, so I made coffee and tea, and there’s cereal, some cookies, and fruit.” His eyes were glued to the table and a rose color went straight to his cheeks. Nigel smiled. “Thanks, gorgeous,” he said, going for the coffee. The mug Adam had chosen for him was bright green. “What are you doing?” he asked after observing the boy for a little, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’m looking for The Job, now that I lost my old one.” “The Job? — he asked, approaching Adam and stopping behind him, his back bent to the computer screen, their faces close. — Let me see.” “I saved the goodish ones and the maybe-good ones,” pointed Adam with the cursor. “Bag boy ? Dishwasher ? Cashier at Walmart ? Adam, they’re all shit. For god’s sake, you’re a fucking electronic engineer!” “Yeah, I know. But nobody is gonna hire me with the autism thing; my dad and Harlan, his best friend, helped me get my old job because they knew Mr Maguire,- he frowned. - But Harlan said that maybe I could work my way up with this kind of job.” Nigel was not having it. “That's so fuckin' bleak, it's makin' me lightheaded,” he said finishing his coffee and putting his mug in the sink. He opened the kitchen window and lit a cigarette, seated on the kitchen counter. Adam looked at him, but didn’t say anything; at least he was smoking out of the window. “You got any scratch?” “Huh?” replied Adam, confused. “Money?” said Nigel blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Nope. Mr Maguire still owes me for two weeks.” “That motherfucker never cut you a check after he fired you?” and he seemed irritated. “Mm-mm.” Nigel killed the cigarette under the tap. “Well, we're gonna pay him a little visit today. And then afterwards, I'm gonna let you buy me lunch.” And Adam thought that was fair, so he nodded. “Hey, Nigel?” “Mh?” “Can we shoot hoops first?” said Adam, totally out of the blue, like he just remembered having a basketball and a hoop. But he was smiling, and Nigel was starting to understand that, when Adam smiled, he couldn't say no to him. And that’s how Nigel found himself in the backyard, sun in his eyes while looking at an uncoordinated Adam attempting to shoot the ball right. What even was his life at this point, he asked himself. But watching Adam wasn’t so bad, after all. And thank god nobody could read his mind. He tested this out by calling for Adam in his mind. The boy was oblivious. Good. It was his turn, and the ball went straight through the hoop. Adam was smiling at him. “You're good at basketball! What do you say we play H-O-R-S-E?” And Nigel could not resist. “What do you say we play F-U-C-K instead?” he replied, smirking. Adam ignored him, continuing to bounce the ball on the floor. Uh. “How come you clam up when I talk about fuckin'? You ever made it with someone?” And Adam looked at him, before ignoring him again, passing him the ball. “Your turn,” he said. “All right, how 'bout this? If I make this shot, then you give me a kiss, - Adam turned to him, doubt painted on his expression. - A tongue kiss.” “OK.” He said OK? Nigel didn’t expect that, damn. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” So Nigel prepared to shoot. Confident, tasting victory on his tongue, he shot, missing impossibly bad. "Well, shit," he said. Adam looked at him laughing, and it was a small victory nonetheless.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
That morning had begun well; they had breakfast, and Nigel came up with a plan to make Mr. Maguire piss himself for not paying Adam what he owed, with Adam even buying him lunch later. Nice day, one might say, if he hadn't found himself sitting at the bus stop, his knuckles broken and his nose bleeding, with Adam trying to stop the bleeding by keeping a handkerchief under his nose and then wiping Nigel's now purple knuckles with water from his water bottle. Nigel looked up at Adam. The boy did not look him in the face; his expression wrinkled and focused on his hands. Nigel remained silent. "Nigel?" said Adam after cleaning his hands completely. "Yes, gorgeous?" "Thank you for, you know, defending me," he finally said in a low voice. And to be honest, Nigel would have killed those pieces of shit if there was not Adam next to him. They had taken the bus that morning, and as soon as they got on, two assholes came up to me, pointing at Adam. “Hey, fag,” they said. Strike one. Adam ignored them as if it were routine, and this thing was making his hands itch. "Hey, we’re talking to you, dumbass." “And he doesn’t wanna talk to you, so go fuck yourselves,” replied Nigel, his fists closed. “Oh my God, the retard got himself a boyfriend,” said one of the wastes of space. Strike two and three! As Adam shook his head at the boyfriend statement, Nigel replied loudly and clearly, “Yes,” standing up from his seat. “Don't call him a retard.” His voice was low and rough. But these idiots didn’t know the definition of self-preservation, so they kept on yapping. “Can you believe this fag?” said one to the other. “Yeah, he's got a faggot mouth on him, too.” Nigel looked at them from head to toe, “That's an awful lot of faggot talk comin' from two guys with matching tees and jeans so tight that you can see the fucking plug you have up your asses.” Adam requested the stop with a nervous movement. “Are you fucking with us?” “Oh, I’m sure you would like that, don’t you?” replied Nigel, reaching out an arm behind him to be able to take Adam’s hand, and he threw his free hand right on that motherfucker’s nose. The bus was slowing down and he was ready to take Adam out of there, but again, self-preservation was an unknown concept for them, and he got a punch in his face. A weak-ass punch, to which he replied with a not-so-weak punch to the both of them, sending them straight down on their asses, noses bleeding a lot. “You ever call him a retard again, and I’m gonna haunt you for the rest of your fuckin' life,” he said with a smile, before taking Adam and jumping off the damn bus. And that’s how they found themselves on that bench, hand in hand. Nigel raised his voice before getting up and facing Adam, who was still seated. “C’mon, let’s pay Mr Maguire a little visit,” he said, taking Adam’s hand. The door of the toy company opened in front of them. At the entrance, behind a counter, a girl was typing on the computer. "Welcome to Maguire & Co., how can I help you?" she said in a flat, unexciting voice without raising her eyes. Nigel was about to have a nervous breakdown. “Listen, uhm, Jennifer,” he said, reading her name tag. “We need to talk to Mr Maguire, stat.” And at that, she looked at them. “Oh! Hi, Adam! I thought I wouldn’t see you so soon.” At that, Adam stiffened, and without looking, Nigel hooked his pinky finger between the tight fist Adam was making. “Shut up and call your supervisor, or I'll come behind this fucking counter and call him myself, and you really don’t want me to call him, trust me" And Jennifer called. “H-he said he’s in a meeting” she replied, visibly scared. “Adam, gorgeous, do you know where your boss' office is?" asked Nigel in a low voice. Adam nodded, holding his hand and running to the elevator. Jennifer in the background was screaming useless shit like you can’t do that, you’re not authorized and other things that would not scare anyone, certainly not Nigel. Adam pushed the 8th button, without letting go of his hand. Nigel decided that he didn’t care. He quickly led them to a closed door but stopped in front of it. Nigel kicked it open. Inside the small office, Nigel saw the waste of space that was Mr Maguire, terrified. His eyes moved quickly from Nigel to Adam, and then he snorted, he fucking snorted! “What are you doing here?” he heard Adam say. He was looking at a guy seated at his desk. “What are you even doing on PowerPoint?” he continued, raising his voice. Mr Maguire ran towards them. “Mr Maguire, what… what is he doing here? You said that I didn’t understand the need to reduce the costs of the products as opposed to making the best product I could. And that you didn’t need me because there were enough employees in this department. What is he doing here and why is he using PowerPoint?” Mr Maguire became red, he was caught and he was a fucking liar. “Look, Adam, you're a nice enough kid and all, but let's face it, if it wasn’t for your father and Harlan I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place. You were too busy making what you thought was the best product for your standards, not the company’s,” he continued explaining. “And after all that bullshit you told him, you hire a fucking nutjob who apparently uses PowerPoint when he’s not supposed to?” “What could possibly be the function of PowerPoint in an electronic engineering department?” asked Adam. “Where's his fuckin' check?” intervened Nigel. “I am a good engineer, Mr Maguire, and I know how to do a better job than everyone in this department, even better than you! And especially him!” And he pointed at PowerPoint guy. “Where's the goddamn paycheck?” “I told Adam I'd put it in the mail at the end of the week.” “It is the end of the fucking week!” shouted Nigel. “I want my fucking check!” And God, Adam's cursing wasn’t supposed to have that effect on Nigel. The elevator pinged when they reached the ground floor. Nigel was smiling and Adam was holding his check. The doors opened just as the cops entered the building.
Fuck you, Jennifer.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Adam had surprisingly good reflexes. He grabbed Nigel by the elbow just as the man was noticing the cops, pulled him back into the elevator, and continuously pressed the button to close the doors. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” was all Nigel could say at that moment. He had managed to avoid the cops for two days, and now they were in their same fucking building. Adam had his eyes wide open and kept holding Nigel by the elbow as if he were afraid they would take him away. "Okay, okay, no panic," he said; unfortunately, the panic was very present in his voice. Nigel could not help but observe him, because he had no idea what to do. Adam looked around, moving his fingers as if he were typing on an invisible keyboard, then pressed the 10th button. "Nigel, I won’t let the police take you away; please trust me." The thing was, Nigel trusted Adam. And he couldn’t explain how a man like him, suspicious since his mother had given birth to him, could trust so much someone he’d known very little. He decided to not think about it. "Of course I do, gorgeous." And that made Adam sigh with relief. "Okay, we’re going to the roof. There’s never anyone, and I know how to lock the door. We can get down the security stairs, which, according to where we saw the cops, are on the other side." The elevator ping made them jump, but Adam did not waste time and took back Nigel’s hand and started running down the corridor lit only by emergency lights that led to a door. Adam opened it, and they found themselves on the roof of the toy company. Nigel, seeing the whole neighborhood from above, understood exactly what to do. He took his cell phone and dialed Nico’s number, who answered on the second ring. "Frate, I’ll give you everything I have with me right now if you bring me the van under the toy company as fast as you can. Leave it on and with the keys in." "I’ll be right there, frate," and hung up. Adam let go of Nigel’s hand and decided to lean over the railing. "Oh, what the fuck are you doing? Come back here; I don’t want you to fall; it’s dangerous," said Nigel, surprisingly worried. "I’m just checking how many patrols there are and where they are, so we can avoid them." Nigel, his forehead wrinkled, nodded. After a few seconds, a very loud whistle was heard, and Nigel could have recognized the sound anywhere: who knows how long it had been since the last visit to the mechanic of that fucking truck? And thank God Nico was smart enough to avoid the patrols and hide the van in a not-so-suspicious corner near the building. "Adam, let’s go down, quick," he said to the boy, who nodded vehemently and picked him up by the hand to come down the stairs as snugly and quickly as possible. Ten shaky flights of stairs later, the two ran to the blue van. Nigel searched for his goods in every pocket he had, and as soon as he was close enough to Nico, they exchanged a handshake that closed all of Nigel’s goods, and Nico went on his way. Adam was the first to get into the van, sitting on the passenger side; Nigel was right behind him, getting behind the wheel and accelerating in the opposite direction of the damn toy company. The tires screeched loudly, and Nigel let out a scream to ease the tension, “Buckle up! I’m Romanian, and I drive fuckin' nuts!” Adam had to agree, but he was smiling anyway. “It feels like we're on TV!” “Man, fuck TV! That was some raw-ass shit!” replied Nigel, all serious until he heard Adam laugh, then he smiled wide. “Welcome to Sauce Boss. What can I get you?” “Don’t you dare ask for the Hawaiian, because I swear to God, Adam.” “Nigel, I hate pineapple; I wanted the extra cheese.” “So, we’ll get two extra cheese and two Diet Cokes,” Nigel said to the cashier. “Do you want some of my fries?” Adam asked the man. “Yeah, sure," he replied. “And a portion of fries, please.” Adam, true to his word, paid, with a big grin across his lips. “So, is this, like, a date? “Mh?” “Are we on a date?” repeated Adam. “No, this is a shitty lunch. Besides, I thought you were in love with Q,” Nigel said, still trying to understand if his secret admirer was really Adam. “Yeah, but he's not real. He's just my music boyfriend.” Well, that wasn’t enough for Nigel. “I'm gonna take you to see Saving Q tomorrow night. You're gonna see your music boyfriend.” “Well, is that a date?” asked Adam, not looking at Nigel. He was moving his fingers again. “Yeah, it's a date,” he said, biting into a slice of pizza. They were back in the truck, bellies full of food, and no cops in sight. “Hey, Adam?” “Yes, Nigel?” “Do you wanna go to the fair?” The boy’s big smile was a satisfying answer. Nigel thought it would be nice to take Adam to the fair. It would be a quiet evening, and he would win a stuffed animal. They would eat those too-sweet sweets. He was so fucking wrong. Apparently, Adam loved the adrenaline rides, those crazy ones that take you to the top and leave you upside down, those that go too fast and make you feel that very bad feeling of emptiness in your stomach. Adam loved them. Nigel couldn’t exactly say the same. "Nigel, Nigel! Will you go with me on that?" asked Adam with his eyes shining with excitement. That was a ride Nigel would have avoided like the plague: a fucking yellow metal structure in the form of a mechanical arm, which swung at an alarming speed. Nigel swallowed noisily. "Um, are you sure you want to get on that thing? Did you see how high it goes?" "Yes, Nigel, that’s the beauty of it. But if you’re afraid, can you wait here for me? Could you hold my things?" He answered nonchalantly, giving Nigel his wallet and the keys in his pocket. "W-who said I’m afraid? Come on, let’s do this shit," exclaimed Nigel in a voice that was not quite believable. Adam smiled at him, knowing he would give in one way or another. He took his hand and began to move quickly towards the ride. Adam paid for the tickets and, without looking back and without letting go of Nigel’s hand, climbed up to the seat, immediately starting to swing his legs back and forth. Nigel sat beside him, his heart beating too fast and the sweat starting to form on his neck. Okay, he was afraid of these things, so what? He would never admit it out loud, but from the way Adam’s hand had never let go of his, and the way his thumb was caressing the back of his hand, Adam had definitely sensed something. A boy who could not be more than 16 approached them, picked up the tickets, and closed the over-the-shoulder restraint on them. Well, now Nigel was locked, literally caged in that hellish piece of crap of a ride. He turned his head, looking at Adam, who was already smiling at him. "Thank you for coming up with me, Nigel," he said softly. Nigel could only nod because a second later they started moving. If Nigel had believed in a god, he would probably have started praying. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and squeezed the bars that covered his shoulders until his knuckles became completely white. I’m so fucked, and I’m going to throw up so, so, so bad, he thought to himself when he felt the emptiness in his chest and the air that lifted his hair and slapped his face. Nigel’s eyes remained closed for the entire duration of the ride, concentrating only on Adam’s laughter and the cute sounds that he was making. Don’t throw up; you’re punk rock. Don’t fucking throw up; you’re punk rock, he repeated to himself like a mantra. "Nigel," he heard a call. "Nigel, we’re done; you can come down now," Adam said, touching his knee. Nigel opened his eyes wide; he was alive; he was still punk rock. Adam was in front of him, with red cheeks, glowing eyes, and hair all messed up. He was beautiful. Nigel took the hand the boy was holding out to him and held it in his until they touched the floor again. They moved to a corner of the fair not far from the carousel where there were no people around. They were facing each other; Adam was looking at him with a huge smile on his face. "So, what do you think? Did you like it?" asked the boy. "Absolutely not, I will never ride something like that again. I can’t believe you’re a fucking adrenaline junkie," Nigel replied incredulously, stepping forward towards Adam, who raised his head slightly to keep looking at Nigel. The sun was setting, and the golden light of the sun kissed the boy’s face, and those eyes, so blue and so bright, looked at him. Another step closer. Adam was laughing; the idea of being called an adrenaline junkie by Nigel was very funny, after all. Another tiny step, Adam’s head always slightly up towards Nigel’s face. "Your hair is fucking crazy," said Nigel softly, bringing his hands into Adam’s dark curls trying to fix it, but it was out of control. He laid his hands on the boy’s neck, playing with his curls. Looking down, he saw Adam’s eyes wide open, his cheeks red. " Nigel?" "Mh?" "You can kiss me now, you know. Even if you missed your shot this morning." There was a brief moment of stasis, in which both stared at each other’s lips. Nigel cupped Adam’s cheeks, and in a second they were kissing. Adam’s lips, so soft, embraced Nigel’s tongue, and the boy squeezed the collar of Nigel’s shirt between his fingers, trying to get closer and closer, to kiss him a little deeper. It was not a soft kiss; when they broke off to catch their breath, their lips were red and plump, and at that moment, Nigel noticed two old men staring at them. "Mind your fucking business, or I swear to God you will never see a construction site again in your life," barked Nigel, his body still pressed against Adam, who was laughing. And without even having time to react, Nigel's lips were back on his. "You’re a great kisser,” the man whispered. “I'm surprised." "Well, that’s good. All that practice with Harlan has done some good then," said Adam. "What the fuck did you just say?" Adam smiled, moving his face closer to Nigel’s. "I'm fucking with you.".
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
In the end, Nigel managed to win a giant teddy bear for Adam: he shot the little tin men with his fake rifle, and when the carny asked Adam what plushie he wanted, he stood behind his boy. The carny was about to say no to him, but he looked up, meeting Nigel’s murderous eyes. Nigel, without missing a beat and without looking away, drew a line on his neck with his thumb, and Adam got his giant teddy bear.
On the way back to the truck, Adam was all big smiles and giggles. Nigel couldn’t stop looking at him: his eyes bright and a smile stretched on the little white stick of the blue lollipop he had in his mouth. Nigel tugged at it and put it in his mouth. It was almost illegally sweet, but it tasted like Adam, who looked at him with his rosy cheeks and blue-colored lips and tongue. Nigel opened the door for him, and when he entered the truck, he sighed in contempt. He hadn’t felt this light, this happy, in a long time.
He drove holding Adam’s hand.
“So much for job hunting, huh?” said Adam, taking the lollipop from Nigel’s mouth and putting it in his.
Nigel chuckled. “Fuck job hunting, gorgeous. I'll drive you around tomorrow in the truck.”
Laughing, Adam turned up the volume of the radio.
I text a postcard sent to you
Did it go through?
Sendin' all my love to you
You are the moonlight of my life
Every night
Givin' all my love to you
My beatin' heart belongs to you.
Nigel recognized the song almost immediately, mouthing the lyrics, feeling hot in the face. Adam squeezed his hand, then stroked his cracked knuckles.
The song came to an end as they parked near Adam’s house.
“Hey, Nigel?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for, like, the best day ever.” And then he cupped Nigel’s face and kissed him gently. Nigel wanted it again and again and again; he wanted it forever if he could have it, if he could have Adam.
They got in the house, and Nigel couldn’t take his hands off Adam. He closed the front door and pressed his boy against it, keeping on kissing him, never wanting to stop. The kiss and their hands grew hungrier and hungrier, their lips swollen and their tongues blue. Without hesitation, Nigel took Adam in his arms, making him tie his legs around his hips. And Adam’s laughter was music. Nigel kissed his smile as he walked swiftly to Adam’s room. He managed to put the boy on the mattress and look at his face. His lips were swollen and also colored with a light blue tint. And just as he was about to kiss them again, they were interrupted by the loud ringing of Nigel’s cell phone. The sound of immense frustration Nigel let out made Adam smile. Nigel just wanted to annihilate whoever was calling him.
“What you’re about to say better be important, or I swear by God you will die at my hand,” he said.
“Damn, okay, Jesus. The lockout is ready and empty if you want, ciao.”
With that said, Nigel dropped his phone on the bed, above Adam’s head. Looking the boy in the eyes made him make The Decision. He was gonna tell Adam that he was Q.
“Are they gonna die, Nigel?” asked Adam with a smile. He let out a laugh.
“No, gorgeous, they’re safe. For now — and he kissed him again. —
So, I was thinking about something,” he continued.
“What is it?”
“Would you like to come to my studio? Then tomorrow we’re going to see Saving Q.”
“Oh, sure, Nigel! I’d like that,” replied Adam, smiling.
Nigel got up and gave his hand to Adam. “C’mon, then.”
“Holy smokes, a real trap set. Can I play it?” asked Adam, once they settled their stuff in the cramped room. Fuck, he’s adorable was all his mind could formulate.
“Knock yourself out,” he said at the end. He watched Adam sitting down, grabbing the drumsticks, and fucking the drums up. He wasn’t coordinated, and he was quite a mess, but Nigel’s heart was doing fucking backflips. After a little while, Adam breathed heavily, but he smiled.
“You suck at drums.” Good job, Nigel, he said to himself.
“Yeah, I'm more of a writer, I suppose.”
“You write, huh? Like what?”
“Oh, like, just, like, little stories I hear in my head, — and he looked away. — Hey, whose equipment is all this?”
“It’s mine.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hm.”
Adam was speechless. “You could play all these?” And in that moment Nigel knew he was totally gone.
“Come here,” he whispered. “I want to tell you something.”
Adam moved fast, and he was in front of Nigel, sitting on the old and used armchair. Nigel took him by the hips and made him sit on his legs.
“All right, listen,” and Nigel was about to die; he could feel it. “I'm Q.”
“What?”
“I'm Q. From Saving Q.”
Adam looked at him, confused as hell. “You're not Q. Nobody knows who Q is.”
Nigel caressed Adam's lower back lightly. “Don't you think that maybe Q knows who Q is?” he asked, and it made Adam laugh.
“Close your eyes,” he told the boy, unzipping his backpack. He felt Adam’s eyes on him. “Close 'em, gorgeous.” And Adam let out a little laugh.
“OK, open 'em.” He was holding his black ski mask.
“Big deal,” said Adam, a smile still on his lips.
“What?” Adam shook his head. At that moment, Nigel took out of his backpack the letters and the Polaroids of his secret admirer. “You're still not convinced?”
Adam recognized the letters immediately. All the color left his face. “Oh, my God. You are Q.” Nigel nodded, a little amused.
“That's awkward. I get it if you want me to leave. Actually, I think I’m gonna go now,” said Adam in a hurry, getting up from his place on Nigel and creating space between them.
“Baby, where are you going?” Nigel said, taking Adam’s hand and tugging him back to where he was just a moment before. Adam wasn’t looking at him, his cheeks red and his eyes closed. “You have any idea how worked up those Polaroids got me?” whispered Nigel, cupping his boy’s hot cheeks. Adam slowly opened his eyes.
“You call them love letters, but these… These are brilliant power pop songs, and they are gorgeous. I mean, they're fuckin' genius.” Adam looked away again, embarrassed. “Do you have any idea what you're capable of?”
His boy was still not talking, and all Nigel wanted was to hear his lovely voice. “Will you say something to me?” he asked gently.
“Nigel?”
“Yes, baby?”
“I think I’m in love with you.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Nigel went quiet. His lungs empty of air, his eyes moist with tears. He looked right into Adam’s eyes. “Say it again,” he said, his voice so, so low. “I love you, Nigel. And not because you’re Q, — he took his ski mask off Nigel’s face. — I was gonna tell you anyway. I am in love with you. For real,” he replied cupping the other’s cheeks and taking his face close to his, they were literally just a breath away. But the stuff that made Nigel’s stomach turn was Adam’s eyes, completely fixated on him. The prettiest and bluest eyes. Nigel was starstrucked. He saw galaxies form in his eyes, star spirals blinked like promises against the velvety expanse. It was more than simply the color; it was the way light twisted and broke, as though the very secrets of life had all been revealed in this one sacred place. Time slowed. He sighed. Cradled by the weight Adam’s eyes carried — the burning stars, the crashing planets, the visions that flashed to life — he felt suspended in a black hole's gravity, not crushed but held. “Nigel? Did I break you?” whispered Adam, his hands still on his face. Nigel’s silence made him grow a little anxious. Had he said the wrong thing? Maybe Nigel didn't — “I love you, Adam. Fuck, I love you so much, you don’t understand what you do to me all the time, baby.” And Adam smiled, caressing his lover’s face gently. And a second later, they were kissing. The kiss was soft at first, trembling with the weight of their shared words, the confessions still warm in the air between them. It was as if those words — fragile, terrifying, beautiful — had carved a space where only they existed, a sanctuary. Then, like a spark-catching flame, the kiss deepened. It wasn’t just lips meeting; it was everything they had held back. It was the sigh of relief after ages of feeling lost and misunderstood, the sensation of a lock finally clicking into place. Their hands sought each other, instinctively grasping, anchoring. The kiss tasted of tears they hadn’t realized they’d shed, salt mingling with the sweetness of their skin. Time unraveled, pulling them into a space where the only thing that mattered was the press of their lips, the warmth of their skin, the raw honesty that bound them together. When they finally parted, their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them, their eyes met.Desire thrummed beneath their skin, a relentless rhythm in time with Adam’s previous performance on the drums. Fingers hovered, then brushed, then lingered, sending shivers cascading through them like ripples over still water. Each touch was a question, each sigh an answer. They moved closer. They could feel the heat of each other as their bodies leaned into one another, hesitant at first, then bold, as if the weight of their longing left no room for fear. There was a sweetness in the urgency, a tenderness in the hunger. All very poetic and romantic, until Adam locked their eyes together once more and said “Fuck me”, his voice trembling a little bit with excitement and arousal. He could feel Nigel's cock through his jeans, and Nigel's hips gave Adam a little nudge as he kissed him, lips gently running down every inch of exposed flesh. "Nigel," Adam whimpered. "You're very hard." Nigel gasped, rubbing against Adam's own erection.He had never looked forward to new experiences until Nigel bulldozed his way into his life. He was unsure, and Nigel noticed. "What do you want, gorgeous?" Adam's stomach flipped, and he struggled to think clearly, so Nigel took him in his arms and pinned his pretty boy down to the soft rug in the middle of the studio, pressing a kiss against his mouth. Holding him down, Nigel smiled against his lips. Adam couldn’t think of anything better until he could: he wanted to feel Nigel inside him. “Fuck me, please,” he repeated with a grin. Adam's hands gripped the rug under him as Nigel's lips, tongue, and fangs moved rapidly down his neck, fingers grabbing his sides. “We need to get you ready first, gorgeous," Nigel smiled against Adam’s lips. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” And Adam really found himself thinking that if Nigel could make filthy words sound so good, he really must be a musician. Nigel turned towards his backpack, pulling out a condom and a single-use packet of lube. “Are you ready, love?” he teased, fingers pulling at his boxer's waistband. And Adam could have screamed, because of course he was ready, he couldn’t stop thinking about Nigel. Naked Nigel. Naked Nigel above him, even better Naked Nigel inside him. But all he could do was frantically nod his head. With a little laugh, Nigel hooked his fingers in Adam’s pants and pulled them down with his boxers. They were the same boxers of the last Polaroid, and he was about to explode. He got the lube on his fingers and ran one over Adam’s exposed hole, making him let out the lewdest and smallest sound. A finger was slowly pushed inside, and Adam was the prettiest creature in the universe, lying under him, his hair a mess, his eyes glossy, and his lips so plump and pink. “How are you, baby?” “Nigel? Could you please make the prepping process a little bit faster? I want you inside as soon as possible, please,” he pleaded, eyes closed and heavy breaths. He sat between his lover's legs, his cock stiff as he worked Adam open, pressing into him and drawing out, gently thrusting in and out. He could feel Adam’s body opening up to him, so he slipped another finger in. Adam cried out. As he stroked his prostate, Adam let out a loud groan. “NigelNigelNigel, please inside, please, please, please!” And how could Nigel say no to him when he sounded and looked like that. Adam’s eyes were closed shut, but as he heard a zipper being pulled down, he opened them and fixed them on his lover. Naked Nigel was smirking as he pulled out his clothes. “Like what you see, baby?” he asked. Adam let out a whimper and nodded once again. The condom was on, and his cock was lubricated. Nigel placed his hands on Adam’s legs and pushed them apart, softly, and lined himself to Adam. He looked at the boy once more, searching for confirmation. And he pushed. Slowly. And like in a jigsaw puzzle, they were two oddly shaped pieces that fit together perfectly. Adam ran a soft hand up and down his back and wrapped his legs around him tighter, pulling him down, and let his muscles clench, hole tightening around Nigel’s cock. Nigel jerked forward and gasped, choking on his breath, before letting out a small whine. “I feel you so much, Nigel,” he muttered against Nigel’s ear. “I can feel you in my bones, in my head, everywhere.” Nigel closed his eyes and moaned loudly, picking up the pace, feeling Adam clenching hard around his cock. Nails buried into Nigel’s back, Adam’s name on his lips as they both fell back on the carpet like sweaty messes. Nigel was lying on Adam, while he held him impossibly close to his rib cage, his legs still wrapped around Nigel’s waist. “I wish I could sample the little sounds you made and write the most fucking perfect song ever, my love,” said Nigel. “Next time, then,” replied Adam, smiling impossibly wide. “Next time, gorgeous.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
If someone asked Nigel what he hated most in the world he would make a list, top 5 in no particular order: cops, paper cuts, Thursdays, slow walkers, and those who don’t fucking knock. They were sat in the armchair, Adam was on his lap and Nigel was having the fucking time of his life, caressing his boy’s back while he played with an old tape. They were at peace until fucking Darko came through the door like a fucking hurricane. “Ce naiba faci? Roagă-te să fie important sau te omor,” said Nigel in Romanian. “Fuck you, it is important, I came here to fucking save your ungrateful ass from the cops” he yelled back in English with a short breath. Uh. The cops. He hadn’t thought about them for a solid day. Well, fuck. Adam’s eyes, now scared and anxious, were fixed on Nigel. “Morgan narced. He’s a fucking rat, and said that with the money from the bounty, he could get the fuck out of the band and start under the Evil Guy from Megasoap.” That bastard was gonna die slowly and painfully, Nigel was gonna make sure of that. “Baby, we need to get out of here, like right now,” he said to Adam, his voice couldn’t hide his panic very well, but the boy wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was thinking about something. “Baby? We need to hurry, please” he said in a low voice. “Nigel?” “Mh?” “I think I have an idea, but you’re not gonna, uhm, enjoy the first part of the plan,” he explained as he got up. “Nigel, who the hell is this guy?” he heard Darko ask. He didn’t look at him, he stared at his boy, pacing nervously through the studio, nibbling on a fingernail. “He’s my boyfriend,” he replied smiling. Suddenly, he wasn’t in such a hurry anymore.
The studio soon became like a fucking headquarter of the C.I.A. Adam sent Darko to his house to get a list of things he wrote on a napkin he found somewhere: he needed his computer, some cables, a pen drive, and other tech shit. Darko looked at Adam like he was an alien, not understanding what a fucking laptop could do to help the situation, but he just went out and got Adam what he asked for. Plus a blue lollipop per Nigel's request.
Adam was now perched in the armchair, the men were giving him space to think and do his stuff. Nigel didn’t know what that was. “So, uh, what are you doing?” Nigel asked, lifting the weird box with knobs and wires sticking out that was on the floor. Adam, hunched over his laptop, didn’t even glance up. “That’s… Nigel, please don’t touch that. It’s, uh, part of the plan.” “Right,” Darko said, nodding like he understood. He didn’t. “Cool. Love a good plan, - continued Nigel. The two bandmates were sitting on the carpet next to each other and looking in Adam’s direction. - So, what’s the plan, gorgeous? Because, not gonna lie, the cops are, like, this close to catching me.” He held his fingers an inch apart for dramatic effect. Adam adjusted his posture and fiddled with a wire, his knee bouncing like it had a mind of its own. “I’ve, uh… yeah. I’ve got a plan. It’s… good. I think.” And Nigel really didn’t want to put extra pressure on his boy because he was clearly anxious and it seemed like he wasn't so sure of himself, but fuck, Adam was keeping them on their fucking toes. But the thing was, he and Darko shared a single functioning brain cell. “So fucking tell us, Adam!” he snapped, like clockwork. Nigel slapped his bald head, making Darko’s eyes bulge, basically saying telepathically What the fuck did I do?. Nigel answered with a single irritated facial expression. Adam hesitated, glancing at the men before him like he was about to break some very delicate news. “Okay, so… step one, - and he looked directly at Nigel for a fleeting moment. - You… you let yourself get arrested.” “Wait, what?” Nigel sat up straight. “Like… arrested arrested? Cuffs and all?” Adam nodded quickly, his voice speeding up as he tried to explain. “Yeah, but only for a little bit! It’s part of the whole… misdirection thing. While they’re processing you, I’ll hack into their system, change your identity, and—” “Wait, wait, wait.” Darko waved his hands. “Hack the system? Like, the police system?” Adam blinked at him. “Yeah? That’s… that’s the plan.” Darko was intimidating, but he could tell he cared a lot about Nigel, so he was cool. Nigel scratched his head, clearly lost. “You can do that? Like, legally?” Adam let out a small laugh, nervous but amused. “Uh, no, not legally. That’s kind of the point.” He looked back down to his laptop. Darko leaned back, eyes narrowing at the pile of wires. “Huh. So, what’s all this, then? It looks like you’re building a spaceship.” Adam rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “It’s tools. For hacking. And for the distraction part.” “Distraction?” Nigel perked up. “Like smoke bombs and stuff?” Adam laughed again, softer this time. “Not exactly. I was thinking more… opening some cell doors, maybe crashing their cameras, throwing the place into chaos.” He paused, biting his lip. “And, uh, maybe blasting something through the entire police station. Haven’t decided yet.” Nigel grinned. “Look at you, a little criminal genius in disguise, and I bet you’re not using PowerPoint to do this shit,” he said, feeling pride and adoration for the boy in front of him, all hunched up and with blue lips from his lollipop. Adam didn't look up, his ears bright red. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he mumbled, but he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping across his face at the mention of PowerPoint. Adam took his lollipop out of his mouth and handed it to Nigel, who took it, grinning once more. “So, wait,” Darko said, looking at the exchange with a not so concealed expression of disgust. “Then what? Nigel gets arrested and he’s supposed to just walk out of the station?” Adam took back the napkin with his list, writing again something on the blank space left. He was drawing a fucking diagram on a napkin. His handwriting was a chaotic mess of arrows and circles. “Let them think they’ve caught you. I’ll take care of the rest.” Darko’s face was more confused than before. Nigel stared at the napkin, squinting like it was written in ancient hieroglyphs. “This is, uh… wow. This is a lot of arrows, Uhm, where do I come in? Besides the getting-arrested part. Which, by the way, I’m still kinda stuck on.” “You just… play along,” said Adam. He looked at the men’s faces, and he just knew they didn’t understand a single thing. With a sigh, he tried to explain everything again using his hands. “You get arrested, I hack the system, and you walk out the back door while everyone’s too busy freaking out to notice.” The men nodded slowly, still not fully grasping it but trusting Adam anyway. “Alright, sounds good. Just one thing—what happens if something goes wrong?” asked Darko. Adam froze for a second, fidgeting with a wire. “It won’t.” “But, like, if it does?” Nigel pressed, leaning forward. Adam sighed, muttering under his breath. “Fine. Backup plan. I cut the power to the whole station. Total blackout. But only if absolutely necessary.” Nigel grinned. “Damn, baby, you really thought of all this in like, a minute and a half?” Adam shrugged, fiddling with the edge of the napkin. “Yeah, well, it’s your neck on the line, Nigel. If you get charged for real, you’ll not be able to make music for a long time, and I’ll not be able to see you for a long time, and that’s something that I want to avoid at all costs.” Nigel stood up and cupped his boyfriend’s face in his hands. “I fucking love you, gorgeous,” he said, kissing him. He could feel Adam relax a bit under his fingers. Darko was looking at the scene. He’d never seen his brother this involved with someone. He was happy for him, like a lot. But then he remembered that the cops were literally at their doorstep. “So, - he cleared his throat. - That’s good and everything, you love each other, we love to see it blah blah blah, but the fucking police is outside as we speak, so we must move ASAP. You can smooch later when all this mess is over.” Adam became red almost immediately, glanced at him, and then quickly looked away. “Yeah, Darko is right, We need to go. And with we I mean you, Nigel.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“It has to be believable,” said Adam.
So there was Nigel, dropped off by Darko outside the convenience store. The police didn’t so much catch Nigel as they did stumble upon him. Which, honestly, made it kind of embarrassing. “Hands where we can see them!” “Oh, come on,” Nigel groaned as two officers rushed toward him, looking too excited about the whole thing. “You guys couldn’t at least chase me a little? Give me a cool outlaw moment?” One of the cops—big guy, bad mustache—grabbed his arm and started pulling out handcuffs. “Nigel Banyai, you are under arrest for arson and—” “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Nigel interrupted, sighing dramatically. “You guys rehearsed this? Feels very scripted.” The mustache guy didn’t laugh. His partner, a younger officer with tired eyes, just shook his head. “Dude. Shut up.” Nigel did not shut up. “Hey, real quick,” he continued as they patted him down, “are the cuffs necessary? I’m not exactly the fight-and-run type.” He paused. “Wait, are they fuzzy? No? Missed opportunity, man.” The mustache guy ignored him and started listing his rights, but Nigel had already tuned out. He was too busy resisting the urge to grin because this was part of the plan. And judging by the fact that he hadn’t immediately been tackled by a SWAT team, Adam was already working his hacker magic. He was having fun. Adam was not having fun. His hands hovered over the keyboard, fingers twitching as he stared at the police database. His stomach felt like it was trying to escape through his ribs. “Okay,” he muttered, running through the plan again. “Step one: Nigel gets arrested. Step two: I—” The screen blinked. New data appeared. Nigel Banyai - In Custody. Adam let out a nervous squeak. “Oh God, okay, step two, step two…” He cracked his knuckles and got to work, typing faster than he ever had. Darko had come back, and he was just looking at the guy in front of him. Nigel’s boyfriend. And he was talking to himself. Weird guy, he thought. Nigel sat on a very uncomfortable bench in a very bleak holding cell, watching a guy in the corner arguing with the wall. He was pretty sure the wall was winning. A loud noise made him jump. The lights flickered. The guy in the corner started laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Nigel tilted his head. The flickering stopped, and then— Click. The cell door popped open. Nigel stared at it. Then he grinned. He stood up, stretched like he had all the time in the world, and strolled right out, hands in his pockets, like he was casually leaving a dentist’s appointment. No big deal. The hallway was empty. Which felt… unusual. Wasn’t there supposed to be at least one officer making sure criminals didn’t just walk out? Then, over the intercom, a robotic voice crackled: "Attention all personnel: there is a level three security breach in evidence storage. Repeat, level three breach. Immediate response required.” Nigel blinked. "Uh." A second later, a bunch of officers came sprinting down the hallway, looking wildly in all directions. None of them were looking at him. They rushed right past him, disappearing around the corner in a blur of panicked shouting. Somewhere, an alarm started blaring. Nigel pulled a face. What the fuck was going on? Adam and Darko were sweating. Adam’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, bouncing nervously. This was not how it was supposed to go. He had meant to trigger a small, manageable distraction—maybe a fake fire alarm, mess with the power, nothing major. Instead, his attempt to loop the security footage somehow tripped an internal security protocol that flagged the entire evidence storage room as compromised. Now every available officer was swarming that area, and the system was scrambling to figure out what the hell was happening. Adam took a shaky breath. “Okay. Not ideal. But salvageable.” Darko was having a fucking heart attack. He switched camera feeds, scanning for Nigel. He was so close to the exit. Then Adam’s stomach dropped. An officer was standing right in front of the door. “Oh my fucking God, it’s over!” Darko said as he began to pace around Adam. Adam drummed his fingers against his knees, trying to think. He could trip another alarm, but at this point, the station was already in chaos. It had to be subtle. Then his eyes landed on a different system, one he hadn’t planned to touch. The dispatch radio. Darko swallowed. “Adam, are you sure…” “No.” Then he began to type. Nigel was about ten feet from freedom when every officer’s radio crackled to life with an urgent dispatch. "All units, we have a possible suspect match on the bank robbery case, last seen near West 46th. Requesting immediate backup—armed and dangerous." The officer guarding the door straightened. His hand twitched toward his radio. Another voice came through, someone in the station. “That’s the guy from the gas station footage, right?” “Yeah. If it’s him, we need to move now.” The officer hesitated, then cursed under his breath and took off running. Nigel didn’t know what just happened, but he wasn’t about to question it. He stepped onto the street like he had every right to be there, resisting the urge to break into a run. He had no idea what Adam had just pulled, but it had worked. Now he just had to— "Get in the car. Get in the fucking car!" Nigel turned his head and spotted a very sweaty Darko in the driver’s seat gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. He slid into the seat, and Darko immediately floored it, the tires squealing as they shot down the street. Nigel barely had time to close the door before he was thrown back against the seat. "Jesus, frate—" "Sorry, sorry—" Darko’s hands were locked at ten and two, his knuckles white. "We panicked. We panicked a lot." "You think?" Nigel shot a glance in the side mirror, expecting to see flashing red and blue lights behind them. Nothing. They were at the studio just a few moments later. "Uh," he said. We actually got away," said Nigel, entering the door and looking for Adam. Adam lifted his eyes and met Nigel’s. He made a small, strangled sound in the back of his throat. "I may have—um— redirected some police resources." Nigel raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?" "It means most of them are currently searching for an armed robber who doesn’t exist," explained Darko, while Adam got up and threw himself into his boyfriend’s arms. Nigel’s eyes widened. "Adam." He gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah. That was… a questionable decision." Nigel gawked at him. "Gorgeous, you basically called in fake cop backup—" "I know!" Adam’s voice was an octave higher than usual. "It was a last resort! And it worked, didn’t it?" Nigel opened his mouth, then closed it again. He really couldn’t argue with the results. "Still. That was kind of insane. You should have seen him, frate; he’s like Mr. Robot or some shit like that," said Darko. Adam groaned, slumping forward against Nigel’s chest. "I feel like I need to go lie down in a dark room for a week." Darko patted his shoulder. "You did good, man." Adam gave him a weak thumbs-up without lifting his head. Nigel leaned against the nearest wall, taking Adam with him. The adrenaline was finally starting to wear off. “So. That was fun,” he said breaking the silence. Both Adam and Darko looked at him. “Fun? Fun? I have aged ten years in the past hour, you crazy fucker.” Nigel hummed. “Could’ve been worse.” Adam wasn’t going to intervene because Nigel was right. Sort of. But Darko was. “Could’ve been—?” Darko exhaled sharply and started counting on his fingers. “One, you got arrested.” “Fake arrested,” murmured Adam. “Two, he had to literally hack into a police database—which, by the way, is illegal in a way that makes me feel actively unwell—and three—” Nigel shrugged. “Well, I didn’t die,” he said, cuddling Adam. Silence settled between them, just the faint static sound of Adam’s equipment filling the space. “I’m hungry,” Nigel said eventually. Darko slowly turned to look at him. “You—” He pressed his fingers against his temple. “You got arrested. You escaped jail through a literal cyber crime. And now your main takeaway from the experience is that you need a snack.” “Adrenaline burns a lot of energy.” Darko whispered something in Romanian, probably some profanities, Adam thought, and then he reached into his backpack, pulling out a squished protein bar. He threw it at Nigel’s face. “There. Now shut the fuck up.” Nigel caught it with a grin. “Thanks, Mom.” “Don’t tease Darko, Nigel. He was very stressed the whole time,” said Adam. “Yeah! You heard your sweetheart, fuckass! Don’t tease me.” Uh, it seemed like Adam and Darko had a little bonding experience, thought Nigel, smiling. “OK, OK. Sorry, gorgeous,” he said in Adam’s curls. “I’m sorry the plan didn’t go as expected,” whispered Adam after a little while. Nigel and Darko looked at each other for a moment. Nigel cupped Adam’s face in his hands, and Darko came closer to the couple so that he could look at Adam as well. “You don’t fucking say sorry, love. Don't you ever talk like that. Ever. You are a total punk rocker,” said Nigel, now serious. “I am?” “Yes, Adam. You are punk as fuck,” insisted Darko. Adam smiled. “Darko?” “Yes, Adam?” “Can we smooch now? Me and Nigel?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They kissed. A lot. They kissed a lot in front of Darko. Darko was full of it. “I got your cigarettes,” he heard Adam say to Nigel while handing him his pack. That meant another kiss. “Aw, that's fuckin' awesome, gorgeous.” Another kiss. “Sorry about this shitty fucking date. It doesn't get much worse than this,” whispered Nigel. Another kiss. And then another. Darko’s right eye began twitching a little. “So!! Frate, why don’t you turn this shit around and take Adam to the gig, mh? And make it a less shitty date,” he said loud enough to interrupt the smooching. Nigel smirked while looking at Adam. “What do you say, gorgeous? You’re coming?” His grin was half dare, half promise. Adam smiled softly, leaning into Nigel’s touch. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And, don’t tell anyone, but Darko smiled fondly. The crowd was a big mass of strange haircuts, ski masks, and sweat swarming like bees around the rather small space. It was the kind of place where the air smelled like cigarette smoke and spilled beer, and even the lights seemed a little bit too loud. Usually, Adam would’ve hated a place like this, but he was there for Q, for Nigel, his music-boyfriend-now-maybe-turned-real-boyfriend-who knows, a bundle of chaos wrapped in ripped clothes and combat boots, slinging words like a million tiny grenades ready to explode. And it was this Nigel he had fallen for. The one who made every day feel like a revolution, every moment something that tasted a lot like freedom. And there Adam was. It was not his first time seeing Saving Q, but it was his first time seeing Q nonetheless. "Sing as loud as you can, baby," Nigel whispered in his ear as they weaved through the throng of people, "I need to see you and hear you, OK?" Adam wasn’t sure whether to laugh or just clutch his arm like a lifeline. He wasn’t nervous, not exactly. But the noise, the wildness of it all, left him a little dizzy, and Nigel? Nigel was electric. He moved with the crowd with his trusted ski mask like he was born for it, laughing, high-fiving random strangers, soaking up the energy in a way that made Adam’s heart race. He turned to Adam, eyes twinkling in the dim light. “You good?” Adam nodded, even though his heart was thumping in his chest like a drumbeat. "Yeah, just... knowing I’m gonna see you... I'm just really excited.” Nigel chuckled, that knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m so happy you’re here," he said. “Where else would I be?” answered Adam, eyes glowing with emotion and love. The band (Darko and two new additions to the group "who weren’t fucking scumbags" according to Nigel) behind him was setting up—guitars being tuned, drums getting a final slap before the chaos began. Nigel excused himself, giving Adam a small kiss before running to his bandmates. Adam stood, rooted in place, feeling a weird mix of excitement and... what? He couldn’t quite figure it out. And then, like a switch flipped, the place went completely dark, and the whole room seemed to hold its breath. There was a moment of silence—then the guitar riffs exploded into life. And Nigel was standing there, microphone in hand, the harsh spotlight catching the shimmer of sweat on his chest. The first notes of the song pierced through the haze, raw and jagged. Adam’s pulse was erratic as he watched him move through the people, a force of nature in a band tee and ripped jeans. But it wasn’t just the sound. It wasn’t just the frenzy of music vibrating the floor beneath his feet. It was him. Q was familiar, but so was Nigel. This was where he belonged, where every ounce of himself became the anthem of everyone in this room. He caught his eyes from across the room, and for a split second, the chaos of the performance faded. His lips curled into that crooked grin that made him hold his breath. Everything he was was laid out there, raw and open. Adam? Adam felt it, all of it—the passion, the wildness, the feeling of being swept away by someone who was a little too loud, a little too untamed, but exactly what he needed. He wasn't sure when he started moving, but the next thing he knew, he was front and center, the sweat from the crowd mixing with the heat from the band, the thrum of bass in his bones, and Nigel’s voice wrapping around him like a ribbon. Adam grinned, his heart so full it might burst. He was everything Adam had never known he needed. And right now, he was singing like he meant it for him, like Adam was the only one in this room of people. After the first song ended, the crowd cheered—louder than Adam thought possible. Nigel's voice cut through the noise, raw and gritty, commanding attention. "This next one is dedicated to my music boyfriend," he yelled, his eyes still locked on his. His heart did that funny little flip again, and for a second, Adam was lost in the sea of noise, in the sea of Nigel. By the end of the song, sweat dripping down his face, shirt clinging to his back, Nigel leaped into the crowd, letting himself be caught by the surging mass of bodies. Adam stood frozen for a moment, watching mesmerized, before the crowd pushed him forward too. He was caught, not by the chaos, but by the certainty in his heart that somehow, this was always how it was supposed to be. When the song ended, Nigel stood at the edge of the crowd, breathing heavily, smiling like he’d just won a battle. The crowd was chanting his stage name, but all he saw was Adam. He pushed his way through the crowd and stood in front of Nigel, meeting his wild eyes with his own. And Nigel just lifted his ski mask from his mouth and kissed him, right there, right in front of all those people. And Adam loved every second of it, every impossibly loud heartbeat, and every touch of their tongues. And Nigel's never experienced a high so high in his fucking life. He returned with the band without lifting his eyes from Adam. The following hour was spent spitting harsh words into the mic and watching Adam scream the same words while waving his arms and jumping around. The following hour was spent spitting harsh words with a soft smile on his lips. Adam was laughing, breathless, his pulse still thrumming, when Nigel got to him at the end of the set. Adam jumped in the arms of his boyfriend, who lifted him high on his hips and kept him there, his legs around his torso, and Nigel’s hands on his lower back. “Nigel! This was the best thing in the world; you’re so good, and Darko is so great; you were amazing,” said Adam with a big smile on his face. "Yeah?" Nigel raised an eyebrow. "You mean it, or are you just trying to make me blush?" "Would it work if I said yes?" he teased, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Nigel leaned in close, his breath warm against his ear. "Baby, I thought I made it clear this morning that you have no idea of what you do to me." Adam smiled, a shy curl of his lips that made Nigel’s heart stop for a second. “Hey, Nigel?” “Mh?” “Remember when you dedicated the song to your music boyfriend?” Nigel looked directly at him, nodding. “Mm-hm.” “You were looking at me, right?” At that, Nigel smiled. “Yeah, I was lookin' at you.” Adam nodded. “I thought so.” And Nigel was so whipped it’s not even funny. “Nigel?” asked Adam again, now his voice lower. “Yeah?” “You're my real boyfriend now, right?” “Yeah, I'm your real boyfriend, gorgeous. For how long you’ll have me.”