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Everything was shit, this night, his fucking shit Evo, just shit. Even this fucking coke was shit, he swiped the last line off his wrecked car licking the remainder off his fingers. It was wrapped around a tree-the car that is-it was one of those crashes they’d say “you’re lucky to be alive” but Kavinsky didn’t feel lucky. He felt fucked over, he felt a grand poorer and a ride short. Standing by the side of the road flicking through his contacts, he called Proko.

K had left his own party to race some nobodies from town, he thought he had it in the bag. He’d thought wrong. He got cocky and overshot a turn, his car front-ending a tree, or three.
“You fucking piece of shit Proko, why the fuck do you even have a phone, you are fucking useless.” He kicked his chrome rims, pain shot up his leg, fuck.

Kavinsky was still cursing to himself when an orange Supra rolled up, stopping just right of K.

“Hey baby, how much for a blowjob?” The driver whistled. Kavinsky looked up and flipped him off, making his way to the other side of the car.

“Bite me, J.”

He lit up a cigarette in the passenger seat, checking the damage to his face in the side mirror. Jiang was outside looking over the Evo, Kavinsky could see the ‘how the fuck did you survive this’ that was written all over his face, the cuts over his arms and legs suggested he jumped. But the head injury he was sporting said he didn’t remember, one second he was trying to work out why his windscreen was cracked and the next he was on his knees next to a smoking Evo. Jiang jumped back in the driver’s seat, giving K the once over but before he could even suggest the hospital K shot him down.

“So, what the fuck happened?” Kavinsky didn’t reply, Jiang knew he was a sore loser, but he liked to rub it it. They were stopped at the lights, Jiang lightly tapped K’s knee trying his best imitation of a white suburban mother he said.

“You don’t need to win every time” ruffling K’s hair “All you need to do is try and boy did you try Joseph, I’m so proud of you buddy.” He was still laughing as Kavinsky swatted his hand away.

“Shut up and just fucking drive your piece of shit car, asshole.” K flicked his cigarette at him, regretting it when Jiang whacked his shoulder.

He really shouldn't have mixed the yellow pill with the red one, it didn’t make orange it just made him feel nauseous. The vodka he used to swallow them wasn’t helping either, it was some of Skov’s Russian shit, or possibly battery acid at this point he couldn’t tell the difference. He couldn’t see straight, the bass of the music pounded in his head, hands fumbled around on the wall. His eyes could see a door but he felt no handle-thump-well he definitely felt that, his head hitting the hard floor. Kavinsky groaned and rolled onto his back, palms pressed into his eyes, like he could push away the pain.

Something burnt his nostrils, did he throw up without realizing, no-k’s body shot up off the floor-fuck no, no he’s dead. His back hit the desk in his room, no Jiang’s room, fuck, someone’s room. K’s eyes scanned the room but he didn’t see anything, couldn’t see anything it was too dark, but he could still smell the acid of his aftershave. He remembered the first time he ever smelt it, his father was suppose to be on a business trip but he came back early. To a wrecked house. K thought it would be a brilliant idea to have a party-and it fucking was-while he was gone, no harm he’d clean it up before pops got home, but he never got the chance. He remembered his hands around his throat, his breath on his face, that fucking aftershave burnt his nostrils as he gasped for air. He remembered the way his leather belt hit the bare flesh of his back, the sound, the way the pain shot up his spine clawing it’s way out his mouth. The way his father snarled


Kavinsky’s whole body tensed, hands protecting his face, reflex. He was lost in a memory, this wasn’t real, no it was just the pills, right?. He couldn’t tell anymore, he just needed to get out, he moved and slammed straight into a wall? no? chair?...him. K lashed out fingers gashing something soft. He heard screams, they were coming from him, but they sounded so distant.

“Joseph, it’s me,’re okay.” The world was coming back into focus, K looked up to the boy in front of him, eyes wide with someone’s hands around his throat. Kavinsky’s hands-fuck-what was he doing, where was he. He released Swan’s throat and crumbled to the ground. Swan was beside him in an instant, hands in his hair, lips on his temple.

“He can’t hurt you anymore K, he can’t touch you.”

He woke up with a massive hangover, and some naked chick on him. ugh. What day was it? Sunday? or maybe a weekday...well fuck it if it is, Kavinsky wasn’t going anywhere near that hell hole today. He left Dani? no Jackie? or whatever, he really needed to start enforcing a ‘no sleep’ policy. Really what did she think she was gonna get breakfast or something, she was a bad fuck anyway. He shrugged on a shirt and headed down to the kitchen. Skov better not have fucking eaten all the cheerios again. His head was pounding in rhythm with his footsteps on the stairs. He could see Swan and Proko curled up on one of the couches in the lounge, no one else was around.

He couldn’t find a bowl that wasn’t dirty, so he resigned to using a stein he found on the counter. By the smell of it, it had previously had Jack Daniels in it, possibly also Tequila, lethal combo. Just as Kavinsky was about to get comfortable on the counter, Dan-ackie, no, Kristy-that’s it-he remembered Skov going on that her and her friends were the kkk because they shared the same initials. Kristy came waltzing down the stairs heels in hand looking like a bad memory. She smiled when she saw him half-sitting on the countertop, leaning next to him in what K assume was suppose to be sexy but came across desperate.

“That was fun last night, we should do it again” no we shouldn’t
She handed him her number, kissed his neck and whispered in his ear “See ya ‘round Kavinsky”
He was too hungover for this shit. He was also too hungover to deal with Skov, who just wandered in from outside.

“Mornin’ mother fuckers.” Too loud, too early. K groaned steadying himself on the sink.
“Inside voice Skov.” Swan muttered from the couch, Skov winked in reply.

Skov walked over to where Kavinsky was practically hugging the sink, tapping a beat on his back as he walked past. Getting a juice out of the fridge he turned to K.

“So riddle me this lover boy, how come when I call you Joseph you get your panties in a twist, but as soon as a blonde bitch is moaning it you’re all fucking for it?” Skov hummed. K clearly looked confused so Skov added more clarity imitating Kristy’s high-pitched voice “Oh Joseph, fuck Joseph, yeah right there, oh, oh, oh GOD”

“Fuck off Skov I’m not in the mood” K just wanted some painkillers and to go back to bed for the rest of the day, but that wasn’t what Skov had in mind.

“Oh come on Joseph” Skov leaned down to reach Kavinsky’s ear “Have a little fun sweetheart” K snapped, whether it was Skov’s proximity or the fact he was too peppy for this time of the morning, it didn’t matter. Kavinsky had him by the throat his back flush against the wall. A stupid fucking smile plastered on Skov’s face, his eyes screaming ‘fucking do it’.

K’s breath was hot against Skov’s face “Fucking say it again, see where that gets you.”
Skov just laughed pushing against Kavinsky’s hand, making his grip tighter. His voice was low and deep drawing out the word “Jo...seph, or do you prefer Osya? Get real Oedipus up in the bedroom” Skov knew it was coming and he welcomed it like an old friend, K’s love was black and white, there was no grey and in Skov’s opinion the blacker his love the better it was. So he was still smiling when Kavinsky’s fist collided with his face, a laugh escaped his lips when the other boy kneed him. Both of them tumbling to the floor, punches being thrown, curses being shouted. No one stepped in they just let it play out, till Jiang came down stairs.

“Now come children, play nice.” He stepped over them on his way to the couch.

The fighting died out, neither boy too committed to hurting the other. K’s head pounding too much to even stand back up. “God, you’re a fucking cunt Skov, fuck you, fuck you all.” He shouted as he stomped back up stairs, leaving the slam of his door ringing in the silence.

Proko was down in the kitchen making eggs and bacon, rattling pans around clashing glasses in his attempts to put orange juice in them. Does Kavinsky even like orange juice, he didn’t even know, he put some vodka in it just for good measure. Proko knew exactly what K would say when he saw what he’d done he’d call him a pussy like always, but this was the only way proko knew how to apologize. He was never good with words but gestures, he was good at those.

Proko slowly walked up the stairs trying not to drop everything he had on the tray, then trying to balance all that while opening Kavinsky’s door. K was sitting on the edge of his bed shirtless smoking, he looked as though he’d just woken up. K turned his head to proko when he heard the door shut, his expression already telling proko all he needed to know.

“No fuck off, you always fucking do this, you’re like a wounded puppy. I kick you and you bring me a dead bird.” Proko just put the tray down in front on Kavinsky, on his desk chair that he never uses.

“I think that’s a cat...the one that..umm brings the dead birds” Kavinsky just rolled his eyes
“Get some original material Proko, you always bring me breakfast after a fight like we’re some kind of fucking married couple.” K ran his hand through his hair, while Proko sat next to him.

“Just fucking apologize if you need to, or just get the fuck over it like a normal person.” Proko was burning a hole into the side of K’s face, looking at him was worse. His bright eyes were doe-like, he looked like a boy who had just been told his dog died. But just as Kavinsky was going to cave to the other boy, his eyes changed, the sad puppy look taken over by a dark lust. Proko moved his hand onto K’s leg, moving it up his thigh slowly. K sat very still as the other boy dipped his head to the crook of his neck, kissing the freckles that dotted his skin. Proko nipped and licked at K’s neck his hand resting on Kavinsky’s upper thigh. Once Proko made to his way to K’s ear, he bit on it, sucking at it. A small moan escape K’s lips. Proko’s hot breath dance against K’s face “I’m sorry Joseph, I’ll do better next time.” Kavinsky was torn between strangling him and throwing him onto the bed to see what it would take for him to make the boy moan his name in ecstasy. But before he could decide the moment was gone. Proko got up taking the warmth with him, leaving Kavinsky sitting on the bed shirtless and wound up. Kavinsky reached over for a piece of bacon, just the way he liked it, extra crispy the boy was good.

“Proko” he turned, pressing his back against the door. The idiot was practically euphoric, K could see him glowing and he wanted to tell him everything he never had the balls to. I’m sorry, it’s not all your fault. It was me, it was an accident, I tried to save you. I really tried. I didn’t mean to make you. I’m glad I did. Stay. I want you. I need you. God I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to love. Help me. But instead all he said was “Clean up the fucking mess you made, I don’t want bugs in my house.”

His touch got him higher then any drug he could dream up, the way his tongue moved against his skin. Burning as it moved to the hollow of his throat, Kavinsky moaned when the boy bit down on his shoulder. fuck. The way his lips crashed against his like he was sober and K was an aged scotch. He sucked at K’s bottom lips, bit down as he grinded on top of him. K needed more, more friction, more heat. He flipped both of them over pulling a moan from the other boy. Kavinsky wanted to see what else he could make him moan. Trailing kisses down his stomach, leaving bruises and bitemarks, the boy underneath him coming undone. His hands pulling at K’s hair, his hips bucking, pleas coming out of his mouth. please...i just need, fuck. Kavinsky was taking his sweet time and he wasn’t going to be done anytime soon.

“Fuck Joseph, please, I need you” K’s whole world shifted, like he was being sucked into a worm hole. No wait that was just gravity, Kavinsky’s half asleep body hitting the floor with a thump.

“Dude stop having sex dreams, we’re late for school.” K was dazed and confused he had no idea who said that, or where he was, his bed? no the cold tiles under him told him he was on the lounge floor. fuck. He needed at least five cold showers before he could even consider going to school. His mind replayed his dream, the boy with the shaved head completely under his spell, moaning his name. Fucking Lynch.