The Dangerous Lives of Renter Boys

When I wake up the next morning, Yuri and I have somehow magically shifted positions on the bed. I started out on the outside, facing in but now my back is against the wall. My small bedmate is snuggled into a ball against me, knees up, hands curled protectively against his chin. His warm breath on my chest makes a patch of my skin moist and tingly. He radiates heat, a tiny furnace.

When I open my eyes, I can see that Finn is already up, sitting on the edge of the bed watching the two of us sleep. He\'s sees that I\'m awake, and mimes his amusement, hands against his bare chest over his heart, and a smirk on his face. I glare and stick out my tongue.

I begin a feeble attempt to wriggle out of the bed without jouncing Yuri. Not that I wouldn\'t prefer to stay in bed all day, but I have a dreadful need to get out. Call of nature, you see. I bite my tongue in concentration, grimacing as I try to untangle my arms and legs, not wanting to wake him for fear that he might be embarrassed by the way we slept last night.

I almost make it. I\'ve almost managed to slither my way out the end of the bed when I catch the blanket with an elbow, jouncing Yuri. I curse in my head as he opens his eyes Well, one eye. His right is swollen shut from his encounter last night., puffy and ringed in dark purple.

He looks stunned for a moment, unsure of where he is. But recognition settles over his face and he grins at me, languidly stretching stiff limbs. Apparently he\'s not the least bit self-conscious about the questionable sharing of my bed. No, he almost seems proud of himself, sitting up and yawning, cautiously pressing at his swollen face with his fingertips. His eyes stay locked to mine. I smile despite myself. Little flirt, embezzles half my bed and then stares steadily at me like he had every right to. He is an angelic little thing, though. I can almost see a halo over his mess of glossy black locks. He yawns again, this time accompanied by a vibrato sigh, sounding almost like a cat\'s purr. Melt.

Enough of this saccharine musing. If you\'ll excuse my vulgarity, I really must take a piss. I rustle through the pile of clothes on the floor, coming up with my trousers. I drag them on, three buttons up the front. I hook the suspenders onto my bare shoulders and shove my feet into my shoes.

\"I\'m going out to the lav\'.\" I bend my neck at an odd angle to look up at Finny, who\'s still sitting on the edge of his bed.

\"Get us some breakfast too.\"

\"Aye aye, cap\'n!\" I salute him jauntily, as I stand up. Yuri is putting on his shoes beside me, apparently coming with. We head out the door. Down the stairs, the barroom is empty this early in the morning. I weave my way through randomly-placed stools, with Yuri hot on my heels. We go through the swinging door into the back, which is a combination kitchen and sleeping-area for the couple that own this *lovely* little establishment. They\'re used to Finny and I invading their lives, and they smile up from their breakfast, eyeing Yuri a little confusedly. I smile, but we\'re out the back door before they can ask. The toilet is a short jaunt from the house. I go in first, then wait for Yuri. The morning is cool and clammy, clouds threatening more rain at any minute.

\"This is Yuri.\" Back in the kitchen, I make introductions before our landlords can inquire. They nod at him, and he smiles his saintly smile, flicking his hair out of his eyes. God bless those who can win hearts without saying a word. There will be no questions about why his face is puffy and swelling, or about why he happens to be staying with us.

That over, we get back to the normal routine. The wife, a smiling plump woman, unfortunately named Ethyl, nods at the counter, where two round loaves of bread are cooling and letting off a most delightful aroma. I grin and nance over to kiss her on the cheek, which charms a giggle out of her. She is under the impression that if she didn\'t feed us, Finn and I would starve to death. An informed assumption. Face it, the two of us are rather incompetent.

I grab one loaf of bread, and nab three apples as well. Yuri and I wander back upstairs.

Finny is sitting on the floor, cross-legged, dressed only in his pants, bare feet tucked under his legs. I plop down across from him, back leaning against my bed, putting us in our traditional morning position. We always sit, eat and gossip in the mornings, usually ending up rolling around laughing. Yuri sits beside Finn, and I toss them each an apple, setting my own on the floor so I can divvy up the bread. I singe my fingers tearing it into three pieces. It\'s so fresh that sweet steam rises from it.

\"So, did you two have a good sleep last night?\" Finny, just call him Mr. Tactful.

I choke on a bit of apple, colour jumping into my cheeks, flaming red. But Yuri just shrugs and nods. Bastards, they\'re two peas in a pod.

\"Think nothing of it.\" Finn playfully punches Yuri in the shoulder, glancing back at me. \"You should have seen Bryce on the night we met. Did the same thing.\"

\"I did not!\" I protest, to no avail. Finn launches into the story.

****

FLASHBACK: The Meeting

\"Buy me a drink?\" I was sitting at a bar, hunched protectively over my drink. At seventeen, dressed in grungy pants and loose, oil stained shirt, I looked like a working man. Which I was. A sailor, even though the slight rocking of waves on the calmest day was enough to make me queasy. But my father had been a sailor, so now I was. My parents had been dead ten years, and living with an aunt and uncle was not the happiest situation, so I had taken the first chance to escape. Had been at sea for six months, and hated every minute.

Back in London for a few days leave, I was determined to go on a respectable bender, sticking to the bars close to the docks. It was late.

I looked up to see the person so rudely propositioning me. A slender boy, tall with brown curls and curiously bright blue eyes. He\'s dressed to the nines, bowler hat, vest and tight long-tailed coat. Odd, in such a slum of a place.

\"C\'mon love, I\'m desperate for a scotch.\" I squinted at his open, friendly face, feeling a bit otherworldly. I shrugged and gestured to the bartender, who poured the drink. I had no idea what this guy wanted. I know, I know. I was the most naïve man on Earth.

\"I\'m Fintan. Finny, really.\" He shook my hand as he sat down beside me, sliding the stool over so that his knee presses into mine. \"Who are you?\"

\"Rowan. Rowan Bryceton.\" I was unnerved by his constant smile. His teeth were unnaturally pearly, and the expectant look in his eyes made me uncomfortable.

\"So, Rowan Bryceton,\" he stopped to take a sip of his ("¦my!) scotch, \"are you looking for someone?\"

\"Muh?\" And then it dawned on me. Oh god, how awkward. My eyes widened and I shook my head.

He was taken aback, mouth half open.

\"I\'m really not! Thanks, though.\" I held my hands up.

\"Then why did you buy me a drink? That\'s not how it works!\" He looked at me as if I was an alien species, incredulous.

\"I\'m ry soy sorry, I"¦I"¦\" I stopped and shut my mouth as he began to snicker, trying to hide his laughter in his hand and failing rather miserably. I glared for a moment, but slowly the lunacy of the situation dawned on me, and I began to laugh too. I laughed until my sides hurt, until I couldn\'t breathe. Tears streamed down Finn\'s face. We continued on until the obvious looks from the rest of the bar came to our attention. We became best friends in that minute, taking deep, shaky breaths, trying to suppress random spontaneous giggles that threatened to set us off again.

\"Oh god, but you are thick!\" He smirked at me. \"What the hell did you think I wanted?\"

\"No feckin\' clue.\" I shook my head, pressing my palms to my beet-red cheeks. He drained the last drops of the drink.

\"You are priceless!\" Goofy grin on his face. \"Buy me another drink, and tell me about Rowan Bryceton.\"

I did buy him another, and another for myself as well. I quickly found him to be a good ear, easy to talk to. I found myself laying my life bare for him. The dead parents, the hated aunt and uncle, the job that makes me sick (literally), it all came out.

\"Do you really hate the ships that much?\" I nodded before I got to think about it, and amazed myself. I hadn't realized before, or hadn\'t let myself realize.

\"Well, you know, my job really isn't so bad.\" He pursed his lips, squinting at something on the surface of the bar. And then he peeked at me sideways, gauging my reaction. My look, aghast horror, doesn't deter him. \"This shit, picking up sailors at the docks is just extra cash. I actually work at this lounge"¦club"¦place. Warwick\'s. It\'s over in Whitechapel.\"

\"Are you suggesting that I become a rent-boy?\" I spoke slowly.

\"Old Warwick is always looking for new boys, good looking boys.\" He gave me the once-over , arching an eyebrow foxily. I struggle to keep the aghast-horror thing I had going on. I\'ll admit it, I was pleased.

\"Are you suggesting that I become a rent-boy?\" I spoke even slower. It was still sinking in.

\"Just saying that it\'s not such a bad deal. And you have the looks for it.\" He appealed to my vanity, crafty little bugger.

\"But I\'ve never"¦I wouldn\'t know what"¦\" He silenced me with a wave of his hands.

\"It\'s not really *hard*. You just s, to, touch, wink. Shamelessly.\"

\"That\'s not the part I\'m worried about.\"

\""¦Oh!\"

Jesus, what the hell did he think I was worried about? Now who\'s the dense one?

\"That part isn\'t really hard either. On your back, or on your knees. It\'s quick.\" He wasn\'t shy at all, staring me straight in the eye.

We sat in silence for a minute, Finny considerately giving me some time to think and consider. And I did. And I decided.

\"Where did you say this Warwell\'s place was?\"

\"Warwick\'s,\" he corrected, \"Whitechapel. I can show you tomorrow.\"

\"Show me? Tomorrow?\"

\"You don\'t have anywhere to stay tonight?\"

How the hell did he know?

He invited me to stay at his place. I accepted and we left, me leaving a b of of coins on the bar to pay for our drinks. The tramp through the dark streets was long, but Finn seemed full of boundless energy, laughing and lurching as we walked, his spirit seemingly ethereal, too big for his mortal form. By the time we reached his room, I knew everything and more about Warwick\'s and Finn and his friends and family. In a big, ramshackle former-mansion that had been converted into cheap rental rooms, Finn\'s place was small but high-ceilinged, one bed, desk and two mismatched chairs.

He wasted no time, barely through the door before his clothes began to come off.

\"I don\'t know about you, but I\'m bushed.\" He motioned to the bed. \"There\'s the bed.\" I must have looked a little unsure, standing stiff, hands stuffed into my pockets. I slowly stripped down to my underclothes, more than a little self-conscious. Finn pretended not to notice, careful with his clothes, hanging them over one chair. I was between the covers before him, facing the wall.

I felt him slide in beside me. He was humming under his breath. In the narrow bed, we lay pressed back-to-back. Not one more word as we drifted off.

By morning, my natural instincts had me facing him, snuggled in his arms against his warm chest.

*******

Yuri seems to have enjoyed Finny\'s story. I have to admit, it did happen exactly that way. Rather embarrassing, if I do say so myself.

The food is all gone, but Yuri watches us expectantly for another story. We are his jesters. But Finn and I need an audience, after all.

*******

This chapter got way too long way too fast. More flashbacks in the future. TBC.

xo. murron.