The Broken Road

Information: I do not own nor I have any rights to the song "Straight to number one" by "Touch and go". But I found it very useful while writing this chapter :)

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mrrreye - I'm honored :) Now the writing is going slower as I have to work on two stories, and I still have my non-virtual life, but I don't give up!
And just so that you know - "give-me-more" kind of review is also a wonderful review :]
Thanks for waiting, I hope you're still there ;)

Well, have a nice time reading, whoever happens to come here!

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Straight to Number One


"Mom! I'm home!" Only silence answered Ringo's call. "Ma?" He took off his shoes, tossed his schoolbag by the hall wall, and entered the kitchen. Some dirty dishes were in the sink, there was a stench of burnt who knew what—maybe scrambled eggs, an opened vodka bottle on the table....

"Mom? Are you here?" Ringo grabbed the bottle with disgust, corked it, and put it away in the old cupboard. The piece of furniture could have been considered a period antique if it weren’t so shabby. Mrs and Mr Alva had got it from Jeremiah's parents as a wedding gift. It must have looked really impressive then, but now? If Grandma could see it now she would probably have a heart attack, if not for the fact that she had had one two years earlier because of something else. Or maybe it was because of the cupboard after all. Who could tell?

Ringo checked the dining room and then climbed upstairs to his mother's bedroom. He knocked on the closed door and when nobody answered, he pressed the doorknob and went inside.

"Mom!" His heart almost stopped when he saw the motionless, pale body lying on the bed, her hand hanging down to the floor. In one quick look Ringo caught the opened packet of sleeping draughts on the bedside table. His mother used to take them sometimes when her migraines kept her from falling asleep.

"Mom! God, no!" The boy threw himself toward the woman, his eyes already full of tears, and brought his ear to her lips, hoping for a warm brush of breath. "Wake up, please," he sobbed. "Don't do this—don't fucking do this to me!" His hands feverishly pressed her carotid artery and the area above her left breast, trying to feel a pulse.

Suddenly Marion Alva uttered an inarticulate sound reminiscent of a pig's grunt and yanked up. Her bloodshot, unfocused eyes noticed her son and widened with terror at the sight of his right hand grasping her breast.

"Wh—what are you—" She couldn't gather her thoughts, not to mention express them clearly.

"Nothing," Ringo whispered in shock as the sour odor of alcohol enfolded him. He let her go and dragged himself off the bed. "Nothing...."

"You crying?" She frowned, hearing his trembling voice and quiet sobs. "Oh, shit, my head!" She collapsed back onto the bed with a moan.

Ringo clenched his fists, his face still wet from tears. "Just die already," he hissed. "Once and for all." He was a bag of nerves now, enraged at his mother for making him go through these emotions yet again. How many more times would he endure this? How many more times could his heart stop in panic at the thought of his mother dying?

"What? Why?" Marion's eyes grew round. She was surprised and visibly hurt. "Ringo," she wept pitifully, "honey, don't say such cruel things."

"You think I'm cruel? Then what would you call the things you do to me?" he shouted. "You don't fucking care when something just about kills me! So why should I care? ‘Cause I'm your son? Oh yeah, really? And you think it's enough? I'm your child, for Christ's sake!" He accented the word "child". "A child! Not your fucking father! Get a grip on yourself and start behaving like a grown woman, or I swear I'll kill you someday with my own hands!" Ringo pounded his fist against the wall and dashed out. His words still reached Marion's ears when he shouted from the first floor: "I wish Dad had taken me with him!"

Ringo didn't really know how to handle his problems. No one had ever taught him that. No one had been there for him who could help, comfort, and support him. He had stuck it out alone with his mother as she fell apart, her desperate love weighing him down unbearably, and a father who had his own life. Ringo had too much pride to cry on his father's shoulder and too much fear that his father would leave him again if he became a burden.

Ringo didn't really know how to handle his problems so he just let them roll over him, with a strong determination to endure.

Spending the evening at home with his crying mother, dirty plates in the sink, and a huge load of emotions he was yearning to vent, wasn't a good idea. Ringo slammed the door and directed his fast, angry steps towards the nearest bus stop. Mandy had said something about a small party at Cody's....

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Ringo went downstairs to the smoke-filled basement and looked around. His classmates should be here somewhere. He started through the oneiric interior, passing people talking, drinking, and smoking at transparent tables made of glass of different colors. Wrapped by hypnotic, loud, but not unpleasant music, he searched niches, dead ends, hidden rooms, and narrow corridors illuminated with faint light until he finally caught the high-pitched sound of Mandy's laugh. Following her voice, Ringo found the right corner.

"Hi!" he said loudly, trying to outshout the pulsating sounds coming from the speakers.

People saw more than heard his greeting. Faces brightened with smiles, a few hands waved, and a few reached out to shake his hand. Ringo instantly noticed the bright, unruly mop and ear hung with earrings.

"Oh, hi." He hadn't expected to meet Kayden there.

"Hi." Kayden smiled widely, according to his old custom, and moved to make room for the newcomer.

Ringo flopped down on a low, red sofa and leaned back with a sigh, his legs wide spread. "So, whatcha doin' here?" he asked, looking at his the other boy.

"I lost my way home and these charming people gave me shelter." Kayden made a theatrical face and raised a half-full glass of beer. "Cheers!" He gestured towards Casey in a toast and took a big gulp.

"I'm gonna buy something to drink," said Ringo, standing up.

"Sit." Kayden pulled him down by the belt. "This is yours." He drew the full glass closer to the dark-haired boy.

"How did you get it here?" They didn’t sell alcohol to juveniles at Cody’s. Never.

"You forgot I'm already of age, brat." Kayden winked at Ringo.

"Riiight." Ringo's lips widened in a teasing smile. "For some of us time runs faster."

"I warn you, I'll take it back if you go too far," Kayden laughed, grabbing Ringo's glass in a pretended attempt to steal it.

"Hands off!" Ringo snatched the beer out of Kayden's hand.

It happened just like that. Ringo didn't even know when he’d become immersed in casual, relaxing small talk with Kayden. It did him good. Oh, so good! He had needed it so much, to tear himself away from his troubles and joyless thoughts. His heart felt light.

It was close to midnight and only the two of them remained on the red sofa, the rest of the team having left one by one. They were both firmly tipsy, enjoying the night and their mutual company more and more.

"Somehow I have the impression that you're in no hurry to go home," Kayden mumbled, turning his empty glass in his hands.

"Somehow I have the same impression about you," Ringo answered, his eyes closed and a faint smile flickering on his lips.

"That's a correct impression," Kayden confirmed, getting serious.

"Yeah," Ringo muttered, leaving Kayden to guess which statement had been answered with that "yeah".

"What happened before we first met? " Kayden asked suddenly. "You said then it had been a rotten day."

"I don't remember, man." It was hard for Ringo to make his brain work properly.

"I bet you do. And I'm curious."

"Oh, fuck!" Ringo sat up straight, the feeling of relaxation fleeting irretrievably. "You just had to ruin everything! And I was having such a nice time...." He angrily slammed his glass down on the table.

"So you remember it after all." Kayden smirked. "Tell me. I don't feel like going home yet." He looked at Ringo attentively.

"What do you want me to tell you?" Ringo held a grudge against his mate for spoiling the mood.

"Dunno...whatever you want." Kayden shrugged.

"My mother is crazy," Ringo blurted out, partially because he felt a sudden urge to finally say it aloud, and partially to shock Kayden; to make him regret asking.

"That's funny. So is mine." Kayden laughed, throwing back his head.

"You have no fucking idea," Ringo snapped, boiling with helpless anger, and he sprang up to leave, humiliated and disappointed. I'm so stupid. Ringo kicked himself for his inexplicable expectations. After all, why would Kayden understand and treat his clumsy confession appropriately?

But Kayden grabbed Ringo's hand and stopped him. "C'mon, Ringo—chill out, will ya? I'm not saying anything bad. Just sit down, 'kay? How do you know I'm kidding, anyway?"

"Aren’t you?" Ringo looked Kayden in the eyes with a sharp expression. Kayden didn't answer, just pushed Ringo down, forcing him to sit. They sat in silence for a while, Ringo clenching his fingers and Kayden smoking.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Ringo started, after he’d calmed down a bit. Alcohol made it a lot easier.

"A brother," answered Kayden slowly. "Older. Do you?"

"No. I'm an only child."

"Fuckin' hard, huh?" Kayden puffed a cloud of smoke and followed it with his eyes.

"Why?" Ringo knitted his brows, ready to launch his defenses.

"It's easier when you're not alone, I guess," Kayden said indifferently.

"Maybe." Ringo shrugged his shoulders. "It is what it is, no point in speculating."

"Yeah." Kayden dragged on the cigarette and flicked ash into the ashtray.

"How old is your brother?"

"Twenny-six."

"What does he do?"

"You mean for a living?" Kayden gave Ringo a questioning look.

"U-huh." Ringo nodded.

"He's a 'visagiste'."

"A visagiste?" Ringo looked surprised.

"Yeah, why?"

"Dunno, I just thought that was rare for a man. By the way, exactly what does a visagiste do?"

"He makes people, women mainly, look better. Makeup and stuff."

"Hmm." Ringo found it interesting. "Makeup, you say. Cool."

"Is it?" Kayden caught his word.

Ringo shrugged. "I don't know about makeup. But I think it would be pretty cool to make women look attractive—quite fun, don’t you think?"

"Dunno." Now was Kayden's turn to shrug. "I've never done it."

"Haven't you wanted to try? You're artistically talented, aren't you? I bet you'd do well."

"I'm not into that kind of shit." Kayden started a new cigarette. "I'd rather do tattoos."

"Oh, show me yours," Ringo requested, remembering seeing stripes on Kayden's forearm.

Kayden turned back a sleeve and uncovered three black arrows with sharp heads surrounding his forearm like bracelets, below the elbow.

"Cool. What's this?" Ringo pulled Kayden's arm closer to see the whole pattern.

"Arrows."

"Why? Do they mean something?"

"Nope. I just had this idea. You like it?"

"Yeah, interesting." Ringo let go of Kayden's hand. "Do you have any other tattoos?"

"Uhm...kinda." Kayden smiled slightly.

"Show me."

"Nope." Kayden laughed.

"Why not?"

"Well, it's in a kind of place you don't show in public." The boy winked at Ringo.

"Your ass?" Ringo raised one corner of his mouth in a forgiving smile.

"Not exactly, but close." Kayden patted his crotch.

"Shit—you tattooed your dick?" Ringo's eyes widened.

"Yep!"

"It must've hurt like hell."

"It did. But it's not like you can't stand it. The worse part of the deal is that it doesn't stand up for some time afterward," Kayden chuckled.

"Oh. So when did you get it?" asked Ringo, wondering when getting it up had started to be vital for him. He decided it hadn’t been so long ago.

"Three years."

"And...what is it?"

"A ssssnake." Kayden's hand made a slithering movement and he fluttered his tongue, hissing like a snake.

"God, you're crazy, man." Ringo shook his head. "Why did you do that? On a whim? For a girl?"

"I lost a bet." Kayden sighed and let the smoke out of his mouth.

"A bet? What bet?" Ringo was really amazed.

"A stupid bet with my brother."

"Will you give me some details?" Ringo raised his eyebrows, looking at his classmate in anticipation.

"I'll trade them for an explanation about the rotten day you were having when we met." Kayden smirked slyly, challenge in his eyes.

Ringo frowned and closed his lips tightly, irritated by the other’s teasing.

"Okay," he decided finally. "Deal."

"Okay." Kayden nodded. "We were drunk and he said I was an innocent freak. Well, I wasn't, of course, but I was short-tempered—I still am—and it was easy to tease me. Josh, that's my brother, always liked to take advantage of that. So he mocked me and finally said, 'Oh, yeah? Then kiss him!' His friend was there drinking with us too. 'I bet you'll chicken out.' I said over my dead body and wanted to kiss the man, but at the last moment I passed. I didn't have the guts to do it, right?"

"Sure, I get it. Gross." Ringo nodded his head in understanding.

"Well, then they both laughed like crazy jerks. I told them, 'If you're so brave, go on—kiss each other!' Josh asked if I wanted to make a bet on whether they’d do it, and I took him up on it. They kissed and I lost. Then I had to get this tattoo. But it's not like I was particularly against it." Kayden smiled and sprawled on the sofa, stretching out his long legs.

"God, you're both stupid, " Ringo laughed. "They must have been more drunk than you, I guess."

"Not really," Kayden denied cheerfully. "They were gay. I just didn't know it back then."

"G—gay? Holy shit! " Ringo blushed. He put the glass on the table and looked at Kayden with confusion written all over his face.

"In other words they tricked me, the bastards."

"So...your brother...he goes out with men?" Ringo tried to edge his way around the subject the way a curious but mistrustful dog approaches a hedgehog.

"That's what being gay means, isn't it?" Kayden looked at him with lenient mockery. "Yes, he has a man."

"You know him?"

"Sure—it was the guy we'd been drinking with. They told me later. Actually it was an unintentional coming-out, as they were drunk, but it did them good."

"And your parents? Do they know?"

"Well, that's a different story," Kayden sighed and pulled out the next cigarette. He wasn't really a chain smoker. Actually he hardly ever smoked; during parties, in the school bathroom—well, just like everybody. But that was a thing that Ringo didn't know about Kayden. The blond boy wasn't used to expressing his feelings so honestly. Always suppressing them inside, he had mastered the art of putting a cheerful or indifferent mask on his face in every circumstance. Only the crazy, uncontrollable urge to do something with his hands—well, to do anything at all—was a clear sign of his inner tension. And now he felt strained, talking about matters like this with a guy he barely knew.

Ringo didn't repeat his question, but he was staring at Kayden with a flush on his cheeks.

"They—yeah, they know." Kayden nervously crumpled the butt in his fingers. After a moment of silence he added, "But they don't approve of it."

"I'm not surprised," Ringo said without thinking.

"No?" Kayden gave him a sharp, wary look. "Why not?" It sounded like an attack.

"I—I mean—" Ringo blushed even harder, trying to somehow get himself out of the awkward situation. He felt he had said something inappropriate. "I mean, it's like a shock, right? It can be hard for parents to take it."

"Sure it can. And it was. To the extent of kicking my brother out and telling him to not ever come back." Kayden's voice was calm and cold; only the cigarette in his fingers trembled slightly.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Ringo's eyes widened and became round as saucers. But one glimpse at Kayden was enough to tell he was not joking. "Fuck."

"That's right." Kayden raised his brows with philosophical calm and caught the cigarette with his lips.

"What 'bout you?" Ringo asked hesitantly.

"What 'bout me?" Kayden answered with a question, although he understood Ringo’s meaning very well.

"How do you feel about it?"

Kayden shrugged. "Normally we keep in touch with Josh. He's a cool guy; helps me a lot."

"What is his...lover doing?" To use the word "lover" in such a context wasn't natural to Ringo, and he stumbled over it.

"He's a surgeon."

Ringo whistled. "Boy, that's something."

"Yeah," Kayden answered slowly, a bit absently. "But it means nothing to my father. The thing is that the guy shoves his dick into my brother's ass."

Ringo reddened up to his ears as he tried not to imagine the picture Kayden had presented so straightforwardly.

"A pussy sucking your dick in—that is what makes you a worthy man," the boy continued. "That's my old man's sophisticated philosophy." He flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette into an ashtray.

"You—do you get along with your father?" Ringo gathered his courage to ask.

"Are you kiddin'?" Kayden snorted. "He does everything he can to make me follow his plans for my future, and I do everything I can to avoid it. That's why I look like I do, and that's why I don't give a shit about school. I know it's stupid and childish, but I don't know what else I can do. Oh, don't get the idea that he cares for me so much he wants to help me with my life. He just wants to make yet another Medal of fucking Honor of me to attach to his chest and show to everybody—look, this is my son! This is my achievement in the field of child-rearing! He doesn't give a shit about the real me, the son of a bitch."

Kayden bit his lip. It was rare for him to get so carried away. Usually he was able to dismiss the problem with a couple of half-hearted words and cut short a conversation that was growing too personal, but this time his cup of bitterness overflowed. Before he could stop them, resentment and sorrow that had been kept there way too long escaped his heart.

Kayden blushed, wishing for a second that he could take back his words, but...what the hell, he thought. He needed it. He needed to get everything out of his system at least once.

"Who is your father?" Ringo's face held an expression of pure concern and kindness. He’d managed to forget about his own problems and for the first time in a very long time he stopped feeling sorry for himself. The discovery that others could have problems just as big as his was an odd relief.

"A military man. Fuck, a general." Kayden laughed bitterly. "You get it now, right?" He looked straight into Ringo's sad eyes. "For him we're just like pawns to move on a chessboard. He lives in a world of a drill, orders, yes-sirs, and other shit. No room for flaws." He shook his head and stared at his fingers, subconsciously playing with a cigarette.

"I—I'm sorry, Kayden." Ringo didn't really know what he should say. There was probably nothing that would make Kayden feel better. "And...your mother? If I may ask?"

"You may ask—why not?" Kayden sighed heavily, shrugging. "I've already told you more than I've ever told anybody, I think." He smiled bitterly. "My mother is a puppet. She is sweet, submissive, and fucking proud that she's the wife of an officer. She blindly believes in what he says and does. It's like she's a believer of my father's religion. I—she's, well, nice. She's just so fucking weak." Kayden shook his head again, combed his messy hair with his hand, and scratched the back of his head. "Hell, I’ve told you the whole story!" He laughed, putting a lot of effort into making it sound light. It hadn’t worked, though, he knew that. Ringo caught the constraint right away but pretended not to notice, and Kayden was grateful for it. "You were going to tell me about your shitty day, remember?"

"Yeah." Ringo smiled. "It was shitty, too. I had a scene with my mother."

"Your crazy mother?" Kayden chuckled.

"If you laugh, I'll kick your ass. And I'll never tell you anything again, I promise." Ringo puckered up and directed a finger at his mate in a warning gesture.

"Sorry." Kayden got serious. "Really. I thought it was—never mind. Keep going."

"Uhm...she is kinda crazy. I mean—not mentally ill...or, well, maybe. Depression, borderline personality disorder, and who knows what else. She just can't get a grip on herself." God, it was so purifying to talk about it aloud at last. "It's ever since—well, since my dad left us. He lives with this woman now and they have a son. It's not his son, only hers, but he treats the kid like his son. And I hadn’t spoken to him for years until just lately. And my mother, she just didn't make it. She's stuck somewhere in there. That day—uhm, the day before—I had a date and I told my mother about it, but she didn't want to let me go. She threatened to commit suicide. She does that sometimes, you know? I hate her then...but I can't ignore it. Sometimes I even wish she’d die but then I feel like shit, and—oh, fuck. Anyway, that day I couldn't go to meet this girl, May, and...we’d had some troubles before, also because my mother. Mum didn't want me to meet anyone; she is unhealthily jealous of me and afraid she'll lose me. So it was like the final nail in the coffin: I broke up with May. She left me. And then came you. Pretty clear, huh?" Ringo chuckled, trying to put a brave face on it, and looked at Kayden.

"As clear as day, man." Kayden patted Ringo's shoulder. "You know, I just had this strange thought: isn't it nice, however insane it seems, to meet someone other than you in this shithole?" Kayden said it without a smile, looking at Ringo seriously. Ringo thought that he liked those grey eyes; they were strangely calming and bracing.

"Yeah. Stupid, isn't it?" He grimaced unhappily, taking a gulp of a warm beer. "So here we are. Everything’s been said. Weird, I'd say."

"True. But good." Kayden nodded. His hands weren't trembling so much any more.

For some time now, probably since around midnight, instead of the hard, dynamic music the speakers were seeping lazy, warm jazz and other sensual pieces, relaxing the mood.

"You smoke a lot," Ringo noticed, feeling his stress let him go and his strong emotions slowly die.

"Not really. It's—" Kayden hesitated.

"Stress?" Ringo could read Kayden's thoughts like his own.

The blond boy snorted, giving up, and nodded. "Yeah." He ground out the cigarette in the ashtray and sighed deeply, leaning against the sofa back. "About your girlfriend," he started after a moment, "was she from our school?"

"No. We live close to each other."

"So how long have you been together?"

"Three months. Not very long."

"Is she pretty?"

"That's a good question." Ringo hesitated. "Uhm...not really, ya know? She's just cool. I liked her. I really liked her. It's not easy to find someone who’s for real."

"What does that mean, 'for real'?" Kayden looked at Ringo with curiosity.

"It means you're a good match. That...ooooh, it's difficult to say this late at night, with such a high blood alcohol count." Ringo laughed, shaking his head and wiping his face with his hands. He didn't feel drunk any more, his strong emotions having worked like cold water, but at that hour he was definitely worn out and far from his usual sharpness.

"Sometimes it's good just to have fun." Kayden gave a point to his attitude.

Ringo shrugged, arching his lips dismissively. "Dunno, I never treated it that way. Besides, I was never a popular guy."

"C'mon, are you blind?" Kayden sounded surprised. "Lucy said you were hot."

"Lucy who?" Ringo tried to recall any girl he might know named Lucy.

"A chick from my previous class."

"Oh." Ringo closed his eyes and after a moment's thought he asked, "Am I?"

"Don't ask me, man." Kayden shrugged. "That's what she said."

"Hehe!" Ringo laughed, not really knowing what seemed so funny. "If we had a bet now, would you kiss me, lil' chicken?" It came out of the blue, as a disconnected teasing thought. He didn't even look at Kayden, keeping his eyes closed as he half-lay on the sofa, enjoying his joke.

Kayden's eyes rested on Ringo's careless face. Taken by surprise, he was slightly confused. For a long while the boy analyzed the interesting physiognomy of his dark-haired friend, bathed in a faint red light, his long, girlish eyelashes casting ragged shadows on his cheeks, and smooth lips parted in a roguish smile.

The saxophone echoed between the stone walls, sensual and enticing, the hypnotic rhythm pulsating like a heartbeat. Vanessa Lancaster, in a soft, erotic voice, was asking someone to touch her...slowly...ssssslowly....

Kayden swallowed loudly before he answered, his voice quiet and husky. "Maybe."

"What, wanna get another sexy tattoo? Let's make it a butt now. What do you say?" Ringo laughed, opening his eyes and giving Kayden a provocative look. But as soon as their eyes met, Kayden's expression made Ringo's laugh die. A faint smile remained on his face for a couple more seconds, as a weak memory of fun, then faded completely. Suddenly the boy felt uncertain, sensing that something unexpected had happened; he just couldn't define it.

Ringo didn't say anything when Kayden slowly rose and leaned towards him, kneeling on the sofa. He didn't react when he saw gray, misty eyes so close above him and felt Kayden's sour tobacco breath on his face. He didn't do anything; his heart just went mad, fluttering powerfully as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. Blood rushed to his head, making his temples pulse and turning his cheeks red and hot. His lungs suddenly became too small to deliver the huge amounts of air his body demanded, and his breathing grew loud and fast. Involuntarily he squeezed his mouth to keep in everything that might escape from inside. What might escape, he couldn't tell, but make no mistakes—things were boiling and stirring up inside him that were just looking for a chance to go wild.

"Ten...kiss me on the lips."

Ringo didn't draw back when hot, sour lips impatiently nibbled his upper lip. His mind simply shut down when that wet softness clung to his mouth, taking possession of it. Instinctively he gave in to the kiss, drinking and devouring those trembling lips like he had never even imagined he could do, mindlessly and hungrily.

Driven by desire that came too unexpectedly for Kayden to stop it, the boy climbed onto the sofa and pinned Ringo to its back with his weight. His body yearned for contact and searched for it, cuddling against Ringo's thighs, arms, chest...wherever was good, yet nowhere was enough. His tongue forced its way in a rush between Ringo's lips and slipped inside, feverishly trying to get as far as possible. There was no technique to it, no seduction, no studied tricks; just pure desire. Kayden wasn’t trying to impress anyone; he didn't care if he was good at what he was doing. He succumbed to the sincere, overwhelming need to sweep up all of Ringo, to burst deep inside the boy, whatever that was supposed to mean, and at the same time to absorb him like one absorbs alcohol. He just couldn’t get enough, squeezing into Ringo's mouth almost brutally with his lively tongue, penetrating the inside and dancing a passionate, chaotic and incoherent tango with Ringo's tongue.

"Hold it!"

No...they couldn't hold it.

A wave of violent emotions rolled over Ringo and swept him along like a rapid river. He didn't resist, for the first time in his life going with the flow instead. God, he had never been kissed like that...and he had never kissed like that. His lips opened under the surge of Kayden's demanding tongue and when Kayden pushed it inside, Ringo felt he desperately wanted it all. If asked what did that meant—"all"—he probably couldn't have answered. But what he was getting was still not enough, so he sucked, pulled, devoured, and bent himself to succumb to the magnetic field of Kayden's body. Ringo's hands grabbed Kayden's bright head and squeezed it uncontrollably, pulling it down and crushing their lips together in a crazy, almost painful kiss.

"Nine...run your fingers through my hair."

Kayden slipped his hand under Ringo's back and clasped the boy to his body. His other hand nervously wandered over Ringo's head, neck and face as he tried to drink as much as he could. In blind ecstasy Ringo bit Kayden's lower lip, the blood mixing with their saliva and streaming down their chins. Kayden grunted but didn't break the kiss; he sucked Ringo's tongue until its ligaments started to hurt and two tears ran down Ringo's cheeks. Ringo moaned into Kayden's mouth, but the boy wouldn’t let his voice escape; he swallowed it together with air, blood, saliva and the taste of beer.

"Touch...and go to number one."

The wailing of the saxophone died; the song ended. Swollen lips parted, smeared with blood, mouth panting heavily, voraciously gasping for breath. Two pairs of eyes, full of surprise, fear, and lust, charily and tentatively examined each other. Eventually Kayden grunted quietly and drooped onto the sofa, letting go of Ringo. He hid his face in his hands, still shivering, his heart pounding violently, excitement mixing now with growing fear.

Ringo instinctively licked his lips. The sweet taste of blood caused him to retch slightly. "Fuck," he cursed, and wiped his mouth and chin with aggressive, almost obsessive movements. "What’s with this blood? How...what happened?"

"You bit me. You...didn't feel that?" Kayden slowly examined his lower lip. It hurt.

Ringo said nothing but moaned and covered his head, resting on the sofa's back with his arms. "Wh—why did you do that?" he asked instead in a faltering voice.

"I don't know," Kayden whispered, lowering his head even more and wiping his jaw. He looked at the back of his hand and shook his head with resignation upon seeing the wide scarlet smudge.

"Are you...like your brother?" he heard.

"No. I've never kissed a man before."

"So why?"

"I don't know. You said that about a bet and...." Kayden ruffled his hair nervously, sucking his lip, for the blood was flowing constantly.

"God," Ringo moaned at length.

"Why did you respond?"

"I—" The whisper broke for a second. "You were so persistent."

"Oh, so you blame me? That's—" Kayden shook his head in helpless irritation. "Right. I started it. And I'm sorry. But don't play the victim here. You can't say you didn't want it the least bit, can you?"

Now Ringo bit his lip, embarrassed and angry. He didn't answer. The answer was clear, though: he’d gone just as crazy as Kayden, and they both knew it.

"Fine," said Kayden dryly. "Forget about it. We're drunk, that's it. I'd win the bet, by the way, if we've sealed it, so you almost owe me a tattoo on your ass." He raised his hips, leaning against the sofa with his shoulder blades, and pulled out a wallet from his back pocket. "It's late, man. We should go," he said, leaving $30 on the table and standing up.

Ringo patted all his pockets but found himself broke.

"Shit," he hissed. "Uhm, can you...lend me a few bucks?" he stammered with effort. "I rushed off and didn't take money." His voice was pleading and his face apologetic.

"Sure, how much?"

"Dunno...I drank, like, six glasses?"

"Okay, this should be enough." Kayden threw another crumpled bill onto the table. "My treat," he added and started to the exit.

Ringo followed him, murmuring, "Thanks." Normally he'd object but now he preferred to stay out of troublesome interaction, and every interaction with Kayden was troublesome, actually.

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Ringo came back late, or rather early in the morning. His dignity hadn’t let him take the money Kayden had offered him for a taxi. He had angrily pushed Kayden's hand away, saying, "I don't need it. I don't live too far." It was a lie, so it was already getting light out when he finally threw himself onto his bed, not bothering to take off his clothes or cover himself with a quilt. What a relief that it was Saturday and he didn't have to wake up to go to school.

He was so tired he thought he'd fall asleep right away, as soon as his head touched the pillow. But he didn't. He still couldn't calm down after what had happened. His lips were still swollen, sensitive, remembering the hot kisses, caresses and bites of Kayden's mouth, tongue and teeth. Ringo involuntarily pressed his lower lip with his fingers and felt its softness and a slight pain. He winced and covered his eyes with both hands. Not until now had he realized that his body was locked in the embrace of a terrible tension that didn't want to let go. His nerves were on edge, a hard knot in his guts threatened to upset his stomach upset.

He was too tired to be able to process things logically, yet too jittery to let it go and fall asleep. Over and over again his mind went back to that crazy kiss, and Ringo couldn't help imagining it countless times. He’d never expected the thing to be that mind-blowing and out of control. It had been so passionate it was scary.

With his guts still tied into a knot, and lips hot from the touch whose memory hadn't faded yet, Ringo finally gave up as sleep claimed him.

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