The burst of cold air was a nice welcome home as Torn entered his apartment. As he glanced around his plain, scarcely decorated flat, all the stress from pouring over tedious permits and security issues melted away. The first thing he did after locking his door was head to the bathroom and wash the plug he used earlier to hold in Jinx's semen.

After he was so polite to fucking cum inside me.

It was a bitch, but he managed to sneak down to the public restrooms during his next break and empty most of the trapped jizz in the toilet…keyword, most. He made a mental note to have a private bathroom set up in his office, so he could properly clean himself out after his "breaks".

If Jinx is going to keep "forgetting" to wear a fucking condom, I'm gonna need a place to clean myself out afterwards. I am NOT using those damn public restrooms on the first level again! Not until Ashe hires a fucking janitor.

His stomach lurched in discomfort as the small amount of cum that managed to get WAY up inside him finally made its way out and began dripping down his inner thigh; Torn felt his eye twitch in response.

Next time I'll make that sonofabitch clean me out with his fucking tongue.

He sighed, body slumping slightly from exhaustion. It was a pain in the ass to fix that jizzed-on document, and Kal was an amazing secretary/lieutenant who probably needs a raise…badly.

"Ya need to stop doin' this, Torn. Fuckin' around with people ya don't care for. It aint good for ya."

Torn felt a twinge of pain in his abdominals as what Jinx has said, or rather yelled, bounced around in his head like Daxter after too much coffee.

"You NEED to get out of this loveless relationship with Ashe before ya both get hurt, and ya need to take a chance with Jak."

What the fuck did Jinx know about relationships!? He fucked around just as much as Torn did. At least Torn's only fucking TWO people, scratch that, three. And so what if he hates being "involved" with Ashelin? It's normal for a guy and girl who are THAT close to eventually settle down. Torn may have been a bit "wild" in his youth, and sure he may need a cock in his ass on a regular basis to feel alive, or feel anything, but that doesn't mean he can't eventually happily settle down with his long time best friend and current girlfriend.

This whole "attraction to men" was only ever influenced by teenage hormones. Eventually, his body will calm down and he'll start feeling the attraction to Ashelin that should've been there years ago.

That's right, I'm just going through a phase…

…a 15 year phase…

"If you would just open up to him and honestly admit to yerself that ya like him, then maybe he'll actually feel the same, and you can finally let yerself BE HAPPY!"

….

Who am I kidding? Torn dragged a hand over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as the truth began to shine.

He was miserable with Ashelin.

It wasn't her fault. She is a wonderful girlfriend and any guy would be blessed to have her. She isn't overly demanding, and even though she requests dates and sex, it isn't very often. In fact, she's actually given Torn a lot of space, which only adds to the guilt he feels for being so dishonest with her. Torn didn't have any reason to be unfulfilled with her, except that he couldn't see a life with her.

But could I see one with Jak?

Like I thought I saw one with E-

Torn stood and stripped out of his uniform, throwing it in the hamper before turning on the shower and stepping under the spray. He needed a distraction in the form of boiling hot liquid burning his skin, before any unpleasant thoughts surface. He cranked the heat as high as it would go, hoping the searing water would keep those memories at bay. He quickly undid the ties that adorned his dreads and pulled the soft, chestnut strands away from the spray for the time being. As the hot water beat into his skin, and the building fog enveloped him, he came to a conclusion, maybe Jinx has a point. This thing with Ashelin is never going to go anywhere, and even if it does, it'll just end badly…for both of us.

As he was brought back to reality, Torn turned the heat down to a lukewarm temperature so he could clean his hair. He grabbed his special shampoo and gently worked the cleaner against his scalp, taking care not to unravel the thick locks.

After deciding that he was sufficiently clean, inside and out, He stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Looking in the mirror once, he already saw the ends of his dreads begin to curl upward and a few loose strands stick out mockingly. He sighed in defeat, he was never able to get his hair to do what he wanted, which was why he always had dreads, and even then his hair still gave him shit.

Curse of having Icelandian genes I guess…

He grabbed a smaller towel and squeezed out the wet strands a bit before allowing them to air dry. The dreads always looked nicer after being cleaned, full and shiny, which was something he would never be able to achieve with any other hairstyle.

Moving into his bedroom, he changed into an oversized T-shirt that always managed to slide off one shoulder, much to his annoyance, and his favorite pair of boxer-briefs. Oh, he loved this pair. They were black, not too long and not too short, resting on his hips and coming down a few inches above the middle of his thighs, and tight in all the right places. He smiled as he checked himself out in his bedroom mirror, I fucking love these. They make my ass look pretty nice. He jutted out a hip and made a saucy pose, I should've been a model.

Too bad those ugly tattoos fucked up your face.

The smile vanished as quickly as it appeared and Torn silently exited the room, trying his best to avoid seeing his reflection again, guess that's enough self-appreciation for one night.

He made his way to the kitchen and opened his fridge, Wonder if I got any leftover curry. I made it like two days ago, should still be good. He finally located the green concoction in the back and took it out. After popping it in the heater for a few minutes, he took it to his balcony and sat down on an old loveseat just outside under the metal awning. His apartment may have been small and his furniture may have been old, but the one reason Torn would never leave this apartment was his balcony and the view he got from it.

His apartment was right in the center of New Haven on the fifth floor of the complex. From it, he got a beautiful view of the city. On his left, he could see the port and barely make out the annoying orange glow from the Naughty Ottsel's giant effigy of Daxter. Despite the jokes, Torn really did like the sign with its ottsel head. There was something charmingly moronic about its soft orange glow and devilish grin that made him feel welcome. In other words, Daxter did a great job; and I will take that compliment to my grave.

Directly in front, he could see the stadium and right next to it on the right, he could see the slums. Mostly it was under construction, like the water slums were, and in its place would be beautiful homes for the citizens, instead of filthy holes.

Oh, you mean like the one YOU came from?

Torn stared down into his bowl of curry, and the vegetables seemed to stare back at him through the spicy green sauce. He just started to realize that most of the things he owned, and all of the recipes he followed, were from his parents, from home. He sighed and sat back, scooping some of the food in his mouth. Huh…it's a bit off. Wish dad wrote down his damn recipes. He closed his eyes and let out a small, sad laugh, He NEVER followed a recipe. THAT'S what made his food special.

He could smell the spices before he pushed open the door. As soon as he opened the cracked and dirty door, the smell of curry surrounded him, and the memory of the beating he just took on the way home from school seemed to fade away. He tiptoed past the kitchen, holding his bloody nose and split lip, hoping he could make it to the restroom and clean up before he noticed.

He was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.

"Torien?"

He froze and sheepishly looked up at his father's face. The ice-blue eyes stared down at him and softened when they landed on his face, "Ah, mijro," He looked past Torn, into the kitchen, before he scooped him up and carried him away to the bathroom, "Best not to let Mahma see. We don't want her to worry." Torn was placed on the cracked, stone counter near the sink as his father grabbed a nearly empty green eco pack. His father's hands were cracked and bruised from the grueling work he did at the factory every night, but somehow, they were still gentle and warm.

Those warm and gently hands quickly cleaned up the blood and applied the eco to the wounds, "What happened Torien? Was it that Jinx brat again? Because I swear to Mar if that no good punk is hurting you again-"

"It wasn't him, Papa." It was…but Torn didn't want to make his father worry; that , and everyone knew what happened to snitches, "No one did it…I fell off the bridge into the ditch." His father raised a hairless brow and crossed his arms, "Torien. You know better than to lie to me, mijro." Torn just stared at his feet. His father sighed and resumed tending to Torn's wounds. Torn knew he couldn't lie to his Papa, his Papa could read people like a newspaper. Torn watched his father's nimble hands bandage the cuts, then a question came to his mind, "Papa, what's an 'icer'?"

When he looked up, he saw an expression on his father's face that he had never seen before. It was a nearly indistinguishable mix of shock, anger, and sorrow. "Where did you hear that word!?" Torn looked away, but his father grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at him, "Torien! Where did you hear that word?" Torn tried to think of another lie, but he never saw his father get like this before, so he told the truth, "Jinx said it. He called me an 'icer' when-" He couldn't finish that sentence. He father let out a held-in sigh and stepped back, covering his own mouth with a trembling hand. He just stood there, eyes closed and shoulders trembling slightly for what felt like ten minutes before he picked Torn up and set him on the ground, "Dinner is almost ready, mijro. Go get your brother."

Torn ran out of the room quickly, confusion thick in his mind. That was the first time he ever saw his father get that expression.

He just couldn't understand it…what was so bad about the word 'icer'?

Torn woke up when the alarm next to his head went off. He barely registered that he was in his bed as he sat up, "The fuck?" when did I get here? He rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes as he swung his legs over the side of his bed. That was a weird memory to relive. Of all the memories, why did it have to be THAT one? He trudged over to his bathroom and gripped the counter as he stared in the mirror.

As he went about his morning routine of hair maintenance and dental hygiene, his mind replayed the dream over and over, I forgot that Jinx used to bully me. Heh, it's funny how these things turn out; now he's pounding my ass in a better way. Wonder if he remembers that. I think I'm overdue some 'revenge'. Maybe a nice rimjob will make up for all the busted lips and black eyes.

Torn smirked to himself as he imagined riding Jinx's stubbly lower face into his mattress.

"Ridin' my face…"

"Yep."

"Inta yer mattress…"

"Mmhm."

"…"

Torn took a sip of his coffee as he leaned back in his office chair, absently looking over some documents. Jinx puffed his cigar as he sat in the chair across from him, "Huh, ya know, lookin' back, I'm glad ya gave me a second chance. Considerin' how nasty I was to ya growin' up." Torn shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah well, it's not like you were completely at fault. Your redneck family influenced you at an impressionable time in your life." Jinx grunted out a chuckle as he tapped ashes onto the glass ashtray in front of him, instead of the floor for once, "Yeah, still, 'm glad that I got to know ya; yer a hell of a friend, and a pretty good fuck." Torn let out a snort as he choked on his coffee. He coughed a few times before wheezing, "Seriously? I'm a good fuck?! Just good?! Not amazing, awesome, talented-"

Jinx shrugged, "Well, if yew had some tits on ya…"

Torn rolled his eyes, "Oh fuck you. My pecs are amazing and you know it."

Jinx snickered, "Yeah, if ya like flat chests."

"Says the guy who keeps asking to fuck my pecs," Torn crossed his arms over said pecs and pushed them out slightly to drive his point home.

"…"

"…"

"…touché." Jinx stuck the butt of his cigar into the ashtray before standing up, "Welp, I'm gonna go take care of that scoutin' mission. I'll let'cha know what comes up." As he turned to leave Torn stood up quickly, "Wait, Jinx…" The blonde turned around, an eyebrow quirked curiously. Torn took a deep breath before saying, "About yesterday, look, I'm sorry I snapped at you-"

"Torn-"

"Let me finish…please." Jinx shut his mouth and Torn continued, "You were right. No, you were TOO right. You hit me right where I needed to be hit and I couldn't handle it." He crossed his arms and sighed, "I am miserable, and…I think I may, sorta,…like Jak. I know I shouldn't, but I do. I also know that I need to break it off with Ash before we get too serious. I guess what I'm trying to say is-"

"Apology accepted." Jinx smiled knowingly. Torn returned a genuine smile before sitting back down behind his desk and watching Jinx's retreating form. As he sat in his office, the silence unsettlingly thick, Torn decided that he was going to do what he should have done years ago.