Chapter 2

Oh. God.

Mikey. Just... Stop. I'm begging you. I love you but sometimes you just... Can't. Stop. With the fucking moaning!

You almost punch him in the annoyingly loving face.

Can't he be angry at you? Not the pretend anger, just... Can't he hit you and get it over with? Why all those words...?!

It would have helped. Really. Light punch. Not so much to break your perfect nose, though.

Apparently you called him yesterday to announce you're getting married. Amazing.

Somebody kill me now. Anybody? Help...

"So are you?" he finally stops talking.

Oh sweet Jesus, the silence!

"Am I what?" you drawl, massaging your temples. "I'm definitely late now, if that's what you mean."

But somehow you have a feeling that Michael is concerned about something less important. Utterly annoying little teen is not only not gone, he drank your coffee and proceeded to consume the rest of your Cheerios. Fucking brat.

"If you're asking whether I'm getting married, I'm gonna stop you right there before you say something stupid and I'll have to fulfill the unpleasant, yet necessary, obligation of killing you on the spot."

"Ha. Ha."

"Can I go now?"

You really tried to smile. What you did looked like was... The kind of a face expression that lion makes while preparing for a slaughter? Only more toothy. And evil. Generally the kind that would make Freddy Krueger shit his pants.

"Brian, you have your own company, you can be late."

"When it's justified. Right now I see no reason why I should still be here. Same goes for you." You pointed at the blond, who smiled at you yet again so brightly, his teeth perfect, his lips covered in milk.

Ah, the dirty connotations.

"Get. Out."

"I'm eating!" he pointed at the bowl.

"You can keep it. Keep the fucking shirt! Get. OUT! Get out!"

You pushed him and Michael towards the elevator, closed the loft and angrily pushed the button. The elevator must've been against you as well. After ten seconds you growled and impatiently ran down the stairs.

The annoying teen calmly ate his cereal (your cereal!) and looked at Michael, as if he was a very interesting phenomenon.

"What's his name?"

"His name?" Michael shook his head. "It used to be Brian Kinney."

"Used to?"

The teen had no shame whatsoever, peacefully picking up his clothes and dressing up, oblivious to Michael's stares. He kept the shirt, obviously.

"The older he gets the stronger urge I feel to call him after some crazy cartoon character. I'm deciding between Squidward and Grinch."

Strangest thing occurred to Michael – last night the kid really must have wrapped Brian around his finger with this beautiful laughter.

He looked really hopeful. Michael almost felt bad about this one, having to break it through to his pretty blond head.

"Come on. I can drive you home."

You shouldn't feel guilty about Brian's bad life decisions! Argh!

"No need. I should go to work as well. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"I don't think so, kid. It'll be better for you if you just forget about him."

"Brian? Meh. He'll come around."

Strange kid. It was almost as if he had some crazy plan to...

Oh no, wait. A very familiar, very flashy and definitely not cheap cell phone appeared in blonde's hand. He smiled evilly like he'd just told Mr. Bond he expects him to die.

Okay. Let's rephrase that. He had some crazy, evil plot to... Kidnap? Marry? Seduce... Brian Kinney?