Okay, it is so not fair of me to show up after almost a year with a short and admittedly kind of rushed chapter, but here we are. No excuses, man. No exuses. No promises, either, because I never keep those when it come to fanfiction, either. One promise, however: this story will be done by June 3rd, 2015, because I am not taking this shit to college with me. I started writing this before I even was a sophomore, and I'm going to end it in my senior year, damn it! Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Some good shit happens.

Three o'clock on a Tuesday night in early March and a knocking sound woke Toki up. He rolled over in bed, craning his head to see Skwisgaar waiting at the window, looking impatient and even anxious. Toki sighed and got out of bed, walking to the window and groaning all the while.

"I swears to God if dis is about de sex—" he hissed, doing the latches and helping Skwisgaar climb in.

"It's not about de sex, you dildos," Skwisgaar snapped. Toki pressed a finger to his lips in the shushing motion and closed the window, turning to Skwisgaar with his hands on his hips.

"Wells?" Toki asked.

"Long stories short, uh, Fuckface Academy breaks up and now I's homeless." Skwisgaar fell backwards onto Toki's bed, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, and moaned.

Toki felt the implications run through him—this was bad, this was really, really bad, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. "You can'ts stays here," he said, stating the obvious, and Skwisgaar gave him a look that meant he did not appreciate it. "Sorries, I just wokes up!" He yawned for good measure, stretching his arms high above his head. He then sat beside Skwisgaar, leaning his body against his. "Why doesn't you tell me whats happened."

Skwisgaar told him what had happened, and what had happened was quite the story. The power hierarchy of the band held Mark at the top, then Ritchie, then Skwisgaar, and then George; Ritchie had tried to rally Skwisgaar and George to mutiny against Mark, but they both hated Ritchie and Mark in equal amounts. George, influenced by his new girlfriend and the fact that her dad could hook him up with a job at his copy company, announced that he quit shortly thereafter. Mark threw a fit and wouldn't accept it, even when Ritchie tried to tell him they could just find a new bassist—apparently the band's chemistry had been broken and couldn't be repaired. Skwisgaar had made an attempt at reconciliation while George packed to move out of the apartment and Ritchie smoked crack in the bathroom, but that devolved into a huge argument between Skwisgaar and Mark, with Skwisgaar finally speaking up about the abuse that he felt they had all suffered at Mark's hand, how Ritchie was a prick and George was too spineless to hold the band together. Mark, in hysterics, called Dick, told him the band had broken up and kicked everybody except for himself out of his apartment.

"You knows, Knubbler's roomsmate moved out a whiles ago." That was the first thing that occurred to Toki when Skwisgaar got to the part about Dick. "You coulds probablies calls him and moves in with him."

Skwisgaar dragged a hand down his face; Toki noted the elasticity of his skin, fighting the urge to lean over and kiss him, stick a hand down his pants. Now was not the time. Skwisgaar spoke: "Maybes."

"What's you mean, maybes? De fuck else you's gonna do, bes a homeless person?" Toki wrinkled his nose. "Besides, Dicks ams, like, in de loves with you. He's let you lives dere, I'm sures of it. Calls him right now."

Skwisgaar moaned again, this time in a noncommittal manner.

Toki sighed. "Does you have his number in you's phone?"

"Of courses." Skwisgaar peeked up from his hunched position, sneering at Toki. Toki knew an insult to his intelligence or common sense or whatever would get him to come around.

"Gives to me you's phone, den." Toki jutted a hand towards Skwisgaar.

"Noes."

"And whys not?" Toki jutted a hip out next, tapped his foot. This situation was ridiculous and he was impatient, feeling a tug of tiredness around the corner of his eyes. Skwisgaar was pathetic, sitting on his bed like that, and also arousing, and overall Toki was just too sleepy for this shit.

"A man's phone ams his own personal busy-ness," Skwisgaar said, now looking at Toki in full.

"Ams dere stuff on dere dat I shouldn'ts see?" Toki asked.

"Noes!" Skwisgaar got up off the bed. "Ams just mines private property, dat's all."

Toki narrowed his eyes. He was starting to get concerned—if Skwisgaar asked, he'd hand his phone over in a heartbeat, and here Skwisgaar was, all indignant. He felt his chest tighten. "Just tryin's to helps," he said, malice in his tone.

"Didn'ts comes here for de helps," Skwisgaar muttered, looking off to the side.

"De fucks you comes here for, den? Interrupts mines sleep for de hells of it?"

Skwisgaar snapped his head back at Toki. "No," he hissed. "I comes here because—it's my first fuckin' instincts! To comes to you! And tells you my problems!" He wasn't yelling, but whisper-shouting, remembering Toki's parents lurking in their bed nearby. And though Toki was mad at and annoyed with Skwisgaar at the moment, that action grounded him—reminded him that couples fought, that it was natural, and he didn't love Skwisgaar any less, though he could really do without this dickery.

"Wells, dat's sweet and alls," Toki said. He rolled his eyes, though he didn't mean it. "Buts eithers gives to me your phone or leaves and let me sleeps. Crash with George or somethings for the night."

"George ams homeless too," Skwisgaar said, pouting and crossing his arms like a petulant child. "I think he ams staying de nights at his parents' place and dat ams lames."

"Den fuckings calls Dick already," Toki said, fighting the urge to growl in annoyance. "I has school and chores tomorrow, I can'ts be tireds, Skwisgaar! Dis ams very inconsiderates of yous." Toki crossed his arms, turned his nose up.

"I comes here to tells you my problems and you calls me inconsiderates?" Skwisgaar balked. "De balls on you!"

"Yes, my balls, you's seen dem." Toki rolled his eyes and meant it this time. "And you isn't gonna sees dem again for a whiles unless you makes a decision."

Skwisgaar moaned for a third time, falling back on the bed. Toki sat beside him and ran a hand down his arm, trying to comfort him or coax him into a decision, anything. He ignored the urge to lean over and kiss him for what felt like the fiftieth time tonight, struggling to fight his hormones off when Skwisgaar finally spoke up. "Looks, I'lls go to George's tonight and calls Dick in de mornings. It would be rudes to do it right nows."

Toki made a noise of agreement in his throat and gave in, leaning down to kiss Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar responded, snaking a hand into Toki's hair and pulling him on top of him. They grinded against each other, drained and lazy, as Skwisgaar moved himself farther back on Toki's bed. Toki noticed Skwisgaar was rough tonight and didn't mind—he probably needed it, so he let Skwisgaar bite at him, pull his hair a bit. It was nice, he had to admit, and they hurried to tug their pants down, get their hands on each other's cocks. Toki came with his forehead pressed into Skwisgaar's and his dick in Skwisgaar's hand, his lips feeling raw. He wanted to do something special for Skwisgaar and couldn't think of anything, running his nails up and down Skwisgaar's length to tease him, until he came up with something. He rubbed two fingers of his left hand over the tip of Skwisgaar's cock, leaking precum, and shoved them inside his asshole with no further precedence, biting Skwisgaar's lips when he was about to yelp.

"Wait—ams dis okay?" Toki whispered in Skwisgaar's ear, feeling panicked. Skwisgaar's cock was throbbing in Toki's right hand, but still. He paused the thrusting of his fingers until he got an answer, preparing to withdraw.

Skwisgaar nodded. Toki had once again drawn blood on Skwisgaar's lips; he smiled and lapped at it like a cat until Skwisgaar was close to orgasm, then bent down and lapped at his cock. When he came, he licked him clean, and Skwisgaar just laid there, panting. Toki was a little hard again but chose to ignore it—he was feeling more loving than aroused, curling at Skwisgaar's side, the taste of his cum fresh on his tongue.

"You's—" Skwisgaar began, but did not finish.

"Me's what?"

"You's amazingks."

"Trues." Toki laughed, drawing tighter into Skwisgaar, hugging his upper arm to him and pressing his knees into his hips.

"But I has to leaves." Skwisgaar mumbled this and made no effort to move despite the sentiment. Toki sighed—of course Skwisgaar had to leave, he couldn't say for so many reasons, but it was so easy to forget that in the after-orgasm haze. It took them a few minutes but they got out of bed, put themselves back together, and stood by the window in Toki's room, their hands held between them.

"It ams goin's to be fine," Toki said, punctuating the sentence with a kiss to Skwisgaar's cheek. "You's find a new band no problems."

"Ja, I knows. Just stressed from Fucksface." Skwisgaar pinched the bridge of his nose between the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding Toki's.

"I loves you," Toki said, and this time he pecked Skwisgaar on the lips. He withdrew his hand.

"Whatevers." Skwisgaar peeked down at Toki. He was smiling, and that was good enough.

Toki saw Skwisgaar off and returned to bed, falling back into sleep as soon as his body fell into the sheets. He slept heavily and dreamlessly, waking up later than usual in the morning and dragging himself out of bed groggily and begrudgingly. He went to school and checked his phone several times throughout the day for an update from Skwisgaar and found nothing, biting his lip and jiggling his leg in every class. At lunch, he told his friends what had happened the night before.

"So?" was Nathan's response. "They sucked."

"Nathan!" Pickles turned to him, his eyebrows drawn and mouth puckered. "That's not nice, not nice at all." He returned his gaze to Toki and made a vague hand motion. "Sorry, kid. Your boyfriend's homeless. That sucks."

"He won'ts bes if he takes my advisings," Toki muttered. He crossed his arms. "Wouldn'ts even lets me sees his phone, what's dat about?"

"No, no, no," Murderface moaned, dropping his head to the table. He rolled sideways on his cheek so that he could face Toki. "We are not talking about your dumb schtupid boyfriend problemsch at lunch."

"Homophobe." Pickles stood up and leaned over the table, slapping Murderface's face so he rolled the opposite way. "Seriously, douchebag, what's your problem? Lighten up." He returned to a sitting position and brushed his lap off as a housewife would her apron after disciplining her child.

Nathan steered the conversation away from Toki's boyfriend problems, maybe out of Murderface's benefit, maybe because the subject was a little boring. On some level Toki recognized that, but on most levels Toki was concerned with his boring, stupid boyfriend problems, his head buzzing as he carded through the events of last night to come up with an answer to a half-formed and vague question.

It didn't help that Toki didn't hear from Skwisgaar until the end of the day while he was sitting on the bus, his phone vibrating with the notification of a text message: dik says yes butt i hav 2 pays rent?/

Toki, before the words sank in and the panic burst in his chest, ran his thumb over the screen and across the question mark and forward slashes. Then the panic set in and Toki's eyes blew and he almost dropped his phone in his hurry to text back:

sos! gets a job! IMPOPRANTS! Toki's assigned seatmate, a freshman girl with a snobbish face, seemed to be spying on their texts and suppressed a snigger. Toki glared at her.

not an idiots toki ams lookin on-lines

Toki responded with a promise of call yous when I can and put his phone away, scooting against the window to avoid the glares of the girl beside him. She got off at the next stop and Toki stretched his legs out over the seat, crossing his wrists behind his head and closing his eyes. He was near sleep, fatigued from the night before, but hung onto the edges of consciousness, floating in and out of an aware doze.

He was forced to awaken when the bus lurched into his stop. He got off, thanking the bus driver, and started on the way to his house. Worry filled him, both about going home and about Skwisgaar, and so he veered left when he should've turned right and headed to the neighborhood park. Elementary school children would not yet be home, and he could call Nathan and ask him to have his parents call Toki's and say he was with them. Thus, Toki could steal a few hours of precious time alone. He only wish that he had his skateboard.

At the park, Toki wrapped his legs around the monkey bars and hung upside down. The monkey bars were unusually high, but half of his hair still fell in a pile on the ground. He dug his cell phone out of his shorts and called Nathan; Nathan agreed to have his parents call Toki's. Then, on impulse, he dialed Skwisgaar's number.

"Whats?" Skwisgaar asked, picking up on the second ring. He sounded like he just woke up, even though they'd just been texting.

"I has some free times," Toki says. "Ams at de park in mines neighborhood—"

"Bes right dere!" And Skwisgaar hung up.

Toki swung back and forth on the monkey bars, observing the upside-down world that he inhabited. He let his cell phone fall to the weird tar ground beneath him and shut his eyes. There was a slight breeze, birds chirping in the distance, his legs strong enough to hold him without a problem on the monkey bars. Maybe he was postponing the inevitable by not going home, but in these few hours of peace he thought he might be able to live an eternity.

When Skwisgaar arrived Toki had moved from hanging off the monkey bars to sitting on top of them; the blood rushing to his head had gotten to be too much. Skwisgaar propped his eyebrows when he spotted Toki and wasted no time in climbing on top of the monkey bars himself, letting a faded black knapsack drop the ground along with Toki's backpack and his phone. Skwisgaar was dressed particularly well today, a thin black tank-top and low-hanging skinny jeans two sizes too big, held in place with a belt. Toki greeted him with a deep kiss when he was situated beside him.

"Helloes to you too," Skwisgaar said when Toki pulled back. Toki smiled at him.

"Does you thinks dat we coulds fucks on de monkey bars?" Toki asked. He'd been thinking about it while he waited for Skwisgaar and was a little hard, the blood in his body confused about where to go.

Skwisgaar considered it, pressing a finger into his plump bottom lip in a way that did not help abate Toki's growing arousal. "Ams not wise," he said. "Buts."

So, they had sex on the monkey bars. Toki lied on his stomach and hooked his hands and feet around the bars; Skwisgaar did some yoga magic and, using his upper body strength from years of playing the guitar, supported himself while he thrust into Toki, their clothes on and pants pulled down just enough. It was exhilarating, exhibitionist, and it took neither of them long to reach orgasm, Skwisgaar unloading in Toki's ass and Toki coming into his boxers.

"Not dis agains," Toki whined. He jerked under Skwisgaar, going to pull himself up and forgetting he was lying on the monkey bars. He realized his mistake only when it was too late—he was able to save himself by tightening his grip on the bars, his legs slipping through and one bar thrusting into his stomach, but Skwisgaar fell through and landed weirdly on his ankle, six feet below. Skwisgaar shrieked out in pain; it was a sort of feminine screech, Toki noted.

Toki scrambled to get down from the monkey bars and rushed to Skwisgaar's side. In that time Skwisgaar had come to a sitting position and was cradling his ankle, his baggy jeans pushed up to reveal some developing swelling and bruising. "Tokis!" he was hissing, his tongue between his teeth.

"Skwisgaars!" Toki shouted back, because he didn't know what else to do and the black and blue of Skwisgaar's ankle was making him a little sick.

"I doesn't have de insurances," Skwisgaar said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It ams hurtingks real bad—"

"Ams—Ams gonna calls Pickle!" This was the only thing Toki could think of to do; Skwisgaar just groaned in response. Toki found his phone and dialed Pickles's number; he answered on the second ring, "Pickle, ams Toki and ams in a real pickle," Toki said, glancing around the playground as if the solution was hidden among the swings and the slide somewhere.

"What is it, kid?" Pickles asked. He sounded stone as fuck.

"Skwisgaar falls off de monkey bars—"

Pickles laughed so loud Skwisgaar could hear it, glowering towards Toki while caressing his own ankle. Toki mouthed sorries and waited for Pickles's laughter to subside.

"Ams not funny, Pickle! He ams hurt, he hurts his ankles, he ams not having insurance and we doesn't know whats to do—"

"Hold up. Why was Skwisgaar on the monkey bars?"

"We's uh." Toki lowered his voice. "We ams was havings de sex—"

And Pickles's laughter started up again.

Despite Pickles's apparent amusement at the situation, he arrived half an hour later in the passenger seat of Nathan's truck. Nathan was the only one tall enough to support Skwisgaar as he hobbled into the backseat, his ankle unusable at this point, at least according to him. It hadn't swelled or darkened much since the first few minutes after he fell on it and Toki was skeptical, but he held Skwisgaar's hand and petted his hair in the backseat anyway.

They ended up going to the free clinic, since Skwisgaar didn't have insurance and it was only $50 to see a doctor. It was a two hour wait and Nathan and Pickles bailed on them to go eat at Dimmu Burger; Toki wanted to join them, but stayed with Skwisgaar, holding his hand and tuning out his periodic complaints about the terribleness of America's health care system as compared to Sweden's by focusing on the grainy television mounted in the corner playing the news. There'd been a plane crash somewhere; Toki felt a pang of sympathy for the lost lives that he did not for the whining boyfriend beside him.

"Mr. Skwigelf?" Finally, a nurse with a clipboard appeared, furrowing her brow at Skwisgaar's name. Skwisgaar got up to go in and Toki came with him; she looked at him weirdly. "Who're you?"

"Ams his boyfriends," Toki said, narrowing his eyes at her. She was young and attractive and Toki felt aware of the dead weight of Skwisgaar leaning on his side.

The nurse just rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever, come on."

She led them to a bland room and Toki deposited Skwisgaar on the examining table. Skwisgaar crossed his arms, his legs awkwardly long and feet flat on the ground. Toki sat down in an uncomfortable metal-and-pleather chair across from Skwisgaar, watching Skwisgaar and the nurse.

"We'll take your vitals and the doctor will be with you shortly," the nurse said to Skwisgaar, looking at a clipboard. "You said you have a problem with your ankle?"

"Dat ams corrects," Skwisgaar said, uncrossing his arms so the nurse could clinch a blood pressure cuff around it. Toki felt uncomfortably turned on, watching as the fabric crinkled around Skwisgaar's lean arm and pale skin. He shifted in his seat.

"Blood pressure is 120 over 80. That's literally perfect," the nurse deadpanned. Skwisgaar, of all things, smirked. "Open your mouth." She stuck a thermometer with a plastic cover on it underneath Skwisgaar's tongue, then pulled out. "98.6. That's perfect, too. The doctor will be with you shortly." She deposited the plastic cover on the thermometer in the trash and left the room.

As soon as the door shut, Skwisgaar said, "You hears dat, Toki? Ams perfects."

"You's blood pressures and you's temperature." Toki scoffed. "Dat's barely anthings. Besides, you ams in here because you ams not perfect, remembers? You hurts your ankle." Toki pointed at it.

Skwisgaar sneered at him and laid back on the examining table, his shirt riding up a bit to expose the top of his jeans and his stomach. Toki again felt a weird pang of arousal and busied himself by pulling a magazine out of a wicker basket on the table beside him and reading.

The doctor, who may have been the blandest, whitest guy Toki had ever seen, did not arrive shortly, but after half an hour of further Skwisgaar groans and complaints. He knocked before opening the door; Skwisgaar sat up and rubbed at his eyes while Toki put the magazine back in the wicker basket.

"Mr. Skwigelf," the doctor said as soon as he entered, "What a name. Anyway. What happened to your ankle?" Without further ado, the doctor crouched in front of the examining table and lifts Skwisgaar's jeans up to peer at the ankle in question. When he wraped his hands around the skin, Skwisgaar hisses.

"I fells," Skwisgaar said, simply.

Toki blanched. "He fells off de monkey bars," he corrected, "when we were hangings out and goofings on dem."

"Okay," the doctor said, unconcerned with the proper explanation, though Toki still felt uneasy. (How many times had he explained away an injury by saying he fell? He would never do something like that to Skwisgaar.) "Well, you should probably get some x-rays, Mr. Skwigelf." The doctor stood up and jotted something down on his clipboard. "I'll send a radiologist in."

The radiologist was the only timely one in the entire place, it appeared, because he arrived within a few minutes of the doctor's leaving. Toki was not allowed to follow Skwisgaar into the x-ray room, so he picked his magazine up out of the wicker basket and started reading where he left off. It was an old National Geographic with a special on zebras, and Toki was enjoying the pictures when Skwisgaar and the radiologist returned.

Another long passage of time—Toki had lost count by now, and would have to have Nathan's parents call again so his parents wouldn't get mad—until the doctor walked back in. Skwisgaar and Toki passed the time the same way they had been for the last few hours: Skwisgaar complained and Toki ignored him.

"We've looked at the x-rays," the doctor said, taking a seat by the sink in the room and looking at Skwisgaar.

"Ands?" Skwisgaar asked.

"Your ankle isn't broken. It's not even sprained. It's just bruised. You can walk on it, and you'll be fine in a few days." The doctor sighed and put the clipboard down on the desk.

"Ohs."

"Yeah. You can go now."

And so, far too long later for Toki's liking, when the sun was slipping beneath the horizon and throwing colors across the sky, he and Skwisgaar finally left the clinic. Skwisgaar insisted on leaning on Toki and Toki allowed it, though they were both sour from the long wait and snapping at each other while Toki called Pickles and asked for him and Nathan to come back.

"So where're you staying now?" Pickles asked Skwisgaar five minutes down the literal road to Toki's house. The air in the truck was thick and heavy with frustration.

"George's house," Skwisgaar mumbled. "Needs a job to lives with Dick."

"Makes sense," Nathan said. Pickles glared at him.

The rest of the ride was quiet and by the time Toki got home, it was dark. He filled with dread and trepidation, stealing a kiss from Skwisgaar even if Skwisgaar did not return it because they were pissy, or whatever. There was a reason Toki did not go on these weekday excursions that often, and that reason was that he would still be expected to perform his daily chores, which would push him to stay up past his bedtime and get a terrible night's sleep. He glared at Skwisgaar, cursing him as he got out of the truck, not bothering to say a goodbye to any of the guys even though Pickles shouted one at him.

Wednesday chores were not as difficult as other day's; he had to clean the kitchen, wash the windows and do laundry. But laundry was time-consuming and washing the windows proved difficult in the dark. Toki felt that he'd scrubbed his fingers to their bones after washing dishes and waiting for the laundry to be clean; it was already eight thirty and he was not allowed dinner until he finished his chores. He was exhausted and aware that he was not going to get any homework done, falling asleep with his wrists plunged in dishwater.

So it could be said that Toki was not feeling fondly of Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar did not come to visit Toki that night and that was fine by Toki, cocooning himself in his blankets in his dark room. He'd gone to bed without dinner that night because his father deemed his chores rushed and unsatisfactory, Toki sentenced to a lash across the back. Everything hurt and Toki was tired, so tired, he let the wave of sleep claim him without complaint.

"God, you look miserable," was Nathan's warm greeting at school the next day, milling around with the group and waiting for classes to start.

Toki shut him up with a piercing look.

As usual in time of duress, Toki turned to Pickles. They split off from the rest of the guys at lunch after Toki requesting to do so in fourth period, sitting outside in the hallway where Toki had had so many crises previously. Toki was sent to school without lunch, too, and Pickles split the Publix sub he'd brought in two with Toki, lettuce on their lips as they talked.

"Skwisgaar's a drama queen," Pickles said, after Toki finished complaining about Skwisgaar, his drama, how he made him be late and his ankle wasn't even broken. "You just gotta get used to that."

"I knows," Toki sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "But what abouts de phones things?"

"Do you think he's cheating on you?"

"What?" Toki sputtered. "Noes! Da tams ridiculouses! He tolds me he loves me!"

"Alright, alright, calm down, kid." Pickles wiped his mouth, getting rid of mayonnaise that had collected there. "Some guys just like their privacy. You haven't been dating that long."

"But we ams in love, Pickle," Toki said, blinking his eyes at him.

Pickles sighed and ruffled Toki's hair. "Look, Skwisgaar ain't gonna apologize. He's too proud for that and in his mind, he's done nothing wrong."

"I misses him alreadys," Toki sighed, moved past his anger and in a point of all-consuming sadness. Or maybe that was the lack of energy from his lack of food, Pickles's sandwich not yet hitting his stomach. Whatever it was, these words coming out of Toki's mouth gave him an idea. "Be rights back!"

Toki dashed into the nearest bathroom, thinking about the time he'd had phone sex with Skwisgaar, and pulled his phone out. Instead of anything naughty, though, he took the best selfie he could with the lack of front camera and texted it to Skwisgaar, captioning it I MISSES YOU! I'S SORRY! XOXOXOXOXO. He waited in the bathroom, heart slamming with nerves, until Skwisgaar responded.

It was a dick pic, of course, the caption me toos, but in Skwisgaar's language that was an I love you. Feeling satisfied, Toki left the bathroom and returned to lunch.

The weekend came and, according to what Skwisgaar had said on the phone when they talked, Skwisgaar had been unable both to come to Toki's window and to look for a job because of his ankle. Toki came to him instead that Saturday, getting a ride with Nathan. George lived only ten minutes away from Toki, also in the nice part of town, in an elegant two-story home with a sports car and a mommy-ish SUV parked outside. Toki was a little nervous, afraid George's parents will answer, but instead it was George himself, heavy bags under his lidded eyes.

"God, tell me you're here to get him off my couch," George deadpanned, leading Toki inside.

The house reminded him of Charles's, in that it was very nice and very beige with a very similar floorplan. Skwisgaar was where George said he would be: on a plush cream-colored couch, his ankle propped up on the glass coffee table with an ice pack tied to it, wearing loose black boxer shorts and a wife-beater. His guitar was in his lap, but Skwisgaar was not playing it; in fact, he appeared to be asleep, snoring with a jerk as Toki entered the room.

"Ugh, Skwis, wake the fuck up," George said, shaking Skwisgaar by the shoulder while Toki just stood there, horrified at the state of his boyfriend.

Skwisgaar groaned something in Swedish and swatted George's hand away, his head rolling and eyes not even opening.

"Skwisgaars! Ams me!" Toki hissed, coming to his side. He kicked him in his uninjured shin.

That woke Skwisgaar up, his fingers playing a furious fret as he came to. "Tokis," he muttered, still not all there yet, "de fucks am yous doingks here?"

"Ams getting yous a job and offs de couch, assholes!" Toki said. He kicked Skwisgaar's shin again, for good measure.

"But mines ankles!" Skwisgaar whined, fingers moving over the guitar. Behind the couch, George rolled his eyes.

"Fucks you's ankles!" Toki shoved it off the cushion on the coffee table; Skwisgaar forgot to whimper until a few seconds after that. "Sees? Amns't hurts! You's using it as an excuse because you don'ts wants to gets a job!"

"It's like that one Offspring song," George offered. "Hey, man, why don't you get a job? I'm being serious. Get a job and get out of my house."

"Don't quotes dat shit band's lyrics at me!" Skwisgaar yelled. "And stays out of dis! It ams betweens me and Tokis!" He was coming to his feet now, putting his weight on the uninjured ankle, and resting his guitar gently on the couch.

"No, it's kind of between me, too. This is my house."

"Fuck's you hosue, den!" Toki yelled, also. George was unimpressed, and then Toki felt bad. "Wait, noes sorries, dis ams a very nice house and I ams sures your moms is a very nice ladies—"

"When'd my mom come into this?"

"I doesn't know! It ams all Skwisgaar's fault! Comes on, Skwisgaars, we ams getting' yous a job."

Skwisgaar groaned and grumbled but allowed himself to be pulled by the arm by Toki. George followed them, and Toki was at the front door before he realized that Skwisgaar was wearing boxers and his hair was a mess, and he shouted in frustration. Skwisgaar jerked his arm out of Toki's grip and mumbled something about going to take a shower, but Toki stopped him.

"You wills puts on a pair of pants and puts you's hair in a ponytail," Toki said, stern. He was sort of giddy, even if Skwisgaar was being a dick at the moment, happy to direct him. He was even giddier when Skwisgaar complied, disappearing for a few minutes and reappearing with his hair in a ponytail and a pair of black skinny jeans and his trademark white Converse on his body.

"That's amazing," George said to Toki, wide-eyed.

Toki crossed his arms and nodded, smug.

At the request of Toki, Nathan had waited outside George's house and promised to drop Skwisgaar and Toki off downtown for job-hunting purposes. "Hurry up, guys," Nathan growled while they were getting into the backseat, "I can't miss my date with Rebecca."

Rebecca was Nathan's new girlfriend, a cheerleader that Toki thought was kind of a bitch. Nathan had switched from eating lunch with the guys to eating lunch with her at the cheerleader's table with a couple of other football guys. Football season was long dead, but that mentality stuck around. Everybody was a little annoyed by this development, a little concerned, nobody more so than Pickles, but Nathan told them that, hey, getting laid was getting laid. Rebecca called Nathan as they drove, ushering an awkward air into the car, Skwisgaar and Toki making faces at each other to comment on various parts of the conversation.

Skwisgaar and Toki left Nathan's truck in the shopping and restaurant district downtown. Toki was always seeing HELP WANTED and NOW HIRING signs there, always wishing he could get a job, so he figured this would probably be the best place for Skwisgaar to find a job. They walked up and down the avenues, holding hands, Skwisgaar picking up applications at every place with a sign proclaiming an opening in the window. When they were done with that they headed down by the water, sitting on the seawall and Toki helping Skwisgaar with his job applications.

"Dis ams so stupids," Skwisgaar moaned. "So lames! I doesn't want to sells knicks-knocks!"

"You has to, though," Toki said, taking the application that was in Skwisgaar's lap and uncapping the pen they'd been passing back and forth with his teeth. Toki had a much better grip on English and, after Skwisgaar failed at failing out the first job application, had been doing them for him. The employer wouldn't know the difference between their handwriting, after all. "Dis one wants to know you's favorite memory."

"Fuckins you." Skwisgaar sneered. Toki just looked at him. "Fines, fines! Gettingks my first guitars!"

Toki wrote down My most favored memory was getting my first guitar. and asked Skwisgaar to elaborate.

"I was thirteens and in Sweden. I went to dis school dat had a music program dat gave poor kids instruments and taught dem how to play dem. Dey told me I could plays de guitars, de trumpets, or de pianos, and I chose de guitars." Skwisgaar was looking out into the water, head turned away from Toki, and Toki paused in translating these sentences to turn Skwisgaar's head towards him. Skwisgaar was sort of weepy in the eyes, not crying but close, the blue bluer.

"Skwisgaars," Toki said, and still holding Skwisgaar's chin, he kissed him.

When they finished with the job applications they retraced their steps and dropped them off. One was for the sex store Skwisgaar had taken Toki on their first date, which brought back a flood of emotions, most prominent of them arousal. Skwisgaar went to buy something and Toki stopped him, telling him he needed to save money, now that he didn't have any form of income. "I's gettingks a jobs soon, doe, Toki."

"You doesn't know dat for sure," Toki admonished, and moving his hand from Skwisgaar's wrist to interlock their fingers, they exited the store hand-in-hand.

It took a week for Skwisgaar to hear back from his applications, and from then on he had a barrage of interviews. Toki was unable to help Skwisgaar, so instead Skwisgaar spent a lot of time with Dick, who said he was good at talking. It must have paid off because in another week Skwisgaar had a new job: working the cash register at a local bakery.

This job came with a uniform that, the first time Toki saw it, made him spill giggles into his hands. Skwisgaar had to wear a dainty apron with scalloping around the edges and a clear visor with his hair in a ponytail—it looked ridiculous on him, though Toki liked the overall aesthetic. But, this job also came with a paycheck, and Skwisgaar was able to move in to his apartment. He did so that weekend, when Nathan's truck and Toki were available.

Not having been in America that long and not that interested in anything besides his music, Skwisgaar did not have a lot of possessions to his name. His wardrobe—composed of jeans, tank-tops, oversized t-shirts, three pairs of shoes (beat-up white Converse, combat boots and a recent purchase, classic white and black Adidas) and the Swedish belt buckle on the plain belt—fit into two cardboard boxes. His other nonmusical things were another box full of a variety of detritus—earrings, notebooks, pictures, odds and ends—and the fish he had bought at the pet store, somehow alive and well and swimming happily in his bowl. Toki was entrusted with the fish; Skwisgaar carried everything else to Dick's apartment himself, taking a few trips back and forth from Nathan's truck.

"Well, dat's all," Skwisgaar said, standing on the sidewalk and squinting in the sun, to Nathan. "Thanks for de truck."

"No problem, man. Bye." And Nathan drove off.

Skwisgaar and Toki returned to the apartment, then just stood in the middle of it, looking at each other. Dick was not expected back for a while and they had nowhere to be themselves. Toki, an idea coming to mind, turned to Skwisgaar. "Let's breaks this place in."

"You means—" Skwisgaar quirked both his lip and his eyebrow.

"A blanket forts!"

Half an hour later and they had constructed a formidable blanket fort, using every blanket in Dick's apartment (he was a blanket guy, it seemed, and they kept finding them everywhere), the couch and some miscellaneous chairs. They raided Dick's kitchen and found some snacks and also some weed, which they brought into the blanket fort with them. Even with the lights on, it was dark and warm inside their blanket fort, and Toki wished he had some fairy lights to string up and a laptop so they could watch Netflix. But they did not, so instead they smoked their weed and ate their snacks, lazily making out in the interim.

Making out evolved, of course, to sex, Skwisgaar fucking Toki in long, lazy strokes against the soft, plush blanket they'd put down to form the floor of their blanket fort. Toki ended up coming on it, which he did not realize was a problem until a few minutes later, when the stain dried and became quite apparent.

"Fucks," Toki groaned, seeing it. "We needs to clean dat—"

Skwisgaar looked at him like he was talking gibberish. "Whats? Noes. Ams goingks to sleep." He rolled away from the stain and started snoring gas if on cue.

Toki smacked him. "Noes, Skwisgaar!" He struggled with words, and then realized that he was stoned as fuck in addition to being tired and hazy post-orgasm. This was a disaster; maybe he should call Pickles. Would Pickles know how to do laundry? What was he thinking? Toki knew how to do laundry, he did it every Wednesday. "We's goin's to the laundry room."

"Noes," Skwisgaar moaned, between snores. "Dere's creeps down there."

"It ams, like, four in de afternoon," Toki said, rubbing at his eyes. "No creeps do de laundry now."

"All de creeps do de laundry now," Skwisgaar protested, rolling to face Toki. His lips were drawn into a pout, which made Toki burst out laughing.

Toki stopped himself, though, remembering the situation. "Looks—doesn't know how to say dis right now—it will be a good gestures! To shows Dicks! Dat you ams appreciating de apartment and—it ams our responsibilities!" He went from giggly to the verge of tears, feeling like getting the semen out of Dick's plush baby blue blanket was the most important thing in the world right now.

A crying Toki proved persuasive, and so he and Skwisgaar disassembled the blanket fort, dumping everything in the middle of the living room (they had good intentions, but were a bit too incapacitated to clean properly.) Skwisgaar bundled the blanket in his arms and they headed downstairs to the laundry room (which was empty, no creeps in sight), where Skwisgaar promptly dumped the blanket into the washing machine and closed the lid.

"Uh, Skwisgaars?" Toki said. Skwisgaar was staring at the laundry machine, expectant. "Has you ever dones de laundry before?"

"Of course!" His tone Toki that he had not.

Toki groaned and rubbed his forehead. His fucking boyfriend, man. He went through the motions of teaching Skwisgaar to do laundry, explaining to him that this was important now that he was sort of living on his own and that Dick could not be expected to do his laundry for him. Toki didn't even want to know how he did it before, and they ended up sitting on top of the other washing machine and making out while the blanket tumbled away.

Dick was back in the apartment by the time the blanket was laundered, standing behind the couch and staring down at the pile of blankets nnd chairs occupying his living room floor. When Skwisgaar and Toki entered the apartment, Skwisgaar opening the door with his own key, Dick looked up at them. "Guys," he said, exasperated.

"Sorries," Skwisgaar said. He walked over to Dick and dumped the blanket on his feet. "Washed de cum out of you's blankets, doe."

"That was my favorite," Dick groaned.

Toki giggled. This was going to be good.