2

The buzz in the hallways was something he didn't pay attention to that often, but that day, it was impossible to ignore. The only person who seemed unaware of all the chatter behind his back was, in fact, the man himself; and Chris had no clue whether he felt sorry for him or he was just superafraid the same thing might happen to him. Either way, he had heard the details about what had happened to him. Everyone had been asking questions to the other two dudes, and Chris had stepped to them and had joined the rest. It was the first time he had ever spoken a word to them.

'When will he be back?'

The blonde one had shrugged. 'Next Monday, next Tuesday.'

'So he will be okay?'

'Yeah, I guess so.'

Chris had stayed around for a moment to hear what the others had to ask. Mostly, they wanted inquiries about the amount of blood Dave had lost, or the seriousness of his injuries. Chris cringed, visualising some guy kicking in that face. How could he just be standing here? He wanted to go to the hospital, buy him some strawberries- would that be too gay? Maybe a card would be better? In the midst of his thinking, he overheard a couple of girls discussing how hate crimes were happening more and more often in the neighbourhood. One of them mentioned, under her breath, how she had always thought Dave looked like a guy that would get beaten up in a hate crime. Chris's heart- he didn't know what was happening to it exactly. It had a shock that sent sudden relief through his veins. Then it fell down again in deep sympathy, but before it hit the bottom, it would shoot back into the sky, where it remained. The tension in his body was so strong, he hardly noticed himself walking to class and turning a pen around in his hands. His head was in a mess even as he went back home.

Dave, he scribbled on a card he had bought in a store close to his apartment. How to go on from there? He shut his eyes for a moment, then wrote the rest. Hang in there. You can do it.

Leaving it unsigned, he made one of his dad's men deliver it at the hospital. He didn't know the state Dave was in right now, but he was just hoping he would read it soon, wondering where it came from. Wow...he could hardly believe what he had done just now.

Dave came back. It took him some time, but he came back; with brand new scars. Chris's dreams got worse, changing into some stupid story in which he saved Dave from the guys who had beaten him up, after which they made out and had sex. In reality, things were a lot more boring. Chris kept on buying the comics Dave was reading, and still could not find the courage to speak with him. And then, unexpectedly, Kick-ass arrived, putting everything into chaos.

Chris, being quite caught up in this whole superhero thing, was fascinated by Kick-ass. He couldn't believe someone had actually done it: put on a stupid suit and try to beat up some losers from the streets, and get away with it. People were all over this news. It was all the guys at the comic store could talk about. As usual, Chris didn't give in to his desire to sit down and talk with the others, and only listened from a small distance, with a comic in his hands. Sometimes, Kick-ass would even be a featured news item and would be on the tv in the store. He had seen Dave and his friends there once, watching it. Two girls had joined their small posse. Chris had grinned when he had figured out why Katie was sitting next to Dave. But there wasn't much time to consider Dave, his sexual orientation, his relationship with Katie and Chris's obsession for him. Before long, his dad was having meetings more often than before. He seemed to be in a lot of stress. He was very quiet at breakfast. Chris overheard an argument between him and his mother. In short, things weren't going well with his business. As usual, Chris wanted to know what was going on and learn how his dad ran his company, but his dad obviously didn't take him all that seriously. As if Chris didn't know what sort of goods his dad was trading. As if he didn't know how nasty it could get. The walls were thin, and Chris had understood soon enough, perhaps even at ten years old, what his dad's clever code words really meant. And since he had no significant talents or interests (other than comics and Dave), the only profession available to him was his father's. And if he would never make him his apprentice, what would he do? Where would he go? Next to that problem, he was sick of being talked to like a fucking six-year old. 'Why don't you go practise your martial arts, Chris?' 'Go and help your mom with diner, Chris.' In the bathroom, he would mimic what his dad had said to him, planning how he would respond the next time. Sadly, whenever he looked into his dad's eyes at a moment like that, he lost his will to argue against him, and just retreated to the gym or his room.

But after the incident of the murdered Kick-ass imposter, Chris just couldn't shut up any longer. His dad had thrown his bowl of cereal across the room, then running back to his office, swearing all the way. Chris had looked his mother in the eyes.

'Just leave him,' she said. 'He'll be alright.' But Chris saw she didn't believe that herself.

He got up and ran after his dad, where he explained how he should be dealing with this Kick-ass. Not by shooting him through the head in open daylight, for god's sake, but by tricking him and making him walk into a trap. Awesome as the guy might be, he just couldn't let him ruin his dad's business and his family along with it. This was the perfect plan. Chris was sure of it. He had never wanted to do anything as badly as this. He had thrown his sketches (which he had made with help of a few Spiderman and Avengers issues after Kick-ass had made him think about what kind of a superhero he wanted to be himself) on his dad's desk, awaiting his reaction. He knew the outfit he had sketched for himself after he had heard of Kick-ass was a bit extreme, but hell, nobody would know it was him, right? When his dad gave a nod of approval, Chris's heart jumped. And this time, it wasn't a jump of tension and uncertainty; it felt a bit like excitement. It meant that he would get the suit. Even better: it meant that he would get the car. Holy shit, even thinking that his outrageously over the top request was about to be granted made him grin like an idiot. He was wondering what Kick-ass would be like. He wasn't too sure about the public appearance his dad had said he would have to make, though.

All his doubts disappeared the moment his suit was delivered. There was a knock on the door by one of the maids, and there was a package in front of his door. Chris jumped through his room, ripping the plastic off of the cardboard box. Then, when he found the gorgeous black mask on top of the outfit, his grin grew to ridiculous proportions and he couldn't stop staring at it. He put it on in front of his big closet mirror. The moment he looked himself in his dark-lined eyes, it was as though a new dimension was opening up for him, and everything in the world was within his reach. Goddamn, he looked incredible. As quickly as he could, he put on his suit and strapped himself up in his belt. The boots had come in a seperate box. The metal on them looked sickeningly cool. It was almost as if he was a real evil villain. The gloves were next, and god, when he gave himself a quick look in the mirror, he just couldn't believe this was him. The wig was a bit difficult to put on the right way, but after a few minutes of practise, Chris thought it wouldn't fall off anymore. But the cape was the finishing touch. It was official: he was a fucking stud. A mysterious emo boy, a goddamn vampire.

'Looking good,' he whispered to his reflection. 'Looking good.'

He stared at himself a little longer, but he forgot about it when his dad walked into the room without knocking. Without fear, he looked in his eyes. Whatever he would say about his superhero outfit, he would ignore it; he loved his new look and he would stand by it. There was nothing that could stop him from doing that interview tomorrow afternoon. But to his relief, his dad just nodded. It wasn't a happy nod, or a proud nod. But it was enough for Chris.

'The car's in,' was all that he said.

'You're kidding me!' Chris said happily, and ran downstairs without a second thought. He was glad his dad hadn't followed him to the parking lot, because Chris was hopping up and down, clapping his hands and screaming like a girl when he saw his brand new, shiny ride.

That night, in a good mood, he decided to go to the place where the hip people at school always went on Saturday. Of course, the Mist Mobile was not to be revealed yet, so he had to leave it in its place in the guarded parking lot and let their driver take him there. He had been there before, but it was different tonight. As he fixed his shirt in the bathroom mirror, he actually felt really good about himself. He was more than just Frank D'Amico's loser son, more than a gay comic nerd. He knew it was wrong of him to think what was going through his mind right now, but he couldn't help it. Imagining holding Dave Lizewski close to his chest after saving his ass with the Mist Mobile was something he couldn't possibly have escaped from. Maybe he was here? Chris smiled at his silly thoughts. Well, he could dream. He walked out of the men's room, back into the loud noise of the dancefloor. It was a good night. Most of the guys in his year seemed to be there. Hey, wasn't that the dude with the glasses from Dave's gang? Damn. Just as he was going over the lines he would say to Dave, would he, by chance, find him here, his eyes found the familiar curls and the beloved glasses with a shock. But the lips he had kissed so often in his dreams were now gently touching the cheek of somebody else, a girl with long, brown hair: Katie.

There they were, standing against a wall, coloured lights flashing on and off. Standing perfectly still, feeling the earth crumble beneath his feet, Chris stared at his sweetheart, passionately making out with that skank, his hands on her hips. He was as tender as could be, kissing her so sweetly Chris was afraid he was going to throw up. He felt hot tears rolling out of his eyes as people walked in to him. He didn't even notice them.

The worst thing about it was that they looked so happy, so in love. They were almost glowing; their presence lighting up the entire room. There wasn't any doubt about it: this guy couldn't possibly like boys more than he liked girls. And now he had one of the best-looking girls at their school (according to the guys). Most likely, he would never even look at anybody else again. Let alone a fat, ugly, rich bastard like him. He had never been fit to be with Dave. He looked better with a small, slim, pretty girl by his side. What had he been thinking? Had he honestly believed Dave would have let him kiss him one day?

Dave was so beautiful in the blue light. Those soft curls and that small smile was the sight that made Chris lose it. He just couldn't take any more of this bullshit. Stumbling and nearly falling on his face, Chris was able to get out of there and get back on the street. He saw some classmates standing on the pavement, and as he ran through the door, they cast odd looks at him. Seeing them looking at him, Chris panicked and sped off into an alley. He breathed. For a long time, that was all he did, leaning against a wall. Big tears were falling on the ground, but he wasn't paying attention to them. He was afraid he was about to choke.

'Jesus, no,' he gasped. 'No. No...'

After half an hour of standing in that alley, that was still the only word he could vocalise. Feeling more dead than alive, he finally managed to text his driver, wiping his tears away, hoping the dark would make his red eyes invisible.

At three fifteen, he entered his room, and sank to his knees. He needed to be dramatic; needed to get through this. He needed to feel what had just happened to him, and feel terribly sorry for himself. This was the worst that could have happened to him. He deserved this self-pity. Rolled up like a ball on the floor, Chris cried his heart out, as quietly as he could; he didn't want his parents to know his heart had been broken that night. It wasn't until four o' clock that he remembered he needed to make a public appearance as Red Mist tomorrow.

Red Mist. How could he have forgotten him? In a sudden surge of energy, Chris jumped from the floor to put on his superhero outfit. Looking at himself in the mirror, practising some poses, he immediately felt a lot better. Screw Dave. Red Mist didn't need anyone.

'You are gorgeous,' he whispered. 'You are unstoppable.'

He pointed at an imaginary antagonist. 'And you're going down.'