CHAPTER 7: BACK HOME AGAIN
He didn't bother to go to class; he just couldn't do it, just like he couldn't take Fang outside alone, like he couldn't bare to go to breakfast alone, like he couldn't bare to be just alone. He knew that he was hungry, but he didn't care. Exiting this room would mean suicide as far as he was concerned, so without restraint he laid in the room all day, opened the bag of food Gunther had brought him, and found himself a bottle of whiskey. The shit tasted like bitter hell and burned his throat, but Pickles didn't care. He drank nearly half the bottle before passing out on the floor. He was exhausted, half drunk, and filled with sorrow. The mere notion that he couldn't survive without Toki being near him made him sick to the point where he felt the overwhelming urge to vomit. The only thing that stopped him was Fang.
The young wolf nipped at his jeans, jumped up and nearly tackled him to the ground. He was growing quickly now, and Pickles wasn't sure if Toki would be back in time before he let him go back into the forest. Surely they couldn't raise him forever. He was already beginning to show signs of dominance, like now how he pinned the redhead to the ground and dangerously tried to bite the back of his neck. "Get aff, you fuckin' mutt!" Pickles howled, punching the wolf in the nose. Fang recoiled and let out a growl, then started running around in circles around him. "What's wrang with you?"
Another growl and the young wolf was slamming itself into the door, desperately whimpering. Out, out! He thought, biting the door knob. Let me out! I want to run, I want to kill something...kill a wild rabbit, a mouse, ANYTHING. I need to KILL.
"You wanna go an a walk?" Pickles suggested. Fang stopped his insistent growling and howled in affirmation. The redhead rolled his eyes, put a jacket over his shirtless chest, then sighed. "Fine, let's get outta here."
Although Fang was growing rapidly, Pickles was still just barley able to hold him in his arms as they walked. There was nobody outside—they were all in class. He smiled at this. Nobody's ever outside—I like that, he thought, petting Fang's ears. They walked on. It wasn't as snowy as usual and the air was a little warmer. Summer was quickly approaching, making its mark by melting the ice and thawing out the forests. Once they were at the edge of the treeline, Pickles let Fang jump from his arms and sprint into the trees. He glanced back over his shoulder, saw a pair of boys approaching him, and cursed. He was in no mood to deal with anyone else today, not after the events of the day before. Thankfully Fang was already deep into the woods by the time the two finally managed to catch up to him. They smiled at each other, said something in Norwegian, then glared down at Pickles. Until now he'd never realized how short he was, but as the two loomed above him he suddenly realized just how small and insignificant he actually seemed to be.
"Where's Toki?" one of them demanded. Pickles shrugged and dug his hands deep down in his pockets.
"He really left, huh?"
Another shrug and a small, meek, "I dunno."
"Yeah you do, now tell us."
"Maybe," Pickles said, glaring at them, "it's none of your business."
One of the boys hit him, and he just fell back, didn't even bother to defend himself. Sure, he got the shit beat out of him, but as he dragged himself and Fang back up to their room, it wasn't like he cared. His body was screaming out in agony, and surely it was the worst pain he'd ever felt—even worse than the time he'd broken a few ribs and nearly severed his spine in a car accident. He remembered this as he limped up the stairs. Gunther had been driving his dad's truck and of course they'd been drunk out of their mind. The look on his face after they crashed was unforgettable.
"Dude, I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry..." he'd said once they'd gotten to the hospital.
Pickles sighed and came back to the present; he snapped his fingers and motioned for Fang to hurry up. The wolf, seeing that its master was hurt, didn't hesitate to keep up with him. Fang pressed his cool, damp nose into Pickles' hand. He smiled, closed his eyes, and thought of Toki.
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"I wanna die," he mumbled to himself, watching the blood run from his nose down into his open hand. The kids had nearly broken his nose. Without much thought, dead to the world around him, he repeated, "I wanna die..." He might as well just die right now if he'd never get to see Toki again. That kid meant so damn much to him, although he didn't exactly know why. He just knew that he really did feel something for the Norwegian, something deep, something foregin to him. He swallowed and stuck his tongue out, licked some of the trailing blood as it dripped down his face. It tasted like metal, coppery and disgusting, and so he wiped the rest of it off on his jacket, not caring if the fabric got stained with it. He didn't care about much of anything anymore. Tomorrow he'd go to class and try to pay attention, but he knew that he'd get in trouble. What was the point?
Still, the next morning he woke up, drug himself to class, and got sent straight to detention where he immediately laid his head down on his cool desk and closed his eyes. The teacher who was watching him noticed his behavior and snapped, "No sleeping. Do some work for once."
So he did; he got out a crumpled piece of paper, a pen, and began to scribble on it what he used to always scribble before—hate, and fuck the world, but somehow this all morphed into, love, Toki, and lyrics from Sweet Child 'O Mine. Without realizing it he was writing down page after page of things, random words, all about the Norwegian.
Beautiful, amazing, funny, sweet, nice. Eyes like blue diamonds, hair like copper sunshine. Perfect, flawless face...doesn't deserve this...he doesn't deserve his life...he deserves better...
He continued on in this fashion for the next few weeks, and every time he was released from detention he'd go straight to his room to sulk and drink. He'd get beaten by other teenagers nearly every day until it got so bad that he was actually used to walking with a limp. Once he actually thought that he'd broken his arm, but within a few days the purple and blue bruises, along with the swelling, had disappeared, so he'd chalked it up to nothing but a nasty sprain. Fang didn't make things easier for him—he was constantly trying to attain dominance over the room whenever he could, and when he saw that Pickles was weak he'd take advantage of this moment and bite him until he bled and cried.
"You fuckin' bitch, quit it!" he'd scream, kicking the half-grown wolf. "Leave me alone!" When things couldn't get worse, when the only thing keeping him tethered to this world was the dim hope that Toki might come back, things only continued to spiral downhill.
One day he was called into the counselor's office. "Take a seat, if you please." the counselor said politely, motioning to a chair. Pickles sat down in the stupid office and glared moodily at the floor. Suddenly he felt as though he was right back at home, having a family dinner with his parents. "So," the counselor continued after a moment of note-taking, "Your teachers told me that you've been having some problems lately. Would you agree with that?"
"No." he answered, grinning to himself. Fuck this, he'd make this guy earn his pay. He'd been to therapists before and all they really did was lead you in the direction that they wanted you to go in. They'd twist your answers to ensure that they heard what they wanted, and this idiot was no different. His answer, however, clearly didn't satisfy the man. He frowned deeply and wrote down some more notes.
"Uh-huh. I've heard that you've gotten into a lot of fights, Pickles." he cleared his throat and said, as if it were some big, huge secret, "I've heard that you hurt people." He couldn't hold back his laughter, and in a moment the counselor was glaring at him. "Do you think that hurting people is funny?"
Oddly, the laughter was immediately wiped away from the redhead's face once he heard this statement. He straightened up in his seat and said boldly, "I wouldn't hurt people if they didn't hurt me." he didn't mean to sound so weak, so submissive, but he couldn't help it. He'd never talked to anything except a wolf in weeks, and the isolation was beginning to get to him. He wished more than ever that Toki was here right now to console him. He wasn't though, so Pickles continued. "I fuckin' hate everyone else..."
"So you don't care about anyone else, is that what you mean?" the counselor asked. Little did he know that in reality, the teenager wasn't actually talking to him, but more to Toki in spirit. That was the only way that he was able to voice his emotions at all.
"No, I don't care about anyo-" he stopped himself. That was what he would've said if he were still in Wisconsin, if all of this hadn't happened, but now it was a lie. He revised his statement. "Yeah, one person."
"Yourself?"
"No," he shook his head and smiled bitterly. "not me at all, not anymore."
"Then who?" he pried. Pickles looked up. He decided that he'd had enough of this; in an instant he was walking out the door, a smug look on his face.
"I think that's all the therapy I really need right now. Have a good fuckin' afternoon."
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Because he'd given the counselor so much grief, he was given detention for the rest of the month, so for the next several weeks there he sat in an old, uncomfortable desk in a small, cramped room under the constant scrutiny of a teacher who hated him. In those weeks he learned to entertain himself—he'd spend most of his days in the room trying to sleep. One day, as he entered the detention room and made his usual sleep-spot by pushing several desks together, he decided that this was it. He was tired of just sitting around wasting his time, he'd do something tomorrow that would ensure his expulsion from this hellhole. He went to sleep feeling oddly satisfied. Soon he'd be free, and all of the idiots at this school could spend eternity rotting in the deepest, most miserable circle of Hell.
Much later something woke him up—his feet were pushed off of the desk they'd been resting on. Pickles awoke with a jump and said before thinking, "Hey, what's the big idea, you stupid fuckin' idiot? I'll kill y—Toki?" he was so amazed that he just sat there, his eyes wide. "Y-You're back?"
He motioned meekly to the desk and asked, "Do you minds if I sit down?"
"What? No, look-" he removed his feet from the desk, dusted it off, then pulled it closer to himself. "Siddown."
"Thanks." he took his seat, ignoring the glare he was getting from the teacher. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, each one trying to think of what to say, until finally Pickles gave up and he threw his arms around the Norwegian and pulled him into an impossibly tight embrace.
"I missed you, dude."
"Uh..." he seemed to be shocked by this reaction. "Okays. I missed you toos."
"Excuse me." the teacher interrupted, throwing the book he'd been reading down onto his desk. "Would the two of you please stop talking? This is detention, after all. You—what's your name?" he pointed to the Norwegian.
"Toki."
"Fine, then you—Toki-move all the way over there."
His face fell as he got up and gathered up his stuff. Pickles protested, "But 'dat's all the way on the other side of the fuckin' roo-"
"Did I ask for your opinion on the matter?" the teacher snapped, picking up his book and resuming his reading. Toki moved wordlessly and when he was in his new desk, he turned to Pickles and frowned. This sucks. He seemed to say. The redhead nodded and rolled his eyes. He dug a piece of paper out of his book sack and wrote:
Why are you in here anyway? Who gave you detention?
He glanced over at the teacher, then threw it with all his might over to Toki. It flew and landed on the other teenager's desk. He picked it up, read it, wrote back, then threw it over to Pickles. One of my teachers said I was talking too much and gave me detention for the rest of the month.
He sneered at this. Toki was stuck in here for the rest of the month—and it was only the third—and he himself would be out in a matter of days. That was no good. He had to be with him one way or another, so without thinking he took out three other pieces of paper, rolled them up into a ball, then launched it at the teacher. It collided with his face, knocking his glasses sideways; a look of annoyance came upon his face. Toki couldn't help but to laugh aloud and smile at Pickles. The redhead just sat in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, looking quite proud of himself.
"Which one of you was it?" his voice was so full of vengeful anger that Toki's laughter ceased and he glanced at Pickles.
"It was me." the redhead blurted out, grinning.
The teacher narrowed his eyes at Pickles. "Do you want to be stuck in here for another week? That's what's about to happ-"
"I don't care, fuck you." That was it. Did this seal it? No, not quite. The man just readjusted his glasses and sighed tirelessly.
"You are on thin ice, boy. One more interruption, and I'll make sure that you're sitting in this room for the next month."
Silence filled the room until Pickles dared to rise up from his seat and declare, "I gotta go piss—can I go to the bathroom?"
The teacher didn't even look up from his book, just waved him off and said, "Yes, yes, but you only get a minute."
"But the bathroom's on the floor upstairs—it'll take us a minute just to walk there."
"Then walk fast, and there will be no 'us'. Only one person goes at a time, that's the rule."
Pickles motioned for Toki to follow him out the door, which he did without hesitation. They exited the room silently—so silently that the teacher didn't even notice that it was two of them that were leaving. Once out of the classroom, the redhead pushed the Norwegian against the wall and embraced him again. To his surprise, now Toki hugged him back tightly, and for a moment it seemed as though he wouldn't let go.
"I reallys did miss you a lots, you know."
"I know."
He began shaking, and Pickles pulled him even closer. "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
A pause, then, "I really don'ts know, but sometimes likes now I just don't know whats to say...I'm sorrys."
He ended the hug and gave Toki a broad smile. "S'fine, dude, I get it. You know what we're gonna do now?"
He shook his head. "No, whats?"
"We're not goin' back." he answered, guiding the Norwegian away from the detention room.
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He and Toki spent the next thirty minutes or so walking around the school, dodging teachers, and then finally making their way out into the school yard to their bench. There they sat down and waited. Both knew that they couldn't hide from detention forever, so they didn't make it a point to act particularly sneaky. Instead they sat and they talked. Toki leaned heavily against Pickles and gave him a smile. It was only now that the redhead realized that a black bruise ringed his friend's left eye. He frowned and, without thinking, reached out and traced it lightly with his index finger. Toki reeled back, a look of shock on his face, and became pale.
"You gat a black eye." he observed.
He nodded. "Ja, sos do you."
Pickles arched a brow. "I do?"
Toki indicated his right eye and said, "Ja, you gots one right heres." there was a pause before he dared to ask, "The other peoples here, they've been beating you ups, huh?"
He laughed and shook his head. Maybe if the Norwegian believed his lie, he would too. "Nah, course nat. You know that nobody can beat me up. What about you, though? Who gave you that?" gently he pressed his hand to it. "It looks like somebody hurt you."
"Nos, they-"
" 'Cause, y'know, if you wanted me to I could kill them."
His blue eyes grew wide and he quickly shook his head and cried, "Nos, don'ts! Please just forgets abouts it, it ams no big-"
"What's this?" Pickles interrupted, taking Toki's hand. For an instant the Norwegian's sleeve had risen up to the wrist, revealing a ring of dark bruises and scabbed cuts. Before there could be protest, he yanked up the sleeve of the jacket and observed the swollen, blackened skin. The whole arm of the teenager was bruised and slit, and as soon as he was able to, Toki raced to draw his sleeve over his injuries, his face red.
"You weren't supposed to sees that."
"What happ-"
"It ams none of your business."
"But-"Just as he opened his mouth to respond and apologize, a voice called their names from far away. They both turned and weren't surprised to see their teacher hurrying towards them, his face red with fury.
"You two—back to class now!"
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Two minutes later they were both sitting on opposite sides of the detention room being closely monitored by the teacher. "You, what's your name?" he demanded.
The teacher pointed at Pickles, who just rolled his eyes and growled, "Pickles."
"You have detention for the rest of the month."
His heart skipped a beat as he smiled victoriously and glanced over at Toki. The Norwegian didn't smile back, but instead frowned down at his desk. After about an hour of sitting in silence Pickles decided that enough was enough, he needed to know what was wrong, needed to apologize, so he scribbled a quick note of, What did I do? Then threw it quickly over to Toki. The other teenager quit reading his book—The Catcher in the Rye, like always—picked it up, carefully unfolded it, and read it. He tossed it back to Pickles.
Nothing. I'm not mad.
He wrote back, Then what the fuck's wrong?
I'm scared.
As soon as Pickles read this he arched a brow. So, Toki was scared? Of what he had to know, so he repeated the cycle with the message of, Scared of what?
What he'll do.
What are you talking about?
My dad—I'm scared of what he'll do if he finds out that you know.
He got out another piece of paper and scrawled, Your dad? So HE did that to you?
The response was Toki shyly writing down in small, nearly unreadable words, Maybe.
Pickles read this and felt anger rising inside of him. He could just remember when he himself had beaten Toki, and how sad and pleading the Norwegian had been. Now his dad was doing the same thing? It made him feel sick, the thought that someone else might be living thru the same kind of thing that the himself had to put up with at home. He felt like crying then, especially as memories of his father and the beatings that he'd received came to him. He scribbled on the paper heedlessly, I'll kill him. Then passed it back over to Toki. The Norwegian read it, let his face grow pale and a little smile come across his face. Pickles could hardly believe it—he was smiling at this? Then, as Toki met his gaze and he got a glimpse of the emotion reflecting his endlessly pale, shining eyes, everything became clear.
He wanted his father to die, too.
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Pickles watched Toki wrestle and play with a now bigger and fiercer fang, laughing and rolling around in his pajamas—no shirt and surprisingly tight, skinny jeans. He swallowed and tried not to look at the Norwegian's ass as he moved around on the floor and teased the young wolf. Eventually his willpower failed him and he was left to sit on his bed shirtless and tired thinking back to the dream he'd had of Toki weeks ago. He also remembered what he'd said in that dream so clearly and boldly—I love you, dude.
"He can't stay here forever." he said, snapping back into reality as Toki was pushed onto the ground by Fang. "He's getting too big, and he eats too much."
"Ja, he bites too. See?" the Norwegian indicated where the young wolf had gnawed on his arm—blunt teeth marks tattooed him in various places, all slowly oozing blood. Pickles grimaced at this and got up to help Toki to his feet. "Ams you thinking...well..." he stared into the redhead's blazingly passionate, green eyes and sighed. Yes, he knew what they had to do. "It ams time?"
"Yeah," he said, gently nodding. "it is, dude."
And so they both gathered up Fang—it took both of them to ensure that the young wolf was calmed down enough to take out of the room—and made their way outside into the trees surrounding the school. Once that had been done, Toki knelt down in the dirt and wrapped his arms around the wolf's neck, buried his face in it's midnight-colored fur. Fang's yellow, glowing eyes shimmered with confusion as the Norwegian whispered into his ear, "You needs to leave now, or we'll gets in trouble. You're just too bigs, too grown ups."
"Toki, dude-" Pickles laid a hand carefully on the other teenager's bare shoulder and sat down next to him. "S' fine, he's gonna be alright." then he turned to Fang and gently rapped his nose like he used to do when the wolf had been a mere puppy; the animal jumped back a little and yelped. "You're gonna be good, right?"
Fang just bit at his neck and locked his jaws around the redhead's throat loosely, in a petty display of power. His grip wasn't so loose to allow escape, but it wasn't dangerously tight, either, just enough to keep Pickles on the ground for a moment or two. Toki's eyes grew wide, but this assault only lasted for about a minute before Fang was backing off, licking his lips. The Norwegian sat by Pickles' side and tapped his shoulder. "Hey, ams you-"
"That stupid prick." he sat up, rubbed at his throat. He was bleeding slightly. He reached to his left, picked up a stone, and launched it at the wild animal. "Hey, go! We're done! Hope you have a good life!" they watched him turn and run off, his tongue flying out of his mouth, his tail wagging insanely. Once he had left Toki dared to lean against Pickles and rest his head on his shoulder.
"Will he be okay?"
"Yeah," he immediately responded, "of course he'll be okay. He'll prob'ly go and get himself a girl, I bet."
He looked up at him. "Reallys?"
He nodded and scooted a little closer to Toki. They sat there for quite a whil, listening to the sounds of the woods around them, staring up at the crescent moon, thinking of much bigger things than just themselves. Pickles smiled up at the starry sky, placed a hand on Toki's leg, and sighed happily. He finally felt okay—thrilled, actually. Thrilled to just be able to feel someone next to him that he genuinely cared about. He wanted to push Toki onto the ground, into the leaves of the forest floor, to feel him and kiss him everywhere; no inch of skin would be unexplored. He wanted to taste him, to kiss with so much lust that he would be able to feel himself losing control...he wanted, he wanted...
"I wanna go to bed." he whispered, pushing these thoughts away. No, he wasn't like that. He cared for the other teenager, but that was it. They were just friends, best friends, nothing more. They would never be—then again, hadn't the Norwegian enjoyed kissing Gunther, who was another boy? If he was open to it then surely there was a chance...no, absolutely not. Toki was the exact opposite of Pickles—innocent, patient, kind, caring, and above all a virgin. He was still pure, still untouched by any other human. Nobody had explored or known him yet, or even laid in the same bed with him, and Pickles had no desire to do any of this.
He helped Toki to his feet and, before he could take a step, the teenager had pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry." was all he could say. "I'm sorrys, I'm-"
"For what?"
"I...I don'ts-" he pulled away, gave Pickles a timid smile, and repeated mindlessly, "I'm so sorrys."
He just shrugged this off and responded with an indifferent, "Yeah, right, whatever." which really meant, I'm sorry, too.
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"I don't wants to sleep alone again tonight." Toki announced as he watched Pickles climb into bed. He was standing by the door, his hands in his pockets as he requested sheepishly, "Can you sleeps with me?"
Pickles' mind filled with exceedingly filthy, delicious images—Will you sleeps with me? Yes, he certainly would—but he pushed these mental pictures away and shook his head. "Nah, no way. Your bed ain't big enough and neither is mine."
"Can't we push thems together, then?"
He frowned in thought. This wasn't a bad idea. Without hesitation he jumped out of his bed and pushed it into the center of the room, then he helped Toki do the same. Once that was done, they both climbed gratefully into their now huge bed and smiled at each other. Pickles leaned over and switched off the lamp. In the silver light that came in thru the open window, he could just see the dim outline of Toki's face, and he resisted the urge to kiss him right there. Although he leaned in closer to him, parted his lips slightly, and reached out, he was able to recover and abruptly stop himself.
"You...uh..." he honestly couldn't think of what to say for the first time in his life, so he just laughed awkwardly and pulled the covers up to his chin. Toki watched him, his pale eyes seeming to glow in the moon's light. The pale shine of the night sky seemed to embrace the Norwegian, make his features stand out like never before. Suddenly Pickles could see just how beautiful he actually was—a perfect face, skin so amazingly fair and smooth that it was almost a sin, and hair that possessed a coppery luster. His eyes were illuminated in the moon's light, brought to life by the affection that shimmered inside of them. They were drops of liquid blue fire, shards of pale sapphire, so bright and perfect. Pickles felt himself blushing and so he rolled over and said, "G'night, Toki. I really did miss you."
"Pickle?"
"Y-Yeah?"
"Can I tells you something?"
"Huh?"
"Gunther—I really didn't likes it when he kissed me, you knows."
He turned to face Toki again, a brow arched in confusion. "Huh? Whadda mean you didn't like it."
"I means," Toki was red, clearly embarrassed that he'd even brought it up. "I liked the kiss, but not the fact that it was with hims. I don't likes him, I guess that ams what I mean."
"Who do you like, then?"
He said nothing, only looked away and admitted, "He saids stuff that I've never really heards before—nobody's ever talked to me likes that. It made me feel..."
"What?" He rubbed his eyes, tried to vanquish the sleep that was threatening to overtake him.
Toki sighed and explained hopelessly, "I don'ts know, just forgets about it."
"No, I won't." Pickles persisted. "What did he say 'dat you liked so much?" His mouth was nearly watering. He needed to know, he had to know. On the other hand, he didn't want to pry too much, because that would mean making the other teenager even more ashamed. He became much softer as he reached out and laid his hand on Toki's arm gently. "You don't gotta say if you don't want, it's okay. I-"
"He saids he wanteds to fuck me—he wanted to just throw me down on the floor rights there in the hall, makes me get naked and suck his dick."
"W-Wow..." he swallowed. It took nearly everything he had in him to hide the anger he was feeling towards Gunther Bekker right now. He would kill him too, the next chance he got. Nobody should speak to Toki like that, not unless it was him.
The Norwegian met Pickles' gaze and inquired in such innocence that it made the other teenager's heart melt, "I don't really gets half of what he said, though; I wish he'd done it kinds of, just so I still wouldn'ts be a virgin."
"Bein' a virgin's nat a bad thing, dude."
"But I wants to be like you." he said, smiling at Pickles charmingly.
"No," he disagreed, shaking his head, "please don't try to be like me."
He looked puzzled as he asked, "But whys not?"
" 'Cause I told you before—I'm nobody."
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A few days later, Toki was called out of detention. He was told to go to the office, that there was something important he had to hear. The day passed by slowly, but finally Pickles was let out of detention. He went back to his room and awaited his friend's return. Finally the Norwegian entered the room, a sullen look on his face. He turned to the redhead and said glumly, "My dads wants me to go home agains."
"Again?" Pickles asked incredulously. "But why?"
"Hols-iday." he responded with a shrug. He went and plopped down onto their joined bed and closed his eyes. "I really don't wants to go..."
"I'll go with you this time."
He laughed at this. "Pickle, you can'ts do that!"
"Why nat?" He challenged.
"Because," Toki gave him an uncharacteristically serious look and explained, "my dads would be really mad if you came with me. Besides, I can handles this on my own. I-"
"Don't really care," Pickles retorted. "I'm comin' with you, so get over it and stop bitching."
They stared at each other for a long while before the Norwegian confessed, "It woulds be nice if you were there, and it would only be for a few days ats the most..."
"I'll be good." the redhead swore.
Toki finally agreed, "Sure you cans come, just don't beat anyone ups, okay?"
He grinned. "Can't make no promises, dude."
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A few weeks later they were walking in the crowded streets of Lillehammer. "So," Pickles said thoughtfully, looking around the small town square. "this is where you grew up—nice place."
Toki said darkly, "You haven't seen my house yets."
"Is it bad?"
He cringed. "Horrible. Comes on, let's just g-"
"Hei, Toki!" a voice called from behind them. Pickles and Toki turned and were both surprised to see two teenagers, probably both no older than seventeen, hurrying towards them, grinning broadly. Once they reached the two, one of the boys said to Toki, "Hei, lite Toki."
His face grew red as he responded shamefully, "Ja, heys, Alrek." he let the boy punch him lightly in the stomach before trying to push past him and continue walking.
Pickles caught him and asked cluelessly, "What's goin' an? Who are they?"
He stared at the ground as the two boys went up to him and lightly began hitting him, teasing him. "My cousins Alrek and Askel."
"Oh." he watched Toki's face redden with fury as he snapped at the two brothers, "Leaves me alone! Why ams you even here?"
Alrek was the one who spoke; he glanced over at his twin brother and announced, "Your father, little jævel."
"What does 'dat mean?" Pickles inquired, glaring at Alrek. Clearly Toki didn't like him or his brother, which meant that he didn't like them either. Besides that, they kept calling their cousin that word. What was it? Jævel. What did that mean?
The other brother, who looked exactly like Alrek, laughed and punched Pickles' shoulder. "Who are you? Aslaug didn't say that Toki would be bringing any guests—he made Anja only cook for five."
"Fives? You ams not staying for supper, are you?" Toki asked nervously. Askel nodded and smiled down at his younger cousin.
"Ja, and now that you hads to go and bring a stupid American to our house, we have to tell your mom to cook for someone else. Your dad won't be very happy, jævel."
He sighed. "You two really don't haves to stay—I didn't tell Pickle abouts you yet."
"What's there to tell? He's clearly your little boyfriend and we're-"
"Your cousins." Askel completed his brother's thought before laughing.
Pickles reddened and snapped irritably, "Shut up, assholes."
"You know," Alrek said, ignoring his young cousin's protests, "we always knew that Toki wasn't straight—he always had that stupid, pale skin, like he wore makeup."
"And his hair has always been so long." Askel continued his brother's joke, punching his cousin in the back when he wasn't looking. "Not to mention-"
"-those tight, queer-boy jeans of his. He wears them all the time. What about you, does he wear them for you?" Alrek inquired innocently, grinning down at Pickles.
"No," he began, "he's nat-"
"Oh, and he never grew right, either." Askel added as an afterthought. "He's so damn small and scrawny..."
"Shut up!" the redhead finally managed to cut in. "Just shut-"
"They don't knows the meaning of shuttings up, Pickle." Toki informed him. This was proven true; as the twins lead them thru the town and to the home of Toki's father, they continued on and on about their little cousin.
"I saw him wearing lipstick once." Askel said, laughing at his cousin's quickly reddening face.
"It wasn'ts lipstick, it was-"
"He acts like a girl, too." Alrek interrupted. Eventually the two brothers just ended up strolling ahead of Pickles and Toki, caught up in their little embarrassing game. Once they were far enough away to talk, Pickles elbowed the Norwegian and said supportively, "It's gonna be fine. This place ain't so bad. It's actually kinda-"
"I hates it here." he said sadly, looking down at the snow as they walked. "I just wants to go home—I mean, backs to school, where I belong." then he peered up ahead at his two cousins. In many ways they appeared to look almost exactly like him—long, light brown hair, blue eyes, and pale skin, but to Pickles they still didn't come close to matching their cousin's beauty. Toki was fairer, had more class than either of them put together. Suddenly the Norwegian broke the silence by saying, "They always tease me, every times I come home to visit." I hate them, he seemed to want to say. The redhead understood this and nodded.
He reached around and pulled Toki close. "Yeah, I know."
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**A/N**
And it's time again for me to define Norwegian names. Alrek—All-powerful, ruler of all; Askel—meaning divine...kettle. Yeah, divine kettle. Okay, honestly I put a lot of thought into Alrek's name, but Askel just sounded cool to me. I think it may've been because it reminds of me Skol vodka for some reason, which is absolutely delicious...more to the point, there's only one chapter left to this story. Yay! Finally it's over, right? And...I have another one coming up. Yes, another one.
Oh yeah, and jævel means bastard in Norwegian, just so you know.