Chapter 9

"Ahhh-nnnh~!" moaned the brunette. Her fingers explored her body, her head was thrown back, and she was such an amateur.

Clyde took a drag from his blunt as he waited for his morning coffee to cool off. The porn that Gilbert kid gave him was in fucking HD. How the hell did he find it? Punk-ass rich kids and their daddy's credit card.

Clyde could see it now: "Son, we all know we have urges, so here's my credit card; go buy some-ah…entertainment."

He scoffed as he stubbed out his home-made product and took a sip of his warm coffee. He glanced at the time at the corner of his computer.

"SHIT!" he cursed loudly as he rushed out the door, zipping up his dark blue janitor's suit, and skidding over to the white golf cart that served as his vehicle.

Clyde reached into his pocket and made sure that the dime bags were still there, ready for selling. The soft crunch crunch of dried leaves eased Clyde's thoughts as he started the golf cart and sped to the campus.

When Clyde arrived at the Academy not one piece of trash was on the ground. The serene image of a clean campus was soon disrupted as the students bustled out of their dorms. The golf cart was stuck, idling in the sea of kids of every age, every nationality, and every sex.

Clyde eyed a busty girl with blonde hair pulled back by a red headband. When she met his gaze, her eyes quickly darted away as she ran to keep up with a man who resembled a pissed-off troll doll.

Too bad. She looked legal, too.

The red-haired man brought a cigar he'd bought from the Cuban teacher to his lips and chewed on it softly.

Stupid non-smoking laws...

Clyde grunted and zoomed through the open pavilion. He picked up several cans of soda, almost a million sheets of paper, and a deflated soccer ball. Clyde hated kids, and didn't know why his parents had bribed him to work there.

"Arthur needs you. You're his older brother you should at least-" started his mother, her pearls glistening at the light of the fireplace. Mrs. Kirkland stood near the large bookcase that wrapped around the room, her arms crossed with a glass of sherry in her hand.

"Out of three brothers, why couldn't Sean or Dean babysit him instead? They're your golden boys. Or Molly, but wait she went to college to become a doctor-and we all know how much you loved that."

His mother had given an exasperated sigh and sipped at her sherry, she raised her eyes to the ceiling as she downed the rest of her drink.

"Because you're a little good-for-nothing shit like your father, and I need you to make sure Arthur doesn't make a fool of himself. He needs to look good in front of all of those children from other important families-how else would he get in the favor of Granny Beth? That old codger has to die sometime, right?"

Somehow the conversations with his mother always ended with her drinking and yelling at him for all five of the marriages that she had. Clyde decided to zone out and nod yes when he needed to.

The golf cart squealed to a stop once Clyde saw the rich German kid with the HD porn. He drove the golf cart alongside the albino punk whose Girl skateboard was scuffed and dirty as he rolled down the sidewalk.

"Hey, you buyin' any this week?" he only asked because he needed more...ah...entertainment. Gilbert shook his head and let out a small chuckle.

"No, I'm trying to get a little clean before the dance. Buuuuut, I could use some more beer, a case of thirty would do." he said with a glint in his red eyes. Ever since the seventeenth, the German had been buying beer from Clyde almost every day. Some German holiday or something.

But nothing beats Guinness Day. Clyde thought as the boy slipped him a magazine with a flat-chested blonde arcing her back as her hand was hidden by her thigh. Clyde skimmed a few pages, it was worthy enough, and told Gilbert he would drop it at his door during lunch.

"So, do you have a hot date or something?" Clyde said with a waggle of his eyebrows, the cigar in his mouth turning soggy from resting in his mouth for so long. Gilbert smiled; a small blush racing across his features as he started to go off on his skateboard.

"Something like that." he said as he rolled away.

Clyde shook his head and drove around to the back of the gym where he could finally light his cigar without getting caught.

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Im Yong was sad that his favorite drama was being canceled. The main boy was extremely cute, and he had a nice butt. His uncle had chided him, telling him it was improper to be so upset over something so 'minute', while he was stuttering the entire time.

His uncle was such a coward-he was never considered brave after what he had done back in Korea, but neither of them liked to talk about it. Besides, Im Yong swore he would never-could never be anything like his uncle-he was too cool to be that weak.

Im Yong skipped down the hallway, passing classroom after classroom until he passed one classroom in particular.

The man inside had long onyx hair that swept behind him in a ponytail, and his tie was a deep red color as it hung crookedly around his neck. The Korean boy just so happened to be extremely infatuated with the very man who taught his Calculus class. Im Yong eyed Mr. Wang up and down, and finally decided to go in.

"Mr. Wang," said Im Yong as he knocked at the doorframe.

"Yes?" said Mr. Wang. Im Yong walked towards his desk and stared out the window before replying.

"I need some help with something..."

"Law of cosines? I go over that last week..." his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to guess what Im Yong was thinking about.

"No, it's actually a personal problem..." Mr. Wang's eyebrows shot up.

"There is guidance counselor for this, no?" Im Yong nodded, but continued.

"There is, but I think you could help me better..." he said with a slight grin. Im Yong edged closer to the teacher and sat at the corner of his large desk. His fingers began to trace patterns on the glossed wood.

Im Yong leaned forward, closing in on his confused teacher when someone opened the door. Im Yong shot up and stood tall immediately.

"Oh, Iv-Mr. Braginski, why are you here?" said Mr. Wang. Im Yong swallowed loudly as the Russia 'boy' stared coolly at him with round, violet-tinted eyes.

"Nothing. Walking. Visiting. I was outside when I saw something veeeery interesting-a little bug annoying a pretty flower. I catch little bug and rip wings off and see if it fly. Fun, da?" Ivan said with a smile. Im Yong cleared his throat nervously and started to slide away from Mr. Wang...or Ivan...or both.

"I-I think-k I'll be going now. Thanks Mr. Wang for the help." Im Yong stared at Ivan the whole time he tried to get to the door. Ivan stepped aside to let him through.

"See you tomorrow," he added hastily with one last glance at his confused teacher and the terrifying Russian.

Im Yong was pretty sure he had just pissed his pants.

Maybe he was more like his uncle than he thought.

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Ludwig took a large swig from the strong beer in his hand. The tapping of the first beer was on the seventeenth-the beginning of Oktoberfest and every night since, he and his brother followed ancient custom. It wasn't really a custom, but they had drunk every other night since last Monday. Tonight was a little bit different.

The two 'brothers' weren't just chatting about random things that had happened at school, they were talking about themselves. How they were doing, how they felt-things they would only tell each other, and no one else.

"You know what? I don't giva a flyin' fuck if yur gay! Yur m'brother! I mean m'cousin. I mean m'-what the fuck are you anyways?" slurred Gilbert. Antonio wasn't in the room tonight, staying late at the cafeteria instead of with the drunken Germans in the dorm room.

Ludwig's sigh was interrupted by a loud belch that came up from within him. Gilbert never talked so freely about Ludwig being gay, but if you got enough alcohol in him, (roughly five large bottles) you would get an extremely easy talker.

"And I don't care that you don't have the guts to ask that girl of yours out!" Gilbert punched Ludwig on the arm. The blond German rubbed at his arm.

"Hey-"

"She's too nice! I don'wanna-coz I'm not good enough fo'har. She's too much like mom. Good people like that don'deserve assholes like me." He downed another beer and reached for another.

"Your mom?...Aunt Gretchen? I don'remember much from when I'was younger...That man..." Ludwig shivered at the thought. Sometimes he had dreams of rough hands roaming his body, invading his thoughts and caressing the darkest parts of his mind. Gilbert's bright red eyes hardened.

"That guy was fucked up! Dudes like that should have their dicks cut off and fed to pitbulls. I remember when the old man brought you home-you were fucked up baaaaad. Cuts and bruises-that kinda shit. You were like, ten!" Ludwig tried to drown his thoughts with another beer. He couldn't remember the plane crash that had killed his parents, but he could remember everything after.

The man who had found him told him he was his 'papa' and that Ludwig never had a name-just 'Boy'. 'Boy' was punished every night. The man had taken pictures and sold them to other sick-minded freaks, their pleasure easily noticed by the lust that circled within their eyes.

Gilbert took Ludwig's head and patted it on his shoulder, rubbing his hair in odd tangling patterns.

"It's ok bro, ich bin einfach spitze, I'll protect you." Gilbert tried to stand up and just ended up falling over the very person he had just sworn to protect. Gilbert had also spilled the beer over his new jacket. Ludwig sighed.

"Ok, it's time for you to go to bed."

"But I'm the older brother!" He slurred back.

Ludwig plopped Gilbert on the bed and took off his smelly shoes. He turned off the lamp near Gilbert's bed, and almost tripped on a dirty skateboard as he walked toward the door.

"I'm gonna see her at the dance." Gilbert whispered. Ludwig paused, his hand on the brass doorknob.

"I don'know what to do, I hope she doesn't hate me." he said sleepily.

Ludwig looked back at Gilbert and smiled lightly.

"No one could ever hate you bruder..." he said as he closed the door.

Ludwig walked down the brightly lit hallway, stumbling down the stairs as he walked to his own dorm room.

Ludwig fished out a key and unlocked the door to his room.

"YAAAAAAAY~, your back!" shouted Feliciano as he jumped up to hug Ludwig.

"Shhhh! It's too late for yelling."

"Oh...let's go to sleep then?"

Ludwig closed the door quietly, hoping the disturbance hadn't woken up the neighbors. But he was used to getting noise complaints, so by now the other students tried to ignore them. Ludwig sighed and rubbed at his neck, the eager Italian pulling at his jacket cuff.

Feliciano led the weary German to the bed and lifted the pale sheets up as Ludwig kicked off his shoes and slipped off his drenched green jacket. He slid into the bed and found that despite how tired he felt, he couldn't fall asleep. Ludwig glanced at the sleepy Italian resting beside him and whispered softly.

"Feli...I can't fall asleep..." Feliciano mumbled something in Italian and laid his head on Ludwig's breast, right above his heart. His small hands traveled to the German's chest and rubbed slowly, back and forth, in a sleepy pattern as he began to sing.

Feliciano's singing was beautiful even if it wasn't singing, it was more like humming while filling in the words with la's and ah's until Ludwig fell asleep. When he finally fell asleep Feliciano kissed the German on the cheek and whispered softly into his ear.

"Buonanotte."

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