I've had this half written and sitting in my drafts for a while so I may as well post it now but ah gosh thank you so much for you reviews and such they never fail to make me smile. I'm terrible at characterisation but I hope I've got it sounding alright at least!

Moddi - Smoke
A Star For Nick - Lana Del Rey

22
The crack and sizzle of each match was comforting in it's own way. Depression was weighing down heavily on his mind after god knows how long of trying to repress it and all he could do is engage in mindless tasks and idiotic routines to keep himself from doing something even more idiotic. The world around him was dull, only short bursts of pleasure in the form of intimacy were able to take that feeling away from him for a while before everything went back to black and white. He would have preferred grey to be the colour he saw.

And maybe that's why he repetitively struck matches against the box and left them scattered on Alice's lawn, he was sure she wouldn't say anything about it to make him feel bad about it later, she was too soft spoken and too sweet to be able to snap at him for being so careless. Though after a while of simply standing there he could feel eyes on his face and he turned slightly to glance at the figure standing in the window.

He'd half expected to see Alice, rather a mess of bed head and smoke made his breath caught in his chest and his heart stop for a moment and that filer of monochrome began to blossom in his vision. No longer did he feel as if he were fading like a rotten flower, no longer did he feel so despaired when there was that slight lick of hope trickling into his once catastrophic state of mind. After lighting one last match and actually enjoying the intense pigment to it's flame against the stark darkness of the night did he chose to slip inside after that.

He tried not to appear tense when he brushed passed the Dutchman, shows how much attention he's paid whenever Alice talked about her 'older brother'. Then again most of the time they were meeting for one thing and one thing only, straight after he'd leave until the next time feeling hollow and like everything had been displaced. For that moment however he drank down the lump in his throat and indulged in the smooth drawl of the other's voice, he tried not to feel dirty being honest about his intentions of being there.

Though aside from hiding his discomfort he attempted to smother his excitement.

Why did it feel like they'd meet somewhere out of this world. They knew each other in another universe, another version of reality and if he tried to think back on it all that came forth was a skull cracking migraine and the voices of his childhood whimpering cruel words into the splits forming along the protection to his brain. Voices set to a station only he could tune into, and would if he liked it or not. Quickly fighting it back he dug his nails into his palms and smiled at the brunette, wilfully accepting the joint that got put between his lips and he could still taste him on the end of it. An indirect kiss of sorts, one of the two they'd ever shared and he regretted so much having to always being the one who remembered the other's face and name and yet he himself continuously remained utterly nameless to him. Faceless. Just another person on the street.

Before he'd left, wrapped up in Lars' shirt and trying not to bring the fabric to his nose to inhale right there and then, he pulled the other in close, his lips curved against the angry scar on the Dutchman's forehead, strands of hair he'd unconsciously been watching turn from a dirty blonde to a dark brown over the years tickled against his own nose. "It was lovely to see you again Lars."

Until next time.

21

Mathias grew amused as the conversation smoothly switched from something a hell of a lot more vanilla when the intern walked in. Boring, it was boring and he was just dying for another cup of coffee to compliment his cigarette. The cigars smelt disgusting and the people enjoying them even more so. His entertaining himself with the idea of making the men around him drop had been ceased when the intern was at his side with the coffee he'd been dying for all morning and looking up through his lashes he could have sworn under his breath. How many fucking times did this keep on happening, just how many? He blinked and kept his eyes down again until his caffinated saviour was at his arm and the man who had just walked through was at his side. How rude the other's were for not thanking him and taking it upon himself he looked up again and smiled up at the Dutchman gratefully.

"Takk." The interns name was on the end of his tongue and he refused to even whisper it. The other male looked down at him surprised, gaze glued to his face and if the Dutchman were anybody else he would have felt self conscious from the way he was most definitely taking in his state of exhaustion. He felt loss and dred mis and bubble in his chest as the other ran off again, another errand perhaps.

He'd long since accepted he was possibly in love with a man he'd never seen many parts of but at the same time had seen plenty, he'd seen his sketchbook when he was lying awake still after a simple one night stand, he'd seen the lyrics from 70s rock ballads etched into his notebook at school, he'd unintentionally seen him at his physical weakness due to having his mouth at the bottle and later on the Dane's. It felt like he'd been following him around invisibly for rare days at a time, never meaning too but never regretting when he caught himself doing so. Mathias' brows pulled together once the other had disappeared from his vision and he'd sat back, head tipping between his shoulder blades and he ground down his cigarette on the top of the table just as the topic of conversation carried on from before.

"Mathias we need you on this one."

He eyed the papers after the door swung closed and flipped through them.

"I could do it with my eyes closed." Mathias felt disgusted in himself but he smiled brightly, effectively fighting away the dimness in his eyes with the façade. "And alone. When should I start?"

18

His suit was barely ruined through the night, despite the hormonal and horny teenagers and young adults that ground against his lanky ass he wasn't looking too bad, not with half a bottle of vodka under his belt and in his genius the mix of his prescription that he was specifically not to be drinking heavily with. As the night drew on and he himself grew more and more fluid in his movements, more pliable in the hands of others he had caught sight of a familiar head in the crowd more than once.

He'd found himself later dragging Lars' to the Dutchman's boarding house after he'd emptied everything he'd eaten in the last 12 hours on Mathias' designer brand shoes. If there was anything that took him by surprise when they arrived there it was the fact that even if Lars had no clue who he was and was obviously off his fucking face the first thing he'd done as soon as he'd shrugged off any suspicions was to pull Mathias on top of him to lock their lips together in a god awful kiss, all teeth and clumsy tongue and no rhythm.

Though he wouldn't complain, years of daydreaming about a boy that he most certainly hadn't been using his connections to practically check up on every so often had his tongue acting as a gag halfway down his throat and his hands were burning against the blonde's skin as they slipped under the fabric of his shirt. Taking the hint Mathias began to strip off hastily, sitting up and entirely claiming the other's lap as he dumped his clothes on the foot of the bed. Impatience was a trait that ran strong in the Dutchman it appeared as his teeth bit and sucked sloppily at his neck, his jawline, his cheekbones. It was cute just how far Lars' inexperience really was by that point.

They each fumbled when they moved onto their trousers, jeans thrown haphazardly around and underwear along with them and it was only a matter of moments before their mouths clashed again and frustration took it's hold on Mathias, his nails dug into Lars' scalp, his mouth scalding against his as he attempted to get closer and closer. To keep and memorise the taste of him on his tongue. And he could taste poetry on the other's lips in the form of tenor vocals. He grew drunker off the undertones of his natural flavour under the stale taint of liquor. At some point their hips began to rut together, hormones running their bodies to the point they were humping each other dry and moans leaked freely from the both of them.

His heart however nearly stopped when the other pulled away and stared at him, his eyes wide again and his hands just a little more gentle as they cupped the sides of Mathias' face. The Dane should have known how sweet he would have actually been, and he leaned into him, lips brushing against the heels of his hands and the contact between their fully blown pupils never wavered.

"What's your nam-"

"Sssh one night stands don't work that way."

"What if I wa-"

"I'll find you again." He pressed their foreheads together, hips rolling down onto the Dutchman's. The nameless partner mumbled something about him being too drunk to remember anyway. "I'll find you again. I'll always find you Lars."

Confusion had Lars in it's clutches and Mathias took the opportunity to kiss him again, and again, and again until his tongue felt tired. Amidst the lazy tongues and meld of bruises lips did the Dane work fingers into himself until he felt ready enough, stupid him he was ready for this since the first time the Dutchman opened that stupid fucking mouth of his, the mouth he was sure would never so much as say his name. He would have let that get to him if it weren't for the fact he was already sinking down onto the sizeable length and was trying to smother his cries between his fingers. A merciless pace was set as soon as he was relaxed enough and he couldn't help but wonder where the hell the earlier tenderness had gone.

He kept the other pinned down by his hands, it was easy though with his own strength added to the fact Lars was probably too far gone to even try to sit up. His head tipped back as his stomach began to burn, an irresistible kind of pleasure that made his knees weak. Never once would he ever be able to say he'd felt that kind of way in any kind of intimate situation, he'd been waiting for too long for this, for him. Again when he sunk down and his prostate was hit dead on his chin snapped forward to his chest and his hands fisted against the other's chest, swearing obscenities and praises at the work the other hadn't put in but rather what he was offering.

Unsurprisingly he found himself starting to cry, luckily Lars hadn't suspected a thing so hastily he ran his fingers through his hair to force his fringe out of it's stiff hold and in front of his leaking eyes. It felt so good, it felt so cruel that he had to fall in love with him all over again and so suddenly. And it ruined him, any happiness he had felt had been replaced with the fact after this he'd leave with no form of contact, no promise for the chapter to be continued.

But he wanted this, he wanted to be ruined so sweetly, he wanted the other's name to be stamped all of the valves of his heart and his arteries so he'd never forget again what it felt like. The first time they'd met had been the spark and it created a roaring bush fire that utterly consumed Mathias' every function.

Lars tongued at his clavicle, sloppily and carelessly and probably out of his control from how far gone he was. Red half crescent moons bruised the Dutchman's arms and grew in scattered groups the longer they remained joint at the hips, Lars' natural charm smoothing out the Dane's worries for a few split seconds where they both reached a high so great that the low would have Mathias clawing at the ground for something similar until second best came along and claimed him the same way. Mathias lay for a while on the Dutchman's chest, trying to catch his breath and stop it from turning into hysterical screams of frustration as the low came much sooner than he'd anticipated.

The other was already asleep by the time he'd eased off and half heartedly attempted at cleaning himself off, his nails scrubbing at hickies and love bites until he realised they were momentarily permanent. Smoke clouded his judgement and he took a final kiss from swollen lips and to his naked shoulders and down his arms and freely tracks of tears followed the progress of his mouth until it began to ache too much he couldn't go any further.

It hurt him just how this was only going to be a drunken memory to Lars, it hurt him how he never knew if he'd ever be hit so hard by luck ever again. He'd curled up on the other side of the bed and waited until the slight haze of his own liquor intake subsided and he was left feeling low and more than a little worthless. Mathias bit his lip to keep his quiet weeping from being anything more than the odd sniffle and no matter how tight he hugged his arms around himself he could feel everything crumbling bit by bit harder than they ever had until he was in so many little pieces it'd be impossible to keep everything together.

He hid himself in the scraps of the other's warmth that had leaked onto the bedsheets inches away, his body trembling from the starved need to be wrapped under his unconscious sighs, fingers twitching to let those hands that roamed the sheets in the other's state of sleep to lace with Mathias'. It was cute, and it was something Mathias wouldn't forget for as long as his heart continued to beat. He wanted it to stop, for there to be a stutter in the rhythmic pounding in his ears, or for there to be nothing at all so he wouldn't have to deal with this self hatred, with his raw burning feeling of loneliness and longing he couldn't ever give into.

It was fatal how deep in that disgusting, vile and repulsive emotion he was with somebody he barely knew, how easy it was for him then to fall apart into shards of glass when he acknowledged the fact he'd never be loved back the same way.

In the morning he'd left with disposable kindness on the bedside table and again he'd let the other slip through his fingers and Mathias couldn't help but feel the gaping, empty space where he had once been.

15

"What did you used to want to be before you ran away?" The brunette smiled at him warmly, her nails scratching lightly against his ruined knuckles, the skin barely covering each prominent bone, and what wasn't torn was stretched a near translucent white.

"I wanted to be famous, an actor maybe or a singer anything really." He said, his voice wavering as he looked towards the oncoming train, it would take him away from her. He couldn't go he couldn't. Fighting back the waterworks he sighed and continued babbling to try and distract himself. His words carried out with the smoke exiting his lungs and his entire body shook to stay warm. Eventually he dumped the butt on the pavement and ground it into the gravel with the toe of his beaten up converse. "I'm going to be a star one day, my family was full of them so why can't I?"

"You're going to be a star indeed, a super star, loved by all and no matter what shenangians you get up to the police will even fall in love with you." She practically had to force him onto the train, his knees shaking so much with every step. "You're going to be on every magazine and feature alongside the most famous."

"I'll be the Edie Sedgwick of this time."

"You're already partially there." Liz laughed and walked alongside the side of the train to meet him at the nearest window, he hung his arm out the closest window and she grasped his sweaty palms. He held on tight enough that she got the message and shook her head.

"Mathias you have to go."

"Liz I can't func-"

"You'll be fine go to Amsterdam, find a school, enrol just try and stay out of trouble and for the love of god do not let them catch you. Keep wearing the hoodies I brought you they're big enough for you to hide your face. Work towards being a star" She held onto his hands through the crack of the train window, Mathias' face contorted in physical pain at having to be separated from the older teen. She smiled sweetly and kissed the ends of his fingertips just as the train blew off steam and she ran to keep their hands touching for a long as humanly possible. He watched, despairingly as she waved at him, calling just for him to hear in her native tongue. "I'll find you Mathias, be strong!"

He'd sunken back into the cracked leather seating, his knees brought up to his chest and face concealed in the black hood. He wouldn't last.

He was right, they'd caught him but not before he could meet him unintentionally again. He hated how they'd thrown him around like he weighed nothing and in all reality he was made up of nothing more than skin and bones and whatever muscle managed to cling to those barren bones. He did her proud though, he regretted not telling Liz about who he was or where he came from but he thought it was worth it just to see her smile and puff her chest out just so in pride.

While he had a preference for daisies a love for tulips had began to become apparent over the years. He used them as book marks, the stems woven with daisy chains like the string of fate around one's finger. He couldn't exactly understand why he was in love with such a simple flower, the affections unknowingly being planted in his subconscious since he was young. However when he made eye contact with the boy who kept sending glances over his shoulder did he almost remember what had exactly caused it.

He would have laughed out loud at the terrible job on his hair, painfully blonde ends looking off with the dark regrowth. But the other's eyes that contained the colour of meadows, the purest shade of green left the laughter caught in his mouth. He smiled at him, nodded once before pretending to be entirely immersed in the shit job of doodles on his arm. When the other boy sat down beside him he was speechless for a few moments, nervousness claiming his tongue and a strange kind of excitement to meet somebody who was decently 'normal' compared to the people he'd spent seemingly forever with send sparks under his skin.

Mathias left with the name 'Lars' in his head like a mantra, he didn't know his favourite colour, he didn't know anything personal about the other male other. However in the short period they'd spent in the classroom he couldn't help but think about the way his quiet laughter was constantly playback in his head, or how simple and generally sloppy his outfit was but it made him look simply divine. How he had dreaded the end of the class where he'd leave and most likely never meet him again. How he dreaded how he'd be the only one with a name to the face that had set alight a bitter sweet kind of interest and to Lars he'd only be the one time appearance, the boy with his sleeves pulled right up and his face hidden in his hood.

Mathias would be nothing more than the boy who had fallen for the Dutchman's eyes but had to live with the knowledge those eyes would never know him.

How wrong he had been.

9
He barely remembered his youth but he remembered the first holiday he'd taken with his parents to Holland, how he loved the tulip fields and the villages that he had never been to living in Copenhagen. The ground as he ran bare foot through felt loose beneath his toes and the wind his hair as he sprinted through the flowers, sprinted away from his mother who was no doubt chasing after him in fear of where he'd go.

His laughter was spasmodic, coming in short bursts in between the mild panting, his laughter which turned to terrified screams as he was pulled up into his mother's arms. He wasn't ready to leave, not where he felt to free, so happy.

But if it weren't for her he wouldn't have seen the brunette who sat metres away from him with eyes the size of green saucers and hands just hovering over his ears. The contact between them lasted for as long as possible before the boy disappeared from his field of vision.

Something snapped within him at that age, a longing perhaps but he hoped with the bottom of his heart that maybe that boy would be happier than he had ever been, and more importantly that they would meet again in a more formal setting.

Oh how he had hoped.