Chapter 11
The intrepid adventurers craned their necks to stare up at the bell tower. The large bell at the top was dusted over and shrouded in spiders and cobwebs. An ominous blackbird fluttered out of the bell, pecking about at the top of the tower before taking flight with a haunting call.
The door to the bell tower was boarded up, but Ivan found a sturdy stick and pried off the boards with ease. He jangled the door handle, pushed his shoulder into the aged wood, and forced the door open. A cloud of dust mushroomed into the dark passage, illuminated by the moon beams slanting in through the small windows dotted up and down the walls of the stone tower.
"It's actually quite beautiful," Arthur said a bit dreamily, smiling at the milky bars of light and the dust motes dancing on the air.
"It's freaking creepy looking! Why can't we just go drink in the dorm?" Alfred asked nervously. Francis tangled his hand with Matthew's and nervously entered behind Ivan. Everything was deadly still in the tower, and it felt as though they were breaking into a tomb. Unable to help himself, Alfred latched onto Arthur's arm. Arthur shot him a questioning look, but Alfred was busy scanning the base of the tower nervously, his teeth chattering.
Suddenly, a loud clattering noise startled them all, and Yao bumped into Ivan nervously. The taller boy's big hand fell comfortingly on Yao's slender shoulder.
"Take it easy. It was just a large rat, I think," Ivan said, gesturing at where a pile of debris had shifted suddenly.
"Just a large rat? It was probably eating somebody's corpse!" Alfred moaned, pressing up closely against Arthur's side. The British royal flushed with color, and stood up a little straighter.
"So are we going to the top?" Arthur asked, moving towards the stairs. Alfred stayed right with him, still shivering in the cool, fall air.
"Da. Let's go." Ivan released Yao's shoulder and took the stairs two at a time, leaving the others to hurry after him. They climbed and climbed, battling past spider webs and creaking stairs, spiraling higher and higher until brief glimpses out the windows revealed the whole campus spread out like a glittering gem below them. The bell was massive up close, a huge golden structure, glittering dully in the moonlight. Arthur trailed his fingers through the dust, leaving Alfred to glance nervously from right to left.
"Do you think this floor is strong enough to hold our weight?" Francis asked, eying the warped boards distrustfully. Arthur bounced gently, walking across the floor and testing it's strength.
"Seems alright to me. Well, Ivan, I don't think your ghost is in attendance," Arthur concluded.
"Perhaps a little vodka will lure the ghosts out, da?" Ivan said, opening the bottle and taking a swig as he walked around the perimeter of the bell. Arthur took a seat near the window, and Alfred hastily sat beside him, their sides pressed tightly together.
"Nothing's going to happen, Alfred. It's just an old tower, that's all," Arthur soothed. Alfred, however, rolled himself into a tight little ball of limbs, still glancing suspiciously around the dusty room. Ivan passed the bottle to Arthur.
"This will put some hair on your chest," he said with a grin. Arthur delicately pressed the bottle to his lips, taking a small sip. It burned his taste buds and Arthur winced in displeasure. "Don't be a girl! Take a real drink!" Ivan goaded. Scrunching up his nose, Arthur hastily swayed the bottle up over his head in a graceful arc, grimacing as the shot of liquid burned down his throat. The bottle was passed to Francis, who imitated Arthur's actions.
"I wanna try, too!" Alfred peeped, for the first time seeming distracted from their location by the gently sloshing bottle of alcohol. Ivan smirked at Alfred as he took the bottle from a coughing Francis and passed it to the tall teenager.
"Maybe it will give you courage," Ivan said with a mocking chuckle. Alfred took a very large swig of the booze, perhaps trying to impress everyone, and actually managed to keep a straight face afterwards. At the after burn, his nose crinkled slightly in distaste.
"That stuff tastes awful," Alfred said, passing the bottle to Matthew. The soft-spoken boy took a tiny sip, shuddered, and hastily passed the bottle to Yao. Eyeing Ivan's assessing stare, Yao took a large drink, rivaling Alfred's. Ivan arched a silvery blond eyebrow, clearly impressed. When he'd swallowed, Yao wiped his mouth with the back of his hand but beyond that, showed no reaction.
"I sort of like it," he commented. Ivan smiled at him. He took the bottle and ran his fingers over the label, frowning a bit sadly as he did so.
"This is very good vodka. I would know—I was stealing the cheap shit when I was twelve, but this...this I took from my father's liquor cabinet," Ivan said, taking another long drag from the bottle. Surprisingly, Arthur reached for it again, initiating another round of shots among the group.
"This is my first time to drink," Alfred said, smiling a bit like a little boy who has done something naughty. "And I got my first kiss tonight, too." Arthur glanced at him, resigned, and intercepted the bottle on its course, skipping over Matthew and Yao. He took a long drink, and then he gave it to Matthew. Ivan rolled his eyes.
"Get your dick wet and then talk to me. I never thought my first friend would be such a pussy," Ivan said. Still, there was no doubt that his friendly tone held fondness—for whatever reason, he liked Alfred. Alfred blushed at Ivan's crude language and the implication that he was too innocent.
"I've been tipsy before," Arthur said. "Last New Year's—my parents let me have champagne, but they were rather far gone themselves, and I drank more than I ought to have. I'd like to be tipsy now. It was a rather nice feeling," Arthur said. He seemed very melancholy all of the sudden, as if Alfred's revelation and the depressing atmosphere of the tower caused all happiness to drain out of him. The bottle was passed to him a third time before Ivan claimed it again.
"Twelve is awfully young to drink alcohol," Yao commented mildly, glancing at Ivan over the tops of his knees.
"You are babies. You know nothing," Ivan said, seeming to catch Arthur's mood. He sat (rather heavily) next to the British royal and did another shot from the bottle. He'd begun drinking before the others, starting with a lighter proof alcohol during the school party, but his tolerance was high. He seemed to just barely feel the effects as he pulled off the scarf he always wore and spat on the ground beside him. It was the action of pulling away the scarf that caused Francis to notice something rather peculiar on his neck.
"You've got something on your neck, Ivan. It looks like a smudge of ink," Francis said. Ivan touched his own throat tenderly, right where the spot of ink was.
"That's a tattoo," he said. "My first one," he added after a moment of shocked silence.
"You have a tattoo?" Alfred asked, eyes as wide as saucers. Even Arthur looked momentarily surprised and distracted from his misery. Ivan's gaze settled on the bell, and he carefully peeled his collar down to reveal the wingspan of a blurry creature that appeared to be a bird.
"I gave this one to myself with the help of another boy—we mixed soot and piss and rigged up a needle to an electric razor. My father was proud, but I got a black eye for doing it all the same," Ivan said, smiling as if it were a fond family memory.
"You used...pee? Gross, dude!" Alfred replied. Ivan just laughed.
"It's how they do it in prison. My uncle filled my head with stories," Ivan replied, still smiling. Alfred, however, only frowned more.
"I'm pretty sure that's dangerous. And tattoos are, like, forever. What if you're sick of it later?" Alfred asked. Matthew nodded nearby, eyes round like saucers. Though Ivan sometimes said things that made them all wonder if he didn't lie a bit at times, concerning his blurry tattoo, he seemed to be telling the complete truth. Ivan shrugged his muscular shoulders carelessly.
"Tattoos earn respect where I am from. It is not the same in your culture, I think," Ivan replied. There was a long silence, in which nobody seemed sure of what to say. Perhaps forgetting others were listening in on his conversation with Ivan, Alfred asked him another question.
"How's it been going with the counselor?" Alfred asked, clearly worried by any mention Ivan made of his home life. Ivan shrugged.
"She thinks I am a liar. She asks questions, and I give her answers, and I can tell she does not believe me. She helps though, a little. Toris would sure as hell not be dancing with that loud-mouthed petukhi tonight if it were not for her. She has helped me learn to control my temper."
"Is that your only tattoo?" Yao asked. Ivan shook his head.
"Tattoos are very important to my family. You see, you cannot claim a tattoo that you have not earned. This tattoo is a bird. It means freedom. But I did not earn it like I should have, and so that is why my father punished me. Still, he was proud I could take the pain. I was thirteen or so. I have since earned one."
"What did you do to earn it?" Arthur asked, looking a little unsettled by the topic. Despite the cold, Ivan lifted up his shirt and heavy sweater to reveal a sharp outline of a cat on his rib cage.
"It was for thievery. I stole something very valuable from an enemy of my uncle. My uncle is a vor. My father is not, and they argue about it sometimes...which path I should follow."
"A vor?" Matthew asked curiously.
"It means a man who follows the code of theives. You earn vor tattoos in prison, but my father has made it very clear I will not spend any time there. Vor follow strict rules. They can't ever work for the government or obey the police, they can only earn money through criminal activities, and they can't show emotions. When my father decided I would go to school, my uncle gave me this tattoo anyway, thinking I would give up on this school shit and follow the vor path, regardless of my father's wishes. He wants me to have at least one tattoo before I landed myself in prison."
"You don't have to go back, ya know," Alfred said quietly, but with burning intensity. "You can come stay with me this summer." Ivan smiled at his American friend.
"It's warm there, da? I am tempted. But I will obey my father, just as you will obey yours."
Arthur stared between the boys, feeling a bit muddled by the vodka, wondering how two boys so completely different in ideologies could have become friends. One was a nerdy poster boy for good behavior while the other was a few years away from immersing himself in a life of crime. Still, Alfred had bonded with Ivan somehow, and they had their own special friendship just like Alfred had with Matthew.
"So you saw Toris with Feliks at the dance?" Alfred asked, seemingly the only one brave enough (or insensitive enough) to broach the topic. Ivan, however, just smiled.
"Toris was fun for awhile, but he is like all the others. He fears me. I could see it in his eyes, and it made me want to give him a reason to really be frightened. It's bad enough to take it in the ass—worse to be a weak little bitch on top of that."
"I'm letting that slide tonight since your drunk, but I've told you not to talk about Toris that way. He's still my friend," Alfred said, though his own words were a little slurred. Ivan shrugged.
"I admit, he was sweeter than the others, but I could not stand how he pitied me. Let him do what he pleases. I pity him for choosing such a weak replacement."
"Why would he pity you?" Yao asked. The Chinese boy scooted closer, snagging the bottle from Ivan and taking a long sip. Across the room, Matthew was half in Francis's lap, and their nuzzling and cuddling in the cold was becoming more and more suggestive. Arthur watched them not-so-subtly, a fierce scowl on his face.
"Because my mother is dead and my father is a hard man. To make it worse, I prefer to fuck boys. My father turns a blind eye, but there will be expectations of me, probably as early as this summer."
"Expectations?" Yao asked.
"Female prostitutes," Ivan replied, closing his eyes as if he were no longer really present. Alfred blinked several times across the room, scowling.
"Did you say what I think you said?" he asked.
"No," Ivan replied. "I said nothing. Your boyfriend looks lonely. Why don't you pay him some attention and let Yao and I talk a bit?"
Easily distracted, Alfred scooted closer to Arthur again and nuzzled his shoulder.
"Why're you lonely, Arthur? All our friends are here. I'm here," Alfred said. Not in a much better state than Alfred, Arthur intertwined their hands and slumped against his roommate's taller frame.
"You kissed fatty Patty."
"It didn't feel like anything. She was all happy, but I didn't feel anything," Alfred said confusedly. "Arthur, why didn't I feel anything?"
Ivan watched their conversation for a moment, smiling, before turning to Yao and reaching out rather abruptly to feel the silkiness of his long hair.
"Like a girl," Ivan said. Another smile. "Perhaps I should take you home this summer and prove I can fuck a girl as well as any boy."
Feeling bolder, his sense of self-preservation gone, Yao smacked Ivan's hand away.
"I am not a girl. You're drunk," Yao said irritably. Ivan nodded.
"Da. Aren't you?" Ivan asked. Yao did feel a little unsteady, as if he had ridden a fast amusement park ride and just stepped off, but he didn't know if that was what being drunk felt like.
"Maybe. Why do you watch me all the time?" Yao asked. Ivan smirked.
"Why do you try to get at me through Alfred? Ever since your birthday party, you ask him about me. You think I don't know?" Ivan asked. "Are you too nervous to tell me you like me?"
"I'm too nervous to ask for your help," Yao blurted out, without meaning to at all. Maybe he was a little drunk. Ivan was studying him silently now, as if trying to fight past the influence of the vodka to understand what was being said.
"Help...with what?" Ivan asked.
"Help for my father. He wants me to talk to you about business matters, but you don't like it when students here do that—approach you about your family."
"No, I don't like that at all. I beat the shit out of them."
"That's why I was nervous," Yao explained. "But my father has expectations of me, as well. He might lose most of my family's fortune. I shouldn't be telling you this. I don't want to ask your help. I want my father to solve his own problems...but I worry for his safety. He has crossed the Triads."
"So you come to me to ask for help for your father, knowing I might beat up your pretty little face for doing so?"
"You won't," Yao said, with absolute certainty. Ivan raised a questioning brow, but smiled.
"Oh I won't? What makes you so sure?"
"You like me...or, at the very least, you like how I look."
"Da, I do," Ivan said. He leaned in close to Yao, his grip tightening in his silky black hair, his breath reeking of alcohol as he whispered in Yao's ear. "Sleep with me, and I will help you."
"I am not one of your father's prostitutes. I will find some other way to help my father," Yao said, pulling back sharply and glaring hotly at the slightly drunken older boy. "I may want your help, but I do not need it. My family will endure without you."
Ivan smiled at him, a genuine smile that was both fond and amused.
"You are proud, and stronger than you look, like Alfred...less annoying, though. Forget what I said. I will help you if I can. You don't have to give me anything," Ivan decided. Yao eyed the taller boy's rosy lips and disheveled hair, his eyes that were so blue they almost looked violet. He leaned forward as if mesmerized, wanting Ivan and yet wishing he did not at the same time. He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, and for a long moment, they simply sat like that, breathing the same air, their gazes locked.
"Are you going to kiss me?" Ivan asked. Yao blinked slowly, and then pulled away.
"No. Not until I'm different from all the others. I don't want to kiss you until you'll feel it."
"Maybe I can't feel anymore?" Ivan asked, strangely child-like. Yao gently touched his hair, almost the shade of snow, and marveled at how different they were from each other.
"Maybe you can't. Only time will tell," Yao said.
The moment was broken when a strangely forceful wind burst in through the window with an eerie moan. A cloud passed over the moon and they were pitched into darkness. Alfred, who had just a second before dozed off on Arthur's shoulder, let out a girlie scream.
"It's the dead chick! She's got my arm!" Alfred yelled. Matthew let out a cry and stumbled off Francis, who had been lovingly (if not a little sloppily) suckling on Matthew's neck. At the same time, Alfred and Matthew began running for the stairs. Arthur felt whatever had gripped Alfred brush against his own arm—an icy cold sensation that froze his skin even through layers of fabric, and decided retreating from the unknown was the best option. He stumbled after Alfred and tripped over Yao in his haste. Drunk and suddenly terrified by the awful moaning noises and the strange fluttering sound that filled the tower in the darkness, the boys practically fell over each other to get down the stairs. They descended much faster than they'd climbed, and they tumbled out into the night air rosy cheeked and breathless. They streaked for the dorms, running as hard as they could, pumping their young legs like the devil himself was chasing them down. They didn't stop until they reached the already quiet boy's dormitory and all stood panting heavily in the darkness.
"What happened tonight..." Arthur began, realizing that quite a bit of rather personal information had been shared.
"We can't ever talk about it to anyone else! It's gotta be a pact! We can' t let the other kids know the school is haunted," Alfred whispered far too loudly. Yao and Ivan's gazes met, and a silent understanding passed between them. Something was different between them now, but neither of them could quite pinpoint how.
"It has been a very interesting Halloween, but it's time for me to go to bed," Yao said quietly. "Good night." He headed a few rooms down and disappeared into the room he shared with Kiku. Francis, yawning and shaking his head a bit as if the whole night had just been a strange dream, looped his arm around Matthew's waist and guided the shorter boy to their room. Neither Francis nor Matthew even bothered to say good night.
"We should drink together again sometime. It doesn't take much booze to get you all hammered," Ivan said with his boyish grin.
"You messed around with Yao," Alfred said, though he hardly seemed to know or understand what he was saying. Ivan just grinned and patted his friend heartily on the back.
"You should sleep with your roommate tonight. Otherwise that dead girl might come back for you," Ivan said. Alfred let out a pitiful whine of fright and clung to Arthur's arm once more, burying his face in the shorter boy's shoulder.
"Thanks, Ivan," Arthur griped sarcastically. The tall Russian boy just laughed, disappearing into his own room.
"Well...come on, I suppose. I'm not sure what happened up there, but I'm sure there's a perfectly sound explanation," Arthur said tiredly, beginning to sober up some from the long run through the cold. Alfred, however, stuck to him like glue all the way into their room and into Arthur's bed.
USUK
The following Saturday dawned far too bright and early for Arthur's tastes. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and his stomach was demanding food. He seemed to be in a much better state than Alfred, however, who woke up with an embarrassing tent in his pants and the need to puke. Both boys were still tangled up in Arthur's bed, a little sweaty and haphazardly dressed, both of them feeling very awkward.
"Err...it's normal. Happens to me, too. Just...err..." Arthur tried to shift from under his taller roommate and only managed to give Alfred some rather strong friction. The taller boy let out an embarrassed moan, which quickly turned into a nasty belch, followed by a mad dash to the toilet.
"Urggh," Alfred moaned pathetically. With a sigh and an eye roll, Arthur trudged into the bathroom after his roommate. Alfred was expelling the contents of his stomach in a rather violent fashion, muttering all the while, "Never again!" Arthur was relieved to see his morning 'problem' had at least faded for the moment. Arthur gave his roommate's shoulder a comforting squeeze and then fetched him a glass of water.
"Here," Arthur offered. "Want something for the headache?"
"Yes, please," Alfred begged pitifully. Arthur went to get some aspirin from his bag and swallowed two tablets dry before bringing some to his roommate.
"At least we don't have class," Arthur said. Alfred nodded, wiping his mouth as he finally pulled away from the toilet bowl.
"What the hell happened last night? I remember us going up into the tower..."
"Nothing much. We just sat around talking. Francis and Matthew made out...and you told me...err...well, it's not really important," Arthur said.
"What did I say?" Alfred asked in a tone that suggested he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
"You started talking about Patty, that's all."
"Oh," Alfred said, as if he suddenly knew what he had confessed.
"Yeah," Arthur replied, shifting awkwardly from side to side before deciding to give Alfred a moment of privacy. "Hurry up in the loo," he said, pulling the door closed. Alfred used the toilet the way it was intended to be used, still rubbing his queasy stomach, and then brushed his teeth for much longer than he usually did. He let his roommate in and went to his bed, collapsing on top of the covers and groaning when he realized it was only seven in the morning. A blush darkened his cheeks as his dream from the night before came back to him—he'd been with someone in the tower, but it had just been the two of them, and the girl ('Was it a girl?' his brain questioned) touched him in such a fantastic way, and then that awful icy sensation was drowning him, and he woke up in a cold sweat rutting against his roommate. Awkward. No other word for it. Alfred groaned and rolled into his pillow, cursing how easily his dreams got him worked up.
He had rugby practice in three hours, but he really didn't want to go. Even breakfast sounded horrible, and usually Alfred only woke up in the morning because of the temptation presented by four sausage biscuits, hash browns, bacon, and eggs. What a weird, strange night, followed by an awkward, terrible morning. It was either the vodka or Ivan's fault—probably both. Alfred decided to blame his friend the next time they crossed paths.
Arthur emerged from the bathroom looking much fresher, having taken the time to shower. He paused at Alfred's bed as if he were going to sit beside him, but moved to his own bed instead.
"We got drunk," he said flatly. Alfred covered his eyes with his arm, clearly trying to block out the morning.
"Why the heck do people drink if this is how you feel afterwards?"
"It was nice for awhile. I was...upset last night, but the booze made it not matter as much," Arthur said, clearly choosing his words carefully.
"Why were you upset?" Alfred asked, half sitting up, concern in his voice. Arthur swallowed thickly and then glanced to the large window, a light blush on his cheeks.
"You kissed her. I knew you would when I saw you in the hallway with her, but I guess I didn't want you to do it, all the same," Arthur said with painful honesty. Alfred was silent for a long moment before he spoke.
"I didn't think you'd be jealous of me getting kissed first."
Arthur bit his lip. His friend was giving him an out, and he was very tempted to take it. He could pretend that was all it was, and he knew they'd go back to how they were before. But if he didn't...Alfred might not feel the same way he did. Alfred might not want him to confess. Perhaps that was why he was misinterpreting his words? Arthur crossed his arms over his knees and pressed his face into his arms.
"So I'm jealous. Whatever," Arthur mumbled. Alfred rolled onto his side, his back facing Arthur.
"You could have anyone you wanted," Alfred said, now sounding as if he were the jealous one.
Arthur scowled. 'I can't have you, though, and nobody else matters,' he thought bitterly.
"The shower's all yours. Trust me, you should use it. You smell bloody awful," Arthur said a bit snidely, feeling rather vulnerable. With an irritated grunt, his roommate disappeared into the bathroom. Arthur imagined angrily what his roommate would probably do in the shower with thoughts of Patty or god-knows-who on his brain. Had he dreamed about a girl last night? Alfred thought he was sneaky in the mornings, using the shower in such an unconventional way, but Arthur always knew. Alfred usually sang in the shower and when he was trying so desperately to be quiet, there was only one conclusion Arthur could reach.
'You haven't done that since home. Maybe that's why you're so worked up around him. I should spend this weekend at home and get away from him for a bit. I just need a chance to get control of myself,' Arthur thought with resolve. That was surely it. He was just repressed, and being in such close proximity to someone else was screwing up his libido.
USUK
When Alfred returned from rugby practice, the room felt much emptier. Arthur's suitcase was packed, and his favorite sweater was gone from its normal place on the back of the desk chair. For a moment, Alfred panicked and thought their strange fight (was it a fight?) that morning had made Arthur want to give up on being his roommate, but he soon found this was only partially true. A note on his bed informed him that Arthur had decided to spend the rest of the weekend with his parents. There was no reason given, but Alfred couldn't help but feel it had something to do with him.
'Of course it has something to do with you, freaking idiot! You practically dry humped him this morning and barely avoided puking all over him!' Alfred thought angrily. Exhausted from being knocked around for an hour during practice, and sent running all over the field, Alfred flopped down as if boneless on his bed. His eyes shifted to Arthur's empty side of the room, specifically to the spare pillow, where Alfred had sneakily observed Arthur hiding a journal once when he thought Alfred was occupied with his video games.
"I shouldn't look," Alfred said firmly. He purposefully trained his eyes on the ceiling, but after only a few seconds, they slid back over to the inconspicuous looking pillow. "Gah! Stop thinking about it, Al! It's probably just notes on his sewing projects or something! I'd freak if he found my online journal. Don't go through his things."
Alfred swung his legs over the side of the bed, eyes locked on the pillow now, like a lion fixated on a rather tasty looking zebra.
"If he didn't want me to read it, he wouldn't leave it," Alfred reasoned. He crossed the room slowly, knowing he should stop and yet he was unable to do so. Not wanting to ruffle the perfectly made bed, Alfred tried to feel for the book as unobtrusively as possible, one ear cocked towards the door for any signs of unexpected entry.
All his worry was for nothing. Arthur had clearly taken the journal with him.
Feeling annoyed with himself for doing something so underhanded, Alfred vowed to leave Arthur's things alone and go find either Ivan or Matthew to waste the rest of the weekend, and put thoughts of Arthur firmly out of his mind.
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this didn't come the day after all those updates. I started it then but this chapter was like pulling teeth. No clue why. That's why it's also short. A few notes, though:
A couple people have mentioned the 'aru' thing in Yao's speech pattern, but I haven't been using it intentionally. From what I've read, it was meant to mock how Chinese people speak Japanese, and since they are all speaking English in this story (unless otherwise stated, like how Matthew and Francis speak French when alone) I doubt he would use a Japanese word randomly. Thanks for the constructive criticism, though! I'm going to continue leaving it out, but I really do appreciate you guys taking the time to suggest it, since I was nervous about writing him and didn't really know what I was doing, lol.
The term Ivan uses to describe Poland in this chapter is the term given to prison bitches in Russia. Though Ivan says he's controlling his temper better, I'm still toying with the idea of him getting in some trouble by trying to get a little revenge on Toris. I haven't decided yet just how much of a troublemaker I want him to be. I like to think he was really bad his first year, and has since cooled it some so he doesn't get kicked out, since he's starting to like school better than the alternative (probably landing himself in prison). Ivan also made mention of the Russian vor, which are an especially crazy breed of Russian criminal. While lots of Russian crime has turned into college-educated men money laundering, smuggling, gambling, and conducting illegal business activities behind the face of multi-million dollar corporations (which is what I picture Ivan's father doing) there are a whole breed of criminals that basically aim to land themselves in prison and deal more in prostitution and drug trafficking, which is what Ivan's uncle does.
A reviewer pointed out there hasn't been a whole lot of sexual awkwardness yet, for two boys sharing a room, and I totally agreed with him. I was holding off because I didn't want it to lead into dangerous territory (e.g. me rushing things) but after nearly two and a half months together I think it was time to confront the morning erection/jerking off aspect of teenage boyhood, lol. Hope it wasn't too graphic. This story will get more graphic later on, but I'll change the rating when it does.