Yes hi hello I suck at updating but that is nothing new. This is the last day of my spring break so um don't expect another update until summer break, sorry guys! I'm trying though, and look, an update! I haven't forgotten or given up on this story yet. I'm fond of this chapter and I just marathonned writing 10k words of it since late last night so I am very frazzled. I have a lot of things to say about this chapter, actually, but none of them are that important. I hope you enjoy it, though!

"I'm schweating ballsch out here."

Nathan, Pickles and Toki sent a collective glare at Murderface; Dick sighed and tipped his head back. It was hot, milling about an uninteresting October festival at three in the afternoon, but if Murderface complained one more goddamned time, Toki was possibly going to murder his face. Murderface was wearing that leather jacket again, along with jeans and combat boots, while the rest were clad in shorts and t-shirts. Dick had suggested that if Murderface dress more appropriately he might not suffer in life as much, which caused Murderface to actively ignore him, and now a sort of tension buzzed between them that the other guys felt awkward being around. But, Toki thought as they approached a cart selling drinks, there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Pickles bought a bottle of water for Toki and Toki held it to his head, closing his eyes and moaning at the cold. He was sensitive to heat-induced headaches and suffered one now, dull pain throbbing orange behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes and hurried to catch up when he heard footsteps. The five of them walked over to an area with benches occupied by young mothers with young children and filled two benches between the five of them, Toki wedged in with Pickles and Dick. They'd arrived just ten minutes ago, figuring that since it was a festival there'd surely be something to do to occupy them for an hour before Fuckface Academy came on. They were wrong; the festival sucked balls and mostly showcased American consumerism, the band currently playing sucked balls, the weather sucked balls, everything sucked balls. Toki, despite the buzzing, anticipatory experiencing he'd been housing for days, had to agree that this was probably not the best time he'd ever have in his life. He still felt pretty happy and bouncy with anticipation, though.

"Scheriouschly, guysch," Murderface said, extending his legs and stretching his arms far above his head, "it'sch fucking hot." Murderface sat with Nathan on the bench beside Toki's, and between the two of them nobody else could've fit. Nathan's size consisted of muscle, Murderface's of fat and leather malodorous with sweat. He had horrible pit stains crawling down his sides, almost to the hem of his pants, and Toki could only imagine the stench he emitted.

"We know that, sweetheart," Dick snipped. He covered his eyes with his left hand and looked off to the side, right hand gripping his elbow. "You've told us. Several times." He had his hair pulled back in a tight, shiny ponytail, sunglasses on his head like he was trying to appear as a hotshot producer, and Pickles had laughed about it to Nathan when Dick had come through the gates to meet them.

"The fuck are we gonna do for an hour?" Nathan said, punctuating the question with a long, cheast-heaving groan. "There's nothing to do."

"We could walk somewhere and come back," Pickles suggested. "There's a gelato—" but he was unable to finish his sentence, as everybody began laughing at the way he said gelato. Pickles crossed his arms. The novelty of his accent hadn't worn off with age and though everyday words lost their appeal, this was perhaps the first time Toki had heard Pickles say gelato, and holy shit did he say it weirdly, a flat a and a long o in that whiny pitch. Toki had to admit it was pretty funny and snorted (rather discreetly, he thought) himself.

But because Pickles seemed sort of upset, Toki scrounged for something to say in Norwegian, because the guys thought the language sounded hilarious. It kind of did, but Toki felt that it had an underlying beauty to it that he didn't care if the other guys didn't see. "Jada, la oss få noe kaldt," he said, exaggerating his own accent quite a bit and accompanying the phrase with overdone, touristy hand motions. It slayed the other guys, even Pickles, and he sent Toki an appreciative smile.

Eventually the band currently playing was replaced with another band that sucked marginally less balls and Toki and the guys wandered over to watch, buying churros from a vender on the way. Murderface complained about his and announced his intentions to give his complaints to the vender; Dick wandered off to find a bathroom. Nathan, Pickles and Toki inspected the stalls, spending some time at a local fruit and vegetable seller, picking out the phallic foods and laughing at them, making jokes about who matched what fruit in size and shape the best and holding them in front of their crotches like the mature young men they were. Toki sort of felt like a third wheel and hung back, watching as Pickles picked through what everybody was selling and Nathan stood beside him, making noises of agreement whenever Pickles expressed an opinion and occasionally offering his own. Eventually Dick and Murderface found them once more, both mumbling unhappily about their respective experiences away from the herd, and they returned to meandering around and getting on people's nerves with their brashness, which Toki felt bad about until he remembered where he was and what he was doing. Then he got pumped.

Skwisgaar was easy to notice in a crowd, everything about him remarkable, but mostly because he towered above everybody else. They passed the churro stand for the fifth time, the vender glaring at Murderface, when Toki saw Skwisgaar and the rest of his band approaching the stage. Skwisgaar glided, swanlike and elegant; the other guys wandered behind him, sluggish and nonchalant. Toki wanted to tug on Pickles's shirtsleeve and point, but instead he said, "Guys, I think's that them, Fuckface Academy," and did some half-step dance thing as he went to turn in the direction of the band, then stopped, then started walking with his friends again.

"Oh, thank the lordsch," Murderface said, and he changed his direction towards the stage. The rest followed him, and Toki felt like somebody had just thrown a bucket of water over him, overcome with eagerness and excitement. Dick tittered beside him, straightening his clothes and his sunglasses, presumably trying to look professional. Murderface was still actively ignoring Dick and making a sort of show out of it; he kept failing at starting conversations with people walking past them, asking some old lady about her teacup Chihuahua and stealing a shaved ice from a little boy, slurping at the artificially red chips with his abnormally small tongue. Dick didn't seem to notice, his eyes transfixed on Attending Fuckface Academy, licking his lips over and over again.

"So after this we can leave this gay-ass festival, right?" Nathan said as he tried to compact himself into a foldable chair on the lawn in front of the stage. It was not going well. "God, this sucks ass."

Toki shushed Nathan and leaned forward. He sat between Pickles and Dick as usual, Nathan beside Pickles and Murderface beside Nathan. Dick finally acknowledged Murderface and kept looking between him and the stage. Toki was trying very hard not to stare as Fuckface Academy set up, but he couldn't help it. Skwisgaar was not involved; he was off to the side of the stage, leaning against it and resting his elbows on it, smoking a cigarette that look like it'd been hastily rolled by hand. Toki felt something burst inside of him like fireworks, individual sparks flying through his chest, when Skwisgaar dropped the cigarette, rubbed it out with the heel of his studded leather boots, caught Toki's eye and walked over in his direction.

"How do I look?" he asked Pickles, out of instinct. Pickles raised his eyebrows at him, double eyebrow rings catching the sun and hurting Toki's eyes, and said nothing.

Toki stood and shook Skwisgaar's hand—rough, calloused, unsurprising considering his career. Skwisgaar had his hair pulled back, a few too-short strands falling on his cheekbones, eyes narrowed and eyebrows knitted, plush lips tight. He was wearing a black t-shirt a few sizes too big, tucked behind his Swedish flag belt buckle as always, and extremely distressed white jeans, boots hiding underneath. There was sweat on his hairline, and Toki looked everywhere but at his eyes, afraid to meet them. Instead he examined the faint frown lines, the cut of his jaw, the contours of his cheeks, and the empty piercing holes in his ears; Toki counted three, two in the lobe, one on the cartilage, and wondered why Skwisgaar wasn't wearing any earrings.

"Hellos, ja?" Skwisgaar said, and gave Toki's hand a final shake and bringing him back into the conversation. "Yous comes."

"Yeah, I comes," Toki said. He flushed. Skwisgaar raised a single eyebrow but otherwise ignored Toki's slip.

"And yous brings your friends." Skwisgaar scanned the four guys still sitting, and Toki did too; Pickles was whispering something in Nathan's ear; Nathan was slouching, uninterested in the world, though he grunted an appreciative laughter at whatever Pickles had to say; Dick was staring at Skwisgaar like he was a piece of meat slightly too expensive to afford and he had to recalculate his budget because he really felt like steak that night; and Murderface had fallen asleep, snoring and twitching. Skwisgaar laughed.

"Yeah, that Murderface," Toki said, chuckling a little himself. He felt pathetic and uncool in the present company, though he supposed Nathan and Pickles weren't too bad. "So, um. How are you?"

"I just comes over here to sees yous," Skwisgaar said. "I ams glad you ams able to makes it. Good show tonight. Stays around afterwards. Yous, not your, ah, friends, ja?" Skwisgaar did not look at Toki while he said this but behind him. At what, Toki could not know, because he was focused on Skwisgaar's Adam's apple, as that was what he was at eyelevel with. He watched it bob as Skwisgaar talked, overcome with the impulse to reach up and lick it, resisting the urge to make a bobbing for apples joke in his head. At least the pun was festive, considering Halloween was the next day and they were standing in an October festival.

"Okay, ja, I does that," Toki said, cursing himself at the terrible English that he was quickly succumbing to. He took so much pride in his ability to master languages, too. "I, um, don't have a ride, though—"

Skwisgaar shrugged and put a hand over Toki's mouth to get him to shut up and then walked away without another word. Toki fell into his seat and licked his lips again and again, mouth open, rotating motion until his saliva faded into his skin. It tasted like cigarettes.

Toki ignored Pickles's badgering as he watched Skwisgaar return to the stage. The rest of the band was ready behind their instruments, Skwisgaar's beautiful guitar awaiting him onstage. He strolled behind it and took it in his arms in a fluid motion, his body dipping inwards as he hunched, sending pangs vibrating inside of Toki. Mark Skively took the microphone and tapped it a couple times, signaling attention. The seats in front of them were halfway filled with bored, apathetic festival-goers. Toki was leaning forward in his seat, gripping the plastic edge with such force he was losing feeling in his fingers, mouth still open.

"The first song we're gonna play is some shit Skwisgaar forced us to, I don't know," Mark said, laughing a bit. Three people in the audience stood up and left. "So—" Three additional people stood up and left. "Okay, I'm going to shut up and play, now." Under his breath he mumbled, "it's a cover of a song called Honey Bunny by a band called Girls, you unappreciative fucks," but since he hadn't removed the microphone from his mouth, the audience heard it. More people left; Nathan was bellowing and Pickles snickering with laughter.

The song was not very grunge at all, with soft vocals and an uncomplicated guitar chord and drum beat backing it up, and Toki tried very hard not to overanalyze the fact that Skwisgaar picked this song and what the lyrics said. Skwisgaar's face was screwed up throughout it, like he was annoyed, more so than usual. The song slowed in the middle and Mark crooned, getting down on his knees and everything, and people continued to leave the seats until Toki, his friends, and a handful of other individuals were the only ones left. Toki still gripped the edge of his seat, hands aching. He felt perched for flight, on some natural high that could take him out of this world, and his loneliness in that feeling made the show even more special to him.

Fuckface Academy played a couple more original songs that they hadn't played at the concert. They were a fountain of jumbled, half-written musical messes; without Mark's in-between chatting and announcing of the song titles, it all sort of ran together, the same noisy shit one after the other with only minutely different chords and beats and lyrics. Mark worked up a sweat bouncing around a stage and at one point slipped and slammed his knee, rattling the whole structure. He sprung right back up and limped around, cursing and out of breath through the song, though it sort of made it better. Toki heard Nathan telling Pickles how fuckin' metal it was, wholly without sarcasm. Toki saw Skwisgaar smirk to himself at Mark's antics and felt very connected to him, though he continued to look away whenever Skwisgaar caught his eye.

About half an hour in Mark stopped, wiped his face with a towel that'd been sitting at the front of the stage, took a huge gulp of water and raised the microphone to speak again. "Okay, I'm sorry for this, but I gotta explain some shit before this next one. This was not my fuckin' idea, okay? So if this sucks, blame him, not me. Skwisgaar's being all weird and shit and wanted to, like, specialize this show or something, I don't know, what a Swede, am I right? Anyway, he's gonna sing some song he wrote. It's, like, really fucking gay, and it's called Gray Skies, Blue Eyes or something like that, I don't even fuckin' know. Enjoy it. You probably won't, but fuck it, I'm out." He dropped his mic to the stage; the noise that resulted woke Murderface from his slumber and he sputtered, grabbing Dick's knee and asking where the gun was. Dick offered no response.

Skwisgaar took his own microphone and sighed, then shrugged. The band began to play again; there was maybe ten seconds of instrumentals before Skwisgaar began to sing, but it felt like ten years to Toki, whom was filled to the brim with frothy anticipation. Skwisgaar had a rich baritone of a singing voice, smooth and natural, and every time he hit a note it sent a shiver through Toki's body. By the end he was covered in goose bumps and crying quietly and without tears. His body shook, bones crumbling to the bottom of his belly, all of his internal organs shutting down; he saw the light, felt born again, like he'd been resurrected out of a religious experience. Pickles asked him if he was okay and Toki ignored him, relaxing his grip on his chair and sitting back in his seat, spreading his trembling knees wide. He felt like he'd just came and needed a short nap to recover, but his friends were already rising around him, poking and prodding him with questions.

"We leavin'?" Pickles asked, literally physically prodding Toki by jostling his knee.

"Oh, yeah, about that," Toki said, and he rose out of his seat slowly, like awakening from the deepest slumber one could possibly experience. He forgot how to walk and stand momentarily and almost collapsed. "Skwisgaar, um. He asked me to stick around."

"Oh?" Dick and Pickles made the noise simultaneously; Dick elbowed Pickles out of the way to stand face-to-face with Toki, slamming his hands on Toki's shoulders. "Well then, I guess we will too." Dick shook Toki a little. "Don't. Fuck. This. Up," he hissed, leaning in close; Toki stared at his reflection in Dick's dark sunglasses.

"Douchebag," Pickles muttered, shoving Dick out of the way and replacing Dick's hands with his own on Toki's shoulders. He did not lean in nose-bumping, uncomfortably close. "Don't be a trashy whore and fuck on the first date," Pickles said. "And if you do, well, good for you. Anyway. Don't really have that much advice. Let me know how it goes. We'll meet you back here at, like, a quarter till one, okay?" Pickles released Toki with force and Toki stumbled backwards, almost falling. His friends left him while he tripped, Pickles announcing that they were going to get gelato and putting effort into pronouncing it properly; he failed miserably. Toki watched Nathan throw an arm around Pickles's shoulders to keep himself steady as he laughed heartily and walked at the same time, a complicated task.

Skwisgaar wandered over, found Toki and threw an arm around him, taking Toki completely by surprise. Skwisgaar did not smell pleasantly but he did smell delightfully, pheromones smacking Toki in the face. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep against Skwisgaar's side, but Skwisgaar seemed to be leading him towards the stage, towards the band, which were packing up while Skwisgaar watched with an arm around Toki still. Toki was not used to the warm weight of the extension of another person and it was strange, but it was not unwelcome.

"Yous remember their names, ja?" Skwisgaar asked, looking down at Toki. Toki kept his head tucked, still afraid to meet eye contact and baffled by Skwisgaar's calmness.

"The singer is Mark," Toki said, "and you're Skwisgaar, and…um…"

Skwisgaar laughed, the condescending nature of it setting Toki at ease. He felt Skwisgaar's body shake against his and instinctively moved closer to it, their hips bumping. "The rhythym ams George, Georgey boy, he ams horrible. The drummer ams Ritchie, he ams horrible, too."

Toki, now gripping Skwisgaar's arm around him with his right hand, looked up at Skwisgaar. "Can I be honest with you?" he asked him, nerves swelling. Fuckface Academy were indifferent to Skwisgaar and Toki as they continued to assemble their shit and move in a generally offstage direction; the next band, some folksy Eastern European folks by the look of it, tapped their feet with their hands on their hips on the opposite side of the stage. They had instruments Toki did not know the name of, legitimate, wooden things in oblong shapes.

Skwisgaar looked down, face flat in what Toki hoped to be an indifferent manner, and said,"Ja?"

Toki inhaled deeply and tightened his hold, rubbing Skwisgaar's wrist with his thumb in little circles absentmindedly. "Your band is really fucking bad."

Skwisgaar let go of Toki and cackled, two hands on his stomach. When he finished he went to run a hand through his hair and fucked up his ponytail; as he was redoing it he said, "I knows, little Toki, I knows. Fuckface Academy ams horrible. But, it ams good for me, at de moments."

"Hvorfor?" Toki asked, and then he groaned. "I mean, why?"

"I knows what yous means," Skwisgaar said. "Remembers, I speaks Swedish, similar languages. Anyways. I am sleepingks at Mark's apartment with de rest of de band and we ams havingks shows most nights. De band sucks, but it ams new and Mark knows many peoples," Skwisgaar explained. He put his arm around Toki again and gestured towards Mark, calling his name. Mark fastened the clasp on his bass case and took it off stage, the last thing they had to do before making way for the Eastern European folks, and came over as the next band began to fill the stage with themselves.

"Yeah?" Mark asked Skwisgaar. He looked towards Toki and then extended a hand to him; Toki shook it. Mark had similarly callused hands, but they were significantly smaller, and Mark was shorter than Toki, which was sort of weird. Mark had a boyish face that made him seem a lot younger than what Toki assumed he was.

"This ams Toki," Skwisgaar said. "You remembers him from de other night?"

"No," Mark said. He shook his head; his bangs flounced against his forehead, and Toki saw he had sort of an acne-ridden face, deep scarring around his sideburns and on his forehead. "I don't. Are you picking up roadies already, Skwis?"

Toki felt Skwisgaar twitch at Skwis, but Skwisgaar said nothing about that. "No, I ams goingks to takes him out downtown. You guys leaves without me, ja?"He was smiling, as was Mark, but neither smiles reached their eyes, Toki noted as he tracked the conversation between them.

"What time are you gonna be back? We have to, like, practice and shit tonight. We have that party gig tomorrow." Mark pulled his phone from his back pocket and checked it, rolling his eyes at something he saw on the screen. "Look, it's almost six o'clock, you can have, like, five hours with the kid."

Toki made a face at being called the kid but it was his turn to say nothing about it. "It ams your band, but you ams not de manager," Skwisgaar said, fake politeness oozing in his voice. Toki felt generally uncomfortable and wanted to get away from Mark; he was already looking forward to being taken out downtown. "I does what I wants. I ams not needingks to practice, yous and George and Ritchie ams."

Mark went to say something and stopped, then scowled. "Fuck it," Mark said, and he walked away, returning to the pile of instruments and equipment the band now had to load. Skwisgaar led Toki away in the direction of the gates that would take them from the festival and to the border between the business district and the actual downtown.

"Sorry about dat," Skwisgaar said. He took his arm from around Toki's shoulders and pulled out his cigarettes and a lighter—a basic lighter, black, that took him a couple times to actually light. "You smokes?" He asked, proffering Toki the carton of cigarettes, which were much more impressive. In it were a couple of joints as well, rolled in nice white paper and hiding nestled in the rows.

"Only these," Toki said, pointing to the joints.

Skwisgaar chuckled. "Ofs course." He selected a cigarette for himself and put the carton back in his front pocket. "We'll smokes those later. I knows a good spot, if you ams scared about gettingks arrested."

"I'm not scared," Toki said, though he did feel sort of scared. Mostly he felt exhilarated and excited, every inch of his body alive and alight with expectation and experience. At the gates they turned left and started their trek downtown, soldiering through the ghetto part towards the more urbane section. Toki went downtown all the time but it felt different today, walking alongside a smoking Skwisgaar who routinely pointed towards people or things to talk about them: "Sees dat girl? She gives good head." "Mark's coke dealer ams hangingks out at dat store all de time." "We played a show there once. Good venue. If we plays there again, you should comes."

"How long have you been with Fuckface Academy?" Toki asked at one point, after they'd been walking for about ten minutes. Skwisgaar had finished his cigarette and had replaced the arm around Toki, which make Toki very happy indeed. Downtown they didn't garner that many looks, at least not judging ones; people all of all kinds regularly stared at Skwisgaar though, and he winked back at the more attractive ones. Toki found it amusing.

"Couple of months," Skwisgaar said. "When I gets to Florida I ams lost, so I wanders around. I ends up here, downtown, and I sees flyers for Fuckface Academy. They needs a guitarist. I ams a guitarist, a fucking good guitarist, so I auditions and naturally, I gets de part."

"Wowee, that ams pretty cool," Toki said. He dared a look at Skwisgaar; he was looking straight ahead, arm around Toki like it was nothing, and internally Toki felt like he was dying, his heart thrashing in his chest.

Skwisgaar made a noise in his throat. "If you says so. And yous, little Toki? What you does?"

"I skate," Toki said routinely; skateboarding was his only true hobby, and he did even that on borrowed time. "I smoke. I hang with the guys a lot; they take me places, like to shows. I kind of like learning languages, too."

"You ams boring," Skwisgaar said. He let go of Toki momentarily to retrieve another cigarette, placing it unlit between his lips, and then replaced his arm, automatic, like it was nothing, and Toki continued to die. "But you ams pretty, so it ams okay."

"I'm not boring, it's my parents," Toki said. He didn't take offense—he knew he lead a boring, uninteresting life, but he had an excuse. "Do you know the old stuffy Norwegian Protestant type? They're that type. We moved here for church-related reasons."

"Oh, yes, I knows de type," Skwisgaar said, nodding in agreement. "Makes sense, I supposes. Parents ams dildos. My mom ams a whore." Skwisgaar let go of Toki to retrieve his lighter and lit his cigarette with a flourish, taking a long drag. He breathed out a smoke ring, which sort of impressed Toki, and replaced his arm. They'd been strolling down an avenue occupied mostly by law and insurance offices, and Toki made a game out of counting the ones that ended in –stein. He was up to seven, and pointed out another to Skwisgaar whenever he saw one.

"For money?" Toki asked, looking up to Skwisgaar and trying to read his face, which remained without expression.

"For moneys," Skwisgaar said, nodding again, slow this time. He had a general air of wisdom to him, perhaps because he was older, that intrigued Toki. He enjoyed listening to him talk and wanted to all night. "But, she ams in Sweden, and I ams here, so who cares? Not I's."

"Me neither," Toki said. "My mom doesn't do anything but take care of the house. I like her more than my dad, though." Mentioning his dad made Toki cringe, old scars throbbing white-hot under his clothes, and if Skwisgaar noticed he didn't say anything.

"I ams not knowingks my dad," Skwisgaar said. He took another drag on the cigarette, face expressionless. "But I ams not caringks about dat, neither. Apathy ams a good way to lives life, Toki."

"I agrees." Toki nodded his head emphatically. He stopped trying to read Skwisgaar's face and looked ahead. They were the only ones walking down this particular avenues, though there were some cars parked in the street. "You don't get hurt, you don't hurt people. You exist. But it still doesn't mean anything."

"I ams a nihilist," Skwisgaar said. "You probably ams, too. I believes in nothing but destrucktion." Another solemn drag on the cigarette, another smoke ring, his mouth forming a most delectable o shape.

"That's some heavy shit," Toki said. "Deep."

"You should hears me when I ams high." Skwisgaar dropped the cigarette and rubbed it out, interrupting their walking briefly. When they resumed Skwisgaar pulled Toki to him closer and forcefully, which Toki liked. He ignored the giddiness bubbling up his chest and continued the conversation.

"I will, won't I?"

"Yes, you will, but dat ams de third part. There ams three part to dis little excursion—if it makes yous happy, you may calls it a date—and we ams almost near de first one. Just a little more walkingks."

Toki bubbled with keenness, adding a bounce to his step. He fought the urge to babble incessantly about his excitement, as he so often did, and try to retain at least some of his cool. Skwisgaar seemed to notice this, though. "I ams not a pedophile," he said, squeezing Toki's shoulder, "but you ams actingks like a kid, and dat sort of makes me want to fucks you, ja." Toki's eyes widened and pupils dilated automatically, the bounce in his step disappearing as he froze. Skwisgaar laughed. Toki reveled in that minute for the next five, replaying it in his mind—he himself could not imagine sex as a practical reality, but the ease of which Skwisgaar spoke of it, and the fact that Skwisgaar spoke of it in relation to Toki, whom normally thought of himself as such a not sexual being, blew Toki's mind. He wanted to be fucked by Skwisgaar on the sidewalk then and there, lose his virginity amongst the homeless beggars, teenagers that thought they were too cool, and new age liberals whom crowded the sidewalks of downtown, and he could not shake the simple sentence from his brain. Skwisgaar selected yet another cigarette and smoked while Toki walked silent, the corners of his lips curled up, and Toki knew that Skwisgaar knew exactly what he'd done and was sort of getting off on it.

"Heres we ams," Skwisgaar said eventually, swinging Toki around to the blacked-out door of a small store nestled in with some others down an unremarkable avenue. "Part number one." Toki read the sign on the door—Lilies, in small, bubbly white lettering, and underneath, Your One Stop Adult Shop. "They ams not needingks an ID," Skwisgaar explained, and he opened the door for Toki.

The store was small, dimly lit with miniscule chandeliers hanging from the painted black ceiling providing the only light source, and divided in half by a thick black curtain. Everything was black—the floor, glassy and reflective; the walls, smooth and intimidating; Toki felt like he'd entered a cave. The front half of the store seemed normal, DVDs, VHS tapes, books and magazines arranged neatly on shelves or thrown haphazardly into sale bins with some assorted jewelry and clothes thrown about. There was a counter with a cash register, bins of jelly bracelet and a bored, heavily pierced girl sitting behind it, bare feet propped up on a red satin cushion and reading a celebrity gossip magazine. Skwisgaar gave Toki a few seconds to take the front half in and then marched him straight towards the back, swiping aside the heavy black curtain. The back half of the store felt like walking into somebody's deranged sex dungeon—there was a rack of increasingly sultry lingerie to the far left, and then there were shelves and racks and displays of various sexual oddities, from modest vibrators to the sex swing hanging in a corner.

"On our first date…you take me to a sex shop," Toki said, turning to look at Skwisgaar. He had not yet decided his feelings on the matter and so kept his face impassive, body stiff under Skwisgaar's arm.

"You ams so innocent, it seemed appropriate." Skwisgaar met Toki's eye and raised a single eyebrow. "It ams an educational exkperience."

"You must've really wanted to fuck me," Toki said. He was focused on Skwisgaar; they had turned into each other, their chests making an angle, and Toki was actively avoiding looking at the store's stock. He was not going to lie to himself—he was intrigued, quite intrigued actually, and wanted to inspect everything thoroughly. He couldn't decide if he hated Skwisgaar for this or loved him for it, though he had come to the conclusion that it was such a totally Skwisgaar thing to do.

"Ams I goingks to?" Skwisgaar raised both eyebrows and squeezed Toki's shoulder, leaning in close. Toki could see the finer features of his face—the translucent eyelashes, the pores of his skin. Toki weaseled out from under Skwisgaar's arm and pushed him back, a little rough but not too much, and Skwisgaar stumbled. He caught himself before his back could acquaint itself with a rack of whips, leashes, and collars, some studded outwards, some studded inwards.

"Fucks you! I ams not a whore! I does not fuck on the first date!" Toki whispered-shouted. He couldn't make it through the whole sentence without laughing. Skwisgaar laughed along with him and shoved Toki with a single hand; behind Toki there was a blank wall with a large white flower stencil and Toki's back hit it, rattling the shelves (containing strangely shaped objects that Toki did not know were exactly) on the adjacent wall. Skwisgaar advanced on him and placed a hand on either side of Toki's head, leaning in close. He was tall enough to shield Toki with his body, and Toki placed his hands on Skwisgaar's chest, almost expecting to be kissed. When a few seconds passed and their lips had not yet met, Toki pushed Skwisgaar off of him.

"Dildo," Skwisgaar said. Toki had stood up and Skwisgaar came forward to stand in front of him, though not too close. He messed with Toki's hair, twisting the entirety of it around his hand.

"Yes, there's a lot of those here," Toki said. "Look, there's some over there." He pointed at them, purposely being a smartass.

"Let's goes and looks at them," Skwisgaar said, and he linked his arm in Toki's. Go and look at them they did. The dildos and vibrators and other things meant for sticking inside of you in your lonesome were spread across two racks and lined up neatly by size; Toki started at the miniscule ones made to look like other things for concealment (his favorite was one disguised as lipstick that really ended up looking like a dog's dick) and made his way up to the comically large that made his ass hurt to look at. He enjoyed the colors, at least—some were fleshy, some black, and others were neon.

"The bright colored ones remind me of popsicles," he mused, scratching his chin. He was bent over beside Skwisgaar, also bent, to look at the ones on the middle shelf, which were all a similar size and organized in surprisingly sufficient rainbow.

"If you ams wantingks me to makes a suckingks joke, I ams not goingks to," Skwisgaar said. "I ams more high class than dat."

"Damns it," Toki said. He nudged Skwisgaar's shoulder, playful, hoping that that could become a thing between them. He was delighted when Skwisgaar nudged back, and they took turns shoving each other more aggressively, accumulating in Skwisgaar pushing Toki against the rack of didoes. A few fell to the floor; Toki cursed and Skwisgaar bent over to replace them, sniggering. After that they made their way to the more extreme toys, the ones that Toki weren't sure of their use or purpose, intimidating and big.

"Their specialties ams BDSM," Skwisgaar explained. He picked up a body harness by a single finger. "The other store downtown, their specialties ams costumes. My thoughts am that dis would be more fun."

Toki snatched the harness from Skwisgaar and held it in both hands, twisting it around to examine it. It was the display one; the actual ones for sale were stacked in plastic bags ready for purchase. "Kinky," Toki offered, and he handed the harness back to Skwisgaar.

"Indeed." Skwisgaar placed the harness back down. He picked up a ball gag and tossed it at Toki; they played catch with it back-and-forth for a few minutes, Toki throwing it underhanded to get the most height, Skwisgaar aiming for Toki's mouth. Toki opened his mouth and caught it between his teeth to humor Skwisgaar, and then spat it out and handed it to him to put away. They made their way through the back of the store, fucking around with the various peculiarities, Skwisgaar having to explain to Toki what a few things were. Toki found it all amusing and some of the things mildly arousing, though he didn't mention that part. They grew bored of the back, which they realized had a small selection after you pick through everything individually and the novelty wears off, and headed back to the front.

Toki flipped through the porn magazines and found vintage Playboys, way overpriced, that he sort of wanted to buy, more for the fact that they were vintage Playboys than for the naked women hiding between the pages. Skwisgaar saw him lingering and asked, "You sees somethingks you wants?"

"Fuck no, my parents would actually kill me," Toki said as he flipped through the pages of one from the seventies absentmindedly. "No joke. I would be dead. These ams pretty cool, though."

Skwisgaar took it from Toki and held it sideways, flipping through each individual page quickly. "Eh," he said. He handed it back to Toki and walked off to study the different flavored lubes and condoms. Toki placed the Playboy back and went to join him. "Your favorite flavor?" Skwisgaar asked him, hands behind his back and head turned towards Toki.

Toki thought for a second. "I like candy," he said. "So, fruity flavors. Cherry, like this." He indicated a box. Also present were themed condoms (Toki enjoyed the little tuxedo ones) and with specialties, like extra ribbed or for the extra-large. Skwisgaar plucked the box of cherry flavored ones from its neighbors and walked over to the cash register. The girl did not bother to take her feet down while she made the transaction, taking Skwisgaar's money and asking him if he wanted a bag (no—he slid them into his pocket) before marking the exchange in a notebook and returning her attention to her magazine.

They exited the store to find that the sun had set though it was not quite legitimately dark yet, a kind of bluish tone settling everything. Instead of putting his arm around him Skwisgaar took Toki's hand, locking their fingers, and Toki's heart missed a few beats. They resumed walking and talking and Toki's knuckles occasionally brushed against Skwisgaar's thigh, which consistently electrified him.

"So, de second part ams not too far," Skwisgaar said. He squeezed Toki's hand to get his attention. Toki had neglected to continue on the conversation, caught up in the moments and letting them go by without further discussion, and he felt badly about that.

"What is it?" Toki asked. He was doing the absent-minded thumb-circling thing again, over and over, getting used to holding hands. They did not attract many stares at all, and Toki felt tranquil, like he was amongst the proper people to be amongst and having a great time, which he was.

"Sayingks dat would ruins de surprise," Skwisgaar said, and he clucked his tongue at Toki, shaking his head. Toki grinned, looking down at the sidewalk and their respective shoes before making eye contact again.

"I'm impatient," Toki whined, and he attempted to do a puppy-dog face at Skwisgaar, but it just made him laugh and lean over to twist his hair with his other hand again.

"You ams such a child," Skwisgaar said as he smoothed Toki's hair back in place. "It ams endearing, I guesses."

Toki shrugged and swatted Skwisgaar's hand away, combing his fingers through his hair. "I'm only two years younger," he reminded Skwisgaar. He held two fingers up from the hand that was not holding Skwisgaar's to emphasize his point.

"What year ams you in in school?" They turned a corner onto a somewhat busy street, cars driving past and a significant more amount of people walking. Toki observed everybody, the way that they were dressed and whom they were with and what they held, and continued to remind himself how much he loved the atmosphere.

"10th grade," Toki said. "I'm a sophomore. I have two years of school after this one left, and then college, if I go to it."

"School ams dildoes," Skwisgaar said. He stopped Toki in front of a restaurant—Toki guessed Italian by the smell, the olive decals and the name, Sergio's. Skwisgaar opened the door for Toki with one arm and did not let go of his hand, letting Toki pass through first and following behind him. Toki felt sort of like a girl, but in a good way, in a being taken care of and being protected way, that he liked. The restaurant was larger than he thought it would be and they were seated at a table by a window, round and high-topped with regal chairs. Sergio's was mood lit with dark-paneled walls and maroon accents, making Toki feel warmer inside than he already had, and their waiter (named Giovanni) was very official in his black pants and white shirt. He left Skwisgaar and Toki alone to decide on drinks and promised to be back in five minutes.

"There ams dis Scandinavian place down here, also," Skwisgaar said as he perused the menu, "but I thinks dat would be an insults to ours heritage. Georgey boy says dis place ams very good. He ams an eighth Italian and ams very particular about his Italian food."

"I like Italian," Toki said. "Who doesn't?" His eyes went up and down the menu. He did not know what most of the items were, strange names with double consonants in loopy font, but the prices were high and the pictures of the food on the menu gorgeous, so Toki was excited to eat here. He eventually found something he recognized and knew he liked.

"Uncultured peoples, I presumes," Skwisgaar said. He set his menu down gently. Skwisgaar had initially sat down with excellent, straight posture, and then began to wilt, continuously leaning more in. "I ams gettingks de veal. Ams you done decidingks?"

"Fettuccini alfredo," Toki said. He set his menu down as well. "Water to drink. This is very nice, Skwisgaar." He leaned in as well.

"Ams you surprised?" Skwisgaar reclined in his chair and put his arms over one another in front of him, lightly dragging his finger around on the tabletop. Toki mirrored him, drawing his own fingers around in wider circles until they eventually found Skwisgaar, and locked their index fingers. Under the table he nudged Skwisgaar with his foot and made eye contact.

"I had low expectations," Toki said. Skwisgaar's lips and interlocked index finger twitched just the slightest, and he nudged Toki back. "This is my first date, after all." Toki curled his finger and crumpled his nose, again, deliberately being a smartass.

"Really? I thinks dat de girls ams all over a guy likes you," Skwisgaar said. He scanned Toki up and down; Toki felt modest and vulnerable, though not violated. He was wearing a plain white shirt with a short-sleeve, checkered button up over that, and cargo shorts, not a very impressive outfit at all, small sections of his hair falling over his shoulders naturally.

"They don't care about me," Toki said, shrugging. "Well—there was this one girl, but she was weird. It's okay, though, because I don't care about them."

"Yous ams gay, ja?" Skwisgaar asked. He nudged Toki under the table, the toe of his boot hitting Toki's calf. Toki hopped in his seat, just a little bit. "Just an assumpktions."

Toki nodded. "Recently gay, ja," he said.

Skwisgaar laughed. "I ams not caringks," he said. "If it ams hot and it has a hole I will fucks it. It ams rare, though, that I takes it on a date. Yous should feel specials."

"I feels special," Toki said. He met Skwisgaar's eyes and smiled.

"I ams not, however, goingks to gets sentimentals about it," Skwisgaar said. "Tonight ams an excepktions because I ams tryingks to makes a good impression on it. It ams not often I acts like dis." He pulled Toki's hand in farther and properly held it on top of the table, finding Toki's other under the table and holding it on top of Toki's knee.

"Oh, I believes you," Toki said. "I normally talk more."

Skwisgaar chuckled. "I ams sure dat you does. Does I makes you nervous?"

"A little," Toki admitted, casting his eyes downward.

"Dat's cute," Skwisgaar said. The statement had the condescending air to it that made Toki snap his head up and curl his nails into Skwisgaar's hands, tilting his head and smiling. Skwisgaar kicked him under the table. In return, Toki stuck his tongue out at him and let go of Skwisgaar's hands, picking up the menu again.

"Are we getting desert?" Toki asked, flipping to the back. Just the descriptions of the sweets alone made his mouth water and threatened to send him into a diabetic coma.

"No," Skwisgaar said. "I ams not rich, and we ams not havingks the time."

"Okay," Toki said, and he set the menu down again. Skwisgaar sparked his curiosity with the lack of time comment, but Toki did not have the opportunity to ask about it as Giovanni returned to take their orders. Skwisgaar ordered for Toki, which Toki found sort of annoying and appealing at the same time. He felt that way about most of Skwisgaar's actions, actually, though the appealing generally outweighed the annoying. When the waiter left Skwisgaar took Toki's hand again and Toki spelt his name out on Skwisgaar's hand with his thumb, last name and all.

"Dat ams a girly thing to do," Skwisgaar said. "The thumb thing." Toki stopped; Skwisgaar sent him a look. "Did I says to stop?"

"You said it was girly," Toki said, but he started doing it again, returning to circles as opposed to letters. "I did it—fuck, what's the word—naturlig."

Skwisgaar shrugged. "You ams a natural."

Toki did not quite know what that was referring to, but he let the statement lay at rest, and took the small break in conversation as a chance to observe his surroundings, which he had not yet gotten the chance to do. Being early evening the restaurant was filled, every table occupied, mostly by heterosexual couples. Nobody paid attention to Skwisgaar and Toki; they blended in, another two average faces in the clientele, although he did see women snatch glances at them periodically, presumably at Skwisgaar. Toki felt that familiar pride swell in him—he wanted them to look, to look at him and what he had, and he curled his fingers tighter around Skwisgaar, who tightened his grip back.

They chatted idly while they waited for their food, mostly about what restaurants and food they respectively liked, which turned into a debate over whether Norwegian or Swedish food was better. Skwisgaar was cut off in the middle of a long tirade about the values of Swedish cuisine by the arrival of their food, of which there was a lot, and the abundant smell scrumptious. Skwisgaar cut his veal into tiny bite sized pieces before placing each one individually in his mouth and chewing the appropriate amount of times; Toki shoveled his fettuccini into his mouth and lopped up remaining sauce with the complimentary breadsticks before thrusting them into his mouth as well.

"This food is amazing," Toki said at one point, taking a break from slamming food down his throat to drink some water. He had two lemon wedges perched on the rim of his glass, having asked for Skwisgaar's, being a fan of lemon. He picked one up and sucked from it.

"I hopes so, for dis price," Skwisgaar said. He had made his way through half his veal and had finished his accompanying roasted green beans and garlic mashed red potatoes, whereas Toki had maybe two forkfuls of pasta and no breadsticks left. "My food ams very good as well," he said, and he speared another piece of veal as if to make his point.

They finished their food and Skwisgaar paid, leaving a generous tip. Toki was full and sleep, holding Skwisgaar's hand languidly, if such a thing was possible. It had dropped in temperature outside, Florida behaving in its trademark bipolar way, but it wasn't too chilly. It was fully dark and the throng of people had dissolved to just a little bustle. Skwisgaar lead Toki deeper into downtown, closer to the waterfront that they were destined to hit eventually. Carbohydrates in Toki's stomach made him resistant to conversation and he dared to put his head on Skwisgaar's shoulder; the lack of reaction from Skwisgaar allowed him to keep him there.

"Ams you tired?" Skwisgaar asked. "Likes a baby?"

"Heavy food," Toki mumbled. His eyes were closed, completely reliant on Skwisgaar to guide him. He stayed like this only for a few minutes before taking his head off of his shoulder as his food began to digest and he began to feel more awake, the walking helping. "What time is it? I don't have a phone. Or a watch."

Skwisgaar took his out from one of his pockets and read the time. "It ams about nine o'clock," he said as he returned it to his pants. "We ams right on time."

"For what?"

"You ams goingks to see."

They were not in the nicest part of downtown, leering men crowding on street corners and dubiously dressed women flocking towards them, but Toki did not feel unsafe. He usually never did downtown as he went with Nathan, Pickles, Murderface and Dick, and Nathan's bulk alone scared people off, in addition to Murderface looking ready to go on a killing spree any second and actually carrying a knife on him at all times. Pickles knew a lot of people too, enough that people knew not to fuck with him because you'd be fucking with a whole mess of people you didn't want to get involved with; same with Dick, though people commonly hated Dick. Skwisgaar did not have the same menacing factors as Toki's usual gang, but there was something in his height and the way he carried himself that made him intimidating, even if he was on the slender side. There was something comforting in holding hands and knocking knuckles against each other's hips anyway, the physical connection and affection enough to make Toki feel protected.

They surpassed the sketchier part and hit the heart of downtown, more people there in anticipation of the nightlife, trendy expensive boutiques and bars on every avenue. This part of downtown was lit festively for Halloween, kick-off parties and groups of people in half-costumes every other block, and Toki's post-dinner sleepiness dissipated as the aura excited him. Skwisgaar led him through complicated mazes of sidewalks and people until they eventually hit another sketchy part, but a place Toki was familiar with. They were near Dick's neighborhood in the part that was near the water, the lights not as bright and the noise fading, but they were still close to the hub. Skwisgaar took Toki off the main path through downtown and to an alleyway that opened up onto a small beach, a break in the seawall, totally deserted.

"Businesses, dey dies down here," Skwisgaar explained. He kicked aside an empty beer bottle at the mouth of the beach and carefully led Toki down the steep slope to the flat part of the sand. It was not very big, maybe ten feet between beginning and the sea and ten feet wide, but there was enough room for Skwisgaar and Toki to sit comfortably side-by-side and so they did, arms interlocking behind their backs as they propped themselves up on the heels of their hands. "So nobody comes down here. Perfects for smokings and watching de fireworks." Skwisgaar took the carton of cigarettes back out and lit one of the joints, handing it to Toki.

Toki inhaled; he had forgotten about the fireworks, a weekly staple of his city's downtown, something people came to see. They were normally pretty lame and short, but as tonight was Halloween's Eve, they were bound to actually be pretty cool and extensive. If they stood at an angle on the beach, they'd be able to see them and definitely hear them. "They starts at eleven and ends at twelve," Skwisgaar said as Toki passed him the joint; he handled it like a pro and inhaled sharply. "Plenty of time to gets you back, ja?"

"Ja," Toki said. He took the joint and inhaled again. "Fuck." Skwisgaar laughed.

"Is dis de only drug you do?" Skwisgaar asked as Toki passed it to him again.

"Yeah," Toki said, nodding his head and inhaling again before tipping his head back to exhale long and hard, feeling his chest heave as he watched smoke disappear into the stars. "I used to drink, but I'm not a fun drunk, so the guys don't let me. Drinking is more of Nathan's thing. And Murderface's, if he's not having a straightedge week. Dick—he's our dealer—he does coke. A lot of coke. Coke off of strippers' tits coke. Pickles does everything, he likes acid and weed a lot, though, he says they're his favorites. He goes on kicks, though, like he'll get really into, like, bath salts for a while." He took another drag.

Skwisgaar nodded and accepted the joint when Toki passed it back. "You ams not a fun drunk?"

"They say I'm sloppy and violent," Toki explained. He was still looking at the stars; he took his arms from behind him and laid flat on his back. Skwisgaar joined him, Toki watching him fall to his back in his peripheral vision, and entwined his fingers with Toki. "I don't know, because I don't remember things when I drink."

"Ah," Skwisgaar said. He handed the joint back to Toki. "I understands. So you only does de maryjuhwanna."

"Yep," Toki said. "The guys, they make fun of me for it. They say it's not brutal to only smoke weed." He examined the joint, fat between his fingers, and took another long drag. He held it in for too long and coughed.

"Well, it ams really not," Skwisgaar said. He bought Toki's hand up to his chest, still holding it, and let it rest on top of his heart; Toki could feel his pulse. "But I ams in a grunge band, what does I knows about beingks brutal."

"Grunge isn't bad," Toki said. He found the joint, which had somehow ended up burning a hole in his shirt on his stomach, and took another drag. He did not cough this time. "Fuckface Academy is bad."

"I'll smoke to dat," Skwisgaar said, and he did. He blew a smoke ring afterwards; Toki watched it fade away.

"How do you that?" He asked Skwisgaar, turning his head to face Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar did the same, their faces inches apart. Toki took it upon himself to memorize Skwisgaar's eyes—the color, the starburst pattern around the pupils, the shape, everything—and began, staring intently. He was distracted when Skwisgaar started to speak, and decided to memorize the lips instead, for they looked inviting.

"I ams not able to explains," Skwisgaar said. "My English amns't good enough and it ams too hard to try to in Swedish. Sorry, littles Toki."

Toki shrugged, or shrugged the best he could, as he was laying down. "It's cool, is all," he said. Skwisgaar still keeping his hand on Skwisgaar's heart, Toki felt Skwisgaar's pulse, and as he progressively got higher and they continued to talk he felt his entire body throb with every beat of Skwisgaar's heart. Perhaps the whole thing was cliché—getting stoned on a beach under the stars and engaging in the deep conversation you can only have when you're stoned—but Toki loved it, loved every second, and as he became one with Skwisgaar's heartbeat he came closer and closer to a more profound understanding of something he was not absolutely sure of. He felt content in every nook, cranny and corner of his body, a light blanket of bliss settling over his being. It was the type of serenity you can only experience with another person, and he dared not voice this to Skwisgaar, not yet, afraid of scrutiny of his serendipity. He felt connected enough in the moment to know that it was shared, not needing words as confirmation.

Skwisgaar was right; not another person even came close to infringing upon their little beach, the whole area devoid of other humans, though the beer bottles and cigarette butts proved that other people knew of the place. They smoked until they found it unnecessary, and Toki limited himself, for he found that he did not need that large of a high to accompany such an already soothing evening. Skwisgaar had a high tolerance, though the stuff was pretty high quality, better than Dick's shit by far. Toki thought of asking Skwisgaar for his dealer and decided that would be a personal betrayal against his friends—they smoked shit weed because it was Dick's shit weed, not because they liked it. In his state, Toki found this to be such a pure, beautiful expression of friendship, the sacrifice of quality to preserve the dignity of a comrade. He expressed this to Skwisgaar, who agreed that it was simply the right and noble thing to do, and thanked Toki for the compliment about the quality of his weed.

Eleven o'clock rolled around and the rumble of fireworks startled them, sending them bolting up and knocking them out of the conversation they were having, which was something about Einstein being in therapy. They scrambled to stand and to look towards the display, grabbing each other's hands immediately and simultaneously, the simple gesture sending fireworks through Toki himself for the second time that day. They watched in awe for a handful of minutes, Toki whispering various phrases that mostly consisted of wowee and Skwisgaar grunting in agreement, until Skwisgaar whipped Toki around to face him. He became gentle then, tender even, cupping Toki's face on both sides before leaning down to press his lips, gingerly, against Toki's. Toki closed his eyes and felt the sensation of falling, crashing through the layers of Earth until he hit the core and melted. Skwisgaar pulled away and Toki's eyelids fluttered opened; they made brief eye contact, and then Toki sprang forward, wrapping his arms around Skwisgaar's neck and kissing him at full force. Skwisgaar began to move his lips against Toki's, the feeling of which (vaguely jellyfish in nature) caught him by surprise, but he mirrored the motions quickly and readily.

They kissed for the entire hour of the fireworks—Toki kept his arms where they were and eventually knotted his fingers up in Skwisgaar's hair, feeling the back of his head, and snaked his other hand under Skwisgaar's shirt, stroking his collarbone. Skwisgaar moved up and down Toki's back and at his waist, though he didn't try to go under Toki's shirt (which he was grateful for—he would've had to have stopped and explain the scars, which he didn't want to do) or to his ass (which he wasn't grateful for—or maybe he was—he didn't actually know) and played with the ends of Toki's hair. Toki eventually mastered the art of the jellyfish kiss and took over as the dominate partner. At the half-hour mark they sunk into the sand, Toki sitting in Skwisgaar's lap, and Skwisgaar began to French kiss him, which was not something Toki was able to master in half an hour. He mostly tried to repeat what was done to him, but Skwisgaar did some masterful things with his tongue that Toki had no idea how to replicate, and eventually he succumbed. He found he liked to lick at Skwisgaar, licking his bottom lip, his top lip, and even around them, playful and curious. Skwisgaar encouraged this by parting his lips and leaving them motionless. He laughed into Toki's mouth a few times as Toki did his experimental licking, which only provoked Toki, and as a response he sucked Skwisgaar's bottom lip between his teeth. Skwisgaar pulled back from that and moved to mouthing at Toki's neck, tucking his hair behind his ear, moving around to the back of Toki's neck and pushing all of his hair over his shoulder. Toki appreciated this, for if he was to get a hickey, it'd be better to get one in a place where his parents would not see. Toki was rendered incapable of motion throughout the process; it was all he could do to stroke at Skwisgaar's skin under the neckline of his shirt and lick at the crevice between neck and shoulder occasionally, feeling dazed. Eventually Skwisgaar pulled back to kiss Toki again, gentler and slow this time, pulling Toki out of his dazed state and reminding him where he was and what he was doing. Toki sped and roughened it up until they were at a sufficient pace once more and when Skwisgaar went to start Frenching again, Toki nibbled at his lips, which escalated into a war that Toki was eager to fight. By the time the fireworks ended and they broke apart Toki's lips were swollen and numb, his hair a tangled mess, and he was hard as fuck, aching.

He batted his eyelids sleepily until he was able to keep them open and picked a lock of Skwisgaar's hair up between his fingers. "Hello," he said, smiling.

"Hellos," Skwisgaar said. His voice was breathy, as opposed to Toki's sleepy one.

"That was really cool," Toki said. He was still turning Skwisgaar's hair over in his fingers, still in Skwisgaar's lap; Skwisgaar had propped himself up on his elbows after Toki pulled away.

"Ja," Skwisgaar said. "See? I told yous. Yous ams a natural."

"Oh?" Toki said. He got off of Skwisgaar's lap, erection subsiding enough that he could stand. Skwisgaar followed him and held his hand before leaning down to give him the softest kiss of the night; it would be too exhausting to do anything else at that point, and even an insult to the past hour to try and reproduce it when neither of them were ready.

"Ja," Skwisgaar said again. He took Toki's other hands in his, face serious now, and he once again looked behind Toki instead of at him. "Toki. It woulds be a shame if I did not asks you dis after dat."

"What?" Toki asked. He cocked his head, still fuzzy from the kissing and full of half-wishes to lunge at Skwisgaar again.

"You ams going to make me says it?" Skwisgaar asked. Then, he groaned and turned his head, making eye contact with Toki. "I would likes it if you belongs to me and I belongs to you and nobody else. A relationships. I thinks in America they says, wills you be mine boyfriend?"

"Oh! Yes," Toki said. He leaned up to kiss Skwisgaar again, licking a little at his lips, if only to express his joy. "I am happy."

Skwisgaar chuckled a bit and then checked the time on his phone. "Shits. We needs to go."

Toki pouted and found himself unable to form words otherwise. They departed from the beach with its still water reflecting moonlight and white sand littered with debris, Toki sad to see it go, though he had the feeling he'd be back before long. He followed Skwisgaar through the winding path of downtown—there were even more people than before out now, but their features and the light and the noise blurred to Toki—and back to the festival grounds, which was deserted but still open for some unknown reason. Toki kissed Skwisgaar at the gate, having spent the last five minutes in silence just staring at his lips, and tried to go for more but found himself without the energy to. He was surprised by how much just that hour took out of him, like some sort of vampirism life source sucking-out process had occurred. He was still pretty high, too. Skwisgaar held his hand until they got to the front of the stage, where Toki saw his friends standing in a circle. Murderface had lost his jacket and was wearing a different shirt than before, something three sizes too small and pink; Nathan and Pickles were huddled in conversation, and Dick was nowhere to be found. Nathan noticed Toki and Skwisgaar first, as Pickles and Murderface were turned away from them, and Nathan tapped Pickles on the shoulder and pointed.

"Hey, guys," Pickles said. He bounced over to them, still energetic somehow. He was wearing sunglasses that pushed up his dreads, at midnight, for unknown reasons. "How was your date?"

"Amazing!" Skwisgaar released Toki's hand; he fell into Pickles. "He bought cherry condoms, he eats like a lady, we got high and he gave me a hickey, I think, you should check." He gestured to the back of his own neck.

Pickles moved aside Toki's hair. "Yep, there's a hickey," he said. Toki swayed out of his arms and stood beside him. Pickles shot Skwisgaar a look; Skwisgaar shrugged.

"It ams all true," he said. He walked over to Toki and took both of his hands, steadying him. "Looks, next weekend, meets me at de mall, de food court, Saturday, noon. Gots it?" Toki nodded; Skwisgaar let go of one of his hands and used a single finger to tilt his chin, giving him a soft, chaste kiss. "You gots it, at least," he said, looking at Pickles. Pickles nodded.

"Well, we have to get going," Pickles said. Skwisgaar nodded and let go of Toki's other hand; this time, Toki did not fall, but remained steady on his feet. The absence of physical contact made him sad, however. "I hope you had a good time, too."

"I has a great time. I ams seeingks him again, ams I not?" Skwisgaar said. "We ams together now. Sees you guys later." He waved at Nathan and Murderface and then took off; Toki watched him go, his elegant figure gliding away, until he disappeared into the night like so much of their smoke and thoughts. Yeah, he was definitely still high.

"Well, you're sloppy," Pickles said, looking at Toki. "We're barely gonna make Nathan's curfew, I hope you know." He put an arm around Toki, which was weird and wrong in comparison to Skwisgaar's presence across Toki's shoulder for some of the night, and began to walk in the direction of the nearest parking lot. Nathan and Murderface fell in step along beside him. "And Halloween is tomorrow. We need to get you to bed."

"What's with the shirt?" Toki asked, gesturing to Murderface. He was sleepy, sure, but he could walk, and he pushed Pickles's arm off of him.

"We'll exchange stories of our nights later," Pickles said. "You can sleep on the car ride home and maybe you'll sober up enough."

"'Kay," Toki said. The walk to Nathan's truck was brief, and Toki fell asleep immediately once he was sitting inside—he thought he saw Pickles rolling his eyes in annoyance and leaning back from the front seat to buckle Toki's seatbelt for him before he fell asleep. He woke to a similar sight, Pickles slapping his face as he undid his seatbelt, and stumbled out of the truck, to Nathan's house, up Nathan's stairs, and into Nathan's room before he curled up under the windowsill and fell asleep.

He slept dreamless and deeply, feeling rejuvenated when he woke up. His high had worn off but he was hungry, and happy, and warm—there was a blanket thrown across him, probably by Pickles, who was asleep in Nathan's bed against the wall, distinguishable only by the mop of dreads peeking from a mass of black comforter. Murderface was snoring in the computer chair and Nathan was nowhere to be found, but Toki heard water running in the upstairs bathroom, and he figured that that must be where Nathan was. Toki was not tired enough to go back to sleep so he crawled out from under the windowsill and stretched, basking in the morning light. He walked over to the computer and shook the mouse, carefully avoiding Murderface, still in his three-sizes-too-small hot-pink V-neck, to check the time. 12:30 P.M., shit; unsurprisingly, Murderface had been on a weapons dealer's website. Toki wondered what time the other guys passed out at as he went back over to sitting below the window sill.

Nathan reentered the room with a towel wrapped around his waist a few minutes later, unsurprised to see Toki up. "What time did you guys pass out at?" Toki asked as Nathan went over to retrieve clothes from his closet.

"Murderface was still online when Pickles and I went to sleep around three," Nathan said. He selected a black shirt and jeans from the closet, reaching in a cheap plastic set of drawers for a pair of boxers. "I woke up first, whoa."

"Yeah," Toki said. "Whoa." He ran a hand through his hair, which was knotted and surely a mess to look at. Considering what he was going as for Halloween, he decided to leave it that way. "Are we just going to let them sleep?"

Nathan shrugged. "Not much else to do." He exited the room with his clothes in hand. Toki listened to Nathan pad around upstairs, getting dressed, combing his hair, brushing his teeth, and then go downstairs, presumably to eat. After neither Pickles nor Murderface gave any inclination of waking up soon Toki picked himself up and headed to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush he kept over at Nathan's house and rinsed his face off; his eyes were still a little red, but it worked with the day. He went downstairs and made himself a bowl of cereal, eating at the kitchen table alone and lost in thought. Mostly he allowed himself to remember the bliss of the previous night, particularly the hour he spent on their makeshift beach. He finished his cereal and felt productive enough to wash his own dishes for once. When he went back into Nathan's room he saw that Pickles had woken up and was propped against Nathan's headboard, texting somebody.

"Mornin' sunshine," Pickles said, looking from his phone towards Toki, his thumbs continuing to move. "When we gonna talk about last night, huh?"

Toki walked over to Nathan's bed and sat on it, swinging his legs up on it. "When you want to, I guess," he said, lounging on Nathan's mattress. It was not often that Toki got the luxury of being on Nathan's bed, and he reveled in it, for it was a fucking awesome bed.

Pickles put his phone down beside him. "Well, when you left, the guys and I decided to just wander around. We got gelato, too, Murderface made such a mess. Anyhow. That shit got boring fast so we went to Dick's and had an impromptu party. Murderface over there exchanged clothes with a stripper. Nathan got a lap dance. I got her sunglasses." Pickles gestured to the sunglasses on Nathan's bedside table. "After that, we went back to the festival grounds. Pretty average night. I showed you mine, now you show me yours." At this point Nathan reentered his room and went over to begin kicking Murderface awake. Murderface did not budge nor wake up, no matter how hard Nathan kicked his shins.

Toki put his hands on his belly and inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes and trying to remember. "You guys left, we hung out with his band for a couple minutes, he took me to Lilies, which was a sex shop—"

"Wait, hold up, what?" Pickles leaned in towards Toki, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. "He took you to a sex shop? I don't know if I like that. Do you like that, Nathan?" He looked over to Nathan.

Nathan stopped kicking Murderface momentarily. "No, I do not like that, Pickles." He returned to kicking Murderface and took the chair and swiveled it around; Murderface slept on.

Pickles, satisfied, leaned back again. "What type of a guy takes his first date to a fucking sex shop? Is this where he got the cherry condoms?"

"Yeah," Toki said. "We looked at dildos and played catch with ball gags." He patted his belly in a beat, avoiding Pickles's eyes.

Nathan chuckled and Pickles sent him a look; Nathan stopped chuckling. "Go on, Toki," Pickles said, returning his attention to Toki and his story and making a waving hand motion.

"Then we went to a fancy Italian restaurant, I think it was called Sergio's, he had veal and I had fettuccini alfredo Then we went to this little empty beach type thing and talked and smoked until the fireworks and we watched the fireworks and kissed and stuff." Toki faltered at the end and looked away from Pickles, face getting hot.

"Stuff," Pickles said, monotone. "Explain the stuff. I've seen your hickey, kid."

"God, Mom," Toki mumbled, certain that his face was red. He was looking intently at Nathan's sheets and the little ridges they made in their crumpled state. "We made out for, like, an hour. Oh, and he asked me out."

"You're such a girl," Nathan said. He'd stopped kicking Murderface, having given up, and was reclining against his computer desk, glaring at Murderface with his arms crossed.

"Well," Pickles said. His phone buzzed and he picked it up, resuming his texting. "You had a very interesting night. A sex shop. Oh, and Nathan, Charles said he's having a party tonight. I said we couldn't make it."

"It was cool," Toki said. He was still making eye contact with the sheets as opposed to Pickles. "I'd never been in one before."

Pickles sighed. "If you say so. Now, if you excuse me, I have to start prepping for Halloween." He climbed out of bed—Toki noticed at this point he was shirtless, though wearing jeans and socks—and walked by Murderface, poking him in the back of his neck with his fingernail. Murderface jerked awake, breathing heavy, and Nathan stared in wonder alternating between Murderface and Pickles, who sashayed out of the room and flicked his wrist, dismissing the awe of his actions.

Nathan, Murderface and Toki killed time before trick-or-treating, which would begin at six, by watching shitty scary movies in the basement. Murderface pretended not to be scared at the jump scares; Toki tracked the plots and reveled in the gore; Nathan enjoyed the gore alongside Toki and consumed the entire bowl of popcorn. Pickles killed the time by getting ready, which really did take him all day. Murderface never had to dress up for Halloween, being naturally scary in his normal attire, and Toki was going as a mental patient, so all he had to do was change into a pair of scrubs he'd splattered with red paint a couple weeks ago and smear some charcoal make-up under his eyes before they left for the evening. Nathan was going as a football player, meaning he had to change into his uniform, but Pickles took it one step above. He was going as a cheerleader, a proper girl cheerleader, with skirts and pom-poms and everything. So, at five-thirty, Nathan, Murderface, and Toki stood at the bottom of the stairs, tapping their feet, each in their appropriate dress, waiting for Pickles to emerge.

Pickles made a frighteningly good girl, with his naturally slender shape and slightly hourglass figure. He'd put his dreads in low pigtails, done his make-up but kept his weak attempt at facial hair, had pom-poms, a costume he'd ordered off of Amazon, tennis shoes and ruffled socks. He made a dramatic entrance, striking poses down the stairs, and congregated to Nathan to cling onto his arm and lift a leg up, dying of laughter. "This was a good idea," he said.

They stockpiled into Nathan's truck, Pickles placing his pom-poms on the console, and Nathan drove them to the richest neighborhood in town where the high school students generally hung out at Halloween. They trick-or-treated with cheap pillowcases and made a game out of who could scare the children the most—Murderface won just by existing, though kids looked at Pickles strangely and Pickles growled back, gnashing his teeth like a dog. They did not talk of the previous day, nor of Skwisgaar, nor of anything, really, as they went through the streets and knocked on doors. Some people turned them away, telling them they were too old, and they flicked them off and kicked their jack-o-lanterns in response. Nathan made out with some chick in a failed attempt at a vaguely offensive, appropriating Native American costume that was mostly just her barefoot and wearing scanty burlap; Pickles was mistaken for a girl, and subsequently hit on, three times, all by drunken guys similar in age to them. They ran into a couple people they knew—Rockzo and his crew being one of them, in their normal clothes and carrying candy in a baby carriage that Rockzo himself pushed, and Toki took extra caution to avoid being seen by Emmy—and made small-talk. At some point during the night he'd absentmindedly wiped his face with the back of his hand and smeared make-up everywhere, though it kind of just added to the mental patient effect, according to Pickles. Murderface disappeared at one point and returned with an armful of illegal foreign candy, mostly Kinder chocolate and gummies in weird shapes. Toki took a bag of road-kill gummies and deposited them in his pillowcase. They amassed a nice size of candy and cashed in early, needing time to go to Nathan's house and prepare themselves for going home and for school in the morning. Toki forced himself to shower at Nathan's house, and though he felt insecure and vulnerable through the ordeal he felt better afterwards, and Toki got dressed in Nathan's bathroom feeling pretty content with the world—he'd avoided a weekend with his parents, he'd spent some nice quality time with his friends, and, oh, he'd attained himself a boyfriend.