This chapter's a good one. There's something for everybody, I think. Yay for monthly updates! I would also like to thank my beta, Misty Day, for helping me with this chapter. I'm excited to hear what the readers think of it.

Predictably, the world did not end, and Toki awoke to a knock on his window at one o'clock in the morning on a Wednesday—Thursday, actually, since it was after midnight—night. The knocking was soft but Toki woke easily. He blinked away the sleep and fuzziness, rolled over onto his other side, and smiled when he saw Skwisgaar's face in the window, his fist poised to knock again. He acknowledged Toki with a nod as Toki sat up on the bed and stretched. It was cold in his room—his parents made sure he had no air conditioning or heating—and he wore a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. He'd gotten in the habit of covering himself up when Skwisgaar got in the habit of making nightly visits, which frustrated him, because it really should be the opposite.

He got up and opened the window, stepping back so Skwisgaar could climb in. He'd gotten more adept at it, not needing Toki to support him as he crammed his body through the window, but he reached out to hold onto Toki's shoulder anyway. Superfluous touches still made Toki's skin tingle with excitement. Once Skwisgaar was inside Toki's room Toki shut the window while Skwisgaar fixed his hair and clothes.

"Helloes," Toki said, doing the latches on the window.

"Helloes," Skwisgaar said. He turned Toki towards him and kissed him, both hands on Toki's shoulders. Toki smiled through it.

They parted and Skwisgaar sat on Toki's bed, leaning against the wall and looking smug and like he belonged there. Toki sat beside him and mirrored his position, though he layered his left leg over Skwisgaar's right. They held hands between their bodies and stared at Toki's door. The lights were off and it was dark but Skwisgaar seemed to glow, which had more to do with his paleness than anything else, but Toki appreciated the quality nonetheless.

"Ams you excited for de parties tonight?" Skwisgaar asked, picking his and Toki's conjoined hands up and running a thumb over Toki's skin before putting their hands down again. He spoke in a low voice, both in pitch and tone, his eyes cast down at their hands.

"Yeah," Toki whispered, keeping himself from yelling. They had to be quiet to avoid detection but that did not diminish Toki's joy in the least. "Ams you?"

"I doesn't care," Skwisgaar said. He picked their hands up again. "It has been almost an year since I comes to dis country." He put their hands down again. That was starting to get on Toki's nerves so he took their adjoined hands into his lap, flipping their arms so that he could see the underside of Skwisgaar's.

"Reallys?" He traced a vein in Skwisgaar's arm with his index finger. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, the navy of Skwisgaar's veins against the ivory of his skin visible.

Skwisgaar nodded. He was watching Toki's fingers move up and down the veins in his arms, like Toki was tracing over a subway map to confirm his chosen route. "I comes after my birthday in March, ja? It ams almost March."

"I didn't knows yous birthday in March," Toki said. He looked up and at Skwisgaar and cocked his head to the side.

"Well," Skwisgaar said, "it ams." He lifted his head and met Toki's eyes. Toki startled.

"Moidaface just had his birthday," Toki said. "I wasn't allowed to go to de parties." He frowned and went back to drawing his fingers up Skwisgaar's arms. He'd lost the vein and was just padding the skin, working his way up. Despite the frigid weather outside Skwisgaar was wearing a thin muscle shirt; his skin was warm, conditioned by the harsher Swedish weather, and smooth, the sinewy muscle of his upper arm appealing. Sometimes the nightly visits would devolve into making out and sometimes they wouldn't, but Toki was starting to think that this one would be the former, and he was pretty okay with that.

"Yous wasn't allowed?" Skwisgaar asked. He sounded distracted, which might have had something to do with the fact that Toki was leaning over his lap, pushing his hair behind his ear and placing his mouth on the skin just below, nibbling.

Toki felt it unnecessary to respond.

Skwisgaar pushed Toki off of him and into the bed, silencing Toki's surprised utterance with his mouth, swallowing Toki's sound. Toki responded by slinging one of his legs around Skwisgaar's back and arching his own, grinding their crotches together and trying to work up some friction. Skwisgaar matted his hands in Toki's hair and rolled off of him, towards the side, and their mouths stayed on each other's out of necessity more than desire. They couldn't move much or make too much sound in case Toki's parents could hear. It violated both of their personalities, Toki felt, this silenced and passionless fooling around, and sometimes his brain would begin to wander in the dark. It had been exciting at first, a new layer of danger to add a new layer of arousal, but now Toki felt paranoid, uncertain. He pushed a hand up Skwisgaar's shirt and ran it across his chest, his own invitation for Skwisgaar to do the same to him, a compromise he had developed in lieu of removing his shirt.

He pulled back and kept pulling when Skwisgaar wrapped a hand around his neck to drag him back. Toki placed his fingers on Skwisgaar's bottom lip then let them drag down his skin, towards his belt buckle, the proud flag of Sweden. Skwisgaar rolled onto his back, getting where Toki was going, and stuffed his knuckles in his mouth as Toki undid his belt and unzipped his jeans, rolling them down and unearthing his cock, stroking it a few times before bending to take it into his mouth. He had been terrible at blowjobs in the beginning, inexpert, but with practice comes progress. He looked Skwisgaar in his eyes as he took his cock down his throat, slow to the point of torture. He'd gotten better at taking it but couldn't get the whole length in his mouth, didn't think he ever would be able to, but it didn't matter. He ringed the base with his fingers and worked him, getting off on the way Skwisgaar closed his eyes and jammed his head back in the mattress as his hips came forward, how he bit into his knuckles and made strangled sounds in his throat. Beautiful, Toki thought, absolutely beautiful, and when Skwisgaar had come he swallowed. He'd learned to love the taste.

"Fucks," Skwisgaar said as he came to a sitting position and drew Toki into a kiss, knotting the front of his shirt in the hand with the gnawed-on knuckles. Toki drew back to take Skwisgaar's hands and suck on the knuckles, licking the imprints that Skwisgaar's teeth had left on them, tasting his saliva. Toki moved Skwisgaar's hand from his mouth to his dick, full and heavy in his pajama pants, and Skwisgaar moved closer, taking Toki in both of his hands and working it. Toki balled the sheets on his bed and raised them towards his mouth, stuffing it, and it was not long before he came with a flourish of his hips. He lowered the sheets from his mouth and panted, chest heaving, focusing his energy on not making noise.

They arranged themselves into a spooning position afterwards, Toki facing the open window, a soft breeze rolling in. He was sleepy and could've fallen asleep had he not been preoccupied with the constant worry that his parents would burst through the door and kill him. Skwisgaar's knees were pressed into the spaces behind Toki's, his nose buried somewhere in Toki's hair, and it felt good to lay like this in his cold, barren room with another person in bed with him. They didn't talk, just appreciated the other's presence, the warmth. Toki felt Skwisgaar still and relax until Toki was almost certain he was asleep. It hurt Toki's heart to move his arm off of Toki's side and roll over, poking Skwisgaar in the stomach and on the nose, waking him.

"You fells asleep," Toki whispered as Skwisgaar blinked his eyes open at him. Skwisgaar had a face made for observation while sleeping. Toki smiled.

"Sorries," Skwisgaar said. He yawned and rolled off the bed, then stretched in the darkness, his shirt riding up. Toki continued to smile as he himself got out of bed and walked Skwisgaar to the window.

"Goodbyes," Toki said.

Skwisgaar nodded and leaned in to kiss Toki, slow and sleepy, a kiss of the soul. He turned when he was about to climb out the window, a hand on the windowsill and the climb ready in his knees. "By de ways," Skwisgaar said, "happys annievarsities."

Toki sucked his top lip between his teeth, happiness bursting inside of him like a flower unfolding in fast motion, a blush spreading to his cheeks. "You's too," Toki said, and he reached forward to wrap his fingers in Skwisgaar's hair and tug. Skwisgaar gave a pained little smile and removed Toki's fingers from his hair, holding his fingers on Toki's wrist and his gaze for longer than necessary before turning back towards the window and exiting Toki's room. Toki shut the window and watched Skwisgaar disappear into the darkness, his smile rolling down into a frown. He was sad to see him go, though overjoyed at Skwisgaar's remembrance of their anniversary. They had reached a conclusion after a lengthy debate over the anniversary issue—celebrate it on the thirty-first during months with thirty-one days and the thirtieth with months that had only thirty, as well as the twenty-eighth (or twenty-ninth, depending) in February. A compromise that satisfied them both.

Toki slept in the next morning, not having to wake up early for school and tired from the previous night. He woke up excited, antsy for the party. It was New Year's Eve and the party was to be held at Charles's house, as it was every year. New Year's Eve parties at Charles's were smaller than the parties he usually threw, more intimate, more of his close friends (and he had a weird amount of close friends) and whoever they bought along. Last year Toki had went and it had been great. He'd spent the majority of it with Murderface, who had not yet met Dick (they were getting their drugs through Seth, a painful process) and had kissed some girl who'd been sort of stalking him all night when the ball dropped. She'd been a decent kisser but had literally wrapped her arms around Toki and refused to let go; Nathan had to pry her from him and pass her off to her friends. Toki had higher hopes for this year's party.

He went about his Thursday chores and his extra Christmas Break chores, ate lunch with his mother as his father was out of town for a week on church business, showered and changed then took up his usual haunt, the porch, waiting for the guys to pick him up. They were going downtown before the party to collect Skwisgaar and kill a couple of hours, walk around and cause ruckus, the usual. Toki laid down on the freshly swept porch steps, one of his legs straight and the other on the ground below, staring up at the sky. It was cloudless and moderate in temperature, neither cold nor hot, comfortable. He closed his eyes, black of the back of his eyelids reddened by the sunlight, and entered a state that was close to sleeping but not quite there. Maybe meditation; Toki rejected all religious bullshit on principle.

The sound of an oncoming vehicle cut into Toki's peace and Toki shot up to his feet. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at Nathan's truck; it looked different, and Toki realized that it had new rims. "Yous truck looks different," Toki said, accent rich from lack of exposure to American culture over the last few days and grammar tricky, as he got in the truck and buckled his seatbelt.

"Parents got me rims for Christmas," Nathan said. He took a hand off the wheel and put it around the back of Pickles's seat as he drove away from Toki's house. Pickles turned around to wave at Toki, lopsided grin on his lips and his eyes rimmed red, before handing him a blunt. Toki took it and smiled as thanks.

"God, you are scho lucky," Murderface said from the backseat. He had his arms crossed over a shirt Toki hadn't seen before, unflattering blue and green stripes. "My grandparentsch juscht bought me schtupid, ugly clothesch."

"They're pretty ugly, yeah," Pickles said. He cracked his knuckles and propped his heels up on Nathan's dashboard. "My parents didn't get me shit. Shocker. They went to Seth's apartment for Christmas, actually." He fished his inhaler out of his pocket and used it, his chest heaving. "Anyway. What 'bout you, Toki?"

"I spends de day in church," Toki said, crinkling his nose. The guys groaned in sympathy for him. "It was okays, though." The guys groaned again, louder this time. They didn't press Toki further about Christmas, for which Toki was glad, as his parents neglected to buy him anything and took the day as a break, leaving Toki to clean the house and make dinner. He couldn't cook and burnt their casserole; his father had lashed him on the back, knowing his son's lack of culinary capability well.

"Well, Christmas is over," Pickles said. He put the inhaler back in his pocket. "We got like a week of no-school, no-family-obligations, no-bullshit, and tomorrow's the first day of 2013. I am going to get so drunk tonight."

"2013," Nathan repeated as he spun the truck into a one-handed turn that made Toki sort of nervous, "is such a fucking brutal year. I wish I was graduating this year so that would be, like, on my diploma, or something."

"Like you'll graduate," Murderface said. He snorted into his hands. Pickles gave him a death glare over his shoulder; Murderface took his hands from his mouth and held them up his. "You were all thinking it!"

"I have faith in Nathan," Pickles said, voice cross. He paused for a second and then laughed. "Sorry, sorry, douchebag, but that almost rhymed. Faith. Nath. Aw, man, talk about irony."

"I actually do not know what irony means," Nathan muttered. Murderface and Toki looked at each other and burst out laughing while Pickles patted Nathan on the shoulder and told him that was okay before taking a half-empty bottle of booze from the glove box.

Pickles drank the remainder of the ride to Skwisgaar's apartment. Toki looked out the window as he usually did, thinking about how great it would be if he could have a pet cat and what he would name it, while taking long, pensive drags on the joint, blowing the smoke against the glass and letting it rebound into his eyes. Murderface and Nathan carried on a conversation about some chick in their history class's tits, debating whether or not they were that great, Nathan speaking from literal first-hand experience and Murderface exploding into envy by the end. Toki decided that, if he were to come into possession of a cat, he would name it Mr. (or Ms.) Fluffy.

Nathan parked on the curb outside of Skwisgaar's apartment complex and Toki called him, telling him to come down. Mark was yelling at somebody in the background about leaving their clothes on the bathroom floor; Skwisgaar told Toki he'd be there in a few seconds through his laughter. Toki counted the seconds until Skwisgaar appeared—one hundred and twelve—and as Toki slid into the middle to let Skwisgaar get in beside him, he stuck the joint between Skwisgaar's lips and said, "Liars, yous down in a hundred and twelve seconds." Skwisgaar shrugged and tipped the joint in his mouth.

"Did I say he could smoke my weed?" Pickles asked, now glaring over his shoulder at Skwisgaar and Toki. Toki froze. Pickles held their gaze for a few seconds before he started guffawing. "Just kiddin'." Toki exhaled while Skwisgaar inhaled.

"This ams de best qualities I has ever had," Skwisgaar said. He took the joint from his mouth and held it between his fingers, looking at it in disbelief. "It ams redefinitions mines idea of de drug."

"It's whats which Pickle's brother sells," Toki said. He dropped his head onto Skwisgaar's shoulder, ignoring Murderface's noise of disgust as he jammed himself against the door and as far away from Skwisgaar and Toki as he could manage. "Best in de city. Very expensive, but he gets it for free."

"That means he steals it," Nathan said.

Skwisgaar nodded and held the joint to Toki's mouth, giving him a drag before taking one for himself. He leaned his head back and blew the smoke out slowly. In the December daylight it looked beautiful, Toki thought, his eyes tracking it until it disappeared. He balled the hem of Skwisgaar's shirt into his fist as he moved his body as close to him as it would allow, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt light; he felt right.

Nathan drove them to the biggest park in their city, one that sprawled over three blocks downtown and had huge trees with thick trunks and roots that bled into the sidewalks, which themselves twisted around in a complicated map. They passed abstract art sculptures scattered throughout that Toki didn't get but Pickles did—particularly when he was stoned—and waxed poetic about as they walked through the curving pathways in the park, towards a cluster of trees. Skwisgaar walked close enough to Toki that their sides bumped, sharing personal little smiles with Toki as Pickles rambled on about the meaning of life in a sculpture that looked like nothing more than a large white oval: "Eggs, man, the chicken and the egg, we come from eggs, eggs, life. Eggs. Life." They fell to the ground in the center of the cluster of trees, ducking underneath branches and sucking their stomachs in to access it. Pickles sat against the trunk of a tree, Nathan stretching on his back in the grass and Toki laying on his stomach, Skwisgaar Indian-style beside him. They looked at Murderface, who was standing with one foot propped up against a tree and his hands behind his back.

"I am not getting grassch schtains on thesche jeansch. They're new," Murderface said. The jeans in question bagged around his calves but clung to his thighs in an unflattering light wash.

"You shoulds stain dem," Toki said. He rolled onto his stomach and reached for the hem of Skwisgaar's shirt, pulling him closer to him. "Dey uglies."

"Hey!" Murderface started his sputtering, spit flying from his mouth in every direction as he shook his head.

"Dude," Pickles said. He pulled a baggie of shrooms from his pocket and placed one on his tongue, talking to Murderface but not looking at Murderface. "Calm down. Want some?" He looked in Nathan's direction; Nathan shook his head.

"Gives to me," Skwisgaar said, extending an arm towards Pickles. Pickles threw him one; Skwisgaar caught it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Toki beamed at him from the ground, swelling with pride.

"Toki?" Pickles shook the bag in Toki's direction. Toki shook his head and let his hand travel up Skwisgaar's torso, tugging on Skwisgaar's shirt to pull his face down towards his. Skwisgaar's eyebrows shot up and Toki stretched his neck to kiss him, probing around his teeth for the taste of the mushroom.

"Grossch," Murderface said. Toki broke from Skwisgaar and stuck his tongue out at Murderface, damp and dripping with the saliva of two separate people. Murderface gagged.

They bullshitted around in the park for a few hours, congregating in the center of the circle of trees and playing music on their phones, getting high and drunk safe from the public eye. Skwisgaar laid down on his back beside Toki around the same time Pickles stretched out on his stomach beside Nathan. Murderface remained standing the entire time, to the point that he bitched about how much his new combat boots were hurting his feet. Toki laid his head on Skwisgaar's chest and Skwisgaar allowed it, playing with Toki's hair while Toki ripped up grass and sent into the air as if it were confetti. They tuned the other guys out, sharing more of those secret little smiles and making eyes at each other, the edges of the world blurred by a pleasant mix of illegal substances. They remembered where they were only when the sun began to sink, blades of orange light cutting between the trees and reminding them that it was New Year's Eve, that they had places to be. Toki and Skwisgaar were slow to rise, unsteady and holding onto each other's shoulders and forearms; Toki fell into Skwisgaar, his forehead hitting Skwisgaar's chin, and Skwisgaar bleated with amusement before steadying Toki with hands around his elbows.

"Gotta pissch," Murderface said. He turned around to face a tree and unzipped his jeans; Skwisgaar curled his lip, Toki his nose, pausing in their stumbling.

"Ugh," Nathan said. He threw the bottle of liquor that Pickles had gotten from the glove box earlier behind him in the direction of Murderface; it broke against Murderface's back.

"Hey!" Murderface whipped around, audibly pissing against the tree. "Douchebag!"

Nathan shrugged and walked past Skwisgaar and Toki, shoving between them. Pickles followed, face drawn into an expression of glee and a hand on Nathan's back, and Skwisgaar and Toki closed the gap between them. Murderface ran to catch up. They walked out of the park, much more populated than when they had come in, the temperature plummeting alongside the sun. Toki grabbed Skwisgaar's hand around the wrist and waited for Skwisgaar to entwine their fingers; he did, without so much a look at Toki, and Toki's pulse quickened. Toki had plans for the party, plans for the hours ahead that relied on Skwisgaar's cooperation and how good of a person he could prove himself to be.

Skwisgaar sat in the middle in Nathan's truck this time. Toki slung his legs over Skwisgaar's knees, his feet hitting the back of Pickles's seat at an angle, and when Murderface complained about Skwisgaar and Toki's gayness Toki kicked him in the knees. Murderface fixed his face into a scowl and left it there.

"Didn't yous mom tells you not to makes de faces because yous face gets stuck?" Skwisgaar asked Murderface, teasing, or at least Toki knew Skwisgaar was teasing, could hear it in his voice.

"At leascht my mom waschn't a whore," Murderface said, not teasing, harshness in his voice apparent to everybody. An air of awkwardness settled in the truck.

"Wells," Skwisgaar said. He cleared his throat. "Lookingks at you, I ams sure dat yous mom ams hideoyus."

"My mom isch dead, you asschole," Murderface said, deadpan. He crossed his arms tight over his chest, hatred painted over every feature of his face, eyes dark. Toki felt nerves creeping in through his high. Skwisgaar had his jaw set tight, probably grinding his teeth to the point of pain, and Toki lifted to feather his fingers along Skwisgaar's jawline, then over his lips, up to his eyes, pulling the eyelids down. Calm down, he was trying to say.

Nobody had the balls to follow up that conversation. Toki continued to drag his fingers along Skwisgaar's body, in every place appropriate for a public viewing and then some, the same message in his touch. It was not entirely unselfish; Toki needed Skwisgaar to be at least neutral, at least lukewarm, not angry, not icy. He needed Skwisgaar, if not jovial, at least peaceful. He needed him prepared for that night. Skwisgaar didn't stop Toki but didn't encourage him, just sat in the middle of Nathan's truck with his arms crossed and knees apart, firm in his posture. Murderface fumed more obviously, muttering under his breath and tapping his feet, crossing and uncrossing his arms.

The silence persisted as they pulled into Charles's driveway. Toki let himself fall behind Skwisgaar and put a hand on Pickles's shoulder to pull him behind Nathan and Murderface. Walking separate from the group, Toki looked at Pickles and bit his lip.

"Pickle," Toki said, and he chewed his lip some more. Pickles rolled his eyes and slowed their pace, letting the gap between them and the rest of their friends grow. "You likes Skwisgaar, right?"

Pickles nodded. "I thought we talked about this, like, two months ago, Toki," he said.

"Wells," Toki said. "I like Skwisgaar." Pickles rubbed his forehead and slouched, exasperated. "And I wants de others to likes him too! I just wants us all to be happies." He whispered the last word and frowned.

"Look, it's Murderface, you know how he is," Pickles said. He straightened up and clapped Toki on the back. "Give it a few minutes and he'll be talkin' again. We like Skwisgaar just fine, alright? Don't worry, geeze, you're high, you should be, y'know, high." He took his hands from Toki's back and took another joint from his pocket, gave it to Toki, and lit it for him. "Maybe it's wearin' off. Here you go, buddy."

"Thanks, Pickle," Toki said. He smiled and brought the joint to his lips, sucked some in and held it longer than he usually did. He blew it out with a short cough. "You's da best."

Pickles clapped him on the back again. They sped up to join the rest of the group as Nathan opened the door, holding it open for Pickles and walking off when it was Murderface's turn to enter. Murderface grumbled and swung the door open wide with the fatty expanse of his forearm. Toki found Skwisgaar at his side, Skwisgaar slipping a hand inside Toki's back pocket and arching his eyebrows.

"Whats you talks to Pickle about?" Skwisgaar asked, curious. He hooked the thumb of the hand in Toki's back pocket around one of Toki's belt loops and yanked.

"Oh, you knows," Toki said. He blew air out of his mouth and then brought his joint to his lips, giving him more time to think. He remembered then that he was going to talk to Pickles about what he planned to do tonight; he would find Pickles later, he decided, if he needed to. He exhaled and continued talking. "Just getting some more weed."

"Oh, gives to me." Skwisgaar took the joint from Toki's mouth and sucked on it. "Dat's some good shit," he said when he exhaled, handing it back to Toki.

They walked through Charles's living room and towards the kitchen, where everybody else was. It was around six thirty and maybe half of those who would be attending the party had arrived. Charles was standing in his kitchen near the stove, the sleeves of his button-up pushed towards his elbows and a tie hanging around his neck. On his side was Abigail, holding a clutch purse and smiling with ease. She was pretty, Toki thought, but he hadn't forgiven her for the rift that she had drove between Nathan and Pickles. It had been almost three months and they still weren't back to normal. Pickles sat on a countertop, as he was prone to doing, holding an opened bottle of wine between his knees, while Nathan drifted near him. He seemed to be in a conversation with Charles that had just lapsed. There were other people in the kitchen that Toki recognized but didn't know, hanging around with drinks in their hands and holding their own conversations.

"I was just saying, ah," Charles said. He cleared his throat and adjusted the tie around his neck; Abigail looked at him and her hands twitched. "That Abigail and I—we're in a relationship. We're dating. And we have been for, ah, quite some time." He didn't make eye contact with Nathan nor Pickles as he said that, but with his nails, examining them.

Skwisgaar looked at Toki and propped an eyebrow. "It ams complicated," Toki whispered, then whipped his head to watch whatever drama unfold, crossing his fingers behind his back that there would be none.

"Oh," Nathan said. There was a beat. Pickles swigged from the wine, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Cool." Nathan ripped the wine from Pickles's hand and put it to his own mouth.

"Yeah," Pickles said. "Cool." He looked at Nathan, a conversational pause gestating, then propelled himself from the countertop and slung his arms around Nathan's neck, his legs around Nathan's side. Nathan leaned back, his arms spreading in the air, the bottle of wine in his left hand. "Isn't this great, Nate? Isn't it just wonderful? Charles and Abigail! Makes perfect sense! I am so sorry, you douchebag, I really am."

"What?" Nathan looked confused and maybe a little scared. He looked down at the top of Pickles's head as Pickles nuzzled his forehead into Nathan's neck. "The fuck are you talking about, Pickles? Why are you saying sorry?"

Pickles leaned back from Nathan and looked at him. "Nevermind," he said, grinning. He reached a hand up and took the wine from Nathan, then climbed down him. He stood in front of Nathan, turned to Charles, and started talking again.

"I has no ideas whats just happened." Skwisgaar tugged on Toki's belt loop with his thumb to get his attention. Toki looked at him and shrugged, stood on his tippy-toes to kiss Skwisgaar's nose. Skwisgaar rolled his eyes; Toki laughed and licked at his lips before returning the soles of his feet to the ground. Skwisgaar pocketed the joint Toki had given him and wrapped his hands around Toki's hips, pulled him closer, pressed his lips to Toki's forehead without kissing it. Toki closed his eyes and smiled.

"Everybody'sch happy but me," Murderface said from somewhere behind Toki. Toki pulled out from Skwisgaar's grasp and looked around to see him leaning in the doorway, arms and legs crossed, head down. Toki wanted to frown, wanted to sympathize, but found himself unable to.

"I's sorry," Toki said, though he didn't mean it. He looked at Murderface for a few seconds, frowning because of his inability to sympathize, before he lost interest. One of Skwisgaar's hands traveled from Toki's hip and to the small of his back, forcing his body towards the main conversation in the kitchen.

Abigail had stopped fidgeting with her purse and her hands and had placed it on the counter behind her. She stood with her shoulder pressed into Charles's upper arm and her elbows pushed behind her. Charles was speaking; he had his hands neat beside his hips, good posture to the point of discomfort, classic Charles.

"Magnus ah. Mentioned you, Nathan," Charles said. He tugged at his tie again, angling his head so the light hitting his glasses hid his eyes.

"What'd he say?" Pickles asked, pulling the wine from his mouth and squinting, his expression switching from content to contempt in an almost comical amount of time. "Why were you talkin' to Magnus, Charles?"

"I ran into him the other day at work," Charles said. "He—"

"Wait. What was he doing at your dad's office?" That was Nathan, whose expression of fright and confusion had only magnified at the mention of Magnus.

Charles grew more uncomfortable, fidgeting with his hands and his tie again. Abigail rolled her eyes and leaned over to adjust his tie for him while Charles closed his eyes and tilted his head. Skwisgaar looked at Toki, confused, and Toki raised a finger to his lips. Toki wanted to hear about Magnus, too, even if he shared in Pickles's paranoia and Nathan's confusion and fright. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, collecting the negative emotions and hanging them above their heads. The atmosphere silenced and pushed everybody in the kitchen out that hadn't had contact with Magnus before, Skwisgaar remaining because of Toki.

"He was considering suing you," Charles said, opening his eyes. Abigail pulled back from him and crossed her arms over her chest. "I told him the case couldn't stand in the court since the charges were dropped and the official police report says that, well, it didn't happen."

"Oh," Nathan said. Pickles's mouth was occupied with sucking wine out of the bottle. "Okay. That's. That's not too bad."

"I told you not to bring it up," Abigail said. She and Charles exchanged a glance, doing that thing that couples do where they hold a conversation without words, and Toki felt gleeful at his newfound ability to identify things like that. He opened his mouth to say something—he wasn't really sure what—but Skwisgaar cut him off, leaning down to talk into Toki's ear.

"De fucks just happens?" Skwisgaar asked. His voice made Toki's ear vibrate.

"Comes with me, I's explain," Toki said. He reached for Skwisgaar's hand and held it, led him away from the kitchen. Toki took Skwisgaar upstairs, leading him through the complicated layout of Charles's house and past fellow partygoers, into one of Charles's guest bedrooms, a spacious room with a queen-sized bed covered in an off-white quilt. Toki sat on the bed, bringing Skwisgaar beside him, and folded his hands in his lap. The light in the guest room was on, soft and considerate, the window framed by heavy curtains and showing off the starless night sky and Charles's well-manicured backyard. Toki looked out at Charles's grounds, past the landscaping and into the blackness, something heavy settling in his chest.

"Wells?" Skwisgaar asked.

Toki sighed, a long and hard sigh, blowing his hair away with his mouth. He fell backwards onto the bed. Skwisgaar did not follow, only turned his torso so he could see Toki as Toki began to talk. "Nathan and Magnus were real good pals freshmen year," Toki said. He closed his eyes, the light bothering them. "Magnus was in de twelfths grade. Me and Moidaface didn'ts likes him. I thoughts he was kinda creepy, as least tos me." He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands. The light was really bothering them. "He was Nathan and Pickle's friend, like how Charles ams now."

"Okays," Skwisgaar said, drawing the word out. "This amns't explainginks nothingks, Toki."

"I's getting there!" Toki took his hands from his eyes, letting them open so he could glare at Skwisgaar. "Anyways, Magnus was botherings me and Pickle one day after school at Nathan's house and he and Nathan gots into a real big fights." He let his hands rest on his stomach and sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. Fucking light. "Nathan punched him in de eye and now Magnus ams blind in dat eyeball."

Toki heard the mattress shift and felt Skwisgaar's weight fall beside him, then felt Skwisgaar's hand on Toki's own. "Heavies," Skwisgaar said. "Brutals, though."

Toki laughed. "You ams talkingks like Nathan," he said. He opened his eyes and rolled his head to face Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar reached over and tucked Toki's hair behind Toki's ear, which made him feel like a girl, but he was too drugged to protest.

Skwisgaar shrugged, or did the best he could to replicate a shrug while laying down. "I picks it up," he said. "You says Magnus ams was creepy, why?"

Toki closed his eyes again. The light in the room was seriously bothering him for some reason, probably due to how high he was. He couldn't find the words to say while Magnus was creepy and settled for, "The way he looked at me and de others. Spookies. I never likes him. I's glad he gones."

Skwisgaar pried Toki's eyelids open; Toki tried to blink and failed, his irises darting around. Skwisgaar leaned in close to his face and stared into Toki's eyes, unnerving Toki any further, the edges of Skwisgaar's visage blurred and buzzing. "Me too, den," Skwisgaar said, and he let Toki's eyelids drop as he put his mouth onto Toki's.

Toki felt jittery, like something was off, but he kissed Skwisgaar anyway. They swung their legs up onto the bed and made out on top of the quilt, Skwisgaar on his back and Toki crouching over him, their mouths working against each other's and hands traveling the lengths of their bodies, a pretty standard make-out session. Toki was aware of his corporeal senses, skin in his hands and the mattress supporting him, but he was very much somewhere else in the spiritual sense, something nasty curling inside of him, dark thoughts, dark intentions, darkness. Toki held his hands onto Skwisgaar's hips as Skwisgaar moved his lips down Toki's jawline and craned up to suck behind his ear; Toki readjusted himself so he was more or less straddling Skwisgaar's lap; Skwisgaar pushed his hands up from Toki's ass to just underneath his shirt, his thumbs rolling up while his palms moved to the taut stretch of muscle on both sides that dipped inwards. Toki jumped back onto the balls of his feet.

Skwisgaar didn't bother feigning or forcing understanding at this point; he crossed his arms and kicked his head back, set his lips tight and stared at Toki. Toki started chewing on the bottom of his lip and wringing his hands, feeling like he might puke, nastiness inside of him lurching. "What de fucks ams wrongs with yous?" Skwisgaar asked, snarling.

"Just—" Toki was going to spill. Exactly what, he didn't know, but something was going to spill. Everything was going wrong, now, and his skin felt hot. He could feel his blood rushing, working beneath his skin, loud as the ocean in his ears. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip until he tasted blood, squeezed his hands hard enough it hurt.

"I's likes yous body, I'ds likes to sees it," Skwisgaar continued. He was sneering, his posture unwelcoming, and it was stressing Toki out even further. The light overheard was too bright, too garish, and this was probably the worst high Toki had had in a while. "I's waited and I's beens understandingks—"

"I knows you had," Toki said. He stopped biting his bottom lip, stopped wringing his hands, felt tears begin to form, saw them collect in his eyelashes. He blinked them away the best he could, sniffled. Goosebumps rose on his arms, a chill starting across his shoulders and spreading throughout his body, and still he could hear his blood and see that fucking light.

"Ams you havingks a bad trip?" Skwisgaar asked, cocking his head and peering at Toki. Toki heard the different parts to Skwisgaar's voice, criticism and caring both, maybe, but his brain was not capable of processing it at the moment. Toki nodded.

"Dat's not all," Toki said. He stopped trying to fight the tears, let them flow. It wasn't the first time he'd cried in front of Skwisgaar—Toki was a crier, especially when stoned, and Skwisgaar usually mocked him for it or acted disgusted, but now he was just looking at Toki with this half-confused, half-critical, half-caring face that only made Toki want to cut his wrists and bleed out on the floor in front of him—but it was important. This was important. "Just—looks!" Toki said, and in one motion he crisscrossed his arms and ripped his shirt off, turned to show Skwisgaar his back.

It was quiet. The world seemed to stop, the nerves that had been fizzling in Toki's body calmed for the moment being. He didn't know if he was coming down from the high or what, but he was scared, he was biting his lip and tasting the blood and seeing light and crying, his body racked. Toki trembled and swallowed bile three times before Skwisgaar did anything. He heard weight shift, a mattress groan, the soft rustling of fabric moving, and it was all magnified to him, until he felt a light touch on his back, just the pad of fingertips, tracing over the network of scars.

Skwisgaar didn't say anything for a long time after that, only followed Toki's scars up and down and all around with this feathery touch. Toki stopped trembling, stopped crying, stopped spilling, but he was still on edge, still coming down from this bad trip, feeling both physical and mental exhaustion. The room, though large, now felt quite small, a vessel disconnected and floating through space, the darkness outside seeming unending and whole. Alone with Skwisgaar, alone with the scars, alone with them both, in this softly lit room with infinity waiting outside. Skwisgaar stood and wrapped his arms around Toki's neck, light as his fingertips on his back, and lowered his head to Toki's shoulder, let it rest there. Toki didn't move.

Skwisgaar spoke after holding Toki like that for a few minutes, their breathing synched. "Who does that to you," he said. His voice was tense but soft, his lips moving against the bare skin of Toki's shoulder. He sounded like he already knew the answer.

Toki swallowed back the lump in his throat, told himself not to cry again, and raised a hand to run over Skwisgaar's wrist. He didn't answer his question. "I's sorry," he said, instead.

Skwisgaar pulled back from Toki. Toki turned to face him. Skwisgaar's face was impassive in only the way Skwisgaar could make it, and had Toki had the strength, it probably would've frustrated him. "What ams you sorry for?" Skwisgaar asked. He narrowed his eyes at Toki, crossed his arms, stuck a hip to the side.

"I's ugly," Toki said. He cast his eyes down, sighed. Shame. "If you doesn't want me—"

"You ams such a babies," Skwisgaar said. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, grimaced. "Dat's not what I means. I doesn't care. I asks you, who does dat?"

"Why's you want to know?" Toki wanted to mirror Skwisgaar's stance, stick out a hip and cross his arms, take his position and ground. He told his muscles to do that but his muscles didn't listen to him. They preferred to go lax and limp, making Toki feel more like a rag doll than a human being.

"So I can kills dem, obvskilee," Skwisgaar said.

Toki closed his eyes. It was the only thing he could make his body do. He felt the bad high, the bad emotions, the nastiness, all draining from him, and it made him so tired, so goddamn tired, he wanted to get under that quilt and fall asleep until the next year, literally. "You can'ts kill dem," he said.

"Why's not?"

"You can'ts tell dis to anybody," Toki said. He opened his eyes, looked at Skwisgaar, and paused. This had been his plan. He had wanted to tell Skwisgaar this tonight, he reminded himself. You can do this, he told himself, you are strong enough. Skwisgaar deserves to know; you love Skwisgaar, you do, he understands you better than any of those other guys, he'll understand. He doesn't care about your scars. He cares about you. He told himself these things, and he believed them, he did, but his brain and his body were working on two different levels.

"I wouldn'ts," Skwisgaar said. He started tapping his foot, kept his arms cross, hip jutted. Toki opened his mouth and couldn't make the words come out, still. "Wells?" Skwisgaar asked. He rolled his eyes and then rolled them back down, looked at Toki. "Comes on, Toki," he said. He looked at his wrist like he expected a watch to be there, though Toki had never seen Skwisgaar wear one. Skwisgaar sighed, relaxed his posture, put his hands on Toki's arm and established eye contact, softened his face. "I loves you, ja?"

A pause. Then, "My parents." Toki closed his eyes. Too many things were happening, just too much stuff, and he let himself fall into Skwisgaar, let him hold him. Skwisgaar's hold was loose, tentative, his back rigid, and Toki couldn't see his face again, couldn't judge his emotions. He didn't need to. Into Skwisgaar's chest he said, quiet but loud enough for Skwisgaar to hear, "I loves you too, by de way." He let himself smile, which felt strange in wake of what had just happened, foreign and unfamiliar.

"You's parents?" Skwisgaar said, ignoring Toki's words against his chest. He leaned back, still holding Toki at the forearms, and looked at him. "You's parents does this?"

Toki nodded. "I just says dat," he said.

Skwisgaar made a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl. "I still kills dem, ja?" He said. "What type of parents does dis to dere kid? And I thoughts my moms was bad. Odin."

"It ams—my dad, he ams religious, my moms ams too, they says I ams unholy and unworthy and all dese other things. It ams always been like this." Toki frowned, furrowed his brow. "I doesn't likes it, obviouslies, but I can't changes it."

Skwisgaar stopped holding Toki's arm, walked around the room a few times and then sat on the bed, put his forehead in his hands. He kept repeating the names of Norse gods under his breath, going through the entire line-up, uttering them like they were the vilest of curses. Toki stood in the middle of the room, feeling calm and centered and too tired for anything else. Skwisgaar raised his head and shut his eyes, spoke Toki's name, called him to his side. Toki sat down next to him and Skwisgaar took his hand, held it between them.

"Fucks yous parents," Skwisgaar said, as if he had come to some sort of profound conclusion. He looked not at Toki but at their interlocked hands. "Fucks dem, ja? I's here for yous."

"I doesn't want to talk about dem," Toki said. "I really, really doesn't."

"What does you want, den?" Skwisgaar looked at Toki now, stroked his cheek, his thumb running the length of a tearstain. Toki's face was swollen and tender to the touch but he leaned into Skwisgaar's hand regardless.

"To sleeps," Toki said. He closed his eyes, sighed, put a hand on Skwisgaar's hand on his face to still it. "What times ams it?"

It took a few seconds for Skwisgaar to pull his phone from his pocket and check the time. Toki listened to the movement. "It ams around eight thirties," Skwisgaar said.

"Okays." Toki let himself fall backwards onto the bed once more. Fuck emotions; they were hard, exhausting work. He rolled over onto his side and curled into a fetal position. "Wakes me up for de ball dropping. Goes has fun at de parties." He fell asleep before Skwisgaar could respond.

He woke up to find himself tucked underneath the quilt, his head on the pillow, his body positioned in the bed as it should be. His shirt was folded on the nightstand next to the lamp, the only light in the room. He expected to see Skwisgaar somewhere in the room, maybe leaning against the window and smoking, but instead he saw Pickles sitting on the floor beside the bed, reading a book by lamplight.

"G'morning, Sleepin' Beauty," Pickles said. He shut the book and put it on the nightstand as he stood up; Frankenstein. He grabbed a bottle of liquor Toki had failed to notice sitting on the bedside table and drank from it.

"What times ams it?" Toki asked. He sat up in bed and pressed his back against the headboard, shielding the scars from Pickles's eyes, keeping his bruised arms beneath the blanket. "Where's Skwisgaar?"

"He's hangin' out downstairs," Pickles said. "Nathan took a likin' to him. When I left, he was playin' quarters with 'em and Abigail and tryin' to get Charles to join in." He chuckled. "It's like eleven-thirty, dude, I was put on Toki watch."

"Ohs," Toki said. "Can you gives to me my shirt?" Pickles handed it to him. Toki unfolded it and put it back on, rolling the sleeves down over his arms. "Okays."

"Skwisgaar said you had a bad trip," Pickles said. "That sucks, dude. We normally don't get that from Seth's stuff, y'know?" He thrust the bottle towards Toki not to offer it but as a comforting gesture.

"Yeah," Toki said, nodding.

"Well, we better get downstairs, then." Pickles left the room without waiting for Toki, brandishing the bottle. Toki rolled out of the bed and left it as it was, the quilt twisted and clearly slept in. As he walked he rubbed his eyes and readjusted his hair, trying to rouse his body from sleep. He hadn't dreamed and was feeling pretty sober (which he intended to change soon) but also refreshed.

From the top of the stairs he could see that the party had reached its high point, people milling around and walking in and out of rooms. He descended the stairs, yawning, and stumbled through the maze that constituted Charles's mansion of a house until he found Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar was still playing quarters in Charles's den, positioned to toss as Toki flocked to his side, Nathan, Murderface and Pickles standing around the coffee table that had the cups on it. Skwisgaar missed and shrugged, picking up a bottle of beer near him on the table and drinking out of it before acknowledging Toki.

"Wells, wells, wells," he said, as he put an arm around Toki and passed him the bottle he was drinking out of. Toki declined and looked towards Pickles, who nodded at him and fished a joint from his pocket for Toki. "It ams de sleepyheads."

"Oh, fucks you," Toki said, around a yawn. "Gives to me de quarters." Skwisgaar gave him the quarter and he took it with the hand not holding the joint, shooting it neatly into a cup. "You's drunk enough," he said to Skwisgaar, and then to Pickles, "you drink, Pickle."

"Happily." Pickles took a swig from the bottle that had been on Toki's nightstand. Toki laughed and lifted the joint to his mouth.

They played quarters until Charles came into the room and turned the huge television hanging on the opposite wall to a channel displaying the ball in Times Square. Five minutes to go and Toki was good and stoned, Skwisgaar drunk and swaying, everybody else packing in around them. Nathan and Pickles were in the back of the room, Pickles sitting on Nathan's shoulders and supporting himself with the wall, Nathan tall enough to see over everybody's heads; Charles and Abigail were in the front, both short people, Charles's arm chaste around Abigail's waist. Toki couldn't locate Murderface but he'd gotten a text from Dick, who was somewhere at the party but not with them, just before Charles showed up and bought the general bulk of the party into the den to watch the new year roll in. Skwisgaar and Toki smiled at one another, Toki blowing smoke in Skwisgaar's face and Skwisgaar squeezing his shoulder, and waited for the ball to drop.

They joined in on shouting the countdown, Skwisgaar in Swedish and Toki in Norwegian. When they got to en they paused, looked at each other, then jammed their lips together in the sloppiest kiss Toki had had, period. Toki leaned up and crossed his arms around Skwisgaar's neck, their hair caught between their faces and tangling, Toki arching onto his toes and smiling, smiling so hard it interfered with the kissing, people whooping and hollering around them. That sense of infinity, of being alone in the world, had returned, caught in the space between two years, caught in the space between two boys, euphoria and order returned.

Skwisgaar pulled back first, keeping only a centimeter between their faces. "Happies New Years," he said.

Toki nodded, his forehead knocking into Skwisgaar's, closed his eyes, started to cry, just a little bit, a happy little bit. "Happy New Year," he said, back, and he pulled on Skwisgaar's neck harder, Skwisgaar pulled around Toki's waist harder. It was the New Year, and they were together.