CHAPTER 9

By the time Ludwig came back from The Cozy Cat, it was well past noon. Locking the door behind him, he kicked off his shoes, dashed into the downstairs washroom, and promptly threw up.

He flushed the toilet and retched again. He waited until the tank filled up and flushed one more time. The only thing he'd consumed today was a protein shake and a nutrition bar earlier so there wasn't much to expel. Hot acid burned his throat and the inside of his nose. His stomach had the audacity to growl with hunger, as if it hadn't just decided to get rid of what little he gave it this morning.

He rinsed his mouth at the sink and stumbled up the stairs to the bedroom, tearing off his clothes without caring where they landed. A text from Alfred had arrived sometime between now and his torturous bus ride back home. U at home? Ludwig quickly shot off a Just got back and turned on the shower in the adjoining bathroom. He stood under the scalding stream, steadying himself against the tiled wall until his heart no longer resided in his throat.

Showers were a good place to hyper-analyze every interaction he had throughout the day. Not today. The only thing he recalled was the hot-iron sweep of Ivan's finger on his nape. The blind panic at his inquiry, the thought of—things—coming to light. Being trapped in between the bookshelves, and the few seconds of utterly irrational, yet unquestionable certainty in his head that Ivan was about to...

Stop that. He dug his nails into his palms to stop the spiraling thoughts. Ivan hadn't raised his hand, or even his voice to indicate that he had wanted to hurt him. He hadn't done anything that could have possibly been interpreted as such. He'd simply been curious. Anyone would have been, especially someone who was able to recognize that Ludwig had been choked to the extent of leaving long-lasting bruises. Ludwig replayed the scene over and over again, each time reaffirming the facts and engraving them into his brain.

Belated shame swept over him, soaking his hair and burning his skin like the water rolling off his body. He began considering the possibility that he was actually losing his mind. Had Ivan noticed the way he overreacted for no reason at all? Had he taken offense to anything Ludwig might have shown in his expression or body language? Would he ever bring it up again, joking about whether Ludwig enjoyed bar crawling on the weekends and jumping into fights at the slightest provocation?

That fictional scenario, he could work with. It wasn't entirely untrue, either. As a student, he probably could have driven blindfolded to every pub and bar around his university.

He scrubbed clean with body wash to rid himself of the uncomfortable tension from having puked and breathed in the hot air to calm himself.

The water eventually turned lukewarm and then borderline cold from how long he'd let it run. He stepped out, wiped away the condensation on the mirror and studied the marks on his neck. His throat appeared more or less normal from the front, and the shadow of his chin worked well to disguise the faint yellow and brown. It was very hard to see as long as nobody looked too closely from the side or behind. It was impressively unlucky how such a small, unimportant detail had managed to catch Ivan's eye in that dark little corner. Maybe the few rays of sun filtering through the window had placed an unfortunate spotlight on him.

He had just walked back into the bedroom, dripping wet because he had forgotten towels. The sound of the doorbell stopped him in his tracks, his breathing, and perhaps even his heartbeat.

It was nearing three o'clock according to their bedside alarm clock. Ludwig frantically checked the calendar next to the dresser. Ralph was scheduled to come back in three days. The doorbell rang again.

Wrapping himself robotically in one of Ralph's silk robes, Ludwig clunked downstairs to the front door and brought his face to the peephole like he was prepared to see a ghost standing on his porch.

...Alfred?

Sure enough, it was him. He wore the brown bomber jacket Ludwig recognized from their school days. His hands fidgeted with his belt buckle, his stance artificially relaxed.

Ludwig began opening the door with shaking hands, but Alfred had already seen him through the crack and threw it open the rest of the way with one fell swoop of his arm.

"There you are!" he exclaimed, eyes gleaming triumphantly behind his glasses. "I knew this was the one!"

"How, how did," Ludwig stammered, barely raising his palm in time to meet Alfred's high five. "How did you know where I was?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" said Alfred, deadpan. "This is Ralph's house. Where else would you be?"

"But this place," Ludwig insisted, ignoring the off-handed jab. "How do you know this address?"

"I dropped you off here once. Don't you remember? When we left the hotel after I got my flying license and we got wasted the night before."

"That was... years ago," croaked Ludwig. He felt weak at the knees. "There was no guarantee that I'd still be here. What if we had moved?"

Alfred shrugged, nonchalant. "Oopsy daisy," he said, as if the thought of knocking on a stranger's door wasn't terrifying in the slightest. "Yeah, I def's could have walked up to some random family's house... but I took my chances! So you gonna let me in or not?"

Ludwig very reluctantly stepped aside, his hair still dripping and soaking his shoulders. Alfred plopped onto the couch, letting out a low whistle as he stroked the premium leather. "Hot damn," he commented, surveying the living area with thinly veiled contempt. "Them trust fund babies sure know their way around interior design. Is that, perchance, mahogany?"

"Don't you have a plane to catch?" Ludwig asked, anxiety shooting through the roof just by seeing Alfred exist in the space he only shared with Ralph. It felt wrong, almost criminal. It felt like Ralph could burst through the door at any minute and catch the two of them inside. He grew lightheaded at the mere thought of the two in the same room.

"I did," said Alfred, stretching both feet up on the mahogany coffee table. "Not anymore. Did a little switcheroo with a work buddy, now I got a whole month free."

"You can't just dump your shift onto your coworkers without notice."

"Nah dude, he owes me. I took on some of his Christmas flights last year. Weren't too stoked about it being so last minute, though."

"What'd you do that for?"

"I dunno, just felt like a break. Hang out with my pals. See what's good. Stuff like that."

"And then you come here, of all places?" He couldn't believe this guy. Ludwig swallowed. "What if he had answered the door?"

"I'd fucking—..." Alfred cut himself off, sighed, and shook his head. "Nevermind. Like I said, I took my chances. Could have been you or him or some random-ass dude. And look, it's you. Lucky me." He waved his hands in a parody of celebration. "When's he coming back?"

"...Not until Sunday."

"Nice, we got the weekend to ourselves. Did you ever tell him just how perfectly trashable this place looks? As in, the kind of place that'd get wrecked by a high school party. The ones that end in broken windows and cops pulling up."

"Sorry but you can't stay here too long," Ludwig said, ignoring the unsolicited property evaluation. "I don't feel good about this. I'm not supposed to have visitors..."

"Should we go outside then? Technically I'm not visiting if we're just chatting in the middle of the fucking road."

"I'm serious. If there's even one thing out of place he'll know."

"He's not a goddamn psychic, he won't know. What's he gonna do, sniff out my pheromones lingering in the air?"

Ludwig didn't mention how back in the day, Ralph had been scarily good at picking up traces of other people's colognes that stuck to him after coming back from a night out with friends.

"Let's go do some stuff. Bowling then dinner? Or wanna watch something? There's a new alien invasion movie out in IMAX! I haven't been to the theater in so long. Come oonnn, bro."

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose. He had planned on a quick power nap, and then starting on going through his exorbitant checklist of things to take care of in preparation for Ralph's return. Having refused Ivan's invite to lunch earlier, his stomach—now even emptier—was protesting desperately at the mention of food.

It was incredible how easily the influence of friends could destroy his grip on self-restraint. And when that person was Alfred, Ludwig knew he was in for a losing battle. He thought back to today's date, and the checklist he'd typed up on his phone.

Ralph was, after all, still three days away.

"We can grab a bite then," he relented. "I haven't eaten anything yet."

Alfred released a hoot and sprang off the couch. "Let's fucking go! I know where they have the best Big Macs in town... I'm just kidding, my guy. Calm down." Cackling, he marched past Ludwig's look of disgust and into the kitchen space. "I'll just be here while you get ready then."

"Don't touch anything," Ludwig warned. "And don't take anything out of the pantry, either. All his stuff's in there."

"Does he count how many Doritos are left in the bag or what?" Alfred said sarcastically. "I'm just getting some water, don't worry."

"Use only the small blue glasses." instructed Ludwig. "In the cabinet left of the sink. The clear ones are for alcohol only—"

"Okay, okay! Jesus Christ." The last part was muttered under his breath, which Ludwig heard anyway. "I'll behave, I promise. You can go upstairs now."

Ludwig reluctantly did, and quickly dried his hair. He pulled on the sweater that was crumpled on the floor. He looked longingly at the bed he was supposed to be in right now. Somehow, what was supposed to be a relaxing week without Ralph around had turned out to be one of the busiest, most unpredictable series of events he experienced in a while. It was to be expected, he supposed, if he were to introduce the concept of friends back into his life for more than a few hours at a time.

Despite his continued threats of taking them down a McDonald's drive-thru, they ended up in front of a brunch bar that looked extremely overpriced. Alfred did most of the chatting by himself at first. By the time early evening rolled in, they were both talking over each other about old school rivalries and grades. They bought tickets to the alien invasion movie and Ludwig patiently sat through the longest two and a half hours of his life, watching a new city erupt into flames every five minutes while Alfred leaned off the edge of his seat the whole time.

Dinner was at a restaurant that was an hour's drive away. Even the garden surrounding the parking stalls looked expensively pruned. Alfred had to practically drag Ludwig inside, threatening to tie him down to the chair if he didn't sit down.

"Stop pouting," Alfred said. "Being a sugar daddy to my friends is my kink."

"Send me the receipt later," Ludwig repeated. "I'm not joking. You can't pay for both our meals, twice, in the same day."

"You paid for the tickets and my popcorn. Who even carries that much cash around these days?" Alfred crossed his arms. "The popcorn alone must have been like 5 meals' worth. And no offense but I'm probably making way more than you right now. It's only logical, right?"

Ludwig glared. Alfred's trademark smugness hadn't gone anywhere since they parted ways after graduation. They each ordered their food and Ludwig failed his attempt at trying to get the cheapest option on the menu.

As they worked through salmon steaks and baked lasagna, Alfred talked about his brother, Matthew. He was doing an undergraduate Fine Arts degree in Toronto, but was expressing an interest in flying planes like Alfred, apparently. Ludwig swiped through pictures Matthew had sent Alfred of his wild camping trips. More than half the photos were of various forest animals. Alfred commented on how lucky Matthew was to still be in possession of all his limbs, considering how often he ran into bears while tenting out up in northern BC.

"Yo, look." They were halfway through their dinner when Alfred spoke up again, mouth full of arugula salad. He nudged Ludwig's silently ringing phone, which had been carelessly tossed on the table.

"Give me that," Ludwig muttered, snatching his phone away. He shoved it into his back pocket where it poked uncomfortably into his ass.

"Why would a medical clinic be calling you at 8:17pm?"

Ludwig rubbed his face into his hand. "It's not." Things just weren't letting up for him today. "It's the... friend I mentioned before. At Gilbert's."

"Oh my God," wheezed Alfred. "You seriously saved that guy's number as United Health Walk-in? Jesus Christ on a bicycle, say it ain't so."

"Yes, I know it's dumb already. We can move on."

"What the hell is mine saved as then, fuckin' Jollibee's?"

"I don't have you saved as anything," Ludwig said, exasperated. "It's just a string of numbers. Which I memorized. And deleted after every call and text."

"Man, I honestly don't know if I should feel touched or offended right now."

"How about 'indifferent'? Who cares what I save my contacts list as?"

"He goes through your fucking phone! Ain't that illegal or something? It's gotta be, there's some serious breach of privacy going on here."

"There's no such thing as privacy in this day and age." Alfred made a face that clearly screamed, seriously? and Ludwig sighed. "It's only in case he happens to see when it's lying around. Like you did just now."

His friend at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Wasn't on purpose, my eyes just moved."

"Exactly," Ludwig said pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

His friend sighed. "Alrighty, fine! Whatever. I think I talked enough about myself, so why don't you tell me about him now."

"About who?"

"Who do you think? Mr. walk-in clinic, duh! What's his actual name, for one?"

"Ivan," said Ludwig. It was weird to speak his name out loud in front of someone else. He could feel his ears growing warm for no reason and hoped the restaurant lighting was dim enough to hide it.

Like hell it was. Alfred had already paused in shoveling more salad into his mouth.

"...Okay," he said, eyes glued to his friend while he resumed his slow and deliberate chewing. "Good to know y'all keep in touch. Think you'll hang out again?"

"Probably. I don't know." Ludwig didn't have much time left to tell Ivan that his freedom was on borrowed time, that he likely wouldn't be able to meet for coffee or visit bookshops again for a while, if at all. It was inevitable, of course, but the thought depressed him much more than he anticipated. Spending time with Ivan—being with him—had turned into something he found himself craving, no matter how much he already had.

Alfred was now squinting suspiciously across the table. "Is he more than a friend to you, Lud?"

"Are you crazy?" Horrified, Ludwig glanced around their table and dropped his voice to a whisper, as if he feared someone was recording their conversation. "I'm still in a relationship. How could I even think of..." He couldn't finish that sentence. Even speaking of such a thing made him shudder. He couldn't possibly dare, not when Ralph was so... so...

"You realize that was totally not a normal response to being asked about a friend, right? What's going on? You can tell me."

"Nothing's going on. He's just another one of you. Or Kiku, or Feliciano." Ludwig cringed inwardly at the sound of their names dropping from his mouth. People whom he'd abandoned, all because he was too cowardly to stand there and lie to their faces.

"Dude... we're practically the last friends you ever made," said Alfred. His expression was uncharacteristically reserved, almost calculative. "After you met Ralph, I dunno... even back then, you were already shutting yourself out. I guess I just wanna know why he's special. Ivan, I mean."

"You're starting to sound like Gilbert," Ludwig pointed out tiredly.

"I know right. Can't stay too long around the guy, I swear."

The sound of utensils scraping ceramic filled the pause between them. The waiter came by and asked how things were going. Alfred gave a thumbs up. More loud silence.

"So does Ivan know you have his number saved under an alias in case a totally-not-insecure-partner goes snooping through your phone—"

"Alfred, please stop."

Something must have changed in Ludwig's tone, because Alfred actually did. He snapped his mouth closed, leaned back into his seat, and took a giant gulp of his Coke. The raucous restaurant noises seemed to swell around them.

It was only after Alfred slurped through all of his Coke he did speak again. "Sorry." He coughed. "Was probably too much."

Ludwig shook his head, keeping his eyes trained on his plate. He could feel Alfred still looking at him. There now had to be pity in that gaze. It was the only proper way to view someone living such a pitiable life.

Alfred ordered himself a beer. He quickly changed his order to two beers, even though Ludwig made a very pointed effort to not appear interested. The bottle was cold and soothing to the touch. Ludwig stared at the familiar logo on it before he took a swig.

He remembered being in university, sitting with Alfred on the floor of his dorm room. He tipped the bottle back and drained half its contents in a single breath. It was his first willing taste of alcohol in years. The thrill washed over rationale, made the hairs stand on the back of his neck. Very soon there was another bottle in front of him and he emptied that one as well. Again and again, until the bottles began accumulating in an orderly file that ran down the side of their table. Alfred continued eating, watching the lineup grow longer and longer but not commenting on it.

Eventually they called a waitress to help clear away their collection and they weren't sitting neck-deep in empty bottles anymore. Ludwig finally had room to rest his elbows on the table as it had become significantly more difficult to remain seated upright.

"That movie was so bad." He started giggling like a maniac when he remembered the spectacular way the main character's wife got blown up by alien lasers. "I can't believe we paid almost thirty bucks to see a bunch'a... a bunch'a..."

"Genius cinematography and cutting-edge CGI," filled in Alfred. He was still nursing his single beer. He reached over to try and drag the latest bottle out of Ludwig's watery hands, who stubbornly held on. "Slow down, you're almost beating your own record."

"S'not that much," Ludwig protested. He found it impossible to keep his chin held high. "C'mon. I never really got to, after that day."

"I thought you said you didn't drink anymore."

"Never said that," Ludwig sighed. "Just don't wanna... at home."

Alfred didn't speak for a while. Or maybe he couldn't hear over the loudness of the restaurant. But then somewhere far away came his trickling question, "Does it get bad when he drinks?"

Ludwig tried to shrug, but couldn't tell if his shoulders made the right gesture. It was bad enough when Ralph was sober. If the alcohol put him in one of his better moods, he'd at least be gentle with Ludwig later in the night. As they'd grown older, those convenient moods came fewer and far between. His hands became rougher, his words harsher. The ropes and handcuffs came out of the drawer like clockwork. Ralph was not a tired, listless drunk. By the time the sky grew light, Ludwig would be near-delirious, rubbing his restraints raw and crying for Ralph to let him sleep.

Alfred had ordered him his favorite beer. Alfred had remembered the address Ludwig had rattled off to him back then. Maybe he'd written it down somewhere. They'd spoken over the phone a couple times after their night of drinking, but he thought they'd lost the connection they had as students. Right now he had no worries to think about, no anxiety to churn his gut. His mind was blissfully silent, swimming in pleasant stupor with no nagging thoughts breaking through. He was happy to lean on this cold restaurant table, belly full and warm with good food and alcohol and the knowledge that Alfred had stuck around.

"I know I promised to stop prying and all but..." He thought Alfred might be still talking. His voice was growing more and more distant at the same rate Ludwig's head grew heavier in his hand. "What you said about leaving Ralph. Please tell me you really did mean it."

"Been thinkin' bout it for years," Ludwig slurred into his elbow. "Gotta take the plunge at some point... just dunno how..."

"Fuckin' hell, Lud." Alfred seemed miles away, and very tired. A funny jingle began playing in the background. "Shit... be right back, I gotta take this..."

Ludwig didn't think any time had passed, but suddenly Alfred was there again, this time sounding much closer to his ear. "Hey man, I'm so fucking sorry ... forgot to ... the airport ... you a ride ..."

He had no idea what Alfred was saying. They were nowhere near the airport, and Ludwig could catch a ride anywhere. Alfred had driven him around, so wasn't he planning on dropping him off again?

Swatting his nonsensical friend away, he must have dozed off at some point. When he came to, he vaguely realized he was moving, though hardly thanks to his own legs. Someone was helping him into a vehicle. The arms bearing his weight didn't feel like Alfred's. The car he was guided into didn't smell like Alfred's car. Through the thick alcoholic haze, he decided that it didn't matter if the hands that appeared to be fastening his seatbelt were this comforting and, strangely enough, familiar at the same time. The window against his forehead was like the beer his friend had bought for him: cool and soothing.

He dreamed of being lifted, gravity vanishing beneath his feet. Being someone of his build, it wasn't something he experienced in real life often. In the darkness, the only sensation he was allowed was that of something warm and solid pressing against his face. He buried his nose into the curve of it, as if it was made to fit him there. His senses filled with something heady and masculine, mixed with the homely scent of fabric softener. Ludwig enjoyed the softness against his cheek and breathed in deeply. He thought he could get drunk all over again on this fragrance alone.

At some point, the back of his head hit something soft and he felt the source of his comfort grow distant. Not wanting to lose it, Ludwig dug in his leaden fingers. He tried dragging whatever it was closer to himself. A feathery sensation tickled his lashes. The solid warmth was moving to pull away again. He tried to verbalize his protests, succeeding only in feeble incoherence.

The same touch from before, familiar in its presence, was holding his face with the utmost of care. He tasted a hint of something sweet, warm and hesitant upon his lips. Ludwig opened his mouth, wishing he could drink its essence, as if he could absorb this feeling of security from within. It responded by pressing down into him, shy and slow movements that began devouring him in its growing sense of urgency. Molten friction caressed the inside of his mouth, growing hot and unbearably pleasurable against his tongue. He couldn't move, couldn't escape, could barely keep up with its starved pace. The sensual suckling on his lips forced his breath to catch in his heavy chest, and he thought he'd be okay with drowning in it.

He didn't drown; the dizzying sensation just ceased to exist. His mouth felt barren, gaping into nothingness and cold air. Tears, unbidden, welled beneath closed eyelids. He tried to chase after whatever it was, but a gentle yet firm pressure stayed his shoulder. The invisible force held him down, ordering him into the foreign surface underneath. The same fresh scent of fabric softener encompassed him from all directions.

Rapidly, Ludwig sank deeper and deeper into its depths until he could no longer remember what he missed.