Hello everybody. We are about to leave Switzerland, and off to greener pastures. Thank you to NonfunctioningAdultHuman for your review. This chapter, it's more Kai torment than Kai torture. I hope that will still satisfy the sadists amongst you.

-x-x-x-

With all due respect. Son, you're a slut!

With the next stage of the tournament around the corner, we got ready to leave Switzerland.

"Finally." Wyatt remarked. "About time we escape this chocolate gulag."

He never told me what went down the last time he saw his parents, but I could infer from his mood that it did not go well. I made a few attempts to cheer him up and cuddle him, but he remained distant. I could tell the smile he gave me was forced. He kept quiet throughout the ride to the airport and the subsequent flight. Not even reacting when I tried to hold his hand in mine.

I cloud of misery hung over all of us. Even Dad was no longer pretending to be his cheerful self. He was being awfully quiet, which made me feel uneasy. I was still angry with him so it's not like I made any effort to talk to him, but I got the feeling he would not even want me to. I felt so very alone.

Johnny made some comments about me being a child for bringing my father along. I did not even have the energy to come up with a sassy come-back. It worked out in my favour. He dropped the topic when I was not giving him the response he desired, instead mocking me for walking funny.

"Truth be told, I expected you to be the man in the relationship."

"What do you mean?"

"Wyatt must have done a number on you."

The truth was worse than his assumption, so I let him keep believing that.

"Jeez. Was it that bad? You two look even more pitiful than Ricky and Bryce. Wish I had a music box cause the only thing missing from this scene is an eerie lullaby." He said observantly.

Those two were on a whole other level. Their night at the honeymoon suite had been a bust of apocalyptic proportions and they were making no efforts to hide it. They were not even sitting together. Enrique was sharing a bench with Oliver, trying to drag him into a half-hearted conversation about the flight attendant's ass, while Bryce, seated a few rows ahead of him, was pretending to be absorbed in a book, that I had yet to see him turn a single page of. He occasionally turned his head though, to glare at his casanova.

I made another attempt to connect with Wyatt, gently laying my head on his shoulder. He did not even look up from his Gameboy. Having become accustomed to the luxury of being sought after, I had no experience being the chaser. Worries that he had grown tired of me had begun to creep up and I had no means of knowing if I had reason to be concerned. There was no baseline that I could refer to. The more rejected I felt, the more pathetic and needy I got. I even asked what game he was playing but he did not hear me through his headphones, making me look like a lovesick fool in front of Johnny who was observing us closely.

I was longing for my life before any of this, wanting nothing more than to hang out with the Bladebreakers. Laughing and messing about. How I missed them. There was no way they would take me back now. I could not leave them for greener pastures and then crawl back begging for forgiveness. They deserved better. It hurt, knowing I had willingly given that up in favour of this team, that had less cohesion than two negative poles of a magnets forcefully jammed together.

No, I had not done this for the Majestics. I had done it for Wyatt, who despite verbally assuring me he loved me, no longer acted like he did.

I had never seen him tire of Enrique the way he did of me. The thought that I was nothing more than a stepping stone, keeping him from his true love had occurred to me more than once. I feared I would end as a footnote in their relationship. Become that part of the retelling of their love story where one of them got cold feet and had a fling with some unimportant NPC.

"Remember that time you went off and married that grumpy Beyblader, honey?"

"Don't know what had gotten into me. Thank goodness, I found my way back to true North."

If it had not been for my sore bumhole I would have sunk even further and offered him to join the Mile High club. What if the accident had been a divine intervention saving me from losing my virginity to him? I had never placed much value on my purity. Virginity was nothing but this pesky hurdle I wanted to overcome to join society as a functional, normal being. Someone deemed worthy enough of love, to be fucked. My bar was not very high, so the awareness of my shortcoming hurt me more than it should.

Right now, I felt utterly undesired.

The only bright light on the horizon, was that once we got to Belgrade, we would finally share a hotel room, all on our own. I could only hope that being stuck together would reinfuse our relationship with passion, rather than blow it up for good, like for Bryce and Enrique.

Someone scuffled my hair, for a hopeful moment I believed it to be Wyatt, but he still sat beside me motionless, absorbed in his stupid game. I turned around and looked up at my dad's woeful face.

"I'm going to stretch my legs. Want to come with me?"

There was not much exercise to be had, walking the length of the private jet, but I agreed anyway. I needed to get out of this headspace. If I could not fix my relationship with Wyatt, maybe I could at least clear the air with my father. I could use some parental guidance right now.

We merely walked to the galley located in the next compartment. Dad immediately plundered the minibar, taking a beer for himself and handing me an orange soda.

"Is it still your favourite?"

I nodded, delighted that he remembered.

"Did you know the Nazis invented it?"

I frowned.

"That can't be right."

"True story."

"So what? Not like they gassed their prisoners with Fanta. Why are you trying to ruin my enjoyment of it?"

He held up both arms in mock defence.

"Chill out. I was just trying to lighten the mood."

"Yeah, cause that's what Nazis are remembered for. Light-hearted anecdotes."

"Sure, whatever. You look deflated, Kiki. And since I'm responsible, I should at least try to fix it."

"Don't flatter yourself. This is not all on you."

"Is that so?"

He was both encouraging me to talk and giving me an out if I rather not. As much as I hated to admit it, I could actually benefit from his advice.

"I get the feeling Wyatt no longer wants me. He just seems so much happier whenever he is around Enrique. I think I'm holding him back."

"He has a lot on his mind right now. I spoke with his father the other day, and he is still very angry with him. It will take Wyatt some time to come to terms with everything that has happened. From what I hear, it's been boiling up for a while now. Even though he made the decision to distance himself from his parents, he will still be second guessing himself. The best you can do is to support him and don't give him further headache by making it about your insecurities. I mean this in the kindest way possible: It's not about you."

"Ouch, thanks."

"It's a good thing. Means you're not to blame for his gloomy mood."

"You would see it that way."

He shrugged. "Your moment will come soon enough. Enjoy the lack of responsibility."

"It's just everything. He is acting so different now."

"I'm guessing that at school you were the centre of his attention. That was not going to last forever. Life gets in the way. Look at it as more of a partnership. You work through things together."

But Wyatt did not want my help.

"I have tried. He does respond to it. I wish I could at least take care of his sexual needs. If we could finally do it, that would show him I'm all in."

Dad sighed.

"I was hoping I cut put this conversation off for another while, but Christ, you need it. Sex is not the fix all that you think it is. It's just sex. It's not even that great most of the time. I don't think you are anywhere near ready to lose your virginity. You're not being responsible about it at all."

"You're one to talk. You literally had me when you were my age. Wyatt and I can't make a baby. What consequences are there?"

"There are more things about sex you can regret. If it's not right, it can leave you with trauma and you might never grow to enjoy it. I was pressured into it by my peers and my partner. It left me with some very complex issues. You are the only good that came of it. I had some low points, and if it wasn't for you, I would not have had the motivation to push through."

He had never struck me as the depressed type that would hold on to anguish. I was reminded of the rumours about his mental state. There was more to them than I was willing to admit. All those times he had disappeared from my life for months, or even years, I had assumed he was off having fun somewhere. What if he had been hiding from me, not wanting me to see him in his most pathetic state?

"Papa, what do you mean?"

He laughed awkwardly and ruffled my hair again. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

He was being sarcastic, I had yet to fix my bangs. Purple shampoo had gotten rid of the yellow colour, leaving them crisp white. I looked as though I had wrestled a skunk and amateurishly sewn it into an ushanka hat. It was not a style I intended to rock, but needless to say I was a bit intimidated by bleach for now.

"It might stop me from repeating your mistakes if you were more descriptive." I said.

"For one, it's not going to do your reputation any good. Of course, there are more important things in life, but appearances matter, and rumours have a bad habit of sticking. People who were more sexually adventurous than me looked down on me for being a teen dad. They still do. Even after they themselves became parents."

There was truth in that. Wyatt's parents had stuck up their noses whenever they spoke about him.

"We are being careful."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not sure how to tell you this son, but you've been acting a little slutty. You make "Girls gone wild" look like a prayer compilation."

That topped the list of things I never wanted to hear my father say.

I scoffed. "Only because we are both men. If Wyatt was a girl people would be congratulating me."

"Yes, precisely because you are both men. Straight men get praised for scoring. Women and gay men get shamed for putting out. It is not right but that is how society works. Not saying you need to bow down to them, just be aware."

"I never expected you to start shaming me." I said bitterly, fighting to keep a straight face.

Sure, I had been acting out, but I was exploring my sexuality in a fun and liberating way. Up until now I had not attached any negative feelings to it, aside from a little drunk regret. But that was normal, at least I wanted to believe it was. My own father seeing me as nothing but a penny slot was too much.

"I did not realise he is two years older than you." Dad said hesitantly. "Two years might not seem like a lot to you know but at that age there is a large gap in maturity and experience."

"It's not like he is some sex god."

"No. He is something even more threatening. An adult man."

I couldn't believe this. Where was this coming from all of the sudden? Since when was he not cool with Wyatt? The blowjob probably did it. But it wasn't fair that he hated Wyatt for it when I had been the one to initiate it. I tried to explain it, but he would not listen.

"What made you feel you had to give oral sex?"

"Just something his dumb friend said."

"His adult friend with the adult expectations?"

Shit. He had a point. If Enrique didn't make me feel insecure about being a virgin, I wouldn't have felt obligated to give Wyatt head. I should have had no reason to feel insecure as I was supposed to be lagging two years behind them anyway.

Dad rested his hand on my shoulder.

"Right now, you are basing your identity around pornography and stereotypes. Being gay has nothing to do with bathroom blowjobs or bleached buttholes, it's about love. Do you want to know how I could tell what you were when you were only a kid."

"It's the way I dressed, right?"

He shrugged that off. "Nah, clothes have nothing to do with it. We moved you around a lot. Of course, you were not going to have a culturally consistent style."

"Then enlighten me." I challenged him.

"Do you remember the time you used to live with me in Wageningen?"

I shook my head. The name sounded familiar, but I refused to make this easy on him.

"I can't blame you. That town was lame."

"When was that?" I asked.

"Back when I convinced my father to let me study abroad in the Netherlands. He refused to let me take you to live in a party town, so he enrolled me in this an agricultural university in a village in the middle of nowhere. He pulled me out after a semester when he found out I used the knowledge I acquired from my plant science classes to cultivate weed."

No surprise there.

"I remember going to Amsterdam." I conceded.

"That's true, we went to visit all the large cities."

"You wouldn't share your brownie with me." I said accusingly.

"I think we both know why."

"You are under the impression I should be thanking you for not drugging me, but you forget you were getting high while you were supposed to be supervising me."

"Oh, I was high 90% of your childhood." He admitted. "Sorry?"

I sighed. "No big deal, I honestly expected weed to be a little more hardcore." Frankly, I was disappointed in its potency. Having snorted molly made me feel like a licensed club rat.

"Anyway, Wageningen had this large square surrounding the church and town hall. Every Saturday morning there would be a farmers' market. One day while we were out getting food, we spotted this same-sex couple coming out of the building. I decided it would be a good teaching moment, so I explained to you that they had just gotten married. You stared at me with that iconic "no shit, I'm not stupid." look of yours. It did not even strike you as odd that two men could be in love with each other. Instead, you asked me if all parents need to get married in order to have children. So, I explained to you that no, and that I had never been wed. Then you asked me why I didn't marry your other Daddy. I believed you were referring to your grandfather, so I was forced to explain the concept of incest to you. But that wasn't it. You rolled your eyes at you and said "No, not grandpa, I'm talking about my other Daddy." I was a bit surprised by that, but you kept on insisting "You told me it takes two to make a baby. Were you lying?". Then I told you that you did not have two Dads, you had a Mommy. And your response was "No wonder you didn't get married, girls are stupid.". You were just the cutest little sexist."

"Charming."

"It isn't unusual for boys that age. I thought it might be something you would outgrow. But I made my peace with it in case you didn't."

There wasn't anything special about him, he had simply had more time to get used to the idea than Wyatt and Bryce's parents.

"Was it hard on you? Were you disappointed in me?"

"Of course not. I was in the music program until your grandfather made me change schools. I was blessed to grow up surrounded by talented gay people who I had the deepest respect for."

"Wasn't Wyatt's dad in the same program?"

What had made him turn out so prejudiced then?

"We attended the same boarding school, but he was in the management group, where kids are trained to run their own business or take over their parent's legacy. Looking back, I'm surprised your grandfather didn't enrol me in that one, but even a grump like him must have believed in my talent at some point."

"Do you resent me for having to leave it?"

It had always confused me why he had been pulled out. My grandfather had implied it was due to the scandal, but like Mr Smithwright had said, teen Dads were hardly given the same treatment as teen Moms.

"No, not at all. I could have stuck with music, I just didn't want to. It's a long story."

"Tell me. It had to do with me, or am I wrong?"

He smiled sadly. "It does but you are not to blame. It's more to do how everyone around me reacted when they learned I got your mother pregnant. I became jaded and felt betrayed by the music world."

Why did I get the sense that everything came back to my mother? Was she the key to all of this? I wanted to press my father further, but he seemed so disheartened, I could not bring myself to do so. Part of me felt like I was the parent, compromising my own needs to make him feel better. I realised that it was a major part of growing up.

Talking to him had made me feel better, I was still disappointed he would not tell me the full truth, but I was no longer angry. It became clear that he needed time. Whatever had happened had left a scar and pressuring him would only slow the healing process. Still, I hoped he would get into a more stable headspace soon, because I did not know how much longer I could hold out.

I took his advice to heart and brought Wyatt a soda. Red bull, his favourite. It was not enough to get him to talk or take his eyes off the game for more than a second, but he let me put my arm around him and even snuggled into my shoulder. Be patient, I told myself. It was one of my virtues, yet it was harder to resist the urge to act now than it had ever been during any of my beybattles.