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     "I still don't get why you're always doing this." Veronique murmured, leaning across the counter to reach for the knife. Matthews couldn't help but steal a glance at the way his back arched and his leg slightly raised, but caught himself just as his friend looked back at him.

     "It's not everyday I cut carrots, I don't know what you're talking about." Matt nonchalantly replied, chopping away and pointedly ignoring Veronique's unamused expression.

     "I was not referring to this." he stated with a huff, gesturing to the vegetables. "I was referring to how you always get yourself in my troubles just to... hell if I even know the reason!"

     Matthews raised the cutting board above the big pot and slid the carrot slices with his knife, each one plopping into the boiling water next to the other suffering vegetables.

     "It's what friends do."

     Veronique shook his head, grabbing an onion. "No. When in trouble, friends would just point at the other in order to not get the blame. After whoever ends up guilty receives the punishment, the friends would beat each other make up." he lectured, starting to peel off the onion.

     "Does that mean I'm not a good friend?"

     "You're too much of a good friend!"

     The older man looked down at his friend, eyebrows lowering in confusion. "Is that a bad thing?"

     Matthews placed his hand on the counter and propped himself on it, head tilted curiously as he considered his friend's silence. Veronique simply scowled at the almost naked onion, not returning his gaze.

     After a few moments of silence, Matt moved his eyes away and straightened up, picking a wooden spoon and mixing the contents of the pot around.

     "You want me off your back." he deduced.

     "No! Friend, you should know better!" Veronique exclaimed incredulously, raising a hand to tug at the man's striped shirt upon receiving no reaction. "Mattie! What I meant was- it's simply unfair to you, having to receive punishment for no reason."

     "Stop beating around the bush. We've been glued to each other ever since we met, I understand you want some space away from me."

     Whatever reaction he expected from his friend, a tomato wasn't one of them. Half of the vegetable hit him in the shoulder, and its other half hit him in the chest the moment he turned towards Veronique incredulously.

     Matthews could only gasp and tug at his shirt, gazing at the stains dumbfounded. After a few huffs of confusion, he raised his arms, waving them around. "Why would you do that!"

     Veronique glared at him and turned to stab the onion with his knife before starting to slice it. "Because you're speaking nonsense. That, and I'd rather have you angry than sad."

     The taller man gaped at that with a hint of a smile. "Why is that?" he asked, taking off his shirt and wiping the sauce off his chest with it.

     "Because a person like you shouldn't know sadness." Veronique answered, wiping at his eyes which were starting to tear up because of the onion.

     "Why?"

     Veronique growled frustrated at that, turning around and pointing the knife at him. "Will you stop the questioning, or must I cut your tongue?"

     Matthews was about to laugh and reply with something challenging, but his throat ceased to work as he saw his friend's widen eyes trail up and down his torso. Suddenly, he felt insecure for some reason, mentally running over each feature he just exposed- bruises from childhood fights, the small mole he had on the left of his chest, his dark happy trail standing in contrast with his pale skin...

     He, for some reason, felt self-conscious about all of those as his friend openly stared at him, but he kept a casual posture, shoulders slightly hunched and waist forward.

     "I never got how you managed to get those muscles." Veronique murmured jealously, returning to his job.

     Matthews could only be glad at the change of subject, so he ran a hand through his hair- in serious need of a cut- and leaned on the counter, absent-mindedly spinning the wooden spoon in the pot. "Oh, you know. I like to keep in shape for the ladies." he joked, despite rarely getting involved in intercourse with them. "That, and the chores I do for money."

     Veronique hummed. "I don't even get why you try and gain money. It's not like you can use them in the ship."

     "No." Matthews agreed, walking to his friend as he rubbed his eyes, also teary from the onion. "I use them whenever the ship lands, to buy you gifts."

     The shorter scoffed at that, walking past him to slide the slices in the soup. "There it goes again. Must you treat me like a princess?"

     "Well you don't look far from one..." Matt trailed off, eyeing his long, slim legs and petite upper body.

     Veronique slammed the cutting board on the counter, turning to glare at him, hands on hips. "Take that back!"

     "Convince me." he dared, watching pleased as the shorter man reached his fingers to the zipper of his hoodie. It was quite a nice turn of events, he decided as his friend slid the clothing off, poking at his six pack.

     "See this?"

     Matthews could only chuckle, but his eyes didn't join as they were busy absorbing the sight. His fingers itched to rub the sharp hip bones his friend presented, then trail up his skinny waist, hop along the visible ribs one by one, then slide down his collar bones and into the gap.

     "You call those muscles?" he teased, taking the opportunity to gaze at his abs, but sneaking glances at his v-line.

     "Don't be a jerk! How about we work out together so I can stop looking like a puss."

     "No." Matt deadpanned, despite secretly enjoying the idea of them sweating together. Brushing off the thought, he walked up to him and allowed his hand to start the route they craved. Veronique jumped at the coldness of his hands but kept still as Matt's two fingers walked up his ribs in a legs motion. "It wouldn't look good on you. I like you just fine."

     Veronique's bloodshot eyes scowled at that. "You might like me just fine, but that's because you're a guy. No girl would be attracted by this."

     Matt hummed, gaze trailing behind the finger he was sliding down the defined collar bone. "Since when are you interested in getting that kind of attention?" he asked curiously, letting the tip of finger finally sink in the gap between the collar bones, a perfect fit- as if it was destined to be there.

     "What is that supposed to mean? A man has his needs- as you always say whenever leaving one of the girls' bedrooms."

     "Yes, well, I am an adult at my 18. You're too young for that kind of shenanigan." Matt tried to reason.

     "Pfft! You've been doing the nasty since 15!" Veronique argued back, stepping to him to curiously poke at his muscles, a scowl on his face as he seized him up.

     Matthews laughed more than he should have, nervous more than anything as his friend's touch wandered up his torso. Before he got to touch his chest, he gripped his wrist and sucked his lips in, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose.

     Veronique saw nothing weird or uncomfortable in him and his friend touching another half naked, seeing as by that point they were close enough to be considered brothers. Which was as relieving as it was depressing for Matthews.

     How did he get in such situation again?

     Before he got to tease him on his choice of words, another voice interrupted, making them freeze in their position- which was rather misleading, with Veronique's bloodshot eyes from the onion, his hand pinned on Matt's body, which was as revealed as his.

     The cook lady scowled between the two of them for a couple moments, then simply arranged her apron and left with determined stomps.

 

     Matthews shifted uncomfortably, the tomato stain on his shirt wet and slimy against his skin. He kept his arms behind his back in respect, as opposed to Veronique, who had them crossed.

     Mr. Grimerson was on his boss chair, sipping at a glass of wine thoughtfully, a scowl giving away the nature of his thoughts. After taking a last sip, he licked his lips, dimples showing as he let out a 'tsk' and placed the glass on his desk.

     "It's not that I have something against homosexuality. I like to believe the people in this ship are intelligent enough to be open-minded about such matters, so I suppose you won't encounter any hate concerning that."

     Veronique opened his mouth to protest, but Matthews nudged him, knowing too well the principal disliked being interrupted.

     "What is bothering me is the idea of pedophilia." he stated, tilting his head with a frown Matthews's way, who could only gape at that. "I can simply not accept anything against law to unfold in my orphanage."

     "Sir, this is but a mere misunderstanding. We were just... sizing each other up." Matt justified lamely, trying to keep his composure.

     "Of course you were." the man chuckled sarcastically, standing up and adjusting his dress vest. "I'm afraid I have known you two long enough to tell you are curiously close to another. I cannot take my chances. Besides, you were supposed to be cooking as a punishment for stealing from the kitchen, yet you went ahead and..." he trailed off, eyeing the stain on Matt's shirt with a raised eyebrow. "That."

     Veronique watched the man nervously, but kept his rebellious posture as Grimerson made his way around the desk to stand in front of them, scowling from one to the other.

     "I found just the solution. It will manage to loosen the intimate comfort between you two, and at the same time I won't have to lay belt on Matthews- the modest age gap between us would make it rather odd."

     For that much Matt was thankful. Indeed , the principal was currently only 35. His brother- the previous owner of the orphanage- had died rather early, which left the running of the ship on Grimerson's shoulders when he was only 19. Still, he was a man more than clever and handled the position just well, along with his older cousin Mr. Quin, to this day.

     Still, his explanation offered the two men no clue. A way to loosen the bond between them through punishment, while not harming Matthews?

     They didn't have much time to analyze it, though, because the next thing they knew, Bogeyman was reaching to the belt sustaining Matt's dark green pants, handling the buckle.

     "What in the hell!" he exclaimed, his arms going from behind his back to his sides as he tried to stop him. However, he couldn't find it in him to disrespect the man by swatting his hands away.

     "Language, Matthews." the principal nonchalantly scolded, swiftly sliding the belt from the loops. Then, he simply grabbed the man's wrist and raised it, placing the leather belt in his hand.

     Matt could only alternate a confused glare between the thing and Grimerson, unwilling to jump to the obvious conclusion. Still, it was inevitable.

     "Whip him."

     "No."

     Mr. Grimerson's forehead smoothened as he offered a blank look, as menacing as ever. "With each occasion you talk back to me, five more blows will add to the initial eight."

     "This is just sick!"

     "That would make it eighteen."

     Matthews clenched his fists. "What! Why would you add ten!"

     "There goes the eighteenth." Bogeyman smiled victoriously at having managed to fool him into talking back twice. Matthews opened his mouth again, but he reconsidered the situation and set on clenching his jaw and looking at Veronique to see the way he was handling the events.

     The boy was looking away, cheeks blushing in shame, but he was scowling as deeply as Matthews. The older friend uneasily eyed the teenager's stockings, gaze lingering on his exposed thighs.

     Eighteen was an outrageous number of whips, not that they hadn't received more, and the shaking of Veronique's fists gave away his dread. Shame, anger and fear.

     "Pup." The principal demanded, which was all it took for the black haired teenager to make his way to the desktop and bend over it, burying his face in his crossed arms. Matthews gulped dryly at that, the buckle of the belt in his fist giving away his shaking through the clings it made.

     Bogeyman tugged Veronique's briefs down, and Matt looked away as soon as the skin was revealed, breathing through his nose. There was no way he would do such thing.

     He didn't move his gaze as a hand was placed on his back, leading him to his friend, whose shoulders were raised in shame, as if he was trying to hide his existence.

     Mr. Grimerson took Matthews's wrist and placed his hand on Veronique's lower back, pinning it there as he tried to snatch it away. He then offered a stern glare his way, putting an end to all of his actions.

     "Now, the position is crucial." he lectured, taking his hand back once he trusted Matt's would remain there. "The hand there has the purpose of consolation, letting him know you're with him through the whole suffering. It also serves as a reminder of who is in charge, as he has no choice but to surrender under your dominance." he continued, raising Veronique's hoodie further up as it was about to slide down his back.

     "The whipping." he stated, moving away from the two and watching the scenery indifferently. "It is not the movement of the arm that does the trick, but the mere twitch of wrist. Short, determined but gentle- the belt does half the job by itself, no need to add strength into the blow."

     Matthews shook his head, his pointer rubbing up and down his friend's spine. "This is just wrong! I can't- I won't!"

     "Would that make it thirty-three?"

     "No! God, no!" Matt spat frustrated the moment Veronique winced. His friend then raised his head from between his arms, turning it to peek from behind his shoulder, his turquoise eyes looking almost assuring as they glanced at Matthews, as if it wasn't him that needed the consolation.

     The young adult raised his arm, the belt feeling n times heavier than it did a few minutes ago, its clinging loud and teasing in the anticipating silence. Each time he'd try and swing it, his muscles would clench on their own, the hand on his friend's lower back lightly scratching at the skin nervously.

     "Do it." Grimerson monotonously ordered.

     Matthews choked out some air and brought the belt down, but his arm experienced a wave of shudders, stopping the movement just at the last second, causing the belt to lightly brush the skin with the softest of sounds.

     Despite that, Veronique flinched, out of nervousness more than anything, and started rubbing his toes against each other. Matthews looked away from the sight, biting the belt as he foresaw the principal's reaction.

     "Matthews."

     He clenched his teeth around the leather for a couple seconds, trying to restrain his rage, and then released the belt from his mouth, placing his hand on Veronique's lower back.

     Closing his eyes, he raised his arm once again, only peeking now and then to assure it would land right. With a last shaky sigh, he got his arm to move and then bent his wrist, jumping as violently as Veronique the moment it kissed his white butt cheek with a loud slap. The way a woman's kiss would leave a smudge of red rouge behind, the belt's left a red stripe, getting hotter with each second passing.

     Suddenly, the clinging of the buckle stopped, along with the shaking of his arm and the sound of his breathing. Matthews simply eyed the stripe, it's bright colour letting everything else fade into dullness.

     And, before he even got to comprehend his intention, Matt whipped him again, the loud slap causing a long shudder to impale his entire body, even more so as Veronique gasped, shifting as much as Matt's hand allowed.

     Another blow followed loudly, this time on the other cheek, both friends equally surprised. Matthews didn't catch himself in time to suppress an awed huff, neither did Veronique restrain from arching his back invitingly.

     At the back of his head, Matt could tell the situation was going entirely different from what the principal had planned, and most certainly noticed the familiar feeling in his gut that meant no good. Still, that was at the back of his head, so without another thought he whipped him once again.

     "Mattie-" Veronique exclaimed in his arms, cutting short what almost sounded like a plea with a gasp.

     Before the young adult got to raise his arm again, Mr. Grimerson's furious voice interrupted. "How dare you enjoy this." is what he spat, the reminder of his presence bringing Matthews back to his senses.

     He turned to watch the man as he walked to him with a glare, and couldn't move as he snatched the leather strap from his hand. Bogeyman then turned his head 90 degrees and lowered it to look at Veronique, defined jaw clenched and lips a thin line.

     His hand gripped the teenager's hip, his other one raising behind him, body stretching at its finest under the black shirt he wore with a brown vest. The striped tie, his suit, his glare and posture, all together created the perfect materialization of dominance, awakening a jealousy in Matthews's guts.

     However, as the young adult got to focus on the angle of his arm and the strong grip on the leather, he was suddenly struck with the knowledge of how intense he planned the blow to be. He was certain the wrist would do more than a gentle twitch.

     It was second nature to jump head first into protecting his friend, figuratively up until that specific point, when it was just what he did. He didn't even consider it, he just limply moved his body in the way, and the next thing he knew, half of his face completely died.

     His head snapped with the blow, his body following its movement, and he managed to catch himself on the desk just as he was about to fall.

     Matthews's left cheek felt as if replaced by numb nothing, and as he focused to make the floor stop moving, he vaguely wondered if his skin was even there.

     He looked at his hand and moved his shaky fingers as to make sure they were working, and hesitantly brought them to his face to ghostly touch his skin. All it took was the softest of brushes, and a fierce trail of pain followed the tip of his finger like a line of fire, causing him to faintly gasp.

     It would be only deducible that his lip would hit a tooth from the impact, which is what explained the feeling that something was leaking down his chin. After touching it, he looked at his hand to see the dark red of his blood staining his fingers.

     As if wanting to make sure, he tried to bring his other hand to his lip and check again, but forgot that said hand was what was propping him on the desk in the first place.

     If the whip to his face hadn't been enough to make him unconscious, the impact of his head hitting the floor sure was.

 

     Matthews only knew one room of that orphanage to be as bright as the ceiling he was watching. The nurse room.

     As he blinked a couple of times, he felt something on the left side of his face restrain his skin from moving. It was a cold compress, the wet towel pinned against his injury with the help of plasters. His lip was tasting funny, but the bleeding had stopped.

     Slowly, he slid into a sitting position, closing his eyes against the bright light that was making his headache worse, and then squinted them open to look at the armchair next to his bed wearily.

     However, he was pleasantly surprised when he didn't face Veronique -he found himself dreading to meet him, since it was bond to be an uncomfortable situation- or Bogeyman -for obvious reasons-.

     Instead, there lay William, one of his legs bent on the armrest, his other one stretched out. His neck was on the other armrest, half closed eyes distantly gazing into the ceiling as his fingers limply fumbled with his striped scarf.

     Matthews froze in his position, not wishing to distract him in order to watch amused as his eyelids seemed to get heavier and heavier until they eventually closed, at the same time his hands falling flat on his chest. As soon as his head started wobbling, he opened his eyes with a sniff.

     Upon seeing Matthews awake, he jumped in a sitting position and rolled the armchair closer to his bed, face openly expressive as it displayed his genuine concern.

     "I'm sorry, how long have I been out?" he excused himself, at which Matt offered half a smile.

     "Precisely four seconds." he assured him, at which William offered a chuckle, rubbing his palms up and down his face to wipe any sleep away. After doing so, though, he kept his hands there, blocking view on his expression.

     Matthews sat up straighter, leaning towards him curiously but hesitant. "William?"

     His friend didn't respond or move, at which Matt was genuinely dumbfounded. His hunched posture and the shaking of his hands unnerved him profoundly- Matthews would in no way know how to react if Will, from all people, was to cry in front of him.

     However, the moment his friend let his arms fall, it seemed his eyes were dry, as well as his cheeks, at which Matt could only sigh in relief.

     "I was with Oliver..." Will began in a small voice, uncharacteristic of him. He placed his thumbnail on his lower teeth as he continued speaking. "We were just leaving the room and we saw the male nurse carry you with Veronique on his trail, and..." he trailed off, moving his eyes to Matthews's chest.

     The young adult followed his gaze to see the red stain on his shirt, left by the tomato Veronique threw at him back in the kitchen. "And I caught glimpse of the blood on your shirt and your chin and you were unconscious and-"

     "William, please calm down." Matthews assured him, snatching his thumb away from his mouth since he'd already nibbled enough of the nail, having planned to go even deeper. "It's just tomato on my shirt, I only bit my lip, and it was my fault I fainted." he explained, rubbing his wrist soothingly as he restrained a smile.

     Will's eyes widened at that, as opposed to his mouth which closed, cheeks turning red.

     And there it was, Matthews concluded in his state- affected by the painkillers. He vaguely noticed how that colour had stained each one of his group of friends- Veronique's bottom, Matthews's lip, and eventually William's cheeks.

     Chuckling tiredly at the thought, he leaned closer to Will to rest his forehead against his, and he could almost feel his headache fade at the contact.

     "What happened?" his friend finally asked, his expression finally turning familiar, into demanding.

     Matthews smiled at that and stole a peck, stretching it for a few seconds as to let his lips transmit a silent reassuring, and then pulled back, doing the same with his hand -which at some point had found its way to Will's hair without Matt's knowing-. Then, the young adult leaned against the pillow propped on the headboard and sighed.

     "That's another story for another day." he murmured, grinning teasingly as wide as his injured lip permitted. "So, what were you and Oliver doing in our room, hmm?"

     William glared nonchalantly upon that. "I understand you need rest and won't bother to inform me on the happenings, but I expect explanation later, and will not let you change the subject as you just did."

     Matt could only relax now that his friend was back to his self, but a few matters were still concerning him.

     "Where is Veronique?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

     William darted a look at a window, and as Matt followed his gaze he noticed it was night time- which he hadn't realized because of the annoyingly bright light bulb of the room.

     Squinting, he looked at the wall to his left and stretched his arm to reach for the switch, turning the obnoxious light off and blinking to adjust to the darkness.

     His friend seemed affected by the decision as he started fumbling with his scarf, looking around uneasily. "Veronique insisted on staying, but he kept falling asleep and he didn't wish to do so. Eventually, Oliver convinced him into go to bed, and he's now walking him to his room. He'll be back soon." he spoke, the last part sounding almost hopeful.

     Matthews only then remembered his friend's fear of darkness and hurried to ask: "Do you want me to turn the lights on? It's just, they would give me a headache even without the current injury."

     "No, don't worry." Will assured him, but got up from his seat and scooted next to Matthews nonetheless, at which the young adult hummed amused.

     "You never did tell me why you're so afraid of darkness, you know." he said, pulling the blanket over both of them and shifting a bit until he managed to place his head on Will's shoulder, listening as he breathed through his nose.

     "That's another story for another day." he replied as he heard steps approaching the room, and placed his head on top of Matt's just as the door opened, deducing it would be Oliver.

     Only it wasn't.

 

     Matthews uncomfortably played with the blanket, every now and then sneaking a glance at the person in the armchair.

     The darkness made everything that more awkward, but even he had to admit that the moonlight coming from the window nicely contoured half of the man's features, the other one left in darkness.

     Mr. Grimerson was sitting with his elbow on the armrest, pointer pressed against his temple and thumb propping his jaw. His other hand was on the second armrest, and his ankle casually placed on his knee.

     Matt moved his gaze away, deciding to let the man to his thinking, considering he looked as if he was having an internal battle.

     However, as he softly cleared his throat, Matthews offered him full attention, not wanting to disrespect the man.

     "You know, my ways of discipline... Despite the fact many won't understand or approve of them, they are what made it so that every person that left this orphanage grew to be respecting and respectable." he spoke, starting to rub at his temple as his eyes closed.

     Matthews licked his lips and looked away, but moved his gaze back as he heard him sigh.

     "Despite all that..." he trailed off. His eyes, as black as the sky outside, moved on Matt's lip, and he fidgeted uncomfortably before he deduced it was the cut the man was interested in. "Despite all that, not once in my position as a principal did I cause one of my orphans to bleed."    

     He sounded disappointed and possessive as he spoke, the frown never leaving his handsome face.

      "I'm sorry, Matthews."

     The young adult's lips parted at that, but he had no idea as to what response he could offer, so he was left staring at him less than cleverly.

     However, when Mr. Grimerson stood up with that, well, grim expression, Matt stretched his arm to reach for his sleeve, but caught himself before touching him, which wouldn't be decent.

     "Sir." he said with an even voice, its husky sound reminding him that he was no longer a kid under the man's glare, but officially an adult that could dare address him without given permission.

     The principal put a stop to pace at the end of his bed, and turned around, his facial expression not changing in the least.

     Matt scratched absent-mindedly the spot next to his towel and then thought twice about it and let his hand fall on his lap next to the other.

     "I forgive you." he shrugged, hoping it didn't sound as forced as it was. The actual subject of their conversation was the harm he did to Matthews, for which he would forgive the man since it wasn't intentional. For what he made him do to Veronique, though, he couldn't forgive him since the man didn't even apologize for it.

     The principal considered him for a few moments of silence, eyebrows raising from the glare aimed at himself to a silent question aimed at Matthews. Then, he hummed shortly and lowered his gaze to the bed, placing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

     "I envy you for that."

 

Sorry for not uploading. School happened yesterday... And the days before I just kept getting distracted. Hm... hope 8 pages made up for it :D

Now that school is going on, I don't know about updates. Surely there will not be a week passing without a chapter (hopefully) so just, ya know. Hang in there. 

And comment :Y that always fastens the process because people asking for updates make me feel guilty all day e'rday if I'm not writing.

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