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     And that is how he got into streetball.

     And it wasn't any gentler concerning floors.

    In fact, the next times he'd find himself on his butt were on rough cement with small pebbles scraping the skin of his palms and bruises dragging his face down.

     But it was of another reason. They all tended to curse and tease and mock a lot, and it went down to this many times. But at least it was all honest, and Verger simply knew that no matter what, the guys would stick to him to the end. Even if they'd punch him before admitting it, the love was all around.

     "My mom is not a prostitute. She does that shit for free!" Troy pointed at him threateningly, his blond strands sticking to his sweaty face.

     "My bad." Verger laughed tiredly, feeling his face with a wince. He didn't know Tory all that well, people just came and went, replacing others and being replaced in turn. Because most quit at some point, having to face real life and all of that responsibility thing.

     But Verger had dedicated himself to this fully. Two years ago, after quitting basketball and graduating, he pooped on his degree and got on earning a living from basket. They held games after games around there, and so it wasn't that hard on him as long as he won- which he did most of the times, considering the sport was his food and water.

     It was funny, that thing about being careful what you wish for because it may happen. He wished to live on basketball, never mentioned which sort or what it took or anything, and so life went 'well okay then' and slapped him with this.

      And this was tough.

     Because this was the basketball of Viscount street. And the street's name was known for a reason.

     All street sports were taken to the extreme. Low extreme.

     Streetfights had no rules, streetball had no referee, streetdance had no decency, streetrace had no paramedics, it was all a mess. It had been hard adjusting to it, but Verger liked it. It was all so fucked up that merely being gay made him one of the most normal people around.

     Troy, for example, was a full-time Satanist, and Verger came to that conclusion when the man strolled on their court and played with a goat head instead of a basketball. He handled actual basketballs well, though he didn't join too many games since he was busy doing... stuff.

     Chuck, another example, was a drug addict, and not the Bob Marley pothead sort of guy. His mood was one polar or the other, there was no in between: he would either grin through the entire game with twitches of the head and occasional spasms that sent the ball out of the entirety of the court (surrounded by tall chain link fence), either silently stare at you deadpan in the eyes like one of those paintings of which eyes follow you everywhere in the room.

     Adolf carried pocket knives with him.

     Lastly, Sand. He's one of the players that stuck around the longest, Verger knew him since he started. The man had no sense of humor. It wasn't just that, he simply didn't get jokes and wouldn't pull one for the life of him and his lips never moved an inch unless it was for talking. Other than that, he acted normal in Verger's book, if not a little sociopathic. But Verger's definition of normal had long since changed.

     "I... I think I'm good for today..." Verger murmured, gripping his jaw to maybe keep it in place.

     "And don't come back!" Troy kicked some dust on him, which Verger was far too strained to dodge.

     "I'll come on your back instead." Verge maturely joked with a big satisfied grin at his own joke. Though it was shaky with the bust lip.

     The blond flipped him off and went back to the eight people on the court, letting Verger handle himself.

     With a hand on a knee and the other on the ground, he managed to push himself up in a 'I'm about to have diarrhea' position. He slowly limped his way to the gate, supporting himself on the fence with rustles to accompany each step he took.

     Once outside the court and onto the wide alleyway, he looked left and right. Viscount Street was basically this labyrinth of dark creepy alleyways surrounding dark creepy apartment complexes occupied by dark creepy habitants. And Verger.

     The buildings were tall, with walls consisting of dark brown bricks and dirty windows. Many railings and stairways were zigzagging up the walls and towards the roofs, above which the sky stretched with dark grey clouds.

     When Verger's gaze went right, he noticed a man that shared his pain.

     The guy was heading his way. His bruises seemed more strategically placed and it looked as if the entirety of his present existence was one big pain in the everything.

     Since he had to head that way, Verger limped towards him. They made eye contact once, and then lowered their heads in effort to keep moving.

     When Verger passed him, however, he heard a scoff behind. It felt as if it was aimed at him, so he turned around curiously.

     The man stopped too and glanced behind, supporting himself on the fence of the streetball court. He was gripping at his ribs and panting. His hair that reached lower than his shoulders was messed up, the one blonde strand in the dark mess stained with blood.

     "What?" Verger asked with a faint grin.

     The man shrugged and winced with it, then rolled his shoulder slowly and looked at Verger again.

     "Nah, it's just..." he pointed between them. "What happened to you?"

     Verger sighed, rubbing his jaw again. "I was playing streetball and it turned into streetfight. You?"

     The man chuckled. "I was streetfighting and it turned into streetball. With my head."

     "Aaaah, I see..." Verger murmured, limping his way closer to the man so that conversation would be easier. He outstretched an arm, and they shook hands. "I'm Verger."

     "I'm Lorn, nice to meet you."

     Verger frowned amused and tilted his head.

     "No, I don't especially like the band Korn." Lorn scoffed.

     "Aw, why not." Verger complained, letting go of his rough hand.

     The man shrugged tiny and twisted his mouth. "I'm more of a Dope D.O.D. sort of guy." (melody to the right)

     "I don't know what that is." Verger slowly paced around, hands in pockets.

     "Ah just some schizophrenic rappers with weird fetishes and cool wob wobs."

     "Oh really, they should compose the theme song for Viscount Street."

     Lorn laughed at that, an interesting sort. His eyebrows went up, his grin wide and toothy, and he leaned his body backwards a little. "Ow shít." he touched his lip and inspected the blood left on his finger. Then, he looked up at Verger with a considering frown.

     "Hey, I have a healing kit back at my place, and you seem to be in need of one as well." he pointed somewhere while wiping his hand off his jeans. "We could go do that."

     Verger shrugged. He had a healing kit as well, obviously, but there was something about the guy that made him want to stick around. He just seemed like a cool friend to have.

     It might be self-contradictory, how he knows everyone around to be dangerous and yet goes ahead and befriends Lorn like that. Thing was, the street was indeed dangerous, but that was unless you were an insider. It was like a tribe of their own, in which they could trust each other as long as you didn't mess with the wrong person. And he honestly couldn't imagine himself picking something with Lorn, the guy seemed chill.

     "Sure."

----------

     "Help yourself." Lorn sighed as soon as he plumped down on his couch. Behind him, a wide window offered view on a shady building and the street near it, with rich trees swaying in the summer evening wind and cars passing at obscene speeds.

     Next to the couch, there was a cooler with beers in it, though Lorn used it for another purpose. Taking off a sock, he pulled it on his hand and used it to grab a fistful of ice before pulling the sock out, thus improvising a compress.

     Verger noticed the coffee table had been set beforehand. The healing kit was open, with various utensils lined strategically and a rolled joint to finish the deal.

     Verger took the bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured some on a ball of cotton before going to the floor mirror on the other side of the couch. He winced at the view and got on patting his cheek, when something behind him caught his view, that being a mattress propped against a faded blue wall. That wall and the one facing it were blue, and the other two and the ceiling were grey..

     "Where's the bed to that?" he asked curiously, nodding to the mattress.

     Lorn peeked at him with a red surrounded eye, the other covered with the compress. "Had to sell it. I've had the flu for a while and couldn't fight, had to make money somehow."

     "I see. Didn't your friends help, though?"

     "They did, but it gets to a point, you know." Lorn shrugged.

     "Ah... Well, you can rely on me whenever." Verger said, sympathetic of Lorn since they shared the same story.

     "Idem." he grinned faintly, then frowned. "What was your name again?"

     Verger laughed, struggling on unsticking a band aid. "It's Verger."

     "That's mildly weird." Lorn commented, extending a hand. Verger handed him the band aid, and Lorn unglued the corner using his teeth before handing it back. Afterwards, he straightened up and reached for the joint, letting the compress down in its place.

     "You done with the healing kit?" Verger scoffed, and Lorn held up the roll.

     "Three joints a day keeps the doctor away."

     "Sure." Verger laughed, placing the band aid on his cut cheek. Troy had some mean rings. "Hey, can I crash here? I'm beat as shít." he asked, and Lorn hummed approvingly.

     With that, he added a small butterfly aid on his bust lip and straightened up, taking the sock-compress and placing it on his temple. Lorn just then lighted up his roll, and exhaled with a sigh of relief.

     "Is it cool if I lay the mattress?"

     Lorn opened his eyes and smiled a straight smile. "Nah, we'll cuddle on the couch." he said, and Verge would've went with it happily if he hadn't sensed the sarcasm in his voice.

     With a faint chuckle, he walked to the mattress and picked it up. Upon turning around, he saw Lorn shove the coffee table away with his feet to make place near the couch.

     "It gets cold during the night, it's warmer here." he pointed to the radiator behind the mirror, and Verger shrugged, walking there and laying the mattress on the dark wood floor.

     He plumped down on it with a groan and rolled on his back, holding up an arm. Lorn placed the joint in his hand and he took a drag, followed by coughs. It was stronger than he was used to.

     That got a low chuckle from Lorn, and Verger followed, his voice just as low. Passing the thing back, he stretched with pops and then relaxed.

     "Verger..." Lorn scoffed, moving on his side and glancing at the man with hazy blue eyes that caught Verger's light brown ones. "I'll call you... I'll call you Verge... no that's like... edge but nearer to falling than... than edge." he sighed. "You're not falling are you."

     Verger pouted thoughtfully and twisted his mouth. "Nah, I'm good."

     "Cool, I'll... call you Verg... that's like... vagína."

     "No it's not."

     "'Hey I met Vagína today'... 'Oh really Lorn? How'd that go for you'? 'Cool, cool. He's a chill guy'. 'Guy'? 'Yeah hah Vagína is... is my friend Verg... How the shít did Verg get to vagína?" Lorn casually spoke to himself, and Verger laughed in high pitched coughs.

     "Nah, I'll... call you Ver..." Lorn nodded. "Vermillion. You like rock right? There's this Slipknot song, Vermillion... I only watched the vids 'cause the chick is hot and crazy."

     "You really don't like rock?" Verger blinked in the smoke the man blew.

     "I mean... it's fine." Lorn sighed, placing his chin on his arm and glancing around the room, though he saw anything but the pIayboy posters on the faded blue walls. "Let's see, I'll... call you Vee... V..." his eyes went half closed. "Vvvv..."

     "Verger is good." Verger suggested.

     "But it gets to a point you know..."

     "What?"

     "What, what?"

     "What gets to a point?"

     "The fuçk are you talking about man."

     Verger laughed and took the joint from Lorn, taking a drag. He managed to hold his cough a couple seconds before giving up. Lorn laughed.

      "Hey, good night." Lorn murmured, patting his shoulder. As soon as he finished the sentence, his head rolled off his arm and he started snoring, his hand limp on Verger's shoulder.

     The man on the mattress scowled confused at that and laughed some more, finished the joint and placed the remains on the table and the compress in the cooler.

     With that, he sighed and got on sleeping, making no move of pushing the hand off his chest.

 

     "Pssst..." Verger whispered, knelt down by the couch to stand on level with Lorn's head. When the man didn't respond, he started shaking his shoulder. "Lorn, wake u-"

     Clear blue eyes opened widely and then pain blossomed on half of Verger's head as it moved sideways, along with his body, and onto the mattress.

     "Holy shít I'm so sorry!" Lorn sat up quickly, getting off the couch with his hands raised helplessly.

     Verger was gaping as he propped himself up on an arm, his hand holding the injured cheek. He couldn't even find his voice to moan in pain, his eyes tearing up.

     "I so didn't mean to you just scared me I completely forgot you were here!" Lorn laughed in shock, placing a hand on his forehead and another at the back of his head to inspect the cheek. "Shít that's nasty..."

     "Yeah? Feels far worse than it looks!" Verger announced through gritted teeth.

     "Aaah, I'll- I'll make up for it. Breakfast? I'll make you breakfast." Lorn suggested sheepishly, handing him the compress. Verger sighed and nodded, letting the man pull him on his feet.

     He followed Lorn out of the living room and to the kitchen, a separate room. It was small, with light brown walls and a table pressed to a wall, a single chair by it. Lorn motioned him to sit down and Verger did, watching as the guy got on cooking.

     "You know what you're doing?" Verger murmured with the compress pressed to his cheek, watching the man break an egg only to try and push away the shell pieces that fell into the frying pan.

     "Yeah!" Lorn exclaimed, lining strips of bacon with a loud, satisfying 'tss'. He glanced out the window by the oven, then took an egg and walked to the table, propping himself on it. "Hey, Verger?"

     "Hmm."

     "Drink an egg." he broke the egg and proceeded to pour the egg down his own mouth.

     "What the genuine fuçk, Lorn."

      Lorn laughed with his mouth close until he swallowed, then pulled a face. "Ugh, fuckíng disgusting. But it's good for you."

     "I'll pass." Verger squinted, and Lorn shrugged, slapping the stereo to play some music. With that, he shuffled to the oven and got on turning the bacon strips. "You dance?"

     Lorn nodded, arranging a last strip before doing some game of the feet that didn't put his strained body to much effort. It looked relaxed, as if the rainy mood on his background was being materialized into his dance moves, with easy sways of his shoulders and bounce of his legs and dangle of the arms.

     Somehow the relaxing melody, the pale light of morning, the gentle breeze coming from outside, the lazy movements of Lorn's body, they all offered this nice atmosphere that made Verger float in the present, a careless, light present. Or it might've been the punches received recently getting to his head.

     Either way, he sighed deeply and placed his head on a hand, then spoke.

     "Hey Lorn? Let's be friends forever."

     Lorn stopped with a wobble and then raised an eyebrow at Verger. After a couple seconds of letting that sink in, he laughed that surprised laughter of his.

     "Okay, let's be friends forever." he shrugged, then shook his head. "You're weird, Verger."

     "Yeah?" the man dared. "Says a guy named Lorn that doesn't like Korn, invites strangers at his for joints, compares my name with vagína, punches me first thing in the morning and suggests that I drink an egg before swallowing one himself despite it being 'fuckíng disgusting'."

     Lorn pursed his lips and picked up the frying pan, slamming the contents on a wide plate. "Yeah that's pretty weird." he agreed, walking to the table and placing the plate in the middle.

     "Well then I guess we're weird friends forever." he held his fist up, and Verger laughed before fist-pumping.

Drink an egg. (Dad 2014)

No, srsly, he randomly tells me that, ever since I can remember.

Dad: Hey, -mynamehere-

Me: Wot.

Dad: Drink an egg *walks away*

Me: *eyelid twitch*

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