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    The metal bars were slippery from the sweat left on them by the yelling men. But there could've been HIV infected piss on them and Verger would've still pulled himself up as determinedly as now, his soles desperately rubbing against the things on his way up.

     Once he reached the top, he crossed his arms on it and cursed when someone in the crowd pulled on his pants. He hadn't even pulled his zipper up on the way there, too busy nibbling on his nails and cursing at the taxi driver to go faster, and so his pants lowered enough for the top of his boxers to show.

     "The fuck do you think you're doing! We're bet that his ass'd be dead!" the bloke that was gripping him yelled, spit escaping through the gaps between his teeth.

     Verger growled and kicked him in the face, using it to push himself over the hard metal fence. It was enough to send him to the ground, landing right on his elbow, and he coughed dryly. It didn't help that feet started kicking him from between the bars behind him.

     Pushing himself up, he ran.

     "Stop fucking hurting my friend!" he yelled, which distracted the hulk of a man enough for him to go and kneel by Lorn. "Holy shit Lorn I'm so sorry..." he whispered, placing a hand on his friend's back but hesitating to turn him over.

     Lorn's hair was covering his face, which was pressed into the ground. He wasn't even hunched in pain, just lying there like a fallen punching bag.

     Just when Verger got the courage to try and turn him over, something hard and dirty pressed into his cheek, keeping his head tilted. Beyond the dust and chewing gum, he could smell leather- the man had his sole on Verger's face.

     "Don't you know the rules little man? He has to say 'uncle'!" the man's Scottish accent teased at his nerves. Glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, Verger observed the kilt and shuddered.

     "How the fuck" Verger began in a low voice, then it rose to a yell. "is he to do that unconscious!"

     The man laughed. "Don't concern me!"

     "Verger!"

     The man moved his eyes frontwards to see Troy gawk at him from behind bars. "Get the fuck out of there you idiot!" he yelled, despite getting on climbing the bars, a man near him doing the same while a little guy attempted to tug him back worriedly.

     "Say it." the redhead demanded, shoving Verger's face onto the ground, just next to Lorn's. Dirt dust and tiny pebbles pressed deeper and deeper into his face as the man pressed further.

     From there, Verger could see between his friend's strands of hair and he panted at the sight.

     "Un-"

     "Don't say it you faggot!" Troy's friend snapped, pushing the Scotsman away and unhooking a chain from his jeans.

     "God damn it Valentin." Troy growled, but took the opportunity of the distraction and knelt to help Verger in picking Lorn up. (Valentin from Vices. Remember how Troy's his b.f.f?)

     Verger glanced at the men for a couple seconds, enough to see the Scotsman grip the collar of Valentin's leather coat, pick him off his feet and shake him as if trying to get a demon out of him.

     But then he focused on dragging Lorn out of there. Troy led them to the slim gate of the fence, where he hurriedly bribed the guard into opening for them.

     Once out of the garage, Troy let go of Lorn, letting the whole weight on Verger, who in turn stumbled and looked at him incredulously.

     "Go ask for help from those guys." the blond pointed at a group smoking by some tall cargo with rap blasting from the Chevrolet 1500 nearby.

     "Troy!" Verger breathlessly yelled at the retreating blond.

     "I have a friend there too, damn it!" he barely took the time to respond before diving into the crowd.

      Verger gasped helplessly and fell to the ground, unable to support the man any longer. He could've if he hadn't spent a night fucking instead of getting some rest, or maybe it wouldn't even have gotten to this if he was there to support him instead of sleeping the whole day because said night of fucking.

     "I'm so sorry Lorn..." he groaned, pushing his hair out of the way only to gasp at the view. Just to block it, he nudged his head in the man's and gripped the collar of his blood stained wife beater, shaking it in attempt to wake him up.

     "Help!" he yelled over his head at the group.

     Four black heads and a white one turned towards him, then towards each other in silent consideration.

     "Please." he could feel himself tear up, and it seemed to do the trick because two men hurried towards him.

---------

     Lorn and Verger were on the pickup truck's bed, with Lorn leaning on the rear window. Verger was inspecting him with frozen muscles, his eyes widen and his eyebrows pinched.

     His eyes were underlined by bruises similar to Chuck's dark circles, caused by all the shit he snorted/injected. His nose was leaking blood even then, Verger's hands were coated in it from trying to stop the flow. It reached down to his slightly parted lips, and the bruises on his cheeks made them look hollow. His right eyebrow was badly cut, and somehow Verger suspected that belt on the man's kilt had been resorted to.

     He tentatively peeked at his wife beater and peeled it off him enough to see the abstract variety of colors on his chest before glancing away.

     Now that the adrenaline was no longer overwhelming his system, his blood flowed normally and so he took notice of the cold evening air.

     He was wearing Lorn's sleeveless hoodie, since they had switched- mainly because Verger liked seeing Lorn in his leather jacket like nothing else. He took it off and covered his friend with it as if tucking him to sleep, but he didn't want to tuck him to nothing. He wanted him to open his eyes, or at least move, or breathe regularly for more than two seconds!

     "Lorn..." he tried yet again, placing a hand on his chest to search the beat of his heart. It was there, faint and dull. He sniffled, only then remembering the tears on his face, but doing nothing to stop them.

     He gently put his head on his shoulder and hugged him, careful of his bruises but close enough to feel his chest heave slowly. "I'm sorry..."

     "Better fuckin' be..."

     Verger pulled back with a jerk and searched the man's eyes, but he kept them close.

     "The fuck are you humpin' me for..." Lorn croaked, his jaw barely moving, surely because of the bruise on it. Even his stubble was covered with dry blood.

     "Holy shit..." Verger coughed, wiping his eyes the moment Lorn opened his own. "I thought you were in a coma or something!"

     "Nah, been awake since the car started..." Lorn murmured. "T'was funny how you were ballin' your eyes out."

     "Yeah?" Verger sniffled, wiping his nose. "You would've done the same so shut up."

     "Nah, I would've... drawn Dickbutt on your face or sumtin'." (good ol' dickbutt to the right)

     Verger laughed breathlessly and then silently watched Lorn watch him. His blue eyes were dark under the shadow of his brows, and his strands of hair kept hiding them with the powerful wind blowing. However, whenever they passed streetlamps, the blue in them would glisten, mainly due to the layer of tears in them. Verger had to admire him, he would've been crying like a baby after a beating like that.

     "You're a shit friend." the man stated, his voice as monotonous as his expression. Verger could barely hear him over the sound of the engine and passing cars.

     "I know."

     Lorn gulped and went to shift in a cozier position, but gave up as soon as he moved a muscle. "But from all of my friends in the crowd...  you were the only to jump in. So I guess you're a stupid shit friend."

     Verger chuckled faintly and shook his head. "Nah... I'm a weird friend forever."

     Lorn rolled his eyes and closed them.

 

     Lorn shivered when Verger's cold hands shifted the compress on his stomach around. It was pinned there with wraps of bandage that Verger had covered his waist and chest with.

     He leaned on the headboard and observed the surroundings. It was the first time he was at Verger's, and he'd like to see more of the room, but the double bed they were on had a wall to the right, a wall to the back and a tall bookshelf to the left. There wasn't much to be seen at the front but a desktop with a TV and random mess on it.

     He picked something from the bookshelf that was occupied with music more than books. The cover of the album he picked presented a scrawny, white thing with female body and ugly male head, the irises, lips and hair red. He read 'Marilyn Manson'.

     "Ugh." he voiced, then sighed and looked up at Verger, who was just working on treating the scrapes on his right wrist. "So what'd you do to pass out the entire following day?"

      Verger looked at him sorrily and gently placed the bandaged wrist on the mattress. "Well I caught up with Lionel during the party his team threw, then had sex."

     Lorn glanced at him dully and placed the album back in the shelf. "Your beloved friend was leaving that night and you made time for sex?"

     Verger smiled tiny. "Well yeah."

     "You really are a shit friend to have." Lorn murmured.

     "No I'm not, look at me." Verger pointed at his devastated existence, all trembling hands and tired eyes and bruised from the game and Scotsman's treatment.

     "Okay, you're an ugly shit friend."

     "Fuck you Lorn!" Verger raised a hand, but thought better than to hurt the man and instead slumped down against the window on the right side of the bed. He looked out at the warehouse in the distance and sighed.

     Lorn took the time to look at the bookshelf and the countless albums covering the shelves. He didn't get to see the rest of the room, having passed out and woken up on the bed, so he wrapped a dozen albums with an arm and pulled them off to see through the shelf.

     Verger gasped. "Lorn for fuck's sake!"

     The man ignored him and looked around. The place was spacious, but it seemed small with all of the shit thrown about. It looked almost obsessive, a bunch of card bundles, band posters, rows of lamps, stacks of identical books (about four copies of each book), band figurines, gum packs, lighters, it looked like a fucking shop.

     "What the hell, Verger?" he asked, looking back at the man as he got on sorting the albums he deranged.

     Verger twisted his mouth and shrugged. "I had a kleptomaniac phase. I just stole whatever I put my hands on, and I can't bring myself to throw anything away."

     Lorn gawked again for as long as he could before Verger placed a row of albums back on the shelf, blocking his view. "You have six lamps."

     "Yeah, it was pretty bad. But I steadily got out of it as I grew up, didn't steal that much since I moved here."

      "From all the times you could possibly choose to stop being good at stealing, you chose the moment you moved on Viscount Street. You're really-"

     "Stop insulting me you're hurting my feelings!" Verger wailed with a ragged voice, patting his chest.

     "As soon as I get better I'll hurt your fucking jaw for ditching on me like that."

     Verger placed the last albums and huffed, leaning his head on the shelf. Then he rolled his head towards Lorn and squinted. "That's right, I must punch you twice. I won my play and you lost yours."

     Lorn rolled his eyes and grabbed the pale orange teddy bear with a brown ribbon at the neck and lied down on it, since it was the only pillow on the bed. Verger snickered at the sight and the man kicked him in the ribs, at which Verger groaned. He hadn't even treated himself before nursing Lorn around.

     But he was far too beyond exhaustion to get on that, so he crawled closer to Lorn instead, tugging at the bear. Lorn was fast asleep, so he was left with just a plush leg to put his head on, his nose conveniently close to the man's chest.

 

     Verger woke up to the sound of his stomach growling on its way to auto-digest.

     Squinting his eyes open, he sat on his heels and looked out the window to see it was well into the night. He deduced so because he knew for a fact that a shady group of people would kick the streetlamp nearby until it turned off somewhere around 3am, most probably not wanting anyone to see their faces from windows as they gathered and discussed shady people stuff.

     Then, Verger couldn't keep himself from glancing at Lorn and cooing internally. His strong arms hugged the bear tightly, his cheek pressed into it and his dark hair a mess, cascading over his naked shoulders and back. The bandages on his body hid the muscles, but hugged his silhouette nicely, shifting with each snore he not so attractively made.

     Before Verger's piercing gaze would wake the clueless man, he stood up from the bed and almost ran to the fridge. It stood next to a short L-shaped counter, pressed to the corner of the studio apartment. The way there could've been a trap to anyone else, what with all of the stuff scattered around, but Verger knew his mess.

     Opening the fridge, he squinted at the light and blindly reached in, managing to retreat a cube of cheese and a tomato in one hand, and a chicken leg in the other.

     He took a bite of each and munched loudly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He noticed a can of beer he forgot of in the fridge and frowned, unwilling to let go of the food but caring for a sip or two.

     Thus, he took it upon himself to bent forwards and bite the rim, tilt the can and go for a sip. As if the plan had been ingenious and flawless, he gasped in shock when the thing fell to the floor with a splash he barely dodged by jumping back.

     He quickly tilted it up with his toes, but the damage had been done and he heard the bed creak.

     "The fuck are you doing Verger?" Lorn asked from beyond the bookshelf.

     "I'm doing fine, thank you Lorn. Yourself?" Verger asked with his voice as sleep-soaked as his friend's. A low rasp with forced bumps in the tone to try and be expressive.

     Lorn crawled out of the bed with grunts to accompany each creak and stood up, supporting himself on the shelf. His head hanged low, letting his hair sway straight, with the moonlight peeking between his thin, ink-colored strands.

     "Food?" he croaked out.

     "Yes." Verger said with a mouthful of cheese and tomato, then watched as Lorn made his way to him. His smirk grew wider and wider as he approached the bag of socks on the ground, and he shamelessly chuckled when Lorn stumbled over it.

     The man said nothing, just snatched the chicken from Verger and bit it so violently you'd think it had been the one to have placed the bag in his way.

     "So..." Verger said after a couple moments of them eating in silence, eyes trained on a drop of beer that just managed to get into Lorn's stubble before he wiped it off with an arm. "What did happen back at the fight?"

     Lorn sighed through his nose and glanced at him from the corner of his eyes before placing the can back in the fridge. The light from it cast a weird shadow over his eyes, as if the bruises under them didn't make him look creepy enough.

     "I missed a second of focus and he managed to punch me. And it meant a lot, because I lost my balance, and when you loose your composure you're done for. The kicks just kept coming."

     Verger frowned. "Shit."

     "Yeah." Lorn murmured, then jerked the door of the fridge and kicked Verger's arm with it.

     "The fuck man!"

     "My bad." Lorn said monotonously and glanced at him before kicking him again.

     "Why are you being such a jerk!"

     "Because I'm pissed at you!" Lorn's pitch raised with a crack. "How can you miss my fight?" he slammed the door shut and went to the sink to wash up.

     "I said I'm sorry, we've been over this!"

     "I'm not over this." Lorn maturely shook his wet hands towards him, and Verger turned away with a tsk.

     "What can I do to make up for it?" Verger grumbled, nudging him away to wash up as well.

     Lorn crossed his arms on his chest and tucked his chin in consideration. "Suck my dick."

     Verger rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter, tilting his head.

     Lorn placed his hands on his hips and squinted at him, then grinned sideways. "You know how you owe me two punches? Because you won your contest and I lost mine? Let's switch."

     Verger groaned. "I'd rather suck your dick."

     "Stand still." Lorn pulled Verger away from the counter by the elbow, then positioned himself.

     "Come on, I'm..." Verger scoffed and huffed, unwilling to take another bruise after all the fouls he'd received during streetball.

     "Friendly warning, I'm taking out the anger of losing through these two punches."

     Verger's face twisted, and he tilted his head away, but Lorn moved it back by his chin. When he went to inch it away again, Lorn repeated the previous gesture.

     Now that he stood straight, he observed how close he was to reaching Lorn's height. Verger usually stood hunched, it was in his attitude to do so and he couldn't really do much about it.

     "Just tell me when." Verger squinted his eyes close.

     "Nah, it'd ruin the thrill of it."

     "Lor- fucking! Goat shit!" Verger stumbled away after the punch, his teeth shaking in his mouth.

     "Quick while it's still numb!" Lorn gripped his chin and kept his head in place for the second punch that landed with a smack as loud as the previous.

     Verger sobbed dryly, cupping the cheek as he leaned on the fridge. He hoped Lorn would've punched both to maybe balance the pain, but it was just the left half of his face that had to take it all.

     Barely straightening up, he turned towards him. "How can you be such a jerk!" he just got to finish talking when Lorn gripped his chin again, keeping him in place. "No, I swear I'll kick you out-"

     Lorn pressed a determined peck on the injured cheek, only adding to the pain but Verger didn't find it in him to be anything but giddy about it. His full lips were soft on his injury, his chin stubble was tickling his skin, and the scent of his cologne made his eyelids flutter.

     The man pulled back with a smirk and then laughed at Verger's awed face. "I'm just messing around, you know that. I love you, man! I just..." he swatted his shoulder. "You're mellow like a pile of poop in rain. Toughen up."

     Verger blinked, his lips shakily expanding into half a grin that didn't reach the left cheek. He scoffed a couple times, then nodded. "I love you too..." he felt the hand on his shoulder twitch and hurried to add "Man."

     Lorn nodded and pulled him in for a short hug, his display of affection yet again hurting the bruise on Verger's cheek as it smashed into his hard pectorals, but the man commented none.

     "Well this got real gay real fast." Lorn commented lightly and pulled back, and Verger scoffed. "Let's go sleep."

     "Will we cuddle?" Verger joked, trailing after him.

     "Dude, I'm sharing bed with a man and his huge teddy bear. Cuddling would be the least gay thing I did tonight."

     "Is that a yes?"

     Lorn just laughed him off and lay down slowly, careful of his injuries. Verger was already settled by the time Lorn finally lay down on his back as to gaze out the window. There were numerous clocks about the apartment, persistently ticking in a sickeningly synced chorus as the men lay in silence.

     "Can't believe you cried though."

     "Shut the fuck up."

dickbutt for president.

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