Ferociously Adorable - 1. Ferociously Adorable

It was late in the afternoon on a Sunday and I had been blankly starring at my reflection on the computer screen for about half an hour. I was only 38, but I felt much older and I looked tired and spent. The stubble that I hadn't been shaving in a few days was already graying in more places than not and I had deep frown lines, some scars I wished I had the money to remove and my hair was still short enough but in desperate need of some grooming.

I sighed and then turned off my computer. I moaned when I was getting up, because I had been working without taking a break since six in the morning and my body was stiff and weak. I left my small bedroom, which I also used as my office, and headed to the kitchen. The living area only consisted of a black couch for two people, a glass table and a cabinet with my TV, some books and a colorful lava lamp on it. There were some framed drawings hanging on the walls and I had dark red curtains that I kept closed, but otherwise the way my apartment was decorated seemed very basic.

The kitchen, which was part of the living area, was nothing to write home about either, but I had recently bought a small table and two chairs, because I had been tired of eating on my couch.

I checked the fridge and it turned out to be almost empty, so I put on my shoes and jacket and went to the grocery store.

On my way back someone yelled the n-word at me, but after living in this god-forsaken neighborhood for far too long I was used to it by now and I didn’t have any fight left in me anyway, so I just ignored it and hurried home.

As I was climbing the stairs in my building I suddenly came across a young man sleeping on the landing near my apartment. He seemed to be in his late 20‘s, his face was soft-featured, but he was pale, there was some uneven stubble and a couple of scratches on his cheeks and forehead. His hair was dark brown at the base, the tips had a faded blond color and it hadn't been cut in a couple of months. It also looked like he had had a short Mohawk once, but it was barely visible anymore. Otherwise he was very skinny, his clothes were baggy and he smelled of alcohol and cigarettes.

I tried to be gentle when tapped him on the shoulder to wake him up, but he still flinched violently and looked around in confusion.

"What the fuck?!" he gasped and then he focused on me and frowned „Who the shit are you?!“ he asked, sounding somewhat alarmed.

„My name is Ben. I live here. Who are you, if I may ask?“ I said as reassuringly as I could.

„I’m Lee, your adorable new neighbor who's g..." he started to answer, but stopped and then gagged forcefully a few times. „False alarm. Relax please," he said when he was done and laughed out loud.

"You can’t just sleep in the staircase, you know?" I replied, slightly grinning.

"Oh really? You did see me very much sleeping here just now, did you not, huh?" he said matter-of-factly.

"I meant that you’re not supposed to sleep here."

"How super-interesting! So what am I supposed to do then, ring your door bell and ask for some eggs? Fine. Ringeling ding dong, may I borrow some eggs please, and maybe some sweet marmalade?" he said and then laughed out loud again.

"You do seem to be missing a few eggs in your basket," I replied, smirking.

"Burn! It cuts like a knife, but I bet not as much as an actual fucking knife," he said as he was pulling a knife out of his pocket. "So, what were you saying, Mr. Potentially-soon-to-be-cut-up-like-a-fucking-bitch-man, huh?!" he asked, waving his knife at me.

"Jesus, take it easy. I didn’t mean anything by it," I replied, raising my hands.

"Good. Now where’s my sweet fucking marmalade, motherfucker?!" he said and then squinted at me.

"I don't have any marmalade, but we could go to my place and I'll make you some coffee if you want."

"Ehm, stranger danger much, huh?" he asked in an accusatory tone.

"Stranger danger? You’re the one with the fucking knife!" I answered somewhat indignantly.

"What’s with all the fucking jibber jabbering? I mean, did you bring me my sweet marmalade yet?"

"Have you seen me leaving and then coming back?" I asked sarcastically.

"That’s exactly my point, you dumb bitch!" he answered, slightly glaring.

"Jesus, do you want some fucking coffee or not?!"

"Well, if you're being this charming about it, I guess I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?"

"Alright, let’s go then," I replied, shaking my head, chuckling.

"Sure, that’s why I lie here, because I can just up and go wherever the fuck I please."

"I'm sorry, do you want some help?"

"No, not at all, you just watch me fucking go, motherfucker!" he said and then he got up, but immediately stumbled, fell backwards against the third story window, the frame cracked all over and even the glass made a sound as if it was about to shatter.

"Jesus!" I gasped, quickly grabbed him and pulled him towards me.

"What’s with the touching me, Mr. Stranger-danger-man, huh?" Lee asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm trying to keep you from falling out the fucking window!" I answered forcefully.

"What if I enjoy falling out of fucking windows, huh?"

"I'm pretty sure you can only enjoy that once and then you‘re dead," I replied with a smirk.

"If I'd do a barrel roll I'd be completely fine. I'm kind of a ninja that way, graceful like a trash bag dancing in the wind, you know?" he said matter-of-factly.

"I’ll take your word for it. Now let‘s go, alright?"

"Hold on one fucking second, two at the most," he replied and then he stumbled over to the railing and puked straight down the middle of the staircase.

"Is that the gracefulness you were talking about?" I asked, shaking my head again, smirking.

He looked at me with a stunned expression, and puke still dripping off his mouth, and then he burst out laughing really hard.

"I doubt the other tenants will appreciate this mess, not to mention the smell, you know?" I said.

"They can appreciate this fucking mess right here!" he replied and grabbed himself between the legs.

"Alright, come on," I sighed.

I took a hold of him and finally managed to get him inside my apartment and then to sit him down on a chair at my kitchen table.

"How do you want your coffee?" I asked as I was filling the water boiler.

"Ehm, how do I want what? I’m not even sure where the fuck I am right now," he answered, sounding both puzzled and amused.

"You‘re in my apartment, having some coffee, to sober you up."

"Sober me up? I just got this fucking drunk like half an hour ago! Or are you under the impression that I was simply strolling down the street without a care in the world and when I was yawning a bottle of schnapps just happened to fly straight into my open mouth through no fault of my own and then I swallowed that shit whole completely by accident? Because if you are, I think you need that coffee more than I do, you know?" he said, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"How about dinner then? I could make us a salad."

"A schnapps salad?"

"I take that as ..." I started to say, but suddenly I heard a dripping sound and when I turned around I saw that there was small puddle under Lee's chair.

"Jesus Christ! Did you just fucking piss yourself?!" I said, both baffled and annoyed.

He frowned in confusion and then looked down at his pants.

"Sheessh, what do you know. I didn’t even feel that. Isn’t that weird?" he replied, sounding bewildered, but still somewhat amused.

"No, it‘s not weird, it’s fucked up! Jesus!" I answered, glaring at him.

"So-ry, I didn’t realize that your place is too fucking fancy to take a piss in," he said dismissively.

"You can piss in the toilet all you want, but not on the fucking floor! Jesus Christ!" I yelled, totally outraged.

"Oh no, excuseth myself, I shalleth carry my urination to thy bathchambers then," he said as he was getting up, but then he slipped, fell face first into his piss, puked violently and passed out. I just sighed and after staring at him incredulously for about a minute I headed to my supply closet.

I mopped up all the piss and puke as well as I could, turned him onto his side and finally covered him with a blanket. I wasn't really hungry anymore, so I just ate some chips and watched TV with my headphones on until I eventually drifted off to sleep.

In the morning I was woken by Lee‘s snoring and it almost made me smile for some reason. I got up, brushed my teeth and once I had had some coffee I went over to Lee and carefully shook him. A few seconds later he opened his eyes and flinched violently again when he saw me kneeling in front of him.

"I have a knife, motherfucker!" he yelled and quickly reached into his pants.

"Calm down, it’s just me, Ben, remember?" I said, raising my hands.

He froze and then squinted at me.

"Ben who the fuck?!" he asked, sounding both confused and suspicious.

"Your friendly neighbor who helped you last night? You're in my apartment?"

"What? Friendly? You didn’t give yourself a blowjob by fucking my mouth while I was out, did you?" he said, frowning.

"Do you not know how a blowjob works?" I asked sarcastically.

"I certainly do, but maybe you don’t."

"I know it involves two conscious and consenting people."

"Did you learn that at your daily mouth-rapist anonymous meeting?"

"No, it’s called basic decency and common sense!" I said insistently.

"Those are some pretty words for a mouth-rapist."

"Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" I asked, starting to lose my patience.

"Oh, excuse me, do I annoy you? I bet you would love to shove your cock into my mouth right now to shut me up, wouldn’t you?"

"No thanks, I don’t have enough bleach to clean my dick with afterwards."

"That’s such a mouth-rapist thing to say," he replied, chuckling.

"Christ! Call me mouth-rapist one more time and I‘ll kick your fucking ass!" I said, getting more pissed off by the minute.

"Oh yeah?" he asked defiantly, got up, but stumbled and fell backwards onto my table, broke it in half right in the middle and it all came crashing down onto the floor.

"Jesus!" I gasped. "You’re better be paying for that!" I said, glaring at him.

"Paying? You just fucking pushed me, motherfucker!" Lee answered, slightly winded and trying to sound scandalized.

"I did no such thing!" I said indignantly.

"Who do you think the pigs are going believe, the adorable next door neighbor or the fucking mouth-rapist of Simmons street, huh?" he asked, both squinting and pouting at me.

"I guess we‘ll find out, because I’m calling them right!" I said as I was reaching into my pocket.

"No, please, I’m sorry, ok?!" Lee replied, sounding alarmed.

"You‘re fucking insane and so am I for not calling the cops sooner!"

"Please, I‘ll blow you, ok?" he said with some desperation in his voice.

"Jesus, no!" I replied, both offended and appalled.

"I’ll let you fuck me then, you can even tie me up and put a gag in my mouth so I can’t get away or call for help, ok? Please?"

"Are you a fucking fugitive or something?!" I asked, frowning deeply.

"No, but it would be my third strike and I’d rather die than to go to jail again."

"Well, maybe you belong in jail!"

All of a sudden he pulled his knife out of his pocket and held it against his throat. I quickly threw myself on him and grabbed his arm, but there was already blood on his neck, so I kneed him in the stomach and he dropped the knife. I picked it up and got back on my feet.

"Jesus, WHAT THE FUCK?!" I yelled furiously, breathing hard.

He just curled up in a ball and started to sob. I stared at him, completely flabbergasted, not knowing what to do next.

"Please," he whimpered. "Just let me leave. You’ll never see me again, I swear to god!"

"You need help!"

"I've tried that. It didn’t take."

"Maybe it was the wrong help?"

"No, I’m the problem. I mean, FUCKING LOOK AT ME!" he yelled desperately and then sobbed even harder.

"Alright," I sighed. "How about I don’t call the police and we get you cleaned up, into some fresh clothes, have something to eat and a coffee or two and then we‘ll try to figure this out?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

"Why would you help me after all this shit I pulled?"

"Maybe I’ve been in a bad place too once and know what that's like."

"You know exactly jack-shit about what kind of place I’m in, motherfucker!" he said spitefully.

"Do you want my help or not?!" I asked with a deep frown.

"I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?"

"Jesus!" I gasped, incredulous.

"No! I’m sorry. I want your help, ok? Please?" he replied meekly.

"Well, then come on, you need to shower."

"I can’t get up. I think I broke my arm," he said with some sadness in his voice.

"Jesus, then we need to go to the hospital!" I answered, slightly alarmed.

"No! It’s ok, I broke my arm before, it’s no big deal."

"It is a big deal! You need medical attention!"

"Please, just help me up. I’m sure after the shower I’ll be as good as new, ok?"

"Fine," I sighed and then I carefully helped him onto his feet, but suddenly he went down on his knees and tried to unbuckle my pants.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I asked, glaring, and pushed his hand away.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I misunderstood. Where’s your bedroom or do you want to fuck me right here?"

"I don’t want to fuck you at all!" I said matter-of-factly.

"You don't? So what are you going to do with me then?" he asked, looking at me with fear in his eyes.

"Nothing! Help you get cleaned up!"

"Oh, and then you‘ll fuck me, got it."

"No! I won‘t fuck you or let you blow me or anything else sexual, period!" I said forcefully.

He just stared at me with a blank expression for a second or two.

"You’re not going to murder me, are you?" he finally asked, sounding both confused and apprehensive.

"Oh my God! No! I just stopped you from killing yourself! Would I have done that if I wanted to murder you?!" I replied, becoming increasingly annoyed.

"I don't think you get how murder works," he said in a condescending tone.

"I'm not going to fucking murder you!" I replied, resentful.

"That is what a murderer would say though."

"What the fuck do you even care?! You just tried to kill yourself! So how about you just SHUT THE FUCK UP already and get in the fucking shower!" I yelled, fuming.

He didn’t answer or look at me, he just got off the floor and then followed me to the bathroom. After I had brought him some clothes I cleaned the floor properly and just when I was finished and about to brew a fresh cup of coffee he came out of the bathroom.

"Your clothes smell weird," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"Weirder than your piss and puke-soaked ones?" I asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, they smell like your grandma rubbed her cooch against them."

I had given him old clothes that were too small for me and they had been sitting in my closet for years, so I walked over to him to smell them, but he immediately winced and took a step back. I stopped and held up my hands.

"I’m not going to hurt you, alright?" I said reassuringly.

"Says the guy who mouth-raped me and then shoved me into a table," he replied, both pouting and squinting.

"Why the fuck are you like this?" I asked with a deep frown.

"What? You mean adorable?" he answered innocently.

"No, you’re trying to make me hate you, right?"

"Why would I do that, huh, Mr. Mouth-rapist?" he asked in a defiant tone.

"Because you’re fucking insane?" I replied, slightly glaring.

"I'm not insane, I’m just traumatized from all the mouth-rape and terrible violence."

"Jesus, do you want me to kill myself?! Is that what you’re trying to fucking accomplish?!" I asked and then I grabbed his knife from my pocket and pulled up my sleeve. His eyes widened and he immediately covered my wrist with his hand.

"I’ll stop, I swear, please?" he said, sounding both alarmed and scared.

"Fine, what do you want to eat?" I asked as I put the knife back into my pocket.

"A well done steak with mashed potatoes, some peas and a nice Greek salad. And chocolate pudding for desert!" he replied without missing a beat.

"That’ll take a while, so how about you watch TV in the meantime?"

"Yes, up your ass-cunt too, motherfucker!" he answered spitefully.

"What the fuck is wrong now?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

"You’re being a douchebag, obviously! I mean, you fucking asked me what I wanted to eat, so I fucking told you, you piece of shit!"

"Yes, you did and now I’m making it. How does that make me a douchebag?"

"You’re going to make me a steak?" he asked, looking at me condescendingly.

"With mashed potatoes, some peas and a Greek salad, yes," I answered, nodding.

"No you’re not!" he said with insistence.

"Yes, I am, fucking watch me!" I replied forcefully.

"You’re a piece of shit!" he said, glaring.

"Jesus, I swear on my mother's grave, I’ll make you a fucking steak, alright?!"

"No!" he gasped and burst into tears.

"Come here," I said and tried to hug him, but he flinched and backed away again. "Can you trust me for one minute? Please?" I asked. He nodded weakly, so took him into my arms and gently stroked his back.

After a few seconds he held onto me for dear life and started to sob. I kept consoling him for at least another ten minutes and by the time he let go my face was wet with tears too.

"Better?" I asked with some concern.

"Yeah," he answered quietly, looking at the floor.

"I'm glad," I said and smiled at him.

"Now where's my fucking steak, motherfucker, huh?!" he asked more aggressively. I laughed and he had to grin too.

"Jesus," I answered, shaking my head. "I’m going to make it now, alright?"

"So you say and yet here you still are, yapping away like some stupid fucking bitch," he replied with raised eyebrows.

I laughed again.

"Fine. Don‘t break my TV," I said as I was heading over to the fridge.

"You know, I'm really bad when it comes to taking orders. For example, all I just heard you say was, rip the TV out of the wall, bust open the casing, shit into it and then hurl it through the fucking window. If that‘s what you meant, then worry not, I’m on that shit, ok?"

"Please?" I said, looking at him expectantly.

"Fine," he sighed. "I won’t touch your holier-than-the-pope's-cock TV."

"You can still use it. I have some cool stuff on my DVR."

"I‘d rather shit myself in the mouth than watch TV."

"Why?" I asked, frowning.

"I don’t know, it reminds me of my childhood, I guess."

"I'm sorry. I have a bunch of great books too though. Feel free the read them."

"I don’t read, I drink schnapps till I pass out. Hey, you don't happen to have some nice schnapps lying around, do you?"

"No, I’m a recovering alcoholic."

"Do you have any drugs then?"

"I'm afraid not."

"What about some fucking glue and a bag?"

"Don't get high, please?" I said and looked at him again.

"God, this feels like I’m in one of my recurring nightmares, except that I can’t wake up shitfaced," he replied, sounding frustrated, and then he sighed.

"I'm sorry. I’ll hurry, alright?"

"Whatever the fuck," he mumbled under his breath and finally walked over to the couch, so I started to prepare his meal.

When I was done cooking I put some silverware, glasses and a bottle of water on the coffee table, cut up Lee's steak, to make it easier from him to eat it with only one hand, and lastly I carried both of our plates to the living room.

"Enjoy!" I said, smiling, after I had put his plate in front of him. He picked it up, held it to his nose and then squinted at me.

"This is obviously poisoned," he said matter-of-factly. I shook my head, chuckling and changed plates with him.

"I guess I’m screwed now, right?" I asked as I was cutting his new steak for him.

He just stared at me with a dumbstruck expression for a few seconds.

"No, I'll eat the poisoned one," he eventually said and changed back the plates.

"It‘s not poisoned. I mean, after what I’ve been through with you, if I wanted to kill you I would choke you to death with my bare hands, trust me."

"Aww, such pretty words of comfort."

"I'm sorry," I replied, chuckling. "I usually don't say fucked up shit like that, but I guess you're starting to rub off on me."

"Sure, blame the adorable neighbor with the heart of gold and the voice of an angel."

I laughed.

"Anyway! Enjoy!"

"Whatever the fuck," he said and then he took a piece of steak on his fork, smelled it again and finally put it in his mouth. He frowned and after a couple more bites he started to wolf down his meal like there was no tomorrow. When he was finished with the salad he even drank the rest of the dressing out of the bowl and then gasped.

"And, what was wrong with it?" I asked, smirking.

"Nothing, it was by far the best meal I’ve ever had in my life," he answered, sounding sincere.

"But?"

"But where’s my fucking pudding, motherfucker?!" he said forcefully and slightly glaring.

I chuckled.

"It’s in the fridge. Do you want cherries with it?" I answered.

"Obviously," he replied and rolled his eyes at me.

"Fine, I’ll be right back."

"Bring the jar, I love cherries."

I brought over the pudding and the cherries and once I had taken some for myself he grabbed the jar and emptied the whole thing into his pudding.

I laughed.

"You were done with them, weren’t you?" he asked with a slight frown.

"Sure," I replied, grinning.

We started to eat and Lee basically inhaled the entire bowl in less than two minutes.

"Pew, I'm so fucking full I might shit myself any second now, but it was totally worth it," he said while rubbing his stomach.

"How’s your arm?" I asked, somewhat concerned.

"Absolutely fucking amazing," he replied cheerfully.

"Do you at least want some painkillers?"

"No, of course not, I love pain."

"Hold on," I said as I was getting up. I headed to the kitchen and soon returned with the painkillers, handed Lee the bottle and he unscrewed it and then poured all the pills into his mouth at once.

"What the Fuck?! Spit them out, right now!" I yelled, both alarmed and shocked, but he quickly took his water and washed them down before I could stop him.

"Did you want one too or something?" he asked innocently.

"No, but you can’t swallow 20 fucking pills at once! Jesus!"

"My totally empty mouth suggests quite the opposite," he replied and then looked at me, pouting.

"Come on, make yourself throw up, right fucking now. I'm not joking."

"As you wish," he said. He put two fingers into his mouth and threw up so violently that he covered the whole table with red, chunky puke.

"Jesus!" I gasped and my eyes widened.

"What? I was only following your fucking instructions, it’s really not my fault that they were stupid as shit, just like you," he said in a condescending tone.

"Jesus," I sighed, starring at the mess in disbelief.

"Anyway, I’m sleepy now, so I think I should be going home and sleep there. I mean, no offense, but this place is fucking gross."

"And guess who is to blame for that?" I asked, frowning at him.

"Satan?" he answered without missing a beat.

I laughed and we both got up.

"You didn’t steal anything, right?" I asked.

"What? No! I'm way too adorable to steal shit. But that reminds me, is this yours?" he said and then pulled my wallet out of his back pocket.

"Jesus, how the fuck did you get this?!" I replied, bewildered and alarmed, and then quickly grabbed the wallet.

"When you gave me that creepy hug earlier it must’ve slipped out of your pocket and straight into mine, I guess."

"It slipped from my back pocket into your back pocket by accident?" I asked, looking at him incredulously.

"Believe me, I’m just as surprised as you are."

I opened it and checked the money compartment, but nothing seemed to be missing.

"Don’t worry, I didn’t take anything, I only scratched a Hitler-beard into your ID-photo with my knife," Lee said.

"You fucking what?!" I gasped. "Wait, you couldn't have, because I still have your knife," I said, frowning.

"Do you now?" he asked, pouting a little and squinting with one eye.

"Jesus, what else did you steal?" I asked and tried to check his other pockets, but he backed away and looked at me with a scared expression.

"Nothing! I swear to god!" he said anxiously.

"Fine," I sighed.

"You can keep my clothes as compensation for your troubles, ok?"

"You mean your piss and puke-soaked clothes?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"About that. I tried flushing them down the toilet earlier and it really clogged it up good and then I had to take a really huge shit, so it's quite the fucking mess in there."

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped angrily.

"Bye bye now," he said and hurried to the door.

Once I had heard him leaving I checked the bathroom, but everything seemed to be in perfect order, even his clothes were neatly folded and stacked on the edge of the tub and the toilet was fine too. He did, however, write „For your troubles“ on the mirror with toothpaste and on the little shelf below it there was about $250 in small bills, a couple of dollars in change, an unwrapped condom, a bunch of loose weed and a half-eaten beef jerky.

It took me over an hour to clean up the mess he had made and then I kept myself busy working till late into the night.

The next couple of days I felt lonelier than ever for some reason and despite our rather tumultuous first encounter I kind of missed having Lee around. I thought about checking in with him, to make sure he was alright, but I didn't know if he even wanted to see me again, so I stayed away.

On Friday, in the evening, the door bell suddenly rang and when I opened it Lee was standing outside with a cast around his arm and still wearing the same clothes I had given him almost a week ago.

"Hey, wanna sign my cast or something?" he asked quietly and without looking at me.

"Sure," I replied, smiling, and let him in.

We both headed to the living room and sat down next to each other on the couch.

"Don’t write something fucked up like I love you with all my heart forever and ever till I die and beyond or some gay shit like that, got it?" he said.

"Why would I write I love you if I barely know you?" I asked with a slight frown and a grin.

"My point exactly," he replied and I had to chuckle.

"Can I draw something too?" I asked.

"You can put your cock on it and trace it with fucking glitter for all I care," he answered dismissively.

"Alright, give me a couple of minutes."

"Whatever the fuck," he mumbled.

I quickly went to my desk to get some pens and then I started to draw on his cast.

"I'm finished," I said after about 15 minutes.

He looked at the drawing and frowned deeply.

"What the fuck is this shit?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

"A friendly raccoon?" I answered, smiling at him sheepishly.

"You should’ve traced your fucking cock with glitter!"

"So you don’t like it?" I asked, somewhat disappointed.

"No, I do, it's fucking amazing, but now I have to be careful not to get it dirty and keep the cast once they cut it off. You're such a fucking piece of shit!" he said and then he shook his head and sighed.

"And you’re welcome," I replied, grinning.

"God! How did you learn to draw like this anyway?"

"I taught myself. I'm a cartoonist, you know?"

"Why?"

"Why the fuck not? It‘s fun and something I’d do for free."

"You can’t make a lot of money drawing stupid shit like this."

"Well, I can afford the same apartment you do."

"That’s kind of my point, motherfucker. I mean, have you been outside at night yet? Because if you haven’t, I’d suggest you strap on a bullet proof vest and lube up your asshole first."

"I don’t go out at night, period."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" he asked, frowning at me.

"I'm afraid of the dark. I haven’t even slept with the lights off in like a decade," I answered, looking at the floor, somewhat embarrassed.

"Why?"

"I kind of got buried alive once."

"Holy shit! How did you escape?" he said, wide-eyed, sounding both alarmed and amazed.

"I stole something from one of the guys who wanted to make me disappear and when he realized it he dug me back up, I sucker-punched him in the sack and then I bolted."

"Why the fuck did they want to make you disappear?"

"They did some violent, fucked up shit to me and when they were done they thought I was going to die."

"Oh, I see, that makes perfect sense then. Where are they now? I mean, did you take revenge on them Kill-Bill-style?"

"No, I was homeless at the time, so I had bigger problems to deal with."

"Being homeless is not that bad, you’re just a spoiled fucking bitch, that’s all."

"Maybe," I sighed.

"I'm tired now from all your god damn yippity yapping. I need to lie down, so get off the fucking couch, motherfucker, ok?" he said in a demanding tone.

"Fine, I guess I'll bring a chair over," I replied as I was getting off the couch.
"No," he said and grabbed me by the arm. "You may sit on the floor right next to me."

"Oh may I? Really? Right there on the fucking floor? Gosh, today must be my lucky day," I replied, smirking.

"Go fuck yourself instead then! How about that, motherfucker?!" he said, glaring at me.

"I’m just joking. Jesus!" I answered and then I took a seat on the floor in front of the couch. Lee lay down and after a couple of seconds he started to very gently brush through my hair. It gave me goosebumps for some reason and I tried to move as little as possible.

"Can I touch your hair?" he asked about a minute later.

"I think you already are," I replied, grinning.

"Why do you always have to be such a fucking piece of shit, huh?" he asked indignantly.

I laughed.

"Eww, I should really disinfect my hand," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"For your information, my hair is very clean, alright?" I said, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"I know, but I just threw dog-shit at someone and my hand still fucking reeks."

"Jesus! Tell me you're fucking joking!" I said, alarmed.

"Joking? How is that even supposed to be funny?"

"It’s not!" I replied forcefully.

"I think you just answered your own stupid fucking question."

I quickly went through my hair and then smelled my hand, but it didn’t smell like shit.

"Of course, you were just fucking with me, as always," I said, shaking my head, grinning.

"Hey, it’s really not my fault that you’re such dumb piece of shit, you know?" he replied matter-of-factly.

"Why do you always have to insult me?" I asked, slightly frowning.

"Another excellent question!" he said with cheerfulness in his voice.

"Seriously, you haven’t said a single nice thing to me yet, not even a thank you."

"Do I look like some kind of cheap crack-whore to you? Because I don’t suck your fucking cock, neither literally nor figuratively, ok?" he said, glaring at me again.

"You would’ve sucked my dick last week if I had let you, remember?"

He looked at me with a hurt expression and quickly turned around.

"I’m sorry, that was uncalled for," I said, feeling really guilty, but he didn’t respond. "Come on, you’re saying worse shit to me all the time," I added. Still no response and then I heard a sniffle. "Jesus, are you crying? I’m so fucking sorry! Please let me make it up to you, I'll do anything you want!" I said, both distraught and concerned.

He turned his head and glared at me.

"Why the fuck do you even care?" he asked with some anger and resentment in his voice.

"I don’t know, I just do."

"But why?! What are you getting out of this? Because if you want to fuck me JUST FUCKING DO IT ALREADY!" he yelled desperately and tears were streaming down his face.

"I’M NOT GOING TO FUCK YOU, I'M NEVER GOING TO FUCK YOU, I JUST WANT TO GIVE YOU THE BREAK NO ONE GAVE ME, YOU UNGEATEFUL LITTLE SHIT!" I screamed and then my face contorted and I started to cry myself. He immediately jumped up and wrapped his arms around me.

"I’m sorry," I whispered shakily.

"It’s ok, I’m sorry too," he replied and stroked my back.

I stayed in his arms and cried for what felt like a long time, but eventually I pulled myself together and let go.

"Thank you," I said wholeheartedly.

"Shut the fuck up, I don’t even know what those weird sounding words even mean exactly, ok?" he replied, raising both his chin and one of his eyebrows.

"You don’t know what the word 'you' means?" I asked, smirking.

"It means that you’re a piece of shit!" he answered forcefully.

I laughed and he had to chuckle too.

"You are adorable," I said, smiling. "Not in a sexual way though!" I quickly added.

"So you don’t think I’m sexy?" he asked sadly and looked down.

"Of course you are. I’m just saying that I’m not interesting in you that way, alright?"

"Why the fuck not?" he replied, squinting at me.

"Maybe I’m not gay, ever thought of that?"

He laughed.

"No, I haven’t, because I knew you were a fag the second I saw you."

"What? How?" I asked, surprised and confused.

"Because you just told me, you dumb bitch."

"Jesus," I gasped, shaking my head, but I still had to grin. "You’re gay too though, right?" I asked.

"What? No! I’m not a fucking fag! Gross!" he replied indignantly.

"So you think I’m gross?" I asked, slightly frowning.

"Obviously! Or why else do you think I'm calling you a piece of shit all the time, huh?"

"Oh," I said somewhat taken aback and looked away.

"God damn, you really are dumb as dog-shit, aren't you?" he said, sounding both incredulous and annoyed.

"What? So you were just fucking with me again? Jesus!" I replied and had to chuckle.

"Congrats, you cracked the case, Sherlock Homo."

"And you are gay too, right?"

"Fuck no, I’ve never felt like kissing a dude and I really don’t enjoy getting fucked up the ass or having someone brick into my mouth, I’m quite fucking positive about that."

"Have you been with girls then?"

"I guess?"

"You’re not sure?" I asked, puzzled.

"Well, when you’re lying in a crack-house all cranked out, sometimes there are crazed junkie-broads around that want to fuck while getting high, and they’re not exactly asking for permission, they just pull down your pants, suck you hard and then they go to town on your cock. That happened to me a couple of times, but I’m not sure if it counts."

"Me neither... Were you enjoying getting fucked by girls though?"

"Did you not understand my fucking story?" he asked sarcastically.

"I'm sorry," I replied, chuckling. "So are you saying you never had a positive sexual experience?"

"Well, when I was six my dog licked my asshole once. That was kind of nice."

"Jesus, that’s fucked up, even by your standards," I replied and had to chuckle again.

"Says the mouth-rapist of Simmons street!"

"Anyway! Even if you've never had a good experience, you must know whether you’re attracted to boys or girls. I mean, what do you fantasize about when you're jerking off?"

"Usually my dog licking my asshole."

"Is it a male or a female dog?"

He burst out laughing.

"Now THAT‘S fucked up!" he said forcefully.

"I'm sorry," I replied, chuckling myself. "I'm just curious."

"What difference does it make? You think there's a chance that we‘re becoming boyfriends? Because I’d rather get fucked by a dog than you, ok?"

"Oh, that makes me feel so good inside," I said, trying to sound cheerful.

He laughed really hard.

"Listen," he replied once he had pulled himself together. "I stop liking people who are fucking me, so just shut the fuck up, you bitch, got it?" he said insistently.

"So you like me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows in surprise.

"God, do I fucking stutter?!" he answered, sounding annoyed.

"No fucking ever, got it. And I like you too by the way."

"Oh really? How wonderful! This solves all my problems! Let‘s dance!" he said excitedly.
"You're such a dick," I replied, chuckling.

"Excuse me? Set your place on fucking fire you say?" he asked, squinting at me.

"No! I'm sorry, alright?"

"Whatever the fuck," he mumbled and then he lay back down on the couch. I made myself comfortable on the floor too and a few seconds later he started to carefully stroke my hair again.

"Hey, have you noticed that you say 'Jesus' a whole fucking lot?" he asked after a little while.

"Yes, I also say fuck a whole fucking lot and so do you, what of it?"

"It’s not nice to take the son of god's name in vain, you know?"

"You say 'god!' all the fucking time. Isn’t that the same thing but worse?"

"No, it‘s completely different."

"Why?"

"Because you’re a piece of shit, that's why!" he said with spite in his voice.

"Anyway! Do you believe in Jesus?" I asked.

"Obviously. I mean, I believe when I arrive in heaven Jesus will greet me with open arms and then he’ll go down on his knees and suck my fucking cock."

"That’s really fucking crude," I replied, laughing.

"Ehm, for your information, I will be very respectful and shoot my load all over his face instead of into his mouth. I’m a gentleman like that, you know?" he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I’m sure Jesus will be thrilled."

"God, I’m not a fucking fag like you, remember? So it’s all meant as an allegory or whatever, obviously!" he replied and rolled his eyes at me.

"Of course, the imagery is quite beautiful," I said, smirking.

"You know, you should really go fuck yourself!" he answered, sounding irritated.

"Obviously," I said with a grin and winked at him.

"Are you fucking mocking me, motherfucker?!" he asked, glaring.

"Hey, imitation is the highest form of flattery."

"And you're the highest form of a piece of shit!"

"Obviously!"

"Oh my god, I will fucking stab you to death, motherfucker!"

"No you won’t."

"What!?" he asked, looking at me wide-eyed.

"You won’t hurt me. Obviously."

"Oh really?! Well, watch this, motherfucker!"

He pulled out his knife, walked over to my TV and started stabbing the screen.

"Jesus!" I gasped. "Fine, I’m sorry, alright?!"

"Duly noted," he mumbled. Next he turned around, scratched an X into my glass table and when he stomped on it the whole thing shattered into a million pieces.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I yelled, completely shocked.

"Don’t worry, I can see myself out."

"What? Where are you going?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?!" he replied incredulously.

"Why are you leaving?"

"I’m not leaving, I’m fleeing the scene of the fucking crime! Did you not watch me as I instructed you to?"

"I don’t care that you destroyed my stuff."

"Why the fuck not?!" he asked, sounding both angry and flabbergasted.

"Well, I made fun of you, so I guess I kind of deserved it."

"No, you did not fucking deserve that! Holy fucking shit! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yelled furiously, glaring at me the whole time.

I didn't know what to say and just lowered my head. He sighed and then he walked over to the couch, lay back down and started to brush through my hair again.

"You know, I think I've misjudged you," he said calmly after about a minute.

"So you no longer think I’m a piece of shit?" I asked, surprised.

"Don’t be fucking gross!" he answered with a frown.

"Sorry," I replied, grinning.

He kept stroking me and we didn't talk for a while. At some point he laid his arm around my neck and gently pulled me towards me. I leaned against the couch and he kissed the top of my head. It gave me chills and we stayed close together like that for what felt like at least an hour. Eventually he let go of me and I sat up properly again.

"I think I'll get going now," he said as he was sitting up too. "I’m just not comfortable here. I mean, no offence, but I’ve been to crack-houses that looked nicer than this shithole."

"I agree, it looks even worse than after your last visit and that's really saying something," I replied, smirking.

"I wasn’t asking for your opinion, you whiny fucking bitch!" he said, slightly glaring.

"How would you feel if I'd come to your apartment and trash the whole place?" I asked and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"The WHOLE place?! I didn’t trash your WHOLE place! The couch doesn’t seem damaged," he said indignantly and then he pulled out his knife, stabbed it into the couch and cut a large hole into it.

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped.

"What do you know, I stand corrected."

"What the fuck?!" I yelled, frowning.

"Relax yourself, motherfucker! I'm just kidding. God!" he replied, rolling his eyes at me again.

"How is this supposed to be a fucking joke?!" I asked, incredulous.

"Go fuck yourself, that‘s how!" he answered forcefully.

"Jesus," I sighed.

"You're such a drama queen, always overreacting and getting hysterical like some kind of crazed bitch!" he said with a lot of annoyance in his voice.

"Yes, that‘s right, I’m the one who’s crazed and keeps overreacting!" I replied sarcastically.

"I'm glad we finally agree on something. Now, let me leave you some cheddar to fix up this fucking shithole. It‘s my way of giving you back some dignity," he said and then he pulled out a stack of cash and started swiping bills into my face.

"What‘s this?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

He stopped and put the money back into his pocket.

"That should cover things. And don’t worry, the person this belonged to hung himself to death... Well, I mean, not ALL by himself, but you know, shit happens when you're a kid-fucker and one kid you fucked grows up and decides it’s his turn to have some fun on a certain someone’s expense."

"Jesus, what if there are witnesses or if you left fingerprints?" I asked, shocked and alarmed.

"Why would you just assume that I’m talking about myself, motherfucker?! Because murder just fits the bill so fucking perfectly?!" he replied, glaring at me and sounding outraged and defensive.

"I'm sorry. So who the fuck killed that guy you stole the money from?"

"Stole?! Fuck you! God, my father left this to me in his will and believe me, I fucking earned every dirty fucking penny of it, ok, you fucking piece of shit?!" he answered aggressively.

"It was your father who died? I’m so sorry," I said, raising my eyebrows and feeling both sad and guilty.

"I’m not, because I’ve just been to the morgue to see his body and I finally got to cut off his fucking cock. It was the most tender father-son moment we’ve ever shared."

"What a lovely story," I replied, shaking my head.

He burst out laughing.

"Trust me, it was probably the least fucked up shit I’ve ever done with his fucking cock," he said matter-of-factly.

"Jesus Christ! I’m so fucking sorry!" I answered, distraught and upset.

"Whatever the fuck, God!" he mumbled under his breath.

"What did you do with his dick?"

"Set it on fire, obviously. Here, say hi to daddy," he replied and then he pulled out a tied up condom filled with what looked like ashes.

"Jesus, why the fuck did you keep this?" I asked, shocked and incredulous.

"So I can use it as a stress ball? In any case, see you around," he said.

We both got up and he started to head to the door.

"Don’t you want to stay for dinner?" I quickly asked.

"Do I look like your fucking boyfriend? Because if I do, ask yourself, would your boyfriend do this?" he replied and then he pulled out his knife again, stabbed one of my framed drawings, shattering the glass in the process, and as he tried to cut it, it fell off the wall and crashed into my lava lamp, making it drop to the floor and shatter too.

"Jesus!" I gasped.

"Bye bye now," Lee said cheerfully and as he was walking to the door he kept throwing money over his shoulder.

Once he was gone I collected all the bills and shook my head, grinning, when it turned out to be over $3000.

I decided not to use the money just yet, in case Lee might need it after all. Instead I tried to fix the damage as well as I could myself, like sowing the couch back together and putting wooden boards on the broken glass table.

The next few days I couldn't stop thinking about Lee and I was really missing him. I still wasn't sure how he felt about me though, so I didn't want to make him uncomfortable by showing up at his apartment uninvited.

On Monday, around three in the afternoon, the door bell suddenly rang and I hurried over to answer it. My eyes widened and I covered my mouth with my hand when I saw Lee standing there, because his face was bloody and swollen and his clothes, that he still hadn't changed after more than a week, were dirty, ripped and blood-smeared too.

"What happened?" I gasped, both alarmed and deeply concerned.

He just came in, walked straight to the couch and lay down with his back to me.

"Do you need something?" I asked. He didn't respond, so I got a blanket from my bedroom and carefully covered him with it. Next I brought my drawing-pad and other utensils to the coffee table and then I took a seat on the floor right beside Lee and started to work on some sketches.

In the evening I made him a sandwich, put the plate in front of him and sat back down. After a couple of minutes I heard him eating it and smiled to myself. About an hour later he finally turned around and brushed through my hair.

"I hate your couch. It‘s a piece of shit, just like you," he said, somewhat hoarsely. I had to chuckle and felt relieved that he apparently was well enough to joke around again.

"What don’t you like about it?" I asked with a smirk.

"It‘s not big enough. I mean, look at you sitting on the floor like some stupid fucking bitch."

"I don’t mind sitting on the floor."

"That’s not the fucking point, you god damn piece of shit!" he replied angrily, but still kept stroking my hair.

"You could sleep in my bed if you want. It’s much bigger," I said and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Don‘t be gross. I'd probably catch AIDS or something," he replied dismissively.

"I could change the sheets and I wouldn’t sleep in the bed with you of course."

"And where the fuck would you sleep instead?"

"On the couch?"

"Did we not just fucking establish that this couch is a piece of shit, just like you or possibly even worse?!" he asked, glaring.

"So where am I supposed to sleep then?"

"In your fucking bed, obviously!" he answered and gave me a very light smack on the head.

"So you want us both to sleep in my bed?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

"God damn, I wish I could fucking stab you right now!" he replied, sounding frustrated and annoyed, and then he sighed.

"But I can only sleep with the lights on," I said, looking at the floor.

"Yes, I know, you told me and I’m not some brain damaged fucking bitch like you. God!"

"So you..."

"Shut the fuck up! If you ask me one more stupid fucking question I will set this place on fire, I swear to god!" he replied warningly.

"You know, I've actually changed the sheets this morning, so my bed is ready for you to sleep in whenever you are, alright?"

"Ok," he answered and then he slowly got up, moaning in pain. "Are you coming?" he asked, looking at me with a sheepish expression.

"Sure, if you want," I answered as I was getting up too. We both went to my bedroom, lay down together under the same blanket and Lee cuddled himself against me. He fell asleep right away and after a little while so did I.

In the morning I was woken by Lee's snoring again and immediately had to smile. I had a lot of work that needed to be done, so I tried to get out of bed as carefully as possible, but Lee still woke up anyway.

"Where the fuck are you going?" he moaned.

"I need to go to work."

"No, you’re working for me now," he replied and then he pulled out a stack of money and starting swiping bills in my face. "There, now lie your ass the fuck back down, you bitch," he said when he was done.

"You can’t buy me, you know?" I said, slightly frowning at him

"Please?" he asked meekly.

"Sure," I answered, nodding, and lay back down. He turned sideways and then he put his head on my stomach, grabbed my hand and started to play with it.
"How much longer can I stay here?" he asked after about a minute.

"As long as you want."

"What if I never want to leave again?"

"Then don’t."

"Fine, if you insist. I have rent covered, and weed, and food. What else do we need? You probably go through a lot of dildos every week, huh?"

"You can’t pay for everything."

"Wanna bet your fucking cock, motherfucker?!" he asked, squinting at me.

"Why do you want to anyway?"

"So I don’t have to feel as bad about being such a fucking lunatic all the time," he replied with some sadness in his voice.

"You feel bad about that?" I asked, taken aback a bit.

"Do you want me to burn this place to the fucking ground? Is that what you’re really fucking asking me?" he replied warningly.

"No. I'm sorry," I answered, chuckling.

"You know, when I trashed your place the other day, that was just a test to see how much of an asshole you are. You get that, don't you?" he said, looking at my hand that he was still playing with.

"I guess. So how much of an asshole am I?"

"About a 9.5."

"Out of 10?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"No, out of go fuck yourself!" he answered forcefully.

"That doesn’t sound like I passed the test though."

"Out of a thousand, ok? God, you’re such a fucking piece of shit!" he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Wow, that’s very flattering. My score I mean. Being called a fucking piece of shit for the 100th time today is much less flattering of course."

"When I call you a piece of shit or something, you know that I’m just kidding, don’t you?" he asked, sounding both insecure and apologetic.

"Yes, it‘s fucking hilarious," I answered, smirking.
"God damn, why the fuck do you have to be like this, huh?" he asked in an accusatory tone.

"I'm just trying to be as adorable as you."

"You couldn’t be adorable even if you'd cut a puppy's face off and then stapled it onto yours," he said matter-of-factly.

"What if I’d stable its tail to my ass too though? That would be kind of cute, right?"

He laughed really hard.

"I guess," he said.

We didn't talk for a while and Lee kept playing with my hand. Suddenly he kissed the palm of it and then put it on his chest.

"What was that for?" I asked, both moved and surprised.

"What was what for? You just punched me in the fucking face, you bitch!" he replied, slightly glaring at me.

"Of course I did. Sorry about that," I said with a smirk.

"Hey, can I bring hookers over and fuck them in your bed?"

"Well, it’s not something I would put on my list of hopes and dreams, but it wouldn’t make me throw you out, I guess."

"What’s number six on your list of hopes and dreams?"

"To avoid death by a surprising but not unexpected apartment fire?"

"What’s number one?"

"I don't know, I was able to cross it off recently."

"Oh really? Was it mouth-raping an adorable neighbor with a heart of gold and the voice of an angel, huh?"

"No, it had nothing to do with you, you little creep," I replied and had to chuckle. Lee turned serious and looked away.

"I know, I was just kidding," he said sadly.

"Yes, me too, because it had everything to do with you, obviously," I replied, grinning.

"What?" he asked, frowning a me in confusion.

"You heard me, creep," I replied, pouting a bit.

"You call me creep one more fucking time, motherfucker!" he said warningly.

"And then what, you cry like a dumb little bitch, huh?"

"What the fuck is happening right now?" he asked, sounding both indignant and flabbergasted.

"You figure it out, creepmeister."

"Ok, let’s see. The apartment is basically mine now, so I can’t trash it, and I can’t stab you or anything either, because you’re like my pet or whatever. So I guess there’s nothing I can do about this… Hm, seems like you’ve fucked me after all!"

"Well, did you enjoy it?" I asked, smirking.

He laughed.

"I mean, to put it in dumb-ass-bitch-terms, yes, second best sex ever!" he said wholeheartedly and we both had to smile.