Justin was concentrating very hard as he drew the eighty-third white beet with great diligence on his paper. He smiled. He liked white beet. It was prince food. “Oh Justin, how beautiful.” Miss Peterson walked over to Justin’s table and looked on his picture with a kind expression. “Maybe you would like to color the little fishes, too?” With encouragement, she shuffled the basket with the color crayons closer to his place. “Orange sure would be the right color for-” A quiet ringing sound could be heard and she said a polite excuse me before disappearing to her desk in search for the cell phone between all the patient documents. Justin looked after her with anger, gave the crayon basket a little push and leaned protectively over his picture. Miss Eterson was a little dumb. Of course one wouldn’t need any colored crayons to draw white beet. “Hey, how you are doing? Any problems with Gus?” The therapist tried to hold her voice quiet and neutral while she watched from a distance over her patients. “Of course. But don’t give him too much of it. Okay. Have fun you two. See you later. Bye.” She smiled at her cell phone, put it away and walked back to Justin’s place where dozens of crayons were lying dispersed on and under the table. “Oh, what a pity.” She bent down to fish for the bright blue pen, lying under another patient’s chair. “But look, we just put them all back and then I’ll help you to color your pretty fishes.” Justin growled. He really didn’t like Miss Eterson. ”””””””””””””””””””””””””””” “What’s Mommy saying? What’s she saying?” Gus bounced up and down beside his father, while Brian put the phone back on the station. “She said quit jumping like a basketball. That’s bad for your legs.” The boy beamed at his father. “You’re just making fun of me! Mommy says jumping is good to build muscles!” He demonstrated another 20-centimeter jump out of a standing position. “Like a kangaroo!” Brian stopped his son by grabbing him on the shoulders. “But it’s bad for my freshly laid Milan hardwood floor. So stop it.” Christ, he really wasn’t made to baby-sit a four year old. “And now come on. Your mom said you are allowed to try the chili.” “Yes! I want two plates of it! Big ones!” Gus bounced away in the direction of the kitchen and quickly climbed on one of the high chairs at the bar, while his father put the left-overs of the Mexican food into the microwave. “Gus, first go wash your hands.” The boy grumbled, but climbed from the chair again before bouncing away to the bathroom. “And no jumping anymore!” The microwave ringed. Brian put the plate on the kitchen bar and placed a half glass of water beside it with three napkins and a small spoon. Gus came running back and again climbed to his place. “Clean!” He held up his small hands for inspection and after that grabbed for the cutlery. “Eat slowly and if it’s too spicy, just stop eating.” Gus chewed with full cheeks. “It’s not spicy.” “Okay.” Brian threw a few things in the sink, wiped over the desk and then sat down opposite his son. Gus scooped the meal hungrily into his mouth and drank a big sip of water with red smeared lips. “Hot?” The boy shook his head. Brian nodded with just a hint of fatherly pride. That definitely was the Irish genes coming through. “So, what do you want to do until your mom comes to pick you up?” “Hmm.” Gus looked up to the roof as he thought, all the while chewing along. “Handicraft work.” Brian cocked his ‘Please come again’ eyebrow. “Handicraft work?” No such word existed in his vocabulary. Gus nodded seriously and looked at his father with big puppy dog eyes. “What about TV?” Brian suggested as awful pictures of liters of glue, cute Styrofoam balls and colored paper-stripes appeared in front of his inner eye. He never was one for handicraft work, not even in preschool. “No, I prefer handicraft work.” Gus licked his lips and smeared the red equally. “A necklace for mom.” “Necklace.” Mister Kinney stared blank at the kid. That definitely was the lesbian genes coming through. “Yeah and also one for mama and Auntie Emmett.” “Emmett isn’t your aunt. He’s my…” Brian searched for a butch term to describe his house cleaner, but all he could come up with was… “…my maid.” The boy nodded understanding and spooned his meal along. “Okay.” “Hmm.” Brian watched his son for a moment. “And which items do you plan on using to build all these necklaces?” “Noodles.” The son answered as if it were obvious. “In kindergarten we always make handicraft work necklaces with noodles. I’m an experter with noodles.” “An expert with noodles.” “And the very best, too!” Confirmed Gus. “But I don’t have any noodles.” Gus smiled brightly. “Daddy! You’re making fun again.” “Right. Daddy isn’t in the mood to stick noodles on a string. Let’s watch TV.” “Daddy!” Gus giggled. “You don’t need glue for noodle necklaces! You have to knot the noodles! With cord!” “With cord.” Brian locked suspicious at the boy. “No glue?” Gus shook his head. Hmm. Brian’s gaze wandered to a small bowl of collected farfalle-pasta. Well, as long as it wouldn’t make any mess on his sinfully expensive coffee table, he could give it a chance. ”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””” Shortly after 5:00 pm, the door rang and Brian opened with much more enthusiasm then usual. “You’re late.” “Only five minutes.” Lindsay stepped in and gave the man an indulgently kiss on his cheek. “Was he strenuous?” “Not after the second joint.” Brian joked and without asking, took a crumpled piece of paper out of her hand. “You let your class draw colored sperm?” “Brian!” She laughed and clapped him scolding on his arm. “That isn’t sperm. These are fishes. One of my new patients has painted it.” Brian turned the paper around and frowned. “Fishes?” “Yeah. He’s a lovely boy, though he’s a little stubborn. I tried to help him color the fishes orange and afterwards he didn’t want the picture anymore.” “Hmm.” Brian shrugged again. “He probably just knows that sperm isn’t orange.” Lindsay rolled her eyes and entered the living room to greet her son. “Hey sweetie. Did you have fun with daddy?” “Yes!” Gus came running with a long butterfly noodle necklace in his hand. “We did handicrafts.” “Really?” She threw an amused gaze to the man in the doorframe. “Who would have thought that.” “We didn’t do handicrafts.” Brian stalked off and walked over to the fridge for a small beer to calm him down because he really felt uncomfortable. “We knotted noodles on a fucking cord. That’s all.” “And how beautiful you’ve made that!” she smiled and laid the yellow pasta jewelry carefully around her neck, before bending down to give Gus a kiss. “Just wonderful my little lamb.” Brian rolled his eyes and took a big sip of his beer. He then began to plan to register his son as soon as possible in the next extremely butch soccer club. There definitely was a masculine influence missing. ””””””””””””””””””””””””” Justin had eaten his supper, showered in foamy soap and put on his bright, dark blue checkered pajama suit. He had fallen asleep right after the good night greeting on Channel 4 and a last longing gaze out the window at 8:17 pm with the blanket tugged up to the tip of his nose and the book secure under his pillow. Exactly like the last evenings. But then something unfamiliar happened. In the middle of the night his eyes suddenly opened and he didn’t felt tired anymore. But it was only 2:31 am on his alarm clock and still dark outside. Hmm. Justin pushed a few blonde strands out of his face as he began thinking. Maybe his eyes were broken? He blinked three times testing. No, they still worked. Was he hungry? He felt his belly. No didn’t think so. After a moment he looked over to his nightstand and detected the red plastic cup. Plake had put it there. Then he remembered. He was thirsty! “Hh!” He sighed and clapped himself on his forehead. Sometimes he really was stupid. He sat up under his blanket, grabbed the cup and tried to drink, but nothing ran into his mouth. Hmm. Surprised he looked in it. “Hh!” He was horrified. It was empty. There was… “… no water inside.” Oh oh. Nervous he looked to the door. It was dark and closed; he knew Plake wouldn’t come no matter how long he would shout out for him. He tried it anyway. Two times. “Plake.” He said loud and then followed it with a fast reproving, “Shh!” He went back to whispering the name quietly another time. It still was bedtime and he didn’t want to wake the whole world. He waited for a few minutes on his knees in bed with his gaze on the door, but the male nurse didn’t appear. “No, no never.” Justin was sure. He shook his head and then grabbed his book from under the pillow. “Such big teeth.” He spoke in a deep voice while turning the pages. He stopped at the story of Little Red Riding Hood. He whined a little as he looked at the grey pictures illuminated only by the lumpish street light before finally rubbing his finger over the picture of a small basket. A little bottle lay inside. Now it looked almost black, but Justin knew that it would be green again after the sun rose. He liked the green bottle and wanted the same. He was really… “…thirsty.” He sat there a little while with his book, before turning his head to the window. It burbled from the pane and Justin knew why. Plake already had showed him after the good night greeting. “Rain.” The boy crawled off the mattress and walked over to the window. It was only opened a slit, but Justin knew how to open it completely. “Pull, pull.” He said and pulled at the handle exactly like Plake did. In an instant the cold air and the whole night was in his tower room. “Like clouds.” He sniffed outside and blinked as a thick droplet hit his face. He liked rain. It was so cold and wet and always tasted different. He bent further outside, tilted his head and tried to catch a drop with his tongue. It was very difficult, but he laughed proudly and bounced a little when his lips got wet. He licked them with pleasure. Mmh. Today it was… “… puddle-taste.” He opened his mouth to get more of it. He was really… “… thirsty.” Two minutes later his face was wet but he still was thirsty. So he walked back to his bed and got his red cup, which he had left there. It still was empty, so he carried it to the open window and held it out side. It sounded funny as the drumming drops hit the cup and Justin giggled. “Puddle water.” Sometimes he really was clever. After a few minutes though, his arm got heavy and he whined quietly because the cup took too long to get full. “Long, long.” He moved his wrist up and down, stretched his cold fingers around the wet cup and- “Oh oh!” He looked down into the darkness where his red cup immediately disappeared into dark nothing. For a moment he only stood there and looked down. There was nothing to hear or see. The cup was gone. “Of course on the ground.” Without even thinking he turned away from the open window and plodded barefoot to the door. “Of course down on the ground.” He went out to the hallway, blinked a little against the brightness there and walked with small steps past the ward room. “Not Pla-ake.” He whispered as he saw sleeping male nurse Schmidt in his observation position and marched along unchecked. He was really thirsty and wanted his cup back with all the… “… puddle-water.” The stairs were cold under his bare feet and he was even a little anxious now. Everything was so quiet and he was the only man in the tower. He really wanted to hurry. “Fast, fast.” He said, but walked along in the same speed. Right to the exit. The big door was heavy and made a load noise when he opened it, but Justin managed it and padded down the stone stairs to the outside. It still rained and he looked fascinated up to the black sky. He really wondered where the rain came from at night because he couldn’t see clouds. The drops were wet and cold on his face and he opened his mouth wide and put his tongue out so he could drink more. But then his neck began to hurt and he wasn’t in the mood anymore. He preferred to have his… “ …cup.” With splashing steps on the wet asphalt he walked down to the gateway, his gaze always on the ground. Past the big iron gate, over totally different stones with slits and some stairs down on the black road with the thick white stripes. He would have called for the cup, but he didn’t know its name. ””””””””””””””””””””””””””” Brian wasn’t in his best mood. The night at Babylon wasn’t nearly as satisfying as planed. Mikey had whined about some unimportant ‘relationship-problems’ and the second hand trick he finally took home as a generous substitute had turned out to be a true chatterbox, wherefore he was one step away from throwing his bugging passenger out of the car. “And then he wanted me to go with him, even though I’ve told him a thousand times how much I hate this fucking potter-class!” The nameless man in his passenger seat said in disgust, gesticulating wildly and finally thudding hard with his forehead against the front window as Brian tried with squeaking wheels to stop his Jeep in time. “Shit!” Brian heard the impact clear and obvious, even if he had lost all his focus. “Fuck!” His passenger held his hurting head for a moment. “Fucking idiot!” He didn’t even need 20 seconds to push the car door open before he was totally out of his mind and jumping out of the car. “What the hell is your problem, asshole?! Do you want to kill us? Fuck!” ””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””” Justin tried to stand up. The ground was hard and wet and all the bright lights hurt his eyes. But his legs were all squashy and he felt dizzy. Something had bitten him on his belly and now it hurt everywhere and his head buzzed and was heavy. He really would’ve preferred to have his… “…book.” Brian needed a moment to collect himself. He’d hit the wheel hard, and now touched his aching forehead, but it didn’t seem to bleed. In front of the car stood his trick. He was shouting like a raving loony at somebody who Brian couldn’t see. He shut his eyes and swore. Shit, this was in fact the perfect end to a perfect night. He was a little clumsy as he pushed his door open and stepped outside. Cold rain drummed on him and it calmed his sore face. Slowly he walked around the car and recognized the huddled figure on the asphalt in front of his bumper. Thin, blonde and obviously a little confused, in search for a book, while the nameless trick tried to pull him roughly on his feet. “What’s up with you, are you dumb or something?! Clear the road before I call the police!” Justin made himself stiff and began to whine. The evil man was loud, his book wasn’t there, and everything ached, bit, and burned. “Christ.” Brian blinked against the rain, cuddled his jacket around his body tighter and pushed his screaming passenger aside. “Shit, fucking idiot! He’s probably hurt!” “Who cares? The sick fuck is too dumb to cross the street, fucking shit! He could have killed us all!” Brian bent down and carefully touched the boy on his shoulder. “Hey, everything okay? Does something hurt?” Did it? Justin pulled his head up from the wet street pavement and looked to his hand. It was red and glibbery and his fingers throbbed so loudly that it was hard to handle. That didn’t happen before and it was scary and his eyes got watery. “It’s okay, it’s only a scratch.” Brian took Justin’s thin wrist and looked at the graze which was across his small fingers. It wasn’t deep but it needed to be cleaned. Slowly he touched along the boy’s body, but didn’t found apparent wounds. He looked at the thin face in the headlights. White skin, red lips, wet blonde hair and big blue eyes that looked at him helplessly. He showed a small smile. “Do you remember me?” The boy cried quietly. He really would’ve preferred to go to… “…Plake.” “No. Brian. Can you stand up?” Justin licked his lips. They tasted like puddle-water. He was really… “…thirsty.” “Your name’s Justin, right?” Brian surprised himself with that statement. Normally he didn’t memorize names as a matter of principle. Justin blinked and looked up at the face above him. It was the prince. Without crown and sword but with beautiful eyes and rain on his nose. “Prian.” Brian frowned. “Brian.” Justin smiled thinly. “Dream of Prian.” He was then scared terribly as he saw the huge black vehicle directly in front of him. It was so close that he could smell its huge wheels. “Hh!” Brian laid an arm behind Justin’s back and tugged him up carefully. “Come on, you can’t stay here.” The boy clung himself to the prince’s jacket and whined. His legs were itching, his head felt so heavy and he wanted to … “… drink much water.” “You’re thirsty?” Brian heaved Justin who was toddling and totally wet from head to toe. He guided him to the sidewalk. “Stay here. I’ll drive the car off the street.” Justin stayed put and rocked back and forth. He felt cold and everything ached and he didn’t knew where his cup was. “Great!” The nameless trick gestured furious around as Brian drove the jeep to the side, stepped out and immediately went back to Justin. “What about me? I thought we had plans!” Brian stopped and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Do you have a cell phone?” “Yeah.” The trick hesitated and then fished his mobile phone out of his pocket, ready to exchange numbers. “Sure.” “Great. Call yourself a cab.” At this point Mister Kinney was beyond exchanging anything nice or polite. It wasn’t enough that he had never experienced a more unsatisfying night at Babylon. No, he also has to struggle with the idea of a report of negligent bodily injury now. If the cops found out about his intensive conversation with a certain Anita an hour ago, he would be really fucked. Great. Fucking wonderful. Shit. If only he would have stayed in bed. “Come on. I’ll take you in.” He tugged the wet boy in his pajama-shirt a little roughly, but Justin escaped and plodded away with bare feet. “Of course down. On the ground. Down.” He walked about three feet and bent down on the street. “Ha!” It was the cup. Red and plastic, but empty. “Hey!” Shit. Brian swore and jogged behind the blonde. It nearly stopped raining, but it was cold and he was wet to the skin. He really wasn’t in the mood for all this crap. “Would you fucking stop!” Justin put his finger in the cup. “Of course on the ground. All the puddle-water.” “Come on. Justin.” Brian grabbed the boy on his shoulders and gesticulated to the entrance of the institute. “I’ve just hit you with my car. The people in there have to check you, okay?” Again he tried to guide him away, but Justin wouldn’t go. He was thirsty, the cup was empty and it stopped raining. He tilted his head and his neck as he looked up for proof. “The rain is gone.” “Yeah. But you are wet to the bones. Come on. Let’s get in, okay?” “No.” Justin escaped Brian’s hand and walked along the sidewalk with his cup. “No?” “No. Of course all the water on the street. Everything’s gone.” “Hff.” Brian sighed and thought of knocking the kid out cold. That would clear the problem fast and efficiently. “What the hell? What are you talking about? What fucking water?” “Puddle-water.” Justin made a sway to the left as he recognized the castle-garden in the darkness. Maybe he could drink a little blue… “… well-water.” Brian reached the boy and grabbed him by the arm. “Stop it! We’re going back!” Oh oh! Justin tugged his neck and shut his eyes. The prince was too loud and he didn’t like the aching in his arm. “Aaahau au au.” “Argh!” The older man let go, and turned away frustrated. God, this had to be a bad joke! What on earth had made him move in to this gruesome area anyway! After five seconds of collecting himself and three deep breaths for self-control, he finally turned around. The boy whined and rocked nervously back and forth. “Okay, okay. It’s okay.” He put up his hands, capitulating. “Okay. Okay? I’m totally calm. No more screaming.” Justin said nothing but rocked along. “Good. You want water? Which water?” “Water.” “Water to drink?” Brian tiredly ran a hand through his wet hair. Christ what would he give for a good glass of whiskey. “You want to drink? Drink water? Justin still rocked gently and blankly looked up in the darkness. “Yeah.” “Yeah? You’re thirsty?” “Yeah.” “Well then, come on. I’m sure you have water. Right? In your room. Let’s go.” But just before Brian could lay even a half of one finger on Justin’s arm, the boy escaped immediately. “Ah. Aah.” “Hey. Hey. It’s all right, okay? Remember? No more screaming.” “Yeah.” “Good. Where’s the water that you want?” Justin looked in his empty cup. “Puddle-water, of course on the road.” “Th!” Brian shook his head, his hands on his hips and huffed a laugh. This was exactly the reason why he didn’t like conversations! It was always so fucking frustrating! “Plake doesn’t come.” As he looked up again the boy still stood there, in the middle of the street, with wet hair, barefoot and in his pajamas. With outstretched arms he held a plastic cup in his direction and looked at him with the biggest fucking innocent blue eyes Brian had ever seen. Brian took the cup, looked inside, shook his head again and held his other hand out for Justin’s fingers. “One drink. Then I’ll bring you back.” Justin grabbed for the prince’s big hand with some hesitation. It still was … “ …all wet.” Brian gripped Justin’s fingers a little tighter and guided him off the street and in the direction of his gateway. “Yeah. Do you always take a walk in the middle of the night when it’s raining?” The boy plodded with splashing steps close behind the prince. He was really thirsty. “Puddle-water.” “Yeah, but trust me, you should try Evian.” ”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””