“What’s this?" Daphne leaned over to Justin’s side of the table and examined his drawing with curiosity. Justin didn’t like it when Alice came so close to his beautiful picture and bent himself protectively over it. “Is it a fish?" Justin shook his head. “Is it a horse?" The boy looked emphatically uninterested in the other direction. Daphne sighed. “Damn. I like horses the best." She then painted her own picture for a while. Green dots, yellow circles and big red spots. Justin didn’t like it at all. It looked like a big bunch of horrible apples. He shuddered. Apples were disgusting and…. “…certainly poisoned." He threw a disapproving look at Alice and continued to embellish his own painting with a bit more of the brown color. Prince-eye-brown. “Oooh!" Miss Peterson enthusiastically clapped her hands as she made a stop in front of Justin's table. “Justin, how wonderful! Is this a scene out of Gone with the Wind? I just love Clark Gable!" Justin ignored Miss Eterson like he had done for the last 45 minutes. Today, he didn’t smell like violets but like orange-colored tulips. His long finger claws were much too red, and his thick chest was half naked because his shirt had a far too big neck-hole. Justin didn’t like people with thick chests and flower smells. Furious, he took the brown wax crayon and rubbed it noisily over his sheet of paper. “When you’re finished we can hang it on the wall. Would you like that?" The fair-haired woman reached for her patient’s picture, but he pulled it away and leaned over it protectively. "He never allows anyone to touch his things," Daphne explained while scribbling a distorted 'Alice' on her own work of art, “not his book, not his shoes, not his new necklace, and never his hair." With an insulted pout on her lips, she handed her own paper to the therapist. “Not even if one asks for permission!" “Well,” said Miss Peterson, looking at her patient’s drawing briefly before depositing it into a thin folder, “It’s important, however, to respect other peoples wishes. And if Justin doesn’t want you to touch his things, you should respect his request." Daphne didn’t like this suggestion at all and defiantly pulled her seat neighbour’s picture out from under his hands. “Eeew!" She held it up, giggled, and screwed up her face. “He paints big red mouths!" Justin looked up, alarmed. Alice had his picture! The prince and the princess! Oh, oh. Nervously he grabbed the long blond strand behind his ear and started to bob up and down on his chair. Certainly he would never have the beautiful picture again. And the pretty brown prince’s eyes weren’t ready yet at all. He wailed quietly. The prince could... “…of course see nothing." “Oh, that was very rude. " Miss Peterson tried to take the paper away from Daphne. “See? Now Justin is all sad." Daphne giggled some more and pointed with an extended finger at the drawing. “Mouths with thick lips!" The therapist caught the drawing, laughed a little and gave the picture back to Justin. “Lips are necessary. Clark and Vivian kiss each other in this scene. It is very romantic. Isn’t that right Justin?" “Of course. Certainly he can’t see anything." Justin immediately reached for the brown wax crayon and quickly finished the prince’s eyes. "Nothing at all, all dark." He then grabbed for the well-water-blue and promptly painted over the ugly finger spots Miss Eterson made with her long finger claws. Pouting, Daphne folded her arms in front of her chest and decided to say not one more word for the rest of day. Because, of course, Superman would never kiss anyone other than Lois Lane. “““““““““ Brian stomped into his office, the door rattling in his wake. “Fuck!” God, he so hated that stupid cow from Eye-Conic Optics. ´I don’t like the font. The color somehow isn’t right. And what’s with the background Mister Kinney? This one seems a bit too obtrusive don’t you think?' He has had the art department revise the boards a hundred times now, but every time the bitch had a new complaint. Shit, at this moment he was only a breadth away from telling her to shove one of her ugly sunglasses up to a place where the sun would be guaranteed to never shine. "Boss?" Cynthia peeked cautiously around the door. “What!" Mister Kinney turned abruptly in his sinfully expensive Italian leather chair. “I said no fucking interruptions!" She looked at him with a pang of doubt. “I told Michael the same thing. He’s on line two." Quietly, she closed the door again while Brian, cursing aloud, reached for the receiver. “Tell me which color is more appealing than royal fucking blue, or get off the phone Novotny. I’m busy!" “Ah…purple?” was Michael’s nervous answer after a pause, and Brian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that’s it exactly, Mikey. When was the last time that I told you how pathetic you are?" Michael grinned into the receiver. “Exactly 31 hours ago. I’m deeply disappointed." “I am sorry. You are a pathetic little mommy's boy with gruesome taste all around. And now either spit out what it is that you want or leave me the hell alone. I have to fire someone in the art department." Michael grinned even more. “I wanted to know whether or not you can come to Babylon tonight. Ben and I wanted to drop in for a couple of hours." “No, I have to finish some work tonight.” “Really? Maybe you’ll change your mind. If not, we’ll see each other at the gym on Saturday?" “Yeah. Sure. See you then Mikey." Brian put down the phone and decided to take a late lunch. He planned to consume at least ten ounces of latte, one to two packs of Marlboros, and the well-built gas station attendant at 7th and Lincoln. “““““““““ Male nurse Gold hated the noon shift the most, especially if the doctors have left little yellow post-it notes on the trays with the word 'supervision' all over them. This usually meant extra long lunch sessions at the patient’s tables, making sure that they completely cleared their plates. This simple act was apparently too much for some of the occupants, especially the one in 411. According to Professor Bruckner, even two weeks after his transfer from the children’s psychiatry in Harrisburg, Justin still had problems with the St. James eating arrangements. Sighing, the male nurse grabbed the last tray on the cart and walked into Justin’s room without knocking. The boy sat on the edge of his bed and was kissing, with pointed lips and tightly closed eyes, a page in his fairytale book. The male nurse snorted contemptuously at the sight, put the meal down, and snatched the book roughly from the boy’s fingers. “What’s that supposed to be, your porn magazine substitution?" He looked at the page briefly. The badly drawn prince charming sported a slightly damp spot. Male nurse Gold snapped the book shut and threw it carelessly on the bedside table. “Come on, get up already. It’s meal time!" Justin stumbled clumsily as the male nurse grabbed him roughly by the arm and looked around, wailing, for his book. “Of course. Certainly under the pillow." “Would you come already?! Sit down!" Male nurse Gold plopped the boy into the chair and pushed a fork into his fingers. “The doc said you have to clear the whole plate. Do you understand?" "Of course. Of course under the pillow." Justin rocked back and forth nervously and then tried to get up. Not under any circumstances could the book be left there on the nightstand. It was the place for his... “… red cup. Of course prince water." “Hey! I said sit down and eat!" Disregarding the nurse, the boy toddled determinedly in the direction of his book. He blinked when a strong hand grabbed him by the neck. It stung and squeezed. He made himself stiff and held his book tightly with tense hands. “Damn idiot! Because of you I will get another reprimand!" The male nurse pulled at the book all the while squeezing Justin’s neck tighter. He hated it when patients freaked out constantly. “Give me the stupid book!" Justin squeezed his eyes shut and retracted his neck. It was loud, and everything stung and stung. “Plake." With a last firm jerk, the male nurse tore the fairytale book out of the ten small fingers and destroyed the thin wool cord around the boy’s neck. Dozens of dried noodles fell clattering onto the floor. Immediately, the young patient began to shout at the top of his voice while pulling his blond hair strands, clearly distraught. “Aargh, shit!" Frustrated, Ethan threw the book against the wall and gave Justin a firm shove before storming out of the room. Justin fell against his bedside table and was still crying and lying there between all the yellow butterfly noodles when the male nurse came back three minutes later. He came with a set of brown restraining straps and male nurse Schmidt in tow. “He just started to scream!" "Really?" Male nurse Schmidt looked with compassionate at the disturbed kid on the floor. He carefully took the boy by his right arm, while Ethan grabbed his left shoulder. Together they laid the patient down on the bed. “I only tried to give him his fucking lunch, and he went totally berserk!" Justin noticed something biting into his arm and stopped yelling. His mouth was very tired. With empty blue eyes, he stared up at the ceiling. Thousands of brown and green evil vines wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, so he was trapped forever and ever. But he wasn’t sad. His book was gone, and all the beautiful butterflies were dead. With one last sob, he let his heavy eyelids drop and wished that he would sleep one hundred years like sleeping beauty… or at least till Christmas. “““““““““ "Fuckingdamnedshit!" Brian slammed his car door shut and stomped with heavy steps toward his house. The stupid guy at the gas station had given him, not only the lousiest blowjob in history, no, he had also managed to pour an entire latte all over his favorite five hundred dollar Valentino jacket, with the lamest of exclamations, "Oops, a stain." “Motherfucker!” Mister Kinney entered his Playboy mansion with thunderclouds over his head. Throwing keys, briefcase and cell phone on the foyer table, he trampled with reverberating steps up the stairs to the second floor. He had to change his clothes if he wanted to return to the office. "Aaah!" Shocked, Emmett dropped his feather duster and laid both of his hands over his chest, his poor heart pounding wildly. “Oh my God. Brian." He breathed, theatrically, in and out four times and forced a small smile. “Do you have to scare me like this? You know my family is hereditarily handicapped with heart abnormalities." “What!” Brian took his shoes off and opened his cuff-links. “Do I have to first announce myself now? I live here!" “But not at this time of the day." Emmett laughed nervously and resumed dusting Mister Kinney’s bedside table. “Jesus." Brian took off his pants, threw his jacket and shirt on the floor, and marched, grumbling, to his closet. “Bring the suit to the dry cleaner’s. Today." Emmett grinned while dusting the bedside lamp. “Ah, an occupational accident during lunch break. Was he sweet?" “He dumped ounces of fucking latte all over my best Valentino jacket!" “Oh. Poor Baby." “Yeah." Brian slipped into a fresh shirt and fetched his new Louis Vuitton slacks from the shelves. “Call me baby again and you can go look for a new job. Emil." "Ugh." Emmett really did not appreciate the negative energy, especially before his afternoon break. He locked his lips into a thin pout, but had to open them again ten seconds later because he had made a very strange discovery beside Mister Kinney’s designer alarm clock. “Have you gotten yourself a new series of tableware? How nice! Red plastic. That’s very retro." Brian turned around, buckling his belt. “Hmm? No. That’s Justin’s." “Justin?" Emmett looked at the cup in his hands. “You mean the little blond trick from this morning?" “He’s not a trick." "He’s not?" Mister Honeycutt perked up his ears as his employer climbed into a new pair of shoes. “He ran into my car last night, so I brought him home." Emmett eyes widened. “And you guys didn’t have sex? But he’s so …small and blond!" Brian raised his head and lifted the left eyebrow. “Yes. And he lives on the other side of the street." Emmett wrinkled his forehead before realization hit him. “You mean St. James? The institution where Lindsay works?" Brian nodded. "Who would’ve thought? He seemed so…normal." Brian grimaced. “He is normal. …In a non-defined, non-conventional way." “I see.” Emmett waved with his feather duster mischievously. "And am I right to assume that we can expect this gentleman more often in the future? As a guest?" Brian threw an evil look at his maid and grabbed the red cup. "I don’t do 'guests'!" He needed to check St. James’ visitation brochure, buried somewhere in his glove compartment. Ten minutes later, he pushed open the heavy doors of St. James and climbed up a reeking stairwell to the 5th floor. Brian entered Ward 4 for the second time in one day. Male nurse Schmidt, seeing him from a distance, immediately approached him with a broad smile. “Hello! You were here this morning, correct? To visit Justin." “Right." Brian looked at the enthusiastic nurse sceptically and refused his extend hand. “Is it okay if I go see him for a little while?" “Absolutely!” The male nurse nodded vigorously and pointed at the large clock on the wall. “It’s 14:10 pm. We have official visiting time, Mister…" "Kinney." Brian wrinkled his nose and walked away in the direction of where he dropped the boy off in the morning. “It was my pleasure Mister Kinney!" Male nurse Schmidt called out, motioning excitedly after the handsome man. “Feel free to ask if there is anything you need! I am here at all times!" “Hmm,” Brian mumbled, reading room numbers while walking along the corridor. He finally knocked on the door marked 411. He didn’t receive an answer. Hesitating briefly, he knocked again. "Justin?" Without waiting, he opened the door. “Hey brat, are you…" As Brian carefully peeked around the door, he lost his words. A firmly tied up ,pitiable figure laid on the bed. With a suppressed curse and a thick lump in his throat, Brian entered the room, closed the door quietly, and hurried to the bed. Justin laid on his back with closed eyes. Broad leather cuffs held his ankles and wrists immobile to the mattress, and a torn farfalle noodle necklace laid half crushed on the floor. Brian picked up the necklace, put the remnants in the empty red drinking cup, and quietly placed it on the bedside table. He carefully extended a hand toward Justin. Gently, he stroked the pale forehead, while brushing strands of blond hair aside. “Hey. Justin." Justin's eyes were heavy like grey stones, and the evil vines held him down tightly and tightly. But he could hear Prian’s voice, and everything smelled of the beautiful prince. Brian bent over the boy, and whispered into a warm ear, so close that he touched it with his lips, “It’s visiting time." The boy breathed in deeply, whimpered and nestled his cheek against Brian's head. “Dream of…Prian." Brian smiled thinly, kissed a pink earlobe so briefly that it never could’ve actually happened and whispered again. “Why are you strapped down? You want me to unfasten it?" Justin's eyelids fluttered, and his whimpering got a little louder. The prince was really here! Here at his tower. “Christmas…" He tried to shift his head closer to where he could feel Prian’s soft hair and the beautifully whispered words, close to his ear. The prince came to rescue him. Of course with the shiny... “…silver sword." “I don’t think that will be necessary." The older man stroked through Justin’s hair one last time and began to undo the cuffs. They worked like normal belts but were far too tight. The pale skin underneath looked strangulated and sore and Brian really wondered whom he had to kill in order to prevent this from ever happening again. He rubbed the bruised skin, and smiled as Justin indolently opened his eyes, slowly trying to re-orientate himself. "Sleep well?" Justin turned to look at the prince and said nothing at all. “Why were you strapped to the bed?" Justin blinked. Not angry and not sad, but full of innocence with big blue eyes and long dark eyelashes. Brian sighed and pointed at the bedside table. “I’ve brought your cup back. Do you want a drink?" Justin stretched his head to see what the prince was pointing at, and an astonished small 'O' appeared on his lips. The red cup had magically returned to his nightstand. “Of course prince water." "Yeah. Maybe." Brian poured the noodles out of the cup and went in search of fresh water. When he came back five minutes later with disgustingly cheap water and a nauseated facial expression, he found the blond boy sitting on his mattress holding broken noodles in his fingers. “Of course. Certainly dead. The beautiful treasure jewellery." The older man closed the door behind him and sat with Justin on the edge of the bed. “Here, your water." The boy looked up. “All butterflies." “Hmm." Brian nodded. “Did you drop it?" Had he? Justin looked at the noodles in his hand scrutinizing but couldn’t remember. “Of course. Prince treasure from Prian." “Are you trying to make excuses now?" Brian raised an eyebrow. "All right." Justin made big eyes. “First the toast then the necklace." Brian nodded, smiling. “Indeed. Drink your water now, and then I’ll repair this thing for you." The boy peered critically into the offered drinking cup and sniffed. “Prince water?" “Try it." Brian took the broken pasta away and gave him the cup instead. Testing, Justin stuck the tip of his tongue in it, smacked twice and then smiled at the prince happily. “Nah. Of course puddle-water!" Brian grinned proudly. He had trained the boy into a real water connoisseur. “Drink it anyway. You’re thirsty." “Yes.” Justin took the plastic cup obediently with both hands, drank with large gulps, and watched the prince over the brim of the cup. The older man took the pile of noodles and cord from the nightstand and tied the loose ends together. The broken noodles made their way into his jacket pocket. Justin sighed contentedly as he finished and put his empty red cup back to its rightful place on the bedside table. Brian held up the repaired necklace. “Here." “Of course. " Justin glanced at it briefly before looking aside uninterestedly. “Six are missing.” "Six are missing? You’ve counted them?" “Yeah." “Okay." Brian put the necklace carefully around Justin's neck. “However, it still looks nice." “Yes. Six are missing." “I’ll bring you six new ones next time." “Yeah. On Christmas." Brian grinned. “I think I can manage it a little sooner." "Of course. Certainly on Thanks giving. Fried bird without feathers." “And yams." “Of course. Yams. Always on Friday." Brian wrinkled his forehead and scratched his ear. “Am I the only one who finds our conversations always a little strange?" Justin rocked softly back and forth, but said nothing. Mister Kinney looked around the room for a moment. A full tray sat on the table. “You’ve eaten nothing for lunch." Justin quietly counted the small stripes on the prince’s tie while curling blond hair around his finger. “Twenty…twenty-seven." "Justin." Brian touched him by the hand and waited for eye contact. “Your meal hasn’t been touched. Weren’t you hungry?" The boy looked over to his table and rocked a little more. “Of course. Certainly under the pillow." Brian wrinkled his forehead. “You want to put your food under the pillow?" A broad sunshine smile quickly blossomed over Justin’s pale face and he happily touched the prince's cheek. Prian made jokes with him. Of course the food would make big... “…sauce stains on the bed!" Brian was a little surprised by the boy’s laughter, but didn’t fight the innocent touch to his face. “Funny, hu?" “Yes. Funny Prian." Justin stroked the prince’s cheek again time with clumsy fingers and then dropped his hands. “Hmm. You want to eat now?" “No." The blond pointed with his finger. “Of course first the book under the pillow." “Well then go ahead. Where is it?" Justin looked silently over to where male nurse Gold had thrown his fairytale book on the floor, next to his shelf. It was broken now. Wide open and all crinkled. Brian walked over and bent down. “Why is it lying here?" Justin rocked back and forth. “Of course. Of course no kissing.” Brian thumbed through the pages and smoothed out some of the wrinkles. He shut the book properly before putting it back on Justin's nightstand. “No kissing?" Justin rocked some more, played with his long hair strands and looked at the floor. “Justin." Brian gently lifted his chin up. “No kissing?" “Of course. Not Justin." “Not you?" “Yeah." “Why?" “Of course. Certainly not Justin." "Hmm. Why not?" Brian waited but got no answer. After a while he sighed and sat down again on Justin's bed. “Justin?" “Yeah." “Have you ever kissed anyone?" “Yeah." “Yes? Who?" “Of course. Alice." He didn’t like to think about that at all. It was not nice to kiss Alice. Alice was sticky and his chest was far too thick. “Which Alice? Does she live here too?" “Of course. In Wonderland." With the rabbit and the queen of hearts. Everybody knew that. Only the egg was... “…fallen off the wall." “Pff." Brian combed his hair in frustration. “Remember the strange conversations? We’re drifting in that direction again, aren’t we?" “Yes." "Do you even know what a kiss is?" Did he? Yes, of course. He’d painted it. At Miss Eterson’s. He got up and walked, with awkward steps, to fetch his picture from the shelf. Shyly, he held it out for the prince. “Hmm. Who’s this?" “Of course. Prian." Brian pointed at one of the two drawn figures. “This is me?” “Yes. Prian my prince." “And this?" Brian pointed at the other figure, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer. “Certainly the princess." “Princess." Brian wrinkled his forehead. “Justin in the tower." The boy pointed to the many yellow lines. “With long hair." "Hh." Brian blinked as dots connected in his head. “You are Justin the princess?" Justin batted his long eyelashes at the prince just like Miss Eterson. “And you live in a tower?" “One five two one nine Pittsburgh Pennsylvania USA." Brian looked at the picture, held it up for a closer inspection, and then pointed at it almost reproachfully. “And you and I… we kiss each other in this picture?" Justin nodded. “With the mouth." Yes, he’d already feared something like that. “You paint pictures where we kiss each other? Why?" Justin looked uninterestedly aside and twisted the long blond strands behind his ear around his middle finger. "Justin." Brian touched him on the cheek and waited for visual contact. “Yeah." “You want to kiss me?" “Yeah." “Kiss Brian?" “Yeah Prian." Brian took hold of the boys chin. “Justin." “Yes." “We can’t kiss each other." “Yeah." “You can’t even cross the street by yourself." “Yes. Of course Prian says." Brian smiled a little and brushed over Justin’s soft lips with his thumb. “But your mouth is beautiful." "Yeah." With a shy look the boy reached forward and did the same to Prian. “Beautiful mouth." With clumsy fingertips Justin pressed on the warm lips and tried to push one finger between them. After a moment, Brian relented. It was damp and hot, and he could feel Prian’s tongue. Without withdrawing his hand he looked nervously aside and whimpered. His fingers tickled and his belly, too. And his heart pounded fast and loud. The prince smelled so good and his eyes sparkled lovely like dark pebbles in water. He began to rock slightly and knotted his free hand into blond strands of hair. Brian watched Justin closely while letting his tongue circle once around the small fingertip, he then took the boy’s hand away and kissed the knuckles. Justin was still looking uneasily aside. He really would’ve preferred to… “…kiss Prian." Brian smiled and stroked Justin's neck. “No." “Yeah.” “I have to go now." “Yeah." “You want me to tell the stupid troll outside to heat up your meal?" “Yes. Of course always sleeps." “I’ll wake him up." “Yeah." “Promise to eat your lunch if it’s warm again?" Justin changed his viewing direction. “Of course Wednesday. Meat-loaf and mashed potatoes." "Hmm. You like meat-loaf?" The boy looked up to the ceiling and said nothing at all. Meat-loaf really was disgusting. “What would you like to eat?" “Of course. Certainly white beet and toast." “You want to eat toast?" “Yes. Toast from Prian." “No fucking oatmeal with raisins?" “Of course toast." "Okay." Brian stood up. "Later you twat." Kissing his own finger, he touched it to the tip of Justin’s nose and left the room to pay a little visit to the ward nurse on duty. “Hey! Theodor Schmidt!" “““““““““ Twenty minutes and a strategically planned bribery flirtation later, a new tray was brought to the blond patient in room 411. On it were two slices of toast with cream cheese, one glass of milk, and a little piece of paper that Mister Kinney had put, with a wink, into male nurse Schmidt’s pocket before leaving.
Prince food. For Justin from Prian. …because meat loaf is disgusting. Of course.
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