After cutting corners, jumping over fences, hiding in shadows and accidentally stepping on a pile of dog shit, the apartment building finally came into view.

It was nothing too fancy. Remote, shabby and falling apart in several places, I never envisioned that someone of my financial standing would be relying on another’s person place to rest. 

Not that I was complaining, though.

Even if it were inhabited by sewer rats or located in a smelly swamp, this was Damian’s place.

Okay, technically, it was his grandmother’s apartment, but I knew he pitched along to pay rent. 

I had received a few curious and concerned glances on my way here. It made sense because I had been much too tired to pull another glamour.

There wasn’t much one could do anyways, for I was aware that despite my appearance, I still instilled certain negative emotions in some humans. A certain fear, is what you could call it. 

I reached the front door and pretended I was using my keys to open it. Naturally, I was going to snap the lock open, using the tip of my finger, and a twinge of magic.

Like I had done on many different occasions. 

All of a sudden, the door swung open.

“Excuse me,” a stupid voice made me stop in the act, “Do you live here?”

It was an old woman. She looked about the same age as Mom when she forgot to cake herself with makeup.

I gave her my best smile, showing two perfect rows of white teeth. “Of course I live here,” I said cheerfully, “Why else would I be unlocking the front door?”

The interaction had started less than three seconds ago, and already I was thinking about where I should dump her body.

Scatter the body parts in a forest? Inside a dumpster? Oh, maybe I ought toss her off a bridge, similar to how I’d disposed of the putrid customer who’d harassed Damian at his former job.

The woman pursed her paper, thin lips. “I’ve lived here for more than thirty years and I’ve never seen you before. Who are you? Why are you so dirty? Did you get beat up?”

While she talked, I scanned my surroundings. Apart from a stray cat, there did not appear to be a single soul in sight. Right, now was the perfect time to grant her a free pass to the afterlife. Later on, I would only need to alter everyone’s memory and voila!

It would be as if the granny never existed.

Excellent.

Just when I was about to reach out and snap her neck, a car pulled up, next to the sidewalk. The horn blared.

“Well, my nephew is here to pick me up!” the granny said, as she walked down the stairs, “I hope we can converse later, young boy.”

And with that, she disappeared into the car and it rode away.

Hmm...It seemed as if the granny had one hell of a good fortune today. A microsecond later, she would already have vanished from the face of the planet.

At least, she’d left the door open. Thus, I would not have to waste more energy to get myself inside.

I made my way into the building, climbed up the stairs, and barged into apartment number five. It was messier than before. Made sense, considering that Damian’s grandmother had been asleep for a while now.

I tried to remember how many days I'd told Damian she had left. Three? Two? I couldn’t remember, and to be frank, I could not care less. 

I had been the one to enchant her in the first place, a couple of hours after Damian had passed out from my breaking his arm.

In my defense, I knew she would have gotten herself in the way. Seeing how protective she was of him, I knew she would have caused more trouble.

I couldn’t protect Damian and his grandmother simultaneously, so I figured the best thing to do was put her to sleep. Naturally, I’d told a little, white lie to Damian, stating how she would die in a week if we didn’t find the spell caster. 

I’d hit two birds with one stone with that fib because one, I had an excuse to keep Damian around me. Two, I didn’t have to worry about the wrath I would have faced if I had gone ahead and killed her, like I had previously planned to.

Truthfully, she would be fine for another three months. As long as I was breathing, she’d always have a chance to wake up. 

I trudged over the mess in the kitchen, and peeked into the grandmother's room. To my surprise, she was not there. 

Maybe one of the neighbours had come around and discovered her there. Maybe the ambulance had come along to pick her up, when they realized she was breathing, but would not wake up. At the very least, she was safer in the hospital than in here.

Leaving the empty room, I made my way into another one. 

The one I'd visited on numerous occasions. 

The door squeaked loudly, upon my pushing it open. As I had speculated, Damian’s room still resembled Hurricane Piggy’s headquarters.

Paper bags, unwashed dishes, homework and shoes had been carelessly tossed around, clothes strewing all over the four corners. His bed was unmade, and dirty socks and underwear covered almost the entire area of the ground.

Damn.

To anyone, his room was no different to that of an ordinary teenage boy, but to me, it was something else entirely. If one came across this room and concluded it as being repulsive, I would be quick to disagree, and claim it was beautiful.

A work of art.

This was my deepest, darkest secret. Damian’s place was my second haven. My first one was the underground passageway I had built under my own room. A temple full of his things. 

I’m almost certain he had found his way into that place earlier today, but I was much too excited to feel ashamed about it.

Without meaning to, my old habit kicked in and I began searching through his things. Touching the surface of his desk, changing into one of his clean pajamas, sniffing his clothes and underpants…

It was amazing. Stimulating.

A perfect way to end my miserable day.

I had been in this room more times than I could count. Despite my family having me under their radar, I had managed to sneak out of the mansion whenever they were not around. 

I would usually wait until Damian’s grandmother went grocery shopping – every Tuesday and Thursday at 3pm – then I would permanently borrow some of his things and bring them over to my house.

Pictures, wrappers, tissues, utensils. Anything was fine. As long as Damian had used or touched them, I would be more than content.

In spite of my body being in agony and fatigue washing over me, an enthusiastic feeling bubbled inside my chest. 

I was in Damian’s room. I was alone.

And I could do whatever the hell I wanted.

I crashed onto his bed, pulling the blankets around me, running my hands through the surface. 

Damian had slept on that bed. His sweat was probably all over those blankets.

Grabbing his pillow, I felt my face grow hot when I realized my groin wanted some action. Slowly, my hand went south, penetrating the inside of my underwear. I pulled the boner out of its place, and pressed my thumb against the tip. 

It was wet. 

I wrapped the bulge around my hand and began.

His entire existence framed my mind. The way his eyebrows furrowed up when he was concentrating, and how he sexily bit his bottom lip when he felt confused. The way his butt looked when he wore skinny jeans, his deep, mature voice, his charming smile, the dimple he had on his right cheek...

Everything.

The movie playing in my head, I remembered how he’d given me more than one hickey, and the night we almost did it, in my room.

Fucking hell. I should have let him ram me when we had the opportunity. Why did I have to be such a romantic? What was up with all those stupid fantasies I’d had about the two of us, and our first time?

Slightly annoyed, my hand stroked my entire length in a more rapid movement.

Some people took drugs to feel a temporary bliss. Others drank or partied. Some took long walks outside, whereas others smoked. That was their way of either coping with stress, or wanting to go on a ten to sixty minute ride of absolute pleasure.

For me, it was masturbating.

Fapping while thinking of my cherished ex-lover. Thinking about him doing all kinds of dirty things to me. Envisioning us doing way more than your daily dose of vanilla sex.

I moaned, muttering his name repeatedly, picturing him sucking my dick. His mouth would be all warm and moist, and his tongue would swelter around it. Oh, how I would love for him to be inside me. Or for me to be inside him. 

We hadn’t even parted ways for a day, and already I missed him. I missed him with all my heart. I just wanted us to –

My goodness.

At this point, I could not even tell if I was disgusted or scared of myself. I had promised myself I would keep my masturbating addiction to the realms of my secret passageway.

Yet, here I was, playing with myself on his bed. Before today, I had only done this once, and I had felt so ashamed at myself for climaxing all over his sheets, while he’d been in school, that I vowed to never return to his house again.

I was dirty. Gross. No wonder everyone loathed me. 

I wanted Damian. Emotionally and physically. Being alone was unbearable. 

The fight hadn’t even begun, and already I was regretting my earlier decision. I should not have left him behind, after all. I should have taken the risks. 

But to what extent would that have worked?

I had recently turned fifteen, and I believed I could put everything on my shoulders? What a joke. 

I was one lonesome, dirty, little boy against an army of thousands. Thousands of sorcerers and possibly demons. 

Let’s not forget the fact that Damian would probably join them, once he rose.  

A laugh left my mouth. Tears and laughter combined to form a hysterical ball out of my poor, nauseating self. The hurt came from every inch, ever pore of my body.

I was sexually frustrated, mentally deranged, emotionally dependant on one person, and psychologically damaged.

Finally, I climaxed, staining his bedsheets. Just like before, I would have to clean it all up before leaving.

Sighing, I grabbed the pillow next to my head and pressed it tightly against my chest. I curled into a ball, and felt the hot, shameful tears stinging my face.

Being apart from Damian was truly agonizing. I hated being alone. Hated it.

I wish he were with me. I wish my problems would vanish.

I wish I wasn't so fucked up in the head.