🌈 Happy Pride Month 🌈

T.W: Alcoholism, Car accident.

The moment Lester desperately wanted was happening and Benxamin was going to witness it. Victor, standing over them, along with a sizeable group of drunken onlookers and dancing people oblivious to this important gathering. Tamara did not want to go unnoticed; she immediately recognized the young men and - with a bit of mischief - hugged Victor around the waist.

“And he is… ?” she said, pretending to be confused, but giving Lester a hostile look. “Oh, I remember! Your friend and... B-Benxamin? What is your brother doing here?!”

Benxamin was able to be sarcastic and brutally honest with her. The manipulative woman was in front of him; she used his brother as she wanted under the complacency of her father, but she was drunk and moody.

He decided to be someone mature enough to peacefully persuade Tamara - or at least he tried,

“Lester needs to talk to Victor alone for a moment. He won't be long. Is it okay with you that we wait for them at that table next to the... ?” but before finishing the sentence, the woman exploded with anger.

“Excuse me?!” she said with a vein on her forehead scarily marked.

Cursing over and over again in the style of a Drama Queen, Benxamin preferred to remain silent. This defense mechanism caused Tamara to lose her temper. Young Dautt understood how patient he could be with emotionally unstable people.

Sensing that the twin was not going to counterattack, she did a crazy thing: she took a glass of brandy from a passing drunk, drank some of it, and tried to throw it in Benxamin's face. The boy's reflexes were quicker; he put his hand over hers, but in his attempt to stop her, he spilled the drink on the hysterical lady's expensive silk blouse.

“Damn it! HOW DARE YOU?!” Tamara yelled.

“Please, forgive me? It was an accident,” Lester and Victor's eyes met for a moment, then focused on Benxamin's magnificent but also risk show. “We'll be back in a bit. I'll take your girlfriend to the restroom,”  he affirmed.

“You won't take me anywhere. Come with me, Victor,” she said with clenched fists.  

“I'll call your father, you're drunk. My brother will take care of you,” Victor expressed, while he was looking for a telephone.

“YOU WON'T DO THAT!”

Lester felt like a fool, but with the particular accident he decided to go with Victor to talk alone.

Marcus - who lost track of the couple - remained on the street for several minutes. “Great, I need to talk to the guy. I have to convince him,” he thought.

He observed something that caught his attention. Among the data he collected in his notebook, he read about Ernest's nephew - Marcel Witsel - expelled for bullying and whose dream of being a baseball player was shattered to finally become the family's chauffeur.  For a moment, Marcus suspected that Marcel could be one more victim of his uncle. And by a strange coincidence of fate, he saw him driving a white limousine towards the entrance of the bar; he was wearing a smart black suit with a ridiculous red and green striped tie.

“Huh?! What the hell... ?” Marcus said.

Marcel didn't go through such a traumatic situation as the other boys, but something changed in him. The young man who years ago had no aspirations and tried to stop living, became a responsible man who did not mind working the necessary hours to leave behind his history of bullying. He graduated from high school with the highest grades in his class and agreed to continue in his position in exchange for studying night classes and being a sports coach.

Once Victor called his boss, Ernest asked Marcel to pick up his daughter. He drove fast because he knew that she had a habit of drinking and drinking uncontrollably. He stopped near the entrance, went into the bar, but it was too dark to make out the faces of the people. Fortunately, minutes later, Marcel was able to recognize his cousin. She was yelling at the top of her lungs at a man next to her.

“You are not my boss!” she said.  

“Hey! I'm sorry. Let's wait for my brother here; I swear it was not my intention. I try to help those two. But, it seems I couldn't speak to you right or should I have told you the truth?” Benxa pretended to be embarrassed, trying to prevent Tamara from making a fuss over something that could be misconstrued.

“Victor?” Marcel asked, who was confusing Benxamin with his twin.

Marcus watched the whole scene like it was a badly written romantic movie.  He realized that he wasn't the young Dautt he was looking for.  “He doesn't have so many freckles, where is the boy?” 

After thinking about it - in this sea of ​​coincidences - he understood that there was someone else to worry about.

“Is it possible that Lester is here too?  But,... how did he know that I was going to meet Victor?”

Marcus scanned the entire bar: entered the restrooms, went up the stairs, looked in every corner - the faces of the unsuspecting people and that's when he saw them. He didn't take another step; he left them in their moment of privacy. Besides, Mira had previously told him about their relationship, that was going to be the last time they could be honest.

“How have you been, Victor? I've missed you so much. I suspect you're still working for the same person and... I want to give this back to you,” Lester said, trying to give him an envelope with the money saved all that time. “I told my mom everything, but you know how she is. It's like she reads our minds, she wants to help you.” He let out a deep breath to say something he knew was going to happen; “please, turn yourself in. I will wait for you.”

Lester tried to grab his hand again. Victor loved that boy, but if he agreed to be his boyfriend it meant that he had to get used to a relationship governed by several rules. He imagined Lester visiting him in prison, idyllicly awaiting his release, but...

“Was that even possible? Would they have a stable relationship? Was he going to visit him on weekends? Could he get a job if his beloved boyfriend agreed to live with him?” Poor Lester was dealing with his mother's illness, James's debts and working for that dream that was stolen from him. Then Victor told the most absurd and cruel lie that he could think of,

“You are nothing but a nuisance. How stupid of you to think that I was going to have anything with an *sshole like you!”

“What?” Lester said.

He acted like an idiot remembering Tamara's ridiculous outbursts; “I don't think you heard me right: leave me alone. I hate you.”

Lester's eyes widened, still holding the envelope in his hands. His complacent look disappeared in front of what was once his friend and the first love of his life.

Victor moved away from Lester; who also did the same, not knowing how to respond to such words. Marcus waited for young Dautt to take a few steps toward him; he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“You're a cop? I'll say everything I know. Please do something for my family, Lester and his parents.”

“I'm just a friend of Mira's.”

At the same time, Tamara reluctantly got into the limo - right next to the driver's seat. Marcel kept his cool.

“Victor? Dude, I... ” he asked with a great feeling of nostalgia as he remembered when he last saw him.  

But before Benxamin could answer, Tamara was throwing tantrums like a spoiled child. “I want to go home!” 

So, without missing a chance, he gave his telephone number to “Victor”.  

“I would like to speak with you again. Please forgive me for what happened, Victor,” Marcel said goodbye and thought about leaving quickly before Tamara vomited inside the car.  

“But, I am... ” Benxamin expressed, confused.

Marcel walked away thinking of Victor; he wanted to see him again. In those years of absence he had not forgotten, since after being saved by him, Marcel considered him more than his imperfect rival.  Although they worked for the same person, they never met face to face.  That was strange and hard to believe.

The young Witsel wandered in lonely thoughts and did not realize Tamara took control of the steering wheel. She was upset that she felt humiliated by “her boyfriend” and due to her inability to control herself, she spun the limo wildly.  

“What the hell are you doing?!” Marcel said.

She was very strong for someone of short stature and slim build. Suddenly they both heard a loud bang on the side of the car; they looked at each other in astonishment. Marcel stepped on the brake, took the keys and got out of the limousine.

“VICTOR!!” he yelled.

Tamara leaned back in the driver's seat. She looked at the man on the ground and, like Marcel - regardless of what clothes he was wearing - she mistook him for Victor.

She started crying and whispering several times, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

At the same time inside the bar, Lester was sitting at a table he saw next to him; surrounded by half-filled glasses of alcohol.  

“I have to be shit for people to stop treating me like an... idiot,” he was angry with Victor, with everyone around him. “I need you to explain to me what you just told me. Why do you hate me?”

Then he got up from his seat, looked for him and saw that he was talking to Marcus; “what is he doing here?”

He hid behind a column. But due to the excessive volume of the music, it was difficult to hear the conversation.

“Come with me. We'll talk to the police, Mira and I will get you a lawyer,” Marcus responded by taking Victor by the arm.  

Lester watched them walk away through the crowd. Both decided to leave through the emergency exit; he tried to follow them but something happened. He heard screams of despair, he lost sight of them when Marcel returned to the bar asking for help.

“Please, someone call an ambulance. My friend! I... I ran over my friend!”

“Marcel?”  Lester muttered, following the young man who was pale and about to faint.  One of his old nightmares seemed to come to life: horrified people surrounded Benxa lying on the ground like statues.  Lester tried one last time to look around to find Victor and Marcus, but he just couldn't.

And not knowing what to do, he knelt down next to his friend. “No, not you. Please.”