“It’s different!” Lane squeaked, “Now that I actually intend to be with someone!” he nudges his own forehead against Kenny’s, “You.” He mumbled. “YOU!” Lane pushed away, “You’ll get in trouble too, all because of me!” he started pacing around again, like a wound-up toy car. He cleared his throat, in preparations to imitate his father, “I don’t want to see you hanging around my son again!” he bellowed, making Kenny want to run away and take cover immediately.

“Lane-“

“He might as well call up and tell YOUR parents!” Lane suggested, cupping Kenny’s head in his hands. It suddenly made time stop around Kenny all together. It was selfish of him that it was only now he completely realized how dire the matter was. He had never told anyone but Denny, it had never occurred to him that eventually he would have to tell anyone else. Coming out to your parents on your own time and your crush’s father coming out to your parents for you gave two very contrasting messages entirely. He had never contemplated how his parents might react to it all much rather how his parents would react to the news headline broadcasted by Timur Kalchik. Holding his breath, he watched Lane slowly drag his feet back to the ice cream now much sloppier with more cream than ice. No, not again! Kenny watched uselessly as Lane shovelled up another spoon of gloop and poured the viscous liquid down his throat while wailing , “Som mŕtvy!”, dragging out the vowel like a broken fog horn. He smacked his lips then looked at Kenny - tired, “Didn’t they have strawberry?” he croaked. Of all the things Lane had said in the past thirty minutes, this was what made Kenny distinctively react. Strawberry?? He cringed. He watched Lane slurp scoop after scoop, his eye twitching harder the longer he waited. He huffed. He stood up.

“That’s enough!” Kenny declared putting his hands in the air. He marched over to the other side of the bed where Lane sat and seized the tub from Lane’s grasp. He heard Lane whine behind him and lunge to get it back but in exchange for his lack of height- he was fast. He scampered to the end of the room and dropped it into the dustbin with a cold hard clunk. Lane gasped a loud dramatic gasp.

“I-“Lane huffed, “I’m not talking to you anymore!” he spun around so that he couldn’t see the poker-face drawn across Kenny, crossed his arms and puffed loudly.

“La-ane” Kenny sighed, “Come on, now” he soothed. It didn’t seem to be working. He scratched the back of his head in frustration and waited patiently for Lane to come around, leaning back soundly in case it was going to take a while.

“I don’t like you” Lane muttered, then yelled “YOU THREW AWAY MY ICE CREAM!”

“Lane.”

“NO! SHUSH!!” Lane grabbed a pair of throw pillows and propped them over his ears like a little tent. Kenny looked down at his feet in deep thought and exasperation.

He crossed his arms and waited for quite a while until the stiffness on Lane’s shoulders whistled out and he almost hesitantly started turning back- as if Kenny was the villain all along. As challenging as his friend was being, Kenny thought of it as quite adorable. Smiling softly, he sat back down and Lane flopped side ways so that his head rested on Kenny’s lap.

“I’m sorry, Kenny…I’m pathetic aren’t I?” he groaned in self-awareness, scooting around so that he could look up at Kenny directly. His hair had frizzed up even worse after rubbing against the cushions, some standing up straight like he had gotten electrocuted. His intrusive thoughts getting the better of him, Kenny brushed up some of the deadly-looking quills, revealing Lane’s dilated pupils more or less expanding the complete territory of his beautiful green irises. He backed his hand away when Lane slapped it lightly so that his disheveled hair fell back down on him again.

“Can’t deny that!” Kenny said truthfully, adding just a touch humor to the tone of his voice. He was glad when it made Lane laugh and throw a soft playful punch at Kenny’s jaw. For the first time in what seemed like a long day, Lane flashed his iconic smile- the one that made his pearly whites shine and his green emeralds glimmer despite still being obstructed by hair. Kenny bent down at his hip to clasp Lane in a sandwiched hug. Do you know that weirdly good feeling when you have a cold shower on a hot summer’s day and you step outside, still chilly and dripping into the warmth of the sun? It felt just like that- all the more better even. He waited holding his grip on Lane constant until his friend was ready to let go, barely breathing so that Lane wouldn’t be disturbed. Once he felt satisfied, Lane let go and sauntered over to the mirror.

“Kenny!” he exclaimed, craning his neck at his reflection with his fingers pressed against his lips in distress, “Why didn’t you tell me I looked so…icky!”

“Cuz!” Kenny shrugged. If Kenny were to explain every minute detail of Lane’s little tango before he came to his senses with the sight of his own reflection, he would have been there till the crack of dawn. He went along with, “There were other minor setbacks.” and chuckled, entertained by the little hiccup-like breaths Lane took every time he discovered yet another knot in his hair or blotch of eyeliner or Chap Stick somewhere on his face. Nodding in doubt, he moved on to finally dress himself up, thrusting open his cupboard with gusto. He frowned. “What’s wrong?” Kenny asked, getting up to check if he can lend some assistance.

Lane leaned backward away from his open wardrobe door and smiled at him, his previous predicament no longer the biggest elephant in the room. It made Kenny feel ticklish all over, so he brushed his hand down his own shoulder to settle the goose bumps down. He watched patiently while Lane focused on rummaging through his clothes, muttering things in Slovakian under his breath. Kenny guessed he was probably unable to find the outfit he had in mind and stifled a laugh as Lane clicked his tongue –irritated.

“Ah, well,” Lane sighed, pulling out a red flannelled pajama kit, “this would do”. He looked disappointed at the outfit, seemingly wondering how it got into his selection in the first place. Catching Lane preparing to untie the knots that held his dressing gown together Kenny hastily got up and made for the door. He had already seen too much of Lane for him to consider himself pure any longer, for the image of those fine limbs flashed in front of his eyes every time he blinked. Unfortunately, fate and law had declared they be curtained in the aesthetic only a lumberjack can love for the rest of the night. He hit his forehead with his fist in embarrassment.

“Kenny?” Lane called, hearing the click of his door handle, where are you going?”

Kenny’s fists clenched, “outside?” he said in a high-pitched squeak. With that, he opened the door and fled. He decided he would wait in the sitting room downstairs till Lane was finished, chat about something other than impending doom with him and Lois once he was done, then head on his way back home considering it was almost one in the morning. He clippety-clopped down the stairs, the fronts of his soles rhythmically hitting the mahogany stairs with force. It was only when he looked up at the last couple of steps that he noticed Mr. Kalchik waiting soundlessly at the bottom. The air about him chilled and seemed to fog out in a cloud so that Kenny saw nothing but Lane’s father, and in return, Timur saw nothing but Kenny. He inhaled a sharp breath and his eyes basically rolled down onto the floor.

“Kenneth.” Mr. Kalchik addressed softly. Kenny’s attention didn’t wary- he thought he heard pain in the father’s voice. Unable to think of anything else to say, Kenny saluted with a polite address of his name back. He watched Timur’s heavy chest rise. Although he was far from being in uniform, Kenny hallucinated the jingling and clinking of the heavy badges he wore. It only terrified him even more. “I heard” he hesitated- Timur Kalchik never hesitated. “I heard you and Bratislav…mingled, as I might put it, at the wedding. Is that true?”

“It’s true” Kenny confirmed, his eyes watering with shame. He met his gaze with Mr. Kalchik, suddenly strong and determined. “Know that I take full responsibility for the inappropriate behavior so any and every punishment you decide to execute will be to me and me only” he said it loud and hearty, feeling as if he were reciting his final words as a sacrificial and brave war hero right before they took a bullet - again another appropriate analogy when messing with Timur Kalchik. He kept his eyes locked fast onto Timur’s, his eyebrows crossed and his teeth gritted behind his lips.

“Kenneth, you don’t have to talk to me like you’re writing a formal essay just because I’m Vice Admiral. Son, I’ve known you for years!” Timur remarked, raising an eyebrow. He felt awfully silly realizing the man’s relaxed posture, bright blue Superman T-shirt, checkered pyjama shorts and the glass of warm milk steaming in his other hand. Kenny felt his untimely courage weasel out of him and shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, his mouth opening and closing like that of a lost guppy. “I just want to talk to my son.” He started walking forward but some reflex inside Kenny forced him to thrust out his hand and stop the father in his tracks.

“Talk.” Kenny emphasized.

“Talk” Mr. Kalchik promised bowing his head. Kenny watched worriedly as the bulk figure of Lane’s father past him and stomped up the stairs. He descended the last step and strolled over to the sofas with his hands deep in his pockets.