He walked quickly through the deserted school hallway. He had suffered through horrific dreams again last night, meaning he didn't fall into a peaceful sleep until dawn. Because of this, he hadn't woken up on time and was late for his first class. He brushed stray strands of dark hair from his eyes and adjusted the backpack on his shoulder.

Jerry Hanson was a strict teacher, and an even stricter father. Today was the day of the Civil War exam, for which Will had prepared meticulously. Unfortunately, it looked like he wouldn't get the chance to show off his hard-earned knowledge. Still, he preferred being at school; staying home would likely lead to another argument with his parents.

He reached the classroom and knocked hesitantly. Gripping the handle with a sweaty palm, he opened the door and was immediately met by the stern gaze of Jerry’s coal-black eyes.

"Good morning," he said, his throat tight. 

"Hanson, another late arrival this month. Sit down and mind your business. We’ll talk later," Jerry replied curtly.

Will did as he was told and pulled a sketchbook from his bag. It seemed the chance to take the test was gone, at least for today. He caught the eye of Lola, his friend. She was surely trying to tell him non-verbally not to worry. She always looked out for everyone, like a protective older sister. He gave her a faint smile and looked down at his notebook. He flipped through the pages, wondering if he should start a comic. The depth of his own imagination often surprised him. He usually drew inspiration from his nightmares. As terrifying as they were at night, once transferred to paper, they seemed—to him, at least—a little less frightening.

He had suffered from nightmares for a long time. They had haunted his nights since he was about eight or nine, and as he grew older, they occurred with increasing frequency. He was currently looking at one of his sketches depicting a winged woman with bare breasts. Her long claws were slicing through the skin of a terrified man, leaving bleeding gashes. She stared at Will with hollow, pupil-less eyes. Her skin had a deathly pallor, yet her form was attractive. Long hair, reaching perhaps her thighs, fell over her chest, and from the waist down, a black, tattered dress trailed behind her. On her head sat a large stone set in a crown as black as night.

He didn't notice the teacher approaching until Jerry saw the drawing of what was, for all intents and purposes, a semi-naked woman. When Jerry placed a hand on the desk, Will flinched, his face flushing crimson instantly. Embarrassed, he hurriedly snapped the notebook shut. After a moment, when the teacher said nothing but remained standing there, the boy glanced up, still deeply self-conscious. Hanson, with a look of pure surprise on his aging face, was staring at Will’s notebook. He shifted his gaze to the equally confused boy, cleared his throat, and walked back to his desk as if nothing had happened. Surprised, Will watched him go.

At the end of the lesson, Jerry hastily gathered the exams, shoved his things into his briefcase, and left the room. Seeing that the matter of his lateness was settled for now, William decided to prepare for the next class—or at least find out which one it was.

"Come over to Ryan’s tonight!" Lola shouted while standing in the lunch line. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and leaned over the food counter. 

"I don’t know if Mom will agree." Ryan looked at the boy cautiously, fearing a refusal. He could never get enough of looking at him. Together with Lola, the three of them were inseparable, always eating together at school and sometimes meeting after class to tackle homework. Will shared many details of his life with them. Once they each had their portion of lunch, they took a vacant table.

"Convince her," the girl smiled at him. "Ryan’s parents won't be home. We’ll have a few drinks, and then you two can go wild." William blushed slightly. Although Lola knew about his relationship with Ryan—which went beyond just being friends—he was still somewhat embarrassed in front of her.

It was one of those traits he disliked about himself, but he had to accept it. His libido, which frequently made itself known loudly and clearly, left him no choice. Despite the fact that they were sleeping together, they weren't a couple. Their relationship remained undefined, yet they were clearly drawn to one another.

"I'm back!" Will announced curtly, kicking off his shoes in the hallway before hanging his jacket on the rack. It was late October; it wasn't raining, but a biting wind was chilling everyone to the bone. The boy’s large green eyes scanned the spacious living room, the modest dining area, and finally the kitchen, where he found his mother sitting at the table with her laptop. She was likely working. The room was bright but cozy, always slightly cluttered though never dirty. The space was dim, as the large window let in little light due to the dismal weather.

Jane cast a fleeting glance at her son. She offered her cheek, expecting the ritual kiss. She had naturally fair skin that contrasted with her black hair. Her narrow, almost feline green eyes were slightly squinted, probably from the glare of the screen. She was a beautiful woman with an exotic, striking beauty that drew considerable attention.

"How was your day?" she asked as the boy planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. This question was also part of their daily routine. 

"Fine," he replied shortly. A moment later, as he opened the fridge, he added: "And yours?" 

"Same." Short. Well, he was used to it. It actually suited him. They had never been overly close, though William believed his mother argued with him so often because of his father. "There’s leftover dinner from yesterday in the fridge, heat it up," she added without looking away from her computer. She was a rather cold woman, composed and calm, yet she didn't lack love or concern for her son when the need arose.

William, having piled his plate with the warmed-up stew, sat opposite his mother and began to eat slowly. 

"I heard you screaming last night. We should talk about it, William." The boy tensed, feeling they were stepping onto thin ice. He hated talking about it, especially around his father, who made a habit of making snide remarks on the subject. Fortunately, he wasn't there at the moment. This didn't deter Will from wanting to cut the uncomfortable conversation short. He was too proud—and too embarrassed by his nightmares—to discuss them.

"It’s nothing, Mom. You shouldn't worry," he replied with a hint of irritation. 

"William, really. I am obligated to help you when..." She didn't finish. They both heard the clatter of the door opening. A moment later, Jerry walked into the kitchen with a bag of groceries. He was wearing a shirt, jeans, and a black blazer. The man’s dark eyes rested on Jane, then on the boy. Suddenly, he threw out:

"Will was late again. What's for dinner?" Setting the groceries on the counter, he walked over to the pot to stir it with a ladle. 

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Will asked. Jerry smiled faintly. 

"That’s not my responsibility. You should look out for yourself," he said, heading toward the bathroom to wash his hands. Jane got up to serve her husband his dinner. When the man returned and sat down to eat, his mother reopened the subject.

"So... as I was saying, I heard Will last night. He had nightmares again; that’s probably why he was late. We should help him because..." 

"Mom," William interrupted her abruptly, rising from his seat. "I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll handle it," he repeated, almost like a mantra. Jane wouldn't back down. 

"Will, son... you have to listen to me..." she said, her expression more concerned than usual. 

"Exactly, kid. This time you didn't sound like a coyote, more like a slaughtered orca. It's definitely a serious matter." Jerry put on an exaggeratedly worried face, then smiled and added: "You should listen to your mom, Will."

Red-faced, the boy shot him a sharp look and, without a word, headed upstairs, grabbing his backpack on the way.

"Jerry, you’re not helping..." he heard a muffled voice say, followed by his mother calling from below: "Will! Wait, it’s really important!"

The boy slammed his bedroom door and threw his bag on the floor. He went into the adjacent bathroom, stripped, stepped into the shower, and turned on the hot water. He didn't want to fight with them, but he couldn't stand his mother’s fretting or his father’s mockery any longer. They never treated him seriously—as if he were five years old and couldn't manage his own life. He wasn't a child, damn it. He didn't need twenty-four-hour care. He decided he would go to Ryan’s; he needed to blow off steam. As he washed hurriedly, he was still agitated.

He thought about what would happen if it came out that he was... sleeping with Ryan. Ryan’s mother lived in blissful ignorance of his preferences. He didn't want to tell her the truth, and he often felt guilty about it, but he couldn't deny it was convenient. He wasn't dating Ryan; he was just screwing him. Besides, they were friends, and that arrangement suited him. Often, afterward, he felt disgusted with himself. What they did... didn't feel entirely normal to him. Yet it would be hypocritical to lie even to himself: he loved penises and male bodies. His friends stood by him and kept his secret from his parents, though Lola often tried to convince him to tell the truth, at least to his mother. She hadn't succeeded.

He stepped out of the shower and stood before the large mirror. Wet, slightly curly hair clung to his forehead and neck. He brushed it back and dried himself with a towel. He pulled on boxers, a loose dark t-shirt, and black jeans. He ran his fingers through his hair. Back in his room, he grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys. He threw on a green hoodie and zipped it to his chin. Making sure he had everything, he headed downstairs. Hearing his footsteps, his parents came out into the hallway. Will didn't even grant them a glance as he put on his shoes and moved toward the door.

"We were supposed to talk," Jane said. "Where are you going?" 

"To Ryan’s," he replied shortly. He opened the door and said: "I’m staying the night." His father grabbed his arm and turned him around. 

"You’re seventeen. How many times do we have to remind you of that?" 

"I should be asking you that. I’m not a child, for God's sake," he snarled, breaking free and stepping outside. It was getting dark and raining, but Will didn't care. He started running toward his friend's house.

Jane sighed. They were sitting in the living room; aside from the light from the television, the room was completely dark. Jerry had his arm around her, staring blankly at the screen.

"I have no idea what’s happening in Sarihmas. Will is getting older... they’ll reach him eventually. Victor will catch him, sooner or later. We have to tell him. We can’t delay anymore," Jane said, letting out a heavy breath. 

"I know, you’re right. As soon as he gets back, we’ll have a calm talk with him," he replied, touching her shoulder with his lips. 

"There was no need for that snide comment," she stated, pulling away and crossing her arms. Jerry looked displeased. 

"It’s not my fault he always reacts like that. I wanted to break the tension! You didn't see your face—or his." 

"No, but I saw yours. You could be kinder to him." Agitated, she got up and went to the bedroom. Jerry followed her. 

"Give me a break, will you? I can’t help the fact that every time I look at him, I see James. You know I hate him." 

"He was his father, whether you like it or not," she replied, stripping off her clothes and entering the bathroom. The man followed her every step.

"You have no idea what I’d give for him to be my son. Can’t you see how much he looks like him? How proud and haughty he is? You can’t correct him or question his decisions! Do you think he’ll believe you if you tell him now? He’ll think you’ve lost your mind. The heir to the throne of Sarihmas, Midis, and Oisin—Prince William! When I look at him, it actually amuses me."

He was slapped. Shocked, he stared at Jane in disbelief. The woman, usually so cool-headed, was looking at him with fury. 

"How can you say that? You are his father now!" If Jerry had been confused before, now he was genuinely angry. 

"Father?! You must be joking! He never listens to me, he always does whatever he wants!" he shouted, waving his arms nervously. "Are you blind, Jane?! Don't you see what he’s like?! Exactly like that damn King Jamie."

"Get out! I won't listen to this, do you understand?! I know how I raised him! He will never be like that, never!" She had tears in her eyes and flushed cheeks. Jerry straightened up and shifted his weight. He narrowed his eyes. "With all my heart, I hope he isn't," he said, then walked out of the house in a rage.

"Bottoms up!" cried a slightly tipsy Lola, finishing her drink and leaning on Ryan’s shoulder. They had been drinking for a few hours, and the conversation never ended. For now, they were playing "Never Have I Ever." "Now it’s your turn, Ryan!" 

"Never have I ever slept with a teacher." Everyone waited in suspense. After a moment, Ryan raised the glass of whiskey to his lips and took a drink. 

"Hahaha! No way! Seriously?!" Lola seemed delighted by this new information. Will looked at him in disbelief. Lola was always too nosy when she was drunk. 

"When?" he asked. 

"Last year, with Curter, the PE teacher for the sophomores and juniors." Lola brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead. 

"What was he like?" she continued with her questions—which, to Will at least, were too intimate. Every time she tried to pry spicy details about their relationship out of the boys, Will would dismiss her with a cold look or effectively change the subject. 

"He was fine." Ryan cleared his throat. He stole a glance at Will, but Will said nothing. He didn't even look at him.

"Oh, come on, share some details, pleeease?" She wouldn't give up. Ryan turned even redder and rubbed his neck in embarrassment. He silently begged William to do something to end this uncomfortable topic. He shouldn't have said it. Ever since he’d known Will, he’d wanted to get close to him, and he had succeeded—yes—but not quite on the terms he’d originally imagined. He certainly didn't want his words to convince Will that he only cared about sex, because that wasn't the case. Though, as they say, if you can’t have what you love, you love what you have. And since he liked Will more than was strictly necessary, he at least had his body. And he was still trying for his heart.

"Lola, leave him alone. Can’t you see he doesn't want to talk about it? My turn now," Will said, grabbing his glass.