You'd be wrong to think that it's just a slapdash quiz taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no. I'm standing on the set and I see how strong it is. The props are surprisingly precise. The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer. The farthest galaxies have been turned on. Oh no, there's no question, this must be the premiere. And whatever I do will become forever what I've done.

​Shit, shit, shit. He had spent the majority of his youth, except for the last five years, on the theater boards, talking, prattling, and rambling. He had whole poems, novel passages, and acts from plays etched in his brain. He could recite hour-long monodramas without even a stutter. Back in high school, he'd been quite known for having an appropriate lyrical reference for every situation. That's how he'd managed to charm Ewelina, back when he'd still fancied himself a romantic. But now his mind was just blank.

I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, from waiting to not waiting for you; my heart moves from cold to fire. I love you only because it's you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

​No, he couldn't speak about love. No matter how fitting it was, settling for platitudes would be shooting himself in the foot. It was curious, though, because he never used to understand these words. Love itself, sure, but all these melodramatics—fire and ice, dying from longing, loving someone so much it almost turned into hatred—if someone had asked him before, he would have said that it was just for show, pretty nonsense used for making good art. If he'd been to categorize it, he'd have put it in a 'fantasy' pile. But it turned out that this pretty nonsense was a real thing. What next? Aliens? God?

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz;

​No, no. Everyone knew, loved, and was going to do 'Howl'. He needed something groundbreaking. Unprecedented.

Fuck. Two days until the audition, and he had no poem.

if you're going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don't even start. if you're going to try, go all the way. this could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs and maybe your mind. go all the way. it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days. it could mean freezing on a park bench. it could mean jail, it could mean derision, mockery, isolation. isolation is the gift, all the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. and you'll do it despite rejection and the worst odds and it will be better than anything else you can imagine. (...) all the way. you will ride life straight to perfect laughter, it's the only good fight there is.

Should he salute Aleks by going for his favorite author? It seemed wrong not to make him a part of this audition somehow. It wouldn't have even been happening if not for him.

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit. Will you marry it? It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof against fire and bombs through the roof. Believe me, they'll bury you in it. Now your head, excuse me, is empty. I have the ticket for that. Come here, sweetie, out of the closet. Well, what do you think of that? Naked as paper to start but in twenty-five years she'll be silver, in fifty, gold. A living doll, everywhere you look. It can sew, it can cook, it can talk, talk, talk. It works, there is nothing wrong with it. You have a hole, it's a poultice. You have an eye, it's an image. My boy, it's your last resort. Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

So many thoughts and so many verses that he just remembered and suspected he always would. He felt like his mind was going to burst from too many literary pieces circulating around. He hadn't really thought about them in ages, but now that he needed to find one that would resonate exactly right, they'd all flooded back, fighting to be picked. None worked perfectly, though. It was utterly frustrating.

He heard a horn and realized that he had been staring at the green light for several seconds. He started to roll slowly, glaring at the fat guy in the other car through the rearview mirror, because he was sure that this slob knew shit about poetry and wouldn't understand his dilemma for the life of him.

It was like nothing fitted him anymore. It used to be so simple. ​He was no poet, but he could have always expressed himself through other people's words by finding himself in them and giving them new meanings. There had always been multiple pieces that had portrayed his feelings precisely, but now there was nothing he could enact in front of the board that would feel right.

He parked by a low-rise, broad building and got out of the car. He'd never been here before, but he figured it was about time, and today was a special occasion. He went inside, looking around curiously. Aleks had said to take the stairs down.

He must have been in the right place, because he could already hear a faint beat humming through the floor. It grew stronger when he got to the glass door and entered the control room. A chubby blonde sitting behind the console jerked his head.

"Hi," he said, removing his headphones. "Maks, right?" he guessed, straightening up with difficulty and offering his hand. "Szymon," he introduced himself. Maks nodded. "We're wrapping this up. Aren't we, kid?" he added to Aleks behind the glass after pushing one of the many buttons. "One more time. You'll handle it?"

"Sure," Aleks said calmly, adjusting the mic before glancing at Maks and winking surreptitiously.

The previous music died down, and Szymon gave Aleks some vague sign that Maks couldn't decipher before pointing him to a second swivel chair.

Maks complied, keeping his eyes on Aleks, who took a couple of deep breaths, preparing for his entry. From that moment on, he stopped paying any attention to him, probably not wanting to get distracted. He seemed a bit self-conscious but mostly psyched, which was to be expected; it wasn't every day that he released his first single, after all. Although that grand event wasn't supposed to happen until midnight, when the track got out on the internet, he and Maks had decided to get ahead and celebrate the success still today. They both deserved it. More importantly, they both needed it because Maks wasn't sure how much longer he was able to stand watching Aleks come back late at night, dead on his feet, and kissing him goodbye at the crack of dawn.

Between working and preparing for the audition, which was still the first of several stages that were ahead of him, he didn't have lots of free time either, but it was nothing compared to what Aleks was doing to himself. Maks wasn't sure whether his energy supply was just infinite or if he was on the verge of collapsing, but he was just putting up a front. Maks worried a little, but there were so many reasons to worry about Aleks that this one diminished amidst them. High workload seemed to give him some masochistic pleasure, so maybe he just had workaholic tendencies. And it wasn't that Maks wanted Aleks to take more breaks from recording, because after a whole day spent in the studio, he was so contentedly exhausted that it was a joy to look at him. He would like him to put less effort into his other job, but he'd learned not to even broach the subject.

He'd gotten so lost in his head that he barely registered when the studio was filled with a new beat. He listened involuntarily, already knowing the first lines by heart, even though the song was brand new and he'd only heard it a couple of times. When he'd first played it at work, he'd spent several long seconds staring at the screen of his phone, because what kind of title was 'WU5818Y'? For some reason, on top of being nonsensical and a strange choice of name for a song, it'd also seemed familiar, and it'd taken him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that it was his license plate number.

Well, almost. Two digits were swapped, and when he'd later asked Aleks about it, he'd said that it was just so nobody was able to identify him by it. When Maks had frowned and asked why anyone would have tried to locate the owner of a car mentioned in a hip-hop song, he'd just shrugged and said, 'They wouldn't'. Which wasn't helpful at all.

It was quite clever, though. Aleks was a master of mystifying allusions that let him write about real but unfit for public stuff in a way that left others none the wiser. It got obvious after the first few lines, and while the song could probably be interpreted in a multitude of ways, to Maks, it was a clear description of that night. No one else knew why the car with this plate number had pulled over in the middle of nowhere late at night; no one knew when it'd happened, where, who had driven the car, who else had been there, and why. Only Maks really understood the meaning of this song.

He smiled to himself, flowing through the melody along with the lyrics and intoning them in his head. The rhythm was pretty good. It was brisk but not too rushed, and suddenly he realized... it was poetry, wasn't it? He recalled the words of the director of his theater group in high school who had been helping him prepare for exams into the acting program back then and said that every piece should above all have personal meaning, and was there anything more personal to him than the account of the night that had changed his life, written by him and in verse on top of that? It was fucking perfect, and nobody would accuse him of being unimaginative, because there was very little chance of any other candidate performing another Aleksander Szczęsny original.

He felt the excitement filling him and had already started to plan it all in his head when he was brought down to earth by a sudden doubt. Was it really a good idea to recite a hip-hop song in front of a committee full of conservative geezers? It could either be a hit or a suicide; they would either consider it a stroke of genius or condemn him for not treating their esteemed institution seriously enough. There was no other way. It wasn't a safe bet, but no pain, no gain, as Aleks used to say, and Maks had been living by this rule for a while now.

He completely spaced out and emerged only when Szymon stood up and started to gather his stuff and Aleks took off his headphones. Maks returned his brief smile and followed Szymon out.

"I've got to go," he informed Maks before he could even open his mouth. "Tell the kid that I had to go, but it was superb, so I'll mix these little grunts during the intro into our master, touch it up some more, and send him to listen. If he gives the go-ahead, it will be good to throw in tonight as a bonus, will you—? Oh, sorry," he mumbled after bumping into someone in the hallway. "Hey," he said to a surprised Kostek, then passed him in a hurry.

Maks shook his head at his frazzled behavior, trying to commit all the words he'd heard to memory, before slowly moving his gaze to Aleks' brother and discovering that he was glaring at him already. He looked surly, but he'd always looked surly, and Maks was starting to think it was just his face that made him look permanently pissed off. He felt pretty awkward just standing there and staring, but he didn't want to break the silence first. He had no idea how to behave towards his boyfriend's brother, and he suspected that Kostek had no idea how to behave towards his brother's boyfriend. What's worse, he doubted there were any universal rules that stipulated it. They had to improvise.

Each of them was just as uncomfortable as the other, and finally they were rescued by Aleks opening the door and blinking in surprise. ​

"Hey, sorry, I'll be just a sec," Kostek said, visibly on edge. "I didn't know you would be..." he broke off, sneaking a glance at Maks.

"I'll wait in the car," he volunteered, recovering quickly. He sort of wanted to say something more, some 'nice to see you again' at least, because it wasn't a random thug anymore. It was Aleks' brother. But firstly, it wasn't exactly the truth, because the guy had killed someone after all, which was something Maks had been trying not to acknowledge at all, and secondly, they were both mortified enough. He didn't need to make things worse with his exaggerated propriety.

"Would you?" Aleks asked, apparently agreeing. He followed Maks with his eyes until he disappeared.

"Was that your...?" Kostek started with a perplexed expression, nodding at the door.

"Yup," Aleks replied swiftly to save him from saying it out loud.

Kostek was silent for a few beats, clearly trying to digest that little piece of information. "You know, I'd like to know these things," he said unexpectedly, still grimacing a bit. "If you have a boyfriend or whatever, I'd like to know about it." He breathed the word 'boyfriend', looking like he barely got his mouth to utter it.

Aleks held back an amused smile with difficulty. "Okay. I do," he said easily. "Consider yourself informed."

Kostek nodded thoughtfully. "Look, I just wanted to check in to make sure that everything's fine, and I wouldn't have come here, but lately it's easier to get together with the president than with you. And there've been many rumors going around town, so I thought—"

"About Maks?" Aleks checked in concern, feeling the approaching flood of panic. It wasn't possible that anyone had been looking into them, right? He'd been overly cautious, and Partyka had lost interest a while ago, but Wincent claimed to know about someone and had already been aware of Maks' identity. It wouldn't have been very smart of him, but Aleks couldn't rule out that he could have stabbed him in the back if he'd felt slighted.

"No, not him," Kostek assured him quickly. "At least I haven't heard anything about him," he added, shrugging, and Aleks released his breath, glad that it was a false alarm. Kostek narrowed his eyes, peering at him suspiciously and lowering his voice. "Does he know what you do?"

Aleks winced internally, already feeling the upcoming scolding. He bit his lip to buy some time. "Some of it," he said nonchalantly. "No details though, just, you know... more or less," he added hurriedly.

"Jesus, Aleks," Kostek murmured, shaking his head. "I hope you're fucking sure about him—"

"Of course I am," Aleks scoffed, affronted. "I wouldn't tell him shit if I haven't trusted him fully," he professed, even though it was utter bullshit, because he'd let Maks in on plenty when he'd barely known him, let alone trusted him. But Kostek didn't need to know that.

"Let's keep it that way," he sighed in resignation. "Anyway, there are a lot of stories. That you're fully a part of the Żoliborz crew now. There are even some hardcore ones, that you are his right-hand man—"

"Who says that?" Aleks perked up.

"Everybody," Kostek said grimly. "People have fucking seen you and heard of you, cause apparently you've been all over anything that Partyka gets his hands on. What are you actually doing for him, huh?"

Aleks really didn't want to answer this question, so he deflected. "People are bored and talking out of their asses." He rolled his eyes. "Don't believe everything you—"

"So it's not true?" Kostek asked seriously. "He doesn't favor you? Cause, you know, it's not even about the illegal shit. I said what I had to say about it. But people are going to be pissed. They already are. They're going to get resentful and greedy, and target you."
​
"Who is?" Aleks asked quickly, bracing himself. "Have you heard anything about Adrian?"

Kostek raised his eyebrows. "Wha... which Adrian? That creep from Partyka's brood? Why? Is he giving you any trouble?" he asked, frowning menacingly. "He's an even worse scumbag than his uncle, Aleks—"

"Yeah, I know." Aleks cut him off blithely. "Forget it. It's nothing. He just pisses me off, but he's harmless." He shrugged because he wouldn't have called a couple of text threats, giving trouble. He doubted Adrian had enough guts to turn his words into deeds. Partyka valued his services too much, and if Wincent had wanted to make a move, he would have already. There, all the bigger players counted out. The rest didn't matter. "So if it's not Adrian but your friends talking, I'm afraid I can't take them seriously. They could have done something before, instead of sitting on their asses, they wouldn't have to be jealous now."

"As if anyone who has a scrap of integrity would ever—"

Aleks laughed out loud. "Integrity?" he echoed incredulously. "You're talking to me about integrity? Don't you understand it's not about sides? Nobody wants to brawl anymore, Kostek. Nobody wants to have to shoot people in the woods; it's risky, it's foolish, and it's a maximum mess with a minimum of gratification."

Kostek's face looked chiseled in stone. "You know it wasn't like that with Rogal," he said quietly, his face full of tension. He must not have liked something in Aleks' expression, because he added indignantly, even quieter than before. "Come on, I didn't go there planning a fucking execution. He was out of control, but I wouldn't have done that if I'd been there alone."

Aleks had kind of known that, but they'd never acknowledged it before. It was still brutal to hear. "He would have killed you instead," he murmured reluctantly.

Kostek shrugged. "So he would have."

"Cool, great plan," Aleks hissed venomously, regaining his self-confidence. "Or we could stop squabbling like children and focus on business."

"Business?" Kostek echoed skeptically. "Is that what it is?"

"Sure. I give them what they want, and in return, they give me what I want," Aleks explained condescendingly, because to him, it was pretty simple. "Which is this, among other things," he added, indicating the studio with a broad gesture.

Kostek scoffed. "And you think I'm gonna buy that it's all about music? If it were about music, you wouldn't need someone like Partyka."

"Partyka isn't as bad as you think," Aleks protested calmly.

"That's not what I've heard."

"So what?" Aleks challenged. "They're probably saying the same about me now." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "'Hey, you know that guy? I've heard he's Partyka's right-hand man. He must be a fucking nutcase. I don't want anything to do with him'," he quoted with a wicked smirk.

Kostek wasn't amused. "And they'd be right," he pointed out quietly. "So you admit it," he added accusingly.

Aleks rolled his eyes. "I'm not anybody's anything," he scoffed. "I'm just... supervising," he clarified casually. Kostek looked like he hated what he'd just heard, but Aleks was saved by his phone. "Wait a minute. Hello?"

"Where are you?" He heard a curt voice.

"Leaving the studio now," he said, suppressing his resignation. Maks was going to kill him because he already knew where this was going.

"Okay, bring your ass here as soon as you can," Partyka threw as expected before hanging up while Aleks barely managed to open his mouth. After a few beats, he dropped his hand with the phone and looked up.

Kostek was glaring at him with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. When he caught his gaze, he shook his head incredulously and turned around, rubbing the back of his head in frustration. "Fuck," he muttered, looking helpless.

Aleks glared back. "I've gotta go," he said harshly, not wanting to listen to this. He was going to have enough hassle with Maks. Damn, he'd warned that he was going to be unavailable today. What could have happened? Or was it another one of Partyka's whims?

​"Yeah, I know you do," Kostek sneered. "Just don't come to me when it ends badly, and it will," he emphasized. "Aleks?" he added softly when they were already by the door. "You're not going to college, are you?"

He sounded like he already knew the answer. Aleks paused, torn. "I don't know yet," he said impassively.

"You're going to have results soon—"

"I said I don't know yet," Aleks snarled, pushing the door and leaving without another word. He hadn't forgotten about the exams, but he'd been actively trying not to think about them, which had been pretty easy lately.

He was aware that Kostek left the building right after him and was watching as he opened the passenger door of Maks' car and got in. He curled up his right leg, callously propping the sole of his foot on the seat, raised his hand that still held the phone, and rubbed his face tiredly, aware of Maks' eyes scrutinizing him.
​
​"You have to go, don't you?" Maks surmised, reaching for the gearbox, putting in reverse, and slowly leaving the parking lot. Aleks finally looked at him. "What? I know that face. It's your 'please go easy on me' face. Where should I drop you off?" he asked curtly.

Aleks blinked, startled, because he must have missed the moment when Maks had ultimately figured him out. "You don't need to give me a ride. I can go by myself," he said hesitantly, gulping and cursing himself. He was so disconcerted that he was bailing on him again, that he couldn't even look him in the eye. "Look, it's an emergency," he lied. He had no idea whether it was an emergency or not.

"No worries," Maks said coolly. He didn't even sound mad. He sounded resigned. Aleks would have preferred mad. "Tell me where to go." Aleks opened his mouth to object, but Maks didn't let him. "Come on, they're not going to shoot me on sight, are they?" he mocked.

"No," Aleks muttered. "Right on Annopol Street," he gave up.

They were silent except for Aleks giving directions. Maks apparently decided to pretend that everything was fine and that he wasn't mad at all. Aleks would have said something if he had any justification, but he didn't, so he kept quiet. The silence was unbearable.

"You can park here," Aleks said after several long minutes.

"It's here?" Maks asked, pulling over.

"There," Aleks said reluctantly, pointing at the building on the other side of the street and still a bit away from them. "Don't stay here," he instructed him quietly.

Maks nodded slowly. "Hey." He stopped Aleks when he reached for the handle. "Be careful, okay?" he whispered.

Aleks forced a smile. "Always," he assured, getting out of the car. Maks followed him with his eyes when he pulled his hood up and walked away quickly before crossing the street and disappearing inside.

He didn't listen to him. He spent another two minutes watching the entrance. So this was the mysterious place Aleks disappeared to regularly. It wasn't how he'd imagined. It was almost inconspicuous. Somehow, even though he could tell that there was something there—a restaurant or a club of sorts—he wouldn't have been tempted to go in if he hadn't known about it beforehand. That was probably the point. After all, the club-restaurant thing was only a cover for a meeting place for people at odds with the law. Or for a money laundromat. Or both.

A shiver went down his spine at the mere thought that Aleks had gone inside and was there now, and whatever shady machinations were happening at the moment, he was a part of them. But Maks had known that before, and there was nothing he could do about it, so with the last sigh, he started the car and headed back towards the city center, leaving Żoliborz behind.

•~💥~•

Maks couldn't remember ever spending so much time at work out of his own free will. Seven p.m. came and went, and he was still sitting here, gaping at the computer screen and repeating the lyrics to 'WU5818Y' in his head in different tempos, with emphasis on different words, searching for the perfect rendition. It was almost eight when he started to get sick of this song and noticed that the girls from the department of EU projects were getting up to leave, and they all could have 'overtime' as a middle name. He decided it was a sign, packed up, and got into the elevator. Every time he left this damn office, he felt like he was getting back the ability to breathe. He paused at the entrance, looking through his pockets, when he heard a honk. His head jerked up.

Aleks was looking at him from behind the sunglasses, even though the sun was already setting, raising his eyebrows evocatively. Maks smiled before remembering that he was still mad at him for staying out all night and only sending one useless text not to worry as an explanation, or the lack thereof. He stopped smiling and started heading slowly towards him, while Aleks drove up and rolled down the window.

"Who did you scam out of their car?" Maks asked, leaning in and failing to keep his smile at bay.

"I didn't. I bought it," Aleks said, sounding smug and getting comfortable in the driver seat. Maks stepped away to take a good look. His vast knowledge of cars let him gauge that it was nice. Dark blue. Audi, of course. Aleks was crazy about Audi.

"Bought or were given?" he checked quietly.

"Bought," Aleks emphasized haughtily. "It's not a fucking company car."

Maks paused to wonder if the mafia provided company cars. He shook his head internally. "You had that much in your piggy bank?" he teased. Aleks scowled as he always did when Maks was making fun of his age, so he added quickly, "It's nice."

"Wanna go for a ride?" Aleks asked nonchalantly, his smile dimming a bit. "To make up for yesterday?"

He sounded nervous. Maks brightened up. "I don't know. Can you even drive this thing?" he asked cheekily, knowing it was the easiest way to piss him off.

As expected, Aleks' eyes narrowed. "The offer expires in three—two—" he counted snidely.

Maks put his hand on the open window, cutting him off. "Only if you won't blow me off this time to go to work."

"Today, I'm all yours," Aleks promised, raising his left hand to touch his fingers. Maks managed to keep from looking around wildly, because even if someone was around, they wouldn't notice such a small gesture. He still jerked his hand, but only to get in on the other side.
​
"Where are we going?" he asked when they got back to the main road, and Aleks put his foot down so hard that Maks felt pushed back into his seat.

"You'll see," Aleks said enigmatically with a side glance. "I wanted to take you there once already, but you ruined everything by saying I was drunk."

Maks laughed. "When?" he asked, bewildered.

"When we went to street racing. It would have been so romantic—"

"Romantic?" Maks mocked callously, remembering that night. "A sketchy drunk kid wanted to take me on a road trip in the middle of the night. Sounds more like the beginning of a slasher than a romance."

Aleks snorted. "Trust me, if you let me take you on a road trip, it would've been the beginning of a romance," Aleks assured arrogantly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"If you tried anything back then, I would have probably broken your nose," Maks pointed out frankly. Aleks looked at him for a long moment. "Jesus, eyes on the road," Maks admonished him, but his smile only got wider.

"You wouldn't have broken my nose," he stated firmly. "Even back then."

"I might have," Maks argued.

"You wanted me back then," Aleks informed him. "So badly. You would have never."

"Yeah, in your dreams," Maks mumbled nonsensically, wondering if it was the truth. He hadn't fully realized, that's for sure. But he'd been crazy jealous of Wiki, so that was probably proof enough. Not that he was going to admit it.

"We're here," Aleks said.

Maks noticed that they got off the ring road and looked around curiously. After Aleks turned off the engine, he got out of the car and peaked between the trees. He spent a moment gazing upon the still water surface and city lights shimmering in the distance. "How did you find this place?" he asked in awe.

Aleks took advantage of his momentary rapture to approach him soundlessly. "I bring all my victims here," he whispered right into his ear, making him jump.

He recovered quickly. "If you make it worth my while," he whispered back, grabbing his arms to wrap them around himself. Aleks obligingly pressed himself against his back. Maks looked up. "No stars," he noticed sadly.

"It's Warsaw. You can never see them here," Aleks muttered into his hair, then grasped his chin gently and lowered his head. "But look how beautiful she is."

Maks strained his eyes to see the beauty Aleks was talking about. He'd never considered Warsaw beautiful. A lot could be said about it, but it wasn't all that glamorous. "Yeah," he admitted half-heartedly, staring at the bright specks on the opposite bank. "It's kind of haphazard, though."

"She, not it," Aleks rebuked him. Right, Maks had forgotten that, according to him, Warsaw was a girl. He suspected that every time he was addressing some mysterious 'her' in his songs, he was actually talking about Warsaw. Aleks' love affair with this city was almost as fervent as his love affair with him. "And that's the whole point."

Well, by now, it... she... was inseparably linked to Aleks in Maks' mind. That made it beautiful enough.

"I'm nervous for tomorrow," he confessed out of the blue, and he felt Aleks nodding and kissing the back of his head.

"Me too. It's our big day. You first. Then me. We're gonna conquer the world," he proclaimed with the typical lack of modesty. Maks snorted. "Have you chosen the poem already?" he asked, and then raised his eyebrows when Maks stayed silent. "The exam is tomorrow, and you have no poem?" he panicked.

Maks smiled enigmatically. "I have," he assured him.

Aleks exhaled loudly. ​"Okay, good." He nodded to himself. "Do I know it?" he added curiously.

Maks tried very hard not to grin. "Maybe," he said cryptically. Aleks was looking at him oddly for a long moment, clearly not understanding the point of all this secrecy. "No one will see us from that shore, right?" Maks asked.

Aleks glanced at the empty boulevard on the other side of Vistula. "No one will see us, period," he assured him with a smirk, so Maks turned in his arms without hesitation and cupped his face. Aleks tilted his head to bring their lips together and closed his eyes, smiling to himself. Maks must have felt it, because he started smiling as well, and he really couldn't make out and smile at the same time. Every time he tried, something went wrong with his motor skills, and the whole thing just fell apart. It was rather anticlimactic. Aleks backed away, shaking with laughter.

"What's so funny?" Maks scorned him, trying to keep his face straight.

Aleks laughed even harder, leaning against the tree. "Your inability to multitask," he panted before grabbing the front of his shirt to pull him in. "Stop being all smiley and come here," he instructed, kissing his neck, then his chin and cheek. Maks sighed, tilting his head and tightening his hand in his hair to bring him closer.

He loved when Aleks was so close, they were almost melting together, like nothing could stand between them because there was simply no space left. They could let it happen here and now, with him pressing Aleks against the tree and Aleks pressing him against himself, so close that Maks could almost feel the blood pulsing in his veins, muscles flexing beneath his skin, and a loud beating of his heart. It was still astonishing. It made him feel both dopey and hyper at the same time. It was indescribable.

He decided to put a stop to it eventually because they were still in the city in public after all, and he knew if he didn't do it now, he wouldn't do it at all. Aleks would only get more zealous and snuggly from now on, and his good sense would evaporate. He had a point of no return, after which everything but the prospect of sex ceased to exist. Soon Aleks would be lost to the world, unfazed that they were in the woods, which would've normally disgusted him, and wouldn't even object when Maks turned him around abruptly, even though in any other circumstance he'd have looked at him incredulously and hissed, 'You must be insane if you think we're going to do it here'. A few more seconds, a couple more deliberate touches, and all his willpower would be gone.

Maks stepped back reluctantly, resting his forehead on Aleks' shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. Removing his hands took even more effort because he'd managed to get them under his jeans, which was no small feat because they were tight as fuck. It was also a real shame, because his ass was glorious, but he gathered all his internal strength and moved his hands up to Aleks' hips under the loose t-shirt.

They were silent for a long moment, breathing erratically. "Good reflexes," Aleks commended him quietly, looking up.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is?" he whined, because sure, Aleks would have allowed him to do anything he wanted; he was actually into it, both into being turned around abruptly and pressed forcibly against the nearest flat surface and into it happening in public. But it didn't mean that he wouldn't have grumbled afterwards about how Maks could have let that happen; it was so gross, someone could have seen them, and it was so irresponsible. Of course, pointing out that he hadn't exactly objected would've just put Maks at the end of a death glare. Aleks wasn't the most logical of creatures. "I don't know why I'm even trying this hard," he added callously.
​
​"Because you're not a caveman," Aleks teased, pulling him towards the car. "Come on, I'll help you." Maks looked down inadvertently. "Yes, with that," Aleks laughed. Maks liked when he was so lively; his eyes got vibrant and even greener, which was blatant even in dim light. Maks counted every time Aleks looked happy as his personal achievement.

They spent hours in the car, keeping the river view, even though Maks didn't focus on it too much at first. He'd never considered getting a blow job in a car—not to mention giving one in a car—something that should go on his bucket list. It seemed like one of the things that happened to adventurous people and not to him, but he could pretend he had so he could cross both off the list now. The car wasn't all that adapted for having other kinds of sex in it—not that they hadn't tried, but that must have worked only in movies.

Eventually they ended up with Aleks' propping his legs on Maks' lap after midnight, smug and leaning against the driver door, while Maks was browsing through his phone, scrutinizing his music choices. His playlists mostly consisted of hip-hop, but there were a few good bands, and Maks was mystified that someone Aleks' age listened to things like The Eagles. Or CCR. Did anyone even listen to CCR anymore? He laughed under his breath and moved on to Red Hot Chili Peppers when the phone complained loudly. He looked at Aleks, who had his eyes closed—apparently he loved 'Other side'—and pointed airily at the glove box.

Maks reached in blindly, and his fingers brushed the charger before brushing something else. He froze.

"What's this?" he asked, then peered inside to make sure and realized how stupid a question it was. He already knew what it was.

Aleks muttered something unintelligibly before grasping what he was talking about. He opened his eyes. "Nothing. Put it back," he instructed quietly, somehow managing to keep his cool.

Maks shook his head. "It's just lying here," he protested inanely, his voice higher than normal. He held back a dumb impulse to touch it. He was curious if it was as heavy as it looked. He'd never held a gun before.

"I know, I'll make a separate compartment for it," Aleks said calmly, having the audacity to act like it wasn't a big deal. "Tomorrow, when I go to the garage."

"In what alternate reality do mechanics make compartments for guns?" Maks asked, feeling way over his head.

Aleks snorted quietly. "Some do. You just need to know where—"

"What's it for?" Maks cut him off forcefully, pinning him with a glare.

Aleks shrugged. "Just in case."

"In case of what?" Maks exclaimed, feeling his control slip. "When exactly are you expecting to shoot somebody?

"I'm not," Aleks informed him stiffly. "But you never know—"

"Jesus, Aleks," Maks muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Are you insane? You're just going to keep it in your car? What if you get pulled over?"

"I won't get pulled over," Aleks assured him smoothly.

Maks looked at him like he couldn't believe he was being so thick. "Everyone gets pulled over sometimes," he stressed, not understanding what fucking world he lived in.

"Then there will be nothing suspicious about me at all. I'll be perfectly well behaved, and the car will be in top shape. And if the worst comes to the worst..." he paused. "...then I'll flee and make a phone call," he finished drolly.

Maks slumped, hid his face in his hands, and spent a long moment brooding. "Tell me," he said at last, his voice muffled, so he looked up reluctantly. "Are you ever going to be through with this? Or not? And honestly, because I'd rather know if I should hold my breath."
​
"Of course I am," Aleks huffed.

"Oh, that's great that it's so obvious to you. Because to me, it doesn't look like it at all."

"Jesus, do you think I can just go to them and say, 'Okay, it's been fun, but I'm out'?" Aleks scorned.

"How the fuck would I know?! I have no idea how these things work!" Maks burst out. "You've got tangled up in this mess, not me!"

​"Okay, so I have!" Aleks snapped. "What do you think it's gonna do if you tell me about it? It doesn't change shit!"

"So figure something out!" Maks shouted. "You say you're going to stop, so you've got to have a plan!"

"I'll stop," Aleks repeated stubbornly. "I just need to prove that I'm more beneficial rapping than doing anything else—"

"When's that going to be?" Maks asked point blank, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Aleks sighed. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "Soon," he added hesitantly, trying to convince them both.

Maks looked resigned. "Soon," he echoed flatly. "Right. Great." He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes.

Aleks watched him warily. "Maks," he whispered, reaching out to touch the side of his face. Maks didn't budge. "Listen, I know it all looks hopeless right now," he admitted, and Maks smiled bitterly at the understatement. "But we need to suck it up and wait it out. Because it's gonna get better. I just have to be subtle about it and keep playing for now. One wrong move can fuck it all up. But I know what I'm doing." He seemed confident, but Maks wanted to wince, because if their fate hinged on Aleks' subtlety, then they were already doomed. "So just trust me. In a few years, we're gonna laugh about it."

It sounded unbelievable and too good to be true. Maks really wanted to have faith that 'in a few years' even existed for them, but the deeper they got, the more impossible it seemed. Aleks might be able to picture it because he was a fucking dreamer, and although Maks would have considered it cute under any other circumstances, now he couldn't help but think that he was just stupid. Not dumb, just foolhardy, like kids were when they felt invincible. Before life verified that and proved them wrong. Then they wised up, if they managed to get to that point.

Fuck, he really hoped this little idiot was right.

"I will never laugh about it," he whispered, because there was nothing even remotely funny about the situation, and no amount of time was going to change that. He kept his eyes closed, so he didn't see Aleks frowning with concern.

"Maks," he repeated pleadingly. Maks had no idea what he was even asking for. He still didn't open his eyes, trying to sort his head out.

There was no point in fretting about how it was going to be in a few years. He only had what was here and now, and that was a deranged little shit who was simultaneously extremely driven and rather devil-may-care, which mixed up together would either get him killed or help him set the world on fire. He had freaking Aleks, and Aleks had a gun in his glove box, a homicidal boss, and way too much bravado. That was his reality, and maybe it was time to make peace with it. The gun in the glove box had made everything more palpable. He had chosen Aleks, and here Aleks was in all his glory.

He raised his hand to the fingers that were still caressing his cheek and brought them to his lips. He gave him a sideways glance and saw that Aleks was frowning, clearly baffled as to where this sudden display of affection had come from.

"Let's go home," Maks decided, slamming the glove box shut.

•~💥~•

He was still weak at his knees when he left the auditorium, and even though he tried to convince his body that it was all over, there was nothing to fear anymore. He spotted Aleks exactly where he'd left him, at the very end of the antechamber. He was scrolling through his phone, keeping to himself and ignoring the bunch of kids surrounding him, warming up their voices and dramatically declaiming long passages of Faust to whoever wanted to listen to them. Maks smirked and approached him.

"How did it go?" Aleks asked, standing up and putting down his phone as soon as Maks' shoes appeared in his sight.

"I think it went well," Maks said succinctly, then finally let himself smile when he saw Aleks brightening up. "They're probably googling you right now," he added casually, watching with satisfaction as Aleks frowned.

"Me?" he echoed, bemused. "Wait... what?"

Maks' smile turned into a grin. "Turns out you were right. Those scribbles of yours are actually poetry. Quite a good one, according to the staff of the National Academy of Dramatic Art."

He saw the exact moment when Aleks put two and two together, and his eyes widened.

"You..." he started, completely floored. "...didn't." He barked a high, unrestrained, slightly hysterical laugh, then pressed his hand to his mouth.

Maks raised both hands innocently. "Hey, it's out there. It's a widespread, circulating piece, open to scrutiny and interpretation. It's a fair game. I did credit you," he added as an afterthought.

By the time he ended his speech, Aleks was glowing. He bowed his head coyly. "Only you could come up with that."

Maks was going to reply when he heard a familiar female voice saying his name. He turned around abruptly and blinked. "What are you doing here?" he asked, taken aback.

She put her hands on her hips, glowering at him. "Don't worry, I'm not here to embarrass you," she placated him mockingly. "I've been trying to talk you into this for seven years. Have you really thought I would miss it?" She took a step forward, put her hand on his forearm, and gave him a benevolent smile. "I want to hear everything," she said, which sounded more like a demand than a request, before glancing past him. "I don't think we've met." She offered her hand before introducing herself, "Beata Kołodziejczyk, Maks' mom."

​Maks wanted to intervene somehow, create a diversion so everyone had to evacuate, and consequently, his mother and his boyfriend never exchanged a word, but he had no more than a second to plan it, because that's how long it took for Aleks to step forward. His eyes were a bit wide, and there was a barely discernible smile on his face, which indicated that he had some witty remark at the tip of his tongue, like, 'Had I known I would be meeting the mother-in-law, I would have dressed better'.

"Hi. Aleks. Moral support." He shook her hand, smiling effortlessly. It was a hell of a job. Maks himself almost believed that he had just come here as a courtesy to a friend because he'd had nothing better to do.

He watched helplessly as the smile dropped from his mother's face, replaced by a discomfited expression. She stared at Aleks motionlessly for a few seconds, and he stared at her, clearly at a loss for what he'd said wrong.

Fuck, couldn't he, for once in his life, have introduced himself as Olek?