"What irony," Alec says, shaking his head and ruffling his already messy hair. Fluidly, his slender fingers glide through the silky black. My fingertips tingle at the memory of my hands buried deep in this dying beauty.
"You can't escape this. Being gay doesn't just go away because your coach would like it that way. I hate guys like that. Really, who do they think they are to decide whether athletes should be gay, bi, lesbian, straight or pan. What's it to your boss that you prefer to kiss guys or regularly get strapped to the St. Andrew's cross in a BDSM club. Nothing. It's simply none of these people's business and in this day and age, it shouldn't fucking matter who we love, what sex we have, or whether Adam would have preferred to take John to the Garden of Eden," I vent about the still so narrow-minded world we live in, Alexander's world, which he is exposed to anew every day.

"I do know that. Believe me, if anyone knows, it's me. Magnus, you can't even begin to imagine what I've been through," he replies, shaking his head slightly again. I have observed this gesture far too often this afternoon. Alec's stories are filled with life and every word reflects his feelings. Once again I wonder how he manages not to choke on the abundance of secrets and untruths.
"That's not all, is it? You're hiding a lot more and longer than I suspect?", I ask. Alec nods and, lost in thought, he strokes the velvety green of the pool table.
"Do you play?" Alec tries to steer the awkward conversation in another direction. But he doesn't get off that easily.

"No. No idea how to do that. I've never played pool before. I know the stick is called a cue, though, and there are eight balls."
"Not quite true. There are sixteen balls and classically they are made of ivory. So they were very precious and expensive. Ivory is very soft and by playing, the balls wore out quickly," Alec improves me. Of course, he also knows about this sport.
"Nowadays, synthetic resin or high-quality plastic is used. This makes them very robust, and the running and impact properties are precise. Billiards is extremely popular in school and recreational facilities. We had a table in the recreation room of the performance center of my first professional league club. Those were really great relaxing evenings, after we had spent hours and hours struggling over the court. Anyway... that was a long time ago and it wasn't always good. What I wanted to say, the balls are numbered by color. The white ball, which is what you can call the balls, is the game ball and the others are called object balls. Did you know that there are about 35 different types of games? The most popular one is pool. I have a house in Maine and I have a pool table there, too."

Great.
"I'd like to show you something," he says almost shyly, even lowering his eyes. Alec reaches for the white ball, ball, whatever, and I follow its course, hearing the clacking sound of plastic colliding and colors scattering in all directions.
"That's how I feel some days. I am the white ball, the colored ones are paths, directions in my life. Looking at the arrangement, I wonder how my life would have gone if the full blue two hadn't gotten a stub from the half green fourteen, but had just landed straight in the right corner pocket? Would that have been the turn of events? The impulse to stand up and say I've had enough of your hypocrisy? I don't feel like having petty sex, with no feelings, just because the guy has a dick? Would that have been the moment? How many times have I asked myself that question over the years. I'm rarely alone in Maine. Another thing I can't really get a handle on since my pro contract and time in the performance center. I deeply hate being alone and when my family doesn't accompany me to Maine, which they almost never do really, I get a boy from a reputable agency. I enjoy this time, put the noise in my head on mute and fuck the brains out of this strange guy. A guy who doesn't care who I am, how much money I have in my bank account or that my name is listed in the top ten in the world. I don't even know their names. When they enter my house, they take off everything. Their clothes and also their name. I look at the guy and the first name that pops into my head is his for the duration of the stay. And the guys don't care about that either. The main thing is that at the end of the week he gets his money and I don't do him any physical harm. One of them was especially good, Kyrian. Shit, he really let me do almost everything to him. He would have loved to have had one or two more cocks in him. That was a wild one I tell you. It satisfies me, for the moment. No question, sex is horny. But at the latest, when I feel English soil under my feet, the satisfaction and euphoria is gone. Then the naked ice-cold truth hits me unchecked and I have to be careful not to sink into the next depressive hole." How Alec talks about it like it's the most normal thing in the world to go to a vacation home on the other side of the world, get a guy and fuck until all urges are satisfied. Discreet, someone who doesn't ask questions. For the right price, you get everything.

"Maine?", I ask incredulously. Maine. Boys. Buys boys for sex. What the hell?
"Yeah, why? Is that a problem?"
"No. Yes. I have to process that first," I croak and clear my throat theatrically conspicuously to clear the lump in my throat. Would he have paid me, too? Back then, in autumnal wet and cold London.
"So... My brother invited me. To Maine. We get together in Maine every year around this time. Along with his wife and kids. Jonathan accompanied me... actually and the boys will be disappointed he's not there. Anyway. I'm not going." Even if Ragnor will rip my head off for it.

"Why not? Is it because of JoJo?" asks Alec, and I close my eyes for a moment. Just briefly, for a blink, ignoring the squeezing feeling in my chest.
"No, this has nothing to do with him at all, and under the circumstances, I wouldn't want him around either. I don't know if I could stand to be near him."
"Why? Do you still love him?"
"We were a couple for eight years, Alec. That's almost a full decade. You think that's just going to pass me by without a trace? I'm not that heartless. Jonathan is hurt and angry, and even though I deeply condemn his actions, I can also understand him somewhere. He was not innocent in our situation, just as I was. We had a crisis and just couldn't make it out of the spiral of doubts and clinging to times long past. But to experience it like this? What could be worse than catching your partner with your ex? The first love? You broke his heart back then. I had rarely seen Jonathan as confused as he was last night. He was so afraid to see you again. Not because of you, your past and the memories. No, because of me. Because you, Alec, are just the type of man where my mind stops working and surrenders completely to the desire of my urges. Touch me with your little finger and I'll be on my knees, begging you, just so I can take your cock.... Do you understand what I'm saying?" Alec nods, the telltale glint in his eyes. Fuck.

"I don't know how I would have reacted. If I was in his place and you were making out with another guy in front of me. You're like a whirlwind. Tearing everything down and leaving nothing but chaos. In my head, in my life. Why didn't you just stay in London? Then we could have... He wouldn't have done those things," I scream, clawing my fingers painfully into the dark wood of the table's edge. Deaf pain overlays the images in my head. Jonathan's face contorted with rage, his black eyes splashing with venom, and his heated skin. His hand at my throat and rushing blood in my ears.
"What happened last night?" asks Alec in a strained voice.
"Nothing," I answer tonelessly.
"I don't believe you."
"You don't have to. You don't know me, and you don't know what it feels like to have everything you think you know fall apart. Jonathan lost his temper. He wasn't himself, and I'm not defending him. But just put yourself in his shoes for once. Jonathan loved you, he loved me. We betrayed him and who does he blame? Me. Yet he's been letting that disgusting guy fuck him for months or years. The outlet for his anger was me. He's got... Anyway, it's none of your business."
"You bet it's my business. Magnus, I do care about you. Yes, I shouldn't have left you alone with him. No, it's not all your fault. Talk to me. That's the only way this can work. I've told you about me. Now it's your turn. What happened," Alec says forcefully and I shake my head, snorting.
"You happened," I retort.
"You and your dick."