***

The cats that had been shitting in Bjorn's mouth all night had scattered by dawn, leaving behind the disgusting taste of stale feces. The man's lips dried up, and he hardly opened them to take a deep breath. There was not a drop of moisture in his mouth. His tongue clung to his palate and swelled up. And his eyes hurt as if a handful of sand had been poured into them.

Bjorn reached out in search of water, which the obliging housekeeper always left on the bedside table, and accidentally knocked over a lamp that was unexpectedly placed there.

The lamp fell to the floor with a rumble, and the noise finally woke the man up.

It seems he was still drunk. And it seems like he wasn't at his house.

He searched the bed with his hand for the beautiful stranger who was sheltering him for the night, but found nothing but a dusty-smelling blanket and a lumpy pillow.

He had to get up and look for a way out, or at least a window, in the pitch blackness.

The room in which he slept was very small. He took three steps and then collided painfully with the wall, stumbling over something bulky. He cursed through his teeth and walked along the wall, trying to find a doorway, but bumped into a chair and then some sort of chest or low chest of drawers, and finally fell out into the narrow hallway. The man's arms, which he spread out to his sides, touched the opposite walls without difficulty.

"Hey, hottie, where are you hiding?" he called out, groping with his hands on the rough, damp walls in search of a light switch. "Answer me."

Silence.

No light switch. No mystery lady. Not even the light of a street lamp that could penetrate the window.

The hallway ended as abruptly as the room. Was he in a storeroom or something?

"Hey, honey, do you live in a closet? Come out. Where can you hide in here, anyway?"

He took another step and crashed into a new obstacle. There was a rustling sound to his left. Someone jumped up, sighed in amazement, and immediately fell into the man's arms.

"There you are, sweetheart." Bjorn laughed drunkenly and pulled the fragile beauty to him. "I've been waiting for you. Woke up and you were gone. Where did you run off to?"

His palm clenched on the skinny ass.

He didn't like girls like that. But right now he didn't care. If the girl took him to her place, it meant they liked each other.

"Let's go to bed, my beauty. I don't like to sleep alone..."

Toby's heart was beating against his ribs with such force that he found it hard to breathe. For a while he still didn't know what was going on. It was dark in the apartment, outside the window, too, and he was hugged tightly by a drunken big man whose obvious intentions rested on Toby's thigh.

"You don't like to sleep not only alone, but also in bed," Toby muttered, pulling himself out of the bear-like grip.

It was still hard to breathe. His heart pounded in his chest, and his voice trembled, just like the voice of someone in distress.

"I should have left you on the side of the road. You slept pretty well there."

"Holy shit!" Bjorn exhaled, opening his arms and letting go of the guy, whose voice he recognized at once.

The tiny kitchen was immediately illuminated by a bright light, and the man stared dumbfounded at the already familiar guy. His face was pale and sleepy and frightened. His mascara was smeared under his eyes, accentuating the dark circles.

"Oh, shit!" Bjorn cursed again and took a step back, but immediately bumped into the table. "Damn! What a shed for midgets!"

Toby's apartment was really quite small, if not tiny, but it didn't look like a shed. Well, except for the old furniture and the old-fashioned wall decoration, but both were solid and looked decent.

"This is my apartment," the guy said with a frown, clearly offended by the man's words, and then pointed toward the front door. "And if you feel cramped in here, Herr Gulliver, you're welcome to go outside. It's more spacious out there."

"Chill out, kiddo," the man said, and sat down helplessly in the chair, which creaked dangerously beneath him. "Put yourself in my place. I woke up in the closet under the stairs. I hugged a guy. And, worst of all, I don't remember a damn thing about yesterday. Are you even of legal age?" he asked hopefully.

Tobias looked sullenly at the man and shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes," he answered and turned away. "I'll make you some coffee."

The guy quickly turned on the stove and placed the kettle on top to boil.

"It's instant coffee. Lilliputians don't have any other kind. And thanks to the autograph of one arrogant knucklehead, there won't even be instant this month."

"I don't understand what you're muttering about..."

Bjorn was looking around melancholically, studying the place.

Peeling walls with mildew patterns. A damp stain was visible in the corner of the ceiling. And on the floor, there was a handleless pan collecting water slowly. Shabby furniture, shabby utensils. And in the midst of all this, there was the guy, looking like a scarecrow, who had neither a phone nor regular coffee.

"Where are your parents?" the man asked, ignoring the guy's grumbling.

"I don't have parents," Toby replied, and instinctively shrank back.

He didn't know why, but talking about his parents, whom he remembered very vaguely, made him nervous.

"Do you want coffee with sugar? I don't have milk, so I don't offer it."

"No milk... No parents." the man said sadly, and asked for a coffee without sugar. "Who do you have? Does someone else live here?"

"No. I'm the only one who lives here."

Toby poured boiling water into the cup, stirred the coffee with a spoon, and placed the cup in front of the man. Then he glanced at the clock with a sense of regret.

It's 3:30 a.m., almost time to get up for work.

Oh, shit!

Toby sighed softly and sat down in a chair. Then he folded his hands on the tabletop and rested his forehead on them.

He could use some coffee, too, but there were only a few spoons left in the jar, and he thought it best to save it for when he really needed it.

"You're weird," Bjorn pronounced, and took a sip of the absolutely disgusting coffee. Then he asked, looking thoughtfully out the window, where it was still dark: "So, you live alone, you go to work to maintain this... this place, and you pick up drunks on the street? Why?"

He looked puzzled at the guy, who seemed to be asleep.

Toby opened his eyes, which were sore from lack of sleep, and turned his head toward the man. Herr Dalgaard, disheveled and still boozy, was sitting in a crooked chair, looking as important as if he were conducting an interview.

It made the guy laugh, and he smiled.

"That's my hobby. I can't walk past all sorts of..." he looked openly at the frowning man and bit his tongue. "Is it wrong to help people?"

"It all depends on the situation," the man grinned. "It's very beneficial to pick up drunken boss and give him a cup of coffee. But picking up everybody is dangerous. I hope you're careful what you do."

"I did it for no benefit."

The guy scowled resentfully and rubbed his itchy nose, and thought that, of course, it was for a benefit. But not for the one the man might have thought.

Tobias liked Herr Dalgaard. He had noticed the man long ago, when he had not even thought of working as a courier for the firm. The handsome stately man, a regular at the neighborhood bar, caught his eye at once. And when Toby saw him at his new job and got a better look, he lost his mind. He knew he wasn't going to get nothing, but no one forbade him to dream.

And he quietly and inconspicuously dreamed while remaining just an observer.

"Not for a benefit," Bjorn mocked the guy, taking a gulp of the disgusting drink and wincing as if it were painful. "Anyway, with coffee like that, benefit was really out of the question. There's only harm in it."

He checked his pockets again and cursed loudly.

"Do you have any money?" Bjorn asked, not counting on a positive answer.

The guy shook his head dejectedly and mumbled: "Just for the bus."

Bjorn sighed sorrowfully.

"What about a shower? Is there a shower here? I can't go to work looking so squalid."

"Yes, but you won't like it," Toby grinned, imagining the man startled by the rush of cold water pouring from the hose hanging from the wall. "Come, I'll show you."

Tobias stood up from his chair and walked out of the kitchen into the hallway.

"It's right here," he pointed to a nondescript door and grinned mockingly. "It's a complicated system, but I can assist if you need it. I can help with rubbing your back or holding... the hose."

Bjorn entered the shower room and whistled in amazement, admiring the device. But the drunken goon had no choice, so he nodded gratefully.

"Will you tell me your name?" the man asked, quickly unbuttoning his shirt.

"Tobias. You can just call me Toby."

"Thank you, Toby. Would it be too much of an intrusive thing if I asked for a towel?"

Bjorn took off his shirt and, looking around, hung it on a vacant plastic hook.

Toby froze, admiring the man's strong and very handsome body.

With a clear pattern of muscles, Herr Dalgaard's torso was truly magnificent. And the guy stared at it, unable to look away.

"Toby, hello!" the man called and waved his hand in front of the guy's eyes.

"What?" the guy blinked in confusion and took a step back.

Bjorn laughed.

"Can you give me a towel?" he repeated his question.

The guy nodded and popped out of the bathroom.

"I'm such a fool!" he was swearing quietly to himself while rummaging through the closet. His face burned with shame, and the image of the man was still before his eyes. "What an idiot. What a shame!"

He squeezed a clean, fresh towel and pressed his forehead against the closet door.

After taking a few deep breaths to clear his thoughts, Toby returned to the man.

"Here you are." The guy handed a soft towel to his midnight guest and quickly turned away, as the man was now standing in front of him only in his underwear.

"Thank you." The man took off his underpants and stood under the hose. He turned the valve, but the water didn't come out. "Hmm... Explain to me how it works," he asked.

Toby looked away and strode forward, pulling an inconspicuous lever. And immediately he jumped aside, dodging a stream of freezing water.

The man cursed amusingly and got under the shower. He quickly soaped himself with the shower gel he could find and put his face under the powerful jet, appreciating the refreshing effect of icy water after a night of heavy drinking.

And Toby stared at him again, unable to stop gazing at the gorgeous and svelte body. But then he came to his senses and quietly left the shower to find a bathrobe for the man.

The bathrobe, unfortunately, was the only one in his house. However, the bath paraphernalia smelled good and was quite fresh. Taking it, Toby went back to the man, who had already completed his bath routine, and was now drying himself with a towel.

"Here, take it. It's clean. I wore it only once."

"Thanks." Bjorn said and stroked the guy's hair like a helpful puppy. "You're a good guy, though you look kind of creepy with your makeup."

The bathrobe was narrow at the shoulders and didn't fully close, but he put it on regardless. Then he took his clothes and left the bathroom.

The guy followed him.

"Can you show me where the bus stop is?" Bjorn asked, going back into the small kitchen. "Or we could go to work together. I'm in no hurry."

"I'd like to sleep some more," Toby admitted.

"All right. I'll ask someone for directions," the man took pity on him and started getting dressed. "When you come to work, stop by my office. I'll inform my assistant that you'll be coming."

"For what?" Toby looked at the man, feeling a nasty, bitter lump rising in his throat. "Why would I come to you?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" Bjorn grinned. "I'll write you a reprimand and place it in your personnel file," he joked and winked at the guy. "And if you don't come in, I'll fire you."

Tobias blanched at the threat.

No, he couldn't lose his job. Not now, when his life was just starting to get better.

"Okay. But can we do without the fines this time? Otherwise I'd have to forget about transportation, too. And it's a long walk from here to the office."

"What else did you forget about?" Bjorn asked as he buttoned his shirt.

"It doesn't matter," the guy waved it off. Not to complain, after all, that for the last year he had forgotten what normal life was all about. "Just don't fine me, that's all."

He tried to smile, but the smile was crooked and hesitant.

"I think I'll make that phrase the slogan of my subordinates," Bjorn laughed.

Then he said goodbye to the guy and left.

When the door closed behind the man, Toby made his way into the bedroom and fell tiredly on the bed. The room had the heavy smell of booze, and the plaid still smelled of the man's expensive cologne.

However, the guy didn't pay any attention to it anymore. The fatigue was so intense that he immediately fell asleep.

An hour and a half later, the alarm clock rang.

Toby had to wake up, get under the cold water; complain and shiver under the icy jets, and pray not to catch a cold.

There was nothing in the fridge. Toby had to go without breakfast again. And without coffee as well. So he went to work not only terribly tired, but also sleepy and hungry.

When he reached the office, the first thing he did was look in on Fru Brehl. The woman greeted him warmly as usual, and gave him a cup of tea, along with a few coins to buy a bun, before sending him off to work.

Toby hadn't forgotten his boss's orders. However, he wanted to prioritize some important tasks first. But there was so much to do that in the end he completely forgot about the need to visit his Big Boss.