***

Over the next few days, Bjorn observed Toby like a stalker, inexplicably trying to detect signs of gayness in him.

Toby showed no interest in the men around him. And that appeared suspicious to Bjorn.

When Bjorn was Toby's age, he had eyes on his head wanting to fuck everything that moved.

Toby was different.

He was withdrawn and secretive, concealing behind makeup and long black bangs. Rarely did a smile grace his lips; he slept little and barely ate. Additionally, he had an endearing habit of biting his lip piercing when deep in thought or feeling embarrassed.

All those shiny metal beads and piercing rings captivated the man. But most of all he was fascinated by his own fantasies about where else such erotic surprises might lurk.

If Toby were a girl, Bjorn would already be attracted to him. After all, despite the fact that there was nothing erotic about Toby, even imagining that he had a vagina and boobs, Bjorn still couldn't get the guy out of his head.

The man even got drunk a few times, hoping Toby would pick him up at the bar, but all he got was a boil on his ass from sitting on the cold curb for so long.

It was a very unpleasant experience, leading Bjorn to the hospital to have the boil lanced. And this killed the man's desire to freeze his balls in anticipation of a «miracle» for quite some time.

Then there was a sudden two-week business trip.

And when Bjorn returned to Denmark, the rainy season began.

Without knowing why, he eagerly anticipated lunch. But when he didn't find Toby in the dining room, he was upset.

Bjorn was bored. He was used to having lunch with Toby, whose views were already mature enough to have pleasant conversations with him.

And now Toby didn't come to work. Or he did, but he hid from him, unwilling to accept a «handout».

Bjorn hurried to his office and made some inquiries about Toby.

It turned out that Toby had taken a few days off for unknown reasons, but when his leave ended, he never returned to work.

Growing concerned, Bjorn decided to visit Toby to check if everything was okay.

Bjorn had to knock on the dilapidated door long and persistently until it finally opened.

"Where's Toby?" Bjorn asked stupidly, looking at the white-haired guy.

The guy's nose was red and swollen, just like the skin under his eyes. His cheeks were flushed and there were drops of sweat on his forehead.

"Are you drunk?" The blond guy asked in Toby's voice and coughed hoarsely.

"Toby?" Bjorn raised his eyebrows in amazement and laughed. "What a transformation! You dyed your hair?"

"Definitely drunk," the guy said, taking a step back and leaning heavily against the wall. "Why are you here?"

Toby could hardly stand on his feet. During the days of his illness his body weakened so much that his legs refused to hold him up. The fever hadn't gone down for a few days, and it was making Toby dizzy.

"You didn't show up for work."

"And you decided to personally inform me of my dismissal?" Toby hissed weakly. "Come in at last! And close the door. It's cold."

Bjorn obediently stepped over the threshold, noting that Toby's apartment was so damp that he could grow mushrooms in it. The rain had already soaked the ceiling and started on the walls, where new mold flowers were blooming. Water was dripping pitifully into a pot in the kitchen. Or rather, into several pots. And the guy caught a cold, which was not surprising in this dank cold.

"I'm not going to fire you. I was just worried, because no one's looking out for you".

"That's not true," for some reason, the guy was offended and wrapped himself in a blanket, trying to keep warm. "My aunt keeps an eye on me. Sometimes".

Toby sat down in a wobbly chair, but immediately stood up and apologized to his guest.

"I'm sorry. I'm a little out of it. Must be the fever again. Have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

"Sit down!" Bjorn said sternly and looked at the guy with a frown.

He could hardly believe the truthfulness of Toby's words. If the guy had really been looked after, he would hardly have been in such a deplorable situation.

"Where does your aunt live?"

Toby called a street, and the man whistled.

It's a fairly affluent neighborhood. There's certainly no slums like that there. And this is called «looking after»? Looking after what? To keep the mold on the walls?

"Are you taking any medicine?" Bjorn asked, looking around the tiny kitchen with a more picky eye.

Toby nodded and pointed to a miserable stack of cheap pills that lay on the cutting table by the stove.

On the one hand, it's good that the guy doesn't take newfangled drugs, but on the other hand, these drugs don't seem to help him.

And yet, how strange he is without his gloomy bangs. Cute, even. With a rather pretty face, covered now and then by beads of sweat. And he looks so...

If Toby were a girl, Bjorn would surely lose his head.

"Go to bed," said the man tiredly, and looked out the window, behind which the rain was drizzling. "Now!"

Toby shook his head, refusing to comply, and stubbornly looked at his boss.

"It's rude to be lounging around when there's a guest in the house."

He reached for a cup, put it on the table, and turned on the kettle.

"Have a seat, Herr Dalgaard. I'll make you some tea, and then I'll go to bed."

"No, you will go now, or I will drag you away by force."

The guy looked very expressively at Bjorn, as if he doubted that the man would carry out his threat. And Bjorn didn't need more than that. He caught Toby deftly, lifted the guy off the floor, and dragged him into the bedroom.

And, gods, how hot he was! Like a little furnace. And his breathing was heavy and wheezing.

The man's overbearing actions made Toby dizzy. Herr Dalgaard's strong arms clasped him tightly in an embrace, pressing him to the broad chest, and the guy closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the scent of expensive cologne.

Suddenly Toby didn't want to fight back and be strong. He just wanted to relax and feel small and weak. He wanted to feel someone's affection and care for him, even if it was so rough and inept. And this burning desire brought tears to his eyes.

"I can do it myself... Let go..." he mumbled very quietly and uncertainly, pressing himself a little harder against the man and hiding his face on Herr Dalgaard's shoulder.

But Bjorn ignored the guy's words. He carried Toby into the bedroom and laid him on the bed.

The sheet, duvet cover, and pillowcase were humid. But from sweat or dampness, it was hard to tell.

"It's impossible to live in this shithole," the man said, covering Toby with a blanket. "Tell me why you live in a «garbage dump» while your aunt lives in a normal house? And don't lie to me, or, I swear to God, I'll throw you out of a job."

"I told you before," the guy muttered. "My uncle thinks I'm contagious. And that my gayness would pass on to them if I hung around them. I had to leave. My aunt helps, of course, but she's not easy, either. Her husband is a tyrant and a jerk, and all she has to do is accept it."

"You only talked about your supposed illness..." Bjorn stared at the guy.

He thought about how to help this poor guy from dying of disease and mold. He thought about how to make life easier for Toby, so he wouldn't think it was a handout or a bribe. Thought about what the hell he needed all this for, but... The guy's bright, expressive eyes looked straight into his soul.

Big eyes. Beautiful.

"Sleep," the man advised and stroked Toby's wet hair. "I'll call the doctor. Your pills aren't working. And I don't know anything about pharmaceuticals."

"You don't have to call the doctor," Toby murmured, closing his eyes.

Herr Dalgaard's hand was very soft and cool, and the guy involuntarily reached for it, caressing his large palm.

"You don't need to call anyone. I'm fine."

"You're not fine. What if you get worse?" Bjorn asked.

Toby only shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know the answer to that question.

The guy fell asleep after a while. He was tossing and coughing at first, but then he calmed down and fell asleep quietly. Bjorn, brooding and frowning, sat next to Toby until he passed out. And then he called a doctor he knew and briefly described the symptoms.

It turned out that Toby only had a bad cold, which with proper care and treatment will quickly go away.

After writing down the names of the medicines, Bjorn called the pharmacy and ordered home delivery. And then he returned to the guy's bedroom.

Toby lay with his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. His cheeks were flushed, and the pale skin of his neck and arms was covered with a scattering of goosebumps.

"Herr Dalgaard," he called out when he saw the man, and his lips quivered. "I like you. I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to. Truly..."

"Sleep," the man said somberly, covering the guy with the blanket again. "And forget this stupid thing. I'm not the one you want."

Toby nodded and turned away, crying softly. Then he fell asleep again. And when he woke up, he remembered nothing.

Toby didn't want to get up, but his thirst drove him out of bed. So he got out from under the covers and went into the kitchen.

Herr Dalgaard was still with him.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked, sitting the guy down on a chair.

"That's better. Thanks."

"Sorry, but I had to «admire» your skinny ass to give you an injection."

"You're kidding, right?"

Toby was hot in an instant, and he looked at the man anxiously.

"No, I'm quite serious. It didn't work the first time, so I not only «admired» it, but I groped heartily."

"I'm sorry I inconvenienced you," Toby apologized, barely breathing with excitement.

How?! How could he have slept through that?! What is this terrible injustice?!

"Never mind," Bjorn said. "It was an interesting experience for me."

Toby nodded.

"Still, I'm sorry. In fact, I rarely get sick, but this time I was unlucky. I'm going to work tomorrow. Honestly."

"No, the doctor has prescribed bed rest, which will last at least five days. So you will be resting."

Bjorn looked intently at the guy, trying to catch in his gaze the confession of yesterday, but Toby diligently hid his eyes.

Maybe Toby was just delusional?

Toby didn't know what to do with his embarrassment. His vivid imagination painted an exciting picture of the therapeutic procedure, lavishly spicing it up with piquant details. And so the man's words did not immediately reach his consciousness.

But as soon as he realized what Herr Dalgaard had said, a wave of indignation swept over him.

"What do you mean, five days?! Who's going to pay for my living expenses? I have to work!"

Bjorn laughed and assured Toby that he would be paid for his sick leave. Then he ordered the guy to take good care of his health and left.

***

The man spent the next week in a drunken stupor. After work, he would go to a bar and try to use the alcohol to erase the words of confession that were etched into his memory.

By the time the place closed, it was even working out. And Bjorn would crawl out of the bar in a happy oblivion, free from his sober anxieties.

One day he ran into Toby again. The guy picked him up lying almost in a puddle, and with a kind of quiet desperation asked:

"Why do you get so drunk, Herr Dalgaard? It's dangerous!"

The man laughed. And he laughed so hard that he even went hoarse.

"I'm bored, Toby," he confessed, struggling to his feet. "And I'm sick of everything. Do you understand me?"

"Not really."

Tobias gently put his arm around the man's waist, forcing him to keep upright and not fall, and immediately swayed as Herr Dalgaard hung on him with his whole body.

"But I understand something. Do you have money for a taxi? If not, you can stay at my apartment... If you want, of course."

"I haven't wanted anything for a long time, and when I do, I don't know what I want."

Bjorn smiled and hugged the guy. For no reason at all. Just because he wanted to do it and he could do it.

"Do you want me to make you a bed by the lantern?" Tobias joked, feeling quite idiotically happy that the man was hugging him. "Let's go to my apartment. I have a couch now. A big one. You can unfold it, and it'll be almost like a normal bed. Come on. Get some sleep."

Bjorn nodded obediently. And the guy dragged him back to his house.

***

It was a pleasure to sleep on the old, but comfortably squashed couch. But that pleasure did not last long. The dampness of the night soaked the bedding, making it uncomfortable and damp, and Bjorn woke up.

He was ungodly drunk, which made him feel as if the walls of the cramped room were dancing desperately. The man tried to sit up, but the room tumbled, laying him on his shoulder blades. He tried again. And he finally succeeded.

He wanted to pee and pass out until the morning. Still, he had to force himself to get up and go in search of a bathroom, which was found behind one of the doors.

Bjorn began to look for the way back, but finally got lost in the doors and entered the first room he could find.

There was a bed, and someone was sleeping in that bed. Someone very hot, half-naked, and fragile.

"Don't flinch," Bjorn asked, raking the guy's frail figure in his arms. "I'm freezing to death. I'll warm up a bit and go away. Don't be afraid..."

Panic gripped Toby and subsided as soon as he heard the man's deep and very soft voice. But the fear did not disappear. It pulsed through his veins in waves of adrenaline, curled into a tight, prickly ball somewhere in his stomach, came up to his throat in a stiff lump. And the guy's heart was pounding so desperately in his chest, beating so frantically against his ribs that it seemed to be heard across town.

And the man had already climbed under the blanket and snuggled up to Toby, powerfully embracing his suddenly slack body.

Herr Dalgaard's skin was indeed cold, and his hands were quite icy. The man lay down as he was comfortable, and Toby ventured...

Herr Dalgaard was drunk, and therefore he would unlikely remember anything in the morning. Besides, he was cold, and in this apartment he could not get warm that easily. So Toby took a few liberties. He rolled onto his other side and, leaning against the man's strong chest, put his arm around the man, letting his skinny leg between the man's strong, hard thighs.

"It's warmer," he said, as if apologizing, stroking his boss's back lightly with his trembling fingertips.

"No doubt," approved Bjorn, and pressed his cold palms mercilessly to the guy's back.

The little ball of warmth tensed and pressed harder into him, teasing the man's dick with his skinny thigh.

"You're very puny," Bjorn said, relaxing. "But very warm. And silly. I'm drunk, after all, and I could do something shameless to you."

Toby smiled, feeling his heart begin to leap out of his chest.

"You won't," he whispered confidently, holding his breath. "You're a good man, and you wouldn't hurt me."

"I didn't say I was going to hurt you," the man replied, covering his eyes. "Sleep. And don't make yourself look ugly with makeup again. You're very handsome when you're natural. Very charming."

"And unsightly," the guy either agreed or objected, letting himself relax in Herr Dalgaard's warm hands. And then unexpectedly to himself he said: "Thank you for not shying away from me. For not being squeamish. It is warm with you. It is very, very warm with you today."

Bjorn smiled.

Warm, huh?

That was something he had never been told in bed before.

He laughed, and when the guy tensed frightened, he pulled Toby closer to him and stroked his hair soothingly.

"It's okay, Toby. I realize what I'm doing. And I won't fault you for my actions. Don't worry about it."

The man's voice was soothing and reassuring. And the heat from his strong body warmed Toby's heart, penetrating to the soul.

Toby didn't answer. He just nodded and snuggled into the hug and fell asleep a few minutes later, for the first time in months without shuddering from the cold and the urge to cry out loud.