Sex in C Major

But once the money was gone and the package ordered, Stefan dropped the phone on the mattress and looked around the flat. It had been hope last night, with the cello's notes warbling off the walls, but now...it was a prison again. And not the excitement of Daz keeping him for use, but a real prison. With a cage on the door to keep out his smackhead neighbours, a closet stacked with shit to keep his only treasured possession hidden, and not a single photo on the walls of any of his family.

Because they didn't exist anymore.

Nobody existed for Stefan anymore. It was just him, in this shitty flat he didn't even own. If he dropped dead this instant, nobody would bloody well notice. He'd get his five minutes of fame when he ended up in the local newspaper after someone bust in to fix the roof in ten years and found his skeleton on a rotten old mattress. And even next door wouldn't have noticed the smell, because of the damp problem.

That was his future.

Stefan shook himself when he caught his thumb rubbing over the scars on his arm, and picked up the phone again. Nope. Not going down that road. He'd been there before, and it had landed him in a hospital under watch for forty-eight hours on a female-only ward. If he was going to go down that road again, he'd do it properly.

And shitty as this existence was...he still had the bruises on his skin from Daz's hands. Yesterday, he had been wanted. Had felt good. He'd played for the first time in years.

Stefan rolled his shoulders, and decided to distract himself. Maybe he could go round again. Hang around until he saw this foreign-language boyfriend leave, then knock and ask for more?

He shrugged on his jeans, let himself out of the flat, and-walked.

Just walked.

It was cold outside, last night's rain having turned to ice, and the prickle of wet mist on his skin from the early morning brushed the dark cobwebs aside. His legs ached from being held open for Daz's hands, and he found himself touching the bruises on his waist and hip from that exploratory grip. They burned pleasantly, and by the time he reached the city centre and began to head further south to Middleton, his mood had improved considerably.

It was a long walk-hours long, in fact and so it was noon before he reached the narrow street of terraced houses. He loitered at a bus stop at the end, watching the house uncertainly. He could just go up and knock, and if the boyfriend answered, pretend he'd got the wrong address. Or he could call Daz-Daz had said not to, but...

Stefan dithered, unsure of the best way of approaching, but the decision was taken out of his hands when the front door opened, and a man stepped out.

Stefan narrowed his eyes.

The boyfriend.

He was going somewhere. He had a messenger bag slung over his back, and was wearing a coat and gloves. He locked the door too-so maybe Daz wasn't home?-and fiddled with a mobile phone before pocketing it and heading down the street towards Stefan.

Okay.

Okay, if Daz wasn't home, then maybe Stefan could scope out this mysterious boyfriend. Maybe he was going to meet Daz somewhere. Stefan didn't even know if either of them worked; maybe there was no point coming to the house on certain days?

The guy had headphones on, and walked straight past Stefan like he wasn't there, letting Stefan get a good look. Boyfriend was like Daz-dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin-and wore black glasses with a thick rim. He had facial hair somewhere between a thin beard and heavy stubble, and he walked quickly, head down.

Easy.

Stefan peeled away from the bus shelter casually, and began to follow him, keeping twenty paces or so behind. He just had to hope that Boyfriend wasn't getting a bus, or meeting someone more observant.

Stefan was in luck, though-Boyfriend appeared to like walking, too. And he headed right back the way Stefan had come, heading into the city centre along the same route. He nodded once or twice to people in the street, and once answered a phone call, but otherwise seemed to be entirely alone. Heading to work, maybe? He seemed sombre and like he was going to be late if he ambled and looked around.

Almost.

As they reached the city centre, Boyfriend suddenly veered off, and his destination became instantly clear. Stefan had guessed him to be around thirty years old, but he had to be younger, as he headed towards the university buildings. And when he finally disappeared where Stefan couldn't follow anymore, it was by swiping a card into the Department of Engineering.