A Damn Rotten Atmosphere

As usual, Aim finds himself in the company of his friends to chat and talk about everything. They have resumed their course, although lately, they have had difficulty getting together because of the exams. But the atmosphere around them is charged with tension and hidden emotion that prevents Aim from concentrating on his reading.

He lifted his head from his book to look at them one after the other. It wasn't like they were talking; they just sat there without saying a word, with a big thick wall between them.

He tried to understand why they were so tense. Why did they give off a bad vibe? Why couldn't he make out the origin of this unusual rotten vibe? It's true that the exams took them a little apart for a few days, but not as much.

But he can only read their body language. The only person who feels good about himself is Hart, who doesn't give off a negative and worrying vibe and who isn't as tense and rigid as wire steel as the others.

They haven't stopped getting phone calls since this morning. When a phone rings, they start glancing wildly around before answering or rejecting the call.

Hart is indeed the anchor of this small group that they have formed; he is the one who brings them stability and who understands the needs of each of them without having to say them aloud. But this morning, Aim finds him far too calm with all the tension around him.

But he shows a few signs of annoyance from time to time; he changes positions often; he looks like Jade when he finishes doing something stupid, and he's looking for a cute and less crude way to tell them about it.

Aim slammed the book shut to snap them out of their silence and see how they would react to the noise. They all jumped and simultaneously gave him a murderous look, as if he had crossed a line he should not have.

"So what are these bleak heads and this rotten atmosphere you have carried around to my damn haven of peace? I can't stand you like this; you are preventing me from concentrating on my reading. So go stress yourself somewhere else or share what's anguishing you, so what do you choose? "

They don't respond to Aim's outburst. They're too surprised to hear him suggest they share what's bothering them instead of keeping it to themselves and making him nervous with the aura that emanates from them. He's tired of supporting them around him like this.

Although he somehow ordered them harshly to speak instead of asking nicely, as they indeed would have done for him, the sound and tone of his voice said it all.

At home, there's Kenan, who is enough to drive him crazy and put him in all his states, playing with his nerves like a stereo, so when he's lucky enough to escape, he won't get stuck with these idiots who are playing some sick game that rots the atmosphere and the air that he breathes. It's suffocating and irritating, and it pisses him off much more than he expected.

Typically, he wouldn't give a damn about them as long as they didn't make any noise to disturb him and as long as they kept their distance from him. But then, for some reason, their nervousness affects him and makes him even more nervous than usual.

Their little reconciliation only lasted a few minutes, but let's say a few hours. I think I'm exaggerating a bit on the duration since they slept together in each other's arms this Sunday evening.

However, on Monday morning, everything changed because Aim refused to explain to Kenan why he was angry with him and ignored his calls during these two damn long weeks that had just passed.

"Baby," said Kenan as soon as he opened his eyes. He was still warm in the embrace of his boyfriend, who liked the feeling and the softness of his body against his. Aim didn't want to move for fear of waking Kenan up. He admired his beautiful, peaceful face in his sleep.

"He is gorgeous in every way and position. There's no demand line with him, and he is the definition of true beauty."

He compliments him without even saying the words. He never misses an opportunity to admire his face's well-defined and perfect features. He's never seen someone so well made, and he feels he's been traced with very sophisticated equipment and devices like Cody's. Sometimes he feels like he's not human like Cody.

"So, explain why you let me live this damn hell by putting me aside like dirt for these two weeks."

"No good morning this morning? You go straight to the heart of the matter," Aim replies, sulking for not having had his morning kiss.

"I'll say hello to you once you tell me about all this and I can get an idea of ​​how to behave with you. I think I'm way too easy when I'm with you, and it gives you wings that break my balls, so let's talk about it, please.

And God knows, honey, I am not that easy. "

"Hm, you're back..." Aim ran an almost weary hand through his hair, staring at Kenan as if reading the movement of every muscle in his face as he answered him, his mind elsewhere. "Do you need to distrust me or behave in any way when you're with me?"

"I like how you are when you're with me; no need to change anything," continued the latter, still looking at Kenan with half-mistified-closed eyes, stroking his arm and his cheek, shoulder, and collarbone with his right hand.

He let his hand wander on the soft skin of his lover blindly, without caring where he touched him. While trying to find a way to answer him without telling him the truth, he tries to create a diversion.

If he didn't know how to answer a question that seemed a little tricky, sensitive, or absurd to him, Cody taught him this trick.

"You have to make a diversion to understand it better and think about how to answer or bypass the question by asking another or bringing up another subject that has nothing to do with the question."

"Hm, that's it, and who will pay the price when you don't need me anymore?" Kenan decides to end this story and go to find the truth. He doesn't want to find himself in this state each time Aim needs some space.

"I'm the one receiving all the rude shock when you're out of reach, my dear, so tell me that I know how to protect myself and get involved only with the little you give me. Involving myself 100 percent risks making me stupid and acting haphazardly. As you said yesterday afternoon, I have to watch over myself better than that, and it is precisely for this reason that I live, so I listen to you."

Then Aim stopped the small caresses he distributed on his body to look at him seriously now, opening his eyes wide this time. "OK, OK," he thinks, "he is serious there and what he said is essential, but what to answer?" he asks himself as he begins to panic.

"Hey, I'm just here in your arms; why are you looking away?" Earlier, you were looking at me straight in the eye with that beautiful mystified gaze of yours and that greedy and seductive little stare, right? Keep looking at me the same way and answer me. "

Kenan resumed, impatiently waiting for this one to give him this damn answer. He doesn't want to end up in pieces every time this one wants to take a break from him unexpectedly, so better than he knows how to protect himself.

He's never been so into someone. Just because he's new to this whole thing doesn't mean he'll let him make him a useless wreck.

As Aim was not yet ready to tell him why he got angry and started acting dopey instead of calling Ewen to check on him, and as he did not know how to invent a story from scratch in a fraction of a second, he was content to tell him something unpleasant.

"It's exactly as you said, I needed a break from you. You took way more space in my apartment than all I owned in a short period, so I wanted to know how it would be without you. I wanted you to be out of reach and let me breathe for a while, and I spent some time with Ethan to change that."

They were in bed after what can only be described as a long session of divine torture, snuggled together until they were one. Kenan wanted this. He was waiting for this moment to find himself in his arms, snuggled up warm, and let himself be lulled by the beating of his heart.

And Aim dreamt of him night and day without even being able to sleep or concentrate on doing anything helpful during those two weeks he spent without seeing him. Except for playing in Cody's codes and features while thinking of Kenan's smile, perfume, and everything that makes him this little being that attracts him like a damn magnet, the most powerful that has ever existed and the smallest too.

And if Cody is so efficient and more human today, it is because he has worked with more feeling than reason, and the improvements he has made to his half-human toy are very fruitful, thanks to the changes that Ewen himself brought home.

Listening to this wave of hurtful words cross the walls of his mouth, Kenan stiffened in his arms before his body was seized with violent spam. He freed himself from his arms with difficulty and fled from the room. He descended the stairs leading to the first floor, almost screaming, unable to do otherwise. What he feels hurts him and makes him unable to breathe.

He went to take refuge in the guest room in tears. While I only wanted to hear his voice to soothe my pain, he put me into psychological distress. With that voice in his head hammering his brain relentlessly, he laughs at me, he's bored with me, and I'm intrusive. He preferred Ethan to me while I dreamed of him.

Aim didn't do anything to hold him back; he just lay in bed watching him run away from him, crying all over again. He flopped into bed, clutching his face, suddenly feeling empty and hopeless, once again cursing his brain, his inability to watch over someone dear to him.

He never believed that a tiny human being could simultaneously be so attractive, provocative, confusing, mesmerizing, disturbing, and emotional.

He would have liked to run after him and explain his words differently, but he didn't. He never felt so stupid and ridiculous in his whole life; finally, his big brain is useless to him, and it's a waste.

It's not like he was reading something in this book he had in his hand; his mind was elsewhere. This morning, Kenan didn't want to get into the same car; he preferred to call a taxi instead of being locked up with him, which bothered him. He didn't even accept Cody's offer to choose one of the cars of his choice, something they knew he would have loved but still rejected.

He thinks that his friends are weird and strange and have suspicious and disturbing body language, but he also keeps frowning, sighing, and stamping his foot in annoyance.

The boys would have liked to ask him what was wrong, but he didn't have the head of someone who wanted to talk, so all the tension they felt in him invaded them too, and they found themselves in the same state of mind as him, and all this brought up the little problems that they also face on their side.

They are annoyed, bored, and nervous, not to mention the calls they get all day long.

" If you tell us why you are in this state, first of all," answered Jade, who sat down the minute the other opened his mouth as if it was what he was waiting for to intervene.

"Oh, I should have waited a little longer," Aim scoffed, "you would have ended up asking the question before I asked you why, in the name of God, you had to lug this damn rotten and shitty atmosphere with you to my damn place of rest." he raged now like a damn ill-mannered kid.

The latter exploded, keeping his gaze riveted on Jade, who executed a recoil movement while remaining seated in the hammock by seeing him explode like this.

They've never seen him angry or heard him say rude words. He's the type to panic, avoid them and close in on himself when something's wrong, but he goes as far as to use high-sounding words, and it is inappropriate to address his friends ever. It's Kenan's little gift this time, but not Aim's.

They threw glances filled with innuendo at each other before all turning back to him, their gazes filled with questions that their mouths could not formulate at the moment.

Ethan was lying on the big sofa, sitting up abruptly and leaning on the backrest, his hands folded under his chin to support his head and his legs tucked under his butt. He looks more like a kid than a twenty-something boy.

He says, "It's my thesis that freaks me out." He thinks his problem is much lighter. It can help calm down a little all this tension and all these tense muscles that are gathered on this roof.

He has never seen his friend like this, and it worries him. Usually, he goes as far as to touch Aim and speak to him softly with well-chosen words to help him when he is in a panic, but today he is different.

He's angry, and he doesn't want to annoy him or make him even more anxious if he approaches him. He just makes the first move so the others can follow him and discuss what made them so worked up.

"I submitted the first draught of my thesis to my professor, and he told me that I could do better than that and that he expected me to live up to my subject."

"I did not understand at all what he meant. I put my whole being into these six chapters, and he told me that it was not enough and that I had not been given everything."

"It seems he knows me much better than I know myself. It's annoying, and I don't like it when teachers act as if they know us all the better than we know ourselves when they don't."

"And that's not going to push me to change anything. I already know where to direct my subject and what I want to convey. So it's not a win for both of us... either he drives me crazy, or I drive him crazy. "

They listened as if he were talking to himself in his room, pacing like a caged animal, except that he was not. He doesn't try to find out what they think; he just wants to figure it out for himself. How in the world can give his all to this thesis more than he already does? He knows it all too well; it is what he has been doing since he started doing his research.

He changed positions, resting his chin on his right hand and staring into space.

"OK, surely there are other points of view I have not yet considered, but that does not mean my work is that of a lazy person or not that of a student worthy of my rank."

"He always wants to make me understand that I can go beyond my abilities. I don't know what he has in mind, but it's starting to get on my nerves."

Then he returned to his original position, dropping heavily onto the couch, leaving the others to stare in his direction without comment.

After a few seconds of silence, looking at him without saying anything, Jade turned towards the others, casting discreet glances at them. He didn't know if he should tell them, but he felt he had no choice and should tell them a week ago. Then, in a small voice, he spoke.

"Uh…" he starts casting worried, furtive glances around him now, as if trying to hide something, but no one seems to be paying attention to him. Maybe it's because he only says shit when he opens his mouth, so no one takes him seriously.

"Well, actually," he continues to stutter, unable to say what he needs to say, wringing his hands.

"What's going on with you?" Aim asks, with annoyance and impatience. "When do you stutter when you have to speak? Why are you so creepy today?"

"I don't stutter; it's just that I... well, let's forget about it and let me try to explain what I want to say. Don't pressure me, OK?" He ends up saying with big gestures of his arms.

"Well, OK, we're listening to you now, and no one is putting pressure on you, so quickly tell your troubles so that someone else decides to empty their bag." Hansley steps in, as impatient and annoyed as Aim is.

"That's it," Jade replies, looking down at them. "I see you're not putting any pressure on me at all. "

They all rolled their eyes; it was irritating. He wanted to tell them about his troubles, but he was stuttering like crazy, and now that it's about giving them answers, he has regained his forked tongue as if by magic.

"Jade, now that your tongue is loosened, will you tell us that thing that's bothering you or not?"

"OK, I'll say it, but it's a bit ungraspable because I don't know how they got my number and how they know I'm a friend of yours, but one thing is sure is that you are being watched, Aim."

" I have a number that harasses me every day, morning and night, on the pretext that they will pay me if I give them the whole info that you are a friend of our little group."

"What?"

They all asked at the same time with one voice, except for Aim, who didn't say a word; he had his head down in his hands; he was thinking about all sorts of things the minute he heard the words: "I don't know how they got my number."

There can't be two things that embarrass Jade so much. He figured it must have something to do with his status or something anyway, and it turns out he was right.

"How much did they offer you?" Aim finally asked the other, who opened his eyes wide. He didn't expect this to be the first question he would ask him.

"What? Why this question? How it helps to know the exact amount they offered is not what matters. "

"What matters or not is up to me, Jade. So tell me how much they offered you and why they contacted you. Other of you may have received calls like this too." He said, glancing at the others.

"I thought you would rather ask me since when this started instead of asking me the amount. It's not like I'm going to unpack everything about you to strangers for money, man. The amount doesn't matter.''

"Oh yes, really?" Aim asks him, "Do you think you're going to be able to keep them that long before you tell them everything they want to know about me?"

"What? What does it mean, Aim? Did you just insult me ​​now? So you take me for some kind of what...? a low-class prostitute who runs around throwing herself into anyone's arms for anything, a few bucks?"

"Hey, man, I remind you that I am Indian and have my values." I may have money problems at the moment, but I am not one of those vipers who only thinks about money. " He steamed like a madman; Aim really pissed him off this time.

On the other hand, you can offer me much more than six thousand dollars. Why should I bother you when you are the money itself? He whined between his teeth to himself.

"I knew you were a heartless little moron, but I didn't expect you to be a real shitty bastard," he said out loud, getting up from the hammock. He stumbled twice as he railed against Aim's affront.

"If you want to know everything," he said before heading for the exit. "It's been a week since they started harassing me. I'll send you the number that keeps calling me. "

"And believe me, if they weren't so stingy, I would have sold them your head for my pleasure. You arrogant little rascal, you cost way more than six thousand poor little dollars. My parents send me this every three months for my pocket money, even though they stopped six months ago. "

"What frustrates me is that I cannot focus my eyes on my pocket money every three months as I should, rascal." He continues to grumble between his teeth as he makes his way toward the exit without the others being able to hear him.