I should be stopped

[toujours_nigel]

“You have a twin,” Mikhail slurs, muffled against his shoulder. “Kinky.” Charlie rolls his eyes, shudders inwardly a little, and otherwise ignores him. It’s often the best thing to do. “He’s pretty,” he yawns, then, “I’d fuck him.”

 

“Courfe you would,” he scoffs. “After he ran fcreaming.”

 

“I could tie him down,” Mikhail points out, and he’s beginning to get a little concerned. “Besides, he didn’t run away this afternoon.”

 

He sits up so fast that Mikhail rolls off him and the bed and lands solidly on the floor. “YOU WHAT?”

 

Mikhail grins up, sweetly unrepentant, rubbing his left bicep. “He’s shy. Talks more than you, though. Bit vanilla.”

 

He goes so white that Mikhail climbs back on the bed and holds his wrists tight and explains at great speed. When it transpires that Guddu has not, in fact, slept with his yaar—he will not say or think the word boyfriend—he sags in relief a second, before beginning to shout at Mikhail. He doesn’t want—won’t demand—monogamy; wants a seat up close for any of Mikhail’s encounters with women, and refuses to hear about any with men. It’s just that Guddu is Guddu, which means he’ll take out his eyes with a spoon before thinking of him in any way remotely sexual.

 

But he’s also been doubtless horrendously traumatised—people often are, around Mikhail—and it is rarely smart to (let anyone) believe Mikhail’s version of events—when Mikhail says things like, ‘didn’t touch him’, he sometimes means things like, ‘didn’t touch him inside’, Charlie’s learnt—so he treks to Charlie’s piece-of-shit college and waylays him when he comes out of Sociology.

 

“I…d… do… don’t want to talk to you,” Guddu says, shouldering his bag firmly and turning away.

 

“’Courfe you do,” he says, hand closing on Guddu’s wrist, and drags him up the stairs, to the roof where nobody’s supposed to venture, and which, accordingly, is full of people making out. Not the best of places, but at least nobody’s going to try eavesdropping.

 

Guddu blanches at all the couples, and looks away into mid-distance, resolutely silent.

 

“Fine,” he grunts, sitting, settling comfortably. “You fucked Mikhail and now you’re being a bitch.” Three… two… one.

 

“I did NOT,” Charlie gasps, words hurtling out without a pause. “I… did he tell you…I.”

 

He shrugs. “Fo you really have no fpace to be judgmental.”

 

“I n…ne…never slept with him, matlab. I’m not abnormal.”

 

Of course not. Guddu’s so mainstream it hurts. “I fucked a girl last month,” he says, and doesn’t add that it’d been under Mikhail’s eyes and shivering, hungry hands. “And you’re… ftill a virgin, right?”

 

“N… n… nothing wrong with th… that.” Self-righteous bitch.

 

“Right.” He can’t remember why he’s here and not at the track, collecting from the losers who tried their luck on Hasina winning the race. Shukla’s short on people, today. “Why’d you fhow up, anyway?”

 

“I f… found out about a job,” Guddu says distantly, the way he does when launching into his ‘stop being a criminal, Charlie, it’s dangerous’ speeches. “They’re n… not asking for college graduates. Y… you should t… turn up…”

 

He cuts in, disgusted with Guddu and himself, and impatient to be gone. “I’ve got a job.” He wonders, decides he might as well. “With Mikhail.”

 

Guddu purses his mouth and steels his face in the way that means Mikhail must have told him something horrific like he’s a very well paid slut Charlie’s splurging on—because Mikhail would. “He’s st… sta… staying with you?”

 

“Yeah. You…” because it is Guddu, and he will, “fhouldn’t come over if that’f not okay with you, okay?”

 

Guddu stares till he begins to feel uncomfortable, then some more, then says, mouth thinly disapproving. “Yo… you really like him. You lo… love him.”

 

“You know what they fay about twins, Guddu? That they can feel what the other doef?” He smiles, horrible, lips stretched. “Pity that’f a load of bull.”

slash, language, sexual implications, i own nothing.