Vicious people doing despicable things

3 Lucky loser

Nam

Fort and Luc are fashionably late. And I am quick to assume that they are hooking up before coming to the bar. Because that's what I'd be doing before every meeting or event or outing, including going shopping, if I had a boyfriend I was truly madly in love with. But I am wrong and I blame my dirty and deeply flawed mind.

Obviously, Fort and Luc have other reasons to be late. They are not an ordinary couple.

"I strongly advise you to stay away from Luc tonight," Fort announces, dropping down into a chair next to me. Luc glares at him, taking a seat between him and Mark. "He's not in a good mood," Fort explains sheepishly, looking at his angry boyfriend. "He just forgettized the barman."

I intuitively shift away from them. I've had enough experience with Luc's power. No more. Ever. Fort may get off on it but I'll pass.

I shoot him a look, raising my eyebrow. He meets it and subtly shakes his head. I roll my eyes. Guess, they haven't discussed their sex issues yet. And honestly, I totally get Fort's hesitation – Luc looks like an angry hedgehog. I'm proper scared of him too.

"I told you I didn't want to come," Luc argues.

"You need to unwind or you'll plunge into your negative headspace again."

Luc makes his best bitchy face and says, "Who would have thought that exams are more stressful than working for the mafia? This is so stupid."

This makes me smile. I like Luc. He's cool. Notwithstanding his terrifying power.

The night is fun.

I didn't plan to get drunk. Especially with active Forgettizer in vicinity. Really bad idea. But my willpower is as strong as my mental health – both of them are almost non-existent.

Yesterday, I promised myself I wouldn't be a brooding teenager anymore. It felt so good, and I felt so strong. But it didn't last, just like anything good in my life. And here I am, drunk and pathetic, staring at the ceiling, wishing death would come and solve all my problems. I'm angry at myself, while I should be angry at my father. The most disgusting part is that, somewhere deep inside, I believe that he's right. That I'm the problem. I'm wrong and I need to be fixed. This is so fucked up. I growl at myself and it sounds just like Mark. I turn my head to glance at him. He's talking to Luc. They are laughing. Ugh. I hate the way my insides twist at the view. Ton is saying something about card games. God no. I don't want to play games. I want to stop thinking. I want to be touched. I want to be touched by Mark. I want to taste his lips. Fuck. I don't know what is going on with me. Or maybe I do.

Me and my hand are doing fine. Really. We are having so much fun together. But I miss a touch of another person. I miss the attention and desire to please, the intoxicating feeling when someone wants me, that heat low in my guts – all that makes me forget who I am, and I get lost in the sensations, in that moment.

My hand is fine, but it's not the same.

"Can you die to touch starvation?" I ask Luc, but I'm still staring at the ceiling, so I'm surprised when he replies.

"No," he says seriously. And it feels so nice when people take you seriously, even if you ask the most stupid questions. "But it can drive you crazy and make you do some stupid shit that can eventually kill you."

"You're staying with us tonight," Fort states. He sounds concerned. Is he talking to me? I force myself to twist my head. Yeah. Okay. He's glaring at me with his concerned face on.

I smile. "With all due respect," I say. God, I sound drunk. "I love you both and all, but I don't want to have a threesome with you guys. Especially, your boyfriend. His superpower scares me shitless."