Twenty-one
Backstage today felt like coming full circle. The last time Kaj had been on these festival grounds with Noah, they were sixteen. Just a couple of kids lost in the sea of the crowd, watching Artificial Suicide play for the first time. But instead of being on the other side of the barricade, a few hours ago they’d finished their own soundcheck in front of an empty green field.
The band was now unwinding after lunch in the makeshift trailer park that Copenhell promoters always set up for the artists. It was a chaotic little village of tour buses and trailers, with long wooden picnic tables scattered between them. The whole area buzzed with restless energy as musicians and their crews behaved like overgrown children. Case in point: the impromptu piggyback race currently unfolding between the vehicles.
“Come on, Marc!” Chris, the guitarist of Buried Alive, hollered as his husband sprinted past, struggling under the weight of Dark Omen’s vocalist. “You really gonna let Theo beat your ass?”
“Fuck you!” Marc snapped back, panting. “Come here and do it yourself.”
“Sorry, can’t.” Chris gestured to his bandaged ankle. He’d sprained it bad enough to not participate in this nonsense, but not so much he couldn’t perform.
“This is fucking unfair and you know it,” Marc protested.
He had a point, though. The race wasn’t particularly long, but the path they’d settled between the buses made it trickier, especially since the rules demanded smaller participants carry bigger ones. Chris and Marc’s teenage son was currently hauling Leah, their vocalist, while Marc himself had been saddled with carrying S?ren, Dark Omen’s frontman, who could only be described as a human bull.
Val, Aksel, and Noah, on the other hand, were more evenly paired as their respective jockeys, Frederik, Xander, and Markus, had a similar build. Bjorn and a few others from their closest circle were also in the running, each team laughing and cursing as they stumbled through the improvised obstacle course.
Just as all the participants rounded the tightest corner between two of the buses, a startled yelp cut through the laughter. Noah’s footing faltered, his boot catching on an uneven patch of gravel. He and Markus swayed in slow motion, and for a moment, it looked like they wouldn’t kiss the ground. But Noah’s momentary recovery was just that—momentary.
Noah and Markus went down in a tangle of limbs, hitting the ground with a solid thud.
“Ouch.” Chris grimaced beside Kaj, who was already on his feet.
Silence fell over the camping area for a second until they both erupted into laughter, loud and unrestrained, as they cackled like a pair of hyenas.
Kaj took a step forward, fingers twitching, caught between wanting to help and knowing that this was just two idiots laughing at their own chaos. He should sit down. This wasn’t anything serious. But two days ago, everything between him and Noah had changed, and no matter how much he tried to brush it off, he couldn’t ignore the quiet worry eating at him.
Two nights ago, after their long and intense sex session and the bath where they’d taken care of each other, they ended up in the kitchen, sitting on the floor, eating leftovers and laughing at stupid jokes like nothing had ever been fractured. And when exhaustion caught up with them, they went to bed together and slept wrapped in each other’s arms. As if this thing between them hadn’t always been complicated and sharp-edged.
Since then, they’d been texting constantly, checking in first thing in the morning and at night, making sure neither of them was drowning in the aftermath of that mentally draining interaction. Making sure they were okay. Making sure this was okay.
Kaj hadn’t been able to say it out loud yet, not even to himself, but how he felt about Noah was different. Or maybe it’d always been the same, just soiled by resentment and pain, and only now was it clawing its way back to the surface. He had convinced himself he’d never feel this way again—warm, protective, whole —not after everything he’d been through. Not after the things that had been done to him and the things he had done himself. But Noah had a way of breaking down his walls.
And he knew . Kaj was sure of it.
He could see it in the way Noah looked at him now, in the way he chose his words, careful not to push, even though the things they didn’t say echoed in the space between them, stretching across the years they’d been apart. Noah was perceptive like that. That was why the vocalist hadn’t asked again after Kaj’s initial deflection about his family. Why he’d admitted knowing Kaj must have gone through something traumatic and let him decide when he wanted to share. Why, despite every fight and offense, he’d still chosen to wait for Kaj to be ready to come back to him.
So no, he couldn’t just sit down.
“You planning to go kiss his boo-boos or—”
Kaj shot Chris a glare but didn’t sit. “Fuck off, Schmidt.”
Chris laughed, leaning back on his palms on the picnic table like he was watching the best show of his life. “You looked ready to sprint over there. Just saying.”
Meanwhile, Noah was still on the ground, breathless from laughter as Markus groaned, arms splayed out like he’d been mortally wounded. “We died,” the tech announced to the sky. “Tell my mom I went out like a warrior.”
Noah wheezed. “Does that mean we go to Valhalla together?”
Markus let out a dramatic groan, touching his chest where the invisible sword wound was. “Absolutely. This was a glorious fall.”
“More like an embarrassing defeat, but whatever.” Noah snorted, wiping the dust off his arms and pants as he stood up.
Markus gasped. “How dare you? I sacrificed myself to ensure we fell as brothers.”
“I don’t know what they’re talking about, but it seems your man is still alive,” Chris quipped. “You can sit down, Larsen.”
Kaj shot him a withering look, but Chris’s German ass only grinned wider.
“Not obvious at all.”
Kaj shook his head as he sat on the table. “You’re insufferable.”
Chris smirked. “You say that like it’s a news flash.”
“Why are we friends again?”
“Because I’m fun,” Chris said matter-of-factly. “And because I’m blunt and can say the things you’re too emotionally stunted to admit out loud. Like, for example”—he gestured toward Noah, who was helping Markus up, both still laughing like assclowns—“the fact that you just had a full-body reaction to Noah tripping.”
“I did not have a full-body reaction.” Who are you trying to fool?
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Well, just a minute ago, it looked like you were about to start a rescue mission. If that’s not a reaction, I don’t know what is.”
“I was just momentarily worried our vocalist had hurt himself before our show tonight,” Kaj said, lighting a cig to keep his hands busy.
“Right, because Marc, S?ren, Bjorn, and literally everyone else here would have left him for dead,” Chris said with a cig in his mouth. “You needed to intervene.”
Kaj held the Zippo for Chris, clenching his jaw and refusing to take the bait.
“At least admit you’re plowing him?”
“I am. So what?”
Chris choked on his cigarette, coughing out a laugh. “Oh my god! You just said it. No resistance, no dodging, no ‘fuck off, Schmidt,’” he mocked. “Just straight-up admission!”
Kaj rolled his eyes while taking a drag. “Why is it even that surprising? You saw the photos they posted online.”
“Yeah, but that and this are two completely different things. I swear, if you tell me you’ve also started writing in a journal about your feelings, I might actually pass out.”
“Not a chance.”
Chris sighed dramatically. “Pity. That’d be fun to read.”
“Do you even know how to read?” Kaj countered with a smirk.
Kaj had met Buried Alive a couple of years after joining Artificial Suicide. He hadn’t expected to bond with anyone outside his own band, least of all Chris Schmidt—the absolute tornado of a human being who seemed to exist solely to cause chaos. But somehow, it worked. Kaj’s broody, deadpan nature balanced out Chris’s loud and reckless energy, and beneath that, they shared the same dry, self-deprecating humor. So it didn’t take long before they were bouncing sarcasm off each other like it was a competition.
“Asshole.” Chris laughed as he tapped his cigarette. “So, what’s next? You gonna start holding hands in public? Get matching sweaters?”
Kaj exhaled a cloud of smoke, completely unbothered. “Jealous?”
“No, but if you skip the unnecessary drama, I’ll be offended. Marc and I had a lot of crap to dig out before we got our shit together—more like I got my shit together, but whatever. You don’t get to just be normal.”
Kaj snorted. “I don’t think ‘normal’ is on the table for us.”
“Well, here’s to you finally catching up to the rest of us, then.” Chris touched his cigarette against Kaj’s in some sort of toast.
As the ridiculous race ended and conversations turned to other things, the energy in the artist area subtly shifted. The festival grounds were alive with the steady pulse of distant music and the occasional eruption of cheers from one or another stage. The sun dipped lower, painting everything in a hazy golden glow as long shadows cast over the trailer park.
Kaj crushed the stub of another cig against the sole of his boot. The weight of the moment settled on his chest, just like every time they were a few minutes away from a live performance. Tonight, however, there was a flare of bravery he’d never felt before.
His eyes moved to Noah, who was chatting with Dark Omen members—he’d been a fan forever.
“Alright, dumbasses,” Ivar called as he strode toward them, a festival pass bouncing against his chest. He looked like he’d been wrangling musicians all day and was officially out of patience. “Let’s move.”
“Talk about special treatment,” Kaj said as he stood up and patted his ass. It hurt from all the time he’d been sitting here.
“You’ll get the special treatment of me not dragging you to the stage myself. You’re out in an hour. Go get ready. Now.”
Artificial Suicide made their way through the artist area toward their tent. The air sparked with excitement as another band came off stage, their clothes damp with sweat, faces alight with the post-show high.
As soon as they got there, Giulia handed Kaj his sticks, and together they made final adjustments to his kit. Kaj crouched to tighten a stand and tapped the snare as she focused on listening before making another small tweak. Then, while she got it up on the rolling platform to bring it to the stage with the help of some of the festival’s staff, Kaj ran through a quick rudiment pattern on his practice pad to warm up his muscles a little, tuning everything else out.
Some time later, Xander touched his shoulder, motioning for him to take off his headphones as Ivar entered the tent.
“Ten minutes,” he called.
As they went out into the night, the towering stage loomed over them, bathed in deep reds and blues as the intro track rumbled to life.
Their moment had arrived.
Energy swelled, thick and electric, as they lined up behind the heavy black curtains. The murmur of the crowd chanting outside blended with it, elevating to the open sky above. Kaj rolled his shoulders and tightened his grip on the drumsticks, feeling the familiar burn of anticipation creep up his spine.
A stagehand waved them forward. Adrenaline coursed through Kaj’s veins as they stepped outside, and the crowd exploded into screams, calling their name.
Kaj slid into position behind his kit. He’d done this more times than he could count, but tonight was special. Not only were they home, but he was also up on this stage with Noah. This wasn’t just another gig. It was the moment they’d dreamed about when they were kids—them together on this stage.
Taking a deep breath, Kaj drank in the view ahead—horn signs raised high, a sea of bodies pressed together. It was magnificent.
As the eerie intro faded away, they began to play. The ground beneath Kaj vibrated with the force of their music as his arms moved with a blistering tempo. The crowd lost themselves in it, worshipping the chaos unfolding on stage, slamming against each other in a beautiful riot of excitement, sweat, and violence.
Flashing red strobes pounded in sync with the drums, shifting to a fixated deep blue shade when Aksel slid the pick on the strings of his guitar. Xander’s bass lines were punchy and aggressive, but as the rhythm changed, the sound became heavier, groovier. And in the middle of the frantic atmosphere, there he stood.
Noah fucking S?rensen . The man who made Kaj feel things he never thought possible.
The vocalist stepped up on one of the platforms at the edge of the stage and roared. His growls carved through the brutal melody, sending chills that lodged into Kaj’s spine.
Afraid of digging too deep into his memory, Kaj refused to admit it before, but he heard it now, loud and clear. Raw power rumbled from the cavity of Noah’s chest and through his throat, coming out in a breathtaking mix of disgusting gutturals and torn emotions.
The weight of their history hit Kaj like a wrecking ball as he drummed furiously. His mind and body were chained here, on this stage, with their raging audience, but his heart… The little organ that kept him alive was in Noah’s hands. Was it love? Was it codependency and his brain was just tricking him? Kaj had no idea, but he didn’t give a fuck.
As the concert went on, Kaj sank deeper and deeper into everything he was feeling, something so strong it felt like it could split the universe in two. The chord progression, the darkness of the bass, the shifts between triple and duple meter, Noah’s vocals…
The setlist blurred into a haze of unrelenting savagery. Kaj’s hands slammed down on the snare, his arms burning with each hit. Sweat glided down his face as he let the force of his drums drive him, pushing him forward as the sky cracked open.
A flash of lightning. A few hesitant drops at first. Then an unforgiving downpour, the kind that soaked clothes in seconds and made concerts that much more epic. Because instead of slowing the band down, it only fueled them. Because instead of running for shelter, the crowd screamed louder.
Another solo hit, and Aksel’s guitar sliced through the air like a blade. Xander’s bass groaned. Noah’s voice rippled into a darker shade. It was pure madness. A beautiful collision of sounds. Kaj could feel the frenetic energy filtering through his pores, strumming the threads tethering him to reality as Noah’s gaze locked with his. That fucking lethal eye game. That smirk that curled his lips like a promise, a dare, a warning .
Kaj’s heart pounded. His chest tightened. The crowd roared. The lights flickered. But all he could see was the man in front of him.
A final explosion of fire lit up the storm-ridden sky. The entire festival ground was a blur as the band stood frozen in the aftermath, chests rising and falling, utterly spent and satisfied.
Although life was calmer after coming back from the American tour, Artificial Suicide wouldn’t take a real break until they were done with the summer round of festivals. And even then, they’d have to start preparing new material for the next album.
Today, for example, they had an interview following their Copenhell performance last night.
The press lounge carried the faint scent of coffee, printer paper, and slightly stale air from too many people cycling in and out all day. The room decoration was minimal, except for the wall behind the musicians that was covered with a backdrop displaying sponsor logos alongside the names of several bands, a reminder of the corporate side of things.
Kaj sat in the middle of the couch, arms crossed and an ankle resting on the other knee, his usual broody presence steady beside Noah, who was fumbling with the bottle of water in his hands. Aksel had sprawled comfortably beside the vocalist, while Xander looked like he was debating if this was a necessary evil or just another form of mild torture.
Artificial Suicide had done enough interviews over the years to know the routine, but live streams were different. More unpredictable and sometimes uncomfortable, since toward the end of the interaction with the interviewer, they had to answer a flood of fan questions they couldn’t filter beforehand.
Niels stood just out of frame behind the interviewer, Martin, arms folded as he kept an eye on the chat. It wasn’t that he expected them to fuck up, but knowing their history, he liked to be prepared, especially with the rise of so many weirdos since Noah joined the band. Some people really didn’t know how to deal with changes.
“Alright, we’re live!” Martin said as he sat across from them, all smiles and caffeine-fueled enthusiasm. “First off, congratulations on the absolute insanity of the concert last night. The energy was unreal. How does it feel to be back at Copenhell?”
“Like home. Only louder.” Aksel grinned.
Xander nodded. “And with more smoke, fire, and—”
“Smells worse, too,” Kaj added flatly.
Martin laughed. “Well, it definitely looked like you guys had a blast up there.”
“We did.” Noah cracked open the bottle of water. “The crowd was crazy, in the best way possible.”
“Any standout moments?”
Aksel tilted his head. “Uh, yeah. Someone in the pit brought a huge inflatable purple dinosaur and somehow managed to keep it the entire show.”
“Better grip strength than half the drummers I know,” Kaj said.
“I’m also like ninety percent sure a huge bearded dude was dressed in a pink polka dot bodysuit on someone’s shoulders,” Noah added.
Xander gestured vaguely. “Just your standard festival behavior.”
Martin chuckled. “You’ve played some massive festivals before, but being back here in Denmark, at one of the biggest in Europe—does that bring something different to the experience?”
Kaj nodded. “Absolutely. Like Aksel said before, it feels like home, and that connection makes a difference.”
“Copenhell was the very first festival we ever played at before we started headlining tours, so it’s personal,” Xander agreed. “Pushes us harder.”
Martin smiled. “Fair enough. So, with just a few shows left on this leg of the tour, what comes next?”
Aksel exhaled. “Some time to breathe. We’re heading into writing sessions soon, but for now, just regrouping.”
“Which means Aksel disappears into his guitar cave, Xander refuses to answer texts, and I contemplate all my life choices,” Kaj said.
Martin smirked. “And Noah?”
Noah shrugged. “I’m the new guy, so I just go where they tell me to.”
Aksel grinned, making dreamy eyes at Noah. “Our pup learns so fast.”
“Shut up.” Noah shoved his shoulder, laughing.
Martin flipped through his notes. “You’ve been playing one intense setlist on this tour. Physically, how do you handle the demands of being on the road for so long?”
“Trying to eat as healthy as possible,” Xander noted.
“Being in decent shape also helps,” Kaj added. “Prevents out of nowhere back pain and shit like that, especially the days we sleep on the bus.”
“And sleeping,” Aksel said. “When we were starting the band I used to say I’d sleep when I’m dead. You know, we were always busy, super active and on top of everything. But now, when we’re on tour, it’s grey outside, and we’re in a parking lot all day, even with how stinky it can get after a month of ten dudes living there, when you close the curtains of your bunk, put on some music, and close your eyes. That’s pretty amazing.”
“That sounds… almost peaceful,” Martin said.
“Until someone forgets to turn off their alarm, and it goes off six times in a row.”
Noah groaned. “Or when Xander gets up at an ungodly hour.”
Xander gave a slow, deliberate blink. “You should be thanking me. I bring discipline.”
“But while you’re on tour, not everything is about discipline, healthy eating, and playing. I’m sure there are also downtime moments when you get to relax. What’s the weirdest way you’ve killed time on the road?”
Aksel immediately pointed at Xander. “He watches the most unhinged documentaries. Like, full deep dives into the most random topics.”
Xander shrugged. “I like learning things.”
“No, you like forcing us to learn things,” Kaj retorted. “I can’t believe I now know how competitive duck herding works.”
Martin blinked. “I… didn’t know that was a thing.”
“It is,” Kaj deadpanned. “I could explain the scoring system to you right now.”
Aksel shook his head. “You have no idea how many times we’ve all sat through something we never asked to watch because Xander had ‘just one more interesting fact.’”
“You all stayed and watched, though,” the bassist countered with a shrug and a cheeky grin.
Martin chuckled. “Alright, what about the rest of you?”
“Nothing weird, but I like to read,” Kaj said. And have sex with Noah . But that was not something he could say during a live stream.
“And play video games,” Aksel added. “It’s like our family thing. Just like when we all go sightseeing together.”
Noah thought for a second. “Honestly, I think I just end up crashing half the time. They’re more used to this hectic type of routine, but it’s been quite exhausting to get used to the rhythm of things. When we’re not playing, we’re traveling, and when we’re not traveling, we’re waiting. I feel like I’ve taken more accidental naps in random places than I ever have in my life.”
Kaj nodded with his arms still crossed. “You learn to sleep anywhere. Dressing rooms, venue floors, under tables…”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “Under tables?”
Kaj shrugged. “Look, sometimes it’s the darkest, quietest place available.”
Aksel smirked. “Kaj just disappears sometimes, and we find him curled up somewhere like a cat.”
Martin laughed, and the conversation drifted through the usual topics—how the next album was coming, whether they had any dream collaborations in mind, stuff like that. The answers varied from teasingly vague to outright sarcastic, with Kaj, in particular, making sure to keep the conversation just on the edge of professionalism.
“Alright, let’s get into the fans’ questions,” Martin said, scrolling through the chat.
Niels sat up a little straighter behind him as the reporter scrolled through the incoming flood of comments, his expression hovering between amused and concerned.
“Okay, let’s start with an easy one.” Martin grinned as his eyes scanned the screen. ‘If you had to swap instruments with another band member for a full set, who’s getting screwed over the hardest?’”
Aksel laughed. “If Noah had to play drums, we’d be dead in five minutes.”
“Hey! I can keep a beat,” Noah shot back.
“That’s debatable.” Kaj smirked.
Xander chuckled. “I think the real tragedy would be Aksel on my bass.”
“Excuse you,” Aksel said, feigning offense. “You just pluck at the strings. What's so hard about it?”
Xander snorted. “And that's exactly why I'm never allowing you to touch my instrument.”
Aksel smirked. “Which one?”
“So basically, no one here should be switching instruments,” Martin said.
“Unless we want a full-band catastrophe,” Xander confirmed.
“Got it.” Martin chuckled as he glanced at the screen again. “Next question—‘What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you on stage?’”
“Easy,” Aksel said. “That time I tripped over a monitor and ate shit in front of thousands of people.”
Xander smirked. “Which time?”
It wasn’t that Aksel was clumsy, but the occurrence of mild and big accidents during shows was unbelievable.
“The one where I actually faceplanted,” Aksel replied.
Kaj snorted. “That was a highlight.”
“What about the rest of you?”
Xander tilted his head. “I’ve hit my head with the headstock of my bass more times than I care to admit.”
“I had a drumstick snap in half once, and the broken part flew straight into Aksel’s head. I wouldn’t get that shit right if I did it on purpose.”
Martin blinked. “Wait, really?”
Aksel rubbed his temple as if remembering the impact. “Yeah. Hurt like hell.”
“You didn’t miss a note, though,” Kaj pointed out.
“I was seeing stars, but sure.”
Martin grinned. “Noah, what about you?”
Noah looked thoughtful. “Other than forgetting lyrics I can easily cover up by making the crowd chant with us, I haven’t had any major disasters yet .”
Aksel clapped him on the shoulder. “Give it time.”
Martin was still smiling when his gaze flickered back to the screen. Then he frowned. It was subtle and brief, but Kaj noticed, especially when he glanced back at the manager, who was stiff as a board.
Smoothly collecting himself, Martin scrolled past whatever it was. “Uh, alright, let’s see… oh, here’s one—‘Who takes the longest to get ready before a show?’”
Aksel raised a hand without shame. “Me. I do.”
“At least you own it,” Xander muttered. “He has, like, a ritual. It’s a whole thing. Like anyone cares how pretty his hair is before a show when it’s gonna end up looking like he was electrified anyway.”
Kaj’s fingers twitched on his knee, but his focus wasn’t on the conversation anymore. It was on the way Martin had just moved on a little too fast. How his face had changed for that split second before he covered it up.
Ten questions later, the interview wrapped up with the usual closing remarks and thank-yous before the live stream ended.
The moment the cameras cut, the atmosphere shifted. Martin exhaled, shoulders dropping like he’d been holding his breath as he walked over to Niels, who was thrumming in the corner with barely restrained tension. The usual post-interview shuffle as they stretched and chitchatted faded into background noise. It was like someone had sucked the air out of the room.
“What did you see?” Kaj asked flatly.
Martin hesitated, gaze flicking toward the manager.
“What the fuck was it?” Kaj pressed, attracting his bandmates’ attention to them.
Niels’s jaw was set in a hard line. “Someone’s been flooding the chat with increasingly disturbing messages directed at you two,” he said, looking between Kaj and Noah.
“What kind of messages?” Aksel asked, immediately protective.
“The same Noah has been getting these past few months,” Niels explained.
Martin looked uncomfortable. “They started off just a little annoying but got more... explicit.”
“The stalker?” Xander frowned. “I thought you had it under control.”
“Never said such a thing,” Niels countered. “We are keeping track and trying to find out who the hell they are, but there’s not much we can do if they keep creating new accounts.”
“Can I see them?” Noah asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good—”
“Show us,” Kaj cut him off.
Niels exhaled, then pulled out his tablet, tapping the screen a few times before turning it toward Kaj. The band huddled around it, scrolling through screenshots he’d taken of the chat.
Are Noah and Kaj actually dating, or are they just fucking? Does Noah know about Kaj’s past? Wonder if Noah knows what Kaj really likes in bed?
It was disgusting to think that anyone would ask these types of questions when given the chance to ask something to someone they admired, but then again, some people were unhinged. However, it wasn’t those messages that felt like a knife poised above Kaj’s neck, but what he read afterward:
You always looked so pretty when you cried. Did Noah get to see that yet? Or are you still pretending? I bet you are. He would have never taken you back if he knew the truth. He doesn’t know you, doesn’t deserve you. None of them do. You can try to keep me away, but you’ll never get rid of me. You belong to me, my little prince.
Kaj stopped breathing. His entire body went rigid, and the blood drained from his face, leaving him feeling dead inside.
“What the fuck?” Xander muttered, but it was barely a distant whisper in Kaj’s mind.
The words twisted through Kaj like barbed wire, razor-sharp, rusty, and suffocating, winding tight around his ribs, digging into his flesh and making him bleed inside out.
His heart lurched.
His skin felt too tight.
Kaj’s body locked up, frozen in the space between past and present, because he knew those words. They were branded in his brain. After all these years, he could even hear his voice.
He would have never taken you back if he knew the truth.
Little prince.
How did I not see it before?
It was and had always been him.
His stepbrother.
His worst nightmare.
The man who raped him, ripping away his innocence, his future, and every dream he’d ever had, leaving him only with a rope of asphyxiating memories around the neck.
Kaj’s fingers clenched, nails biting deep into his palms, but it wasn’t enough to ground him. His brain was already folding into itself like a reptile, dragging him back—
Back to that cold, dark fucking room. Back to hands gripping too tight. To that alcohol-flavored breath coming in hot bursts against his lips, filled with nervous energy, a great excitement, a purpose. To the sound of his own voice breaking, splintering, begging.
No.
This is wrong.
Why are you crying? You wanted it , he said. Little prince. My favorite toy. That was a lie. Kaj hadn’t wanted him, he’d turned him down, so why was this happening? Why did he take what wasn’t his? I am nothing. I am weak. The world spun again and again, making him feel dizzy, making him feel how Jesper violated every inch of his body, claiming it as his own.
A sharp, nauseating wave rolled through Kaj’s stomach and up his throat. A hand touched his arm.
“Kaj—”
Kaj jerked back like he’d been burned, his heart bruising itself against his ribs, hammering so hard it felt like it might break through.
He needed to go.
He needed to get out .
Without another word, he just turned and ran .