8. Kristoff [part one]

Kristoff’s POV.

…

I’ll tell this in my own words — mostly because I don’t trust Kraven. I’d say he’s incapable of telling this correctly, and maybe I’m just the right guy to write it out. I’m sure Kraven’s version would be something like this: We fucked. We were unhappy. I left him.

His version would be clipped and crappy.

I spent my free time in Hamburg whenever I could, usually escaping there after an abrupt breakup or just because I needed an escape. I knew Glenn always had an extra room somewhere in that club of his, so I let him know I was coming over. Of course, he was ecstatic — I could hear him jumping around on the other side of the line.

Glenn gave me the room he kept upstairs, above the Morbid Massacre. He stayed downstairs – below double M – with his girlfriend Kraven. I don’t normally dislike people when I first meet them — but I didn’t like Kraven. Something about him made me wary of my surroundings. I couldn’t stand being in the same room as him. I couldn’t stand looking at him. Glenn’s a mystery, but Kraven’s a fucking puzzle.

It was Friday night suddenly and I woke up from my afternoon nap. Music from downstairs traveled up, disturbing my peace. I sat up on the bed, yawning and scratching my chin — it was time to pick up willing girls amidst a crowd of Glenn’s followers.

Some fast cyberpunk song resonated loudly, coming off the walls — but the floor was dead. I walked across the club leisurely, defiant against all the losers standing on the edges. The DJ changed the music — an obscene queercore band proclaiming…queerness, which everyone apparently loved.

I scanned the crowd, the dwellers, the people, but no one looked interesting enough. I went to the bar, determined not to find anyone — but a figure stood next to a storage closet beside the bar, pretty legs protruding from a small skirt. Fishnet on white legs under a leather scrap. I stared, interest piqued.

The person turned around swiftly, a boy I could easily confuse for a girl — a boy I normally called a girl anyway.

I didn’t bother turning away — staring at him, pulling out a cigarette for my after-nap smoke. He noticed me then, stopping and frowning. Yeah, well, he didn’t like me either and I was totally fine with that.

“What the Hell are you staring at?” he growled, taking the empty seat beside me. I wouldn’t stop looking at him, knowing it bothered the fuck out of him.

“I thought you were a girl.”

He let out a sarcastic snort, leaning against the counter, returning my unwavering gaze under that annoying, overgrown fringe of his.

“Don’t you always think I’m a girl?”

“That’s because you are a girl.”

He shook his head slowly, looking away finally before saying, “You’re a dick.”

“That’s because I have one.” I exhaled toward the overly flirtatious bartender wearing sloppy makeup. He winced, looking away somberly for once. “So where’s Glenn?” I asked Kraven, unwavering gaze wavering in favor of a blonde bimbo a few seats from him.

He turned around, whipping back toward me, mouth terse. He asked, “Is she really your type?”

“Where’s Glenn?” I asked again.

“Is she?”

I looked at him again, making sure my eyes bore deeply into his own. I could tell he bravely returned my stare. Unspoken words made their way across — and I can’t say I didn’t like them.

“Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Fucking Darwin — I was just wondering.” He called the bartender over. “Bring me two absinthes.”

My eyebrows quirked. “Are they both for you?”

“Why the fuck does it matter?” he mocked, a tiny derisive smile appearing on his lips. The tender placed them in front of us. “Let’s drink together. Tell me why you’re such an asshole.” He lifted the glass to me, sipping on it gently.

“I’m not an asshole — although, I have one of those, too,” I cheekily answered, pushing the glass to him. “I don’t drink as much as I smoke.” I offered him a drag, but he pushed it away from his face.

“I told you I don’t smoke,” he muttered, leaning away from me. He added, “And he’s downstairs taking care of business. He’s been down there for a while — I decided to come up. It’s more exciting here anyway.”

“How long have you known Glenn?”

“Almost two years now — in October.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two — in November.” I nodded lazily. “How old are you? I know you’re older than Glenn — but he’s always hazy on details — and frankly, I’m rabid on details.”

“Twenty-two — in October.” I matched his tone and he sat up on the stool, leaning forward a bit. I leaned back, making clear he was trespassing on personal space.

“You’re older by a month,” he flatly stated.

“Depends on the dates, doesn’t it?”

“Mine’s the seventh.”

“Mine’s the thirtieth.”

“Oh my Darwin and Spencer. You’re eight days older–”

“Who the fuck are Darwin and Spencer?”

He smiled, finishing his drink, a goofy expression on his face — I knew why he ordered the drinks. He wanted to get tipsy before talking to me. He wanted to relax. He didn’t want there to be silence and staring between us.

“Charles Darwin and Herbert Spencer — I use the second name loosely and ironically, because I’m not a fan of his theories. I’m an Evolutionist. I admire Darwin’s work. His Origin of Species was fucking awesome. It’s somewhere on my bookshelf. I’ve read it like a dozen times. I annotated each paragraph and wrote about three essays analyzing the way he presented his discoveries — I turned in one of them for biology my freshman year — oh my Darwin that was a long, long time ago. I’m so old, Kristoff — we’re so old–”

“You’re drunk.”

“Am I?” He hiccupped, holding my arm for support. “I guess I am — but you know what I really want to do right now — which is, like, totally something I would never do?“ He didn’t wait for my response. “I want to dance but I never dance but we should seriously dance — let’s dance, Kristy!” He pulled that same arm, dragging me to the middle of the dance floor. We were crushed amongst delirious people, people who enjoyed the night — knowing they would never be that young again.

God — I towered over Kraven. I must have been over a foot taller than him, which made me realize just how small and girlish he was. We were careful not to touch each other excessively, but every now and then his hands would hit me. He apologized and we moved on. At one weary point, he tripped and staggered forward, clutching onto my shirt. He giggled and mouthed something but I couldn’t hear him — I also couldn’t read his lips. The music was just way too loud to pay much attention to anything. I ignored him most of the time, wondering where all the wonderful babes ran off.

The disc jockey announced the arrival of a live band — another obscure group no one really knew. The crowd yelled and screamed in appreciation nevertheless. Kraven clung onto me as the band played and a mosh pit ensued. I held him close to me, shielding him from possible harm. Yeah, I know, I’m a real gentleman.

On our way out of the pit, I noticed him staring at me. Red eyes glowed under his hair. For a second, he really did look like a girl. If I hadn’t known who he was or what he was, I probably would have taken him somewhere else a little more private.

I smiled for the first time that evening. His silly grin appeared again, and then he looked away.

I led him to a red velvet couch on the opposite end. We sat, exhausted from dancing and pushing. A server walked by; I ordered two waters.

“No more drinking?” Kraven asked, fighting giggles, stretching himself across the couch, his head on my lap. He touched my face and made a little noise. “You don’t look anything like Glenn.”

“No more drinking for you — I’m just thirsty.”

Our glasses came shortly. I sipped on it quietly, observing Kraven, wondering if he was going to drink his water or not. He did — but the dummy drunk tried drinking it while lying down. The water tumbled out onto his face, the ice hitting his eyes and nose. He laughed, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

“This is why you shouldn’t be drinking, Kraven.”

“I just — I just wanted to let loose for tonight — it’s so fun!” he sputtered, forcing himself to stop. He sat up, his disheveled hair sticking up in all directions. I patted his arm soothingly, finishing my water regrettably. He sighed.

“Are you done?”

“I don’t know.”

I stared at him and he stared at me. His smile disappeared.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, pinching the skin on his skinny arm.

He looked down at the area, watching his skin turn pink. He said, “Is it possible to actually like someone you don’t know much about?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Never mind.”

“Do you like me?”

“You’re okay. I thought I could — hate you. I thought I could dislike you because of Glenn — but I can’t. I like you, Kristoff — as a person. You’re a nice guy.”