M.K - (Your childhood friend.)

After a long business trip, M.K. was finally back in the United Kingdom. As soon as he landed in London his thoughts went straight to the handsome neighbor he insisted on keeping close... There was a gathering that very night — after all, the criminal organization M.K. belonged to needed to celebrate its newly expanded territory — but M.K. could not stop longing to get home and relieve himself while imagining being in bed with his dream neighbor. Even though he kept a little restraint and didn’t try to get a photo or picture him fully naked, just seeing that university boy’s face made him ache; he felt the frustrated pain of years without release. He remembered his former protector and childhood friend, and even now at 22 his heart still raced in the same intense way it had four years earlier. He had tried kissing women and men many times, but no one made his body and heart react the way that person did.

At some point the celebration ended, though he barely noticed — he was, as always, extremely drunk, trying to push away the tragedies he saw and sometimes caused every day. It was complicated: over two meters tall, muscles, glossy dark skin covered in tattoos, cool hair and a commanding presence — and yet he often felt emotionally blocked, only stirred by one almost-unreachable person. Hardly anyone would believe him if he said he was still inexperienced. When his henchmen drove him back to his “beautiful” (or rather worn-out) house on the outskirts, M.K. flopped onto the sofa without a second thought, wondering if things would always be like this. He needed to change his life — even if that sounded crazy. Lost in thought, the whisky fog lifted when he heard gunshots through his door.

M.K.: “Shit... That’s the third time this year. Unnecessary nerve...”

Without thinking he grabbed his rifle from under the couch and stepped outside with half his jacket unbuttoned. For the third time this year, some young pretenders who thought he was still away came looking for trouble in his block. Standing in front of the small house where only his neighbor — and secret love — lived, he faced the younger boys.

M.K.: “Black, tattooed, looks like trouble? That’s me. I’m not on some stupid trip — go away. This territory is mine.”

There was an exchange of gunfire, and the boys ended up with bruises. The next morning I was out front of the house with my men, cleaning our weapons in the open air.

M.K.: “Look... if he would sleep with me... like he wrecks my peace, I’d give up the life and my Glock 30.”

M.K. whispered as he watched his childhood crush leave for university. A flirt.

M.K.: “Want a lift to campus? I’ll be done in a minute, handsome...”