HENCOW BEAUTY PART 3

Chapter Three: Fitting In.

   Henry awoke early the next day to the sound of a steel toed boot hitting his metal bed frame. "Get up dipshit, you're gonna be late for the group shit we're required to do." Moscow flicked his nose harshly, waking him up effectively. "Some asshole's been playing piano since three AM."

   "So hitting my bed was necessary," Henry thought to himself. Unwilling to face the wrath of arguing, he got up and began changing into his day clothes. "He's not an asshole, he's playing for his family. He hallucinates that they're still alive, there's Gilbert, Ludwig, and his childhood friend, Elizabeth." He could deal with getting himself yelled at daily, but he wouldn't take it for his friends.

   The bigger man shrugged, walking out and heading to the rec room, where the baroque sounding music came from. His eyes fell upon Peyton, watching Roderich play and swaying his head in time. He cleared his threat, making his presence known.

   Roderich looked up, waving to him. "You must be Moscow Braginsky. Hallo, I'm Roderich, one of Henry's friends. My boyfriend is Peyton, but he can't speak. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." He nodded to a spot in the wall, "That's my cousin, Gilbert, and his brother, Ludwig. My friend Elizabeth is over by the entryway." Of course, these were merely his delusions, but he felt so strongly about their realism, he waited for another person to see them.

   Henry scampered to catch up, standing next to Moscow. "Yeah, he's my roomie!"

   "Your 'roomie' can speak for himself, dipshit. Thanks for the welcome wagon, but I don't make friends. I'm just stuck here for a while, so I'll give you what I told Henry. Stay out of my way."

   Peyton, who was raised to persist in being friendly, stood up and offered his hand cordially. "Aykaaahhhh!!!!" He meant something along the lines of, "Oh, poor sir, surely you must want at least one friend? I'll welcome you warmly, if so," but it was evidently lost in translation when a Russian uppercut found its destination on his chin.

   "Quit squawking like some deaf penguin, it's disgusting." With his friendly parting words, he left the trio, standing in the corner and glaring across the room.

   Peyton's face dropped, twisting into a heartbroken look. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then immediately closed it, blushing scarlet red in embarrassment and leaving the room as quickly as he could. Too far.

   Henry watched as Rod abandoned his piano playing, following Peyton to their room and trying to talk to him. No way he was letting this one slide. "Moscow, what the hell?!? He's been mute since he blew his brains out, you think that's even okay to say?!?!?!"

   "Not my fault he's a dumb, suicidal piece of shit. And don't think I'm not on to you. I know your weaknesses. I could embarrass you in front of everyone, don't think I won't." Moscow delivered these threats with ease, but felt a small swell in his chest. He couldn't place this feeling...protection? Over what? A smelly string bean-shaped idiot? This is unsettling.. "So, like I said, stay out of my way. Or I'll tell the whole ward about the gay magazines I found the minute I walked in."

   "You wouldn't."

   "Mister Mathieu, I would like to make an announc--"

   Henry shushed him, pulling him into a hall quickly and ignoring the croaky sobbing noises drifting from a farther room. "Fine, I get it, you're the boss. That's fine. But if Peyton succeeds the next time he tries, think about the blood on your hands! Think of how it'd affect Rod and me!!"

   Moscow sighed, glaring down at Henry scathingly. "I don't care about blood. See this scar? Came from my dad, age six. I was playing around, accidentally broke a vase. He went batshit crazy, poured boiling water down my face. Eleven years later, I drowned him in the ocean. Don't even try and speak to me about blood." He shoved Henry, storming back to his room and sitting heavily against the bed. "I can't be getting feelings for him...there's no way. I..I want him. As my own. Now." With this burning realization, the feeling swelled, and he knew he had made a huge mistake.