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Information

Given Name: Flikkin Adamsky Witzenburge.
NickName: Flik, Muffin
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexual orintation: Gay
Status: Engaged!
Occupation: Without again, will need another soon.
Pet: Luigi the white persian (pronounced 'lew-gee')


Disposition: Sweet, soft-hearted, Dreamer, Peaceful, soft spoken, affectionate, friendly, worried, laid back, cutesy, talkative, oblivious, optimistic, stubborn, giving, selfless, innocent, ignorant at times, curious, gullible.
Accent: Very strong german accent, its impossible to miss.
Birth date: 5-10-1987
Likes: Music, Art, blankets, pillows, comfort, Kisses, sleep, decorating, Shopping, horses, cleaning, helping others, storms, giving things, eating, Playing soccer, Cats and kittens, feeling cared about, warm weather and cold weather (just weather in general), hugs, School, making friends, Beer, sleeping in, feeling important and the beach.
Love: Muffin Man
Dislikes: Rude people, fish, pizza, when people don't make eye contact, hospitals, cockroaches, animal abuse, child abuse...any sort of abuse, Teasing, the color orange, football, sad things, being left alone, horror movies, Sickness, gore, violence, fighting, Seeing Dante hurt/sick/sad, doctors/hospitals/needles and Shoes
Bad Habits: Smoking though trying to quit (Off and On), Drinking orange juice strait from the carton. He eats too quickly and he stares too much. He doesn't pay much attention to himself, and he ought to.
Talents: Eating, sleeping, Soccer, Giving Back massages.
LiveJournal: Clickums
Wishes and Dreams: Wishes he could be everything Dante ever wanted, dreams of Marrige.
Fetishes: Hand fetish, some food fetishes (whip cream/honey), some lingerie. 'Bad boys' also could be considered as a sort of fetish.
[Appearance]


Hair color: Dark brown
Eye color: Dark Golden/brown
Nationality: German
Clothing: Anything cute, mostly dark colors- but definatly not goth. He has a thing for sweaters, and hip-hugging, bellbottoms (girls jeans). He does like scarfs and hats, and even sunglasses if he has the time to shop for them for himself. He is stylish, but not insanely so. He always makes a point to look nice.
Skin tint: Fair
Height: Around 5"8 inches
Weight: 110 lbs
Build: Petite.

Other: A tattoo just over his belly button written in black ink and old English lettering. It reads 'Dante'. He has one small scar on his lower back from a previous surgery. He's left handed and currently has braces.
[Other Stuff]


Pet peeve: Having things on his feet
Most embarassing habit: Rambling off, Blushing.
Most embarassing moment: Walking out of the bedroom after having been 'lovey' with Dante only to find their friends had been listening in right in the other room.
Worst experiance: Seeing Dante hurting.
Favorite Item: New Engagment ring!
Favorite food: Fettuchini alfredo
Favorite drink: Beer and hot chocolate
Favorite musical group: Narcosis (cause his lovey-muffin is in it)
Biggest secret: He hates New York
Biggest fears: Leprechauns, The Dark, loosing Dante, Kris
Blood type: AB-
Allergies: Pollen, Bee stings and sun lotion.
Health conditions: Anemia and Hemopheila.

My Muffin Man

  • Dante. Never in my life did I think I'd actually think I'd meet somebody or have somebody like Dante. Its been over a year now I've known him, and lived with him- and even though its been rough its been the best year ever. I've learned a lot and even though a lot of bad has happened I wouldn't change anything. Things between Dante and I are indescribable. Imperfect...yet perfect. I know we will be together tell the end- I know he loves me, and I know I love him. More than words can express. I love him more than anything- he is so much more than just a necessity for me now. He owns my heart, he is a part of me now. And as of Febuary fourteenth 2006 we are engaged, for a second time- this time its going to last too ^-^. We really are going to be together forever.







Friends & acquaintances


Mireq is somebody I wouldn't necessarily consider a good friend. He's my doctor, Dante's doctor- and thats really all. I can't say I like doctors much either. >>

Yata is a friend of mine, a good friend at that. He's from Russia, and he can't speak well either, but, I think he is a bit worse off than I am. Hm. He's very kind, and easy to talk to- I hope to spend more time with him.

Tinter is another kind man- he took me in when I was lost and without Dante for the night. I haven't had much time to talk to him- but I'm sure I will in the future at some point if I keep in touch with Yata. Yata lives with him.

Crow is another guy who lives with Tinter. I..never talked to him, but...I do at least know who he is.

Fire is yet another guy living with Tinter. He seemed a little, edgey I dunno, maybe I caught him on a bad day last I met him. He seemed unhappy- I'd like to talk to him more.

Kris is Dante's...well step-brother. I hate this man more than ever- he's hurt us both and done so much to spoil things. He is one person I cannot forgive. I truly hate him.

Mohawk man is a scary individual. I don't understand his reason behind a lot of things, and I can't say he's a friend of mine either- infact I consider him more of an enemy than anything after how many times he's hurt me or my lovey.

Erin is in Dante's band- he's also his friend I think. I don't know- he's tried to steal Dante from me before, so he's another guy who I don't feel too fond of.

Astev is another great friend, one of my best I'd say. He's very kind, and very giving- he's been there for me through thick and thin and I don't think you could ask for much more than that in a friend.

Ant is Astev's...wife? Husband? THey are married, and its inspiring to see that, a couple like them. Ant is none too fond of me though I'd say- he never seems happy when I'm around.

Karma is another guy I've seen around the group Dante hangs around with. I'm not sure what to think of him- I know he's involved with drugs, but Dante's proved that that doesn't mean that your a bad person.

Jay is the drummer in Dante's band. He's a good guy too, I think of him as a friend. He's done a lot for us, to help us through our troubles- and some day i'll repay him.

Baby Bee is a little boy, about a two years old, I babysit. He comes from a rather mixed up family, which lives next door- but I do swear that he is an angel. I love the little guy, he's so darling, and I do wish I could keep him as my own. I know Dante feels the same- pity. Either way, we both love him and enjoy watching over him.





My Story

    For the most part of it, Flik’s younger years were spent without much of a life. From the time he was born until he was four were years he could not recall though his mother sure could and would. Those were the years that Flik was at his cutest, she’d spend hours down town shopping for outfits to dress up her baby boy in; little shoes and hats all of which just in the end made the child miserable. Leonore had been hoping for a girl when she was pregnant but now that she had her boy, she found it was even better! He’d be that somebody who would carry on the family name once they were of age, married and had children. And not only that, but also for now until he was eighteen she could dress him up as if he were a doll whenever she wanted. She had once entered the boy into the ‘Most Beautiful Child’ contest when Flik was about three and she was proud to announce to everybody in their small town that Flik had won. He had won a trophy, he had been on public television and Leonore had been awarded quiet a deal of money as well. Of course the baby never got anything out of this other than a day neglected from his nap and afternoon snack of cheese and crackers. Of course Leonore’s husband, Adam, he was not pleased with her for this. He didn’t want his son being dolled up like some sort of female then drug off to what may as well be a stock show with children instead of cows or pigs. There had been many arguments over this subject; but Leonore always won. Flik was signed up to join the next years contest and he was going to win; she just knew it. However, when the time did roll around after Flik’s fourth birthday they found him unable to attend. The boy had been ill since January, bed-ridden mostly with whooping cough and every other air-borne illness known to man. Once he got over one, he came down with another, he just was never well and he was loosing his beauty; or so his mother would have said. He was tended to of course, each day his grandmother brought him up breakfast lunch and dinner, all of which were not touched. His cousins came to read stories to him too during the afternoon as well; but Flik always fell asleep during them. The only thing Flik woke up for and looked forwards to was the arrival of his father after work was over. It was always late, and Flik was always in trouble for being awake at such a time but that never stopped him. Flik adored his father as any normal son would his father in the ‘normal’ circumstances. He wanted to be just like his Daddy when he grew tall and big, he’d have a small beard and nice big buff arms that enabled him to lift whatever he wanted. Flik would remember the very night before he was taken elsewhere; the last time he’d ever spend with his father. It was a night just like any other, the lights were out and the inhabitants of the house had all crawled into their beds. All but Flik; it was that time, the only time that he could be found up and out of bed. He had been waiting, watching the clock near his bedside table until certain hands reached certain places. For a four year old, being able to tell when it was exactly eleven o’clock was certainly something to brag about. Once the hands of the clock reached those places, the ill boy was up. He tossed his furry blankets off of himself then sat up in his bed; the springs squeaking lightly as he did. He rolled over onto his belly then slowly lowered his feet over the edge of the bed until he felt the footie-part of his pajamas touch the cold wood. This was all a terrifying experience for him; lowering his feet right in view of the Leprechauns which lurked in the dark abbess under that bed of his…always waiting there with their glowing eyes to bite his toes off and then suck out his soul while he slept. So, as soon as he had his feet planted on the floor he was off. He turned his back to the bed as he scuttled out of his room; the sounds of his tiny feet pitter-pattering on the wood as he ran. Out into the long dark hallway he ventured, unable to see anything but the very end of it which led to the spiral staircase that would lead him downwards. The boy continued to run, his arms outstretched ahead of him, his feet shuffling quickly under him to take him out of this dangerous territory. His breathing was close to being hyperventilated, his eyes holding tears that were soon to spill. He knew the leprechauns were right behind him; his cousins had told him they would be out at this time searching for the souls of small children. He’d risk it all though to see his Daddy; after all, his Daddy was the one who could protect him. Once he had scuttled his way down the hall, to the staircase, he had fallen into crying. Don’t look back, he kept thinking, just don’t look back. The tears were blurring his vision as well as stinging his chapped, feverish cheeks. But, even though all these obstacles were set ahead of him he’d keep on and be brave; like his Daddy. So down the stairs he went; his full-length yellow pajama’s sort of glowing in whatever small bit of moonlight that shined in through the skylight up over head. “Flikkin…go back to bed…” he heard a voice moaning; sure, it sounded like his mother’s but he knew it wasn’t. The leprechauns had the ability to mimic voices too, they were magic after all. Hurriedly now, he jumped down the last few steps, panting and coughing in his weak way before he hustled his little body to the front door where his father should be coming to any moment now. His arms were hugged to his chest, his body trembling all over now as he waited with no patience what so ever. His big brown eyes flitted from one dark spot in the enormous living room, to the other; any noises that were sounding startled him. The old boards of the house creaked, the windows crackling every so often as the wind howled eerily outside. Impatiently still, as the moments passed, Flik had fallen into staring directly up at the door handle which should be turning any moment; his father was due to be home. His tearful eyes stuck to the handle, watching it as a puppy would watch a treat dangled in front of its nose. And soon enough it did turn, but not only that, it came forwards as well; bonking the boy smack in the center of his forehead with a thump. Flikkin fell back onto the floor with another thud, his hands holding to the spot on his forehead where the pain was felt. Being not but four years old and highly displeased, the water works were soon started up. A deep breath was first taken in before his little eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was opened to let the cries come forth. On the other side of the door, his father had been, pausing after he felt the handle bump into something on the other side. With the screaming that soon followed he bump and thump, Adam knew just what had happened. He stepped his muscular body into his hand-built home, one hand brushing against the wall where a light-switch was and soon light poured down from the chandeliers. “Flikkin, you silly goose, didn’t I tell you I’d come say goodnight once I got home?” he asked with a sad chuckle, leaning down to scoop up the small boy in his seemingly invincible arms. Once up off the floor now, finding himself cuddled in the arms he had been missing; Flik’s cries soon stooped down to being nothing more than whimpers and small hiccups. “Daddy I missed you.” He whined in his childishly small voice; those tearful, big brown puppy-eyes focusing up on his father’s ocean-blue ones. “I missed you too, but its time for bed.” His father stated, pressing a kiss to the darkening spot on his son’s pale forehead where he had been hit with a doorknob. His old boots were soon moving beneath them, heading forwards towards the long, dark staircase followed by the treacherous, leprechaun infested hallway. Flik wasn’t afraid now though, his father was strong, he could protect him from anything. With his feeling of security now, Flik’s eyelids had begun to get heavy again; what was left visible of his eyes were still staring adoringly up at his father. “Are you feeling better today son?” Adam soon asked in his low, soft voice as he easily made his way up those twenty-some stairs. Flik blinked slowly, sniffing once before he gave a nod; lying really. No, he wasn’t feeling well, he never was and he was just getting worse every day. As of now he was coming down with a flu virus; the very flu virus that’d get him taken in for that unforgettable doctor’s check up. “Kuwrt wreaded me a book about ponies today. I want a pony.” The young boy stated behind a yawn; his eyes soon opening again as he felt his father’s thick fingers on his soft cheeks; wiping away the tears that had been stuck there. “Well…” His father started as he softly stepped into Flik’s little bedroom; moving over to lay the tired boy back in his bed. “I don’t see any reason why you can’t have a pony.” He added as he stooped down to rest his son on the bed; soon after tucking blankets around him to keep him warm. Adam grinned a bit at the smile he got from Flik, the way his tired, dark eyes seemed to light up at those words. “A wreal pony just like bob?” Flik asked, his hand groping around on his bed for a moment before his stubby fingers found the pink unicorn plushie he called ‘Bob’. He held the toy up for his father to see, getting a chuckle from the man after. “Well, we’ll see if we can find a pink one…maybe I’ll go looking tomorrow. For now though, you need your rest.” Adam spoke in that same, comforting deep voice; one of his large hands smoothing back Flik’s wispy dark hair from his forehead so he could lean down and press a goodnight kiss there again. Flik giggled in his silly way after, feeling the tickle of his father’s scruffy beard against his skin which caused him to turn his head slightly aside in a manner most people would consider shyly. “Daddy you will sing my song for me wright?” He asked after, his smiling dimming some as his hands clutched to the poor, under stuffed unicorn plushy who too had the ability to protect Flik from leprechauns. “Oh I suppose so…” Adam shifted, sitting on the edge of the bed as he always did. This was how it always was; the father set on the side of the bed late at night, singing to his son the same song he had sung to him since he was not even old enough to recognize him as his father. Flik wiggled down in his bed some, smiling again to his father, anxiously, waiting for those soothing lyrics to ease him to sleep. And soon they came in his father’s deep voice; that voice that he’d never forget for as long as he lived. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these sunken eyes and learn to see All your life You were only waiting for this moment to be free Blackbird fly Blackbird fly Into the light of the dark black night Blackbird fly Blackbird fly Into the light of the dark black night Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise You were only waiting for this moment to arise You were only waiting for this moment to arise.” It was like magic, the way that song seemed to put Flik to sleep. For as soon as the song had finished and Adam glanced towards his child he found him to be out like a light. He smiled in a satisfied, loving manner as he got himself to his feet. “Goodnight Flik.” He whispered before he left the room as silently as a shadow. That was the last time Flik was enabled to be in the company of his father; to hear his loving, truthful voice, to listen to the words to his favorite song. For soon, his father would soon be wiped from his life entirely, leaving the boy with nothing but a memory. It was the very next day that Flik’s mother took him off to the hospital- having been startled and scared when her son’s fever reached 104.1 and he had suffered some sort of seizure then lost consciousness. He was immediately rushed in, and checked over in the emergency room. It was many hours and many tests later when they finally had him diagnosed and admitted into the hospital. He had Leukemia- one of the worst types and he had it bad. Chemotherapy was immediately started- even so though, upon learning of his illness the doctors gave him four months to live. However, after five months of being in and out of the hospital had past, Flik was still hanging on to his mother’s surprise. It was painful to see him in such a state and sometimes she did wish that he could pass peacefully in his sleep though he never. He soon was checked into the hospital where he’d remain for intensive care. And even through seemingly pointless chemotherapy, one painful, unsuccessful bone-marrow transplant, the four year old clung on to life with all he had left. This was when his life seemed to flat-line for awhile; his family visits being less frequent, the hours he spent awake dwindled as well. It wasn’t before long that he’d go weeks without any visitors and days were spent drifting in and out of a coma. This confused doctors; the boy was so near death and he had been for so long but he wasn’t growing any worse or getting any better. To Flik’s disadvantage after he had been hospitalized, his father had never come to see him. He never understood his reasoning, though later he figured out that his father had a fear of the place and he was weak; he never could stand to see his son with five different tubes stuck in him, on a respirator and not being much more than a tiny skeleton. Leonore however, she did visit Flik on a monthly basis, bringing him news of all that was going on at home without him. Adam had gotten Flik that pony, and Flik was told it was waiting there for him when/if he got well again. Perhaps that’s what gave Flik motivation to struggle, maybe it was that his father was at home waiting for him too; who knows. Once two years of this continuous hospital stay had passed and Flik was of age six he was allowed home for a week as a sort of holiday. Chemotherapy was still at this point being administered, but the boy was hardly improving. Not only was this visit for Flik to see his pony; but also he had a funeral to attend. On his first day of being home from the hospital, Flik had like always waited up for his father; though he never returned. The second day, the same thing happened and Flik began to question his mother. The third day, the very day of the funeral Flik was informed of the accident his father had been in. A work accident which of course she never spilled the details about to the young boy. Even in his fast oncoming depressive state; Flik’s twelve year old cousin, Kurt never hesitated to terrify the boy with morbid detail about his father’s death whom he had been there to witness. Of course the funeral did come, and the fact that his father had died soon settled in with Flik. Life went on at its unusually slow pace. Flik was taken back to the hospital a week after to continue with his grueling treatments. Flik was never expected to see home again after his last visit at six years old; he was never even expected to live this long in the first place. But, after five painfully long years of being lid in a bed, Flik was finally cured of the stubborn disease though, the doctor did warn him that it could and would return back at any time so monthly check-ups were a necessity…for the rest of his life. Agreements were made, medicine was handed out and Flik was then set free from the hospital. Free, at last, Flik was going home…yet, he didn’t even really remember what it was like seeing as it had been three whole years since he had set foot in the mansion. But, that never mattered…all that mattered was that he was free, freed from the hospital which had always been considered more a prison than anything to him. Secluded in one room, shunned from all existence expect hospital staff. Practically chained to a bed by his I.V.s and tubes connected to more things than anybody would like to know about. Free, set free from prison where he had gone for a crime that he had never committed…he was innocent; so what had been the point of all this? Why him, what had he ever done to deserve it? Many a times had he found himself wonder that, day in and day out…But now, he’d be free from that as well. The four foot three, fifty pound nine-year old was being led from the walls that had consumed him for those years; his bruised, frail hand quivering excitedly in his mothers as she led him to their truck. Out the automatic doors and into the fresh, real air; the air that made him feel well all around again just upon breathing it. He inhaled a deep lung full of it, inhaling until his chest felt near to popping like a over-filled balloon. Oh, life, never again would he have reason to whine, never again would he cry or be upset over illness or anything…this was his second chance, and hell if he’d live his life to its fullest. He was going to do what he wanted and be what he wanted…well, or so he thought at the time. “Kurt got lovey all saddled up for you, so when you get home you can finally ride him.” Leonore stated as she helped her skeleton like son climb up into the passenger’s seat of the tall truck. Flik climbed weakly up, his flimsy muscles twitching from exhaustion though he’d soon be working on gaining them back. “I’ve wanted to ride my pony; I only got to see him once.” Flik stated breathlessly, seating his boney-behind into the cushions of the trucks-seat, his spindly arms soon moving at hooking up the the seat belt over his lap. Leonore shut her son’s door for him gently, making sure that no limbs had been in its way before hand. She then scuttled her petite way over to the opposite side of Flik; climbing in to the driver’s spot with ease and then starting the truck’s noisy, diesel engine. “I know son, I know, its been rough, but its over now. Just think…you can go to school now with other kids. Maybe pick up a sport or two as well…I know some local boys who’d love to have you over to play sometime too…I see them all the time down in the fields playing soccer; you should join them sometime.” Leonore offered, glancing over her shoulder to check for traffic before she pulled out of the parking spot then started on down the road towards the road that led towards home. Flik nodded his bald head which was for the time covered by a oversized stocking hat with a pom-pom set on its top. A pretty smile was set on his pale lips, his once dull eyes having life to them again; twinkling in the late afternoon sun. Health and life were truly things to be cherished! There was so much to do, so many things to experience…it was almost overwhelmingly exciting. Flik was going to have a wonderful life, he just knew it. He was going to be something great, something that his father would have been proud to brag about. Somebody who will be remembered for years to come after their day of passing has come and gone. And so life did go on after Flik’s release. Not more than a week after he had gotten off chemotherapy and out of the hospital he was already attending school as well as down playing soccer with the other boys in the field. He was growing healthier each day that passed now too; noticeably so. His appetite was entirely amazing, food was piled away without a problem now and energy was always abundant until around nine in the evening when Flik crashed in his bed. His family was so proud to once more have their little one, the baby of the family as well as the one who would carry on the Witzenburge name. Not all hope had been lost after all. Flik continued to surprise them all further still though too. With his outstanding grades and his charming disposition; they all knew that once he reached ‘that age’ he’d be a total hit with the ladies. He was polite, gentlemanly, selfless and handsome like his father too. It only took a few months for his silky brown hair to grow back in and his hat to be lost. His weight was going up too as well, his once protruding bones being hidden now under a nice layer of muscle which actually made him look like the average ten year old. Inches were being added in more than one way now too; he was growing taller all the time. Being as hopeful as always, his mother was sure Flik would grow to be as tall, if not taller than his father who had been a nice six feet tall. Though, even as their were plenty to find positive in Flik’s changing appearance and his blossoming personality; there was always that few negative things that made the family begin to whisper. At age twelve Flik had attended his first dance; having been arranged to go with a cute, wealthy female named Julia. His mother had gone all out for him, getting him a nice, professionally fitted tuxedo and all the necessities to go with it so her son may acquire his first girlfriend. The hope was high…very high. However, Leonore was in for a major shock here. The door swung open swiftly, its tiny glass window nearly breaking as the door smashed into the wall nearest it. Leonore felt her heart nearly burst at the noise from the living room, her head being turned and one thin eyebrow arching in question as she stared to what had just entered the home. Flik stood in the doorway, his suit unbuttoned and his shirt un-tucked. Tears were wetting his pink cheeks which on one side also displayed a print made by fluorescently colored pink lipstick. “Mommy.” He sobbed, ambling forwards pathetically; acting very immature for a twelve year old who was supposed to be out dating. “Flikkin, my goodness what on earth happened?” Leonore asked, shocked at this sight. This so wasn’t how it was supposed to be! She almost had the nerve to get angry at Flik already without even knowing any true reason behind this mess he’s gone and made out of tonight. She stood from her recliner, soon moving towards her son to get a better look though never did she have a chance. Flik’s lean arms were strapped around her in type of ‘death-grip’ hug, his head being leaned against her bosom. “I…I…I..I got scared mom, I…Julia…J-Julia.” He stammered, speaking between gasps and small sobs; his tearful brown eyes squeezing shut tighter which let more tears work their way down his cheeks. “Shh…calm down son…here, I’ll get you some water…you tell me what happened.” She stated, pulling away from Flik to go to the sink where a glass was filled with nice cool water which came from their own water-well. Flik stumbled forwards pathetically, slumping down in a chair at the kitchen table; his hand taking the glass his mother offered to him as soon as it was in reach. One gulp was downed and then two before he tried to speak up again. “…That girl…the one…t-the one I went with.” He started, glancing up to his mother every so often pathetically, his face in some odd way resembling that of a guilty puppy. Something in him knew that his mother was going to be unhappy with him about what had gone down. “Yes Flikkin?” She asked, impatient with her traumatized boy. “Julia…sh-she…she kissed me mom, I didn’t know what to do…I didn’t want her to. I…I had to run. I don’t like dances. I don’t want to go to one…not ever again, please don’t make me go again mom…please.” Leonore, not to Flik’s surprise, stared at him, disappointedly, blinking before her arms were crossed over her chest. “…Why would you be scared of that?” she asked harshly; Julia would have been the perfect match for Flik. Being blonde (as most were in the town he grew up in), wealthy, and her parents were of course best friend’s with Flik’s. Leonore just couldn’t give up so easily with Flik here being unhappy with that girl who was his perfect match. Flik blinked again a few more times, inhaling sharply a few times; his lungs being accustomed to the odd breaths that came with crying. “..I-I..dunno, I just…I just didn’t like it. I don’t like her mom. I don’t want to go to dances anymore. I’d rather go to boy scouts.” He murmured, wiping one hand at his eyes; feeling guilty now for some reason he couldn’t really place blame behind. “Flikkin no, your at the age where you need to start being interested in females, interested in the future. You don’t want to grow up to live alone do you? You don’t want to end up with somebody who isn’t financially stable either. Flik, this had been in your best interests…now.” She paused, giving a heavy sigh as well as a roll of her eyes. “On Monday, at school, I want you to apologize to her and make up. She likes you Flikkin…don’t be rude.” And with that as the solution to this ‘problem’, Leonore left the room leaving Flik there to think over what he had done wrong and how he should go about apologizing…if he ever was to. “…But I don’t like her.” He murmured to himself, letting his head fall forwards to being rested in his hands as the tears started again. Flik never did apologize to the girl whom he entirely disliked; no, he just went back to school and kept up with his grades like a good-boy should. His mother was unhappy with him; though eventually after a year she seemed to forgive Flik for not being attracted to the girl known as Julia. The girl who was now the town slut. She had other girls in mind now for Flik; Michelle, Susie or even Kathleen. Many attempts were made by Leonore to get her son attached to different girls; and each time he rejected them. This worried Leonore, very much. Shouldn’t a healthy fourteen year old male be interested in females now? After one more attempt, Flik was taken to the doctors, humiliated and given a physical…and of course nothing was found wrong there either. Flik was a healthy fourteen year old boy…well in the doctor’s eyes at least. Leonore knew something was wrong now though; the very thought of her son possibly being a homosexual gave her nightmares. And, secretly, in the room just down the hall from hers different sets of dreams were being had. Some frightening…yet good. Not only were there dreams now but constant thoughts as well. Thoughts that made Flik feel ways he had heard his cousins speak of, but he hadn’t ever really experienced them himself. It got so bad that just being in the company of this other individual got him hard, it made him have to leave; run into the boy’s bathroom or some other secluded area to try and pleasure himself. It wasn’t hard…never while thinking of his crush. This Crush had become a secret obsession to the teen. Zak was his name…and to Flik, he was everything even though Zak never even noticed Flik before. It was only so long before his mother found out about this through a certain ‘Journal.’ Leonore had snuck into her son’s room each day for the past two weeks; searching for some sort of evidence. Today, on a Tuesday; mid afternoon was when she finally found the little purple splotched book hidden between Flik’s mattresses. His journal. Almost excitedly, she sat down on his bed with the book open on her lap; her fingers flipping through the pages though one in particular caught her eye. It read Dear Diary, Today has been another great day…every day has been great since I’ve found Zak. He’s so amazing. I don’t even have to talk to him to be happy…I just watch. Though I would be ecstatic if he spoke to me…I don’t know what I’d say to him. He’s so lovely. He’s the ideal boy in my eyes…Black hair, pale eyes, great body…and his attitude. He’s such a rebel; he’s always in detention…my complete opposite seeing as I’ve never had detention yet. I don’t know yet, but I think today I am going to talk to him. I can’t hold back for much longer I don’t think…I’d at least be pleased to know that he knew I existed. I just want him to say hi to me, or he can even tell me to fuck off and I’ll be happy then too. I just wish he’d notice me…I think I love him Shocked, and pale in the face, Leonore turned the page to the next one- her amber colored eyes intent on the words written down in ink, in her son’s handwriting. Dear Diary, I followed Zak today when he and his friends were walking home from school. They took the long way through the woods back near our house, and I think there they were smoking. I’ve never smoked before- but I bet that if I did Zak would pay attention to me then; maybe even let me be a part of their group. I’m going to steal some of Kurt’s cigarettes tonight and teach myself how to smoke so tomorrow when I do it I will look good for him. I can’t wait. I feel like we were meant to be together somehow. She found herself holding her breath- her eyes wide on the paper that lid out before her. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. Shakily, Leonore turned to the next page, her eyebrows now furrowing with anger as she read. Dear Diary, I’m sorry I haven’t written. I’ve been busy. I did get into Zak’s group finally; I knew smoking would get me there. He talks to me now, and today, he actually put his hand on my shoulder when we were down in the forest behind our house. I got hard…and luckily nobody noticed- I couldn’t leave…I didn’t want to. I wanted to kiss him, and I almost did. He has the most beautiful lips; I’ve never seen any like them. Irresistible, he is irresistible. I love him- that’s what these feelings have to be. I wonder If he likes me back, I don’t know what he’d say if I asked him- I’m afraid to…nobody in this town tolerates that sort of thing. And I know its wrong of me to feel this way. My mom, my family, they would disown me. Tomorrow I’ll ask him…I’ll talk to him. I have to. This is going to drive me crazy. She flipped to the next page, violently almost, a sort of fiery hatred burning in her eyes. The page was blotted, the ink smeared- obviously some sort of water or moisture had been dripped onto it as it had been written- undoubtedly tears. Dear diary, Today was the worst day of my life. I wasn’t ready to talk to Zak, but today something out of the ordinary happened. They were smoking something different…something illegal. I tried it, and I wasn’t thinking…I tried to kiss Zak. But I didn’t get far…He beat me, They beat me up. They beat me up so bad then left me there…and Zak was calling me names. I hurt, I hurt so bad- I think my heart is broken. I told my mom I fell down the hill, that’s why I’m bruised, and why I was home so late. I want to die…I want to kill myself…I’m going to kill myself. I hate love. And having read enough of this now, Leonore, in a rage, slapped the book shut, kept it in hand then immediately marched off to the phone. All the families’ assumptions had just been proved- Flik had been hiding this from them and it was wrong. He had lied, and had to be punished and set right. Set right, and set strait. It was after Leonore found that Journal when Flik’s really began to take a turn for the ultimate worst. Not only was Flik very obviously not accepted, but he was no longer truly loved by any member of his family other than his senile old grandmother. He was taken out of school for awhile, and put into home-school; he was only allowed out for soccer practice twice a week. Things got worse at home too- his cousin Kurt and his group of friends were constantly picking on Flik for his sexual orientation which had now made his family and especially him the laughing stock for the whole small town. And if they were not laughed at or poked fun at because of this, then they were hated; and Flik’s mother, Aunts and uncles all began to hate him more for ruining their reputation. Flik was able to withstand the abuse for a year and a half- and then when he turned sixteen he decided to get into exchange schooling. His mother only accepted this idea because it was going to get Flik away from the family for awhile- away so they could have time to regain their reputation in the town and perhaps come up with some sort of plan to set their youngest strait again. It was in early December that Flik got his plane tickets, apartment and school schedule and was sent off to a city he had only seen in photographs or on the television. New York City, Manhattan- this is where he was to go; and with high hopes and an oddly optimistic attitude, Flik was more than ready to go. He took with him not but a suitcase and a backpack, only having clothes and money here to live off- no love, no friends, and no support. Flik was strong, and determined that still, even though he was hated by everybody he ever knew now because of one minor detail- that life could still be live-able. Somebody out there would understand him. By February he had settled into his new, lonesome apartment near the largest school in New York. He felt more so comfortable behind its thin walls than he did anywhere else. School was not what he had expected it to be- he found it to be just like home, only half the time people were talking bad about him he couldn’t understand what it was they were saying. There was more people here, more people here in this ugly country to just discriminate and abuse him both verbally and physically. And soon enough, by his seventeenth birthday, well he had had enough. His first attempt at suicide came on that very day. Another year older, another year of suffering, another year of only seeing how shitty this world truly was. Flik was tired, tired of it all- and upon having woken this morning he had a mind set to end it. He had the items to do it, he had for at least a week now- set here in the bathroom, behind the mirror in the medicine cabinent but he just hadn’t had the guts to do it. Why not though now? He wondered this to himself. Why couldn’t he just end it? What was there to live for? More abuse, more horrible people to make his life miserable day in and day out? Nobody would notice, or care, and today on his birthday he decided that this was his last. The bottle of cheap vodka and the shaving razor was removed from the cabinent, the glass shut after; Flik’s tear filled amber eyes catching a blurred glimpse of his broken reflection. He choked back a sob, his head lowering, a few wisps of his dark hair falling across his pale forehead. This isn’t how he wanted it to be…no, he had this all planned out differently in his mind. Funny how life is though isn’t it? His hands shook, his right holding onto the sharp metal while his left clutched to the half empty bottle. His legs were shaking, as was his breathing; as a matter of fact, his entire self was. Tears spilt from his eyes with every blink now, the soles of his feet feeling sweaty on the linoleum he stood on. He was so alone, so unwanted- and listening to the sounds of himself in this nothingness pushed him that last inch towards suicide. He fell- his breathing being let out in a audible sob, his body trembling with it, his knees buckling as he fell to them with a loud smack against the linoleum. The sobs were coming with each breath now, his eyes blinded by the burning tears, his throat tight and constricting his airway. He hated this…nobody cared, everybody did hate him and all he could wonder now is what he had done wrong? Sure, he was a faggot, he was born to a family of Nazi’s, but did that really define who he was? Couldn’t he be his own person still? Couldn’t somebody see something in him? Apparently not. So moments later he was taking gulp after gulp from the vodka; coughing on it as his body rebelled, but it never stopped him. Once the bottle had been emptied too it was thrown across the room only to hit the door with a loud sound, but never break. It rolled back across the linoleum towards Flik and paused near his knees. Life just couldn’t get any worse…it really couldn’t- and hopefully there was something after life too that would be better than this. Peace at least- no hell, for Flik felt he had already been through it once. With his shaky, delicate fingers, he rose up the razor to his right wrist which had its hand balled up into a tight fist. With another audible sob being given, Flik dug the blade into the pale skin on his under arm- trying to hit the blue vein that had been visible there. Blood immediately rose up from his new incision, gathering around the blade, trickling down his arm only to pool on the linoleum and run every which way through the cracks in it. The cut had hit the vein, and one was all it took. The razor was dropped, lost to the dark pool that was slowly gathering around him. Flik watched through his tears as the vital fluid left him like never before- his vision narrowing, fuzzing over then darkening as his body struggled. His body slumped, his back to the cold wall near the tub, his head rolling back and his mouth gaping as he took in deep breathes- his last breathes. His arms slumped at his sides and his breathes soon were fading. He felt cold, he felt numb, he felt the world fading out around him and he was scared. His fingers curled in and his clouded eyes struggled to remain open- though that was seemingly just another battle he lost. They fluttered for a moment, but soon had closed, spilling a last set of tears. There was no more pain for him, not for now. Flik of course had been found by the landlord luckily on that memorable day- and the woman had immediately called for an ambulance. Flik was of course saved- stitched and sent home the very next day to a cleaned, empty apartment. Doing what he had had really gotten him nowhere, he realized that now, but there would be other times. He already had it planned. There was no true reason for him to be here still, not yet at least. a month passed after his birthday, and the end of school time neared. Flik was still alone, and more suicide attempts had been given though none had been as nearly successful as the one on his birthday. His arms were tattered and torn, scarred and hidden as were most things about Flik now from the outside world. School work was neglected, soccer was soon un-interesting as well- and on his home one day from another pointless day he readied himself for another attempt at ending this nonsense. However, it was on that very day that the lost German was found- found in more than one way by somebody who gave a damn. Somebody who gave him a reason to try, a reason to breathe, somebody who turned everything all around and swooped Flik off his feet. His name was Dante Le Trique.

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