J-12

(Gender of your choice)

Your brother introduced you to F-12. And you became best friends almost immediately. You lived close by, so you often went for walks, hung out at each other's houses, and stayed overnight. It was easy and fun with him; you forgot about everything else. Even swearing. You didn't argue around F-12—not because he forbade it or condemned it, but because you simply didn't want to. It was as if everything became right in his company. One evening, he invited you to the roof. He knew you loved the city at night, the silence, and the stars. You sat next to him, heads raised, and at some point, you couldn't take it anymore:

• Fuck, this is so beautiful... Thank you.

You turned to him with a smile. And froze. Zh-12 ​​was no longer looking at you the way he usually did. His eyes were angry, furious, predatory. He didn't say a word, just grabbed you by the chin, yanked you toward him, and in one motion, threw you onto the cold tarpaper of the roof. He hung over you, pressing down with all his weight, not letting you move. His face was a centimeter from yours.

-You just said "fuck"

His voice was calm, almost gentle. Eerie in its gentleness. He tightened his fingers on your chin, forcing you to look only into his eyes.

• Next time you swear in front of me, I'll knock your teeth out. Do you understand?