Prologue

We live in a world where there are persistent rumours of the existence of dragons, witches, dwarves, orcs and the like. No one Lasse met had ever been eye to eye with any of those creatures, and trust me, ever since the boy heard the first tales, he had asked a lot of people if they ever saw one. While he certainly didn't want to meet a troll, nor an old evil queen mother in person, he wanted to at least know if what he had been told was true.

The story teller, whether it had been his mum or his dad, always insisted their stories were true, and if not they'd be struck by lightning. Now, people could be struck by lightning, as could houses, Lasse knew that much. He had once witnessed a ball lightning strike down into a house in the otherwise quiet and peaceful residential neighbourhood he lived in. The house caught fire and the fire department, an ambulance and a police car had arrived with lights and loud wailing sirens.

The sirens had attracted all of the kids in the neighbourhood and quite a few adults too. Lasse was the only one to see the lightning strike down and enter the house through a vent in the roof. It took the top of the vent right off before it began bouncing around the house like one of the creatures his dad had told him about. Lasse's father had called it a poltergeist, but essentially it was just a pissed off ghost.

What had entered the house that day was no ghost, it was just an act of nature which was okay to be scared of, but not to a point where you couldn't think of anything else. Lasse's dad agreed to what the policeman had told Lasse, when he tucked in his son later that night. Lasse had told the policeman everything that had happened that day, right from when he had left his house and all the way up to when he had seen the lightning knock off the vent and enter the poor house.

Well, Lasse wasn't afraid of the same thing happening to his house anyway, there was no vent on his roof where a lightning could sneak in through. There was only the chimney, but save for Santa Claus, Lasse had never heard of anyone or anything entering a house that way. Lasse wasn't even sure if Santa Claus was real or not. No one had ever seen him, either. Then again, Lasse had never thought a lightning could knock off the top of a vent, and that he had seen with his own two eyes.

That Lasse had seen the ball lightning, and been interviewed by a policeman regarding it, no less, had made him interesting in the eyes of kids who normally wouldn't ever talk to him. They'd talk about Lasse, but not to him. For a very brief period of time, Lasse was popular, but like all good things, it didn't take long before the lightning was forgotten by everyone else and he went back to simply being known as the Cripple.

Lasse didn't think of himself as being crippled or handicapped, it wasn't as if he was missing a leg or an arm. But even he couldn't help but notice the 10 cm [c. 4"] long scar on his chest whenever he stood bare-chested in front of the mirror in his bathroom. Which was why he almost never stood bare-chested in front of any mirrors. And every single time the rest of his school class had sports, he was reminded of his disability since he couldn't do sports, according to his mum. Instead, Lasse would go to the school library for the duration of the sports class and study on his own.

Lasse had been five years old the first time he was taken to hospital due to his sickness. He had been playing footy with the rest of the kids in the introduction class, when all of a sudden he had fallen to the ground clutching his chest. The ambulance crew gave him oxygen and rushed him to the local hospital. Not an hour later, he was taken to the university hospital in the capitol. The small five year-old had watched ambulances zip past his parents' car, sometimes escorted by police motorcycles, and he had found it very exciting.

When he was in the back of the ambulance, not fully understanding what the big issue was, he wasn't excited. The ambulance was jam-packed with people, a nurse and a doctor was with him and the normal ambulance crew sat in front and drove like maniacs. The oxygen mask made it hard for him to answer the doctor's questions and the needle stuck into the top of his right hand still hurt him. The doctor didn't make things any better as he was firmly pushing something into Lasse's chest right at his sternum while he looked at a monitor that made strange noises every time Lasse's heart pumped.

The nurse was on the phone talking to Lasse's mum and explained he was being rushed to the university hospital and taken straight to the Children's Intensive Care unit and that she should go there instead of the local hospital.

The doctor's reassurances of everything being fine didn't make Lasse feel any better. If everything was fine, why was he whisked to a hospital in the big city, where his grandparents lived, in an ambulance being escorted by two policemen on motorbikes? The sounds of the siren could be heard on top of all the other noises, it was like the ambulance cried for him. At times, he heard the sirens from the police bikes too, they sounded different than the ambulance siren, higher pitched wailing rather than the low-pitched moaning of the ambulance.

Before Lasse knew it, he was being wheeled into an elevator that felt even more packed than the ambulance had been. When the elevator reached the right floor, he was wheeled into a room where he was gently picked up from the gurney and placed on a bed. The doctor pushed the strange thing back onto his chest and the strange monitor went back to sounding like it had been submerged in water.

"We can't wait for the parents to arrive, we need to operate right now," was the last thing Lasse could clearly remember from that day. He had a vague memory, almost like a dream, of a nurse or maybe a lady doctor replacing his oxygen mask for another mask and telling him to take slow deep breaths.

Ever since that day, Lasse had been known as the cripple. The small poor boy who dramatically fell over on the football field just when he had been passed the ball.

Chapter 1

"Mum, I'm not a special needs kid!" Lasse said heatedly when his mum reminded him, again, to tell his teacher of the mail she had sent.

Lasse was now ten years old and it was the start of a new school year. In fact, it was the morning of the very first day of school after a long and fairly boring summer for Lasse.

"No, you're not a special needs kid and you should be grateful for that. However, you do have a heart condition."

"That doesn't mean I can't be in sports."

"Do we have to discuss this again? Remember what the doctor told you? He said that you're not to stress yourself. It's a fact. I was there with you."

"He only said to make sure my heart rate won't get too high and to listen to my body. I can do that while having sports."

"I know what it's like being a child. If someone passes you a ball again and you have to run fast to get to it, you'll forget everything other than the ball."

"Mum! Listen to me, I can take care of myself. If I don't even try it, how will I ever know if I can or not?"

"I've signed you up for the new physical team at the hospital. You can test yourself there and know there are skilled professionals who can help you if something happens. Just like you've done the past four and a half years."

"That's hardly sports! All we ever do there is use exercise equipment. I want to be on a team. Footy!"

"That won't happen, Lasse. Now, get out of the car and go to class. I have to go to work."

"Argh mum!"

"Don't argh mum me. Go on, and don't forget to tell Mrs Lawson about my mail. I'm sure she read it, but she hasn't responded to it."

Lasse exited the car and shut the door much harder than was necessary before he began walking to the school entrance without looking back. He sighed.

Another year of being the poor cripple. I'm not a cripple! I just can't run for very long.

While Lasse was at school something happened that would forever change his life. He didn't know it at the time, neither did the other part involved.

***

"The house looks worse than it really is. Sure, the lightning took out all of the electric wiring and some minor fires broke out, but it's mostly looks. The structural integrity and the foundation never suffered from it. The rewiring means a lot of the drywalls will have to come down, but they were damaged by the water when the fire department put out the fire anyway," the good-looking female realtor had flirtingly told Jim.

Jim wasn't stupid however and had hired a building inspector to go through the house before he signed the documents and told the bank to transfer the down payment to the real estate agency. That had been two weeks ago and he had now been given the keys for the house and had begun tearing into the wall between the lounge and the kitchen.

"Well, if I had known the building inspector was related to the realtor, I would've walked away from this heap of junk. It would likely cost less to tear it all down and build a new house," Jim said to himself while he tore out yet another very small section of what the realtor and the inspector had said was drywall.

It wasn't drywall, not by Jim's definition. It was lath and plaster, and the two years that had passed since the lightning had hit the house hadn't been merciful to it. As far as Jim could tell, water had gotten into the plaster and went right through it into the lath. The lath had started rotting and the plaster was mouldy. Jim wasn't sure whether it was the mouldy plaster or the rotting lath that made the walls bulge out but he was certain of one thing.

All of it has to come down and it's far too much work for a single guy even if I am a good handyman. I won't be moving in until two or three years from now if I have to do it all myself. I have a full-time job I have to deal with too.

Another two or three years living at home with his parents wasn't what Jim wished for. It had been hard work saving enough money for a house of his own. It wasn't the first house he had saved for either. The woman, Jim had met, whose name was never to be mentioned while he was around, had turned out to be a walking nightmare. Instead of being his future loving wife and doting mother of his children, she had turned out to be a gold digger. Fortunately Jim had found out long before he ever thought of proposing to her.

Still it was too late. We had bought a house and I had almost finished completely restoring it too. Oh well, nothing good has ever come out of crying over spilled milk. That money's gone and so's the bitch, but I got away from her with the skin on my nose. If only the bloody 'drywall' was gone too! I just can't stand living at home anymore!

"Christ! I need help."

Jim had rented a large dumpster, it had been delivered early the same morning and sat in the street just outside the little gate to the garden. The first thing he had done was to take the gate off its hinges to make room for a wheelbarrow to fit through. That was when he thought it was just plasterboards he had to tear off the walls and get into the dumpster.

I have to call the rental company and tell them I need to extend the lease period and have another dumpster put in its place when they come to collect it. There's no way in hell all of this crap will fit into just the one dumpster.

Jim was on day one of his three weeks long summer vacation. He had fully expected it to be enough time to not only tear down the plasterboards, that had turned out to be anything but, and the fried wirings, but also to install new wiring and put up new plasterboards in most of the downstairs level of the three bedroom house he had bought. It had seemed like a bargain, not exactly his dream home, but in due time he could make it his dream come true.

At this rate however, I'll need to spend all three weeks of my vacation just tearing stuff down, then it'll be another three weeks to erect the frames for the walls. Then a week of putting in the new wiring and another week to put up the plasterboards. That's two months! If I had two months to work full time on the restoration. And then I'll still have to put up wallpaper and move furniture in.

"Crap!" Jim swore out loud.

He fished out his smartphone from the thigh pocket in his old worn work trousers. He swore again when he checked his bank account. There was hardly any money left in it. The down payment had made a huge impact on his available funds. With the added expenses for renting the dumpster for a longer time, there was only about enough money left to buy the materials he needed for rebuilding the ground floor of the house.

In order to rebuild anything, I'll first have to get the heap of junk out of the house. It won't walk into the dumpster on its own.

He sighed and used his smartphone to locate a demolition/building company. He had to ring three companies before he found one that would take on the job of tearing out the old walls on short notice and when he explained how he'd want to help with the demolition to keep the cost down, they told him to keep searching. It was another three calls until he found someone who accepted the job. It wasn't a local company and they demanded compensation for the transportation too.

"Fine, I accept. What time can you be here tomorrow?"

"I can have my team in there this morning. They'll work until 3 PM."

"Oh? Well, that's great news! Don't you have to assess what needs to be done first?"

"It's just old lath and plaster and a little framing that needs to come down and new studs installed? I have three guys sitting here doing nothing but drain my pockets. Send me a couple of pictures, so they'll know what they're getting into. You said something about mould and rot, I'll make sure they have the required protection gear for it. You wanted to work alongside my crew right?"

"Yes, I can at least walk a wheelbarrow back and forth. I'll do pretty much anything to speed up the process."

"It may not be needed, but I'll make sure they'll bring gear for you as well. My crew should be at your house in less than two hours."

Jim took five pictures of the walls and sent them to the owner of the demolition company, then he sat on the top one of the two steps in front of his house. He sat for all of two minutes and then resumed working. When the crew showed up, he was still hard at work, yet the dumpster was quite empty. This changed when the three men began working after gearing up.

Chapter 2

When the crew left precisely at 15:00, the dumpster was full of plaster and lath. Though Jim had thought it impossible, all of the old walls from the ground level was now inside the dumpster along with most of the old timber framing that had started rotting too. Jim swept his pathway free from the stuff that had fallen from the wheelbarrows onto the tiles, while he sang out loud. Quite loudly too.

"When your legs don't work like they used to before, and I can't sweep…" Jim pushed harder on the broom handle when he sang the word 'sweep', "…you off of your feet, will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?"

Lasse had returned from school on the bus and decided to go on a slow walk around the neighbourhood and that was when he saw the dumpster in front of the abandoned house that had been struck by lightning. He approached it slowly, very curious yet also cautious. He could clearly hear the singing, but couldn't hear any music. And the words he heard didn't make much sense to him at all.

How can love have a taste? And how would a mouth be able to remember it?

He approached more slowly now, he was getting close, very close. Two more steps and he'd be visible from the garden. He slowed right down to a halt. And he listened to the bad singing and the strange lyrics coming from just behind the tall wildly growing hedge.

"Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks? … And darling I will be loving you 'til we're seventy, and baby my heart could still fall as hard at 23, and I'm thinking 'bout how…" Jim sang without knowing he was being eavesdropped upon.

"Mister!" Lasse said quite loudly, louder than he had wanted to, but what he had just heard was wrong. Dead wrong! He quickly walked to where he could both be seen and look into the garden of the house that he had seen being ravaged by a ball lightning.

"What? Oh, hi there."

"Hi. Sorry, but a heart can't fall. It would sorta make sense if you sang it could still pound as hard, not fall."

"Eh? Uh, I guess you're right, but you see, I haven't written the song. I'm just singing it."

"Oh."

"Yeah, want to hear the real version? I'm afraid I'm not a very good singer, but I have it on the stereo in my car."

"I'm not allowed to get into cars belonging to people I don't know," Lasse said without hesitation.

"That's an excellent advice. But, I didn't ask you to get into my car. Just stay where you are, you'll hear it just fine from there," Jim said and quickly unlocked his car before turning on the stereo. The song was easy to find as it had been playing when he had stopped the engine. All he had to do was restart the song which is what he did.

With the car door open, Lasse had no problems listening to the song, this time with music. In fact, he would likely have been able to hear it just fine even with the door shut. When Jim listened to music, he listened to it loud. As loud as the speakers in his car could go without distorting the music.

"It does sound better, but it's still wrong!" Lasse shouted as to be heard through the cascade of sound waves blasting out of the open car door.

"Pardon?" Jim asked after turning down the volume.

"It sounds a lot better with music, but the words are still wrong."

♫ I'm thinking out loud, maybe we found love right where we are…♫ Lasse heard the lyrics from the song but paid them no mind. It was more important for him to make the man understand how a heart worked so he wouldn't worry about it somehow falling into his stomach or something.

"I still don't get what you think is wrong about the song?" Jim said after he had turned off the stereo and shut the car door.

"The thing about falling hearts. Hearts can't fall, they're set in place. They can pound harder, or stop all together, but they can't fall," Lasse explained carefully.

"And what makes you such an expert on hearts?" Jim asked.

"I just am!" Lasse said angrily, turned on the spot and began running to get as quickly away from the strange man as he could, while he yelled over his shoulder, "I had open heart surgery!"

"Hey, kid! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Jim said loudly when he saw the little boy run away from him.

Lasse didn't stop, he just kept running while he thought.

Stupid song with the words all messed up and that stupid man. All grownups are fucking stupid and won't listen to kids. Why did I even talk to him? It's not like he had any kids with him. And if he had, they'd only be calling me cripple like everyone else. I'm not a cripple, I can run like the wind.

Jim was still standing at his car watching the little boy running like mad, with legs pumping up and down so quickly he almost couldn't tell whether one foot was on the ground or up in the air, when he saw the kid suddenly veer to the right and topple over on a small patch of grass.

Oh shit!

"Hey, kid? Are you okay? Is this some kind of trick you're pulling on me?" Jim shouted.

When there was no reply, he started walking, quicker and quicker until he ran as fast as the boy had. It didn't take him long to get to the still immobile boy lying face down on the grass.

"Kid? Are you okay?"

Lasse heard the question but couldn't answer. He was much too winded for that and he was trying to reach for his all-important nitro spray. It was in his pocket, he knew that, but somehow he just couldn't figure out how to get his fingers into the pocket to retrieve the small spray.

"Wait, let me help you. Do you need something from that pocket?" Jim asked and when Lasse frantically nodded his head, he quickly turned the boy over to lie on his side so he could push his hand into the kid's pocket. He figured it had to be an asthma inhalator, the boy sounded like he was suffering from a bad asthmatic attack.

This is not an inhalator. Not like one I've ever seen anyway. Jim thought when he looked at the small white spray he had pulled out of the boy's pocket. It had a red ring on it. He quickly read the label and saw the instructions for it.

"Push 1 or 2 doses under the tongue. Is this yours, kid? It says it's meant to be kept out of reach of children."

Lasse groaned and nodded again, lifted up his hand and held up two fingers. It felt like someone had him in a wrestler's grip, one where the wrestler was squeezing so hard on his chest so he couldn't breathe. When the man popped the cap off of the spray, Lasse popped his mouth open and pushed his tongue up against the roof of his mouth.

"Two pushes? Okay. I hope this works, kid," Jim said and aimed the spray at Lasse's open mouth and pushed the top of the spray, "Oh, shit! Sorry, kid."

When the medicine didn't get into Lasse's mouth but instead sprayed all over his lower face, he reached up and pulled Jim's hand so close to his mouth that Jim could feel the warmth and moisture from the rapid breathing on his fingers. With the spray almost all the way into the kid's mouth, Jim quickly pushed twice on the top sending two doses directly in under the tongue.

Lasse let go of the man's hand and let his arms fall to the ground. He was still gasping for air, but already he could feel the constricting bands around his chest loosen up a little. He knew he'd be getting one hell of a headache from the nitro, but that would be far better than dying, which was what he had felt like. Little by little his breathing returned to normal while his pumping heart slowed down and more efficiently circulated the blood in his body.

"Thanks, Mister. I'm sorry you had to see that," he said sheepishly.

"What happened?" Jim asked, now worried of the boy's rapidly reddening face.

"My heart. It's all stuffed up. It can't pump as much blood as normal hearts."

"So when you run off like you just did, this is what happens?"

"Pretty much, Mister. That's why I'm known as the cripple," Lasse said sadly.

"My name is Jim, not Mister. And I'm sure your real name isn't Cripple."

"I'm Lasse. But everybody just calls me cripple."

"I won't call you that. Lasse sounds so much better."

"Thanks. Uh, I better go home now before my headache gets any worse."

"Did you hurt your head when you fell?"

"No, it's the nitro that does it. It also makes my face go all red."

"Are you sure you're okay to walk? How far do you live? I can give you a ride home."

"Can't do that. I'm not allowed to get into strangers' cars. 'Sides, it's not too far. I can easily walk."

"I'll walk you home. I can't just let you go off like that, what if it'll happen again and there's no one to help you?"

"Uhm, it has never happened twice in one day and normally I can suck on my spray on my own. I'll be fine really."

"If you won't let me walk with you, I'll follow you all the way home. I want to make certain you're getting home safely."

"Are you a pedo, Mister Jim?"

"What? No, of course I'm not. And my name is only Jim. Not Mister."

"I guess you can walk me home then. It would look weird if you'd be following me. People might think you for a pedo."

"We can't let that happen. I'm not a child molester. If I was, I could have dragged you back to my house when you were too out of it to do anything to prevent it."

"It would have been kind of cool if you were a pedo," Lasse mumbled mostly to himself.

"Why so?"

"It's just that they told us about them at school and I'm not sure if I believe what they said, 's all."

"I think it's safe to assume they know what they're talking about. Was it a policeman who told you?"

"Nah, was just my teacher. It just sounds like a fairy tale to me. You know, one where evil men snatches up innocent children and does bad things to them. Then a knight comes save the kid and the evil men are punished. It sounds like pedos are pretty much the same as trolls or orcs to me."

"It's no tale, though the knight would probably be a policeman. It does happen."

"How do you know, have you ever seen a pedo?"

"Not personally. I've seen them on the news and on news sites."

"Pssh, the news are all fake."

"Who told you that?"

"President Trump says so."

"You'd rather believe in what he says than the news? Have you met Trump?"

"Well, no," Lasse said, "But he's like the president of America. You don't become a president without telling the truth."

"Hmm," Jim thought for a moment before he continued, "If I were you, I wouldn't listen too much to what Mr Trump says. He's a dangerous man."

"How so? He was talking about making America great again and all that. It sounds good to me. I wish someone in our country would do the same. Or, at least make my school great again."

"You don't like school?"

"School's okay, I guess. It's more the kids I don't like."

"Because of the stuff they call you?"

"'Xactly. It's not my fault I have a stuffed up heart. And it isn't like I need lots of reminders all the time. The pills I have to swallow are kind of hard to ignore. Some of them are real big ones."

"I'm sorry," Jim said, his voice full of compassion.

"It's not your fault either. It's no one's fault. Just an act of nature."

"When did you hear that expression?" Jim asked. The words of wisdom sounded strange coming from a small prepubescent boy whose voice was still high-pitched like a girls and slightly raspy, like he was out of breath, though they walked kind of too slow for Jim's liking. Even so, he deliberately slowed down even more.

"A policeman told me so after I had seen the lightning strike into your house. It is your house now, right?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. You actually saw when the lightning struck it?"

"Yup. It was totally like a big flash of blueish light and a huge explosion. It made my ears ring for days after. It took off one of the vents and kind of leaped inside the house where it sizzled and looked like it jumped from room to room before it finally just kind of disappeared. I dunno where it went, maybe it's still trapped inside?"

"I sure hope it isn't. Most likely it went into the ground through the wiring. That's why I now have to replace all of it, including all the outlets and the circuit breaker box. But, I guess it only means I can place the outlets where I want them to be."

"That's a good thing, I s'pose. We don't have to walk so slowly, if you don't want to."

"I don't mind walking slowly, not when I can talk to you."

Lasse looked up at Jim and flashed a small and rare smile at him.

"I like talking to you, you don't treat me like a kid. But, this is it, it's my house here. Want to come in and see my room?"

"Uh, I have to say no to that. I only walked with you to make sure you'd get home safely. I have to get back and finish cleaning. Tomorrow we're going to start installing the new timber frames I ordered today and I want to make sure all of the rot and mould has been dealt with before then."

"Okay. Thanks for… you know, everything," Lasse had nearly thanked Jim for saving his life but had suddenly felt the pangs of bashfulness. It didn't seem right to only say thanks for something so big.

"You're welcome. Any time, kid. If you ever need me again, you know where I live."

"And now you know where I live. Bye, Jim."

"Bye, Lasse. Take care now, you hear?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be fine. I'll just take half a Paracetamol and the headache will go away."

It was almost like neither of the two, man and boy, wanted to part. They had said their goodbyes, still they discussed the effects of various painkillers and whether or not it was okay to take them. Eventually, Lasse had to pee and that was something he couldn't postpone for any longer. He had to enter his house, though he was a bit sad when Jim still didn't want to come in with him.

"It just wouldn't be right. I'm a grown man, Lasse. And your parents aren't home," Jim told him.

"Okay then. See you?"

"Yes, I'm sure we'll meet again some other time. Now, go on before you wet yourself. You've had enough accidents for one day."

"It wasn't an accident, not really. It was…"

"Scoot, kid. I really do have to get back now. I never even locked the house or my car. Oh, crap! I've left the keys in the ignition. Bye, Lasse. It has truly been a pleasure meeting you."

"Bye," Lasse said. Though it felt like he was about to wet himself he still waited until Jim went round the corner at the end of the street before he entered his empty house.

Chapter 3

Since Lasse didn't have any homework due for the next day, he powered up his Xbox after having a pee and half of a paracetamol pill. He munched on a fruit biscuit while he waited for FIFA '17 to load. What he couldn't do in real life, he could on the Xbox. His ranking was high enough to make him a desired opponent for many people though he never communicated with anyone while online. He didn't like how his voice sounded when he spoke English, which was the only foreign language he could speak, though far from fluently.

Instead, Lasse let his fingers do all of the talking. All he was interested in while playing was to steal the ball from the opposing team and get it into the goal. In his mind, the small players on the screen were real and he could almost feel how his body worked hard to outrun them. For an hour every day, which was all the time his mum would allow him to play his Xbox, Lasse was a football player with a heart that didn't let him down in the most embarrassing of ways.

Lasse wanted to play for longer and his ranking would've been higher for sure, if only he had been able to. Unfortunately, after his mum having nagged him one time too often, his dad had placed a restriction on the Wi-Fi router only allowing him to play from 16:30 to 17:30. So far, Lasse hadn't been able to find a way around the restriction.

When the router most rudely just cut off the access to the online server and the dreaded message of the connection having been lost, Lasse sighed and powered off the now useless Xbox. He went to the kitchen and got another snack while he waited for his mum to arrive home from work. He didn't have to wait long before he heard her car pull into the driveway.

"I don't like it when you eat snacks so close to dinner time, you'll spoil your appetite," his mum told him when she entered the kitchen.

"I was hungry. Still am," Lasse said and shrugged indifferently.

"How was your day? Did you use the nitro again?" She asked when she noticed the remaining half pill laying on the counter next to an empty water glass.

"Yes, mum," Lasse sighed dramatically, "I tried to run and had to use it."

"At school?"

"No, after. When I went on my afternoon walk."

"Oh, dear. I thought we had agreed that you'd keep it to walking. You're only to run if it's an emergency and when you're exercising at the hospital."

"It was kind of an emergen… Uh, never mind. I'll try to keep from running again."

"Are you hiding something from me? Lasse, tell me what happened."

"I got mad at someone and ran. I ran for 200 yards and then my stupid useless heart decided to cut out."

"Your heart isn't useless. It just can't keep up with the rest of your body when you strain it. See, this is exactly why I won't let you have sports in school. When you get mad or lose focus on your body, you try to do more than you can."

"Why couldn't they just put in a new heart back then instead of trying to fix what couldn't really be fixed? It's no use only having 30% EF [Normal Ejection Fraction (EF) or heart efficiency is around 50-75%]."

"You were fortunately not sick enough for a heart transplantation. They replaced one of your heart valves and rebuilt the weakened wall between the chambers, so they did fix a lot. With the right medicine and care you'll be just fine."

"I'm not fine, though. I can't run around like other kids. I haven't done that since I was five. I can't even remember what it was like, not anymore."

"Lasse! Snap out of it. Instead of focusing of what you cannot do, think of what you can do. You still have full control over your body, unlike some of the unfortunate kids on the physical team at the hospital. Imagine what it would be like to suffer from paralysis and not being able to use your legs like that little girl, what was her name?"

"What little girl? Hanne?"

"Yes, Hanne. I hope she'll be on the new team too. You two seemed to have become very good friends just before the break for summer."

"Mum! We only talked because everyone at our schools calls us cripples. It's like the only thing we had in common."

"You sure seemed to be getting along very well. Every time I picked you up I thought you'd tell me you had a new girlfriend. But, they still call you cripple at your school? I'll have to talk to that headmaster again."

"No, please don't. The last time she assembled the entire school and we had to sit and listen to stories of how bad it was to be bullied. It only made it worse! And I don't want a girlfriend. I'm only ten, mum."

"I had a boyfriend in kindergarten. I seem to remember you having a girlfriend in kindergarten too, now that I think of it."

"Aw, mum. It was only for five days!"

"Oh? Oh yes, she dumped you for Christian. You were so heartbroken. You wouldn't stop crying until I bribed you with an ice cream."

Lasse's face turned red once more that day, only this time it was from embarrassment rather than the side effect of his nitro spray.

"Do you want my help cooking dinner or are you only going to keep embarrassing me? If it's the last, I'd rather go do something else," he asked.

"If you'll peel some carrots and shred them, I'll chop the onion."

"Are we having what I'm thinking?"

"Yes. Meatball pasta."

"Can I smash up the crackers?"

"Sure."

***

Jim had returned to find his car sitting in the street, just in front of the dumpster, with his keys still in the ignition. He went inside the house through the open door and found everything exactly like he had left it. He picked up the larger bits of plaster and swept the floors one more time before he went back to his car and drove to his parents' house. He was about to go to sleep when he thought of Lasse for the first time after leaving him.

I wonder if his face is still red and if he's alright now. He seemed to be much better when I left him. I wonder if he'll come by tomorrow after school, he seemed like a good kid who needs a friend. Hah, what am I on about? I'm three times as old as him and he wouldn't be interested in befriending an old fart like me. We have nothing in common.

Jim fell asleep worrying over his newly purchased dump of a house rather than the small boy with a heart condition. He only woke the next morning when his mother walked into his bedroom.

"It's time to get up, Jimmy. Breakfast is ready," she announced just like she had always done when Jim was growing up.

"Mam, my name is Jim! I'm not eight years old anymore. I can get up on my own," Jim groaned, but his mother just went and pulled open the curtains letting in the harsh light from the late-summer morning sun.

"If you could, you wouldn't still be in your bed. It's almost 7:30. I know it's your vacation and all, but don't you have a house you need to get sorted? When will you invite us over to see it?"

"When it's all ready. It's kind of a mess now."

Not any time soon, that's for sure. Then the old man would just be all over me for having bought a ruin. Right now it's pretty much only the outer walls holding up a leaky roof.

"Did you say seven thirty? For Pete's sake I'm supposed to be at the house at eight o'clock sharp. I won't have time to eat breakfast today."

"I boiled eggs and made bacon for you."

"Thanks, but with the morning traffic, it'll be at least half an hour's drive. I have to get going."

"While you get dressed, I'll make you a couple of sandwiches. I'm not about to send you out the door without something to eat."

"Thanks, mam."

***

Lasse was already up. He had awakened at 6:59, one minute before his clock radio would've announced that the time for sleeping was over. He had went through his solitary morning business in the bathroom across the hall from his bedroom, a quick poo, then a shower followed closely by a brisk rub down with his towel and a mostly successful comb down of his faded hairdo. One cursory brushing of his teeth later and he had finished.

He put on the rest of his clothes in his bedroom and went to the kitchen. As per usual, his dad had already left for work so it was only him and his mum who ate breakfast before she dumped him off outside the school entrance. He made it all the way to his classroom without anyone calling him a cripple, a stunt only pulled off by him walking so close to the walls it was like he wanted to be a part of them. He sat down on his chair and dropped his schoolbag next to it, all ready to learn.

***

Meanwhile, Jim had just entered the sleepy neighbourhood in his car. The stereo for once wasn't playing loud music, as he was busy explaining the leader of the work crew that he'd arrive in mere minutes. He ended the call and cursed himself for having forgotten to set the alarm so he had overslept that morning.

By 11 o'clock, Jim had not only decided on where to put the partitioning walls on the lower level of his new house, he had also dragged in a lot of framing studs. One member of the crew cut the studs to length and the other two installed them, nearly as quickly as Jim could get them in through the door.

"You should really get the roof fixed before you put in the plasterboards," the one cutting up the timber told Jim.

"Yes, I have thought of it. I think most of it is from the missing vent, but I'll have a closer look after you guys leave today. I'm surprised of how quickly the framing is going up."

At a price of 1000 kroner [c. $150] under the table per hour, I had expected nothing less, but it's still nice to see how the lines we drew on the floor are so quickly turning into framing for the walls and doorways.

***

At 11:20 Lasse made his way to the school cafeteria. This was what he dreaded the most during the school day. The wide hallways were bustling with activity, kids of all ages hurrying to get to the cafeteria so they could quickly buy their lunch and find a place to sit and eat before classes went back in session at 12:00. Lasse couldn't walk as fast as the other kids and always ended up at the end of a long line before he could get his small carton of skimmed milk.

He had often thought of just skipping the milk, but his parents paid for it and he dutifully picked it up every day at the beginning of the lunch break. Whenever the weather was nice, he went outside to eat his packed lunch in some secluded part of the school grounds. There he could sit and watch the lawn where kids soon teamed up and played footy. He wanted to join them, to shout as excitedly as the rest of them when one of them scored a goal or when one made an impressive move.

He daydreamed of how he'd be the one who made a brilliant tackle almost in front of his own goal, then dribbled the ball all the way to the other teams goal. There he'd trick the goalie before he kicked the ball so it sailed through the air and entered the goal right up in the triangle well out of reach. It was a nice dream. Still it was only a dream. He looked at his wristwatch and rose back up on his feet before he walked back to his classroom.

Chapter 4

"Thanks, guys. I can't say how pleased I am of all you've managed to do in little more than a day and a half. If I need help further along I know who to call," Jim said when the crew had packed up their tools and was ready to leave. Nearly all of the timber framing was in place and the timber for the one remaining wall had already been cut to size. He could easily install it by himself.

"You weren't too shabby, yourself. What is it you do for a living?"

"I'm a financial advisor."

"So you sit in an office all day long? That's a waste of talent if you ask me. You should've become a carpenter."

"Well, I'm good at what I do. I only do this to save a bit of money."

"If you ever find yourself between jobs, we're always looking for good builders. Anyway, we had better get going before the traffic picks up. Good luck with the house."

"Thanks."

Jim shut the door after the three men left and he went up the stairs to the upper floor. The master bedroom was up there, along with a smaller bedroom, both of which had sloping walls. There was no bathroom on the upper floor, something Jim wanted to change. It wasn't why he went up there then, he had to find the access hatch to the crawl space so he could assess the state of the small attic with his own eyes. He feared for what he would discover when he pulled on the string to the hatch.

Well this isn't too bad really. The insulation has to come out, but the rafters seem to be in good condition. And one of the vents needs replacing of course. I might as well go buy it all now, the local DIY centre should have all what I need.

***

Lasse sat on the school bus, close to the driver, and saw a car that looked just like Jim's heading in the opposite direction.

That was Jim! I could hear the music when his car passed the bus.

He craned his neck so he could watch the green car and almost missed his stop. He pushed the stop button with only seconds to spare and the bus driver had to step on the brakes and quickly pull over.

"If you ever do that again, I won't stop until the next stop, kid."

"Sorry, Mister," Lasse said sheepishly and quickly got off the bus. He waited until it had pulled back into the street before he crossed it to walk the last 50 yards to his house.

He went inside and locked the door before he pushed off the schoolbag from his shoulders and went for a much needed pee. He had held himself all through the school day, like he had done ever since one day in year two where he had to pee and had entered a stall with an overflowing toilet. The nasty sight and smell from it was something he didn't want to experience ever again. It wasn't easy for him not to pee for eight and a half hours, the diuretic pills he took didn't make it any easier, but he had gotten used to it.

Feeling relieved and much better, Lasse found his afternoon snack and filled a glass with water and brought them to his room along with his schoolbag. That day he had homework to do, it was the second day after the school holiday and all of his teachers had given assignments. It wasn't to be handed in the very next day, but it was just better to spend an hour every day rather than having to sit for several hours bogged down in schoolwork some of the days.

Unfortunately it also meant his afternoon walk that day had to be postponed to an after-dinner walk. It was still warm outside when Lasse walked to Petunia Street where Jim's house was, but Jim's car wasn't parked outside and the house was dark and completely abandoned. Even the large yellow dumpster that had sat in the street was gone. It was as if Jim had never been there.

Lasse sighed. He wasn't sure why he felt disappointed, they had never agreed to meet up that day. Jim had only been polite and said something about looking forward to seeing Lasse again some other time. He clearly hadn't meant the very next day. Still, Lasse kicked at a small piece of plaster lying on the curb before he turned around and walked back home.

***

Jim had been at the DIY centre, it was where he was going when Lasse had spotted him on the bus. There he had looked for insulation and a new vent and since it didn't cost as much as he had anticipated he had bought two of them. They were of a different type and far superior than the old ones. The customer service guy, Jim had talked to, hadn't been able to say whether the vents were lightning proof or not. He hadn't heard of a lightning going through any vent, ever.

If only Lasse was there when he said that. He'd be able to tell him that it is possible. Highly unlikely, but possible.

Jim laughed to himself, when he imagined the small boy lecturing the old arrogant customer service guy, as he drove back to his parents' house with the two new vents in the trunk of his car. It was too late in the day to begin working on the quite steep roof, besides he didn't have a ladder at his new house. He planned to get up much earlier the next day and if he was lucky, he'd manage to get every bit of the roof sorted in one day.

***

When Lasse came home from the school the next day, this being a Wednesday, he was too upset to study. They had sports class, physical education, that morning, a double period of it no less. Well, while Lasse's class had sports, he had been sitting in the school library trying to focus on the assignments given to him by his Danish and History teacher. It was hard to focus since the introduction class, or year 0, was in the library with him and the small kids weren't exactly silent, and their two teachers hushing them all the time wasn't helpful either.

It was however nothing compared to when he returned to his classroom just before the first recess ended at 9:50 am. The other pupils smelled from the showers they had taken after the sports class, and many of them still had wet hair, especially the girls.

"Here comes the cripple. Did you enjoy not having to shower with the rest of us?"

"His heart would only grind to a halt if he saw our toned bodies," a fat kid named Oscar said.

The other kids laughed out loud, though Lasse wasn't sure if it was him or Oscar they laughed at. It didn't matter, anyway. He felt the anger from the unjust ridicule build up inside of him, it was like a steam engine running amok. He had to let some of the anger out, lest he'd explode.

"Shut the fuck up, you wankers!" He cried out in desperation.

For a brief second or two the rest of the class actually did shut up, then the laughter resumed. Lasse could feel his cheeks burn and the tears well up in his eyes and he stormed out of the classroom. He sat on the bench just outside the door and wished he was back at home. He only went back inside the classroom when the teacher arrived, just when the bell rang.

He somehow managed to get through the rest of the school day and when he stood at the bus stop watching the bus pull away from him, he didn't walk the 50 yards that would take him home. At home there wouldn't be anyone or anything that would help him. On Petunia Street, however, lived one person who had been friendly. He owned a house there, anyway, and Lasse sure hoped he'd be there.

***

Jim was at the house, rather he sat on top of it, while Lasse made his way towards it. Jim clung one-handedly to the very last step of the long ladder, he had brought with him, while he carefully worked the last of the two vents in place over the hole in the roof. It was critically important it sat in just the right spot and the right way, or it would be leaking again

If only I had three hands it would make it so much easier. But I can't let go of the ladder. It's one hell of a long way down to the ground from up here. The ladder is 7 metres [23 feet] long. Ah, there we go. Now, stay there for just a second, sucker, and I'll screw you in place.

"Shit!"

The vent slid down on one side just when he pushed the screw into the hole in the flange of the vent. Instead of readjusting it for the fourth time, Jim pushed even harder on the head of the screw hoping it would bite into the wood just enough to keep the one side of the vent in place.

When it's time to have the house reroofed I'm getting rid of these vents. I'll put vents at the top of the gables instead. It'll make the roof much nicer to look at too. For now, I just have to live with what it looks like.

***

Lasse stood at the small gate to the garden and looked up at Jim. What the man was doing looked quite dangerous to the small boy's eyes, he certainly would never have climbed so far up a ladder as Jim had. Not to mention the man only held onto the ladder with one hand and used one of his knees to balance a black mushroom-shaped vent in the middle of a gaping hole in the roof. He was holding a battery-powered drill in his other hand and Lasse heard a low whirring sound.

"Aha! There you go, sucker! Let's see you work yourself free now," Lasse heard Jim say in a rather smug-sounding voice.

Lasse was just about to begin his walk home, clearly Jim was busy and wouldn't want him around, when he heard the man swear from the roof.

"Oh, fuck!"

He looked back up at the man and both saw and heard the power drill slide down the roof panels, hit the gutter with a loud sound and finally landed in the tall grass next to the ladder on the ground.

"Hi Lasse!"

"Hello, Jim," Lasse replied and waved up to the man.

"Uh, can you please fetch the drill for me?"

"Sure," Lasse said and quickly dumped the schoolbag from his shoulders. He went to where he had seen the power drill land and picked it up. The drill bit had gone into the ground and had gotten quite a lot of dirt on it. He brushed it off as well as he could and went to stand at the very end of ladder. Only then did he realize Jim was still up there at the other end of the ladder. Now closer to the man, Lasse could really see just far up he was.

"Jim? Sorry, but I'm not climbing up to you."

"It's perfectly safe. I made sure to fasten it to the gutter and the ground. It won't budge."

"Well, uhm," Lasse started, but couldn't bring himself to continue. He didn't want to admit to being frightened of climbing the ladder, and worse, unable to help Jim.

"Just climb up a couple of steps, I'll meet you about ¾ of the way down. How's that?"

"Okay," Lasse squeaked and hooked the power drill upside-down to his shorts. Fortunately he was wearing a belt with his shorts or the weight of the power drill would've pulled them right down to his ankles. With a heart that thumped somewhat quicker and harder in his chest, he began slowly ascending the leaning ladder. He made it up to the sixth step before he got close enough for Jim to reach for the drill.

"Thanks, kid. How was school?"

"Uh, fine," Lasse said in a voice that told Jim it hadn't been fine at all.

"Ouch! Well, if you want one, there's a bag with sodas just inside the door. I have to head back up and finish installing the vent but it shouldn't take me longer than half an hour."

"Okay. Thanks. Uh, Jim, can I use your bathroom?"

"I'm afraid the current bathroom in this house isn't anything like you've seen before. But yes, the water should still be hooked up to the loo."

Jim smiled at Lasse in a way he hoped signalled reassurance, then went back up the ladder, now holding onto the drill. Lasse went back down the ladder and entered the house. Jim was right in a way, Lasse had never seen such a bathroom before. More specifically, the entire downstairs level of the house was one big room. Though the timber frames for the walls were installed, the 40.5 cm [c. 16"] wide gaps between the studs meant Lasse could see the old kitchen appliances from the front door.

More importantly, he saw the toilet almost dead center in the large room and made a beeline towards it. Instead of walking around the walls, he just squeezed in through the gaps of the timber. He made sure the toilet worked by flushing it and fished out his penis for only the second time that day. He could hear how Jim worked on the roof far above him while he peed into the toilet.

***

Jim screwed the vent in place and secured the roof panels around the vent. It took him almost 45 minutes and not the half an hour he had said, but he could see Lasse was still there. The small kid had found an old plastic garden chair somewhere and sat on it, sipping from a can of Sprite while he watched Jim work.

"So, another rough day at school?" Jim asked when he was safely back on the ground. He sat on the steps to his house with a soda can in his hand and had given Lasse another can of Sprite. Lasse had moved the old chair with him to sit in front of the steps.

"Yeah. Real rough. We had sports class today."

"And it didn't end well? Did you have to suck on your spray again?"

"What? Oh! Nah, I didn't have to take any nitro. I didn't even go to the gymnasium with the other kids. My mum has had me excused from sports ever since… Ever since it happened."

"I know I'm probably not supposed to say this, but I'm going to anyway. I would have loved being excused from sports when I went to school. No, wait, hear me out. I wouldn't want to have to get heart surgery for it to happen, but I sure wasn't the most athletic kid in school."

"Me neither."

"Well, you have a good reason for not being athletic. Me? Heh, I was just a lazy kid and hated the communal showering afterwards. I'll bet you, most of those who call you cripple, they're actually envious of you."

"Envious? What for? Why would anyone want to be like me? Having a stuffed up heart isn't fun!"

"Please, don't get yourself so worked up, Lasse. Of course it isn't fun having a heart condition. But, when you look at yourself in your mirror, what do you see looking back at you? Do you see a poor sick kid or do you see what I see when I look at you now? I see a kid who looks perfectly fine."

"That's only because you can't see inside my body. Or the scar on my chest."

"You have a scar? Oh, yes, silly me. Of course something like that would have to leave a scar."

"I have three. Two very small ones and the big scar. I don't like seeing it myself."

"Because it reminds you of what happened. I bet every time you see it, it makes you remember you have an illness."

"Well, yeah. But I don't get what me having a scar has got to do with kids being mean to me."

"Do they even know you have a scar? Have they ever seen it?"

"No way! That would only make them tease me even more. Or worse yet, feel sorry for me."

"Would that be worse than being picked on every day?"

"I just want to be like everyone else. That way nobody would be able to tease me with anything."

"Oh, trust me on this, Lasse. No matter how incredibly boring and 'just like everyone else' you might be, it wouldn't stop certain people from finding something to poke fun of you for. If it isn't for you being sick, it would be because of your hair or your clothes. Or the way your mam or pop look, what they do for a living, the colour of your bike or house. Anything. By the way, there's nothing wrong with your hair or your clothes, it's just examples."

"So, kids are just mean?"

"Not all kids, but some are downright cruel. Others are simply followers, imitators, bullying others so they won't be bullied themselves."

"Why?"

"I don't know why, I'm not an expert on child psychology or human behaviour."

"That's so typical."

"Sorry, Lasse. Even though I am older than you, it doesn't mean I know everything."

"No, it isn't that. It's just that no matter what I'll do, I won't ever get what I want."

"And what would be exactly?"

"To feel like I'm a part of something, to be on a footy team. To belong somewhere. To NOT be the poor cripple forever."

"Well, you can't stop being ill. You can't just pretend that you don't have a heart condition and that all is fine. Instead, you should maybe embrace it. Like, I don't know, maybe show off your scar. Let people see it and act all cool about it. Remember, it isn't often kids your age have to have heart surgery."

"They'll just get all mushy and sympathetic and stuff. I don't want that either."

"The way I see it, is that you only have two choices. Either you accept being bullied or you try the other approach, which is to gain the sympathy of enough kids to make it uncool for anyone to bully you. There's a third option, I suppose. To take a stand against the bullies, but that would likely require physical strength, which, uhm, which…"

"Which I lack. Yeah, I get it. I tried that today, to make them stop, but I'm a wimp. But it isn't my fault. It's just an…"

"Act of nature. Yes, I know. You know, that exact wording is in most of the contracts I make with people of managing their money? Mostly for liability reasons."

"Liability?"

"Yes. If, for example, a major natural disaster should take place just when my bank is about to sell or buy stocks, then we can't be held accountable for the losses that it might incur on people."

"Hmm. Okay. But it still isn't my fault that I'm a little wimp."

"I don't see you as a wimp. A wimp in my eyes is someone who gives up without even trying. It has nothing to do with being in great health or having big muscles or not."

"Okay," Lasse said and Jim could see how the small boy considered what he had just heard. Jim looked at his watch and noticed the time.

"Lasse, do your parents know where you are?"

"Huh?"

"Do your parents know you're here now?"

"No. I came here right after the school bus dropped me off."

"It's nearly half past 4. I don't mind hanging out with you like this, not at all, but if we're to become friends and such, then you have to tell your parents."

"Tell my mum and dad? Sheesh! Wait, you want to be my friend?"

"Only if you'd want to. Like I told you the other day, I do enjoy our talks."

"Sure! But, do we have to tell my mum and dad?"

"You were the one going on about me being a pervert. No, you used the word pedo. Which I'm still not, but if we start spending time with each other, and your parents were to find out about it, they'd immediately think it strange that neither of us said anything to them about it."

"Uh, it's just that they told me never ever to talk to strangers. And you're a stranger. To them, I mean."

"That only makes it even more imperative that they know about our friendship before they discover it on their own."

"But, how should we tell them? You can't just walk up and ring the doorbell and tell them you're my new friend."

"How about sticking to the truth? That is always the best approach. There is a risk, a fairly big risk, that they'll be angry with you and me both, but it's still better they know."

"They'll just tell me I'm never to speak to you again."

"Maybe and maybe not. You're still their responsibility. You're a minor and have to trust your parents to make the right decisions for you."

"Even when they're not?"

"Yes, even so," Jim said and fished out his wallet, "Here, give your mam my card and ask her to call me. I'll talk to her and explain how we met and such."

Chapter 5

Lasse wasn't at all sure if telling his parents about Jim was the right thing to do. Even so, Jim had made it very clear he wasn't to visit him again without his parents' consent. It was a dilemma for Lasse, on one hand he truly enjoyed hanging out with Jim. The man listened to what Lasse said, something he had only previously experienced with doctors and nurses. And even then, they hadn't always listened. On the other hand, Jim had pulled the "I'm the adult" card two times already. The first time when he insisted on walking Lasse home after the incident and the second time when he told Lasse to have his mum call him.

Lasse clutched Jim's business card in his hand when he walked home and he read it again. It told him Jim's full name was Jim Andersen and that he was a financial advisor, whatever that was, in the First National Bank of Denmark. There was an email address, three telephone numbers, one for Jim's office, one for a fax and one for his cell phone.

"Tell your mam to call me on my cell, I always have it on me," Jim had said.

Finally, there was an address on the card, 10 Silver Street in Copenhagen. It wasn't where Jim lived, it was where the bank's head offices were and where Jim went to work if he wasn't out visiting the bank's branch offices to meet with his clients.

"You better go home now. I want to wrap up here and go home myself. Don't forget to have your mam call me, Lasse!" Jim had said before he helped Lasse put on his schoolbag and sent him off.

Jim's parting words had momentarily annoyed Lasse.

Why does every adult think kids will just forget everything they're told to do?

The first thing Lasse did after entering his house was to grab a snack. He went to his bedroom next and sat on his chair. Though the Wi-Fi router would allow Lasse to play FIFA for another 30 minutes, he didn't power up his Xbox. Instead he looked at Jim's business card one more time before he pulled his books out of the schoolbag.

***

"Why should I call this guy? Even if we had money to invest, which we do not, we'd never consider switching to this bank."

"Mum, he doesn't want you to invest anything. It was just the easiest way for him to give me his number for you to call," Lasse explained.

"But why does he want me to call him then? We don't know him."

"He'll explain everything when you talk to him. Please?"

"Maybe I'll call him. But it'll be later tonight, after dinner. I swear, if this is just some new trick sales people use to get in touch with potential clients, I'll call the watchdogs first thing tomorrow morning."

"It's not like that. Jim just wants a private chat with you."

"Jim? Just how well do you know this man, Lasse?"

"Uh, not real well. I, uh… Just talk to him, please."

"You bet I will. I'll call him right now as a matter of fact. You can peel the potatoes while I'll have a nice chat with this Jim person."

Lasse looked at the pile of potatoes in the sink. It looked as if there were enough potatoes to feed the entire street, not just the small household of three. At least, his mum had picked up the cordless phone and was dialling the number she read off the card. She moved into the lounge, while Lasse attacked the first of many potatoes.

***

"Hello?" Jim said into the phone after picking up. It was an unknown number, but he had a hunch of whom it might be anyway.

"Is this Jim Andersen?"

"Yes. And you'd be…?"

"My name is Hilda Hansen. You gave your card to my son."

"Oh, yes. Mrs Hansen, is it okay if I call you Hilda?"

"No," Hilda said in an angry voice, "I want you to explain to me why you gave your business card to my son. Like I told him, we're not looking for another bank, nor do we have any money to invest in anything."

"Sorry, Mrs Hansen. I'm not at work right now. I want to talk to you about your son."

"What about my son? Did he break anything of yours?" Hilda's voice turned into one full of worry.

"No, no. Not at all. He heard me singing a song and he thought I sang it wrong. I, I must have said something I shouldn't and he ran from me. He didn't make it very far, though."

"Lasse has a heart condition. He knows he's not supposed to run."

"He told me so after I had helped him with the spray. I walked him home when he caught his breath again."

"Well, he made it home safely. Thank you for taking your time to get him home."

"I'd do it if it happens again," Jim took a deep breath before he continued talking, "But, that wasn't why I wanted to talk to you. Lasse has been by my house since then, both yesterday and today. I wasn't there yesterday, but I was today."

"I see. I'll tell him to leave you alone, Mr Andersen."

"No, uh, Mrs Hansen. Sorry, but that's not why I called. This sounds strange, I know, and please don't take this the wrong way, but I feel Lasse could use a friend. He didn't sound happy when he came by today."

"Why, now I've never," Hilda said taking great offense, then after a quick thought, "No, you're right. Sorry, I had, never mind. Yes, Lasse do need friends, but trust me, we have tried, both me and his father. He just isn't interested. He's afraid they'll call him… Names."

"Cripple? Yes, I know about that one. Well, I wanted you to know that I've told Lasse he could come by my house any time he needs someone to talk to. I meant every word I told him, but I wanted to make sure it's okay with you."

"Oh. Uh, I didn't expect this call to be something like this. It's… I don't really know what to say right now."

"I know you must have thousands of thoughts running through your mind right now. But, as I said, I think Lasse needs a friend, someone who he feels he can talk to. Anyway, I'll tell him to go home if he comes by from now on."

"No! Uh, I have to think this through. Can I call you again later?"

"Of course. I'll go to bed at around ten thirty so please don't call any later than that."

"Around nine. I'll talk to Dennis and find out what he thinks of all of this."

"Dennis? Your husband?"

"Yes, and the father of Lasse. Whatever we decide, he needs to be okay with it too. I have to hang up now or Lasse will probably try his luck with cooking dinner all by himself."

"Okay. I'll expect your call at nine. Goodbye, Mrs Hansen."

"Bye, Jim. And thank you for having Lasse tell me to ring you. It means, well… I'll talk to you at nine."

The phone went dead in Jim's hand. Hilda had hung up but he wasn't surprised of that. No, the real surprise was she had actually heard him out instead of just calling him a pervert and telling him to stay well away from her son. Jim didn't have any ulterior motives of wanting to befriend Lasse. He wasn't a paedophile, he didn't envision himself having sex with the small ten years old boy or anyone else, quite frankly.

All Jim genuinely wanted was to have a friendship with someone again. If he could help Lasse while befriending the young boy, he would kill two birds with one stone. When the bitch had told Jim to get out of her house, a house in which he had invested both time and plenty of money, their mutual friends had turned their backs on Jim.

***

Back at the Hansen house, Lasse and his mum, Hilda, cooked dinner. Neither of the two brought up the conversation she had had with Jim, though Lasse found it most difficult not to ask what they had talked about. And what the outcome of it all would be. When Lasse's father, Dennis, arrived home from work, the three sat down at the kitchen dinner table.

"I've had one of the strangest conversations ever, hubby. It seems like our Lasse wasn't completely honest with us about what happened Monday," Hilda said when she passed the dill sauce to Dennis.

"When he had the angina attack? I don't know why you make such a big deal out of it, the doctors have explained it's to be expected and that it isn't dangerous if Lasse just uses his spray. You have it on you all the time, don't you son?"

"Uh-huh," Lasse mumbled and bit off a small piece of the salmon he had speared on his fork. He let the rest fall to his plate.

"There you go, honey, nothing to worry about."

"That's not what I'm worried about, well, not this time. No, the person I talked to was a man who helped Lasse."

"I hope you told him we appreciate his help?"

"I did. But, he told me how he thinks Lasse needs friends. I got the impression he was volunteering for the position."

"Do we know him?"

"No. He works for the First National. The bank."

"Ah, well you can hardly hold that against him, though their fees are some of the highest in the country."

"You don't think it strange a grown man would want to befriend your son? Your only recently-turned-ten-years-old son?"

"I would've loved having someone I could talk to when I was ten. Sure, I could talk to my parents, but it was always so awkward and embarrassing at times. Why don't you invite him over some time so we can get a feel for him before you jump to any conclusions?"

"I swear, you working for the police has changed you. Now you have to investigate every single thing and find all the evidence before you can make up your mind about anything."

"I was at the police academy when we met. It can't have been such a big surprise to you that I'd pursue a career in the force?"

"No, but, I just don't like it. Your work isn't safe. I wish you would've used your plumber's degree and become a plumber instead of joining the police force."

"My work is as safe as it can be. They're making us wear bullet-proof vests and I have a compact 9 mm gun with three reserve clips, pepper spray and the baton. Besides, I work with the airport police now. The most action we ever see are illegal immigrants or smugglers. And the shoplifters. Give this guy a call back and ask him to come meet us. We can always send Lasse to his room if we need to discuss something he shouldn't hear."

"Hey, don't I get any say in it at all?" Lasse asked.

"No. Well, some of it. But we may need to discuss rules and I'm sure you will find that most boring. I'll lift the restrictions on the router for that night, so you can play the football game you like so much."

"Thanks, dad. It isn't just a football game though, it's FIFA! It's the best there is."

"Must be why it cost us 499 kroners then. I thought the console was expensive but it's really the games that drains our pockets."

"I arranged to call him at nine. What shift are you on next week?" Hilda asked.

"The second. From 3 o'clock to 11. See if you have him over for dinner tomorrow or Friday perhaps. If it drags on, we can always kick him out at 11."

"Okay. Don't change out of your uniform before he gets here, maybe he'll get intimidated from it and we can find out his true reasons."

"Jim only wants to be my friend," Lasse said, "I asked him if he was a pedo and he said no."

"Lasse, most people would lie about something like that. I'm a good judge of characters though, I'll see what this guy is all about."

***

"Dinner? Uh, I don't want to impose on your family, Mrs Hansen," Jim said when Hilda invited him over.

"Nonsense, Jim. Please, do call me Hilda."

"Okay. Hilda, I'd like to come over but I have a work-related dinner on Friday which I can't reschedule at such short notice."

"Then come by tomorrow. If it can't be tomorrow, then it'll have to wait for two weeks. Dennis work shifts and the next two weeks he'll be on the second and third shifts."

This is happening way too quickly, Jim thought, but accepted the invitation. Two weeks without seeing Lasse felt like an eternity to him and it would be even worse for the kid. And two weeks was all he had left of his summer vacation.

***

"Mam, I won't be home for dinner tomorrow," Jim told his mother when he went to get ready for bed.

"I thought it was Friday you had to go out?"

"I still am, this is something else that came up."

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to hear those words from you Jimmy. I'm happy you've finally gotten over…"

"Don't go there! It's not like that at all, I'm only having dinner with uh… Some colleagues from work."

"Long as it gets you out of the house. Oh, I didn't mean it like that, but still. You've been cooped up in your old bedroom for so long. It's about time you get out and experience the world. Maybe one of them colleagues you'll be having dinner with will become a friend?"

"I hope so, mam. I do hope so," Jim said. But it's not up to me to decide.

While Jim wasn't proud to be lying to his mother, he didn't feel so bad about it either. She had a habit of prying into things that wasn't any of her concern, possibly only for good reasons, but nonetheless it was annoying. Jim was a grown man, though his potential friend was only a small boy. It was weird enough Jim had to meet Lasse's parents, he didn't need his own parents to know about the friendship too.

It isn't like I've started dating anyone, anyway.

Chapter 6

Jim was every bit as nervous as he had been the first time he had visited the home of the bitch and had to meet her parents, if not even more so. This time, he hadn't spent hours trying on different outfits before he finally decided on the clothes that would make the best first impression. He was wearing his work clothes, he had spent the entire day in his new house running electric wiring from the new breaker box.

I'll have to double-check every single connection tomorrow. I haven't been able to think about anything but dinner with the Hansens. Why am I so nervous anyway? I'm not asking for permission to marry or date Lasse. I only want to be his friend. Like one of those big-brother things. Maybe I should've signed up for that. Oh well, it's too late to back out now. Lasse needs me.

***

"So, how did you and my son meet?" Dennis asked Jim. They sat in the living room, alone. Lasse and his mum were putting the finishing touches on dinner. Supposedly. At first, Jim had thought Hilda had called the police and it was only when Dennis had introduced himself he relaxed. Somewhat at least.

"Well, offi… Sorry, Dennis. Monday afternoon I was working in my garden, I think I was sweeping the pathway and I was singing. Lasse heard me sing and he told me I had gotten the words for the song wrong. I played the song for him and suddenly he ran like he…ck from me. I saw him fall over and went to see if he was okay."

"He told me you helped him with his nitro spray. He experiences mild angina attacks every now and then when he exercises or gets too excited. It's nothing to be afraid of, though it can look bad and certainly doesn't feels nice to Lasse."

"At first I thought he had asthma. But the spray soon told me it was worse than that."

"Between you and me, the boy needs to exercise more. The doctors tried to explain it to Hilda, but she's terrified of Lasse hurting himself. I haven't been able to convince her either and Lasse… Well, his dream is to play football, professionally, and though it's clearly impossible with that heart of his, he won't settle for anything less. When they argue over it, it's like watching the battle of the titans. But, thus far, Hilda has always been victorious."

"Lasse told me she keeps him out of sports classes at school."

"Yes, another one of her not so brilliant ideas. It's probably for the best if you just let it slide. Lasse will not be in sports. So, why Lasse?"

"Pardon?"

"Why do you want to befriend my son? He's only ten and you must be thirty, thirty-two perhaps?"

"I'm thirty-two. I've been wanting to join a big-brother organisation for the longest time, but I just never got around to take the next step and reach out to one. Then Lasse all of a sudden appears from out of nowhere and surprises me. I'm not sure, but I think we sort of bonded when I helped him with his medicine. Mind you, I don't see Lasse as a poor sick kid. I just see him as a kid who needs all the friends he can get. I don't know him, clearly, but I think he could use a healthy dose of self-confidence."

"And you think you can do that? Better than me and my wife?"

"No disrespect, Dennis, but if you were like me when we were ten, we didn't talk to our parents about everything that happened in our lives. When I was ten and a few years older, I wanted someone to talk to, someone who I could trust."

"And you want to be the guy Lasse can trust?"

"Yes. I'm not a professional, I know that, but if I can help in any way, that's what I want to do. Even if it's only to be a shoulder to cry on."

"I see. Well, I think dinner is about ready. Let's go join the rest, shall we?"

"Let's."

Jim wasn't sure what the verdict was going to be. Dennis hadn't thrown him out of the house, though he looked more than capable of doing just that. It had been intimidating sitting on the sofa in front of the man wearing his uniform, but once Jim ignored the fact that Dennis was a policeman, he had been able to relax considerably and speak freely.

Dinner had been more subdued. Lasse clearly didn't seem at ease and his behaviour was soon mimicked by Jim. He felt like he was ten years old again and having dinner at his friend's house. A friend he didn't know well and the parents even less.

As soon as Jim was able to, he excused himself and left the Hansen house. He didn't go home to his parents, instead he went to his own house. It was only seven in the evening, there was plenty of light left in the day and he busied himself with drilling holes in the studs to run more wiring.

***

"Knock, knock," Jim heard from the open door.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Lasse."

"Hi Lasse. Do your parents know you're here?"

"I think so. I told my mum I'd go for a walk. She told me not to stay too long since it's a school night."

"Okay. Come on in, but mind the cables. There's no power in any of them, but I don't want you to trip over one of them."

"Thanks. Man, you're putting in a lot of wires!"

"I am. But, I'm not installing outlets for all of them. The wiring doesn't cost a lot, the outlets do. It's just in case I need power for something, then I can put in an outlet and not run any extension cords."

"That's cool, I guess. When will you move in for real?"

"Hopefully before the winter. I want to finish the ground floor completely before I move in."

"I kind of like how it is now. You'd need a curtain or something for the bathroom when I come over and have to use it, though."

"I can always look away if you have to tinkle."

"Nah, that's okay."

What's okay? For me to watch him pee or like, it's okay, I don't have to pee now? Jim thought. However, since Lasse didn't walk to the toilet, this time it had to be the latter.

"So, do you think your parents are cool with us being friends?" Jim asked instead.

"Dunno. They said they had to talk, 's why I went for a walk."

"I guess time will tell. So, what do you think of the layout of my crib?"

"Hmm. It's kinda hard to tell, you've no furniture here."

"Want a tour?"

"Sure."

"Okay, let's go to the entrance door. Then I'll walk you through."

***

"And here's the bathroom, but you already know that," Lasse heard Jim say.

"Yeah, I do. I hope you'll get a new toilet. This one's almost as bad as the ones at school."

"Oh yes. New toilet and a shower stall over there by the drain and a sink."

"No tub?"

"No bathtub."

"You gotta have a tub. I love bathing," Lasse said, "At home I mean."

"Well, this bathroom will be for visitors. I'm going to make a large bathroom upstairs when I get a bit more money saved up. Hopefully, this year I'll get a bonus. If so, I just might get myself a Jacuzzi."

"Really? I'd do anything to try one of those."

"Whoa there, kid. Let's wait and see if your parents will even allow us to keep seeing each other before we start talking about you having a bath at my house."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"For sure, you didn't," Jim said and laughed, "No, seriously, let's wait. I want it as much as you, but it's up to your mum and dad if they will let it happen."

"I'm not gonna ask them if I can bathe here."

"Back up a bit. I meant our friendship. As to whether or not you'll ever have a bath in my house, well that depends on a lot of things."

"Like?"

"First of all, if we get to be so close friends that you'll want to spend time here, that is if your parents will ever allow it. And if I'll ever want you to sleep over at my house."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I don't know. To be honest, I don't know all that much about you. I hope that'll change."

"I hope so too. I really do."

"Well, let's say that was it for tonight. You need to go home and get ready for sleep. You have school tomorrow."

"Yeah, don't remind me. I like your house, Jim. I'm glad you decided to buy it even if it was struck by lightning."

"You know they say a lightning never strikes the same place twice. It won't matter if it does, I'll put up lightning deflectors so it'll just go straight into the ground."

"Good idea. Goodnight, Jim."

"Goodnight, Lasse. Go straight home now."

"I will. Maybe I'll visit you tomorrow?"

"Uh, I would like that, but I have a job thing I have to do. You can come by Saturday. I'll be here from early in the morning. Mind you, if you do decide to come over, wear some old clothes. I'll put you to work."

"Ugh. I don't like working."

"This'll be fun. I promise. But only if your mum says it's okay."

"I know. Okay, see you. I hope."

"See you, Lasse."

***

Jim's phone rang at 21:30. He was in his car, singing along to a song when the stereo muted the music and announced he had a call.

"Hello, Jim speaking. How may I help you?" He asked when he accepted the call.

"Hello, this is Hilda. Can you talk?"

"Oh hi. Yes, I can talk. I'm driving but it's on hands-free so I'm good."

"Okay. Well, I talked to Dennis after you left. And I talked to Lasse when he returned after his walk. Did he by any chance come by your house tonight?"

"He did. I told him he couldn't stay for long since it's a school night and everything," Jim said though it had been Lasse who had said something about not being able to stay for long.

"Well. I must admit I have mixed emotions about this, but Dennis thinks you're an honest man. And I trust his judgement. Besides, it would probably be next to impossible to have Lasse stay away from you now. He speaks of you like you're a saint or something. Which you just might be. In any case, I'm going to allow the two of you to see each other. However, we have to discuss some kind of rules."

"That's really good news, Hilda. I'm quite honoured that you're willing to give me a chance."

"Yes, well, don't get too excited just yet. Consider yourself as being on probation until further notice. If you make one wrong move with my baby boy, I'll make you sorely regret it. I'll email you the rules tomorrow afternoon. They are non-negotiable, you can either accept them in full, or there will be no friendship."

"I understand, Hilda. I'll let you know of my answer."

"Thanks. Have a good night."

"The same to…" Jim said but the music resumed playing before he could finish his sentence. Hilda had already hung up the phone.

Chapter 7

Friday, Jim checked for new emails every fifteen minutes or so until 3 pm. Hilda's mail ticked in, listing her demands. It was a long list, most of it told him what he couldn't do with Lasse, such as leaving the small town without clearing it with Hilda first. Also, Lasse wasn't to run or do anything that could trigger an attack. If Lasse experienced any angina attacks, Jim was to let Hilda know immediately.

Well, with all the things she has listed it's amazing she didn't mention anything about me being barred from taking him swimming. Unless she thinks of that as something that can trigger an attack. "Keep it to what friends would do." Well, what else would I do?

Jim wrote back and said he accepted the conditions. As an afterthought he wrote that Lasse was welcome to come over the next day from 8 o'clock in the morning, if he wanted to.

Jim went to the capitol and had dinner with one of his wealthiest clients, but cut the evening short. His mind was focusing on the next day rather than what the client and his wife tried to tell him. The client was important, but the house was more important to Jim. He wanted the restoration done as quickly as possible, not only so he could move away from home again, but more importantly so he'd have a place where he and Lasse could spend time together.

***

By 7 am, Jim was back at his house, taking delivery of a large pallet with plasterboards, another three with insulation and lots of screws. On a whim, he quickly drove to the DIY centre and bought a new power drill and safety glasses, earmuffs and dust masks. If Lasse would join him for some of the day, it wouldn't just be for hanging out. He'd be helping with the drywalls. Though he was small and suffered from a weak heart, he could still help. It wasn't too physically demanding to cut and install plasterboards.

A couple of minutes past 8 Jim heard Lasse say "Knock, knock" from just outside the open front door.

"Morning, Lasse. Are you ready for work?"

"Hi, Jim. I guess so."

"Well, you are wearing your old clothes unless you have a younger brother and accidently put on his clothes?"

"Heh, no. It's mine. I almost couldn't button up my jeans. I had to lie on my back and really suck in my belly."

"Let me know if you start feeling uncomfortable. Those jeans do look real snug on you."

"I'll manage. What're we gonna do? I saw all those boards outside, are they for the walls?"

"Yes. We have to cut them all to size. They're 5 cm [c. 2"] too long. You'll cut them outside, I'll carry them in, and then we'll both screw them onto the timber frames. Here, let me show you how to cut them, it's fairly simple."

Jim demonstrated how he first measured and cut through the paper on the upper side of the plasterboard, slid it a little away from the boards below and broke the plaster by bending it downwards.

"All you have to do now, is cut it from the other side and it's good to go. Try it out, but mind the knife. It's very sharp."

Lasse cut through the paper with the tip of his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth.

"Excellent. Let me move this out of the way and then you can try cutting the next one on your own."

"The edge is all jagged now."

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. It'll be covered up by a wooden trim piece I'll install after putting wallpaper on the walls."

"Isn't that cheating?"

"Not really. You'll never see the jagged edges. As long as you get the length of the board to be somewhere in between 230 cm [90.5"] and 235 cm [92.5"], the trim piece will cover up everything nicely."

"Okay. So I just place the ruler like this and cut next to it like so… Whoops! This isn't as easy as you made it look like."

"You don't have to cut so deep into the plaster, just enough to cut through the paper. That'll make it easier to cut along the ruler. Move the knife back a little and push it a bit more firmly up against the ruler."

"Right. And now, I just drag the board, oof, these are heavy, like this and snap. Aw, it's not a clean cut like yours was."

"It's easy to fix after you cut the paper on the other side. Use this grater and just rasp the edge of the plaster a little."

"Okay. Now you have two boards. I can't get to the next one until you take them inside."

"Move over a little. I'll take both of them at once, then you can continue."

Lasse was awestricken when he watched Jim place the first board on top of the second and picked up both of them. The plasterboards were heavy and Jim just picked them up as if they were only large sheets of paper. Cutting the boards was precision work and Lasse focused back on his task at hand. It wasn't exactly fun work, still Lasse carried on with a sense of great achievement.

How cool is this? I'm helping my new friend build a house! And it's a proper house, not just a treehouse or something, he thought while he carefully tried to trace the edge of the metal ruler with the short blade of the utility knife.

"Dang it! It keeps slipping."

"Don't worry about it, you're doing great, " Jim reassured Lasse, "Finish cutting that one and then come in with me. We have to install the first three to tell how wide the next one needs to be."

***

It was much harder to screw the plasterboards in place, even with the nifty special bit for the power drill. The screws had to go through the boards and bite into the wood, which meant they had to be placed quite accurately and then Lasse had to hold the power drill in exactly the proper angle and push it hard against the screw or it would slip. It took him more than just a couple of tries to get the first screw in place, but Jim was very patient.

"You'll soon get the hang of it. If you take care of the lower screws, I'll do the rest."

"Okay, cool," Lasse said and kept trying. For every screw he managed to drive into the timber framing, Jim screwed in nearly five. Still, it was cool for the young boy to operate a dangerous power tool, even though it was kind of heavy.

***

"So, the end board has to be 46 cm [18"] wide at the bottom and only 45.5 cm [17.9"] at the top. Think you can fabricate such a board for me?" Jim asked after he had measured twice and scratched the nape of his head.

"Yup," Lasse said full of confidence. He went outside to the pallet with plasterboards and picked up the metal ruler and the carpenters pencil. He managed to cut and break off the extra 5 cm [2"] from the board, then carefully marked the measurements on either end of what remained.

"Jim? How do I do this? The ruler isn't long enough to reach from one end to the other," he said loudly so the man could hear him.

"That's a good question," Jim said when he joined Lasse outside, "Let's see. The ruler is 120 cm [47"] long. And we need it to be 235 cm [92.5"]. How about this? Measure half of 235 cm up along the edge of the board, make a mark there, and then you…"

"Wait, I think I got it. So, half of 235 is, uhm, one hundred and fifteen plus 2.5, that's 117.5… There, it's marked now. Then I gotta measure across and it has to be exactly in between the top and bottom marks, which is 45.75 cm [c. 18"]. There! Now I just have to connect the dots."

"Most impressingly, Lasse. You don't have to draw a line with the pencil, however. You can just put the ruler in place, hold it down firmly and run the knife next to it. Just make sure the ruler doesn't slip or you won't be cutting in a straight line."

Lasse had to climb on top of the plasterboards, which Jim told him was okay. He put the ruler carefully on the plasterboard, lined it up with the first two marks and began cutting into the board with the knife. When the ruler had slipped twice, Lasse put his knee down at one end of it and held the other end down with his hand while he cut along the edge of the ruler.

"Looks like you've got it all figured out now, little man. I can just relax in the chair and watch you install all of the plasterboards on your own."

"Nuh-uh. They're way too heavy. 'Sides I'm not doing all of this by myself. You gotta do sumthing too."

"Don't take everything I say too seriously, Lasse. I wouldn't dream of doing something like that to you. Let's finish this first wall, it needs a second layer of plasterboards, then we'll take a short break, okay?"

Lasse agreed to Jim's plan and managed to carry the cut off piece of plasterboard into the house all on his own.

"Is it s'posed to be askew?" Lasse asked when they had finished driving in the last screw, "This long wall's leaning to the side a bit."

"Well, not really. I guess we put the frames up a bit too quickly. It doesn't lean too much to notice unless you really study it, I think, and it is sort of an old house. Let's keep this a little secret just between you and me, eh?"

"Sure. I won't tell a soul. My lips are sealed and I threw away the key for the lock," Lasse said sombrely and showed Jim how he turned an imaginary key in front of his lips and threw it away.

"Good. I really don't want to try to fix the framing studs now. If I fix this wall, then I have to fix all the walls connected to it too. It'll take too long."

"Yeah. You'll never get to move in if you want it all to be perfect. I can't wait to see what it'll look like once we get it all done."

"You and me both. Okay, the next layer has to be put up so all of the edges of the first layer is covered. It means we have to start with half a plasterboard. The blue dots you see here mark the middle of the board, so it should be real easy for you to cut one in half."

"Easy-peasy. One half coming right up."

***

45 minutes later, the first wall, really the first side of the first wall, was installed.

"All it needs now is a bit of putty to cover up the screws and the edges where the boards join up, and then a layer of wallpaper," Jim explained to Lasse.

"It's not as hard to build a wall as I thought it would be," Lasse said.

"Well, it helps when you have an expert to cut up the plasterboards."

Lasse beamed when he heard the praise and smiled up at Jim, "Thanks, but I'm no expert. I only just learned how to do it today."

"You're a natural, then. Let's sit and relax for a bit. I have some sodas in the cooler box over there, if you want one?"

"Yes, please. I need to pee first though."

"You know where the toilet is."

"Yes. I'll be right quick."

"Take your time, Lasse. Don't hurry, it only leaves stains on your trousers."

"What?"

"Ah! You didn't know that? If you try to pee too quickly and tuck it away too soon without shaking the drops off of it, then you'll end up with pee stains in front of your trousers."

"Oh! I knew that," Lasse said and headed for the free standing toilet, "No peeking now."

"I won't look."

Jim kept his word, but he could clearly hear how the boy's pee made music as it hit the water in the bowl of the old toilet.

"You know," Lasse said, while he still peed, "We shoulda started with the walls for the bathroom. I sure wouldn't want you listening to me when I poo."

"Do you moan so loudly? I'd be more worried of the stench from it."

"Yeww! I don't moan," Lasse said, tucked his penis into his underpants and zipped up his jeans.

"Never? Everybody moans a little when they poo."

"For real? Well, not me," Lasse opened the cooler box. It was full of cans of soda, three different flavours, "Would you like one too?"

"Yeah, I'll have a Fanta, please."

Jim took the can from Lasse when the boy handed it to him, and he ignored the fact that Lasse hadn't washed his hands after peeing. There wasn't a sink in the house, not one that still worked anyway.

"You're right, Lasse. We should've put up the walls for the bathroom first. I forgot to order the plasterboards for that, though. They're a little different from the ones we're installing now. They're coated with something that'll prevent water from getting into them."

"It's not a big deal. I only poo when I wake up and sometimes just before going to bed."

"I think that's what most people do. And they do moan or gasp. At least everyone I've ever heard having a poo did so."

"Maybe I do too. Just a little."

"It's only normal. Hey, what time do you have to go home?"

"For lunch. I'll try to come back after. If you want me to?"

"You're always welcome. Just make sure it's okay with your mam."

"I'll ask her. It's fun helping you."

"Good, because we're far from done."

"Yup, we still have to do the bathroom," Lasse giggled and the sound of it warmed Jim's heart.

"It'll have to wait until Monday at least."

"Can it wait until next weekend? I want to help with that."

"I thought you wanted privacy when you pee."

"Eh, it's okay. I can live with it if it means I can help build the walls for it."

"Then it's a deal."

"Cool. What next?"

"Well, let's finish our sodas and I'll show you what to do on the other side of the wall we just built. We need to insulate it before putting plasterboards up on it."

"Okay."

***

They had only just managed to put in the last of the insulation before Lasse had to go home for lunch. He'd rather stay with Jim, but he was hungry. The work that morning had been fun, but the unfamiliar activity had drained the boy's batteries and he seriously needed a recharge in the form of food. While Lasse had lunch at home, Jim ate the sandwiches his mother had made for him. He sat in the old worn plastic garden chair in the middle of what would end up being his lounge.

Chapter 8

Instead of waiting for Lasse, Jim began working after only a fifteen minutes long lunch break. A lot of things was still waiting to be done and he didn't know if Lasse would be returning at all.

I hope he comes back. He's an interesting and funny kid. And having him here made work feel like playing.

Jim cut some more plasterboards to length and began installing them on the other side of the studs they had already clad with boards and insulated. It took longer, as he had to cut holes for the built-in pattress boxes for outlets. Like he had explained to Lasse, Jim installed a pattress box for every 2 metres [6.5 feet], into which he pulled the end of the wires through. At a later time, Jim would install faceplates over the pattress box which could easily be removed and an outlet installed instead.

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" Jim asked, playing along with Lasse's game.

"The expert board-cutter."

"Cool! I am in dire need of an expert board-cutter. Did you enjoy your lunch Lasse?"

"Sorta. Mum asked a lot of questions."

"Oh. Well, she must have liked what you told her, since you're here and all."

"I guess. I can stay until five. Tomorrow I can only visit in the morning. After lunch I have to go visit my grandma and grandpa."

"Family's important. But since you're here now, how about you cut another board for me? Then we need to figure out the width of the last one, it'll have to be less than the first you made."

"'Cuz of the corner?"

"Right. You're a fast learner, Lasse," Jim said and continued in a louder voice since Lasse walked out the door, "So, what football player is the best in the world today?"

"That's Messi. No doubt about it."

"Okay. What about all-time best player?"

"Still Messi."

"What about Laudrup?"

"Michael? Uh, he was good but he's like super old now."

"Eriksen then? He's not so old."

"He's good too, but not as good as Messi."

"Have you ever been to a game?"

"Where Messi was playing? No."

"No, I meant, any game. Like the league games."

"I only watched some on telly."

"Okay. You don't really get the full experience from that."

"Have you been?"

"Yes. Lots of times. The bank has lots of season tickets, usually I give a couple of them to my good clients."

"Lucky them."

"They do appreciate it," Jim said and thought, But now, I may hold onto two of the tickets. If Hilda will ever allow an excursion out of town.

***

When the time neared 5 in the afternoon, Jim and Lasse had stopped working. They had managed to clad the walls of the entryway and half of the lounge with plasterboards. The large stack of boards on the pallet in the front garden had been about halved and they put a tarp over the rest of the boards.

"Very nice, we got more done than I thought we would. Thank you so much for your valuable assistance Lasse."

"It's okay. I didn't do all that much."

"No you did a lot. Had it not been for you, I'm sure I wouldn't have finished with the entryway yet. If we keep this rate up tomorrow, I'll have to order the rest of the plasterboards sooner than I thought."

"Remember, you promised me I'd get to help with the bathroom."

"I haven't forgotten. I'll order them along with the rest but I won't do anything with them other than move them inside the house. Next weekend, or the one after, we'll build the bathroom walls."

"Then you won't have to go in the middle of your house anymore."

"I just may have to do so in the backyard for a while. I want to move the toilet and it means breaking up the floor so I can move the water and wastepipe. I need to move them so I can extend the wastepipe up to the new bathroom on the first floor."

"How long will that take?"

"Only a couple of days I hope. I don't know for sure."

"I hope you'll have it done before I need to use it again. I won't mind peeing in your backyard, but I'm not going to poo out there."

"If you did, I wouldn't have to suffer from the smell."

"Nuh-uh. No way! I'd rather just go home to poo and come back afterwards."

"Well, I can't make you walk so long just to take a poo. I'll work on it during the week. Hopefully it'll be done by the weekend."

"That's more like it. I hafta go now, Jim. What time will you be here tomorrow?"

"About seven, I think. Same as today."

"I'll be here then."

"At seven? No, have breakfast with your parents before you leave home."

"Then I wouldn't be here until ten. They always sleep for so long on the weekends."

"Oh? Well, don't come here until eight, I can be grumpy early in the mornings."

"Okay. See you at eight then."

Jim smiled at Lasse when he left the house. He wasn't smiling because the boy was leaving but because he'd return the next morning.

***

"We built walls, mum. It was so cool. And he knows footballers. And though he doesn't think Messi is the best, Jim's still cool."

"That's good, Lasse. He didn't try to touch you or make you touch him?"

"Huh? No! Mum, I told you Jim isn't a pedo. He's friendly and fun to hang out with. Is it still okay for me to visit him tomorrow until lunch?"

"Yes, but I don't want you to visit him every day from now on. He needs a little peace and quiet every now and then."

"Aw, I'm not bugging him. I help him and he told me he couldn't have done so much we did today by himself. So there."

"Okay, okay. As long as he is up for it and you keep doing your homework, you can visit him. I'm sure your dad will appreciate being able to rest when he's at home instead of you pestering him for doing things with you."

"I don't pester dad, but that doesn't matter. Jim isn't going back to work until the 28th and he's going to be working on his house every day until then. I want to help him, it's all kinds of interesting."

"As long as he remembers you have a heart condition and you mind it, it's fine. Maybe you want to be a builder when you grow up?"

"Nah. I'll buy myself a new heart and then I'll play football. I'll make it onto the national team and win the world championship. But, until then I want to help Jim build his house. There's still a lot to do before he can move in."

Hilda was too shocked from hearing Lasse's plans for the future to respond coherently to them. She managed a feeble, "Well that's good for you," and focused on her cooking.

***

"Hello Jim. It's Hilda. I hope it isn't too late to be calling you?" Jim heard the voice of Lasse's mother on his phone.

"Uh, no, not at all, Hilda," he said and tried to make it sound like he hadn't been asleep for at least twenty minutes.

"I'm concerned for Lasse. You're likely the wrong person to talk to about it, but my husband doesn't seem to be worried. He thinks Lasse will just grow out of it."

"He'll grow out of what?" Jim was suddenly able to fully shake off the cobwebs of sleep.

"He is still determined to play professional football. Tonight, while we cooked, he told me of a new way to make it happen. He wants to buy himself a new heart!"

"Oh? Well, I've heard of some dodgy operations taking place in China with illegal transplants, so it isn't too farfetched, but still not very likely Lasse will ever be able to reach out to them and have enough money to pay for it. Not to mention the moral implications of it. Do you want me to talk to Lasse about it?"

"Someone will have to. Lasse won't listen to me and his father. Maybe, he'll listen to you?"

"It might be tricky. We've only just become friends, if I start lecturing him then he may not want to continue our friendship."

"Somehow I can't see that happen. He thinks very fondly of you. I just don't want him to keep adding to his dream and hurt even more when he finally realizes it will never happen."

"Would it be alright if I play a bit of football with him? Only in my backyard, not on a field. Maybe that would get him to trust me more and I can gently talk to him about this dream of his that'll never come true?"

"Uh. I'm not sure if that would be the right approach. And I really don't want Lasse to experience any more attacks than absolutely necessary."

"He has the spray. It helps him get over them almost instantly. And I'll be right next to him if it's necessary. I won't hurt your son, Hilda. That isn't why I'm his friend."

"No, of course not. If I had the impression you were out to deliberately hurt Lasse, I'd never agree to let him visit you again. Dennis has told me several times that Lasse should exercise more, and now you tell me the same. Maybe the two of you are right and I'm wrong. Just be gentle with my boy, okay? Be there for him, help and comfort him when he needs it?"

"That's what I've done and wanted to do from the very beginning, Hilda. To help and aid Lasse while he grows up to hopefully be an independent and self-assured young adult. I want to be his friend through the good times and the bad. So, yeah, I'll try to talk to him about the football dream. I don't know if I can shatter his dream without hurting him, though. I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to do that."

"Maybe that's what makes you the right person for the job. It'll probably upset him for a while, but rather that than letting it develop into something he might never get over. What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"For Lasse?"

"No, I mean all day. We're visiting my parents tomorrow afternoon, but I think Lasse would rather want to spend all of the day with you. Well, if you don't have any plans for the afternoon and evening. We should be back at half past eight. No later than nine anyway."

"As sad as it may sound, I don't have any plans for the rest of the day tomorrow. I was just going to keep working on the house. If I'm going to be with Lasse for the entire day and early evening, then I should be able to come up with something less tiring for us to do."

"You could always come here. Lasse has a key of his own and he knows how to disable the alarm."

"You're okay with that?"

"Yes. Just clean up whatever mess the two of you will make before we return."

"Right then. Hmm, I think we'll have lunch at my house then go to yours for dinner and relaxation in the evening."

"That sounds like a nice plan. I'll let you tell Lasse."

"Okay. Goodnight Hilda."

"Goodnight, Jim. Oh, before I forget, if we're not home at nine, then please make sure Lasse goes to bed then. I'm sure we'll be home, it's just in case."

"No problem. I'll see to it."

"Thanks."

"Bye now."

"Bye."

Jim looked astonished at his phone after he hung up. This time, Hilda hadn't just abruptly ended the call.

Well, it'll be a long day tomorrow, I better go back to sleep and come tomorrow morning, I can worry over how to tell Lasse that he'll never be able to become a professional footballer.

Chapter 9

Lasse woke earlier than he usually would on a Sunday morning. He had set his alarm clock to wake him at 6:30 am, half an hour earlier than he'd usually get up on a school day. Normally, he wouldn't set his clock at all during the weekends. This day was different though, he'd be helping Jim again, and he wanted to be at his friend's house at the very moment the curfew set by Jim run out. They had agreed to, well Jim had dictated, Lasse arriving at eight o'clock. Lasse was adamant he'd be there at that exact time.

His body was strangely sore when he stretched his limbs while still lying in his bed under the light cover. The unfamiliar sensation felt odd at first, but the more he lay there and got used to it, the more he liked it. It was what someone who worked hard every day would feel like, he decided, and that wasn't bad. He spent a bit longer than usual under the warm spray of water in the shower, enjoyed how it loosened up and soothed his muscles.

He spent time in front of the mirror, brushed his teeth topless, while he studied the vertical scar on his chest for the first time in years. It really didn't stand out so much any longer, it was only a paler, almost white, band of skin smack center in between his nipples. Less than 5 mm [c. 0.2"] across and almost exactly 10 cm [4"] long, the scar sat on his chest and was the only real evidence of someone having had their hands inside his chest messing about with his heart.

That's almost like a fairy tale too. But the doctor told me they stopped my heart for 74 minutes before they restarted it with a jolt of electricity. I was dead for 74 minutes! A machine pumped the blood through my body but I was really dead.

He looked further down his chest and saw the two much smaller scars where wires and drains had been sitting for a week after his surgery before they had been pulled out. He couldn't remember it happen, but had seen the gross, yet fascinating, pictures his mum had taken of him at the hospital. The horizontal scars were almost indistinctive, the right one of them was very hard to see even for Lasse, who knew where to look.

There'll be more scars when they put in my new heart. But it's a small price to pay to become the best footballer in the world. I'll be the new Messi.

"But first, I need to help Jim build his house," he stated to the boy looking back at him in the mirror. It mimicked his words, he could see the lips move as he spoke. He winked at the boy and at exactly the same time he winked back to him. As if they shared a secret only the two of them knew about.

"That's dumb," Lasse to said to himself and poked his tongue out at his mirrored image.

He quickly put on the clothes he had worn the previous day, again struggling to do up the tight jeans, then helped himself to a bowl of cereal, which he ate while swallowing his pills one at a time. It was how his mum had gotten him used to taking pills when he was younger and was how he still took them. With breakfast over, the bowl rinsed and placed in the dishwasher, he checked his wristwatch for the 12th time that morning. He sighed when he realized it was still much too early to begin walking to Jim's house.

***

Jim had just gotten out of his car at the house when he saw Lasse come round the corner at the end of the street. The boy walked ultra-slow and it looked quite funny to Jim. He shook his head a little at the sight and pushed open the gate to his front garden. He unlocked the door to his house and waited for Lasse. The boy stopped in front of the gate, looked at his watch, but made no move to enter the garden.

"Morning Lasse."

"Hi Jim," Lasse responded and checked his watch again.

"Uh, aren't you coming in?"

"I can't. It's not eight yet. It's only 7:57 and 23 seconds. I tried to time it so I'd get here precisely at eight o'clock."

"That's okay, I'm here now. I only said that to make sure you wouldn't show up at six and find the door locked."

"Hmm. Okay, if you say so. Do you want me to cut more boards today?"

"Yes, but I have some stuff in the car I want to move into the lounge first. It's just a small table and two chairs, but better than one of us having to use the loo for a chair while the other sits on the plastic chair. I also bought some breakfast for us."

"Thanks. I already ate though."

"I'm sure you can fit a freshly baked Danish inside that slim tummy of yours. It was still warm from the oven when I bought them at the bakers."

"What kind?"

"Cinnamon. With chocolate icing."

"Oh, yes. I like those."

"I had a feeling you would."

***

Boy and man sat facing each other with the small table in between them while they munched on the Danish pastry. Jim had also bought cold chocolate milk and he enjoyed how it gave Lasse a small moustache when he took the first sip from his glass. He sighed inwardly, when he thought of how to start talking about a subject he had absolutely no desire to talk about.

There's no easy way to begin.

"So, Lasse. Your mum told me that you want to be a pro ball player."

"Uh-huh. I've been saving all my money for a new heart. One that'll be 100% functional."

"It would be nice, if it was only so simple."

"It is simple. Well, a heart probably costs a lot, so I'd have to save for a long time but then…"

"Okay then. Where would this new heart come from?"

"I don't know for sure. Don't they grow them? I saw a picture of mouse once with a human ear on its back. I figure it'll be the same with hearts."

"Oh, no. Lasse, a heart is so much more complicated than an ear. Oh, I read about that a couple of years ago, I think. The human ear on the mouse I mean. It was a one-time thing only. As far as I remember, it wasn't even a real human ear, it was just a replica made from some other animal. I don't remember which one, but it wasn't human," Jim explained, then took a deep breath.

"The only way to get hold of a new heart would be to take it from someone else. A living person, someone who matches your DNA and blood type and a myriad of other things. Even then, it isn't a given thing your body would accept it and in any case you'd still have to take a lot of medicine that would prevent you from becoming a professional football player."

"Really? So, someone would have to die for me to…?"

"Yes."

"Darn! That sucks!"

"I'm sorry, Lasse. There's still a lot of other jobs you can handle."

"No, it's not that. I've saved all my money for three years!"

"You aren't sad about not being able to become a pro footballer?"

"A little, but I knew it would be next to impossible, even with a good heart it's only few who ever makes it. But, didn't you hear me? I haven't spent as much as one measly buck on sweets or anything else in three years!"

"You must have a lot of money now then. Want to invest it and make more?"

"Hell no! It's like 2000 kroner. I'm gonna buy me a, uhmm. I don't know. What do you think I should buy?"

"You're asking the wrong person. If I had 2000 kroner I didn't know what to spend on, they'd end up in the big pot named 'House Restoration'."

"You really think I should invest it?"

"It's up to you. It's a lot of money for a ten year-old. If you are going to spend it, don't go crazy on sweets though. It would only make you fat and you'd end up hating sweets."

"I'd never hate sweets. But I can't get fat, then my heart would only be even more useless than it is now."

"My advice would be for you to spend some time to think of what you'd like to spend your money on. Investing it in something safe like a child's saving account would only give you a return rate of max 7.5% per year. Even in eight years' time, you'd only end up with a total of around 3300 kroner."

"How did you figure that out so quickly?"

"It's what I do every day. Though, the numbers I work with are usually somewhat larger."

"You don't have many kids as clients."

"No. I don't have any at all. Just old boring, rich men. And a couple of women, but still old and grey."

"It's a good thing you saved my life then. So you won't die from boredom."

"That's right," Jim laughed, "Actually, for the rest of the day I won't be bored at all. I'll be spending it with you."

"Uh, I have to be home for lunch and then I'm going to my grandma and grandpa."

"That's what you think. I talked to your mum last night and she thought you'd be having more fun with me."

"Cool! Not that I don't like my grandparents but they always tell me to be careful. They have all these small things they think I'll knock over and break. It only happened twice but now they think I'll break at least one every time I go there."

"It's a good thing I don't have anything you can knock over here then. No, seriously, we're spending the rest of the day together. I may even get to tuck you in tonight."

"You don't have to do that. I can go to bed by myself."

"I promised your mum I'd tuck you in if they aren't home by nine. So, that's exactly what I'll do."

Chapter 10

Lasse watched how Jim made the hole for a pattress box in one of the plasterboards. He used a hole-saw fitted to the power drill. Carefully, Lasse drilled the next hole near the floor. He sat on his knees, wore the dust mask and protective eyeglasses, both too big for him. The hole-saw generated a cloud of fine dust from the plaster and Lasse sat right in the middle of the cloud. He sneezed when some of the dust managed to find a way into his nostrils but didn't stop the drill until the hole-saw pushed through the plasterboard.

"Good job, Lasse!" Jim said encouragingly to the boy.

"It's easier than cutting with the knife, but it sure is a lot filthier."

"It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it, right?"

"That sounds like that diaper commercial on telly. You know, when the man opens the diaper and it cuts away just before you get to see anything real offensive?"

"I don't watch much TV, I mostly watch Netflix, but I have seen that commercial. It's funny. Next time you watch it, pay close attention at the end. If you look carefully at the watch the guy is wearing, you can see the baby's sex reflected in it, just before the commercial ends."

"Noo? Is it a boy or a girl?"

"I'm not telling. I want to see if you can figure it out."

"That's messed up. Why would they do something like that?"

"I don't think they did it on purpose. Somehow it just slipped past the editing or something."

"It's not a big deal, though."

"Oh, it's bigger than you'd think. Oops, I almost slipped there."

***

Lasse peed into the still not very private toilet while he held his penis in such a way Jim couldn't see it, just in case Jim was to turn around and look. He didn't, he waited until Lasse had flushed the toilet before he walked up to it and peed into it as well. Lasse tried not to look, but the noise from the man's pee was a lot louder and he just had to find out what size a penis would have to be to make such a ruckus.

It sure is hairy, Lasse thought and quickly looked away before Jim had a chance of catching him looking at his private parts.

"Why, you little peeping Tom," he heard Jim laughingly accuse him, "You told me not to look at you and then you look at mine."

"Sorry," Lasse said sheepishly.

"It's fine. Boys are curious about stuff at your age. I know I was."

"You're not angry with me?"

"Of what? Of you behaving like any other boy would? Nah. It's fine, really. I only think it's funny you told me not to look and then think it's okay for you to watch me pee. It's a bit hypocritical and a little unfair, that's all."

"You could've waited until I had gotten further away from the toilet before you whipped out your thang and peed so loud all your neighbours could hear it."

"My thang? Is that what you kids call it nowadays?"

"I dunno. Yours is no peener, that's for sure. It's…" Lasse halted and searched for the proper word for what he had seen.

"A thang?"

"'Xactly!"

"Okay. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm famished. I could eat a family-sized pizza on my own."

"Pizza? For lunch?"

"Sure. If it's too unhealthy for you, we can share a salad instead."

"No! I mean, I'd really like a pizza. I haven't had one for lunch, ever."

"Okay. To the Batmobile, Robin. We'll wash our hands at the pizzeria."

Lasse laughed heartily at the word Jim had used to describe his old car. It was a Volkswagen Jetta, and about as far off from a Batmobile a car could be. It wasn't even black, it was green.

***

"How can you eat that?" Lasse said after swallowing a large bite of his pizza.

"This? It's my favourite of all pizzas. This place isn't too bad either. I think I'll be coming here more often than will be good for me."

"Doesn't it burn your mouth? Chili peppers and hot sauce?"

"No, it's just tasty," Jim said, then leaned right over the table and whispered to Lasse, "It's what made my thang so big."

Jim winked conspiringly at the boy and carved out another bite-sized piece of the pizza. Before he could get it from the plate and into his mouth, Lasse speared it with his fork and put it into his own mouth. He smiled a cheeky smile at Jim and bit down on the stolen piece of pizza. Almost immediately, Lasse began coughing. He nearly knocked over his large glass of Sprite in a frantic attempt to get something to put out the flames he was certain were burning within his mouth.

"Ughh," He gasped after he drank a sizable amount of the Sprite, "If that's what it takes, then I don't want a big thang," he whispered the last bit so only Jim could hear it.

"Well, you wouldn't need one anyway, not for another five years."

"Why not?"

"It isn't allowed… Well, we can talk about it some more in private. Not here where people might hear."

"Okay. I really don't get how you can eat that and act like you enjoy it. It's much too spicy."

"Let me have a bite of yours, it's only fair… No, I want one of the pieces of pineapple too, please."

"Those are the best thing and he only put so few of them on it. I'll let you have half of one."

"No problem. I wonder what's so nice about a pizza with ham, cheese, tomato sauce and pineapple."

"It's sweet and the crunchiness of the pineapples is just so sick."

"Oh, yes, it is sweet. Sickening sweet. Nah, your pizza is safe from me, I won't eat it."

"Yay, I finally get a whole pizza all to myself. Mum always eats like a quarter of mine. I don't know why she doesn't just get one herself."

"Who knows? Maybe that's just the way parents treat their kids. My mam always had to taste my food too. Though, like you, it only took one bite for her to figure out she doesn't like pizza the way I like mine."

***

When they had finished eating, Jim and Lasse got back inside the car.

"So, why isn't it allowed to have a big thang?" Lasse asked.

"Uhm, there isn't a law prohibiting boys from having a large tha, no, call it a pecker or a prick from now on, alright?"

"Okay. Prick, then."

"A boy can have a large prick, but they can't use it for much until they turn fifteen. Before then, all they can do is play with themselves. It's against the rules to have sex with someone other than yourself when you're less than fifteen years old."

"Why would someone want to have sex when they're just a kid? I don't want to have kids of my own. Not until I'm old like you."

"Thank you. I'm not that old, you know? Anyway, people don't have sex only to make babies. They primarily do it because it feels nice. Do you sometimes tug on your, what did you call it? Your peener? When it gets all stiff and sticks out?"

"Sure. It feels good. I do it sometimes when I take baths. I can make it get hard when I want to. But sometimes it also gets hard when I don't want it to."

"That sounds about right. It's only natural and will happen more often when you get a little older. And there you have it. When you tug on it, you're having sex with yourself. It's called masturbation when someone plays with themselves. Even girls do it. Some, at least."

"Oh. I thought it was wanking. Not masterbating."

"Wanking is another word for it. The proper phrase is masturbation. That doesn't matter. Some supposedly wise people say it's good to wank, that one should do it often, like every day. It helps you relax and feel better."

"Do you?"

"Do I wank? Yes. Uh, please keep that to yourself, don't tell your mam or pop we talked about this, okay? They don't need to know about my wanking habits."

"'Course not. And don't you tell my mum I wank in the bath either. She'll freak out."

"Heh, she still thinks of you as her baby. So does my mam."

"Really? I hate when my mum treats me like I'm a little kid. Which she does all of the time."

"That's what mothers do."

"So, how did yours get so big then?"

"Pardon?"

"How did your prick get to be so big? It's like huge and so hairy."

"Puberty, my friend. Yours will get bigger and hairy too, in time. I didn't do anything, nor will you have to, other than wait for it."

"'K. Do you think mine will get as big as yours?"

"I've no idea. Mine is only average, I guess there are men out there with even bigger pricks than mine. Well, based on the porn movies I've seen, there are lots of them. But, the size of it isn't so important. Even the smallest of pricks will be able to shoot sperm into a woman's vagina and impregnate her."

Lasse wrinkled his nose in disgust. Women weren't what he was interested in, certainly not impregnating them. The shooting of sperm sounded intriguing but he had had enough of talking about sex for the time being.

"Do you want me to install more of those gizmos in the walls when we get back to your house?"

"The pattress boxes?"

"Yeah, that's what you called them."

"If you want to."

"There's not many boards left."

"No, that's right. I'll order more tomorrow or Tuesday perhaps. But I have to insulate the attic as well. Now, that's a job just right for you."

"How come?"

"Because you're smaller than me. It was a darn tight fit getting the old insulation out of there. Will be worse getting the new in as the new mats are a lot thicker. Nah, you know what, I'll install the insulation on my own. I don't want to take advantage of you. You wouldn't want to be my friend anymore if I do."

"It's okay. I've had fun so far. I don't think you could do anything to keep me away from you."

"Well, I don't want to risk it. I like you a lot and love hanging out with you."

"I like you too. Hey, there's that stupid song again. Skip to the next one, please."

"Why? It's one of my favourite songs."

"The words don't make any sense."

"You still on about the falling heart stuff?"

"Yeah. It isn't possible."

"It's an idiom. A figure of speech. When he sings about his heart still being able to fall as hard as when he was 23, all he really means is he can still be caught by surprise."

"Why doesn't he just sing that then?"

"It probably wouldn't rhyme as well. Just listen to the song," Jim said and pushed a key on the car stereo. The song started anew.

"Aw. It's so mushy. What does he mean by the taste of love and how would a mouth be able to remember it?"

"Well, a couple of things could leave a taste in that context. I think he's talking about kissing. With tongues."

"Yuck."

"Don't say that until you've actually tried it with someone you like a lot. It's a very nice feeling."

"But, sticking your tongue into someone's mouth? What if they ate something you don't like?"

"Ever heard of brushing your teeth? Or suck on a piece of hard mint sweet just before you kiss?"

"I'd make you suck on three mint sweets before I stuck my tongue in your mouth, that's for sure. That pizza you ate, it would burn me."

Whoa! What did he just say? Jim thought in surprise and quickly looked over at Lasse whose cheeks were quickly changing colour to a deep red.

"Well, uh, remember what I told you about needing to be 15 years old before you can have sex with anyone?" Jim asked.

"Yes?"

"Kissing like that, uh, it could be classified as having sex."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Shit! Forget I ever said that stuff about kissing you. And, please, don't tell my mum!"

"Oh, I wouldn't tell her about something like that. I only agreed to tell her if something happened to you so you had to use your nitro spray. We are allowed to have small secrets."

"Yeah. Like I watched you pee."

"Like that, yes."

"I only saw it for a second."

"If you want to, we can pee over cross some time."

"Pee over cross?"

"Yes. Don't tell me you haven't ever done that? It's when two guys pee into the same toilet at the same time, and make the streams cross each other."

"No, I haven't."

"I did that a lot when I was even younger than you are now. My best friend and I, every time one of us had to pee, we'd both go, so we could get back to playing with our toys as soon as possible."

"Oh."

"We don't have to, if you don't want to. But, it would give you a chance to see my thang better."

"But, you'd be able to see mine too."

"Well, yes. Would that be such a bad thing? I'm sure there's nothing wrong with yours."

"I guess not."

Chapter 11

Back at Jim's house, Lasse went back to drilling holes for the pattress boxes, while Jim cut insulation to size and fitted it in between the studs. After five minutes of silence, Lasse spoke.

"If you really want to do that thing, you know? Pee over cross, then I'm up for it. But you can't tell anyone ever."

"It's only if you want to try it. I've done it plenty of times when I was a kid, so it's nothing special to me."

"I want to. Everything we've done so far has been fun or cool, so…"

"Okay. Whenever you have to go, just let me know. I should be able to squeeze out a bit of pee soon. You took those free refills at the pizzeria quite seriously, didn't you?"

"I would've had another one if you hadn't said no."

"Didn't you see the look on his face the third time you filled our glasses? He was about ready to kick us out of there."

"No. But he shouldn't offer something like that and then get all mad when people make use of it."

"I guess you're right. But, I'm sure he didn't know about you when he wrote the sign. Next time we go there, I'm sure he'll have taken it down."

"You'll take me there again?"

"Sure. He makes great pizzas. For such a small town, I'm surprised there are three pizzerias here. I think we got lucky by picking that one."

"Mine was nice. Yours, not so."

"All a matter of taste. People fortunately don't like the same things."

"Why is that fortunate?"

"Well, in my opinion, the world would be boring if everyone liked the same things. There'd be no venturing into unknown things, no broadening of your mind. Imagine yourself eating the same stuff day in and day out for the rest of your life."

"If it was a Hawaiian pizza I think I could live with it."

"I think you'd grow bored of it in the end. You wouldn't even be able to taste the sickly sweetness of the pineapples. It would just be like eating unsalted boiled potatoes. It would keep you alive, but it would be boring."

"I disagree."

"And, that's because your taste is different to mine. If we shared the same taste, you'd love eating the hot and spicy pizza I like. Mind you, I don't always have the same pizza."

"I always have the same."

"You like the routine I suppose. Most people find comfort in doing the same things over and over. Me? I'm more the adventurous type of person."

"Adventurous? Like Dungeon and Dragons?"

"Kind of, but without the dungeons and the dragons. I like to travel, for instance, to experience how people live their lives in other countries. I think it's from how my parents raised me. They used to drag me on camping trips all over Europe every time I had a holiday from school. I can't remember one holiday where I just stayed at home. I remember being envious of my friends because they did a lot of cool stuff while I was in some foreign country.

"But, of course, they were envious of me for having been in Croatia or Poland or wherever my parents took me."

"That's weird. You like to travel now, but you didn't like it as a kid?"

"Back then, I didn't have a choice. If my parents wanted to go to Germany, we'd go to Germany. It didn't matter if I'd rather go to Sweden and fish. Usually it was okay though. I met lots of kids from different places and played with them."

"You don't have to travel to find kids to play with anymore. You got me now."

"That's true. Though, I don't travel to find kids to play with now. That sounds so wrong."

"Huh? Oh! Now I get it. Heh, yeah. Have you ever been to Thailand?"

"Oh please! But, no, I've never been to any countries in Asia. I'd like to go to Thailand, but not to play with the kids there. I'm not like that."

***

Though Jim kept telling himself he wasn't like that, a pedo or a boy lover, he found himself quite attracted to Lasse's youthful, boyish nature. Spending time with the ten years old boy made him feel like a kid again. In particular when they stood side by side in front of the grubby old toilet and peed into it. They giggled like two four year-olds while Lasse moved his stream of pee around the bowl trying to keep it from being intercepted by Jim's heavier stream.

Instead of tucking themselves away right after finishing, they allowed each other a good and long uninterrupted view of their private parts.

"It's even hairier than I thought," Lasse commented.

"And yours isn't as small as you made it sound like. It's really nothing to be embarrassed of."

"How big does yours get? When it gets stiff and all?"

"A bit bigger. Just about 16.5 cm [6.5"]."

"You measured your peener?"

"The bit… My ex-girlfriend did that."

"When you had sex with her?"

"Yes. We were a bit drunk at the time."

"I haven't measured mine. But it doesn't really get any longer when it's stiff. Just a bit fatter."

"Still long enough to tug on. You don't need the length yet, kiddo. You won't be sticking it into anyone for a while to come."

"Sticking it… Like fucking?"

"Yes, though that's a quite vulgar word for it. Making love is the nicer expression for it."

"You've done that?"

"Of course. I'm 32. I had sex for the first time when I was 17, since then, there's been no stopping me. Well, not until three years ago."

"What happened?"

"Let's not go there now. I'll tell you some other time, just not right now, okay?"

"Okay. Was it nice? The sex?"

"Better than nice. Right, tuck yourself in, the show's over," Jim said and flushed the toilet.

"Aw," Lasse voiced his dissatisfaction but put his penis back inside of his yellow underpants and did up his zipper.

"What do you think of us stopping work for the day and go to your house?"

"What time is it?" Lasse asked, then remembered he had a watch of his own and was perfectly able to decipher the meaning of the analogue wristwatch, "It's almost four. I can have a quick shower and then I can show you how to play FIFA. We could play against each other or team up and play against some other people if you want?"

"Sure. And yes, you do need a shower. Your hair is almost white from the plaster. Next time, put one of the masks on top of your head too, they're probably large enough to cover your hair," Jim laughed and tousled Lasse's hair.

"Hey, cut it out. I spent a long time to get it to lay flat and now you're messing it up."

"Sorry, little man. Your hair's nice as it is. You look cute when that cowlick of yours stand out on at the back of your head."

"I've been asking my mum to cut it off forever and she won't do it. I've thought of doing it myself, but I don't want to make it any worse."

"Oh, no. Don't ever try to cut your hair on your own. Something like that won't end well, unless you use a hair trimmer. And then you'd be running around with a crew cut. You'd probably still look very cute and adorable, but it would make you look six or seven years old."

"Gah! No thanks. But I still want all of my hair to stay flat."

"Why not try another hair style? Wear it spiked instead. That way your cowlick wouldn't be the only hair sticking out like a sore thumb."

"Maybe. Let's go to my place now. I'm only allowed to play FIFA online between four thirty and five thirty. I'll shower, then we can play for an hour. Figure out what to eat and then just hang out in my room until my mum and dad returns."

"Do you have any homework you have to hand in tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but I did all of it already."

"Good boy. Then we have nothing to worry about, other than having as much fun we can until nine. Then I'll tuck you in. Maybe that'll be fun too, I haven't done that before."

***

They got in Jim's car though it was only a short trip to Lasse's house. Here, Lasse remembered what Jim had explained about love having a taste.

"Jim? You said kissing would leave a taste, but you said that more things could do that. What did you mean by that?"

"Oh, let's see, the words go will your mouth still remember the taste of my love. So he's singing about the woman's experience, so he could be referring to the taste of his sperm."

"What?"

"Yes. That's another way to have sex. Oral sex. The woman sucks on the man's prick and he licks her parts."

"Is that good?"

"Sure, if it wasn't, nobody would want to do it."

"What does sperm taste like?"

"I don't know. I've never sampled mine and I've never had sex with one of my own gender."

"Because it's gay?"

"Uh, no. Having sex with a guy wouldn't make me gay. It would just be for fun, kind of like an adventure. To be gay, I think, you'd have to only want to be with another guy and love him like someone would love a woman. Like wanting to get married and stuff."

Lasse's mind worked overtime while he tried to compute the information he had been given. Sex was an uncharted territory for the young boy, he hadn't heard much about it prior to meeting Jim and hadn't given it a whole lot of thought before then. The little tugging he had done on his stiff penis in the bathtub, when he was soaking in it alone, had felt nice but he hadn't thought of it as being a sexual act. It had been like scratching an itch until it stopped itching. Nothing more. And he had only tugged on it, he had never properly wanked.

While he was still busy thinking, he absentmindedly unlocked the front door to his house, quickly walked to the keypad and dapped in the four digits of the pin code to disable the alarm. The low warning beeps stopped immediately when he pushed the proper key.

"You can come on in now. The alarm's off."

"Thanks," Jim said and pushed his safety shoes off of his feet in the entranceway.

"My room's this way. It's a little messy since I didn't know I'd be having visitors."

"It can't possibly be any worse than my house, so don't worry about it."

***

"Make yourself comfortable," Lasse said as if he had been years older, "I'll just take a right quick shower and be back before you know it."

"No need to hurry. It's only 4:14. Make sure to shampoo your hair real well, the plaster dust can get rather annoying if you don't get it all washed out," Jim explained to Lasse who by then was reaching into his closet.

"Okay. You can power up the Xbox so it'll be ready to play," Lasse said and took the first t-shirt and pair of undies he saw.

"Yeah, I'll figure it out."

"Cool," Lasse said over his shoulder and walked across the hallway to the bathroom. He shut the door to the bathroom but not his room.

Jim sat on Lasse's bed for a moment and heard the shower turn on.

If only I was a little fly on the wall in the bathroom right now, Jim thought and quickly dismissed it. That kind of thinking would only end up with him getting into all kinds of trouble. But having been able to study Lasse's young prick for more than a minute earlier in the day, had sparked an interest he thought had been quenched a long time ago.

***

Jim had been around the same age as Lasse was now, the last time he had ever peed over cross with his best friend at the time. He had done the stupidest thing he could've done, when he reached over to touch his friend's prick. He had gotten so close to it, he had felt the warmth radiating off of it, when his friend cried out and moved out of reach. He had still been peeing and the pee had went all over the toilet and onto the floor before he managed to cut it off.

"I'm not a fag!" He told Jim in an angry voice.

Neither was Jim, as he tried to explain his friend. He was only curious. The explanation wasn't enough to make things go back to what they had been, and Jim hadn't peed over cross with anyone after that. Not until he had done it with Lasse.

***

Lasse's peener looked the same as his friend's had back then, at least to Jim's recollection. It was all of six or maybe seven cm [2.3-2.75"] flaccid, about the same as Jim's little finger, certainly no bigger in circumference. It was a pale pink penis with a blue vein running all the way from where it attached to the hairless pubic mound to just below where the foreskin started. There it branched out into three smaller veins, two of which went around either side of the small penis and the smallest one carried on, almost to the very tip of the pointy foreskin.

The image of Lasse's penis had burnt itself into Jim's mind and he could still see it when he closed his eyes. He had seen it with a stream of pee gushing out from the end of the foreskin and he had seen it lay dormant just sticking out of the fly of Lasse's too snug jeans. There had been a drop of pee clinging to the tip when Lasse had tucked it back into his underpants.

That drop must have been absorbed by his bright yellow underpants.

Jim shook his head and reopened his eyes. This wasn't the proper time, nor place, to be reminiscing the events of the day. He made a promise to himself that he'd pull up the image again later in the evening and fantasize of what he'd do to the young boy's penis, when he was lying in his bed getting ready to sleep.

The Xbox was easy to make ready once he found out the power button was the circle with an X on it. Jim heard the fan spin up, then the disc drive. He found the remote for the TV underneath the t-shirt laying on the mattress next to him. There, he also discovered another piece of Lasse's clothing, a pair of light blue underpants. He powered on the TV and nearly fell off the bed when it roared at him.

EA Sports, my arse. Shit, Lasse. You'll ruin your hearing if you always play with the volume turned up so high.

He quickly adjusted the volume of the TV and sat back up. His hand brushed up against the underpants one more time and with a quick look at the still shut bathroom door he picked them up. They were almost unbelievable small in size, the elasticated waist couldn't have been more than 60 [c. 23.5"], maybe 62 cm [c. 24.4"], fully stretched out.

Jim could easily tell Lasse had been wearing the pair of underpants, there were signs both in the small pouch at the front of them, as well as in the seat at the rear. They weren't soiled as such, only a little slight discoloured spot at the front showed where the tip of Lasse's penis had been. No doubt, it was a little pee stain. At the rear, two small and almost parallel darkish brown skid marks indicated where the too tight jeans had pushed the seat of the underpants right up against the young boy's butthole.

Jim could hear the shower was still on, and he quickly took a sniff at the underpants.

They smell like used underpants. It's Lasse's smell so it isn't disgusting. Not in the least, Jim thought and pushed his nose further into the underwear to take in as much of the intriguing smell as he possible could.

***

Jim was contemplating if he could get away with pocketing the underwear, so he could use them later while he wanked, when he heard a quiet gasp from the doorway.

Immediately he noticed three things. The sound of running water had stopped, the door to the bathroom was open and letting out saturated warm air, and Lasse was watching him with a bewildered look on his face.

"Are you licking at my undies?"

"Uh," Jim stalled for time and could feel the heat spread out over his face, "Yes," he admitted. It would've been no use denying it, the evidence was right there to both be seen and felt. His tongue had left two rather wet spots in the underwear, one in front and the other in the rear.

"Oh-my-gosh! Why would you do that?"

"They gave off your smell. And uh, your taste," Jim explained shamefully.

Chapter 12

Lasse was shocked. He hadn't expected to see Jim sitting on his bed wearing his underpants like they were some kind of mask and lick at the stained fabric. He had been repulsed by the sight of the skid marks, and ashamed, which was why he had put them under his t-shirt that morning. He had hoped his mum would've just picked up the t-shirt, and the underpants with it, without noticing the brown marks. Evidently, his mum hadn't picked up his dirty clothing that morning, or Jim wouldn't have found them.

Lasse cocked his head to one side, while he contemplated the situation.

He didn't mock me for crapping my pants! He licked at them.

"What's it taste like?" He wondered out loud.

"Uh. Like you."

"Not like poo?"

"Well, sure, a little but not bad. I knew it was your poo, and there was only a tiny little bit of it. Not enough to make it taste disgusting."

Had Lasse been a more conning boy, he would have been able to blackmail Jim for pretty much whatever he wanted. What the man had been doing to his underpants was wrong, that much Lasse knew, though no one had told him. Neither had anyone told him what to do if he ever found anyone licking at skid marks in his underwear. Jim was however Lasse's friend. And not just a friend, but a cool friend. An adult friend, who owned his own house, though it wasn't quite inhabitable at the time. He also owned a car, though it sure wasn't the Batmobile.

"If you ever tell my mum I crapped my pants, I won't be your friend anymore," Lasse finally said.

"You didn't crap your pants, your jeans made them ride up against your bum and that's how they got dirtied," Jim said, feeling mightily relieved that Lasse didn't worry about more than a minor detail like that.

"Well, just don't tell her. Then I won't tell her you licked them."

"Tell you what, why don't I just take them with me when I leave tonight? She'll never see them again."

"Okay. Let's play FIFA now."

***

"Jim?" Lasse asked right after passing the ball to the man.

"Yes?"

"Was that like a taste of love too? You know, my crappy undies?"

"Could be. I like you a whole lot, kiddo. You've truly knocked down the door to my heart and I think about you a lot when we're not together."

"You love me?"

"Here, go for the goal, you're free. And yes. I do think I've fallen in love with you."

Lasse took the shot at the goal and didn't get too worked up when the ball went wide. He only put down the controller on the bed next to him and turned a bit sideways to look up at Jim's face.

"How do you know? That you love me?"

"It's hard to explain. I get all giddy whenever I see you smile. I just want to sweep you off your feet and cuddle you, and kiss you and a lot of other things."

"Oh. That sounds nice, I guess."

"Do you mind? If it bothers you, I'll try to keep myself under control."

"I'm not sure. I've never heard anyone tell me they're in love with me."

"How does it make you feel?"

"It's kinda cool, but very frightening too."

"Because it's something you haven't experienced before?"

"Uh-huh."

"It's probably for the better if we try to forget that I told you I love you."

"Why?"

"If we don't, it would likely proceed to the next level."

"Next level? Like a video game?"

"Only in real life, but yes."

"What's the next level? Kissing?"

"Yeah. Cuddles and kisses. From there, it would only build up."

"Like… Sex?"

"Yes. Eventually," Jim said in a gentle, low voice, "though, we would be making love, not having sex."

"I might like that. It could be nice and fun?"

"It could also be painful. If anyone were to find out about it, a lot of bad things would happen to both of us."

"Oh. I can keep secrets, you know that."

"I do. But this would be a really big secret. One you could never tell anyone, even if you'd rather the entire world knew about it."

"Why would I want anyone to know me and you were kissing?"

"Because, it might mean you'd want to spend all of your time with me. If you fall in love with me, or anyone really, you'd only want to be with me. Nothing else would matter. And that can't ever happen. You'll have to go to school just like usual and spend time with your parents. And when I go back to work, we may only be able to spend a little time together on the weekends."

"I already want to spend all my time with you. My mum knows it too."

"Yes, but for a very different reason."

"So, you're saying we won't kiss and cuddle," Lasse said and looked away from Jim. For a strange reason the realization almost made him want to cry.

"I do want to. All, I'm saying is we'd have to be extremely careful. We'd have to behave differently when we're with other people. Pretend like we aren't in love, but only friends. It will be difficult. Extremely difficult."

"Can we try it first? Maybe we won't even like it when we kiss and cuddle and then we would've gotten all worked up for nothing."

"We can if you want to. I'm prepared to take my chances. Are you?"

Lasse gulped. Then turned his head back and smiled up at Jim.

"Yeah. Only, you gotta brush your teeth first. I don't want to burn my tongue."

"Okay, kiddo," Jim laughed and tousled Lasse's still damp hair.

"Will you show me how to spike my hair after?"

"Sure. Let's go brush our teeth, so we're all prepared for our first kiss."

***

Lasse brushed his teeth first, then let Jim use his toothbrush so he could brush his. He would never have thought he'd allow anyone to brush their teeth with his toothbrush, but since they'd soon be kissing anyway, he figured it didn't matter too much. He still made sure Jim rinsed the brush real well after he had finished brushing his teeth.

Jim tested his breath by cupping a hand in front of his mouth and breathed out into it. All he could smell was the fresh smell of mint.

"I'm all good to go now, Lasse."

"Okay, let's sit on my bed then."

"Do you really, really want to do this?"

"Yes, don't you?"

"I do. It's the last chance to back out, you won't hurt my feelings if you tell me you'd rather not do it."

"Don't be silly. Come on, show me what it's like to kiss. Teach me how to do it proper, like you taught me all of those things I did in your house."

"Alright, beautiful. Go on, sit on the bed."

Lasse scrunched his nose up in disgust at the much too mushy word Jim had said, and objected to it.

"I'm not a girl, Jim!"

"Pretend to be one for me. I'll teach you how a man kisses his girl. Then you can take over and show me if you've got it right."

"Fine, whatever."

"Aw, Lasse. Don't get upset now. Here, look at me. Tilt your head back a little more. That's it, pucker up your lips."

Lasse did as he had done every time his mum asked for a kiss when he was younger. It had been quite some time since the last kiss and he had objected to it afterwards. He had told his mum he wasn't a little boy any longer and she had accepted it. Hugged in a tight embrace by the much older man Lasse was back to being the little boy. He struggled for a brief moment against being kissed, but soon surrendered to the stronger and much more experienced man.

"That's it, Lasse. Just relax and do what feels natural," Jim said soothingly and placed his lips on top of Lasse's smaller ones. He kept them there for much longer than Lasse's mum had ever done, and when Lasse tried to move his head back, Jim increased the pressure at the back of his head, preventing any movement at all.

Lasse was overwhelmed by the feeling, he wasn't sure if it felt nice or bad to be kissed by Jim. Since he couldn't do anything to stop it, he surrendered again and let his tensed body relax. When Jim shut his eyes, Lasse closed his too. He could feel Jim breathe through his nose, the air warmed his cheek, and he began breathing too. Quite rapidly at first as he had held his breath.

When Jim could tell Lasse was ready, when the young boy's rapid breathing had slowed down, he pushed the very tip of his tongue out past his lips and licked at Lasse's. He sought out the ridge in between Lasse's lips and licked the boy right there. He kept it up until Lasse got the idea and relaxed his lips. Jim pushed his tongue further out and into Lasse's mouth and right up against his front teeth. The boy needed a bit of encouragement to relax his jaw muscles, so the tongue could move further inside.

Jim placed his free thumb at the small cleft in the boy's chin and gently applied a little downwards pressure on it. Lasse opened his mouth just enough.

"Whatever you do, don't bite down," Jim quickly warned Lasse without moving his lips away from the boy. He slowly pushed his tongue past the pearly white teeth, still sharp as only young recently erupted teeth can be, and searched for Lasse's tongue.

Lasse didn't bite down, instead he relaxed his jaw even more when the velvety-smooth tip of Jim's tongue touched the end of his. Tentatively he firmed up his tongue and pushed back at it. He tried to push it right back out of his mouth but Jim just moved his tongue to one side so it slid past it. Lasse almost folded his tongue over to get the tip back to the tip of Jim's which was licking at his upper rearmost tooth. When he managed to catch up with it, Jim moved his tongue over to the other side.

Oh no, you don't! Lasse thought and quickly tried to intercept the probing slippery thing. They played the game of cat and mouse for a time, and slowly Jim retreated from the boy's mouth. Lasse didn't notice it at first, but he kept up the pursuit of Jim's tongue until his own was well inside the man's mouth. He explored the unknown surroundings, much like Jim had explored his mouth. Eventually, after a seven minutes long kiss, Lasse pulled his tongue back inside his mouth, closed it and quickly swallowed.

Jim pulled away from the boy and smiled at him.

"How was that?" he asked.

"Weird. Really strange, at first it was kind of revolting, but it was fun play fighting with your tongue."

"So, now, I guess you know what my love tastes like. Some of it anyway."

"Yeah. I think I want to taste it again. Just to make sure I won't forget it."

"Your wish is my command," Jim said and kissed Lasse again. This time, Lasse didn't try to resist, his mouth already open, awaiting.

Chapter 13

"As much as I love kissing your hot little mouth, Lasse, it's about time we think of something to eat. Your spittle is very tasty, but my stomach wants something a bit more solid," Jim said. He was lying on his back on Lasse's bed with the boy on top of him and they had kissed for almost an hour.

"You aren't grossed out knowing you've swallowed a lot of my spit?" Lasse asked and looked into Jim's eyes.

"No. Remember, I licked at your poo stained undies and I enjoyed that?"

"That's still so very gross! I won't ever lick yours."

"You're in luck, I don't stain my undies."

"Never?"

"Never."

Lasse found it hard to believe. No matter how well he wiped himself, sometimes using up what seemed like half of the roll of toilet paper, somehow he still ended up staining his undies. Not as much as the pair, Jim had stuck into the deep thigh pocket of his work shorts, but nevertheless.

"Someday you have to show me how you manage that."

"It's not a big secret. Every time you go for a pee, you just quickly wipe your butt."

"Ah. I'll have to try to remember that."

"If you do, I'll have to start licking your butt instead of your undies."

"What?" Lasse laughed.

"Yes. Well, if you ever decide you want to move up through the levels."

"You're serious? You'd want to lick my bum?"

"I did it to some of my girlfriends and they really enjoyed it. So I don't see why you wouldn't like it too. There's a lot of nerve endings in your butthole."

"Did they ever lick your bum?"

"No, one tried to stick her finger in it, but I didn't want that. It felt nice when she just massaged the outside of my hole, however."

"Why would she stick her finger in your bum?"

"Well, she thought it was only fair since I enjoyed sticking my prick in hers."

"You fucked a girl in her bum? With your huge thang?"

"Yes, and not just one."

"Didn't it hurt them? Wasn't it messy?"

"No and no. A little messy some times, but mostly, it was quite clean when it came back out."

"Is that something you want to do to me? Stick it in my bum?"

"I'd love to. But it's like level 10 stuff. Right now, we're only at level 1. It'll take a long time before we'll ever do something like that."

"Good," Lasse said and felt mightily relieved. He hadn't yet seen Jim's prick hard, but he had felt it underneath him while they kissed. And it felt huge to the young boy. Even more so after he had been told where Jim wanted to stick it.

My bum hole seems so small in comparison. But, if Jim says it's possible and it won't hurt, then it must be so. I'll let him do it if he's serious about wanting to. Everything else we've done so far has turned out to be right cool.

"There's lots of things we can do to and for each other, Lasse. I wanted to do them with my friend when I was your age, but he didn't want to. I'd love to try everything we can dream up at least once with you. Then we can decide if we want to do it again."

"Okay. That's a plan," Lasse agreed. He was feeling quite adventurous and about ready to accept anything right there and then.

I'll have to do a search on the Internet to find out what can be done between two males, Jim thought, then I'll do them with Lasse. Nothing too extreme, at least not at first. Damn, I really love the little bugger.

"I love you, Lasse. My sweet little lover boy and expert kisser."

Lasse blushed at the words, "I'm not an expert. You are."

"Not when it comes to loving a little boy. But, we can become experts together."

"I like the sound of that. So, uhm, what do you want to eat?"

"Let's see if we can find something in your parents' freezer."

"Okay, it's in the utility room," Lasse said, got up and left his room.

"Aren't you getting dressed?"

"Why? I'd only have to take it off again for bed anyway," Jim heard Lasse's muted voice from the hallway.

"You have a valid point," Jim said in a loud voice and got up from the bed to catch up with the boy, but it'll be damned near impossible to resist the temptation of your slim little body only clad in a t-shirt and tight undies.

"Hmm, how about fish and chips? It'll be quick and easy to cook," Jim suggested when he had a look at the frozen foodstuff available to them.

"Yeah. I'd like that. I even know how to cook it on my own."

"Well, you're not doing that tonight. We'll be cooking together."

***

After dinner, Jim went with Lasse to the bathroom where they stood in front of the mirror.

"I have to make your hair wet again, Lasse. Why don't you take off your top, that way it won't get wet too."

"Uh. You'd see my scars then."

"So? I've already seen your prick, remember? Nothing you have to show will scare me after seeing that."

"My peener scared you?"

"I almost crapped myself when I saw it."

"As if! Alright. But, don't say anything about how bad you think the scars look, okay?"

"I swear."

Lasse quickly pulled the t-shirt up and over his head then quickly moved both hands in front of his chest and covered up his scars before Jim had a chance to see them.

"Move your hands, Lasse. Let me see."

Lasse sighed and slowly moved his hands away. He grabbed hold of the edge of the sink when he saw Jim's hand approach his chest.

"Is this what you're terrified of other people seeing? Lasse! It doesn't look scary or revolting at all. It's like it's only been painted onto your chest."

"I don't like seeing it."

"Well, it doesn't look or feel bad at all. It's real smooth. Like the rest of you."

"It kinda feels nice when you do that."

"This? I'll bet if I do this it'll feel even better," Jim said and stopped the gentle strokes of the scar. He moved his fingers over to Lasse's right nipple and teased it with his short fingernail.

"Tickles," Lasse wriggled his body in an attempt to stop Jim from touching his nipple.

"Oh, that wasn't my intention. How about this then?"

Jim pinched the small nipple between his thumb and index finger. He made sure to keep the pinching very light, and when the nipple stood as firm as it could, he began rolling it between his fingers.

"Ooh, that's better. Uhm, if you keep doing it, my peener will get stiff I think."

"I know, that's why I'm doing it."

"I thought you were going to spike my hair?"

"I will, after I've spiked your prick."

"That's funny!"

"Well, we're quickly running out of time. Your parents may come home earlier than your mam said, so…" Jim said and reached around the boy with his left hand. While he kept petting Lasse's nipple, he pushed his left hand right into the boy's underpants and gently felt up what he found in there.

"Jim!"

"What?"

"You're touching my peener!"

"Yes, I do believe so."

"That's a bad touch."

"You sure seem to like it though," Jim grinned at the boy in the mirror when he felt the small penis respond.

"It's still a bad touch."

"Did they teach you so in school?"

"Yes."

"Did they say anything about it only being bad if you don't want it?"

"Uh. No?"

"Remember what I told you about sex when you first asked? That it's against the law if you have sex before you're fifteen?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, this is one type of sex. It's also level 2."

"Oh. It's a bad touch, but it feels so sick when you do it."

"Cool or uncool?" Jim asked, not sure if he interpreted what he heard correctly.

"Way cool. For sure."

"As long as you think that, it can't be bad touching. Let's say I was someone else, someone you didn't know and I did the same and you didn't want me to, then it would bad touching," Jim said and with a firmer hold of the little ultra-stiff prick he pushed down the foreskin and bared the glans.

Lasse gasped out when he felt his foreskin slide all the way down. His peener felt stiffer than it had ever been before.

"You're right, it doesn't get much bigger when it's stiff. But it does get really hard."

"Sorry. I told you so."

"It's okay. I like it a lot, just like I like you a whole lot," Jim reassured Lasse and kissed the top of his head.

"Can I see yours? It's all stiff too isn't it? I can feel it poke at my back."

"Okay. But only for a moment. We can play for real with our stiffies some other time when we know for certain how long we have to play."

"'K," Lasse agreed and watched as Jim pulled out his hand from his underpants. His peener was still stiff and pushed out the front of it.

It wasn't anything compared to the tent Jim had inside his work shorts. He quickly unzipped them and pulled out his hard-on for Lasse to see.

"Man, it's freaking huge. Will it really fit into my bum without hurting?"

"Yes. Maybe not all of it, not at first, but some of it will fit inside. We just have to properly prepare you for it. But it won't happen for a long time."

"Not until level 10."

"No, that's right."

"But we're already at level 2. That only took like 2 hours."

"Just like in a video game, the levels get harder and take longer. It'll happen soon enough."

"Okay."

"Want to touch mine? Like I touched yours?"

"Uh-huh."

"Go ahead, I'll wet down your hair while you explore."

"Your balls are bloody huge too."

"Yes, that's what my girlfriends have told me too. Just be real gentle with them, no tugging on my balls."

"Right."

***

"There we go. Your hair should be about this wet when you finish towelling it off after a shower," Jim said and Lasse turned around to watch the mirror, "Now you simply push your fingers in from the sides and run them upwards like this. Or, you can do it like this," Jim explained and went about styling Lasse's hair into a fairly long spiked hairdo.

"Will it stay like that when my hair dries?"

"Probably not, it's a bit too long. If you had about two or three cm [c. 1"] cut off, it would be real easy. For now, you'll need to use some kind of hair wax or hair spray to keep it in place. Or you can just let it dry and let it stay tousled up, it'll make you look super cool."

"Long as the antenna will be hidden."

"It should."

"Cool. Thanks, Jim."

"My pleasure. It's nearly a quarter to nine, brush your teeth and get ready for bed. What do you wear for bed?"

"Just a t-shirt and my undies."

"Oh. No pyjamas?"

"I haven't slept in a pyjamas since I was like five."

"Sorry. I slept in my undies, too, until I was 14 then I switched to sleeping naked."

"In the buff?"

"Yep. All natural, nothing like it."

"I don't think I want to do that. If I wake up in the night and go to pee, mum or dad might see me naked."

"What a disaster that would be! Anyhow, get ready for bed."

"Okay, okay. Do you want to watch me pee again?"

"Nah, some other time. I'll go clean up the kitchen, I promised your mam I'd clean up after us."

***

"Try to go right to sleep now, tomorrow is Monday and you need to be all rested when you go to school," Jim said and kissed Lasse on his lips.

Lasse quickly moved his arms out from under the covers and snaked them around Jim's neck. He held onto him and kissed him again, this time somewhat longer and slipped his tongue inside the man's mouth.

"Your love tastes like fish'n'chips now," Lasse whispered and smiled.

"Next time, it'll taste differently. Now, close your eyes and relax. That's good. Breathe slowly in through your nose and slowly let it back out your mouth. In… and out. In, all the way deep into your belly, and out. Sleep well, Lasse. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Jim. 'Night."

Jim got up from the bed and walked to the door where he took one last look at Lasse before he gently shut the door. He went to the living room and turned on the TV, and waited for Hilda and Dennis to come home. It wasn't long he watched the news channel until he heard their car pull into the driveway.

"So, did everything work out okay?" Hilda asked quietly.

"Yes, Lasse got a little sad about not being able to buy a heart, but when I explained why it isn't possible, he just sort of said okay. He was more upset about how he now has a lot of money he doesn't know how to spend. I told him to really consider it before he spends all of it on something he'll only use a couple of times."

"He didn't pull a tantrum of not being able to become a professional football player?" Dennis asked disbelievingly.

"Not at all. He already knew it would be nearly impossible, even if he had been born with a healthy heart."

"That's great. See, Hilda? I told you Jim here would be a good friend for Lasse to have."

"You did. You've gotten off to a good start, Jim. But it's a long race before you reach the finish line."

"Yes, I know. I'm sure you'll keep me on my toes at all time. I won't let you down, nor will I let Lasse down. I really do like your kid, you've brought him up well. He reminds me a lot of what I was like at his age."

"Do you want a beer, Jim?"

"No, thank you, Dennis. I have to get home. I want to go to bed early tonight."

"Lasse wore you out, didn't he?"

"You could say that, but I had a nice time with him."

"Is that so? Say, would you be able to take him to the hospital tomorrow after lunch?"

"Dennis!"

"What, Hilda? If Jim picks up Lasse from school and takes him to exercise, then I'll be able to sleep for a bit longer and Jens will be able to leave work on time. He wouldn't have to cover half an hour for me. You know I'm on the second shift starting tomorrow."

"Uh, how long does he exercise and at which hospital?" Jim asked.

"It's only for about an hour. It's the local hospital in Frederikssund," Dennis quickly explained.

"Oh, that's not too far from here. I can take him. Does he have to go back to school afterwards?"

"No. You can take him home with you. I won't be home until around 5 o'clock," Hilda said, "I'll call the hospital in the morning and tell them to expect you and not Dennis."

"Okay. What time does he have to be at the hospital? When do I pick him up from school?"

"He'll be at the front entrance to the school at 12:30, he needs to be ready in the gym at the hospital at one o'clock. It'll end at two, maybe a bit sooner, depending on what kids are there. Some can't exercise as much as others and then they usually end it early so no one will feel left out."

"I see. I'll make sure he'll be there on time."

"Great. Well, if you really don't want that beer, then…"

"I'll pass on it tonight."

"Fair enough. Drive safely."

"Always. I sure wouldn't want you giving me any tickets. Talk to you soon."

"See you."

Chapter 14

"Hi Jim!" Lasse said when he got into the green, non-Batmobile, car of Jim's.

"Hey, cutie pie. How was your day?"

"Better since I knew you'd be picking me up. I thought we weren't going to see each other again so soon."

"I know. Your pop asked me if I'd take you, so he could sleep some more."

"Yeah, he always likes to sleep just before going to work. He's a cop."

"I know. I saw him in uniform, when I had dinner with you and your folks."

"Oh yeah, heh, yup you did. Do you know where the hospital is?"

"Yes. I've been there before."

"Dang. I hoped you'd say no so I could lead you astray."

"Now why would you do such a thing?"

"To find a place where we could kiss, maybe?"

"You liked it so much, huh?"

"Yeah. It's nice. It's better than the physical exercise thing you're taking me to, that's for sure."

"You need to stay in shape. I don't want my pretty lover boy to get all fat and ugly."

"Aw, Jim! Quit it!" Lasse squirmed in the bucket seat.

"What? You are my secret lover boy, aren't you?"

Lasse scrunched up his nose.

"Don't do that, Lasse. But okay then, you do like me, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"You like me lots?"

"A whole lot."

"So, would you say that you love me then?"

"Uh-huh."

"What's wrong with me loving you so much I just have to call you my pretty lover boy, then?"

"It's all so mushy and…"

"Does it make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Yes!"

"Well, too bad, Lasse. In my eyes you are a cute boy, a pretty boy, an adorable boy, a drop-dead gorgeous and sexy boy. And I love making you blush so sweetly, so innocently and watch how you squirm in your seat."

"I don't like when you call me all those things."

"But to me, you are all that and so much more."

"Ack!"

"Don't tell me to stop calling you what I think you are. I'll keep doing it until you realize I'm right," Jim said and moved his right hand from the steering wheel and placed it on top of Lasse's thigh. He squeezed it reassuringly, "I'm not being sarcastic when I tell you how I think you're the most beautiful creature on the planet. I'm not saying it just because I want to persuade you to do things you really don't want to. Who cares if the words I use to describe you could also be used to describe a woman or a girl? I won't ever use them when anyone else can hear me, but you."

"You think I look like a girl?"

"You're a cute boy, so yes, you look a little like a girl, I guess," Jim replied truthfully, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Gah!" Lasse said and punched his fist right into Jim's upper arm.

"Ow! Why, you little… I know you're a boy. I've seen your peener. But you're as beautiful as any woman I've been dating. Even more so."

"Please."

Jim finally got the picture of having tried to push things too quickly for Lasse's comfort. He truly meant every word he had said about Lasse being as beautiful as a girl, but decided to back off, at least somewhat, for the time being.

"Okay, then. You're the most handsome boy, I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Is that better?" He asked the still blushing boy.

"Lots."

"Good. Now, save your strength for the gym."

"Then stop calling me all those things I'm not. I'm just a puny kid."

"Not to me and I'll show you later."

"How?"

"You'll see."

***

Lasse left his schoolbag in Jim's car and only took the cloth shopping bag with him into the hospital. In the bag, he had a water bottle, a pair of indoor trainers, a pair of knee-length shorts and a t-shirt, and a towel. He knew where to go, which Jim didn't, and he led the man like an eager puppy through the corridors and down the stairs until they ended up in the small locker room outside the hospital's gym.

"You don't have to stay," he told Jim when he pushed his jeans down. He quickly tugged his underwear back up in place as they weren't alone. There were other kids including girls, and their parents, in the locker room getting changed like he was.

"If you don't want me to, I won't. But I don't mind," Jim said. He kept his eyes on Lasse, he wasn't in the least interested in watching the other kids in various stages of getting changed into their training kits.

"If you go in with me, you have to put those blue things over your shoes. They're over there, by the door."

"Okay," Jim went to fetch two of the protective plastic shoe covers Lasse had pointed out to him.

Lasse didn't look at the other kids, either. He only wanted to get the exercising over and done with and leave the hospital again. It was boring and tiring to do the exercises the instructors demanded he'd do. It was repetitive, always starting out with 10 minutes of riding an exercise bike, slowly at first, then picking up speed as his muscles warmed up. After that, he'd use a series of exercising equipment, training the muscles in his lower body, then upper body.

That is, if none of the other kids wimped out. If anyone did, they were all ordered back on the bikes to cool down, before the class was dismissed and he could wipe the sweat from his face and get changed back into his clothes and leave.

This time it was no different than the other times. The three instructors, all young and energetic women, introduced themselves to the new group of kids and told them to choose a bike and wait for instructions. Lasse went to the bike he had always used and punched the keys to select the warm-up program. He adjusted the time from the pre-set 15 minutes to 10 and started. Almost immediately one of the women came to see if he had done it right.

"It's not my first time here," Lasse explained in a flat voice when she told him he could continue.

"You could use a lesson in good manners," Jim said after the instructor left to help another kid.

"Why? I only told her I've done it before and know what I'm doing."

"You could have said it in a more polite way. She doesn't know you, yet."

"I don't care. I hate having to do this," Lasse stated, "with them," he said quietly and gestured to the other kids in the gym.

"Focus on your own training. You don't have to watch them if they make you feel uncomfortable."

"It's not that. Uh, can we talk later? It's getting a little hard to talk now."

"Yeah. Want me to go sit with the other adults?"

"No. You can stay. If you want to. Just don't make me talk. Okay?"

"Gotcha. Don't try to overdo it. It's been a while since your last exercise if you haven't been exercising at all this summer."

"I know."

"Good boy."

***

Jim stood behind Lasse and watched him and the other kids in silence while they warmed up. He watched Lasse's heart rate increase from 74 bpm to 137 bpm before the bike finally ended the program. Lasse didn't get off the bike right away, he sat in the saddle, gasping for air.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked and immediately stepped right up next to him.

Lasse nodded, took a couple of deep breaths and got off the bike. He stood next to it, holding on to the saddle for support for a moment and then took a quick drink from his bottle.

"I forgot how bad it makes me feel," he confessed to Jim, "But I'm okay now. Want to watch me do leg presses? I can do 50 kilos [110 lbs.]"

"I'd rather watch your squats. If you do that here?"

"Yeah, we do them with a ball behind our back up against the wall. No weights."

"Oh! If your butt is up against the wall, it won't be interesting to watch."

Lasse chortled from laughter, despite still feeling a bit winded.

"You think my bum is cute, too?" He whispered.

"Very. Okay, let me see those leg presses. No way, you can do 50 kilos. That's like twice of what you weigh."

"I can too. At least I could before the summer. Maybe not now."

"Well, don't overdo it today, I don't want you to sprain a muscle. There's no need for you to impress me. I already like you a whole lot."

***

Unfortunately for Lasse he never got the chance of showing off to Jim. The instructor, who had checked if he had programmed the exercise bike correctly, watched him like a hawk for the rest of the class. Her presence put a dampener on the boy and he only did what she asked him to do.

"You did good, kiddo," Jim praised him when they were in his car headed for his house.

"Thanks. I feel all worn out now."

"Would you rather go home than to my place?"

"No. I'll be fine. I can drill some more of those holes for you, if you want me to?"

"Nah. There are no more holes to be drilled, not yet. I've been busy installing insulation in the attic and crawl space all morning. I found out I can make the upstairs quite a bit bigger than I originally thought. So, there'll be room for a sizable Jacuzzi in my new bathroom. One we'd both fit into without problems."

"At the same time?"

"Yep. Speaking of baths, you sure could use one right now."

"Sorry, but I do sweat when I exercise."

"I know. I don't mind it. You don't really stink yet."

"Doesn't matter anyway. You don't have a bath in your house."

"I have a garden hose though."

"It's too cold for that today."

"It is a bit nippy, I hope it isn't the beginning of autumn we can feel so soon. It isn't even September yet. I haven't checked the heating in the house at all."

"You better have heating or I won't be coming over in the winter."

"Then I'll have to check it soon. I won't live through winter if you won't visit me. Anyway, maybe it would be better if we go to your house. Do you think your pop has left for work yet?"

"It's almost half past two," Lasse said after he checked the time, "He should be halfway to work by now."

"Good. Your mam won't be home until five. You can have a very long bath to loosen up your muscles and I'll wash your back for you."

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