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Luca

I sat on one of the two chairs and watched the doctor examine Juri’s wrist. She seemed pleased and mentioned that the sprain was already healing very well, but all I could think about was how Juri and I had sex.

Though I still held onto the belief that I preferred to be a top rather than a bottom, Juri managed to make me enjoy lovemaking to the fullest every time.

Is it because he works as a callboy?

That made him a professional, yet I couldn’t let the fact sink in that he must have had sex with hundreds of men because of it. Well, I never asked him for an exact number, but from what I understood, he had been doing the job almost full-time for five or six years now.

I was just one of many. Nothing special, I guess.

It’s like with Matteo. We spend some time together and have a bit of fun, and once my project is finished, our paths will separate again.

Somehow, I was looking forward to the time afterward. Juri’s all-around care pushed me to my limits. At least sex came in handy. But secretly, I also liked having Juri around. It had become almost normal.

It had been almost a week since our first sex.

An exciting time with New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day in between.

Unfortunately, I had to work on New Year’s Eve, but at least Juri didn’t miss out on celebrating a bit.

While I was in training, he had a visit from Noé, who didn’t stay long.

Later in the evening, Clé, Sandro, and Kevin came over.

It seemed like they had a blast because when I came home early in the morning, there were plenty of empty beer and soda bottles in the kitchen, as well as an empty bottle of Ballantine’s.

After sleeping through New Year’s Day, the last two days had been all the more intense. As if we had a lot to catch up on, we had sex at least four times. We didn’t make love. It was raw and really rough sex.

The mere thought of how Juri had taken me on the couch yesterday caused my cock to twitch. He was like an animal. Insatiable and greedy. And me? I was just the same. To be honest, I couldn’t get enough of him. The guy was so sexy!

“Your foot is also well on its way to recovery,” the doctor said as she examined Juri’s ankle. “Have you tried to put weight on it yet?”

“Just a little,” Juri replied.

Our eyes met, and I had to smirk. Yes, he had made an effort not to put weight on the foot.

“I’ll give you the walking boot today. I’m confident that you’ll be back on your feet very quickly. But take it slow. Your foot needs to get used to it again and build up muscles.”

“Okay,” Juri said, sounding suspicious. “But can I do everything again?”

The doctor retrieved the walking splint from the cabinet and put it on him. “You’ll quickly notice where your limits are. Running could be difficult. And you should also be careful with stair climbing in the first few days.”

I observed the shock on his face. His complexion paled as if all the blood had drained from his head in an instant.

He swallowed hard, a clear sign that he wanted to leave.

He yearned to return to his normal life, away from the confines of my apartment.

The doctor, sensing his discomfort, attempted to offer reassurance.

“Move around. Climb a few stairs every day. You’ll notice the progress right away. But give your body the time it needs. If circumstances allow, I advise you to stay where you are for at least another week. You’re not mobile enough yet to live alone on the fourth floor.”

Juri pressed his lips together and nodded reluctantly.

“Alright,” the doctor said, stepping away from the examination table. “Then go ahead and stand up.”

Juri cautiously slid off the table onto his feet and assumed an upright posture as he shifted his weight onto both legs. When he put weight on the left foot, he grimaced.

“Do you have any pain?”

“No. It’s just unfamiliar. I feel like I’m lacking strength.”

“I’m not giving you crutches,” the doctor said as she sat back at her desk and typed something into the computer. “The sooner you start walking again on your own, the better. You’ll be fine.”

As we exited the hospital, Juri remained unusually silent.

Though he initially declined my assistance, he halted at the top of the first step leading to the street.

His eyes briefly flickered toward the wheelchair ramp, but he dismissed it with an irritated snort, opting for the stairs instead.

I stood ready to support him; I had witnessed the considerable effort it took for him to walk even a few steps.

While it took me only three minutes to exit, it had taken him a full ten minutes.

At least he wasn’t too proud to hold onto me this time. He slowly descended the three steps, becoming breathless just from that.

“This is …” Before I could praise him, he cut me off.

“Don’t say anything,” he snapped, breaking away from me again.

“Listen, I’m sorry if you were hoping to bounce back out of here, but look on the bright side. You can walk on your own again.”

“Do you seriously call this walking?”

Biting my lower lip, I stifled a laugh. As he turned around again and continued hobbling, I started moving too.

You can start practicing climbing stairs at home every day.

And now that you can stand again, perhaps you could even cook for me sometime.

You did work in a kitchen for a few months— in a Michelin-starred restaurant, no less.

I can handle unplugging the robot vacuum cleaner.

We also have a regular vacuum cleaner. If you're up for it, you could help clean the apartment.”

“Leave me alone.”

Feeling the need to lift his spirits, even though I wasn’t sure why, I couldn’t ignore the gloomy weather.

It was gray and drizzling, hardly the kind of day to feel upbeat.

Despite my home being just half a mile from the hospital, a journey I could make in about eight minutes, I felt relieved when the tram arrived.

The steep descent into the old town would have been too strenuous for Juri.

Nevertheless, we returned home shortly after noon.

Juri headed straight to his room, shutting the door behind him.

I’d never seen him in such a foul mood before.

Despite his penchant for wearing black, there was usually a warmth and affection in him that I appreciated.

His humor, although dry, had a dark charm to it that I found intriguing.

Well … no surprise there , I thought and went into my room.

For the past few days, I’d been busy making phone calls and sending countless emails to bars and nightclubs.

One night at Exil hardly covered my expenses.

Although my parents had the means to help out if needed, it was important to them—and to me—that I covered at least half of my expenses independently.

So when I found two offers for a trial night at each club in my inbox, I was overjoyed and called back immediately to set up the shifts.

I could already step in at the Olé-Olé-Bar tomorrow and at the Safari Bar next Wednesday.

That reassured me immensely because I had never failed a trial night.

If I could manage to coordinate the jobs, I might be able to fill up to four evenings. My mood suddenly skyrocketed.

I should take advantage of that.

After packing my things for training, I stepped out into the hallway and noticed there was no sound coming from Juri’s room. I went over and listened. Nothing.

“I’m going to training,” I said through the door.

“Mhm …” he replied, his tone muffled.

He was probably trying to distract himself again with the photo blog. So far, he had done quite well with that.

I felt dizzy as I stepped off the bus. Perhaps I should have grabbed a quick bite at home, but I preferred hitting the training session on an empty stomach. Dario had been advising against it for years, but old habits die hard.

“I told you, make sure you put on a few pounds,” he grumbled as he weighed me. “What else is Christmas good for? You lost three pounds and, as I can guess, you even came here with an empty stomach.”

“Alright,” I replied and got off the scale. “I’ll grab a kebab right after.”

Dario smacked his forehead in frustration. “You won’t make up for that with a kebab. God! Luca! What’s wrong with you? If you can’t help it, at least drink a protein shake before training.”

“Maybe it’s because of my new roommate. He’s keeping me quite busy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m playing housemaid for him. Cooking. Cleaning. Tidying up. Washing. I’m nursing an invalid. But don’t worry. Things will get better from today.”

Dario grimaced. “As if you could lose three pounds by doing extra housework. More movement means more eating. Especially for you. So get that through your head already. Do you still have any protein powder?”

“No. It’s all gone.”

“Since when?”

“For a few days? How should I know?”

Dario let out an exasperated grunt. “Then go and get some new ones! For heaven’s sake! Luca! How serious are you about this competition anyway?”

“Why are you so pissed off? It doesn’t matter if I get lighter. I can still fight in this weight class.”

Dario rolled his eyes. “Just listen to your coach and watch your calories!”

“Fine!” He was getting on my nerves. “Then I’ll just pick up a new hobby. Eating. Is that good for you?”

“Yes.” Dario didn’t sound particularly happy. “And if you’re already changing your hobbies, stop smoking already!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And now get into the ring.”

I was just glad when he brought out the mitts and we finally started. He almost managed to dampen my good mood, but after the first three punches, I found my rhythm and immersed myself in training.

Upon returning home in the late afternoon with two full grocery bags and an audibly grumbling stomach, I entered the kitchen to unpack the items from the paper bags. While engaged in this task, a faint noise emanated from the vicinity of Juri's room, which remained shut.

What’s going on?