They let him go. The solicitor said it was unusual. They didn’t impose any bail conditions, didn’t tell him he couldn’t contact Lukas, who was his ‘victim’ apparently. They simply said he could go, on his own recognizance, though he had to agree to appear at the committal hearing.

Mr Sorensen was waiting for him when they led him out.

Matthew felt ill. He supposed it was eleven, or eleven-thirty, and he hadn’t taken his tablets today. He only had five left. After wasting five on Lukas yesterday, today would be the last day he could take any, though he supposed he ought to take two today, two tomorrow, and one the day afterwards, to help with weaning himself off them, but he couldn’t stand the idea. He felt like shit. Felt sick in the stomach, and dizzy, and he was scratching again, scratching his arms and chest.

When he saw Mr Sorensen, in the waiting room, his eyes were watering. He had had to squash his gear into the tight jeans. Into his tightest jockstrap, and his tightest jeans. The head of his cock was swollen and black. His balls were swollen, and tender, and now he had all of it, squashed up in the tight jeans, and still, despite the pain, his cock was trying to be erect, which was just making all of it worse.

Mr Sorensen put his hand on Matthew’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything. He supposed Matthew was crying. He must have supposed that, because he simply put his hand on Matthew’s shoulder, protectively, and led him out to the carpark, to the car.

Matthew sat down, feeling as though he had never felt such pain. When he got home, when he had taken the tablets, he would stay upstairs, and bolt the door, and take his clothes off, and maybe even have a bath.

McCady was nowhere to be seen. They drove home without her, and Matthew supposed she must have taken a taxi. It had taken an hour or so, between the court case, and when they let him go. Mr Sorensen had waited, but she had gone home. She was probably cooking lunch.

And what about Lukas?

Matthew wanted to ask, but he was afraid of saying anything.

When they got home, and pulled into the garage, Mr Sorensen said he would like to speak to Matthew, if Matthew could spare the time now.

Matthew nodded, and they walked upstairs together, to Mr Sorensen’s study. The last time he had been here, Matthew had seen the alcove behind the bookshelf, Mr Sorensen’s fetish wardrobe.

‘What happened Matthew?’ Mr Sorensen said, saying it like it was something he couldn’t believe, like it was something that would have to be explained to him.

Matthew shrugged. There were tears in his eyes, from the pain in his groin, and he knew he might cry in earnest.

Mr Sorensen waited.

‘I don’t know. I was looking for him. I went downstairs, and there was…’

‘He says he did it himself.’

A sob burst out of Matthew. He put his head in his hands and sobbed. Lukas. Did Lukas really say that?

‘Is he alright?’

‘No, Matthew. No. He’s not alright. He’s mutilated himself. Do you have any understanding, any reason why…?

Matthew shook his head. ‘He said he wanted to do it.’

‘What?’

‘He told me he wanted to. I told him he was being stupid.’

Matthew glanced at Mr Sorensen. He was nodding, grim faced, his lips between his teeth.

‘I didn’t think he really would.’

Matthew started sobbing again.

They were sitting on the chairs, by the fireplace, though there was no fire, of course. It wasn’t cold.

Mr Sorensen leaned forward and patted Matthew on the knee.

‘You’ve had a shock.’

Matthew nodded, and tried to get control of himself.

‘There was a policeman. At the watchhouse. He hit me. He hit me in the groin with his truncheon. He abused me.’

Mr Sorensen said nothing, though he started again, a moment later.

‘Do you know his name?’

‘Judd. They called him Judd.’

Mr Sorensen nodded. ‘Perhaps you ought to see a doctor. If there are bruises…?’

Matthew nodded.

‘I’ll arrange something.’

Matthew felt frightened suddenly. He didn’t know… Maybe… ‘I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t do anything about it. It doesn’t really matter.’

Mr Sorensen said nothing.

‘Can I see Lukas? Can I go and see him?’

Mr Sorensen frowned. ‘Perhaps you ought to leave it, just for the moment. I’m going to the hospital again, after lunch, but maybe you could go this evening, when you’ve calmed down a little. You don’t look at all well, and I wouldn’t like to think of you driving the way you are.’

‘Does he want to see me?’

‘Matthew. He’s told me, about the two of you. It came as something of a shock. I hadn’t ever thought. I mean, I knew he… I thought you were friends. But he tells me you’re going to England with him next year. He says you’re his boyfriend?’

It was definitely a question. Mr Sorensen didn’t believe it, obviously.

Matthew nodded.

He bit his lips, and started crying again. Would he really have to? Would he really have to go to England next year? And live with Lukas? Like he was Lukas’ boyfriend?

He felt humiliated, but there was nothing else he could say. He would have to do it, but still, it would be good to see Lukas with his groin all fucked up. It would be good to see Lukas like that, now that he didn’t have any… Or would it?

Matthew frowned.

And felt like he was going to vomit.

He needed to take the tablets.

He got up, without even asking to, and knowing that the conversation wasn’t ended.

‘Are you alright?’

Matthew shook his head.

Mr Sorensen stood up. He reached his arms out, and hugged Matthew suddenly. It was the last thing Matthew was expecting. Mr Sorensen pulled back, and held Matthew at arm’s length.

‘You know he said to me, when he first came out of the anesthetic, that you wanted him… He said that it was you who wanted to, and I even thought he meant that you’d… Anyway, it was a misunderstanding.’

Matthew nodded, wide-eyed, staring at Mr Sorensen.

‘I hope you’re going to stick by him, now that he… I mean…’

Matthew didn’t know what to say.

Mr Sorensen knew. He knew. From the way that he said it, from the look on his face, Matthew could tell that Mr Sorensen knew, that he knew Matthew had done it, that Matthew had wanted it. He didn’t understand it all. He couldn’t. But he knew enough to know that Lukas hadn’t done it on his own, not entirely and utterly on his own, and still, Mr Sorensen had paid for a solicitor, and got him out of trouble, and driven him home, and now he was asking Matthew, checking with Matthew, to make sure he wasn’t going to abandon Lukas.

Matthew turned away and walked out of the room. When he got to the door, at the end of the corridor, the door that led out of Mr Sorensen’s apartments, it was locked. He turned back, to go back the other way, to the back hall stairs, where they had come in, but Mr Sorensen had followed Matthew. He was approaching with his key.

‘I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, Matthew,’ he said, putting his hand on Matthew’s shoulder.

He unlocked the door.

When Matthew made it to his own bathroom, he vomited, finally, vomiting the sausages and eggs they had given him for breakfast, though Lukas’ penis, all of it, along with his balls, was now a part of Matthew, making up the very of his body.

Matthew scratched his arms and swayed. He fell against the tiled wall, and slid to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his head and told himself he shouldn’t, that he shouldn’t take the tablets, that he should flush them down the toilet.

He had done something… There wasn’t any word for it.

Still, though, in less than a minute, he had reached for the vanity drawer, pulled the bottle out, and poured the last of the tablets, all five of them, into his throat. He swallowed, not even worrying about water.

He stayed where he was, on the floor, with his knees against his chest, and his gear all crushed up between his legs, telling himself that he deserved it, that he deserved to feel the pain, though half an hour later, he was wearing Lukas’ leotard, and was admiring himself in the studio mirrors.