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The ice cold wind chafed Skwisgaar’s red cheeks as he trekked through the empty streets of Lillehammer in the dead of night, braving the cold and hail for any opportunity to be out of the house while his mother was entertaining a few “visitors.”
Normally he was used to locking himself up in his dark closet with every pillow and blanket he owned piled on top of him, muffling whatever disgusting noises echoed in his house at night. But tonight his mother had brought home more men than usual and Skwisgaar would honestly rather die from frostbite than endure hearing whatever Serveta had planned for tonight.
Him and his mother had just moved to Lillehammer barely a month ago, but it seemed Serveta was already making a name for herself as the town’s cheapest and wildest whore, attracting the ire of housewives and holy men alike.
And though this newfound infamy guaranteed there would be a steady stream of customers daily, it did absolutely nothing to help her Swedish son adjust to his new life.
“Fuckings whore…” he muttered, shivering in his threadbare sweater and worn scarf. “Can’t fuckins keep it in hers pants for ones gotdamn night… fuckins bitch!” He swore, kicking at a stray tin can.
He scoffed, of course she wouldn’t remember what day it was. Why would she? And he was an even bigger fool for thinking that maybe just this once, Serveta would be sober or coherent enough to remember that on this day, 15 years ago, she ruined her body and consequently her life with the birth of one Skwisgaar Skwigelf… as he’d been told whenever she was drunk or high off her ass and lost whatever semblance of a filter she had.
And Skwisgaar was used to this, of course he was, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wallow in negative 10 degrees weather and feel sorry for himself, the unwanted bastard son of the town’s whore.
But his angst was intensified tenfold just wandering around Lillehammer, the disgusting Norwegian town Serveta deemed suitable after they were chased out of their little Swedish village by the wife of one of Serveta’s loyal customers, who just so happened to be a rather renowned politician.
Though on the exterior Norway was similar to Sweden in almost every regard, its traditions and people couldn’t be more foreign to him. He already struggled picking up the language, and he was just finally able to read his homework, but he was sure he still sounded like an idiot speaking.
The kids at school were merciless as kids won’t to be, and he’d become accustomed to the scathing remarks and shoves of the largest kid in his class, Olaf, who was built like an ogre and had the face to match.
And as shameful as it was to acknowledge, a small comfort of his was that he was not alone in his ridicule. There was another boy in his class who seemed to face even more scorn from fellow classmates. A scrawny kid named Toki who was apparently the son of a local religious nut who’d just moved into town a few months before Skwisgaar had.
As Skwisgaar contemplated his miserable life, he remembered just exactly why he thought - hoped - that against all odds Serveta would remember this birthday better than she had any previous one. She was the one who chose this godforsaken town, the least she could fucking do was learn at least a little bit about its rigid traditions her son would be subject to.
But as usual she didn’t spare a single thought for him, and Skwisgaar was forced to face the town’s absolutely ridiculous traditions alone and anxious.
Because apparently in Norway, or at least in this shitty remote part of it, it was the norm in small towns for young people coming of age to start a romance with someone of the same sex, to practice Odin knows what with, before reaching adulthood and marrying someone of the opposite sex.
And, just his luck, 15 was the lucky number and tomorrow all young people of age were expected to gather in the town hall for some kind of matchmaking ceremony.
Skwisgaar despised the mere thought of having to spend time with some dildo that’ll more than likely try (and maybe even fucking succeed at) hooking up with his slut of a mother. Just thinking about this cursed scenario made him want to puke his guts out.
“Just fucks dis shits…” he grumbled, his feet leading him to an empty park bench overlooking a frozen lake. He sat down and stared blankly out at the water, his thoughts racing a mile a minute but incomprehensible, leaving him with that perpetual emptiness in his chest.
He watched as dawn broke and heard the grating chirping of the early birds, all tell-tale signs Serveta’s guests would be long gone. He slowly stood up and began his trek back home.
All he could do was hope that whatever jack-off he ended up stuck with wasn’t a complete dildo.
***
Toki felt the lingering sting of his father’s belt as he finished stacking the logs in perfect symmetrical rows in the dead of night.
The Wartooths had originally come from a small village a few hundred miles north of Lillehammer with a population barely surpassing one hundred. The people of that village, unlike those in Lillehammer, embraced Reverend Wartooth’s radical teachings from the mysterious Christian God he spoke so highly of. Unfortunately, a majority of the village ended up dying from birth complications and syphilis.
As a result, the Reverend saw it fit to uproot his family and move to a bigger, busier town, where there was plenty of heathens for him to spread the word of the Lord to. However, what he didn’t expect was for the people of this town to be so weary of him and his God, and he often found the pulpits of his small church lacking in followers and, consequently, donations.
To top it all off, this town had an absurd tradition of encouraging same-sex relations among the young people, something that disgusted Reverend Wartooth to no end.
Tomorrow was the first day of the town’s annual matchmaking event and the Reverend had decided to take out his anger at this unholy tradition on his son, who was finally old enough to take part in the festivities.
Because, despite the tradition going against his beliefs, Reverend Wartooth knew the importance of gaining the trust of his community. If he wanted a platform for his religion in this new town, he needed his neighbors to trust him, and if it meant sacrificing his son’s salvation for the greater good he was more than willing.
And Toki never really felt like he had a choice in the matter. And, though the thought of lying with anyone, whether it was a man or woman, sent shivers of fear and anxiety throughout his body, the thought of what his father would do to him if he refused was ten times more horrifying.
But despite his painful home life, he was able to find some moments for himself as he completed his menial chores for the day. Like right now, with only the stars for company, he basked in the moonlight and thought of vast, far-off lands, of freedom he could only dream of, at least for now.
He stayed standing there in the frigid cold, in nothing but his worn t-shirt and old shorts, daydreaming and reluctant to return to his parent’s unwelcoming grasps.
He stood there until the beginnings of sunlight began pouring from the skyline. His cue to begin his trek back home, lest he receive another beating for not preparing breakfast on time. He sighed.
He hoped with all his heart that whoever he ended up stuck with was nothing like his father.
***
Skwisgaar and Serveta Skwigelf arrived to the ceremony in the town hall late as was usual for both, with the latter looking hungover and exhausted.
Though he didn’t even like his mother, a small part of him was grateful she was eager to accompany him after he reminded her what day it was. He hated the people of this town, and he was sure they reciprocated, but that didn’t excuse him from having to participate in this horrible matchmaking exercise, and it was a small comfort that he wasn’t completely alone.
And Toki was faring no better, sitting alone at a side table as his father made his rounds talking to various townspeople. He hadn’t spoken to a single person all day and doubted he’d even find anyone who wanted to be with him anytime soon. And that scenario would’ve been completely preferred especially once he saw the tall, broad body of his school bully approaching him.
“Hey Wartooth, why the long face?”
Toki groaned looking up. “What’s you wants Olaf…?”
“Just saying, y’know you’re supposed to actually talk to people at these things right? Not surprised no one’s trying to talk to you, but you could put in some effort maybe?” He sidled up to Toki, sitting in an empty chair close to him.
Toki glared. “Maybes I don’ts wants to talk to no ones, especiallys not yous.”
Olaf responded with a chuckle and a sharp slap to Toki’s back, making him wince.
“Heh, Wartooth, you’re getting cheeky aren’t you? Look, I know you probably don’t wanna be here as much as I do, so let’s strike a deal, yeah? Pair up with me. Because let’s face it, do you really think anyone else wants to have to deal with that?” He asked, pointing at Reverend Wartooth who seemed to be in the middle of a heated rant about religion in front of a small audience of people that ranged in reactions from interested to mocking.
Toki had no words. Even he realized his father was more often than not too much for any sane person to deal with. But he’d be damned if he ended up with this troll-looking brute.
He hastily scanned the room, looking over already swooning couples and excited looking parents. He felt trapped, but luckily he spotted a single figure standing at a nearby corner giving the crowd a nasty glare.
It was that new Swedish kid, and though Toki completely blanked out on his name, he didn’t hesitate to point the blonde out to Olaf and declare proudly, “Ja, mes and dat guys right dere already promises to pair ups!”
Olaf snorted. “Really Wartooth? You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truths!”
“Really then?” Olaf’s expression soured, but then he smirked. “Hey Skwisgaar!” He bellowed from across the room, attracting the attention of a few bystanders. “Come on over here!”
The Swede was surprised to hear himself being called by none other than Olaf, but he’d take any distraction he could get from his mother shamelessly flirting with every man she saw.
As he approached, he spotted Toki sitting right by disgusting Olaf and couldn’t help but question his poor taste. What a terrible match those two would make, he internally gagged.
Once he arrived at the able he took a seat next to Toki.
“So Toki here had been telling me he’s already called for.” Olaf said with a sneer.
“Oh, ja?” Skwisgaar responded absentmindedly, strangely relieved for Toki. He pitied the poor fool that got stuck with Olaf for the next three years.
“Yeah, by you.”
Skwisgaar was shook out of his reverie and turned his head towards Toki sharply. “Whats?” He asked, incredulous.
Toki had an obviously panicked look on his face as he put a hand on Skwisgaar’s shoulder, and the eyes he turned towards him explained it all.
“I means…” he tried to backtrack, “Ja, we agreeds we woulds pair ups a whiles ago.” He finished lamely.
Toki nodded, then turned to Olaf. “So you sees, I can’ts be with yous! Sorries!”
Olaf scoffed. “I’ve never even seen the two of you talk to each other.”
Skwisgaar smirked, liking the angry look on Olaf’s face. He wrapped an arm around Toki’s shoulders and said, “We likes to keeps it, how do you says, preevats, until todays. Y’know, for da tradition’s sake.”
Toki, flustered and not expecting Skwisgaar to go along with his lie so easily, nodded hastily.
Olaf scowled. “Whatever. Well don’t you two make a pretty pair, the town whore’s bastard and the Reverend’s son,” he laughed meanly, trying to save face as he stormed away.
Skwisgaar had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Serves him rights, ja? What’s an idiot.”
Toki giggled, “Ja! Yous really saves me theres. I woulds rather dies dan be stuck with dat dildo for the next three years.”
“Yous welcome!” Skwisgaar said proudly, but then blushed, realizing his arm was still wrapped around Toki.
He quickly took it back, rubbing the back of his steaming neck. “Ah… sorries about dat…”
Toki smiled, a rosy tint to his cheeks, “It’s alrights!”
Skwisgaar grinned back.
“Sos… I, uh, ams assuminks you don’ts has a partners yet…?”
Toki shook his head.
“Wells, I don’ts either… And uh…”
Toki, catching on, smiled even wider. “Do yous wants to pairs up withs Toki?”
Skwisgaar tried for a nonchalant reply, but his red face failed him. “I means, if yous asking… why nots?”
The boys beamed at each other, both relieved and secretly pleased.
From the astonished whispered conversations that filled the room as bystanders looked at Toki Wartooth, the holy Reverend’s son, and Skwisgaar Skwigelf, a prostitute’s bastard, it looked like most of the town wholly approved of this surprising couple. It was unexpected, but strangely fitting, and many of them made a mental note to speak to the Reverend and compliment him for raising such a sweet boy.
And Reverend Wartooth, seeing this interaction along with Serveta Skwigelf brazenly flirting with the married local baker in the corner, realized this was a surprising, though not wholly unwelcome, turn of events. The thought of his own flesh and blood canoodling with that bastard made his skin crawl, but if the town could see that his God could redeem even that whore’s son perhaps it would all be worth it.