There are things that are not supposed to be spoken aloud. Moments that made people's faces twist in a grimace of shame, old secrets, thoughts you wouldn't trust to everyone. Kevin's whole life has been something that isn't supposed to talke about — not in the media, not with the people around him, too costly a risk to fulfill this secret dream of being accepted.

His worst nightmare and at the same time his most cherished dream was for someone to pull back the wallpaper facade of the glossy magazine cover of his arrogance and look in there — in that dark room where the real Kevin sits, that drunken mess strewn with still sharp shards of his own past that still hurt. For no matter how much bravado was in his defiant tone and commanding gestures, no matter how many masks and dazzling smiles he put on, he still longed for someone who would see the weakness he was made of, nod and sit beside him, accepting each of his fears.

After all, no matter how many pages in exy magazines with his face on them, at the end of the day he's just as human as millions on this earth.

King exy is also afraid of nightmares and, like a small child, postpones to the last the moment when he will have to go to sleep again. His legs are bent at the knees, pressed against his chest as he sits on the windowsill, and things they're not supposed to talk about suddenly become commonplace — rarely has the lump in his throat been so easy to untangle without a bottle poured down his throat.

"I just, well, I still remember the way he looked at me then. When I was about to leave," he sighed, leaning his cheek against his knee. His look still sometimes dreamed about it and Kevin felt ashamed, guilty — he'd never talked about it in his life, it was too far shoved that secret. "I knew what Riko would do to him and I went anyway, it was the only chance I had. Maybe..." maybe it really wasn't his fault.