**Telemachus hated his mother’s boyfriends. They were selfish, total weirdos and are only in it for the social status.

His family was considered extremely wealthy but Telemachus didn’t like mentioning that to his friends or anyone ever. He never really knew his dad, hardly ever knew his mom either as she was always on a business trip or at work.

Here he is, getting his nose bloody, face scrunched up in anger and frustration, while his mom’s boyfriend is barely scratched.

Telemachus grumbled and sat up. He wished he had a height advantage or any advantage in general to continue this fight but his knuckles started to ache, blood dripping down his bruised skin. His body was so sore it ached in complaint at every movement he made.

With no place in mind, Telemachus shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargos and walked the streets of the city. He needed medical help and he knew that but he didn’t want to bother his mom. He huffed, leaving a trail of hot air which contrasted with the coldness of the night.

Telemachus found himself at his boyfriends door—Peisistratus. He stood there quietly before walking up the steps of his front porch and knocked on his house door while rubbing the back of his neck with his other free hand. Peisistratus finally opened the door.

“..Telemachus?”