The Ranking System (BoyxBoy)✔

⚜Chapter 7: The Ranking System

A/N: 06.24.2021

Here's a new update ❤

If you guys have some time, it would mean a lot if you could go to the previous chapter and leave a vote (if you haven't already!)

Oh, and chapter 27 of TRS has been updated on Patreon today >< the link is in my bio~

Q/A: Have you ever been on a date? What did you do and how did it go?

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The room was small, so I was surprised to see a boy sitting on one of the two beds. It didn't occur to me that I'd be sharing the room.

The boy's back was pressed against the cement wall and his long, slim legs were sprawled out in front of him. The rays of sunlight that spilled through the barred windows cast shadows on his ghostly pale face. I wondered if he'd ever been outside this room. His pale complexion made the purplish shadows beneath his eyes look darker than they probably were. A sign of insomnia. 

"Are you my new roommate?" he asked in a thick Russian accent.   

"Yeah, it seems so," I smiled, wondering why I felt so nervous. I also wasn't aware that I'd be sharing a room.

He ran a hand through his midnight curls and studied me carefully. It was a calculative gaze. He was making sure I wasn't a threat. I observed him in return, but the only thing I managed to get was that he liked the color black. His dress code was entirely composed of it: black shoes, jeans, and a black shirt that hung loosely on his slim figure.  

"What's your name?" he inquired. 

"Axis. What about you?"

"Vadim." He pronounced it as va-dheem. Definitely Russian. 

"Nice to meet you."

He blinked then laughed, his shoulders shaking.

"You're definitely new here," he chuckled to himself. "The bed on the left is yours. There are pipelines connected behind the walls so you'll hear rats running up and down every night. Hope you're a heavy sleeper, 'cause the rats like the scream at night."

"You mean squeak?"

He smiled and raised a lazy shoulder.

"Sure."

I felt somewhat concerned.

"There's a drawer beneath the bed for your clothes," he said. I nodded and started to unpack the few clothes I brought with me. Most of them were Christopher's clothes since most of mine were too dirty to be cleaned or too torn to be worn.

"What got you in here, tovarisch?"

"Excuse me?"

"Bless you."

"What?"

"What?" He echoed.

"What does tovarich mean?" I asked.

"Tovarisch," he corrected me. "I forgot you Americans lack education in the foreign language department. It means comrade. What did you do to get stuck here?"

"I murdered someone," I joked.

"Another murderer? I am a lucky boy," he smirked.

I forced out a humorless: ha, but my chest constricted with worry. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but I decided it was best if I didn't know. I put my folded clothes into the metal drawer beneath my bed.