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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Orchestra - Sinfónia Lifsins - 36. A Friend in Need

Thanks Lisa for the awesomely quick editing! :)
Siggi learned something after almost losing his friendship with Dmitri and wants to show it. He'll have plenty of opportunities: everyone wants a piece of Dmitri these days, but not in a nice away. Time to put his arseholeness to a good use.

Russian Star Oboist is a Prostitute

Exclusive report!

 

It has emerged that Dmitri Miroslavich Kovlov, the twenty-three year-old principal oboe of the Icelandic Symphony Orchestra (ISO), used to exchange sexual favours for money in his native Russia. This information comes from a credible anonymous source, who confirmed that Dmitri ‘did everything his clients asked for with a special kind of pleasure, which obviously made him very popular.’ According to the same source, Dmitri claimed to have stopped this kind of “work” long before moving to Iceland, but ‘you can never know if he’s telling the truth. He “gets intimate” with so many guys a night that, quite frankly, I find it hard to believe he was really able to leave behind a “job” he enjoyed so much.’

This news comes just after it has been revealed that Dmitri is in a relationship with Gunnar Helsson, the seventeen-year-old child prodigy who is now the leader of the ISO. The day before this news was published, Dmitri was found to have spent the night in the company of an unknown male. This evidence seems to confirm the claims of our anonymous source.

Icelandic law on prostitution criminalises only the purchase of sexual favours, therefore selling one’s body for sex is not strictly illegal. However, this measure was put into place to protect vulnerable women from being forced into prostitution. Dmitri is not a woman, and his important position at a prestigious Icelandic orchestra means he is definitely not vulnerable either. As such, if this Russian oboist is truly continuing his lewd activities on Icelandic soil, he is doing so out of a selfish desire to satiate his immoral pleasures. This lack of morality is surely at odds with Icelandic values.

Moreover, it is worrying that such an individual has forged so close ties with one of Iceland’s most promising youth. Surely the ISO, as an outstanding Icelandic institution, ought to re-evaluate their choice of staff in order to continue upholding the values that we as a society hold most dear.

 

The Monday newspaper was spread over the table as we silently read through their latest piece of printed shit. Dmitri stood in front of me. His body shook so much he could barely keep standing. His skin had gone paler than mine. Karen and Gísli were at the other side of the table. He was probably worried. She was definitely angry.

“Ok, I’m calling Gummi right now to demand we sue the shit out of these people for spreading false information. They’ll get their asses kicked big time!” She tore away the page that made her so angry and ripped it apart in a series of deadly quick motions.

“It’s not exactly false information.” It came out in barely a whisper, but it was enough to shut everyone up. Karen and Gísli stared at Dmitri. Horrified, maybe? Scared? Surprised? I was not the best person to judge. “Not all of it, anyway.” Dmitri grabbed the chair next to him and used it to support his weight when his legs seemed about to give up. He never looked at any of us. “I was a sex worker for a time in Russia, but I stopped when I was seventeen.”

“Ok, then we sue them for accusing you of doing it here.” So Karen could not care less that her housemate had been a whore. One less thing for him to worry about.

Dmitri’s body stopped shaking, but he still did not dare look up at us. “They’re not accusing me. They’re saying it’s a possibility. I don’t know if it counts. These people know what they’re doing, right?”

“No. They crossed a line, and they’ll have to pay.” Karen wanted blood. I knew that tone of voice well. I had long ago learned to run away from it.

“Then maybe you can make them pay when Dmitri isn’t looking like he’s about to throw up and pass out in our living room. We’ll come down again when he’s ready.”

It should not have been this easy to pull Dmitri away and drag him up the stairs. He was supposed to be a lot heavier and stronger than me. He was supposed to be the one who pushed me around effortlessly.

“Why did you take me away?”

“Mostly because I really don’t like to be around angry people if I can help it.”

“Then why drag me with you?” Dmitri touched my cheek. He was as pale as my everyday look.

“Because I don’t want to be a failure of a best friend.” My turn not to face him. “Believe it or not, I actually spent most of my weekend thinking about our last talk. It will be a lot of work to get me to process and talk about my feelings properly, and for me to be able to tell other people what I really think about them. I don’t know if it’s ever going to happen. So I decided to try showing you how much you mean to me instead of saying it.”

“Aw, Siggi!” Dmitri squashed me into a tight hug and smiled. His cheek was wet when it brushed against mine. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that!”

“I think my ribs do.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” He let go of me, but the smile was still there.

“I want to be the best friend you deserve for having to put up with me for so long.”

“Hey, don’t say it that way. Being around you is not a burden, ok? I really like you.”

“Whatever.” Dmitri hugged me again, though this time my ribs were spared. “Do you know what you want to do now?”

“To tell you the truth, I think I just want to curl into a ball and cry.”

“You can do that, I guess…”

“How did they know? Who told the reporters about my past?” Dmitri managed to lie on the bed with his head on my lap, and then placed my hand on his hair. “There’s no way they would’ve known about this unless someone went to their offices and told them about it.” Dmitri guided my hand to cares his hair while he spoke

“How many people knew?”

“In Iceland? Only you and… and him.”

“Shit.”

“But he should still be in jail. He shouldn’t be out until next year…”

“Then maybe he told someone else? Like his lawyer?”

“I don’t know…”

And because there was not enough shit happening already, Dmitri’s phone rang. The caller ID accused an unknown number, so I took the phone away from him. “I bet my second cello it’s a reporter. You’re not dealing with this shit today.” I answered the call. “Hello.”

Hello, good morning. Is this Dmitri?”

“Who is calling?”

I’m calling from Morgunblaðið and I would like to…”

“Sorry, but Dmitri is not speaking to reporters anymore. You’re all arseholes trying to sell papers with ridiculous over-the-top racist and whorephobic attacks on him. I don’t know how the hell you got the material to make your latest accusations, but we’re certainly not giving you any more shit to make my friend’s life hell with.”

“Ok, then. May I ask who I am speaking to?”

“You certainly may not. You may not get any names, any quotes, or anything else you want to use for that piece of shit you claim to be a newspaper. We’ve had enough of you already. Bother us again, and you’ll be talking to the ISO’s lawyer.”

“So you already know for sure the ISO is supporting Dmitri, despite his dishonourable past?”

“You have to try harder if you want to make me talk. Now stop wasting both of our times and go work on some other shit before we get your ass fired.” End of call.

“That was the best use of your anger management problems that I’ve ever seen.” The bastard was grinning.

“They had to come in handy some time.”

“Yeah. Thanks, I feel a bit better.”

“I can see that.” His grinning was making it annoyingly obvious.

“Does that make you happy?”

“I guess. Don’t push your luck, though.”

“I won’t. I just wanted to help you with the emotions stuff.” The grin turned into a full smile, and his arms pushed me into a hug again. “Let’s get back downstairs; I don’t think it’s right that we leave Gísli alone with Karen. I don’t think she’s gonna spare his life just because he’s got a crush on her.”

“Whatever.” The bastard dragged me out of the room with his annoying enthusiasm. He was stronger and heavier than me, so it was an easy job. Things were back to how they were supposed to be. “And thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

(...)

The plan was to call Gummi to see what to do next, but our boss beat us to it. He called Dmitri and arranged to meet us at our house in half-an-hour. He arrived at our front door precisely thirty minutes later, to the second.

Dmitri started the conversation after the usual boring greetings and ‘please take a sit while I make us some tea’ formalities. The five of us sat, fittingly, at the music room table. “First things first. Do I still have a job?” Dmitri was no longer smiling, and his skin had gone back to looking like it belonged to a ghost (or to me).

“Of course you do! What kind of question is that?”

“Even if they’re telling the truth?”

Gummi obviously had to silently stare at Dmitri for an eternity before speaking, just to make everyone nervous and heighten the sense of drama. “Even if every single word that paper said was true, your private life only becomes a matter of concern to us if it impacts on your abilities to fulfil your contract. So no, your job is not at risk, no matter what they say.”

“Thank you.” Dmitri sighed. “Only part of what they wrote is true. I did sex work when I was a teenager, but I stopped long ago. I swear I never did anything like that here.”

“I believe you.” Gummi patted the back of Dmitri’s hand. “And to be fair, the newspapers themselves pointed out you would not be committing any crime if it was still going on. I can’t punish you for something that’s not technically wrong.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“It’s not a problem. I will talk to our lawyers to see if there’s anything they can do. It’s the second personal attack they launched against you in less than a week. I don’t know what they’re hoping to accomplish, but I can’t just stand by and let them berate one of my most valued colleagues and a personal friend.”

“Thanks so much, Gummi…” Dmitri started to cry again. My hand found its way to his shoulder on its own accord, and he flashed a smile at the gesture.

“We got you out of worse things before. This will be easy compared to that.”

“I hope so.”

“You don’t need to show up to work until we resolve this. I don’t want to expose you unnecessarily.”

“I won’t go today, then. But…” Dmitri squeezed my hand. “But I don’t want to be gone forever. If these people want to take me away from my job, I want to show them we’re still ‘business as usual’.”

“Do as you wish. I will fully support your decision, whatever it is.”

“You’re the best boss ever.”

“The ISO is a family. We look out for each other.”

“I know. And I’m really grateful for that.”

(...)

Gummi drank his tea and left at the perfect time to take Karen and Gísli to rehearsal with him. I was allowed to stay with Dmitri to help him sort his shit out. I did not believe I would be particularly useful at that, but Dmitri insisted.

“Thanks for staying behind. Maybe later you can practice your cello concerto?” Dmitri and I were still sitting in the same places in the music room.

“Maybe. What do you want to do now?”

“Can you just listen to me for a bit? I promise you don’t have to do anything else or answer in any particular way. There are things I want to get off my chest, and I can only say those things to you.”

“Fine, I’ll listen. Just don’t expect me to say anything back.” I had enough trouble answering to my own emotions, never mind someone else’s.

“I know, thanks.” His hand found my shoulder. He pulled me closer, and laid his head on my chest. “I think I’m really scared now. If it was him who told the newspaper about my past, then I wonder if he’s up to something…”

Dmitri’s phone rang again. I had pocketed it after hanging up on the nosy reporter, so I still had it on me. “I’ll get it for you again.” The caller ID indicated the replacement’s name.

“No, Siggi, it’s fine, it’s just Gunni!”

“Too late.” I pressed the green button. “Hi.”

“Siggi? Where’s Dmitri? Is he all right? Why do you have his phone?”

“Too many questions, kid. Dmitri is here with me and he’s fine. I’m just answering all his phone calls today so he doesn’t have to deal with all the jerks and other assorted reporters.”

Oh, I see. Can I talk to him, then?”

“No.”

“Hey, Siggi!” Dmitri protested, but did not move to forcefully take the phone away from me.

Why not?”

“Because I know you’ll want to ask him questions about today’s news. He’s not ready to talk about it yet, so I won’t put you through to him.”

“Who said I’m not?”

“Ok, if that’s what he wants.” The kid did not even try to argue with me. It was either blind trust or his usual cluelessness. Neither sounded promising. “But then is it true what the papers said?”

“What if it was? Are you scared or disgusted by it?” Dmitri’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. If my friend wanted to date the replacement so bad, the kid better be worth the hassle.

“I don’t know. That’s why I want to talk to him.”

“If you don’t like the possibility that it might be true, then you don’t deserve to be his boyfriend. You say you want to talk, but are you ready to see what Dmitri is really like? Are you going to accept him still after you have your ‘talk’? Because if the answer is ‘no’ you don’t have to bother talking to him ever again.”

There was a long silence at the other end of the line. Dmitri bit his lip. Finally, when the wait was getting boring, the replacement spoke. “I want to hear it from Dmitri. Whatever his story is, I would rather hear it from him than from a reporter. I’m worried about him; I just want to talk and make sure he’s ok.”

“But are you going to keep talking to him no matter what afterwards? Can he trust you with that, or am I about to send my best friend into even more pain and humiliation?”

“I don’t want to cause him pain! I just want to talk to him!”

“Then are you ok with having a boyfriend who was once, and might potentially still be, a sex worker? Are you going to accept that?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I like how little hesitation you put on that answer. If you had said that five minutes ago I would’ve been done with you a lot sooner.”

Thanks, I guess. I’m glad Dmitri has someone so protective around him.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Dmitri is a softy with a bleeding heart. He needs someone to call the bullshit for him or some shitty arsehole will come one day and step all over him until he can no longer stand. I needed to make sure you were not that arsehole.”

So you think I’m good enough for Dmitri?”

“I didn’t say that. I still think you’re an immature kid with mummy issues who’s biting more than you can chew, but you’re not the dangerous kind of arsehole that’s going to hurt my friend.”

I feel weirdly happy about that.”

“Whatever. You feel whatever you want. And you and your weird feelings can go talk to Dmitri now.”

The phone was finally handed over to its owner. Considering how annoyingly long my conversation with the replacement had been, I expected Dmitri to talk a lot more to his dear boyfriend. Instead, as if to make fun of my efforts, their call ended in two minutes, with Dmitri promising they would talk about everything, but that this talk should take place right now at the replacement’s house. So much for ‘listen to my feelings, Siggi.’

“Are you sure you want to go out today? For all we know, the paparazzi are stalking our front door waiting to jump on your neck.”

The bastard grinned. “But that’s why I have you. As long as you’re by my side, your rudeness will keep everyone away. Now come, let’s get ready to visit Gunni.”

Thanks for reading!
Next chapter we will hear more about Dmitri's story as he tells Gunni everything he's comfortable sharing, with Siggi by his side for emotional(!) support.
So far, we've seen Siggi at the worst moment in his life. From the story's start until around 12-18, we got worse until he couldn't possibly sink lower. Now, hopefully, he's finding his way up again. Let's hope it lasts...
Copyright © 2017 James Hiwatari; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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On 09/16/2014 08:37 AM, ColumbusGuy said:
The tension is building...seems reporters are the same all over the world, alas!
Thanks for the review!

 

And yes, reporters seem to be some kind of universal plague that's bred to sell papers and nothing else. Ah, well... ;)

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