I still remember every promise, ever ‘I love you’, every ‘goodnight’, every ‘good morning’, and every 'drive safely’ that was spoken between us.
—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #62

Like an informal party of bodyguards, his most athletic colleagues tried to keep an eye on the valuable asset the aristocrat boy represented, at least to prevent him from changing teams – totally below his principles – or joining any other one. Surely they provided good service for Alvar, who simply did not know how to defend himself.

Defenseless. It dawned upon Tobio how defenseless – probably from his very privileged, peaceful upbringing as firstborn, all his rights permanently secured – the young aristocrat was! 

Tobio gasped at his own realization, that immediately infused him with an unexpected fearlessness.

Still short and somewhat too compact a mass of muscles at his last teen year, Tobio wouldn’t have expected Alvar to be also that light, and easy to maneuver – when, one hand pulling the hair on the back of his head, the other lifting him by the armpit, Tobio actually managed to pin the nobleman against the paneled wall under the stairs.

With horror, Alvar heard the thinnest part of the carpet rip under the sole of his shoes. Old floorboards surfaced for the first time after two centuries, and primeval speckles of dust erupted in the trail of their dragging and trampling ensemble. The thump of their bodies colliding resounded across the empty hall – and for the next few seconds, both young men listened in immobility to any other disruption of the antique order around them.

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