027.01 VIKTOR – Hostivař, third night Sept 14 at 23:00 – 01:30

14.9.

The forest darkness by the dam is so dense it swallows even its own echo. Cars rumble in the distance, but they sound more like a muffled rhythm resembling a steady pulse. The moon floats above the treetops; its light shatters into silver blades that never fall. Breath vanishes the moment it leaves the lips.

♫

Spiegel im Spiegel (2:00 – 2:45) The piano and cello fell into the darkness like drops of mercury: slowly, but unstoppably. In every reflection I recognized my own outline and immediately lost it.

VIKTOR

I come to the edge of the Hostivař parking lot, the asphalt is still radiating that daytime heat. Only two cars are parked in the back, tucked right away, their hoods cooling in the shade of the trees. I'm rolling a piece of gum around in my pocket—it's sort of my little alibi. Sure, I came to have a smoke. I came to catch my breath. I came because I was afraid to be at home.

I stretch my shoulders, as if trying to shake off both the pool chlorine and the inner restlessness that's been eating at me all day long. Silence hisses in my ears: "So you're back again, huh?"

I see the guy snap his phone shut. He's wearing a hood, so I can't really see his face. He nods toward the woods. It's not an invitation, it's permission. As if I needed it, damn it.

Every step crunches in the leaves. I look back. I hesitate for a moment—I feel like going back to the asphalt and then home, but that feeling is weak. The desire to forget is stronger. No compromises, no matter what happened. I just need it. Right now.

I turn the corner past the last row of cars, where my name fades away, where I am not Viktor, where I am no one. I take out my gum, kneel down, and bury my face in that guy's fly.

Among the trees, the scent of bark and sweat mingles, shadows form and disappear without names. I felt the closeness of other bodies before I caught sight of them. Two men approached from the sides and I sucked three gorgeously big cocks in turns. Their exposed bellies in open shirts glistened with sweat, sighing chopped the silence into small pieces. A stranger's palm slid down my back into my shorts toward my ass. It was hot, those fingers were driving me wild, I arched my back to let them go deeper. Leaves crunched, another tall figure stepped between us and took me from behind. It was madness – the night was turning people into moving coordinates.

Sometimes I ask myself why I do this. But when I take off my glasses at night and sit on the edge of the bed, I see it clearly – emptiness. Gaping, waiting. A hunger that never goes away.

I always wanted something different. When I first went to a club, I thought I'd find love there. I really was that naive. I found sex. Fast, nameless, sometimes good, sometimes not. And then I got used to it. I accepted it. That's just how it is. I'm not such an idiot as to expect a prince on a white horse when I'm not even sure who I am.

This is my life. Faculty, where I'm trying to somehow squeak by. A part-time job, where I'm trying not to look so desperate. And nights, when I'm trying to feel at least for a moment something other than emptiness.

Maybe it's time to admit that this isn't a coincidence.

I stood still and listened to the chirping of crickets. That sound was the only thing disturbing the silence around me. The distant hum of the city felt like it was from another world. The hunger I felt had no name or face. Just an emptiness that needed to be filled.

A forgotten T-shirt hung on a tree branch, probably belonging to someone who had fallen deeper here than I had. I let my gaze rest on it and imagined the story behind it. Who left it here? Were they running away? Was it a good evening, or a bad one? Maybe both, like mine.

The silence around me grew heavy. Hunters and prey alike had dispersed into the night. Everyone who had been here was already gone, but that emptiness remained inside me. I felt it radiating from me—that insatiable void that couldn't be filled. And everyone around me must have sensed it.

I turned toward the parking lot. I shoved my trembling palms deep into my pockets, as if searching there for a different pulse, a different rhythm than my own accelerated heartbeat. Something that would bring me back to myself.

In the distance, an engine growled. The wind brought me the scent of gasoline, resin, and the promise of departure. Someone driving away. Someone who had somewhere to go.

I am what I am. That won't change.

I took a deep breath of the cold night air. For a moment I considered heading back into the trees, trying to find someone who could fill the emptiness for a while. But I didn't have the strength anymore. Sometimes the chase is just pointless.

I stepped out toward the road. That was enough for today. Tomorrow is a new day, another search. And maybe—even if I don't believe it myself—I'll find something.