Retrospective: Paris - How we started

1.1 Francesco De la Cruz - The good shit
Summer 1992, Diego's apartment

When Francesco entered the appartement, he found Diego sitting in the living room.
"You're back earlier than I thought, cariño", his boyfriend said.
"I left early", Francesco replied. "You didn't tell me that one was into beating."

He touched the bruise that had formed on his cheek. The hit had come as a surprise. He was so stupefied, he caught a second one on the same spot before reacting. As in leaving immediately.

Diego looked up into his face, then chuckled. "¡Qué pena! I didn't know. Suzette was really eager to sign you up for that new boyband. The audition would have been just a formality..."

"Here", Diego held a smoking roll towards him. "It will numb the pain."
This one was in alu foil instead of paper. Francesco wondered what was inside, but decided to give it a try. His cheek hurt. And he wanted to forget that puta loca of an agent Diego had sent him to. Suzette was pretty, so he hadn't mind to sleep with her. But he definitely didn't like being beaten while doing it.

Somehow everything had gone wrong along the road since he had left for Paris together with Diego.
"You have to make sacrifices if you want to succeed in music", Diego said.
Francesco had. More than he thought he was capable of. But still nothing seemed to work out and he started to lose his ambitions.

"I have my limits", Francesco said.

He wanted to get out of here.

Back home.
But not today. A feeling of relief spread through his body. Not only the physical pain was numbed, but all his sorrows seemed to fade away, too.

Even the reluctance he had felt towards his boyfriend lately became only a small throb in the back of his head. 

Diego's new shit was good.