IT WASN'T LIKE HE NEEDED MONEY, Wylan thought as he imagined his bank account. There were a lot of disappointment his father had in stock for him, but he was ninety percent sure he wouldn't be left out of the house starving. Probably part of the reason his credit card still worked.
But he was going to need a job eventually (seriously, he was surprised his father hadn't cut him off yet) and so lo behold, there he was in an empty highly suspicious street awkwardly holding his flute and praying that it wasn't a secret attempt to lure musicians somewhere and plan a mass murder.
He thought back to the newspaper he had taken a picture of, and the happy couple in it, both grinning widely. The address was clear and in bold, so Wylan halfheartedly tugged on formal clothing and studied the address once more. He looked up at the street around him, and then at the address. His phone told him that he was on the right place, but as he looked around him, he couldn't help but question himself if was going to volunteer to photograph two members of the local mafia's wedding.
Nobody has luck that bad, he told himself. Nobody. Not even you Wylan.
But then again, he had somehow managed to get himself stuck in an elevator between two of the most sexually charged people he had ever been around, heard their confessions of love to each other, and then had to physically climb his way out of the damn thing. He wouldn't be surprised if it really was a wedding for the local mafia.
He looked at his phone for the address again before raising his head to see the bare buildings surrounding him. He was on a seemingly empty street, with leaves flying around due to the breeze. Even the sides of the buildings were suspicious - covered in half-hearted graffiti that spoke about equality and the evil government. The paint was long faded, and even the basic layer of building paint was cracking and layering off.
He tugged his phone out again and looked at the address. It had told him to go to the building on his left, but it looked like the shadiest of them all. He resisted the urge to call Jesper.
Screw it.
Switching to the message app, he dialed in the number of Jesper and pressed the phone to his ear, silently thanking whatever existed in the world for the idea of asking Jesper for his phone number after the trauma of the whole YMCA thing. A smile rose on his face as the beginning of the song began to play in the back of his head. Hastily he tried shutting it off once more.
"Hello?" Jesper's warm voice spoke and for a while Wylan wasn't sure whether it was just Jesper that managed to sound amazing all the time or his phone finally not ruining a voice.
"Hey, Jesper," Wylan started awkwardly. "Okay, so this wasn't meant to happen but I wanted to earn some money and I saw this advertisement in the newspaper that was like 'Musician for wedding needed' and I was like, hey I need money and they need music - easy but I got to the address and the building they want me to come in is chipped and honest to god looks like the mafia holds their meetings there and ohmygod I'm going to die like this Jesper." He took a long breath trying to reclaim all the lost air in his lungs. "I am going to die."
"Hold on merchling," Jesper said loudly, fitting his own soothing voice in. "You're not going to die, and I'm pretty sure Kaz has contacts with all the mafias around this area and Inej can probably convince him to trade you for something if you get kidnapped and why are we even talking about this? The mafia isn't going to release their address in the newspaper okay Wylan? It's okay. It's just a shady neighborhood."
"It's not okay," Wylan hissed. "It's terrifying and the buildings are all graffiti-ed and they look like criminal activity will happen there. I swear, it's not me being a rich kid right now, everybody here will immediately turn around and walk away and oh dear God I'm going to die like this and also a virgin and-"
"You know if you actually looked at me when I looked at you, I'm pretty sure the virgin thing wouldn't be an issue right now," Jesper said (jokingly, he hoped?) and Wylan almost began choking.
"Not the point right now!" he whispered loudly, looking around once again. "Seriously Jesper I'm freaking out and the time the newspaper ad gave is in like, a minute and oh God Jes-"
Suddenly the door to the building he was supposed to enter opened.
Wylan's heart stopped.
A large bald man clambered out of the building wearing a loose black shirt and his muscles - holy shit he wasn't over exaggerating he really was going to die like this - looked like mountains and he scanned around before seeing Wylan, a five foot three kid who probably looked like he was about to drop everything and run as far away from there as he could. He was sure his expression resembled the expression of his father's employees. Terrified and halfway to probable death already.
The bald man raised an eyebrow. "You?" he spoke in a thick Amsterdam accent and Wylan realized he had accidentally cut the phone off. "Are you here for the advertisement in the newspaper?" The tattoos on him rippled as he spoke and Wylan swallowed loudly.
"Yes?" he said, the voice coming out as more of a squeak. He tried to clear his throat as the muscled tattood probably-mafia man squinted at him. "Yes," he repeated. "I can play the piano and the flute."
The tattooed mafia man nodded as if satisfied. Briefly Wylan wondered what his expression would be if he couldn't play either instrument, and then decided that he didn't want to think about it.
"So," the man grumbled. "Are you just going to stay there? Come inside and we'll talk about it all."
Wylan swallowed the chalk and sand in his throat before taking a few hesitant steps forward and reaching the door. The man's eyebrow stiffened minutely, and Wylan swung the door open quickly, letting the much larger man in.
He didn't respond other than to quickly enter, so Wylan entered and let it shut behind him.
Inside was in marginally better condition than the outside, but it was still... not normal. The lighting was dangling off of the ceiling weakly, and the carpet had odd marks here and there, as if something sharp regularly got stuck in it. The walls were painted an odd colour, and Wylan's eyes widened as he saw a distinct red mark on the wall. There was a counter in a side of the room as well, and tables and a seating area all around the room.
"Welcome," the man told him in his ridiculously deep voice, muscles moving as he talked. "Sit. Somebody else will be here shortly."
Wylan sat in the seat closest to the door, without a table to block his process. The man left through a door Wylan hadn't even seen, and Wylan sat terrified. Oh my god, he thought to himself. I really am in the presence of mafia. I am going to die. Doesn't the mafia hate people that aren't straight?
His mind was awhirl for a while, thinking of every brutal possibility possible. Somehow they were going to figure out that he wasn't into girls and then they were going to murder him. He checked his phone to see about a half dozen texts from Jesper.
Wylan why did you suddenly cut the phone off
Wylan what the fuck answer the phone
answer the phone
WYLAN
W
Y
L
A
N
if you don't answer in five seconds I'm going to have Kaz track your phone
that's it I'm going to Kaz (who is right next to me)
holy shit that's the location of an active mafia according to Kaz
we're coming
as soon as I figure out how to hotwire a car
ACTIVE MAFIA?
ACTIVE FUCKING MAFIA?
HOW THE HELL DID HE GET HIMSELF INTO SITUATIONS LIKE THESE?!??
"Hello!" came a loud voice and Wylan almost dropped his phone, turning his head and expecting to see another brutally massive man. He wasn't disappointed, and was soon face to face (or rather, head to lower chest) with another man with mountains for muscles and endless tattoos on his arms. Even his face had a tattoo on it, and Wylan swore he could see scarring on his neck and disappearing underneath a black shirt.
Wylan stood up instinctively and craned his head up to see this new man with patches of black hair pasted to his head with a hand held out. Wylan took his hand and the man shook it firmly. As the man released his hand, Wylan swore he felt the bones in his hand scream in pain.
"Hello," Wylan weakly replied, his voice sounding a lot like the squeak it had been earlier. "Hi."
The man nodded at him as if satisfied before taking a few steps back (probably to help Wylan whose neck was starting to hurt at being stuck at such an odd angle). He took a seat across the table and across from Wylan. Wylan looked at him before sitting down as well.
"So you saw the advertisement in the newspaper?" the man boomed. Wylan nodded a tiny bit.
"Yes," he managed. He cleared his throat and tried again, sure his eyes were as wide as saucers. The words mafiamafiamafia were running through his head and making it sound a lot like you'redeadyou'redeadyou'redead.
"So what instruments can you play?" the man asked loudly. Wylan winced at his voice.
"The flute and the piano," he answered in a (finally) normal voice. "I'm pretty good at both."
And finally, the man on the other side of him did the unbelievable.
He smiled.
The man's teeth were surprisingly a gleaming white, bright and unbelievably blinding. His entire demeanour loosened and Wylan swore his expression was goofy. "That's great," the man said grinning impishly. "You don't know how happy I am to know that!"
Wylan leaned backwards into his seat, face still pale and clammy. Not as happy as I am, he thought internally. I might just be getting out of here alive.
"Yeah," he said swallowing. "I have a feeling I'm the happier one here."
The man's smile got even larger as he happily shook Wylan's hand once more. "Let me call the others," he excitedly told Wylan, clapping his massive paws together. "This is going to be great!"
Suddenly Wylan found himself doubting the mafia theory. He wondered exactly how the man-to-chihuahua thing happened, but then decided not to question it.
"Yeah..." Wylan trailed off before the words processed. "No! Trust me - you absolutely do not need to call the others."
The large man looked confused, resembling a puppy. Then Wylan registered the massive muscles and decided that comparing him to a puppy was a bad life decision. "I mean," Wylan hastily reiterated. "I'd love to see them."
He nodded before extending a hand again. "Sergie."
"Sergei?" Wylan asked, trying to pronounce it. The man shook his head rapidly.
"My parents named me Sergei," he explained. "But I fucking," -the curse word flowed strangely on the tongue of somebody so happy- "hate that name! I would rip it out of every dictionary alive if I could!" he smiled pleasantly again, and Wylan wondered if Sergie knew that he looked as if he would knit the word Sergei warm blankets in the winter rather than mass murder.
"Yeah," Wylan nodded, pretending to understand what he meant. "Alright Sergie."
The massive man sent him another goofy grin and he decided that, despite the shady surroundings and Jesper's text and the other man, he couldn't be meeting somebody from the mafia.
And then the goddamned door swung open again and revealed yet another terrifying human being.
"Кто он?" the woman asked immediately, sending the room a dark narrowed glare. Finally her gaze focused on Sergie and himself and somehow looked even darker. Suddenly all doubts about the place being related to the mafia flew out the window. He was definitely going to die.
"This is..." Sergie trailed off awkwardly, looking at Wylan. "What is your name?"
Wylan brushed a curl behind his ear and swallowed hard. "Wylan," he choked out. "Wylan... er, Eck." He didn't think they would take too kindly to knowing that they had the son of Jan Van Eck there.
Hendricks, dammit, Hendricks! Start using that name!
The woman halfheartedly extended a hand, quickly saying some long name Wylan couldn't keep track of. "So are you the wedding musician?" she asked, the words curling into a threatening tone. Wylan swallowed once more, and willed himself not to shiver.
"Yes," he said chewing on his lip. "If you'll take me?"
She took a step back and steadily examined him. "Alright," she finally said grudgingly. He relaxed for a moment, and Sergie clapped his hands happily. "We'll need you to play Sleeping Beauty by Tchaikovsky."
Wylan nodded, trying to remember if he had ever gotten the sheet music to play it. Sergie suddenly began speaking though before he could tell the woman of his agreement.
"No!" Sergie complained, oblivious to her death glare. She sent him a razor look but he plowed on, though looking a little daunted as soon as he saw her eyes. "I want to hear Chum Drum Bedrum by the weird Russian singer. Please Oksanochka?"
Oksanochka continued the death glare she was sending Sergie, but finally relented as soon as he began making a puppy-dog face at her. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "Do you know Chum Drum Bedrum?"
"No?" Wylan asked hesitantly. She nodded as if she was expecting that answer, and turned around before disappearing into the door again. Wylan looked at Sergie.
"What is she doing?" Wylan whispered at Sergie. The massive man shrugged, looking largely like a gigantic third grader. The smile on his face returned in a flash.
"I'm sure it's not a plan to k-" he cut off hastily. "A plan to..." he didn't finish his sentence and Wylan paled once again.
Active fucking mafia zone.
Holy shit whAT WAS HE DOING HERE??
The door swung open dramatically once more (seriously, did nobody open it gently?) and the terrifying Oksanochka returned, this time holding a couple sheets of paper. Wylan nervously held them in his hands, quickly scanning through them before realizing that they were actually sheet music. Another page containing words was also handed to him, and he looked at Oksanochka and hoped she was going to tell him what they were about.
"Details," she said grudgingly. "Do not be late. We value earliness," she gave him a meaningful look and he nodded rapidly.
"Good. Sign here."
She pointed to a line on the sheet and Wylan tried to translate it as fast as he could, finally discerning the words 'agreement' and 'wedding'. "It is asking for your permission and legal agreement," she said in her thick accent. Wylan tried to read through the papers again urgently. He'd heard about people being sold into slavery, and privately thought that signing papers he couldn't even read was probably a bad idea.
Bang!
Wylan and Sergie jumped a good three feet and they all turned around to see Jesper, Kaz, Matthias and Nina all there, looking a little out of breath. Wylan's body relaxed with relief as Jesper took a few steps forward and Nina and Matthias stayed at the door. Kaz and Jesper joined him at his sides.
"What is the meaning of this?" Oksanochka started indignantly. "You cannot just barge into our territory, Brekker." She spat the name as an insult and Wylan stiffened again, There was a warm hand at his hip, and he looked next to him to see Jesper standing there reassuringly.
"Why is he here?" Jesper demanded, sending both Sergie and Oksanochka a harsh look. Sergie's puppy-dog expression was gone and was replaced with a harsh look.
"He came here willingly," Oksanochka hissed. "He's playing at the wedding."
There was a loud snort from Nina in the back, but Jesper looked at the papers in Wylan's hands. Scanning through them, Jesper's brow furrowed as he read through the lines Wylan couldn't understand. Finally he looked up at Kaz. "It looks legit," he admitted as he handed the papers back to Wylan. "I mean, I can't possibly understand why they're playing the song Chum Drum Bedrum at the wedding, but aside from that it doesn't look like anything is wrong."
Kaz nodded, looking back at Oksanochka. "See?" she asked, glaring at him. "Brekker boy, always putting your nose into everything. Learn to stay out of business that isn't your own."
"Wylan is our business," Nina interrupted again and Wylan's cheeks flared red. "How were we supposed to know what you were planning?"
Oksanochka pointed to the papers. "They are valid," she said in her thick accent. "I just need the boy to sign them to agree with the terms, and then come to the wedding rehearsal and the wedding. We have no other need for him."
Kaz and Wylan looked at Jesper, who nodded. "That's all the papers say," he agreed. "Doesn't look like there's anything that says 'agreement to a lifetime of slavery' or anything."
Wylan shuddered as he took the paper in his hands, finding the long blank line. He bit his lip as he thought about whether or not to sign it. "Alright," he finally said. They all released a collective breath as he nodded determinedly. Mafia wedding? he thought. I got this. "I'll sign it."
He looked back at his papers and put them down on the table, preparing to write his name down before pausing. "What?" Oksanochka demanded as they all took an instinctive step forward.
"I need a pen," Wylan said sheepishly.
Kaz rolled his eyes before pulling a pen out of nowhere.
Briefly thanking him, Wylan signed his name on the dotted line while silently feeling like he was selling his soul to the devil. Keeping the sheet music, the two mafia members nodded a satisfied nod before looking disgustedly at the entire group. "Now leave," Oksanochka said harshly. "We don't want you back - ever."
Wylan hurriedly turned around but Nina, Kaz, and Jesper all took their time. Matthias and Wylan were the first to open the door and get out into the sunlight. Wylan took a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air he had found so terrifying before.
"What the fuck were you doing there?" Matthias asked as soon as the door shut behind them. Wylan turned his head to see the three other expectant faces, and scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion as he saw Inej suddenly there as well. She sent him a small smile in welcome, and he returned it with a confused one. Had she been there?
"I-I was signing up to play at a wedding," Wylan said slowly. "And I think I'm going to need you guys to come to that wedding with me. In case I die."
Kaz snorted. "I will never be your bodyguard," he told Wylan brusquely as Inej elbowed him.
"Definitely," she told Wylan kindly. Jesper swung a long arm around Wylan and wrapped it around his slighter figure.
"For future notice," he whispered as the other three sped up their pace and headed to a car he hadn't noticed as there. "Do not ever enter mafia territory without any of us. Ever, merchling."
Wylan shot him a grateful look. "Thanks," he whispered back. "Thanks for looking out for me."
"Anytime, merchling."
***
a/n: lmao, wylan get's himself into a lot of shit sometimes. and then we leave it to the crows to drag him out of that. what fun.
on top of that, i'm currently competing in a contest called the 'azul awards' (on wattpad) so if you're interested, definitely check it out!
thanks for reading,
mercy