December, 4th the winds striking through the streets. Swarming in any directions it goes through, as it usually does, trying to get onto the skins to shiver the passing people yet they seemed unfazed by heavy thrashing against their skin, trying to weaken their nostrils whenever they pass through the streets of Paris.
A candle has been lit in a row of books, scattered or mismatched, a few people are lingering of what seems to be a literature club, people who have obtained the passion to write, to create, and a sense of imagination. Franz is hovering around his close companions, listening onto their ideas of their next novels, their collection of ideas did not amuse him. They continued to argue for what is the best. It was not significant to Kafka, so he writes his own ideas, his own desires of want in his new story, yet he cannot make his mind as to what it could be.

Soon, a new writer evolved from the door, his tall yet defined young man, a wide smug as his default expression, he emerges like a ruler and confidently strides over to the table to greet the other writers in a good mannered way, yet still causal and composed. His hair was leather brown, his skin was pale, his mouth often carved in a smug expression and intense piercing eyes, staring into any soul. This immediately caused Kafka to flush at the sight of him, he cannot deny, his hands clutching tightly as he notices Albert approaching him. Albert eyes went onto Kafkas and smiles humbly. Franz felt an odd tingling sensation on his chest when it was at his direction. "Oh, are you Franz Kafka?"
Kafka's smile was not confident, and greets back, shaking his hand, his own small hand shivering.
"Yes... yes I am..Franz Kafka." uttered.
"I've read your books, and I can see where you are coming from.." Albert's hand is gripped his own chin.
"Yes... my works are..quite..Absurd? You can..say?"
"Yes..indeed it is. I enjoy them."
"I am happy by this news that you are. I've also read some of your works."

"What do you think about them?"
"They are interesting..indeed. especially the book called stranger."
"Yes..that is my most known work."
Albert hovers his hand on his hair and brushes it sightly.
"Well it is nice meeting you Franz Kafka."
"Nice to meet you too."

Soon everyone has took the exit, and gone. Franz Kafka walked in the winter, clutching his coat as the windows violently battle against his presence trying to get to his own home. Once he has reached shelter, he withdraws the key, threw himself back on an armchair, maintaing his solitude from the interactions with people. Fatigue got him, fed up of wearing a charming disguise infront of everyone... now he only desired to stay concealed to write his own ideas. However he had none yet, he placed his palm over his forehead trying to think what other novel ideas to make. Suddenly, the glimse of Albert in his mind gave him a clear idea but also a sense of gulit of this indignity inconsideration. He didn't know much about Albert, yet the only thought he was to create... a fantasy with him? No.. that is not appropriate of himself.. but his body language says a other story. A desperation to make something out of him.. he blushed fiercely, imagining him and all his glory, his striking nonchalance, especially his strides, he was everything that Franz Kafka is not. Regardless he couldn't think too long, he was urgent already despite gulit he wrote it anyway, of what he desired, and so the deed was committed on the paper in the darkness in hopes of the complete absence of light.

The next day, Franz reluctantly left his small home in the afternoon to visit his.. Father. once he was walking, he collisioned onto Albert and his legs immediately folded to soon create a thud onto the floor, he felt the his bum slammed onto the surface which caused a slight yelp and his tie to mess up a bit, and immediately straighten his shoulders to glance up with terrified eyes. Albert's expression changes to immediate concern, gasped and

and lifts him up to stand again.
"I'm very sorry for that, Franz Kafka. I didn't mean to appear like that."
"Oh..it's okay, I wasn't focusing."
"Say..where are you going at this time?"
"Oh.. to.. my Father."
Albert became speechless and repeated.
"Father..?"
"Yes. Just to visit him simply."
"Hm...I see.. but why would you want to?"
"I feel as though, I do not have a choice."
"You do have a choice.." Albert spoke in concern.
"Do I really?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe it.. if he doesn't see me..he may hurt me."
Albert shakes his head.
"He won't."
"I find denial.."
"You fear him, why would you go?"
"To...somehow just see him once and never return."
"Okay. If you think it is best. But...I will hand you something for importance"
Albert hands him a note of his address.
Kafka nods "Thank you...maybe we'll see each other again."
"I hope so. Goodluck, Kafka. Don't hesitate to visit me."
Kafka soon pulls himself to smile widely before going on his usual melacholy expression as he slowly goes infront of the door and knocks timidly.

the door creaked ajar, his Father standing there tall yet his body is wide, deliberately like a full barrier to the freedom of his own son. He stood there with an expressionless face but with obvious disapproval lingering in the scene.
Kafka stares there, gulping, shivering, yet admiring his dominance, his legs shaking out of intense anxiety from the years of emotional abuse and lack of support of his talents causing him to have extreme daddy issues.
"Come in." His voice, cold.

Kafka slowly comes in, it is obvious he doesn't want to but often feels pressured just by the look of his father. Kafka sat down on the couch, his father sat too glaring down at him. Kafka would tense in his presence yet speaks up a low voice with effort. "So.. Father, why did you want me to be...here?"
His father sighed.
"For your future. What are you working as?"
"As an writer."
"Still..writing foolish stuff on a page?"
Kafka is silent.
"Don't go silent on me boy."

"I...yes I still am."
"That won't bring money to the table."
"It is what I loved to do." Defiantly.
"WEAK!" he slams his hand on the table creating a loud noise which makes Kafka flinch at.
"Weak weak weak...how many times I told you, you should be a lawyer!"
"I..know I'm weak..I.. "
Suddenly he felt his clothes being taken off.
"Dad...what are you.." Kafka mutters.
Kafka feels naked and exposed only in his boxers.
"There."
Kafka, would tear up, droplets from humanliation.
"You didn't have to do that..!"
His father soon proceeded to put in a narrow balcony, naked, feeling like "a mere nothing" he tears up again.
"Oh but I had to...dear boy. You are weak. No one wants a weak man."
"I know..I know I'm weak."
"Pathetic.. too soft." he walks away carelessly.
Kafka would shiver and grabs a blanket he found and covers it over himself desperate for warmth to surround him, his eyes becomes bigger yet overflowing a whole pond all the way, asking himself why isn't he strong as his father? Why did he have to feel everything..? overthink..everything?. There was not much to do but to cry, think, or forget, he would never forget this however, therefore he cries himself to soon be asleep, he felt his hand shake but doesn't give acknowledgement that it is, about two appendages appeared in his bare waist but doesn't acknowledge that either.

In the next morning, he managed to find the door unlocked and steps inside still shivering intensely from the cold, hes been clenching his teeth to try and endure the harsh winds that was beastly roaming around outside. He rushes off to his room and begins to dress in his formal clothing before anyone else could see him like this, into a nice warm shirt, black trousers, a dark striped tie and finally his blazer, trying to maintain his dignity.His eyes motions through the room, looks like his looming silhouette is not there, no presence of his father to which he sighs with heavy relief, thankful that he isn't here to torment his own son

anymore or at least for now, despite this Kafka reminds tense and hearing for any sounds that could come from somewhere.

His hand launched onto his pocket, grabbing what seems to be a note from Camus last encounter his own address engraved on the note. Kafka, remembers that if there is anything that concerns him he can go to him to talk about, he thought that was a nice gesture of him...and is thinking of going to him someday if he has the chance to. Although his realisation recalled that he has to write a note to Bauer, his lover and hurries off outside to soon step onto the office to typewriter, but his body seemed to reject to even lift his fingers to type to her as if its posion, he understands he is merely doing this just to get away but In his own heart, it's was true his feelings towards Albert was truly real but his mind is encouraging him to take a disguise to love a woman instead, to mask his homosexuality from anyone else. He clenches his hands in fists, he couldn't pretend anymore.. he couldn't even bring his own fingers to type onto the typewriter to tell her anything.

He soon lifts his body from the office chair and walks away, his face deep melancholy, he is upset that his father is trying to force his own son into a shape he cannot fit. What society wants. What everyone would be happy with. But not with what he wants, so rebelliously he goes to find this address from the note that Albert gave, he didn't own a car...nor..there was GPS. He nervously decided to ask the others if they recongise the place, most have not recalled until he went up to an old lady, he asked her politely where the address was and suddenly a woman gave him directions, she lead him to a cozy looking home with a pleasant smile despite her being deaf.
"Thank you... so much." Kafka thanks her.
She simply nods and let's him come in.
Upon stepping onto the wooden flat surface, he saw the man again, who is on a desk, writing on a type writer mostly for politics regarding

situations in present day France.
His eyes lit up and sees Kafka, and removes his cigar in a rushed manner and waves at him.
Kafka hurries over to him,
"Hello, Albert Camus."
"Greetings,"
"Who was that lady over there?"
"She's my mother.."
"Why does she not talk.?"
"She.. she cannot hear anyone so I have to communicate with her with hand language."
"Oh I'm sorry about that.."
"Yes.. i care for her everyday or at least try to in my spare time."
"Where's your father?"
"Oh.. he died when I was only 11 months."
"Oh...so you don't have a father not a step father?"
"No.. but i do always wonder how he was like."
"I see.. I'm still sorry for your loss."
"It's...aright, do you want anything?"
"Oh no, however... I must talk to you about something."
"Of course, go right ahead..sit down on the couch."
Kafka sat on the couch, sightly more relaxed compared to the presence of his imitaidating father.

"Albert.. I'm.. I'm struggling into the void where there doesn't to be any escape from it."
"I'm all ears, Kafka. Just...tell me what is going on."
"Well you see... I am taunted by my father again, he is trying to sabotage my plans for marriage with a woman. However I have no feelings of desire to love her... only a purpose to escape from my father am I.. a failure.. am I a bad person for simply wanting to escape his authoritarianism!?"
Albert stops his smug vanished to a more serious expression.
"No you're not a failure." Albert states dryly.
"You sure? You sure you aren't lying to my face?"
"Yes I'm sure." "What do I do...do I run away..do I make up an excuse to delay...Please tell me Albert what do I do!"
Albert stares at him, thinking til he thought of something. "Listen here Kafka. I got an idea."
Kafka's head jointed up to hear "Yes, go on.. please tell me."
"You can stay here in my own home, you can forget the typewriter in the office. You can forget about your father, I will defend you at all costs." "R..really?"
"Yes really."
"You'll do this for me?"
"Confirmed."

Albert steadies his shoulders with his large yet comforting hands gripping his shoulders.
Franz Kafka stares at him for a brief moment feeling relaxed. "I never had anyone steady me like this..not in this way." Albert would immediately take his hands off of his shoulders.
"Right.. sorry."
"No its okay.. I've calmed down."
"That is good..let me make you some coffee."
"No there is really no need!"
"I insist, Kafka."
"Alright..I suppose I am in the mood for coffee."

Soon, Albert takes his time brewing and preparing the coffee. As Kafka admires him from the living room, in his mind he feels safe from the tornado of his own father, no longer near him but isn't fully relaxed due to his long ever lasting fear of his father coming here or being able to find him, he sightly blushes about Alfred taking care of him as if he choosed to. Soon, the bitter smell arrives, entering into Kafkas's nostrils, immediately addicted to the scent, he hears Alfred's footsteps growing closer to him as he sees him set down the coffee for Kafka and himself.
"Thank you, you are very generous."
"You're welcome."
They both used the same index finger to lift up their cups to sip the bitter taste of coffee, they both love coffee, the caffeine and the adrenaline they keep as defenses against the ideas of gender norms and the social norms, almost a symbolism of unity between the two Absurd philosophers, however they placed their cups down.
"Does that mean I can...stay here for abit?" Kafka asks timidly,
"Yes you may."
"Oh, Thank you so much!!, no one offered help before, why do you want to help me?"
"You are genuine.. we both believe in the absurdity of life.""Yes.. we do. I see that despite our different writing styles, we connect in some way."
"I agree, it's nice getting you know you personally..Kafka."
"Oh.." Kafka uttered softly, and a faint of blush appears on his cheeks.
Albert doesn't acknowledge it."I believe it's late now.. I can show you where the guest room is"
"Okay. Thank you."

Kafka follows Albert upstairs to the guest room, organised.
"Thank you still..very much for the room, I would have been fine with sleeping on the couch."
"The couch is not a proper sleeping place, make yourself comfortable." Alfred smiles as Kafka settles in the bed.
"You're too kind.."
"Goodnight Kafka."
"Goodnight.." Kafka yawns softly and his eyes drifts to the darkness, as his body rests from the stress turmoil, very afraid of his own father, but surprisingly managed to sleep well for the first time in thirty three years.. he was sleeping like a peaceful infant, holding his legs in a feeble position, he soon got up and stretches his own limps to hear a sound of a crack or two or a knot being undone, then fully raises up on his feet. He then turns to go to the next room to see Camus sleeping, snoring in a low tone, his arm dangles, one on the side of the bed and the other behind him, while his legs is outstretched blanket over his body. Suddenly an aggressive knock launched at Albert's door which interrupted Kafka staring at Albert, he tenses up immediately and gently placed his hands on Alfred's chest to drift him back to reality. Slowly Alfred rubs his eyes and sat up, to hearing Kafka's mutters "A..Albert.. there's someone at the door.. could you check it out?"
"Yes.. of course." Soon Albert stretched, the aggressive knocks didn't stop and he wore his robe and stumbled down the hallway to the door. Kafka would be away from the view as he is terrified, the knock noises greatly gives him a familiar presence who would knock like missiles collision into the door yet it stands undefeated against the force.
He lazily opened the door to see an imitaidating presence of what seems to be...Kafka's nightmare. His father standing, his shadow looming over Albert as he looked up and spoke in a calm manner, not imitaidating yet. Kafka peeked and hid in the closet in Albert's room.

"Where is my son." He stared at Albert
"Who?"
"My son. Kafka. Where is he?"

darting his sharp eyes around, without stepping in
"Sir I do not know what you are talking about. I do not know your son."
"I think you're lying."
"No I am not-" before Albert could finish his sentence he is immediately slammed down with hard force onto the floor by his arm, he grunted in pain, Kafka would hold his gasp as he heard the force of Alfred being launched to the floor by his own father and finally got his eyes up to look at Kafka" Father with deep hatred, determined to keep Kafka away from as his father stood infront of him.
"Now tell me young man.. where is he?" The Father spoke with malice intentions under his tone of voice.
Albert slowly got up, to take a proper breathe just as he was about to talk, Kafka abruptly revealed himself of his location appearing behind as his father hovered to look and looked at him cold. "Father..leave Albert alone, I'll come."
"Kafka. Come back home. Now." demanded.
Kafka stares in a horrified manner and wobbles over to him slowly. Camus immediately goes to Kafka and clutched his hand. "No you shouldn't.!" yelled instinctively, something in his tone evokes the sense of holding back his tears.
"I'm sorry...Albert I can't risk you getting hurt."
His father smirked and grabs Kafka's wrist and pulls him away while Kafka whimpers sightly at his strong grasp of his wrist as his father storms out of the door. Camus watched with genuine feelings of helpless, and soon breaks down into a tearful mess.
"No..kafka..no." He gritted his teeth trying to stop his emotional display in his home but he can't keep it to himself anymore he bursts cries and coughs, he bangs his side fist onto the ground in anger and hopelessness "No....no...Kafka." he cried but he was being happy in nothing, yet cried. His arms wrapped his eyes as gushes of tearful water slipped, he slept like a dead pigeon who just got shot in the heart. Meanwhile Kafka is shoved onto the couch while his father yelled at him in immense uncontrollable rage.

"WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN HIS HOUSE?!?!" Kafka shivers "i..I was only enjoying his company dad it's nothing."
Suddenly he got slapped, his jaw jointed hard due to the slap and Kafka tried to hold his tears from the immense pain conflicted on his cheeks.
"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME ITS NOTHING. You're trying to get away from what I want you to be. Disobedience won't be tolerated...do you understand?" "Y-yes..father.." shuttered.
"Now get out of my sight. Useless..piece of..."
Kafka just goes to his room and closes his door, sitting over on the desk chair and sobs on the desk table. "I hate you father.. I hate you so much..why can't you just die.." He mutters. As his body twitches, three unnoticeable appendages developed on his bare spine, he doesn't notice it.

In the awakened light, Camus, woke up, felt like a lifeless zombie, still effected by yesterday afternoon. He has eyebags under his eyes from mourning, darts around. "Kafka.." he said helplessly aware he isn't here anymore. He suddenly recalls the literature club, speeds to wear his trench coat and at intense speed to reach to the literature club as it started, as he entered he looked around, there doesn't seem to be any sign of Kafka sitting down. His friend, Max Brod asked him.
"Albert, where is my friend Kafka? I strangely haven't seen him for a while."
"Hes... he's with his father again."
"Oh dear.. of course he's with his father again."
"Yes... I must go there and help."
"Let me help you with this."
Albert nods in a pace that seems desperate his limps ready to run to save him, imagining himself as the great prince saving his princess.
The both men rushed, Max Brod beside Camus guiding him to Kafka's father's home.
Meanwhile, Kafka stared at an unfinished page with a dull expression, his father deliberately sabotaged his plans and kept Kafka in the dark, left with only a lamplight. He feels trapped in the darkness as his father goes to attend a meeting who had already warned him if he tries to leave,

he will prolong his suffering further which makes Kafka feel Angst, he goes on the corner, with dead eyes, his spark vanished, rocking himself in the corner, feeling like the princess in the dungeon and his body becoming heavy, almost like the passion leaving his body out of him slowly in this suffocating empty place.

Soon, the two arrived and immediately tries to open the door.
"Damnit! It's locked!" Camus spoke with melancholy and helplessness
"What do we do Max?!"
"There's a window in Kafka's room..let's try to gain his attention!" Max picks up a nearby rock and launched it but it falls down, it didn't even touch the window, Max picks it up and throws with heavy determination, it manages to hit the window but it doesn't catch Kafka's attention, he is in the process of transforming..
"It's not working." Max sighed after attempts of throwing rocks.
Concern vivid in Albert's face and stares at Max seriously.
"We will break the door."
"Alright."
They both align themselves and launched themselves as two allied missles, they launched outwards their feet against the door and marched on like two soliders and finally with a few attempts the door is defeated, broken down by the two ruthless desperate gentlemens trying to get to their friend.
The appendages appeared more wildly and a few on Kafka's body yet he still unfazed and emotionally numb to even bring himself to care, glaring at the floor convinced there is not more that could be done for his life.Camus, blasted the door down with a heavy force and entered in a hurry. "Kafka! Kafka where are you?!" he puts on the light and stared at his desk, his final extract read.
"I find myself in overwhelming pressure to hide it all. My father officially locked me in my cage and threw the key, ive been reflecting throughout my life, Thanks to Mox Bord for supporting me throughout and courage me to continue to pursue in being a writer, I found myself doubtful in my capitiabilies and now i believe this is my end, end to all

misery I've been... having fantasies on a specific individual named Albert, for the first time I felt loved by him, wanting to escape from my father just to bring with him, but it seems like I have no chance to live in my delusions. He probably thinks that I am unworthy of his love, or that I am unclean for having such outrageous thoughts.. farewell."
Albert turned and finally saw Kafka in his final form, he is fully transformed into a bug crawling slowly towards him. Albert's face darkened in despair at his form.
"Kafka... Kafka.."
He held the bug close to him but it doesn't speak.
"KAFKAAAAA!!! I LOVED YOU! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME PROTECT YOU?! WHY!! You could have escaped!" he screams passionately as the bug just stood there in his arms. Camus places his head on the bug's body and sobs. It seems like there is no reversible way...as now Kafka was a living bug in his own tale. Forever non-human. Max Bord and Kafka's father's witnessed the scene, Max proceeded to cry when he saw Kafka in such a different state while his own father remained shocked and quiet at his own sons finality.

The darkness has finally devoured them whole. The balance has collapsed into a mere nothing.

Happy version.

Albert immediately slides in a dash to grasp Kafka in his arms. He widened his eyes at the unexpected visit despite his lower body turning almost half bug. "A-..albert what are you-" before he can even finish his question, he felt Albert's lips connecting with his, in a sensual kiss, he tears up and kisses him back, his arms instinctively wrapped around Albert's shoulders and soon returns to being human.
"Albert... why..why did you do that?"
"I knew, ever since I saw you.. I loved you, we were meant to be."
"Yes...I would love that, I do have similar feelings! I wish to love you only!."
Albert smiles and gets Kafka up from his knees and steadies him.
"I do love you the same.."
They turned to look at the direct where Kafka's father's was, watched as if he dissolved away into nothingness, nothing could get between them now.
Fate has chosen union. Max stared approvingly at this love unity.