AN: Sully’s turn!! I know everyone’s been dying to meet him, so here he is!! (cuddles Sully) I like all my characters, of course, but Sully’s a special one. Don’t dismiss him immediately as a jerk, because he really does go deeper than that. Don’t let him know I told you that though :D This is the last of the How Do series thingy :D unless you people want a third story for each couple, split POV O.o;; that might be fun to do… Gotta update some other stuff first though So read, enjoy, and please review!!

I don’t fucking believe it. He’s locked himself in his room. To say ‘locked’, is, of course, an understatement. He’s barricaded himself, won't let anyone in to see him.

All because I walked out when he told me he loved me. I mean come on, really…

He’s so immature now. I thought he was better than that. Apparently I was wrong. It happens all too often for me, but there.

If he stays locked in his room for very much longer I’m going to start to feel guilty. Damnit. This is all his fault. I hate feeling guilty.

And then some idiot had to go and tell the teachers that I should be the one to get him out. What the hell were they thinking? Even the teachers are concerned enough about him by now.

It’s been three days. You’d have thought he’d be over it by now. Surely he can't have been telling the truth.

Other people have told me they love me, you know. Far too many to be remotely decent, but since I don’t really care about decency, fuck that. They all got over it in a matter of hours. They certainly didn’t mourn for days like he’s doing.

When I got called out of class to see to a little ‘difficulty’ that had risen up, I wasn't expecting it to be him. He always seemed so self-sufficient… so calm and cool and collected. Fuck that. What do I know, right? I’m the school slut, how could I possibly understand.

When they told me it was him – to say I was shocked would be such a small understatement. It took a while, but they did eventually persuade me to go. Of course I didn’t really want to. If I see him, it’s going to make me feel so bad… It nearly always does, you know. Which is why I tend to avoid the declared ones until they are at least making efforts to pull themselves out of whatever slump I drove them into.

But I did it. I went to his dorm door and stood there, waiting for everyone to quit watching so I could get it over and done with. They didn’t move. Damn them.

So, I knocked politely on his door. It wasn't like I could do anything else, not with teachers watching and stuff. Predictably, there was no answer.

So I ignored protocol, which I had never had much respect for anyway, and banged on the door loudly, swearing at him forcefully enough to actually get him to hear me, and more than that, to listen to me.

I rather think the teachers would have dragged me away from the door once they got over their shock at my tactics, but before they could even grab me to pull me away, he slammed open the door and threw himself into my arms, crying compellingly enough to make the adults pause.

I took the opportunity to drag him into the dorm and shut the door behind us. He obviously wasn't up to doing anything but cry, so I just stood there, helplessly, as he sobbed out words into my neck and shoulder.

I only made sense of half of what he was saying, but fuck, even that much was enough to make me feel terrible. Seriously. He always had been a favourite of mine, and this was no way to treat a favourite. Especially if…

If…

Shit.

Eventually I just pulled away and pushed him down onto the bed, where he simply stared up at me with those big, dark brown eyes of his.

It was his eyes that attracted me in the first place.

Oh sure, he’s fucking cute over all, you know, but his eyes are incredible. Utterly enchanting. Bloody hell, I’m beginning to sound like one of those fucking fairy tale princes. Bunch of pansies.

After I noticed his eyes though, I started wanting to  him, and once I started that…

Well, I guess I grew fond of the brat. Yes. Me. Being affectionate. Uncharacteristic, isn’t it?

It was so easy to snare him, to make him think he loved me. Because of course he doesn’t mean it.

Sure, it’s nice to think he does, but hell. Love me? The kid’s got to be crazy to even try. Nobody loves me. It’s too much effort for them.

It was fucking easy to see through him, you know? All he needed was a kiss and a cuddle and some pet names that I wouldn’t be caught dead being called, and he was mine for the taking.

So I took him.

It’s hardly my fault that he started feeling something more, and I suppose that as comfortable as it makes me feel… I can't blame him either.

Seeing as I was the one who seduced him though, I guess you could say it was my fault.

So maybe it is. Maybe it is my fault I played the cuddles too much, and he fell in love with me. Maybe it is my fault that he doesn’t seem to want anyone else now.

How do you reap that which you have sown?

If I had known how fucking hard it was going to be, I would have given up on his bloody roommate a long time before I even grew interested in his striking, dark eyes. I always was a sucker for a pair of pretty eyes.

Of course, like I’ve said, he’s more attractive than that as well. His hair has those blue highlights when the light strikes it, the kind of shine that doesn’t come when people die their hair. It’s purely natural, and he’s one of the few fucks I have who don’t try to change their hair color or eye color. It’s… I guess it’s kinda a novel experience.

Fuck.

It is my fault.

I suppose I can go off on a rant and explain how I didn’t see it coming, about how I wish I could tell him that I love him back…

It would all be a pile of shit, and I know it.

He’d know it.

I knew it was coming. I knew all along, how those cuddles affected him, and I kept right on doing that. Actually, I even increased the amount. It takes all sorts, huh?

And that shit about loving him back…

I like the kid. I know that. I really do like him, am surprisingly (even to myself) genuinely affectionate of him…

But I can't love him. I don’t do love. It’s not my thing. It doesn’t sit naturally on me, and…

Fuck it all to hell, it makes me scared.

Yes. You happy? You must think I’m a selfish jerk, a prick with no feelings. Fine. I can accept that, I have no problems with you so long as you don’t verbalize your problems with me…

And if you tell anyone I said I was scared, I’ll kill you. Or at least feed you school food whilst playing some unheard of outlandish fiddling band with a solo accordion. For weeks. Tied up in a chair. With no…

Anyway, once I realized that I started to actually like the brat, I pulled away. I started looking for a new favourite. It isn’t that hard, believe it or not. When you look like I do, and you know exactly how to play the game…

It’s fucking easy, man.

And when I told him, the expression in his eyes that told me I was his world… It crumpled. Fell flat dead and landed at my fucking feet on the floor.

I tipped my hat to him, and sidled out the door.

My new fuck isn’t as good as he was. He isn’t as cute, his eyes aren't as pretty, he doesn’t say the same types of things afterwards… He’s a poor second to the brat.

At least when I was cuddling with him, he made an effort not to be romantic, despite the fact that he usually ended up snuggling somewhere against my chest.

I guess he is clever. He must have earned his marks somehow. He managed to actually get me to start talking about myself.

How the hell did he manage that?

I’m not too sure myself.

How do you reap the crops?

He’s fucking helpless without me, I could see it in his eyes as he stared up at me, in the way they teared up, in the bloody pitiful expression he had.

What else could I do?

I got onto the bed with him, and I cuddled him, letting him sag against me, let him sob his soul out onto my shoulder.

I told you. I am fond of him. No matter what my actions might say.

When he had tired out, and he was just quietly leaning against me, I realized he had fallen asleep. I stood up, lowered him smoothly onto his bed, and walked out, closing the door behind me.

I told you that too. I’m fucking terrified of the boy now.

I can't feel that way over anyone. It’s not supposed to work like that. I fuck anything pretty on two legs, get over them, move onto the next one. I’m not supposed to get hung up over one bloody fool like him.

It’s stupid, I suppose. My entire lifestyle. I know they all think I’m a slut. I know what they say is true. I also know the things that they don’t.

Don’t get me wrong, my sob story isn’t a load of shit like some other whores. I haven’t had that bad a life, actually.

…

All right, so it hasn’t been perfect. What’s it to you?

I keep seeing his eyes now, as I saw them last. Heart broken and aching, begging me to hold him. I did. I did what those eyes implored me to do. I couldn't deny him that, even if I had tried to.

I gave him that much.

He should be happy with it. Fuck, it’s more than any other one person got from me. Hell, it’s shit loads more.

He’s still in his room. The teachers have apparently called his parents. They needn't have bothered.

In some tender moment a while ago, he told me all about his parents. The teachers really should have saved their breath. Poor kid.

It’s my fault.

But I couldn't love him back. I can’t. I don’t even want to try.

Why don’t I want to try?

Honestly, probably because I’m afraid to find out I can. Afraid to find out that I will fall for him as well. I can handle affection, I like cuddling and making out and simple snuggling as well as the next guy, when I’m in the mood. But don’t ask me for love. That goes beyond the limit. It crosses the line of what anyone has any right to ask for, and it’s far beyond the borders of anything I want to give.

Nobody should love me. Nobody should even try.

I’m just a fuck up.

And don’t get all sympathetic and shit on me either. I don’t need that kind of crap, not from anyone. Especially not from a certain teenager with stunning brown eyes that are currently haunting me.

I knew what I’d do to him when I went in and comforted him that first time. I knew exactly how he felt about getting close enough to other people to accept a cuddle. I did it anyway. I really can't stand up to myself against a pair of beautiful eyes.

They had changed, last time I saw them.

They weren’t glowingly radiant any more. They didn’t beckon and offer boundless love that might or might not have been real. They were wounded almost beyond repair.

I think everyone thinks I’m the one to fix them.

It’s in their accusing eyes when I walk by, in the teacher’s voices when they assign me homework or another detention for being in another room that isn’t my own after lights out. I’m beginning to forget the colour of my desk set, I haven’t been in my own room so long.

They want me to heal the ache in his heart, the despair and desolation in his eyes…

And it’s all I can do to ignore them.

I know it’s my fault.

I know I never should have started this whole thing.

How do you reap what you sow?

I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll be able to.

But his broken eyes linger in my mind, unforgettable.

I’m too scared to fix them…

And I’m too scared not to.

Fuck.