Few notes.

          This is not my first story. It is the only one I like at all though, so bear with me. Feel free to criticize freely, although I will tell you right now I will most likely ignore you. Sorry.

          Oh yeah, this is Yaoi. Which means guy x guy. Slash. Shouen-ai. (I know I spelt that wrong.) get it? No… then you are kinda dense.

          This so far has no plot… although I do have a few ideas for it.

          I apologize in advance, but my updates are going to be few and far in between. I don't write except under certain circumstances, and they don't appear but once a new moon or some such crap. At some point this may be upgraded to 'R' because of some stuff I may include, i.e. past physical and sexual abuse.  

        Hi. My name is Corie. Yes, that's an 'ie' on the end of my name. Why? Because my parents were cocaine addicts and in need of serious therapy. No, actually, my mother has this weird fixation with changing the spelling of words that end in 'y' to 'ie.' She's a special one, my mom. Currently she is driving me to my new boarding school. I am actually really excited about this.

        Most kids wouldn't be too thrilled to be moving to a new city, going to a new school, etc, the whole spiel. But I am. I'm just special that way. My mom and dad just recently got divorced. Which I consider to be one of the greatest things my mom could have ever done. My dad was always putting her down and insulting her. He just pretended like I didn't exist, so I was ok. But after the divorce was finalized last month, my mom got a raise and got transferred. About the same time I got a full scholarship into this really prestigious all-male boarding school. The lucky thing is, my boarding school and my mom's new position are both in the same area. Only twenty minutes away. It's great. Now if only she would let me get a car…

        I am really excited about this new school, like I mentioned before. I was kind of an outcast at my old school. There was this incident in eighth grade with the principal, my underwear and green jello. That's all the detail I am gonna go into on that subject. But anyway, since then I haven't had any close friends, just the occasional "friendly acquaintance."

        That and I was sort of, again, made an outcast for my sexual preferences. Yup, I'm gay. And proud of it. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna go around flaunting it at this new school. Not until I get a feeling for the atmosphere. They couldn't tell me who my roommate was, so I didn't get a chance to talk to said roommate before today. The day I move in.

        Throughout this inner monologue (see above…) we have pretty much reached my new, ultra-elite school. By pretty much reached I mean we have reached the gates to the school. This means only about ten minutes more to actually reach the school. Ok, so I exaggerate. But it's still a long-ass driveway.

        Hmmm… maybe during this tedious long drive I should give y'all a physical description. I am 5'11", with 'raven black' hair. With red and blue streaks. My eyes are a frightening shade of red. Because of the contacts. Without the contacts they are this bland blue-grey color. I have both ears pierced multiple times, a tongue stud, two eyebrow piercings, both above the right eye, and two tattoos. One is a medium sized silver and red dragon on my back and the other is a black vine that twists about my right arm. My favorite color is black, so I generally wear black. All the time. With accents of 'blood red' or other deep, vivid colors. No jewelry, aside from my many piercings.

         I guess people think I am kind of scary or something. Hmmm… I wonder where they got that impression… I don't encourage it or anything… tee-hee… yup… I have now officially confirmed I am gay. I just tee-heed.

        Ok, while ruminating on myself my mom has navigated the grand driveway to park us right in front of… Clairdon Hall. Which is my dorm building! So me and my mom (yes, I know, bad grammar becomes me), start carrying in bags and boxes. Luckily I'm on the first floor. This makes me irrationally happy. I hate stairs. And hills. Good thing this campus is flat. They mailed me my room key last week, so I am all prepared. Opening the door, I note that my roommate is already here. And unpacked. Damn. Either he has been here a while, he is a real neat freak or he was bored.

        He, however, is nowhere in sight. Meh, I will meet him sooner or later. He is sharing a room with me. Maybe he is cute… and into guys… well, one can dream. My luck, he will probably be a 6'10" homophobe jock. My mom enters my room right then.

        "Corie James Anderson! Get your butt out to that car and unload it. I may be she-woman, but I am, right now, choosing to disregard my super powers in order to make my son slave. Now get to it!"

        That's my mom. I told you she was special. (And for all of you who added an 'Ed' after that, bug off! That's my mom you're talking about there!) Heaving a huge dramatic sigh, I reply, "But moooooooooom… too much slaving will make me shrivel up and die… and what would my tattoos look like then?"

        With my help the rest of the boxes and bags were unloaded. Surveying my room, I selected a few of the plastic bins I had brought my stuff in and emptied them on my bed. I then brought them back out to my mom's car. We said our goodbyes and she took off, after getting me to promise to call later when I got all settled in.

        I headed back to my room. Get this. I ran into someone. Around a corner. Cliché, no? Well don't worry, I didn't 'look up into gorgeous (insert color) eyes and seemed to drown in them.' Nope, cus I think I knocked the guy out cold. Oops. Well, it was his fault. Coming around the corner like he had no idea I was there. Come to think of it, he probably didn't. Oh, well.

        I look down at the inert body at my feet. Hmmm… what to do? Hide the evidence by throwing his body in a river with concrete shoes? Or… maybe I should help. But… what do I do? Luckily for me, that decision was taken out of my hands. Two things prevented me from running away. One: I had been caught at the scene of the crime by some short dude. And I am talking short! Messy red hair and flashing green eyes surveyed me from below. Far below. Damn… I do believe I have found the school's midget.

        "What did you do to my roommate?!" the redhead glared, seemingly un-intimidated by my appearance. I mean, honestly! It's not everyday you see a guy with red eyes, black hair with red and blue streaks… yada, yada…

        Getting back to the problem at hand, the other reason I couldn't flee the scene of the crime (crime? Wtf?) was because someone had grabbed my baggy black pant leg. In a vice-tight grip. I look down and it's the dude I knocked out. Said dude has brown hair, and brown eyes. Kind of blah-ie (look! She's got me doing it too! With the whole 'ie' thing!), but also kind of cute. But again, not drowning in said boy's 'gorgeous brown eyes.'

        "Well, you see, there was a slight misdirection of traffic at this corridor. 'Honestly, they should put up traffic lights, it would make such tragic accidents almost non-existent!" I tell the short redhead, extremely seriously. And with a fake British accent. Not that the redhead or blah-boy can tell. I'm just good like that.

        Redhead blinks. Blah-boy snorts. Yes, he snorted. This amuses me. Tee-hee. Damn there I go again. Anywaaaaaay….

        "Sorry 'bout that, luv." I tell blah-boy, extending a hand to help him up. To my surprise, he blushes. I blink. Keeping up my British pretense, which is actually slipping into something Irish, I tell them, "The name's Corie, pleased ta make your acquaintance."

        Redhead blinks. (wtf is with everyone blinking?) "Malcolm."

        Blah-boy smirks. I eye him warily. I don't like it when people smirk. For two very good reasons. One: they are probably planning something. Something evil that involves me. And evil being perpetrated upon me. Two: it gives me ideas. BAD ideas. Especially if it is a guy who smirks. Like blah-boy here. When he smirks, he's real cute.

        "Igor." He says with a thick Russian accent. A thick, very fake Russian accent. I smirk. He smirks. Then we both burst out laughing, leaving the redhead standing there, staring in confusion. (With the occasional perturbed blink)

        "Seriously though, my name's Patrick."

        "Yes, I thought Igor was a bit over the top. So where do you and shortie live?" I ask. Can't hurt to know where he lives, right? I stifle a giggle. (I am such a girl! Tee-heeing, then giggling?? What is this world coming to?)

        "Room 106. You?" Patrick asks.

        "Who you callin' short? I'm not short! I'm… not done growing yet!" proclaims the redhead. Yes, I am still calling him that. It fits better then 'Malcolm.'

        "107. Looks like we're neighbors." I comment, content to ignore the redhead. I want to see how red his face will get. Or how long it will take for his eyes to bug out of his head completely. That would amuse me.

        "I should go. I need to finish unpacking. Before Malc beats me up and all." Patrick says, with a wink. (Dude! Is he flirting, or picking on the short dude? I don't know! Oh the perplexation. And no… that isn't a word, but I will use it anyway.)

        "Me too. Although I don't know if my roommate is as dangerous as yours." I am valiantly fighting down snorts and giggles, the latter of which would be extremely embarrassing to have heard.

        So we head down the corridor towards our rooms, Malc (where in the world did Malc come from? Freaky.) turning progressively redder and redder as we ignore him. Patrick and I make plans to meet for dinner, graciously including Malc and my roommate (if for whatever reason he would like to come) in our plans.

        A thought strikes me at this very minute. Wouldn't it make more sense for the redhead to be named Patrick? You know, what with the Irish coloring and stuff? Whatever. Stuff like that makes my head hurt if I think too long about it.

        Ok, I am now in my room, unpacking my stuff. First thing set up? My stereo of course! Can't live without it. Soon enough I have my music playing at full bass, sure to annoy anyone in a ten mile radius. With my loud kick-ass music it is no wonder I don't hear my roommate come in. In fact, I don't even know he is there until the music comes to a sudden and tragic end.

        Feeling sad at the sudden and tragic end of my music, I am about ready to compose a eulogy when I realize… my music is off! And I didn't turn it off! Therefore, get this folks…., someone else must have! (my logic astounds even me, I know!) So I turn. Aaaaaaaaand… it's my new roommate!

        I'm now occupied with the art of ogling. (To your left, you will see a prime example of ogling. This one's got it down to an art form folks…) Ok, Patrick was cute. This guy is freakin' beautiful! Though dressed a bit odd. He has silver hair. It shines in the sunlight from the window. (ok, bad cliché… shines in the sunlight… gah…) Dark purple eyes stare at me from a gorgeously shaped face. He is lithe and lean, but wearing baggy clothes. Blue jeans with wide legs, a long-sleeved t-shirt, gloves and a scarf. It is fall. And he is wearing gloves and a scarf. I am going to assume it is a fashion statement. It's a good look for him, that's for sure.

        Then he spoke… and get this… it broke my ogling quest! He gave me a funny look, then proceeded to spiel this off rapid fire and without pause. "My name is Kristopher. You can call me Kris."  (tee-hee!)

        "C-Corie." I raise an eyebrow at myself. Did I just stutter? No… not possible. An uncomfortable silence descends. The only sound is from a ticking clock. Where? Who knows? I occupy myself trying to find the clock without being to obvious about it… Ah-ha! There it is! A neon blue clock is hung on the wall across from his bed. Nope! Don't think about bed. Or his bed. Or what you could be doing to him on his bed…

        *Bang! Bang! Bang!*

        Wow! I think I set a new world record for umm… jumping high when startled out of pornographic scenes involving one's new roommate. That was the door! Right… the door. Vaulting a pile of boxes, I reach the door and pull it open. And there is Patrick, whom I have now decided to call Rick, and shorti-I mean Malc.

        "Dinner?" Rick asks.

        "Yup!" Replies me, all chipper and eager like. "Yo, Kris, wanna come to dinner with us? This is shorti-I mean Malcolm, and this is Rick. They are our neighbors."

        "Rick?" Asks Patrick.

        "Rick." Says I.

        He shrugs. I grin. Shortie is turning red at the mention of his height.

        "That's alright. I ate already." Kris tells us.

        I snag a random jacket, suppressing a feeling, deep down, of… disappointment. (I know what you were thinking! Get your mind out of the gutter!) "Alright then. Seeya!"

This seems like a good place to stop. I hope you enjoyed. And maybe found a few parts funny. Give me reviews! I am sooo addicted… even though I have never ever had one before. I hear they are good though… :-P