Let's please not hear any complaints. I know I am working on Rule 11 and should stay working on that one. I also know (for those of you who know me and have access to it) I should be working on Dead Girl Walking. And Kiyoshi, I have not forgotten the other one. I swear. All that said… you can probably figure out that I really have no business starting a new story. But I really don't care, either. This is all that's coming to mind, and I really have no idea where it's gonna go. Ah well. Maybe it just flat-out won't go anywhere. XD That would suck. Anyway… yeah. Well, in theory, this one is going to take the back burner in comparison to Rule 11. Dead Girl Walking… *sigh* I suck at battle scenes. Any tips? My secret project… no one cares about that except me and Kiyoshi so I basically write it when I have time and inspiration. Or just inspiration. Cause if I have inspiration for a story, I have this habit of MAKING time for it. Like this one!

And there are a lot of characters named after/based on people I know/talk to in this story. If I like you enough to put you in here, you either know it already, or you're not reading this, so it didn't really seem important to tell you about it (so why exactly am I talking to you as though you actually are reading this? Just in case, I suppose…).

Also this story is dedicated to my lovely writing buddy, Matt. :) Go Team Draco. But please note: the Matt in this story is influenced by but not based on the real Matt. ;)

Also… you can more or less ignore the italics at the beginning of the chapters. I need to get my rambling out, so that's where I do it. It's very rarely important. One important thing: I will answer all messages at the bottom of the page. If you want a private response, pm me instead. :)

OH YEAH! I almost forgot the second warning. This story is slash. There will be language. If you don't like those, please navigate away from this story and make everyone's life a bit easier. It's rated M for a reason.

Kiyoshi'sGirl64 and Kiyoshi

Chapter One: Wishful Thinking

I sit alone at a table in the dining hall, reading the seventh Harry Potter book for the third time. I'm on the first chapter and every time I see Snape's name I start laughing. I must look like an idiot, trying not to choke on my lemonade. Whatever. I can't think of anything except my friend who is so in love with Alan Rickman.

Then again… can I really talk when I have a poster of Ryan Kelly up in my dorm, for the sole reason that he's beautiful? Oh screw this. We share the same disease and I know it. The disease of being attracted to men who are too old for us. Ryan Kelly: thirty three. Brad Paisley: thirty eight (married with kids, damn it). Gerard Butler: forty one. Alan Rickman: sixty-fucking-five.

I sigh and try to concentrate on my book. Liking old men is weird. I'm barely eighteen, for god's sake. Ryan is the only one who isn't at least twice my age. And Alan Rickman is more than three times my age. That's fucking creepy.

Suddenly a guy comes over to me. "You mind if I sit here?" he asks, indicating the seat across from me.

I barely glance up. I shrug then return to my book. He sits down and almost immediately begins fidgeting. He doesn't even have any food. Why the hell does he want to sit here? "You always sit alone?" I shrug again. Why can't he just leave me alone?

As if catching that I don't want him here, he stands. "What's your name?" I look up in surprise. And holy fuck his eyes are blue. I can hardly keep myself from gaping. Having eyes that beautiful should be illegal, except in airbrushed photos like the one of Ryan Kelly up in my room.

"Collin," I finally manage to say.

He nods and smiles. "I'm Matt."

"Why'd you come over here?" my mouth asks without my brain's permission.

He grins. "My friends dared me to go talk to the kid in the corner," he says. I feel my face heating up. Thank god I never actually blush. "I keep telling the girls you sit alone because you're gay. The guys don't believe me. But Rachel and Liz insisted I find out for sure."

Bastard. "No." No, being gay is not why I sit alone.

"Well, I gotta go tell them," he says. "They'll be crushed." He turns to walk away, and my eyes follow him. He goes over to a group of people—three guys and two girls—he sits down and tells them something. And then they start arguing. Loudly. Unfortunately they're far enough away that I can only hear them, not what they're saying. But the people closer to them are all staring. I snicker. Morons.

And then Matt returns, scowling. "You want to eat with us?"

I stare. "What?" Is this kid really asking me to sit at his table and eat with him and his friends?

"Do you want to eat with us?" he asks again. "Like, actually talk to people, as opposed to sitting here reading a book. You do know how to interact with people, don't you?"

"Uhhh…" I'd like to, but I really don't want to. I'm not stupid enough to think that I wouldn't sit there staring at you, just hoping you'd look at me so I could see your eyes. "No," I answer. "I was just getting ready to leave."

He stares at me. With those blue eyes. Then he says, "Um, no. You've taken, like, two bites of your sandwich." Then he grabs my book, snapping it shut—losing my place, by the way, damn him—and grabs my upper arm. "Get your food, you're eating with us."

"Do I have any say in this matter?" I ask, jerking my arm away from him.

He thinks a moment, then says, "I suppose you can sit here and eat alone…" Then he turns and walks away. Thank god. Wait. Wait, wait, wait. The bastard took my book with him. I sigh in defeat and follow him. And I bring my food with me, even though I'm really not hungry anymore.

His friends look delighted. "You came over," one of the guys says, sounding happy. Well, maybe happy isn't the right word. Somewhere between neutral and happy, I guess. Then he offers me his hand. "My names Carl."

I shake his hand. Then they all introduce themselves. Liz, a girl with hair dyed bright blue. Alex, a kid with his hair cut short in a distinctly military fashion. Jonathan, a tall kid with dark brown hair.

Then Matt says of the last girl, who's sitting there listening to her iPod and ignoring everyone, "That's Rachel. If she ever talks to you voluntarily, you're lucky."

"Tell me about it," Liz says, sticking out her tongue.

"So," Carl asks me. "What's your major?"

Why is that the first thing everyone always freaking asks you in college? He didn't even ask my name. Then again, they probably already know my name because of Matt. "Professional and Creative Writing double major, with minors in Latin and Spanish," I recite. Why couldn't my major and minor be shorter?

They all stare. "Okay, that's cool," Carl says, his southern accent obvious. "My major is Chem education. I want to be one of the crazy chemistry teachers."

"Architectural engineering," Liz sings out. "With an emphasis on electrical engineering." Now it's my turn to stare. So she's one of those people who's gonna make me feel stupid, all the time.

"Computer engineering," Jonathan answers. Wonderful. What is with all these engineers? I don't understand.

"Social work," Matt mutters. "With a minor in theatre."

"We're still trying to figure out how those two go together," Alex notes. "I'm a psychology major. When I'm actually allowed to be here and they're not shipping me overseas."

Rachel still doesn't say anything, so Matt says, "She's a cultural studies major, with a minor in Chinese."

And then Carl says, "So, Collin"—yeah, Matt definitely told them my name—"why don't you sit with anyone?"

Cause I have no friends because I don't go out of my way to talk to people. Because all of my friends are going to college in different places across the country. Because my best friend went to Utah and is never coming back. I shrug and lie. "All of my friends are in class."

"Liar," Matt says, not even looking up from his salad. "You eat alone every day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Always alone."

How the fuck does he know that? Has he been—"Have you been watching me?"

He freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. The rest of the table starts cracking up. Except Rachel, although she does let out a small chuckle. "No."

"Liar," Carl accuses, still trying not to laugh. "You watch him every day, you moron." What? He's been watching me? I feel violated.

I jump up. "I gotta go. I have Latin homework to do."

"Nice going," Liz says to Carl. "You just ruined everything."

"What?" Carl answers. "He flat-out told Matt he wasn't gay." I never said that. I just said I wasn't sitting alone because I was gay. I'm not sure anyone knows. I mean, Kelsie knows… and my sister… but I'm not sure anyone here knows. Well, Greg probably suspects, what with the Ryan Kelly poster. Whatever. I don't really care. So long as my mother doesn't find out. She would murder me.

I go back up to my room and flop over on my bed and stare up at Ryan Kelly. Damn it. Even in a freaking airbrushed poster his eyes aren't as gorgeous as Matt's. I pull my pillow out from under the blankets and slam it over my eyes. Damn it. I hate straight guys.

Greg walks in. He stops and I can only assume he's staring at me. Sure enough, he asks, "You okay, Collin?"

"Yes," I say. It comes out muffled because of the pillow and I'm not even sure he hears me.

But then he pulls the pillow off my face and asks, "You want to talk about it?"

"No." Because nothing's wrong.

He looks at me for a long time. Then he says, "This is really awkward. I never even had to talk about this with my best friend in high school."

What in hell is he talking about? We're not talking about anything. Especially not Matt. Then he says, "My best friend's name was Cara. I never had to talk about guy problems with her. Girl problems all the time. You'd think talking about guy problems would be no big deal."

I turn to stare at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I ask.

He looks at me as though he thinks it's obvious. "Cara and I would talk about girls all the time. And Daniel, when he bothered to show up for school. But girl problems… Cara would have problems with the girls she liked, and I'd have to talk to her about it. I feel like I should help you like that. Problem is… I've never had to talk about guy problems before, not even to a girl."

"I am not having guy problems," I snap.

He raises his eyebrows. "Whatever you say, Collin. You're just acting like Cara always would when she'd decide a girl was hot then immediately realize the girl was straight. Really frustrated. And I consider you my friend, even if you don't consider me yours. I was just trying to help." He shrugs and logs onto his computer. "If you want to talk, I'll listen."


I start going to breakfast and lunch and dinner at the most inconvenient times possible. And I don't see Matt—or his friends—again for nearly three weeks. But just as I'm starting to relax and get back into the normal swing of things, loud, disturbingly familiar voices enter the cafeteria. I duck my head and continue writing. Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me, don'tseeme, don'tseeme, don'tseeme, don'tseemedon'tseemedon'tseeme.

They see me.

"Collin!" Alex—his name was Alex, wasn't it?—calls out. "Come eat with us! Carl's sorry for what he said last time." Why would I care about what he said? I have to avoid Matt. Even after three weeks those fucking eyes won't leave me alone. I glance around. He's not with them.

So I nod, grab my plate and go over to where they've dropped their things. They're back in a few minutes, and everyone's loud and laughing again. I wonder how long they've known each other. Not that it really matters. "Aren't you gonna say anything?" Liz asks, nudging me. "You're being as quiet as Rachel!"

I shrug and continue eating my pizza. "Why'd you change your eating pattern, Collin?" Jonathan asks. "We've been looking for you?" And I've been avoiding you. I don't want to eat with you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to think about you, and I especially don't want to think about Matt.

Suddenly someone's phone rings. Loudly. Alex answers it, waving at the others to be quiet. "We're at the dining hall. Why? Where are you?" There's a pause as he waits for an answer. "Damn it, you're moping again? Well you have a goddamn unlimited meal plan. Get down here and eat with us, or I'm gonna come up there and kick your ass." He angrily hits the end button. Then he looks at the others and says quite calmly, "If my idiot roommate's not down here in ten minutes, who's going to help me beat some sense into him?"

Everyone agrees immediately, including Rachel, which sort of surprises me. Then Alex looks at me. "You going to help knock some sense through Matt's thick skull if he doesn't come down here?" I shake my head. Not a chance. No. Never. "You'll come with us, at least?" Alex asks. "You can guard the door to our dorm so that he can't run."

And be in Matt's dorm room. I think not. I shake my head. But then Jonathan says, "Looks like we won't have to. Look who's decided to show up." I spin around in my seat and, sure enough, Matt is walking towards our table. He sees me and freezes. I'm frozen too.

And then Liz hops off her seat and goes to drag him over to our table. His eyes never leave mine. Those fucking eyes. I can't look away either. She sits him down next to me. "Now quit moping. Play nice."

"I have homework," Matt says, standing back up.

Carl reaches out and jerks him back into his seat. "It's Friday. You are the worst procrastinator I've ever met in my life. You won't be doing your homework till ten o'clock Sunday night. And that's the homework for your Monday-Wednesday-Friday classes. You won't do your homework for your Tuesday-Thursday classes till Monday at ten o'clock."

Matt scowls and sits back down. I do my best to ignore him. But now that he's here, I suddenly remember that it's not just his eyes. His medium brown hair is cut short—not as short as Alex's, but considerably shorter than mine, which is constantly falling in my eyes. I always liked guys with longer hair. Not long hair, but hair longer than Matt's. But it doesn't matter anymore. The hair goes with the eyes. Perfectly.

And when he accidently bumps his arm against mine as he gets down to get a soda—escorted by Liz to make sure he doesn't run away—I'm forcibly reminded of how his hand felt on my arm. Damn it. Why does he have to be so goddamn gorgeous? And do I just think he's attractive, or is he actually as attractive as he seems? Aw fuck, I don't even know anymore. Does it even freaking matter?

"It doesn't freak you out does it?" Alex asks me.

"What?" I ask absentmindedly. I'm not even really paying attention.

"Matt," he answers.

"Why would he bother me?" I ask, jerked violently back into the conversation by his name. Yes, he bothers me. Because he's so fucking attractive and it's just not fair.

Alex shrugs. "It seems like you've been avoiding him, not us. Which means it's him you have a problem with. And you've been tense the whole time he's been here."

I shake my head. "I just… having someone watch you is creepy." Watch me with those blue, blue, blue, blue eyes.

Carl sighs. "Matt's odd. The fact that he didn't approach on his own is really out of character. He's really not shy at all."

"He didn't seem shy to me," I mutter.

"Really?" Jonathan asks. "Part of the reason he was watching you for so long is because it took us two weeks to convince him to talk to you." He rolls his eyes. "Matt just…"

"I just what, Jonathan?" Matt demands.

"You just bewilder me," Jonathan finishes finally. "You act like you want one thing and then… oh screw this. Just quit being an idiot, Matt. I still don't know why you thought he was gay. He doesn't look gay at all." Why is the fact that I like guys an integral part of this conversation?

"What's your point?" Matt asks. His mood seems to have improved. I wonder what Liz said to him.

Jonathan gapes at him as though the answer's obvious. Then I ask Matt, "Why does it bother you so much?"

Matt looks at me and then says evenly. "It doesn't. It's just frustrating." Tell me about it. He sighs. "Normally I can tell when someone's gay. I've never been wrong before. Sometimes it takes more than a couple meetings for me to come to a conclusion, but I've always been right. Till you. Maybe it was just wishful thinking." He looks up at the ceiling with those blue eyes. I don't even like blue eyes. I like green eyes. Green. Not blue. Damn it. I want a guy with longish hair and green eyes. Not shortish hair and blue eyes. Him being gay would also be a bonus.

I need to get away from Matt. I glance at my watch. 1:37. I stand. "I gotta go. I have class."

They all shrug and nod. As I'm leaving, I can't get Matt's eyes out of my head. How the fuck am I supposed to concentrate on Spanish when the only thing I can think about are those goddamn eyes? Something stupid's gonna slip out of my mouth. Probably something along the lines of Matt tiene ojos azules y él es muy guapo. Kill me now.

As I push open the door to the Spanish classroom. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. What the hell is that supposed to mean?