A/N: Pandora Hearts isn't mine (damn copyrights). With that aside, this is a little idea I cooked up that I'm hoping might turn out good. As this is the first chapter, it's a tad on the short side, but otherwise the chapters should be decent lengths. With that mentioned, here are some warnings;

1. This is a very, very, very yaoi fanfic, which means that if utter gayness makes you uncomfortable, this story is not for you m'dear!

2. The rating is M... not for this chapter, but for some in the future, but I will give a warning before they get, well... smutty... :D.

Thanks! Hope ya like it!

The name Xerxes Break wasn't an unfamiliar one.

Those fumbling teenagers and unbelievably bored adults who followed such genres as twisted, dark fantasy and new-age crap knew his name well. He was the author who was very often referred to as "fearless", he was the writer who littered his novels with those sensitive social issues that had everyone gasping from time to time.

Above all, he was in desperate need of a new plot line.

"Why don't you cook up something involving the gay community?" His agent, Reim, had suggested over the phone.

Break could practically hear the careless shrug speaking volumes through his purple cell-phone, and he matched that shrug with an eye-roll.

Emphasis upon the singular "eye".

"That was an issue twenty years ago, silly Reim." Break commented, his voice unwavering in the usual chipper tone. "It isn't edgy enough. Not for me."

"Then throw some other stuff in. If you mix homosexuality with something else that's sensitive as of now, it will be edgy enough to fall off the shelves. You'll know what to do, Kevin, you always come up with something."

Kevin.

Reim was the only person who knew that Xerxes Break was merely an alias, a fake name to keep attention away off the white-haired male. After all, being an author involved expressing himself, and that much expression caused for a great deal of vulnerability.

Kevin had no intentions of seeming vulnerable.

"How sweet of you to notice, Reim dear." Break gushed. "I suppose you're right; I'll think of something."

"Good; keep me posted."

And with that, all conversation turned null and void.

Plopping himself upon his couch, the deep purple couch with his purely white coat strewn haphazardly over the back, Kevin twiddled the key-chain hanging from his phone. It was a methodical gesture, one that expressed just how much of a pickle Kevin was in, to play with the miniature sized doll- whom he was inclined to call "Emily"- with wavy, blue hair that tickled the tips of his fingers.

Reim's suggestion could be worth looking into, but there were a few holes Kevin just couldn't get past. First of all, he hadn't enough experience with homosexuals to really write for them, much less think up characters. Second, while he usually kept his encounters in the intimacy-department at a minimum, Kevin had more or less considered himself straight. Whenever he had felt those unnecessary urges, he had always indulged in the company of women, whether by a random pickup or a prostitute.

The baseline of it all was in that Kevin was unsure of his ability to write a novel with an underlying gay theme, when he had absolutely no experience in that department himself.

"... Experience... ." Kevin mused upon the word, repeating it from his brain to his lips in a steady mantra.

As an author, Kevin had learned quickly that the best results came from experience. Hell, one time he had even chucked apples from his apartment, ten floors off the ground, just to hear exactly how they sounded, and see exactly how they splattered. He had accidentally pelted a pedestrian in the forehead and just barely evaded arrest, but, the experience had given him exactly the description he desired.

… By all hell. That was the answer.

"Well, Emily," Kevin began, greeting the inanimate doll with words and a stroke of his hand. "I never thought I'd say this, but... looks like we're going to a gay club tonight."

With an easy press of his fingers against the base of Emily's soft head, the doll nodded in response.

Emily hung from her chain outside Kevin's pocket, twirling and swinging against his thigh as he strode down the street. In his own, twisted mind, Kevin imagined she was dancing with excitement. He himself had a slight skip in his step, his white-buckle boots not so much landing on the pavement as they were bouncing.

"Be on your best behavior, now, Emily~!" Kevin cooed to the key-chain, securing a notebook between his underarms and side as a bright escapade of neon yanked him forth.

It was even brighter inside, Kevin realized, after entering the club.

A spectrum of color, mixed within the heavy air of sweat and booze greeted Kevin with an absolute air of frivolity. There was so much motion, it was almost too much for his one eye to handle. Beyond that, only ten seconds in the club had rendered his ears practically useless, the heavy bass grinding against his eardrums like sweaty lovers. This granted Kevin a momentary lapse in his usually clownish facade. With only one good eye, he relied heavily on his ability to hear, so for a few beats of his erratic heart he felt that disgusting blow of vulnerability strip him down to meat and bones.

He had to remind himself that he was not in a threatening situation, or not yet, at least.

Inhaling deeply, Kevin reached one hand downward to stroke Emily's blue hair, while the other made a subconscious fix of his hair, only stopping once he was sure the left side of his face was covered completely.

Now, he could continue.

He took a sharp beeline away from the dancing crowd, instead picking a nice stool at the head of the bar and making sure not to sit upon his favorite white coat. Instead, he let it drift around the stool, stretching halfway down the wooden legs.

Here, he took his notes.

He recorded all the stimulates in his notebook; the bass, the neon lights, the smells, and most especially the interactions between the men. He recorded the way he perceived them, the way he seemed to be perceived, and even placed a few sentences here and there on their manner of dress and speech. With the white coat hanging from his slim frame and draping around the stool, mixed with the pen tapping against his notebook, Kevin looked to be playing the role of the eccentric psychiatrist or doctor.

Of course, he found that idea alone laughable.

In all his surveys, and between the lines of his recordings, Kevin's eye seemed to be constantly swiveling back to a certain male. He wasn't sure where the interest lay, but he didn't question it, as his reddened irises brought in every detail of the man. Kevin started first at the wavy locks, which displayed a color somewhere between dark brown and black, and followed their limp curves until they stopped at the base of his neck. His nose was pretty, sloping very finely at the end of the bridge to create an umbrella over his dry lips, which he seemed to have a tendency to chew upon. From then downward, everything was wrapped within a black trench coat, but for his slightly muddied boots that tapped against the bar.

It was those amber eyes, glazed and staring far off at something Kevin couldn't possibly hope to see, that truly drew the white-haired male in.

No doubt about it;

Kevin had found his protagonist.

A/N: Please R&R! It would mean a lot to my poor, review-whoring soul *puppy eyes*.