A BRIEF PREFACE: If you think genitalia are icky, don't read this. There's no sex, but this story is not shy to go into uncharted territory. This story uses Canadian English, so yes, colour does have a 'u'. Basically if you expect anything like 'class' or 'taste' from this story, you are in the wrong place. Seriously. I wrote most of this shortly after my surgery. Imagine what your fanfiction would be like if you had written it under the influence of morphine and Tylenol-3 and you will understand why I am saying that reading the word 'boner' is going to be the least of your concerns. WHATEVER LET'S GET ON WITH THE FANFIC

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Winter 1

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It was the first day of Winter. Gill tightened the scarf around his neck before plunging out into the snowy abyss that was Waffle Street. He didn't mind Winter at all; in fact, he was quite partial to it. He merely had to brace himself for the odd stares from the townsfolk that he would be getting for the rest of the season. Fall had been unnaturally warm, so it was only today that he had changed into the garb he typically wore for this half of the year.

He knew WHY he got strange looks. It was because the citizens of the island thought that he had inherited his father's fashion sense. "White tuxedos are a bit outdated, Gill," Elli had once explained to him, trying to be gentle. He turned up his nose at her suggestion that he was out of date. Gill was stylish, that was what he was, and it wasn't HIS fault that the townspeople had unsophisticated taste.

He trudged to the Town Hall in his usual graceful manner. He liked to think that he had a noble walk, like the lords of old that he had descended from. When he was a little boy, Hamilia, his grandmother, who had still been alive at the time, had loved to take him on her knee and tell him about the good old days of Waffle Island. Gill's favourite stories had been about his family. They had been on the island for so long that there was a veritable trove of their victories and adventures as well as the hard times they had been though (like Hamill, who had spent most of the family fortune on treacle tarts and the import of brown bears). Every once in a while, he considered writing down all the tales she and his father had told him just so that nothing would happen to them. He still might; as he remembered them, he summarized them in his diary so that he wouldn't forget them.

Upon reaching the door to the building he worked in, Gill pulled the key from his pocket and let himself in. As he approached his desk, he grabbed the mail off the floor and flipped through it, reading aloud to himself as he did so.

"Bills, bills, proposal for a bylaw, the government wondering what country we're a part of, bills, a fireworks advertisement, bills, an application for residence… Wait, what?"

Gill looked down at the last envelope in shock. Even though Waffle Town gotten considerably livelier since the two ranchers had come, it still surprised him every time someone wanted to come live here. But it was addressed to the Department of Citizenship, so there could be no doubt as to what it contained. He sat down behind the reception desk and carefully ripped it open.

Sure enough, contained within was a neatly filled out form requesting permission to come live on the island. The platinum-haired young man unfolded it and began to scrutinize it thoroughly. Not just any old hobo could come live on his island. They had to properly impress him first.

Well, actually, since his job was merely to file away the applicant's information for future use, any old hobo COULD come live on his island. But he could at least prepare to look down his nose at someone for a long period of time.

It seemed that the applicant's name was Julius, and he was two years younger than Gill. He did have some form of education by means of going to fashion school, and the reason he wanted to come to Waffle Island was to become an apprentice. Gill frowned. This 'Julius' seemed eccentric, to say the least, and probably not the kind of person he would approve of living on his island. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. At least he had until the newcomer arrived, and that wouldn't be until…

Damn. Winter 1.

Elli entered the Town Hall in time to hear Gill muttering to himself.

"What's that, Gill?" she asked him as she hung up her cloak.

"We have a new resident," he told her.

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.

'He's a hobo,' Gill nearly snarled, but decided against it on the off-chance that the newcomer had neglected to mention a vast bank account of some sort.

At noon, Elli headed out for lunch. Gill stayed behind as usual. Taking lunches off was for the plebeians. A dedicated man chose duty over doughnuts. Even tomato doughnuts.

It was while he was thinking this that the bell above the door tinkled and someone entered the Town Hall. "Took you long enough," he grumbled, assuming it was Elli. Gill was therefore shocked when his statement was met with not an apology, but a low-pitched giggle, and he whipped his head up from his work to see who it was.

Who he saw before him was so unlike anyone that he had ever seen before anywhere ever that he had to take a second of staring just to compose himself. It was a boy, though he couldn't tell how he knew, since the teen was so slim and androgynous that it was impossible to determine on visual basis alone. His hair, which was long and descended down his back, was purple with pink, yellow and green streaks in it. His eyes, which were large, garnet-red and framed by voluminous eyelashes, were the most noticeable thing about his face, though his carmine lips gave them quite a run for their money, as did the diamond-shaped earrings poking out of his coif. His clothes were, if possible, even more outlandish than the rest of him. A foppish coat with copious white ruffles poking out of its sleeves and collar covered a black shirt and nearly obstructed a red choker and gold necklace from view. Out of all the things that he could have chosen to wear over pants, he chose a peacock-feather patterned skirt and 'matching' gold boots. Gill couldn't tear his eyes away. His brain, however, still trying to comprehend what it saw before it, managed to feebly muster enough strength to utter a sentence.

"Are… Are you Julius?"

The boy's mouth immediately split into a delighted smile. "So you did get my letter! I just wanted to drop by and introduce myself," he explained, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of Gill's desk. "My name is Julius, as you already know. I'm Mira's nephew, which you can probably tell because we have the same hair colour. I've come here to take an apprenticeship in jewelling in order to finish my schooling," he said.

Gill, at the mention of education, managed to tear his eyes away from Julius' appearance. "It is important for one to pursue higher learning," he admitted, more to himself than to the other male.

Julius' eyes sparkled, and he clapped his hands together. "So you agree!" he exclaimed. But even as he spoke, his eyes wandered to the clock on the wall. "Oh! I would love to stay and talk longer, but I have to get back to the blacksmith's! I'll see you around, er, I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"It's Gill. And you'll need to come in to fill out a form for the town facebook," the bewildered young man said.

The violet-haired youth smiled and nodded. "I'll be back," he promised.

And then a strange thing happened. Julius' ruby eyes slid over to Gill's blue ones, and for one moment, he felt as though Julius was searching his soul for something, probing deep into him, as deep as he could go. Then the second ended, the foppish boy blinked, and the world seemed to go back to normal. He lifted his left hand in a two-fingered wave, smiled, and turned away, heading for the door. His hand was just clasping the handle when he paused and looked back at Gill.

"Oh, by the way, I love your tuxedo. It suits you," he declared before slipping out.

Gill was stunned. Gill was amazed.

Gill was flattered.

"Who was that?" Elli inquired, stepping in a minute later.

The mayor's son, preoccupied by thought, jumped at the sound of her voice. "Hm? He's the new resident," he answered. She gave him a look which translated into Something Is Wrong And I Want To Know What It Is, but he ignored it. If she didn't want him to be startled when she talked to him, then she should stop sneaking up on him. Through the front door his desk faced. Yes, it was her fault.

But the truth of the matter was that Gill WAS preoccupied. That glance… It resonated in him still, at the same time chilling him to the bones and piquing his curiosity. He sighed, checked to see if Elli was looking (she wasn't, she was reading another of her infernal letters from some man from the town she used to live in), and pulled his diary out from a desk drawer. Taking up his pen, he began to write.

"Today I met a new person. His name was Julius. He is quite effeminate and rather bubbly. When he came to introduce himself to me, I initially was flabbergasted by his strange dress, but after a minute of talking, he turned out to be not quite as proletariat as the rest of the islanders. At the very least, he has some culture, and in fact complimented me on my choice of clothing.

What left an impression on me, however, was not so much his relative merits (though those did shock me) as the way the look he gave me before he left made me feel. It was piercing, to say the least. It was as though time had stopped. I have often felt judged in my life, but never in quite the same way as now. Even more confusing was the other thing it made me feel. I have never met anyone with eyes quite as deep and large and red.

I know that he saw something in me, though as to what it is I am uncertain, because he gave me a smile before he left. There is more to him than is immediately apparent. I am not sure yet what I think of him. He has unnerved and interested me at the same time."

Gill paused. He had more that he wanted to say, but he was undecided as to whether or not he should write it down. He was almost afraid to put it on paper. Finally, after sneaking another glance at Elli to make sure that she was preoccupied ('Dear Jeff, My internship is going very well,' she was scrawling – busy with her boyfriend still), he slouched over and continued on.

'Against my better reasoning, I look forward to seeing him again soon.'

***

At precisely seven-thirty, Gill left the Town Hall and began to trudge home. His mind hurt. He had been sorting the shelves of the library for the last three hours, a task that was tiring at best and macabre at worst. He was beginning to suspect that someone came in every month to shuffle everything around just to annoy him. It was probably… Toby. Yes, Toby. That lazy lout.

He was still lost in thought when he felt a very hard thump on the front of his skull, and he realized that he had bumped into someone. It was a girl, that one with the red hair. She was looking at him with pure annoyance, and, of course, Gill rose to the occasion.

"Out of my way, streetwalker," he snarled.

And just like that, she went from annoyed to very, very angry. He only had a second to register the malevolent look on her face before her palm connected with his cheek.

"You walked into me, you stuck-up ass pirate!" she shouted back.

"What did you just call me?!?" he growled.

"You heard me, jackass! You wear a sweater-vest in midsummer, go on, tell me I'm wrong!" she challenged.

"Oh yeah? It's better than your bra and pajama pants get-up!" Gill retaliated.

"I'm a belly dancer, this is a uniform, though I'd like to see you try to convince me that white suit pants are a requirement for anyone besides the Village People!" she yelled.

That did it. Gill swung his right fist and it connected with the girl's face. As though reading his mind, she punched him in the gut at the same time, and from that point, it was impossible to tell who was hitting who, because they began to fight with the furiousness that only irritable, self-righteous people have.

When it was done, Gill and the female sat back, panting and looking daggers at each other. Then the rage went out of both of them and the mayor's son extended his hand. "I'm Gill," he said.

She took it and shook. "My name is Selena. You're all right for a rich punk," she replied with a grin. And at that moment, Gill decided that she wasn't half bad after all.

When he finally walked into his house, his father jumped up from the couch and ran up to him. "Gill! Where have you been? I've been worried sick about – Oh my goodness! What happened to you???" Hamilton exclaimed at the sight of his bruised progeny.

"I walked into a lamp post," he lied.

"A lamp post that left a claw mark on your left ear?" the mayor questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

"It had a drug problem."

Hamilton sighed, seeing that his son wasn't prepared to tell him the truth. "You know where the disinfectant is," he said, shaking his head. Teenagers. Well, Gill was twenty now, but still. Teenagers.

Gill trudged upstairs and almost collapsed on his bed to be dramatic, but he remembered his father's advice at the last second and went into the bathroom instead, where he stripped off his clothes and surveyed the damage in the mirror. He did indeed have a cut on his ear, as well as various bruises on his body (to his horror, the place where Selena had kicked him in the groin had turned a violent purple), extremely mussed hair, and a bright red slap mark on his cheek. Thankfully, his bleeding lip wasn't too obvious, and she hadn't really gone for the face so much as his internal organs. He could probably hide most of the damage underneath his clothes. But first, he was in dire need of a shower.

Once he was done washing himself off, he knocked to make sure that his dad wasn't out in the hall, wrapped a towel around his waist, gathered up his dirty clothes and sprinted to his bedroom. Immediately, a safe feeling descended on him. This had always been his bedroom, even when he was a baby. This was a place that seemed to exist outside of the confines of time. If anything bothered him, he could come here. The soft orange light that his desk lamp cast over the room calmed him down enough to let him think about the day with more clarity, which, after he changed into his ivory-coloured pajamas and brought the towel back to the bathroom, he did.

Inevitably, his thoughts brought him to the young man he had met that day. Julius. For some reason, Gill couldn't get him off his mind. His smile and his eyes especially seemed to persist at his cognitive faculties. It was probably because he was so different from anyone Gill had ever seen before.

Probably.

And then there was Selena. For some reason, it was difficult to dislike her now. Something about punching someone in the jaw because they called you a jackass made it hard to feel as though there were unsettled feelings. In fact, he felt a strange sort of kinship with her. So this was what it was like to be an average person. It wasn't quite as bad as Gill had thought it would be. It just went to show that sometimes, violence WAS the answer.

After that, the amber glow of the light and the quiet softness of his bed mixed together to slow his thinking, then finally mute it altogether until he began to drift off. Gill thought about hobos and tomatoes, and then he thought about nothing at all.

This was not Selena's day.

First of all, she'd gotten in a fight with the mayor's son, of all people. And though he wasn't especially strong, he was pretty agile. The skinny ones always were. He'd left a pretty good bruise on the bottom of her right cheek, too. It forced her to take the night off of dancing because it was so unsightly and stung so much. Since dancing was how she usually took her mind off her problems, this was a large loss for her, especially with the added strain of her second, more serious issue.

In fact, her second problem was the reason she had been so irritable in the first place. That wasn't to say that she wasn't usually a bit crotchety, because she was. She just didn't usually slap someone after they called her a prostitute. At least not while they were still looking and she wasn't prepared to run, anyway.

Selena sighed and reclined in the bath. This was not a little problem that she could just ignore. But that was fully what she intended to do. Maybe if she pretended that it wasn't there, it would go away, like domestic animals and the smell of urine that clung to really old people.

Or was this more like pregnancy and malignant tumors, and it only festered with time?

Selena smacked her head against her palm. No. This was not the time. This was definitely the time for something else, like getting out of the bathtub because Chase had been waiting to use it for half an hour. So instead, she got out and put on her bathrobe. On her way to her room, she shot Chase the best death glare she could muster, and was delighted to see him flinch. Even when injured, she still had it.

But as she changed into her pajamas and slipped into bed, her thoughts returned to her current problem. Selena frowned. As determined as she was to ignore it, it seemed equally determined to smack her upside the head until she gave in to it.