A/N: Hey everyone! As I said - there was a challenge on the BMT forum to write an Akkarin/Lorlen fic and this is my response to that. Except of course, being me, I went a little bit overboard...the following fic - roughly 4 or 5 chapters in total I reckon - was in fact meant to be the first chapter of said response...hah - yet more proof why I can't write one-shots *dejected sigh* ah well.

Yeah, as you can tell this is outrageously different from DLBIA and Papercut. The follow up fic to this one, the LOOOOONG one, will without a doubt be the longest BMT I have ever written and most likely the last one I write of that kind of proportion - I wasn't even planning to write this, but hey - I like a challenge and this plot bunny refused to let me drop it.

So OK: rated for yaoi, possibly language? I dunno, cant' remember. Other than that it's pretty harmless.

Big thanks to Shalane and Sheepy Pie for helping to edit this =D - you guys are seriously awesome ^^!

I don't own anything in this - other than the plotline (PLEEEEEEEEASE. NO-ONE STEAL THIS IDEA. DISOBEY AND I WILL COME AFTER YOU WITH A PITCHFORK!) and a couple of minor OCs...

Enjoy! PLEASE REVIEW - I WOULD VERY MUCHLY LIKE SOME FEEDBACK. As would my plot bunny who I have decided to call Nero o_O...

-M.M-

Lorlen hated parties. He didn't really like large social gatherings in general, but parties were by far the worst. Perhaps that did make him a 'right boring old sod' as Akkarin had so lovingly referred to him as when he'd grumbled about this earlier, but Lorlen was almost beyond the point of caring now. This…this was just ridiculous.

The nineteen year old growled savagely as he ripped at the black velvet tie around his neck, arms flailing as he wrenched it over his head and threw the offending item on the floor unceremoniously, giving it a last vicious kick that didn't even connect very well with the smooth material. Lorlen plopped down onto the edge of his bed and huffed. Yes, he was throwing a strop (yet another Akkarin-like trait he'd picked up without meaning to…) but it wasn't like anyone was here to see it, and that made him feel a little better.

He flopped back onto his bed with a sigh and a small groan, his hand draped across his forehead as though shielding his eyes from the harsh light hanging from the ceiling. After a second of blankness, it suddenly registered to him, with a finality that made him shudder, that this night would mark the end of an era in his life in several different ways.

This would be his last night here in the Novice's Quarters, in this room – his home for the past five years - and it was his home to some extent; he had never felt as though he truly belonged in the Rassil family manor – admittedly, he wasn't strictly a member of that family; when his parents had married, his mother had joined his father's house of Sarron.

Although having said that, he wasn't really a member of the House of Sarron either; his father had died when Lorlen was very young and the Healer only had very fleeting images of him, fragile memories of a man, face accentuated by the glow of the undulating flames in the fireplace rocking him in his arms whilst he slept, talking to him in quiet, low tones and sending him warm heavy waves through their mental link that made always made him sleepy…

He'd been a magician himself, an Alchemist who had met his mother, the devoted scholar, amongst the corridors of the Great Library in Elyne.

However, fortunately for Lorlen, the House Sarron had a near flawless reputation and was highly respected by the other Houses, which had helped a great deal when he had joined the Guild initially. As foolhardy as it was, he had hoped that politics wouldn't have influenced popularity inside the Guild whilst he was a novice – Lorlen had come to the Guild to escape from what lay outside; he'd hoped that he wouldn't be constantly reminded of it whilst he was there, if anything his two worlds were meant to be separate.

And that in turn led to another thing tonight would mark the end of.

When Akkarin had told him of his plans to leave the Guild after graduation, unlike everyone else Lorlen hadn't been surprised at all. His friend had mentioned it occasionally while they were novices; and the fact that he'd even remembered, let alone could be bothered to see it through, was a tribute to how much he must have wanted this.

Not that Lorlen was in any way suggesting the other was callous or selective in what he chose to remember, though he was all too aware of how callous Akkarin could be to people sometimes, but Akkarin was if nothing else, an idealist.

He had an imagination like no-one Lorlen had ever met before or since, and as such Akkarin's mind rarely ever stayed in one place for too long. His ideas, although brilliant, were rarely ever seen through to the end either because they were left forgotten underneath all the new better ideas he had thought of since…

Or he simply grew bored and moved on to something else. That applied to people as well.

Those that did not love or admire Akkarin, either thought him self-centered and arrogant because they did not know him well enough to see below the surface, or hated him because they despised the realization that although he had most likely rejected their company at some point – they still loved him deep down anyway. Akkarin was what the bitter loved to hate, the one that always got away. And now it was Lorlen's turn, Akkarin was leaving him behind too. Perhaps, forever…

A wave of cold pinpricks flushed over his skin and he pulled his legs onto the bed with him, now half curled up in a fetal position. He bit the corner of his bottom hard at the lump in his throat, a sign of all the unshed tears he was keeping at bay. Lorlen did not want to cry; it would do nothing to change the situation and would only leave him feeling even more helpless and lonely. It reminded him that this was just a precursor of what life would be like for him without Akkarin there – cold, dark and miserable.

No, he told himself, I will get through this. What is there to be sad about?

This afternoon he had graduated as a Healer of the Magician's Guild of Kyralia – a culmination of five turbulent years, which led to the birth of Lord Lorlen. Lord Lorlen let out a rather undignified snort - he'd never grow fond of that title, it just didn't suit his name at all. Lord Akkarin, however…Stop it.

Of course it sounded OK with Akkarin's name, he was better than him at everything…

But now was not the time to be thinking of such things. This was the first night of the rest of his life and the last with his friends before they all separated. It was Akkarin's night in particular –and Lorlen vowed he would go to the party and enjoy himself. He had nothing left to lose now; for one night the consequences could all take a running jump. Smiling to himself, he raised himself from the bed and went back to the full length mirror to make himself presentable.

Smart, but yet not too formal, his friend had said when Lorlen had asked him what to wear.

"Not too much black – we're not going to a funeral – and NO ROBES. We've just finished graduating, I'm sure we should be allowed one evening of transition before we all revert back to sniveling stone-faced magicians in the morning."

The newly graduated magician inspected himself in the mirror. Well, he 'deemed it acceptable' as Akkarin would say when he criticized something he actually approved of. He wore a simple yet quietly sophisticated outfit – his long dark brown hair was down and partially resting on his shoulders, he wore a plain long-sleeved white dress shirt with a silver waistcoat that apparently made his eyes look brighter, with small shiny black buttons down the middle. He wore a pair of rather tight fitting black trousers that Akkarin had eagerly insisted Lorlen buy…

The Healer flushed slightly at the memory of his friend casting appreciative, borderline steamy glances at his legs when Lorlen had tried them on the shop.

Playful of course.

Well –

At least he thought so…

Casting those thoughts aside, he took a deep breath and checked once more that he looked respectable. Lorlen wasn't wearing anything too fussy or over the top, not that it mattered, Akkarin had enough 'extrovert-ness' for the both of them; and there was any danger whatsoever of him showing his friend up in the looks department. Mildly sad, but true.

Damn…I think about Akkarin an awful lot don't I?

The blush that had been fading from Lorlen's cheeks came back in full force. Yes, it was true. But there wasn't all that much he could do about it. His friend was found to be fascinating and intriguing by just about everyone he came across, and even he was no exception – it was just part of the Akkarin 'package' as it were….right?

But yet for most other people, the shine wore off slightly they became used to Akkarin's antics – that hadn't happened as far as Lorlen was concerned. In fact, for a while now, it only seemed to be growing stronger.

And that wasn't right.

Lorlen sighed as he crossed his arms behind his head and drifted away from the mirror.

What he felt for Akkarin was complicated. The friendly, almost brotherly love was still there, loud and clear, but there were an increasing number of times recently when it had seemed more than that. His heart would cough and splutter in his chest whenever Akkarin smiled or grinned at him in that way he only seemed to reserve for Lorlen and he found himself growing increasingly moody whenever his friend would tell him about a date he had planned for some girl he was taking to the Races…

The Healer had a feeling he was missing something vitally important and obvious, but didn't know what it is and – in truth – didn't want to know either.

Whatever he felt now didn't matter - Akkarin would be leaving in a carriage for Calia tomorrow morning and from there he would take another carriage to the coast where he would board a boat for Elyne. Pondering over emotional turmoil was pointless if the person involved would be absent for the next few weeks, months, years.

Nothing would ever become of these fleeting emotions for Akkarin, Lorlen had accepted and dealt with that a long time ago. And there was no way he'd have jeopardized their friendship for something that may not even exist.

A loud succession of wraps on his door startled the Healer out of his musings and he shouted for the visitors to enter.

A fellow ex-novice, Terell, opened the door and greeted Lorlen with a warm smile. The newcomer looked over the Healer and grinned.

"Who's the lucky lady then, Lorlen? Don't think Akkarin would be too pleased to have his friend stealing all the attention!"

Lorlen huffed quietly.

"Good evening to you too, Terell, Yikmo." He said as he nodded at the Vindo graduate who leant the door.

Yikmo greeted Lorlen as well.

"It's late, the party was due to start 25 minutes ago." The new Warrior stated to his companions. Lorlen frowned, but Terell simply laughed.

"That's OK then. I doubt Akkarin will turn up anyway for at least another 20 minutes. You know how he likes to make a big introduction."

Yikmo sniggered. "Yes, but I don't think the introduction will be a warm one if he waits so long everyone gets grumpy and leaves."

Terell shrugged. "Fair point. You coming, Lorlen?"

Lorlen paused and turned back to the mirror once more. Yes Lorlen, who is the lucky lady then?

He pushed the voice in his head to the back of his mind and inspected himself once more.

Feeling especially daring, he undid another two buttons on his shirt and separated the collars, exposing more chest and showing off the glittering blue gemstone that hung from the end of his necklace. Finally satisfied, he grinned at his reflection, suddenly feeling rather excited and jittery at the thought of the party.

"Yeah, let's go."

A/N: I reckon updates for this should be pretty regular...hoping to have this finished by the end of the month - but don't quote me on that - look at DLBIA =S

R&R if you please.