College campuses aren't anybody's haven or home, in fact they're more like hospices. Nobody likes those and those are more somber, desperate, and downright horrifying. Nobody hears the word "hospice" and gets happy, same with college. I mean, they're similar enough.

It wasn't so much the environment – the campuses were pretty and vibrant and green – it was the people and attitudes. You could glance around at any of the students' faces and just know that they wanted to be home alone drinking or out with friends drinking; in some way, alcohol was going to be involved to get through the miserable college years. One semester down and most of it was hazy by the second time around.

I laughed to myself thinking about how Alfred slipped a beer into my hand within a minute of being at his frat party the night before classes started. Within another ten he was already leaning against a counter and worming his tongue down some girl's throat. It didn't take long for him to be off his ass drunk either and whining about responsibilities for the next day while he was on top of said girl. I don't think any of them ever saw each other again after that party, but Alfred saw plenty of other girls at plenty of other parties for the rest of the first semester.

Alfred added to the beautiful scenery today of morbid college of hungover college kids with his scowl. He was tripping over himself while he rubbed away at his eyes and sleepily sipped his coffee. It was obvious to everyone around him that he was done with the semester and we'd only just started classes.

"Hey, Al, you sure you don't need help getting to Psychology?" I snickered. His sneakers' laces were undone, his faded NYC sweater was baggy, and his dark circles were the worst since senior year cram season for applications.

He shot me a nasty glare and sped up, barely throwing up a hand as a goodbye.

Wait 'til Lars sees how stressed Al is, bet they'll have fun in class today, I thought, laughing a little at the image of Lars actually taking Al's crush on him so seriously. The day Lars gives him the time of day might just be the peak of his life.

At the end of the day, it was Al's problem and I knew he'd tell me if he hooked up with the Psych professor – if it ever did happen that is – so the only thing left for me to do was go on with my day.

The walk to the South campus for culinary studies was always a hassle; France has the least forgiving pathways. The cobblestone was hell for anyone in heels and even worse in general after rain, and today was the latter. I had my second set of classes today and Monday's rain probably set the tone for a horrible semester, if the hangovers didn't do it.

This semester consists of more basics, more pastries, and nothing foreign. Nothing at all. You'd have thought I was ready to completely immerse myself in French culture as the classical training capital of the world, but no. Academy of the World was, in layman's terms, the school for the bougie and bratty. Mostly everyone who attended had a rich family member who could afford to pay for an out of country college education, or they were like me and had a – very – generous scholarship. It took three SAT attempts, four years of straight A's, and three "glowing recommendations" to get me here. Alfred, though, was complicated and messy. It was more like the headmaster interviewed us and gave Al the benefit of the doubt.

Al, while being a moron for the simplest things, was meant for international affairs, even if he couldn't do the bare minimum of math. We came to an agreement that if I helped Al stay on top of his studies, then Al could attend the academy for a Political Science degree; being social and charming has its benefits.

The biggest perk of being here was the architecture; this wasn't New York or Ontario where there were skyscrapers or colonial styles. France was a mix of new and old. Even if I didn't study architecture like our parents wanted me to, I could still appreciate the history behind the buildings of France. Even the small effects the boulevards had were breathtaking. The headmaster, this old Italian, was partial to art history and built the academy to accommodate people of all nationalities. The campuses were erected with a variety of styles and periods of architecture, and the students themselves were beyond eclectic and versatile.

The culinary arts department building wasn't my favorite by any means. It was Bauhaus and dreary, totally contrasting with the fiery environment of the inside. There was never a quiet moment in classes, the French curses were always loud and abrasive, and the cooking was always fun.

By the time I reached the building, my own coffee was gone and the once hot cup was as cold as today's weather. I couldn't get out of the freezing weather any sooner. Getting to classes meant I got to see the few people I actually talked to rather than got drunk with on the weekends.

There was Elizabeta who was Hungarian and had an obsession with sautéing food; she could've married her pan if she could. She was nice enough, really, and a great listener. When things got rocky transitioning to life in Europe she helped get around the weird French customs. In return, I helped her learn Canadian French, which, surprisingly, was a big hit with her and the rest of our group. Feliciano, the Italian twin, was bright and sunny and he had some pasta fetish happening too, but I'm not judging; he can do what he wants. By association, Antonio Fernandez was technically a friend too, more like an acquaintance. He was close to Feli's brother, and rumor has it that they finally hooked up over break. Antonio's a thousand times more sociable than us, so he floats around and chats up every cute girl in class. His overly nice composure radiates onto everyone; just being in the same classes as him meant it would be enjoyable.

Today was no different. We were learning how to properly make merengue and the classroom wasn't quiet for a single second. It was comforting really, it was our introduction to the class and having someone as open as Antonio livened up the atmosphere and eased any nerves.

"Mathew! Wait up!"

I turned around to find Elizabeta at the end of the hallway talking with this super shy girl from class – I think her name was Erika or something. There was no harm in waiting up for her, it was almost noon anyway, might as well head out to find Al with her and eat lunch.

"What's up, Eli?" I asked her once she was close enough and waving to the retreating figure; she probably had her next class here too.

"Where do you have to go now? Because I was going to meet up with some friends, and you can come if you want. I don't know if you have any plans already with your brother, but you you're welcome to join us. It's in Élan Dining Hall, you can find us there if you decide to go."

Elizabeta looked pretty keen on me going. Her hand was clutching her satchel's strap tightly and her foot kept tapping the marble floor. No harm in finding out why, I guess.

"Ah, sure." I shrugged. "If anything I'll text you in case."

Her eyes lit up. "Perfect. I'll see you in a bit then, Mattie."

She went out ahead of me and wrapped her scarf tighter, scurrying away for whatever scheme she had going on now. For as nice as she could be to me, she was twice as brutal to whoever she didn't like, and that was a pretty long list.

I pulled out my phone and started texting Al while I headed out, no since in staying put and waiting for him.

M: gonna go out to Élan Dining Hall to meet Eli and some of her friends, come with if you want

A: hot girls or hot guys?

M: how should I know?

A: k true

A: I'll meet u there bro

I closed the Messaging app and sped up my pace; French winters were a pain in my ass.

The architecture started shifting from Bauhaus to more Baroque architecture, the extravagance of the styles matching the headmaster's flamboyant personality. It was beautiful, though. Orientation was me getting lost along the cobblestones and taking photos of every minute detail of every single building I could find. The best parts were the views. Take somebody up there and they would marry you in a second.

Bing.

A: I'm here

A: didn't know u were the type to agree to hang out w Gil n Francis, Antonio, Feli, and Lovi I kinda figured but the other two? what's that ab?

M: wait what

M: Eli didn't tell me who was going

M: oh shit

M: eli crap bro I didn't agree to hanging out with Gilbert and Francis, those are seniors, I can't deal with that

E: relax

E: you'll see

I was maybe three minutes away from the dining hall and ready to shit myself. One semester in, hell, one day in and you were bound to know who Gilbert Beilschmidt and Francis Bonnefoy were. The boy wonders. Two-thirds of the best looking group on campus, you'd have to be blind to not see that. Sure, I was friends with some of their friends by chance. Sure, I had classes with those friends and have to see them pretty much all week. None of that meant I had clearance to hang out with them. None of that meant that I could just waltz in after Alfred and plop myself into a conversation. I can barely be in a normal one.

I was right in front of the hall before I realized it, and I think I might have actually shat myself a little. What would I talk about?

Oh, yeah, I just whip merengue for a life.

People would be so envious of me, definitely. What's the perk? Girls. Yeah… such a perk. I swear, if I get out of this alive, I'm going to kill Elizabeta.

Deep breath. Door handle. Open door. Walk through. Follow the shouts and loud cackling of Gilbert and Alfred.

I knew where to go before I even saw the whole group; Eli caught a glimpse of my hair and waved me over, attracting the rest of the group's attention. "Matt, over here!"

Groaning, I shuffled over against my better judgement. Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert were at the center of the group, the circular booth theirs for the taking. Elizabeta, a kid with dark hair and a mole, the Italian twins, a tall blond, and Alfred sat around them, full attention was being given to the charismatic triad. That is, 'til I showed up. There was confusion and interest in the eyes of those who didn't know me, which I can't blame them for. Those who did know me, well, they made a lot of fucking noise.

I mean that as nicely as possible. The open seat was at the edge next to Elizabeta and in front of Al, who was next to Feliciano, who was next to the blond. From there it was the three – Gilbert was in the very middle – and then Lovino, and the dark haired guy. Eli not so gently dragged me down into the seat and launched into French with the waiter who was standing by, party shocked.

The other cultural shock: this school was so bougie even the dining hall, or this one specifically, used waiters. You'd think college kids could grow and mature without being babied, but no. I didn't mind letting her order for me, though – I vaguely heard something along the lines of crepes and pancakes. I was busy getting a better look at the boy wonder himself. Silver hair, deep red eyes, sharp jawline, porcelain skin, broad shoulders, wispy nose, he was an unconventionally gorgeous German and you'd be a fool to think otherwise; you didn't have to be gay or straight to appreciate beauty.

…Yeah, okay, maybe a little much.

"So, Mattie, how do you like it here?"

Wait, what?

Gilbert leaned back with his arm slung over the back of the booth, his drink millimeters away from his lips and an eyebrow arched. One, amazingly, ached eyebrow. "So?"

I gulped down whatever the waiter placed in front of me. "It's, uh, good, yeah, definitely good." I'm so lame. Kill me now. Please.

It's like you could feel the deadpan of the whole group. Francis and Antonio could barely hold back their laughter at me, Alfred was hardly trying at this rate; his stupid guffaws were easily audible. Everyone else? Horrible first impressions, don't doubt it.

"That it? Nothing about the classes? The people? Hot girls? Nichts?" He pushed further, dropping the arm and leaning forward onto the table.

"No… not really, no, nothing," I stuttered, shoving part of the Nutella crepe into my mouth.

Easier to deal with food than unreasonably attractive college guys. Better that than –

A loud clap disrupted my thought process. "Excuse us, for a second, boys. We'll be right back, "Elizabeta announcing, shoving me out of the booth and gripping my arm. Her fingers were tough as steel as she wouldn't let go of my arm, my other hand still holding onto the crepe. Once we were outside the building again there was a light drizzle happening, so we stayed below the small canopy.

Then, she rounded on me. "Mattie! Are you insane?" she flung out her arms in her dramatic manner. "Here's this beautiful hetero guy here who is definitely in the closet who's perfect for you, and you're here looking like a dead fish?" Her deep brown eyes widened. "What's wrong with you? You've been here one semester and your close group of friends still includes your twin, the same twin who's also your drinking buddy."

"Is this you trying to hint that my college life is pretty pathetic? Because I promise you it isn't," I said, taking another bite of the crepe. "Honestly, like, I've got this under control, Elizabeta. Promise."

"Matt." She sighed. "My point is, Gilbert is there, and he's willing to get to know you, and this could count as the first step to getting him to realize that you're perfect for him. I see it, and I'm the expert in this. Don't you know how many gay fanfics I've written? So please, for me, just… try. That's all I'm asking from you."

It was hard to refuse Eli some days. Despite her short stature, her flaring temper could put anyone to sleep. Permanently.

"Alright, okay, alright," I groaned, instantly regretting the deal with the devil. "I'll give it a shot. But seriously, just let me get to know him." Her smile widened. "On my own terms."

I turned back around with the crepe in my mouth and shoveled the rest in; no point in propriety when I have to be pushed into it. Overseas college or not, there's just some things that have to be done, whether we want to or not.

I might regret this. A lot.