A/N: once again, theonionistheonewhocries prompted me. "Erik couldn't handle this feelings anymore, if he bottled them up anymore he might explode like a well shaken soda. He needed to tell Charles that he couldn't stand boxers."

It made me LOL. So I wrote it gladly, and it's a college!AU. yay~

I feel one of my eyes twitch, and I clench my spoon harder until my knuckles go white. It's scraping a little on the cheap wooden table, and I force myself to look away.

I really can't stand it any longer. I've been bottling up these feelings for damn near a year now, since I've been his dorm-mate, and I am half-tempted to scream at him. Because I am, quite literally, on the brink of exploding like a well-shaken, unopened can of soda.

"Charles," I grind out between my teeth, and he pauses in front of the refrigerator with the milk jug in his hand, about to pour himself a bowl of cereal like the one I'm currently leaving to get soggy in front of me as I glare at him.

"Yes, Erik?" he asks with a raise brow, and I swear I'm going to burst any minute now.

My eyes dart down, then up, and struggle to keep from drifting downward again. I need to tell him, I need to, or else I will go insane, and we still have another year together before they let us pick different roommates. All freshman and sophomores at this college have to have the same person for two years out of convenience and blah blah blah, and I like Charles and all, but this is just too much.

I say curtly, "I. Really. Hate. Boxers."

He blinks, and a puzzled frown falls over his eyes. "…Come again?"

"Boxers. Underwear like yours. I can't stand them," I clarify with a clipped tone and finally take my eyes off of him and look into my milky bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats as if it would calm me down. I go on without thinking as I hear him start to huff a laugh, "It's not funny. I despise them. They make one's parts dangle everywhere with no support, and they come in odd colors and patterns, and they leave nothing to the imagination, and things slip out of them often or they ride up and you just keep prancing around in them with your big t-shirts every morning and I can't fucking take it anymore!"

My voice rose near the end, and when I look back at him, Charles is grinning deviously. "So that's what you've been keeping in all this time, my friend? For months you've been boiling over because of my underwear?"

I blush when it says it like that. He chuckles and comes to sit int he chair to my right. He sets the milk aside and looks at me oddly.

"So tell me, Erik: would you like me to start wearing briefs like you? Or pants instead? Because I get too hot to sleep if I wear pants, but briefs I can do. Would that satisfy you?"

"Yes, very much," I say, relief seeping in. I smile subtly, and scoop up a bite of cereal to shove into my mouth. Around a few chews, I tell him, "And while you're at it, you might want to close your door at night."

"Oh?" he smiles, "And why is that?"

"…You moan in your sleep, and it's rather distracting," I add, shrugging, but my blush is flaring back up.

Charles laughs and nods. "Duly noted." And he gets up, going about getting his breakfast, but he can't seem to help but add, "So then, Erik, are you bringing up all of this because you don't like being sexually attracted to me, or…?"

I nearly choke on my recent bite of cereal and turn to launch my spoon at him. He dodges it and it clatters to the floor, and he's laughing wildly.

"Just eat your damn food and get ready for class!" I yell at him, getting up from the table. I don't bother to clean up my bowl or pick up my spoon; Charles will do it, most likely, and I'm already running late in my schedule because of him.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" he calls after me as I storm into my room directly across the narrow hallway from his, and when the door slams, I can still hear his muffled laughter and it's all I can do not to smile, too.