"Excuse m-Oh?...Oh..."

That was the first time I heard his voice.

Let's go back a week.

It was last Friday night, around 7pm, when I heard a knock coming from my dorm room door.

I answered, and before I could even get a single word out-

"Go get ready," he demanded.

I sighed.

"Ya know, most people start off a conversation with a simple, 'hi, how are you'...What do you want?"

Souda Kazuichi, was a high school acquaintance of mine whom I had shared most of my senior classes with. He coincidentally applied to the same college, coincidentally got in, and, would you believe, coincidentally (I hope you are getting my sarcasm here), lived on the same floor, just down the hall from me.

We didn't used to be friends or anything, but I guess seeing a familiar face in a big school is like finding a needle in a hay stack. So if I was ever out in public, minding my own business, and we just happen to make eye contact, he would come over and start acting all 'buddy-buddy' with me. Eventually I gave in, and we began to occasionally hang out.

He was studying to become an engineer, and I, on the other hand, settled for the boring life as a business major. If next semester was going to be equally as lame as this last one had been, I told myself I would look into law, but that was besides the point.

Basically what I am trying to say here is, we have close to nothing in common.

Over the course of the first term, I learned a lot about Souda. He was a good guy, really handy when it came to fixing any kind of machine or electronic, and he liked to go out on the weekends. He dragged me out of my cave every once in a while to go socialize, though I wasn't really into parties or frats, or whatever. One of his less redeeming qualities, despite attempting to build up a tolerance to alcohol, was his inability to hold his liquor. Luckily for him, I wasn't like some of the other assholes on campus who would somehow manage to find a way to leave his passed out, drunk body on a roof or something, and helped him stumble his way back to his dorm.

It didn't matter to him if I was in the mood or not; I always found myself standing like a wallflower in a crowded room with a beer in my hand.

Which was exactly what happened last Friday.

We had often gone to that particular house, so I had loosened up over time. I was starting to recognize people by their names, hold brief conversations, and had a basic knowledge of all the "regular's", so I called them. There were also people I listed in the "sometimes" category, who would show up once a month or every so often.

The host and owner of the apartment was a guy named Kuzuryuu. He was a short guy with an even shorter temper. He seemed responsible and had set some ground rules for everyone to follow, so at least I didn't get the impression I was walking into a place due for a drug bust.

On that particular Friday, I happened to be off from work.

(I'm trying not to live the broke college student life, but working as a part timer at the local movie theater, scrubbing bathrooms and sweeping up popcorn and straw wrappers, barely covered my mostly ramen noodles diet.)

There had been more people than there usually were. All the "regulars" were accounted for, even the "sometimes'". But the dim room was buzzing with unfamiliar faces. One of which had seemed to catch my eye.

I had lost Souda in the crowd ages ago. The last time I saw him, he was chasing after some blonde, leaving me in my usual spot in the kitchen, next to the lone fern decoration whom I had learned to share a mutual unspoken understanding with over the weeks of my visitation.

The lights were turned down, and the music was blaring. I sipped irritably at my third beer and checked my watch. Another hour had gone by and still no sign or word from my pink haired friend. I stood up from the bar stool I was perched on and walked over to the mass of people chatting and dancing in the living room.

I shortly learned that bumping into people was inevitable, and that if you weren't already dancing with someone, you were automatically available for grinding on. I weaved as best I could through the array of bodies, my head on a swivel as I searched for Souda. Finally, popping out on the other side of the cluster, I was able to catch my breath and search for any stains of other people's sweat and beverages on my shirt.

That's when he caught my eye. Or it, rather.

The unkempt head of snow white...hair? sitting atop a tall, slender figure. Another wallflower.

He was standing by himself against the wall about ten feet away, watching the crowd I had just come from.

I couldn't make out what his face looked like behind the frizzy strands of his bangs, but I could see a sharp jawline and obvious Adam's apple. His head was back against the wall, his lanky legs spread about shoulder width apart in front of him. He was wearing a long green coat that wasn't tailored for his body type with his hands in his pockets.

What a creep. It's one thing to not participate at a party, but this guy stuck out like a sore thumb, looking either like an addict? Pervert? Stalker? The possibilities were endless, I couldn't decide.

I had the unfortunate experience of making eye contact when he noticed me staring at him, but neither one of us made an attempt to break it until I felt a hard slap on my back.

"THERE ye'are, I'f been lookin' all over for ya," my friend slurred loudly in my ear over the music.

"I seriously doubt that," I said as I caught him from falling on me further.

I felt slightly embarrassed to be associated with the man currently using me for balance and dared to look up to see if I was still being watched.

There was no one there.

"Whad'ya lookin' at Hinata?"

"It's...nothing...let's get you back to your dorm."

"I didn't see you there."