Disclaimer: I own nothing She's the Man related. Just the stuff between the proper nouns.

Unexpected

Duke gulped and quickly tried to change the subject. "So what's the song like?"

"Well you kind of hit the nail on the head," Sebastian admitted. "It's about a guy who feels unfulfilled, and really admires this absolutely beautiful, flawless girl – the 'trophy,' I guess you could call her, although that's not at all fair to her. When they get together, though, he finds he still feels unfulfilled."

Duke sat up, surprised. "Really? You, uh, you feel like that? Because I –" He caught himself in time to not incriminate Viola. "I've felt kind of like that before," he finished.

Sebastian stopped strumming and shifted himself to face Duke. "Really? Was it with Olivia, because I don't know what it is about her, but I just can't help it. And I feel guilty, because she just seems so, so amazing. But I feel like she won't open up to me. I don't really know her."

Duke thought about it, and realized that, as he had just been thinking, he had been disappointed by Olivia. Not because she hadn't opened up to him, but because she had used him shamelessly. "She wasn't the one for me," he said simply.

"You're lucky that you connect so well with Viola," Sebastian sighed.

"Yeah," Duke replied half-heartedly. Then half-jokingly, "It's like dating one of the guys from the team."

"Really," Sebastian said mockingly, "because I didn't think those guys would be your type."

Quickly, Duke stood up and walked over toward his desk, rummaging in drawers and straightening papers as if preparing for school the next day. But in actuality he didn't want Sebastian to see the flush in his face in reaction to his joke. And he didn't want to ask himself, either, why he had reacted that way. Why his chest hurt a little bit and why he started breathing faster.

"Yeah," Duke tossed over his shoulder as non-chalantly as he could muster. "Those jock types are such losers. Big man on campus. But it's all an act. They're really snivelling, self-conscious douchebags." He grimaced as he realized he was talking about himself.

"You're not a loser, man," Sebastian replied, more seriously, apparently anxious to not let his roommate disparage himself, even in jest. "You're just a guy trying to make it. We all are." Duke pulled back from putting textbooks into his shoulderbag and turned back to Sebastian, who continued thoughtfully. "It's like the world requires of us masks," he said evenly. "We barely know who we are, but are forced to turn our backs. On all we thought we wanted, and all that we admired. The world requires of us masks, and all us men are tired."

With a gulp Duke took a step forward. That…poem…thing…that had just come from Sebastian's lips, his eyes turned skyward as though entranced, was exactly the kind of crap that the guys on Duke's team – his friends – would make hardcore fun of: pansy existential bullshit, even worse considering it was spontaneously conceived, with no holding back, no self-censorship in case he wouldn't be accepted. Yet Duke was drawn to Sebastian by those words which seemed to create a spiralling orbit around him. They were incredibly brave words considering few people would actually listen to them without judging. And they were words Duke wanted to say himself but didn't have the language or expressiveness for: How if he didn't achieve certain standards on the soccer field he hated himself and felt like a dismal failure. How he became someone different when he was around other people. How he felt like himself but felt like someone else.

When Viola had, dressed as Sebastian, tried to teach Duke how to "talk to girls," she put words in his mouth that didn't seem to fit there, so they spewed out uncontrollably, trying to escape the misshapen vault. "Do you like…cheese?" It was laughable, really. No really, it did make him laugh. But it was really just a joke. When he had asked that of Olivia at Cesario's, she had given him the dirtiest look ever. Maybe it worked on a girl like Viola, who had a good sense of humour and a healthy appetite, but if it worked wasn't even the point. The point was, those weren't the words Duke wanted to say. And here was Sebastian saying words that actually meant something to him…

"What was that?" Duke asked in amazement, then to try to tone down what to him sounded like an overly gushing tone, added quickly, "I mean, how'd you do that, man? You like, just wrote a song without even thinking about it."

"Actually, I've thought about it a lot," Sebastian replied somewhat shyly, looking away at the floor.

"Me too," Duke agreed quietly, lowering himself back down on his bed. "I just…don't know how…to say a thing. It always just…comes out wrong."

Sebastian's face lit up. "That's the beauty of music! It can't come out 'wrong.' It just comes out…different…than what you expect. And sometimes the unexpected can make the truest song."

Now Duke really didn't know what to say. He let Sebastian's words hang there and headed to the bathroom to wash up before bed.

Speaking of the unexpected, he thought, the entire conversation with Sebastian was completely unexpected. He hadn't expected to have a heart-to-heart about the difficulties of masculine identity with his roommate, his girlfriend's brother, someone he barely knew, yet someone who seemed to understand him…perfectly. Someone who didn't have…expectations of him, like Viola did. To be a certain kind of person. Even when he didn't feel like it.

Later when Duke climbed into bed for good that night, he couldn't help but wonder what Viola would be like if she was more like her brother. He almost stopped himself from thinking the thought when it was only the initial momentary pang in his mind. But he relished the unexpected fulfillment he felt at hearing those words, at having someone acknowledge the masks he wore as something other than his true, expected face. And he felt comfort in realizing that sometimes the unexpected can make the truest song.