btw, trigger warning for this chapter and the story in general: homophobic slurs. anyway...

Hercules

I had assumed that this year would be better. I had left the frat because I didn't want to deal with the dumb things everyone said and did, anymore. But, of course, then I had to be roomed with him. Perfect. Great. Now my year was screwed up, again.

I gave up halfway through unpacking and decided to accept my friends' request to go get some drinks. I figured I could handle being around them if I was at least drunk.

The bar was already full, but I went in and ordered a pint of beer, anyway. I sat alone for a few minutes. I suddenly felt like someone was watching me. I started to turn around, but a hand on my back stopped me. I looked up. "Lee," I greeted.

"'Sup, Mulligan," Lee said, sitting next to me. The rest of my friends sat around me, as well. We all called each other by our last names, except Sam, because Seabury was an annoying thing to say. "You paying for us?" Lee asked.

"Nah. King can do it," I said, sipping my drink.

"You got here first," King refused. I grumbled and called for a round for the four of them. They started to talk around me; I barely paid attention until I heard my name.

"Yo, Mulligan," Lee called out, smirking, "how d'you like living out of the frat?"

I shrugged. "It's...fine."

"Who's your roommate?"

"Some kid from a different country, I think. He's..." I sighed deeply. "He's, uh...a nerd, I think."

They all laughed. "I'll bet he's a fag, too," Lee scoffed.

I wished I hadn't seen that stupid flag. "He is."

They laughed again. "God, that sucks. You might as well just transfer. Hey!" Lee punched my shoulder. "Come back to the frat, man. No fags there."

"I'm good. I want to actually graduate, you know."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. Don't come complaining when it gets too gross for you."

I bought another drink.

I left the bar before any of my friends did. I hadn't had much to drink, but, apparently, my brain still decided to be weird on me.

He was back in the dorm when I returned. He was leaning out the window in the front room, smoking a cigarette. He appeared to have changed into pajamas that consisted of a tank top and very short shorts. My eyes drifted down to his long, smooth legs. I licked my lips. Fuck. Maybe I'm drunker than I thought.

"Bonjour."

My eyes darted up, again. He had turned around to face me. He looked at me with tired eyes.

"Um...hi."

"Did you have fun?"

"What?"

"I go to that bar, too." He leaned out the window, again, puffing smoke.

My face flushed a bit. "Oh. Well, uh, yeah. It was fine." I started walking to my room.

"You are going to have to tolerate me if we are to live together."

I stopped. "What?"

He just looked at me and raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes filled with intelligence.

"What?" I asked again.

He turned to the window again. "You do not like me. That is fine. But you must at least talk to me if you want to live here with me."

"I am talking to you."

"Mhm." He blew more smoke. "Did you even bother to remember my name?"

My cheeks burned. "Uh..."

He laughed a bit, shaking his head as if he was laughing at himself instead of me. He flicked his cigarette out the window, closed it, then walked towards me. I stiffened up. "Lafayette," he reminded me. "Lafayette, mon chéri." He patted my cheek and walked past me. His legs moved gracefully as he did so, then they disappeared into his room.

I groaned quietly and rubbed my face. Maybe I would have fared better in the fraternity. It wasn't like I was gay or anything. I just...had times where my mind would...disagree with me. I could fight it off, eventually, but until then, I just felt like garbage for a while. I only felt worse when someone like him was around. Didn't help that he had the legs of a motherfucking Greek god.

For fuck's sake, brain. Shut up. You dumbass.

My drunk, tired brain was making me think stupid things. I went to bed. My thoughts were still swirling. I kept thinking about why he had called me mon chéri with that damn accent of his. The name echoed through my dreams over and over, along with the repeated image of his legs...among other things. I woke up with a start after just two hours of sleep, frustrated in several different ways.

It took me a while to calm down. When I finally did-to an extent-I buried my face in my pillow. It had only been a day and I was already stressed out.

I could already tell it was going to take me an extra long time to convince my mind to agree with me again.

Fucking legs.