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Chapter 2: I'm Sorry?

It wasn't like he could avoid him forever.

Well, technically he could, but that would involve dropping out of college, never finding a job, living in a cardboard box, sucking dick for heroi-and now he was spiraling. Matthew took a deep breath before stepping into the lecture hall five minutes before class started as usual. He needed that time to make sure his notes were in order.

A quick scan of the room told him that his target was nowhere to be found. He released a shaky breath and relaxed as he sat in his usual seat, three seats down from Francis'. The minutes passed and the lecture hall filled but there was still no sign of the wispy dirty blonde hair he had grown so fond of.

During the lecture, he couldn't focus as he tried scribbling everything the old man droned on about, all too aware of the empty seat near the front of the room. Almost twenty minutes in, the door creaked and confident footsteps strode right past the front of the room. The blonde man waved to the professor-a cheeky move-and he took his place as though he didn't just interrupt a lecture hall with over 50 people.

Matthew watched the entire scene feeling secondhand embarrassment. How could Francis do something like that so shamelessly? The gentle giant tried to make himself smaller, hunching over in his seat, hiding his face in his book, shocked that someone who have the gall to so blatantly disrespect a professor like that. But the old man just chuckled heartily, taking it all in stride.

When the lecture ended, Matthew wanted to get as far away as possible from Francis, ready to continue avoiding him, so he scrambled to get his pens and notes back in his bag. As he was grabbing his notebook, a foreign hand slammed itself onto the cover, holding it firmly in place. Matthew's eyes followed the muscular arm littered with light blonde hairs.

"What the hell is your problem with me?," on his face was a smile, but his tone was sharp.

No, no, no. This isn't what he wanted. He just wanted Francis to notice him, but not like this! Matthew could only stare back at him, stunned at how someone could look so beautiful yet so intimidating.

"Well? I'm waiting," Francis lifted an eyebrow, lazily dropping his hand off of the notebook. He casually leaned off of an empty desk as the students continued pouring out of the room. "Did I do something to offend you?," his tone was concerned, or worried, perhaps guilty even, and that was when Matthew knew he had to force himself to say something.

"N-No…," Matthew finally stammered out hoarsely, somehow able to find his voice despite his thumping heart. He really hoped to God that Francis couldn't hear it, but the sound was almost deafening in his own ears. Rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans he kept his gaze fixed to the desk in front of him as he remained seated, facing the front of the room.

"Ah, so he speaks," Francis said with relief, gingerly sitting on the seat in front of Matthew, though he straddled the chair so he could face the silent brooding man. Now yet again, Matthew was painfully close to him. Whether Francis was mocking him, or ignorant of his plight, Matthew still wasn't sure. The beautiful blonde placed both elbows on Matthew's desk, and propped his head up on his hands, observing him closely.

Matthew on the other hand could hear his blood coursing through his ears from how hard his heart was pumping, and instinctively slid his seat back trying to put some distance between them. It was that flowery scent again, that mysterious smile, those violet-blue eyes boring into him; it was all sensory overload for Matthew to handle right now.

Francis on the other hand seemed almost offended that Matthew had jumped back from him, but he stood his ground, keeping his elbows on the first-year's desk.

Tentatively, Matthew brought one of his large calloused hands to his face, confirming his fear that yes he was indeed blushing madly, while Francis silently watched him. Although without his usual grin, it was unnerving. He couldn't tell what the man was thinking. Was he upset? Was he forgiven?

Unsure of what to say next, Matthew uttered the words that came most naturally to him, "I'm sorry." What was he apologizing for? He wasn't particularly sure, but the guilt he felt upon seeing Francis' expression felt unbearable.

Francis could only scoff, turning up his nose at Matthew. "I'm not here for an apology."

Matthew's shoulders hunched further into himself. If only the chair he sat on could swallow him whole... He could think of a million other places he'd rather be than here. "T-Then… uh…," he swallowed thickly, unsure how to fill the heavy silence between them, but Francis wouldn't look at Matthew anymore.

God, Matthew had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

"I was actually looking for you last week when you decided to skip class," he leaned back against the desk behind him, stretching his arms above his head.

Matthew glanced down and happened to catch a peek of his flat abs and they were maddeningly, intoxicatingly-

"You're friends with Feliciano, right?," Matthew could only blink in confusion, unsure where this was going.

"Yeah…?," he said, although it sounded more like a question. Rolling his eyes, Francis clearly looked annoyed.

"Can you introduce me? I've been trying to talk to him all week, but he's always with his brother," he shuddered, "I feel like he might rip my dick off for just looking at him."

Shifting in his seat, he felt an uncomfortable bubbling inside him. Was Francis interested in Feliciano? Sneaking a glance at him, he froze when he realized those blue eyes were looking straight at him, and it was too awkward for him to look away.

Was it obvious how distressed he was? How much he liked Francis?

"Would you happen to know if Feliciano is interested in men?"

Just then, it felt like his heart shattered into a million pieces. No longer could he hear the words Francis was saying. Dropping his head, he grabbed his bag, and quickly left the room, his notebook forgotten, as Francis called out behind him, still unsure of his name.

Matthew knew that if he stayed there any longer, Francis would have noticed the hot tears pooling in his eyes.

What was that? They were finally having a normal conversation, when the mysterious guy suddenly took off, and he looked pissed as hell. Was he interested in Feliciano? It was the only possible explanation Francis could think of, and he concluded that maybe it was why he was acting so standoffish around the Frenchman.

Well, shit. He definitely didn't want to mess with the love interest of a huge guy like that, no matter how cute Feliciano was. It definitely wasn't worth it, but it was so disappointing. After all, Feliciano had the cutest ass he'd ever seen. Sighing, the blonde rested his head against the quiet guy's desk, feeling stupid for having figured it all out so late. Even if he was notoriously flirtatious, it wasn't in his nature to go after someone else's prey, so he'd definitely have to apologize the next time he saw the mysterious guy.

As he leaned against his desk, Underneath his cheek, he felt something other than cold steel: a leather bound notebook? Francis snorted. Who still used those anyway? Almost everyone in the lecture used binders or spiral notebooks, this silent guy was definitely an old soul if he used a leather bound notebook. Curiosity burning at his fingertips, he peeled back the first few pages, impressed by the meticulous notes and elegant handwriting.

His own notes were pitiful, but truthfully, as a senior, he knew this class was useless and taking notes was rather pointless so that could only mean one of two things, the mysterious guy was either: a first-year or a nerd. Flipping through the pages, he found a name at the top of one of them, Matthew Williams.

"Matthieu," he said the name to himself quietly in the empty lecture hall, as he skimmed through the notes, though he was really more observing the careful pen strokes rather than the content of the lectures. After a few minutes, he realized what he was doing and packed his own bag, taking this 'Matthew's' notebook with him.

"Francis! What took you so long!," a tanned arm wrapped itself around the blonde's slim waist, pulling him closer to his dear friend's body. Francis could only chuckle at his friend's antics, welcoming the close contact, being the affectionate man that he was.

"I was trying to see if I could talk to one of Feliciano's friends, but I think my precious Italian stallion is taken."

"Ay, that's too bad. I'm sorry," Antonio wrapped his other arm around Francis pulling him in for a comforting hug, "but don't forget my offer is still on the table," he chuckled, only to be smacked playfully on the back by the heartbroken man.

"Oh, stop mocking me, Antoine," he rolled his eyes, using the dreaded French variant of his friend's name. Now it was Antonio rolling his eyes, letting go of him and stepping in front of Francis.

"Come, Francisco, let's find Gilbert. It's Friday and we should be drunk by now."

"Toni. It's only noon," he deadpanned, pointing to the designer watch on his wrist, but Antonio turned around, grinning brightly.

"That just means we can keep drinking longer!"

"No… that just means we're going to pass out by dinner time," Francis muttered to himself, but Antonio had already skipped along, eager to find their third drinking buddy.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!," Alfred, along with some of his other friends cheered as Matthew forcefully drank the sugary concoction known as jungle juice.

"Eugh, what's in this?"

"Shh… Mattie, don't even ask, don't even ask," the outgoing twin slurred, running his hand over the quiet twins face in an attempt to quiet him down. He clearly had one shot too many if the swaying on his feet or the red flush on his cheeks were any indicators.

"Al, should I take you back to the room?" Matthew was concerned, but the haze of alcohol was starting to affect him too. After what happened with him earlier with Francis, he wasn't sure how much he had to drink, but being friends with some older students they had gotten the opportunity to join in on a house party and drink to their hearts' content, uncharacteristic of Matthew, who usually spent Friday nights toiling away at the library.

"Dude stop, Artie's like right over there. I'm so fucking ready to make my move," Alfred smacked Mathew's hands away and pointed towards a short blonde guy who was yelling rather emphatically to a handsome man with long hair, who seemed oddly familiar, but with Matthew's drunken mind he couldn't quite place him.

"Hey, Matthew," a voice called out over the music from behind him, though he turned around and saw nothing but air. A soft chuckle. "No, down here, silly!"

"Oh, hey Feliciano," Matthew greeted bitterly the alcohol making him more honest than usual, though he quickly smacked his cheek, reminding himself that it wasn't the cheery Italian's fault that Francis was interested in him.

"Uh, are you okay?"

"Ahaha…," the flush on his cheeks was either from embarrassment or alcohol or maybe both, "I'm fine, I just remembered something stupid…," his voice trailed off, avoiding the small man's brown eyes. "What's up, is there something you needed?"

"You just seemed a little bit down is all," Feliciano looked down at his solo cup with a bit of disgust, before setting it down on a coffee table. "If something's wrong you know you can talk to your friends, ok?"

The smile that grew on Matthew's face had to be a product of the alcohol, but he thanked him anyway. And almost too suddenly, the overly affectionate Feliciano launched himself into Matthew's arms, giving his friend a tight hug. With the help of all the drinks he had that night, he hugged him back, chuckling to diffuse just how uncomfortable he actually was.

The two returned to the rest of their friends, chatting away, enjoying the rest of the party.

Alongside Gilbert and Antonio, Francis threw back another shot as he watched Matthew walk away with his arm around Feliciano.