Disclaimer: I don't own Falling Slowly, nor do I know Damian or Cameron.

Note: I will get back to writing Hallelujah, dear readers, so no worries with that. This semester is more rigorous than last, and now that I'm involved with Campus Activities Board and switched my work hours, my schedule is a bit hectic. I thought I'd just leave you with this for now, dearest fans.

Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react

Cameron, Damian thought to himself over and over as he lay in bed that night. His name is Cameron. He wondered desperately what Cameron's voice sounded like, as he'd never heard it before, and if a beautiful sound would emit from his throat that matched perfectly his beautiful face. Damian shuddered with newfound desire as he thought about the way Cameron moved, the way his hips swung from side to side tantalizingly, how he had smelled vaguely like cinnamon when he was close by. He gasped as he looked down to find himself half-aroused, instantly feeling a rush of emotions. He'd had a girlfriend, it was true, for nearly a year before she broke his heart. He loved her, of course he loved her. He just hated what she did to him. But Damian did not want to think about that right now. All he wanted to think about was Cameron.

God, Damian thought to himself. Why am I so obsessed with a person I have hardly met? He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow, half-expecting it to smell like home, but found that it smelled of some fancy American fabric softener. Instead of feeling soothed, he crinkled his nose and flopped onto his side, staring at the window on the wall across from him. A full moon shone through, casting a pale light into the room and across his face. He glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand and watched the red numbers roll from 1:03 to 1:04. Sighing, he dug into the drawer of the nightstand, took out a black leather-bound journal, and began to write…

Damian felt a little more confident walking into school the next day. He found his locker easily, and prayed that if he stayed around long enough, Cameron would show up. Even if he only got a glimpse of the boy, Damian would be satisfied. Time passed, and before he knew it, there were only five minutes before homeroom began. Giving up hope (and briefly forgetting that Cameron was, in fact, in his Physics class later that day), he began to shuffle towards the door, only to spot Cameron heading down the hall out of the corner of his eye. "Cameron, hey!" He waved as the boy passed. Cameron didn't answer; he kept walking down the hall and around the left corner. Sighing, Damian closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, wondering why his heart fluttered and his stomach leapt whenever he saw the blonde. After all, he was straight, wasn't he?

Wasn't he?

Damian sat in his Physics class, anxiously awaiting Cameron's arrival. When the bell rang and the blonde boy had not made his appearance, Damian relaxed a little, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Cameron walked in a few moments later.

"I will speak with you after class, Mr. Mitchell," their no-nonsense teacher said.

Cameron Mitchell, Damian thought to himself, writing it down in his memory. He opened his notebook and tried to focus on the notes in front of him on the board, but inside, he was trembling like a leaf on an autumn tree. He took in a breath and inhaled that spicy, cinnamon smell that was Cameron Mitchell, committing it to memory, hoping to smell it later in his dreams. Without consciously realizing it, he began to doodle hearts in the margins of his notes, and several times he caught himself about to write Cameron's name, but quickly erased the beginning letters before anyone could see. When the bell rang, he slowly packed up his belongings and strayed outside the classroom until Cameron walked out, his face impassive and unreadable. "Cameron," he said, loud enough to be able to be heard over the crowd of students that flocked the halls.

"What?" Cameron spun around, staring down at Damian, where he towered a good four inches over the dark-haired boy. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

Damian fumbled in his mind for the words he wanted to say. "I'm Damian McGinty," he said in a rush. "I'm your locker mate."

"I have absolutely no idea what you just said," Cameron blinked at him after several moments' silence. " Sorry. But I have to go to work now. See you around, what's-your-name."

Damian watched as he walked away, embarrassed to have made a fool of himself, eyes trained on Cameron's ass for reasons he could not decipher at the moment. His face reddened as he realized what he was doing, and at how amazingly tight and skinny Cameron's jeans were. Cameron's voice rang through his head, straying around his ears like mosquitoes. There was a slow, deliberate way in which he spoke that captured Damian, with just a touch of accent in his words. Damian shuffled to his locker, spinning the dial open and pulling out what he needed, putting away what he didn't. He silently cursed himself for being so moonstruck over Cameron; chances were he had a girlfriend, a handsome man like him. And besides, why would he want someone like Damian, who was so broken and lost?

And in that case, who would ever want someone like Damian?

Because she certainly didn't.