Two weeks before the day that would change our lives forever . . .

With each passing day, I am becoming more and more accustomed to Leon and his quirky presence. I wouldn't quite call us friends, but at this point, I'm not sure you could call us rivals, either. The line inbetween the two blurs each time we meet in the hallway, each time we wait for the other after our first class, and it even boils down to detention, where Leon always saves me seat next to him. Rivals definitely don't save each other a spot in the lunch line, and they certainly don't give each other class notes to use in study hall. I've never had a rival before, so I'm not familiar with such customs. But if this is what true rivalry is... I guess I don't mind it.

The weeks pass by, and before I realize it, spring is nearly over. Thank goodness, too. I've never been a big fan of the springtime. Call it ill luck or a weak immune system, I always, always get terribly sick in the last week of spring. This particular Friday morning, I have developed a merciless cough and a killer headache, both of which keep me unpleasantly lurched over my bed like a sack of potatoes. Each time I attempt to get out of bed or try to lean over my nightstand for a spoonful of chicken noodle soup, I see stars, and I don't mean the star-shaped noodles in the soup bowl.

I try my best to catch some shut-eye throughout the day, but inevitably, I wake up every twenty minutes with a hacking cough or a throbbing headache. I give up hope of catching a recovery nap and instead choose to stay awake. With nothing better to do, I decide to watch some TV. The cool thing about living in international territory is the TV channels are stations from all over the world! After flipping through all the options, I settle for an energetic American game show called The Price is Right. People are screaming, shouting, and jumping up and down as if their lives depend on it, and the ringing noises and flashing lights are enough to make me dizzy. This is definitely the kind of show Americans would like.

Ding-dong!

The doorbell? It doesn't sound like it came from the television just now. I hear footsteps scuffle on the wood floor downstairs, and when the front door opens, a soft tremble resonates throughout the house. I hold my breath, praying the door isn't for me.

Please be the mailman.
Please be the mailman.
Please be...

"Emil! You have a visitor," He calls from downstairs.

Crap. Now I have to leave my comfy bed, after I already became so settled in... Such is the life of an introverted shut-in.

I wrap a heavy fleece blanket over my head and shoulders. All bundled up like a burrito, I teeter down the stairs on my tiptoes, careful not to trip over the fabric. The further down the stairs I go, I can start to make out the sight of Lukas's back, and slowly, another person comes into view.

"Leon?!" I take a leap backwards. My legs buckle and I step on my blanket, swiftly falling on my ass in the middle of the living room. That's when it hits me:

My rival.
In the flesh.
At my doorstep.

"Ah, what a surprise. Emil, I had no idea you and Li Xiao made up," my brother coos, "Last time I saw you, you had a black eye." Lukas smiles at Leon, likely not realizing his words could be taken as offensive. Typical Lukas. However, Leon doesn't seem to mind and he bows. My brother steps aside and holds the door open, gesturing inside the house like an usher. "Please, come in. I'm making dinner soon."

Panicked, I reach my hand out in the direction of the door. "Wait, Lukas! Don't let-!"

"Please pardon the intrusion." Leon steps inside and politely takes off his shoes, one by one, leaving them neatly arranged on the doormat by the entrance.

"...him in." I let down my hand and sigh.

Lukas looks displeased at me and puts a hand on his hip. "Little Brother, don't be rude to our guest. Show him around the house, why don't you?" He waves his hand in the air, motioning me to move out of the common area.

I smile through my teeth and mutter, "Of course. This way, Leon..."

We cover the entire first floor within five minutes, and Leon couldn't possibly look more astonished. Every painting, every plant, every valuable vase... No matter how mundane the object, he stops in his tracks and stares, like he's never seen such pieces before. He would probably touch them if I didn't push his hand away in time. After long, all that's left is the room upstairs- my room. My legs are aching, but Leon diligently keeps up with my pace as he stands shoulder-to-shoulder at my side. Do natives of Hong Kong always stand this close? The hallway itself was small and cramped, but it offered a pleasant view of the living room and direct access to all the major rooms in the house. Family portraits lined the walls leading to the stairs. One portrait in particular catches Leon's eye. As I start to climb upstairs, Leon stops in his tracks and stares at a small photo in a reddish-brown picture frame. "Who is this?" I hear him call behind me.

I carefully turn around on the stairs, resting a hand on the railing. Peering back at him, I watch as he brushes off dust from the tiny photo's surface. "Oh, that picture?" I step downstairs and glance at the particular photo in question. I look over Leon's shoulder and make out the picture: Two young children- brothers- playing in the snow. "This is Lukas," I say, pointing to the taller of the two. The Lukas in this picture looks older by four or five years. He's resting his hands on the younger boy's shoulders, staring modestly at the camera with his silent cobalt eyes. "And this is me." I then point to the smaller boy, who is turned away from the camera like it might kill him to look. The young Emil- a short lad with disheveled white hair- holds a small stuffed puffin in his arms like a shield across his chest.

"I like it." He says, tilting the picture on the wall to the appropriate angle.

I nod. "Me too. Mathias took it when we were younger."

"Mathias?" He cocks his head to the side at the unfamiliar name.

I nod, looking around the picture wall for another photo. "Aha, this one right here." I let my finger land on a photo higher up on the collage. It's a picture of a modern-day Lukas pinching the cheek of a taller man with crazy blond hair and blue eyes. "Mathias is my brother's childhood friend and fiance. He lives here, too, but right now he's visiting family in Denmark before the two of them get married."

Leon's eyes are practically sparkling at the photo. "...Your family is really cool, rival."

"'Cool...?'" I ask as I walk back upstairs. Leon eagerly follows and we approach my room, the first door on the right.

"To the left is the bathroom. And this..." I place a hand on the already-open door and gently push it forward, "...is my room."

Leon wastes no time charging past me and rushing into the bedroom. He prances around like a child on the opening day of a candy store. "What's this? And this? I've never seen this before... Will this break if I drop it? ...Oops, guess that's a 'yes'. What's that over there...?!"

"LEON! Quit touching my stuff!" I shout. This transfer student may not look it, but underneath that calm, silent demeanor of his, he's wound like a bundle of fireworks. I wonder how many people from school know this side of Leon? The brunet pays no heed to my words as grabs the TV remote from my nightstand. He fumbles with the controller in his hands, presses a button, then looks back up the the television to see the channel he's changed it to.

I'm getting dizzy just watching him move around so rapidly. My head spins in place as I try to find my words. "I... I was watching that..." I slide my back against a bedpost as I carefully lower myself onto the floor. My headache is one thing, but my legs feels so weak, lately.

"Really? But it looked so boring," he moans stiffly as he gradually becomes more and more invested in a melodramatic K-Drama on the next channel. He plops down next to me on the floor, leaving just inches between us. The brunet looks so comfortable, you would think it was his room.

"...Did you come all the way here to watch my TV?" I ask after a solid ten minutes of silence between the two of us. Peeling his eyes from the K-Drama, he looks as if to say something, but he can't seem to find his train of thought until moments later.

"Oh, right. I came here to bring your homework." He looks quite pleased with himself as he smiles triumphantly. I can tell he's about to begin his rant. "You sure missed out on a lot, rival. Detention was like, the best thing ever. I got tasked out to clean the teachers' lounge by myself, and wow- you'd never guess all the cool stuff they have in there. I'll show you tomorrow. But for now..." He pats the large stack of papers peeking out the top of his backpack, held together by a binder clip.

I'm not sure why Leon would go so far to grant me this favor. He could have easily let me collect my own assignments from my teachers in the morning. It's not like he owes me, nor has he even once called me by name. He still calls me "rival" just as he did the day we were dragged into the principal's office. Come to think of it... Does he even know my name?

"Leon," I call out.

His ears perk and he peers at me like a pet cat. "Yes?"

I look him in the eye, and he appears curious as ever. With the straightest, most sincere face I can muster, I make my demand: "Say my name."

"Don't tell me..." He boggles at me as if I was speaking ancient Icelandic. "You've fallen so ill that you don't even remember your own name...?!" He softly rests the back of his palm against my cheek. Up and down, he feels my forehead, my chin, my neck... My face heats up like an oven. Somehow, this feels much different from when Lukas felt my skin for my temperature earlier. Then,without warning, Leon sweeps the bangs away from my face and presses his forehead against mine. Our noses just barely touch and I can practically feel his breath on my skin. ? Would it be considered bad manners to push him away? Is this a weird kind of kiss they do in Hong Kong? More importantly, can he read my mind this way, like aliens do in those crazy sci-fi movies?! I'm not sure exactly where to look, so I close my eyes. I sit unnervingly still until Leon backs away and lets his bangs fall over his face.

"You still have a fever," he announces at long last with utmost certainty. His hot breath against my skin gives me goosebumps.

"Thank you for the expert opinion." I look away. "I only asked because you've never called me by my name. I'm starting to think you don't remember it," I say, tugging at the collar of my purple Björk t-shirt. Is it just me, or has the room suddenly become hot and stuffy?

With a tilt of his head, it looks like Leon finally gets it. "Your name," he says simply. "That's easy." He brings his palms up to the air as if it were a no-brainer. "'Rival'."

I kneel on my bed, bringing my forehead to my knees and sigh. This guy! My headache throbs angrily in disbelief. Pushing locks of white hair from out of my eyes, I peer at him from over my knees. "You're really strange, you know that...?"

The corners of the other boy's lips tilt into a cheeky smirk. "Thank you."

"Not a compliment!"

As Leon fishes through the assignments, organizing them neatly into manageable stacks, I begin to feel a bit faint. The mood has certainly lifted with Leon here, but my headache is returning at the mere thought of school. It's going to take some miracle drug to wade through this illness.

"I'll make us some tea before we get started," I announce as I leave the table. A cup of hot tea with lemon and honey would really hit the spot right now, especially with my sore throat. I turn to Leon before exiting the bedroom. "Any requests?"

"I'll have whatever you're having," He says, looking over his shoulder. As I leave, I see him crawl towards my bed, but I don't think much of it. Leon's odd- very odd- and I was slowly coming to terms with this. Slowly.

I put the water on the kettle and turn up the heat on the stove range. I lean against the nearby kitchen counter with my hands stuffed in my pajama pockets, thinking about the current circumstances. If you asked this morning how I planned on spending my sick day, my answer definitely would not have been, "Drinking honey-lemon tea in my bedroom with my rival". Oh, hmm. Rather... it sounds like a plotline to a sappy romance novel when I put it that way...

I carefully pour the entire contents of the pot into large cups. In both cups, I mix in a teaspoon of honey and few drops of lemon juice. My cousin from Finland used to tell me this sort of beverage would clear any sore throat in a jiffy. ...Although, he also liked to mix alcohol in his tea. I grab both cups and carefully tote them upstairs.

"Tea's ready," I announce to Leon as I enter the room. Only... Leon is nowhere to be seen.

"...Leon?"

I see a flicker of movement from underneath my bed. Leon's backside is peeking out the side of my legs stick out from under the bed as his torso moves from side to side. Did he perhaps drop a pen? Is he stuck!? No... It looks as though he is searching for something.

"Is this where Rival keeps his erotic magazines?"

"Get out from under there!" I throw a teaspoon at him. "You aren't going to find anything interesting."

"How boring," Leon resurfaces from underneath the bed and claps the dust from his dirtied hands. "There's really nothing under here." He wipes his hands on his checkered uniform slacks. I give him a stern look as to say, 'Well, what did you expect?!' Ignoring my glare, Leon glances over at the clock on my nightstand and rolls up his sleeves "As for that homework... Let's get started, shall we?"

We waste no time speeding through our homework.

"You're surprisingly good at English, Leon." I rub the side of neck as I close my English textbook and put away my completed homework assignment.

Leon shrugs. "It's what happens when you live in an English household for two years, I suppose." He calmly shuts his textbook and instead of putting it away, playfully attempts to balance the textbook on the edge of the table as if it were a finely tuned scale.

"You lived where, now?"

His textbook falls flat on the surface with a thud and he looks at me from over his shoulder. There is a particular sparkle in his eyes. "I didn't tell you before? Arthur Kirkland... is my half-brother."

I reflexively drop my pencil on the table. I can feel the gears in my head spinning as everything clicks into place. "You... You're related to the school president?!"

He looks at me and nonchalantly flicks a piece of hair from out of his eyes. "Yeah. When I was in middle school, my older brother needed to focus on his new job in China, so I stayed with Arthur's side of the family until then."

Without thinking, I grab his chin, tilting it upward, and inch my face close to his. With less than a few centimeters between his face and my own, I can easily make out his facial features that give dead giveaway to his Kirkland heritage: thick eyebrows. Arthur has eyebrows like these as well, doesn't he? The longer I examine Leon's face, the more his English features stand out: his defined jawline, his pointed chin, his ever-so-slightly upturned nose...

"Rival, not that I mind... But how much longer are you going to handle my face so roughly?"

I blush and let out a noise that was half embarrassment, half dignity. I release his face like a hot potato and brush myself off. I softly cough into the back of my sleeve and mutter, "I guess... You do kind of look like a Kirkland after all."

He chuckles and waves his hands back and forth. "Sorry, sorry. It must be a little shocking. Anyway, now you know why I speak English as well as I do."

Just then, my bedroom door flies open as my brother Lukas barges into my room without permission. He wields a metal spatula in his hand over his head as if it were a weapon. "Little Brother!" he stares down at me, waving the spatula in my general direction, "Is your friend going to stay for dinner? I can make a Norwegian dish using the family recipe. Since you've never brought a friend home before, I'll make sure it's extra deliciou-"

"He doesn't need to know that!" I rush over to my older brother to cover his mouth before he spouts more embarrassing and pathetic facts about my sheltered teenage life in front of our guest.

"You've never had a friend over before, Rival?" Leon interrupts. His face lights up with wonder as he turns to me.

Lukas heartily puts his arm over Leon's shoulder like they've been friends for years. Leon doesn't seem to mind. "It's true. Little Brother always sticks to himself at school, that little introvert. For him to invite you over for dinner... You must really mean a lot to him."

"I will treasure this moment always." Leon proudly holds a fist over his heart, deeply moved, and Lukas wipes a single tear from his eye as he stares off into an imaginary sunset.

"I didn't even invite him!" My words are lost on my doting brother and rival as they babble on and on about who-knows-what. "You two are too much alike..."

"I would love to stay for dinner," Leon says. But then, he heaves a disappointed sigh and his shoulder roll backward. "However, I really should be getting home soon. My brother will be worried..." His wistful smile leads me to believe he truly would stay longer if he could. Instead, he brushes it off and replaces it with his usual blank expression. He walks toward the stairs, past me, and says, "Oh. I have to get my stuff from your room, rival."

I wait for him at the bottom step. When he reappears at the top, he's sliding an arm through the sleeve of his school jacket. Our eyes meet briefly as he walks into the living room. I hold the door open for him. Who said chivalry's dead? ...Er... No.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Leon gasps as he steps back into the doorway. His face is just inches from mine. The distance, or lack thereof, is unnerving, but I don't step away- I'll just have to get used to the short distance Hong Kongers keep from others while speaking. Leon turns his head to the side and smiles. "Is it okay if I come over again sometime?"

My face reddens like a rose and I shy away. I bashfully cough into my fist and let the words come out. "...You don't have to ask, idiot..." I gently push him out the door and he hops down the steps gleefully. When he turns and waves, I reluctantly peek out from behind the door and toss him a short wave of the hand in reply. Once he's out of sight, I shut the door behind me and take in a deep breath. Leon wants to come over again? I'll be sure to have the tea ready beforehand, and I'll definitely make sure to clean my room, even under my bed.

Little did I know his next visit would be under tragic circumstances.

A/N: Hello! I'm sorry for not introducing myself sooner! I just wanted to take a brief moment to give thanks to the readers of Firecrackers in the Teachers Lounge, especially the very kind readers who give me the motivation to keep on writing. Without you, this fiction may not have made it past the drawing board. From this chapter on out, things will really start picking up from here. I have big plans in mind for this fanfiction, so I hope you'll stick around and see Leon and Emil's 'rivalry' bloom! - Three-Sided Square