TW: Slight mention of drug use

I don't own Death Note, woo-hoo.

I like this chapter. Near is so adorable.

"That's really cool."

Wasn't what I expected out of Mihael Keehl's mouth.

In a second my heart jumped from either the shocking kindness he was showing towards me, some invisible, gay, depressed, hopeless loser or how perfect and stunningly handsome, and breathtakingly beautiful Mihael Keehl was when he gave a warm smile.

His cheeks tint a little fuzzy pink, and his lips are smooth.

And my heart melts.

I don't have a chance in Hell, but I'm going to like you anyway.

Deal?

Yeah, deal.

My thoughts speed out of my mouth as if I was now a crushed-ice dispenser those fancy refrigerators have. My words were just coming out broken, and scratched because I was so surprised, that a popular kid, wait, no, not just a popular kid, but the king of the school, and probably the most beautiful guy who goes here, isn't treating me like the homosexual scum I usually was referred to.

"W-W-What? R-Really? What's the catch?"

His smile grew even larger, and he let out a breath with a cute, soft laugh caught in it.

"There's no catch. It's cool that you're gay… I just didn't know you were, so I was surprised."

My eyebrows raised to ceiling, "Are you being serious right now? The whole school knows I'm gay… Well, half , the half that went to Nelson middle, anyway." I slumped down against the wall. I'm so dizzy from the stun Mihael is giving me right now.

"I didn't go to Nelson middle… I went to Keith... Well, almost three years ago, anyway." he giggled and sat down next to me.

"Don't a lot of popular people talk a lot of shit about stuff like this?" I looked down a bit shy, and kicked my ked against the floor, scraping it.

"Yeah, but, if it makes you feel any better.., I don't talk shit. I just listen to it because a lot of kids hover around me. And, trust me, it's a lot of bullshit. Like, who the fuck cares, you know? It's high school. They all love to talk bullshit because they're too bored to do anything else. The shit they talk wont even matter once you're out of here, and fuck, why should it matter now?" he shook my shoulder in support.

My heart was skipping beats. I liked his fingertips.

I wanted more of his fingertips.

I wanted to throw myself at him and hug him, because I'm pretty sure he's my new hero. But it would be too awkward, and I'm pretty sure in my status, I'm not even allowed to touch Mihael Keehl. This was dream wasn't it? Here is the most popular kid in school giving me some inspirational mini speech that made perfect sense. Hell, it gave me sense. It kicked Gevanni's Popular Anarchy guide out of my head, probably for the rest of my life now.

He made sense.

Why should I care?

It's not like all these kids will care when they graduate and get on with their lives.

Why didn't I just think about that before?

Was it brainwash? Was I stubborn? Was I too depressed to pay attention?

He understands.

He was supposed to understand anyway, because last year, Winter time, it had to be hard on him.

It still is.

It still is…

Gevanni.

"Mihael?" I popped out of my thought bubble; "Yeah?" he blinked, giving all attention.

My heart warmed when I noticed he's actually listening to me.

"I'm really sorry what Gevanni said the other day, he was a real ass for doing that. I'm really, really, sorry. He does need anger management… what he said was way out of line, and I apologize for that from the bottom of my heart… It was a terrible thing to say considering what horrible stuff happened to you last year…" I think my lip even quivered from the last part.

Last year, it was hard for both of us and I felt his pain, considering him being rumored in a mental hospital for months, and I lost my mother.

"It's okay, don't apologize for something you didn't do." Mihael shot another warm smile at me again.

"Well… I have to go and get my Varsity Jacket, then get my ass to football… and I'm pretty sure you're late for track…" he said, a bit awkwardly.

Mihael stretched out his legs and got up, brushing the dirt off the back of his pants.

Ah. He probably didn't want to talk to me anymore.

Why do I have to be so boring and dumb?

I shook the thought out of my head, he was too nice to do that, right?

I hauled myself up as well, rolling my shoulders back.

"I'm sorry…" I said again. I didn't know how to act anymore. My depression was coming back to me.

"Don't say sorry. Stop saying sorry."

"Sorry."

Mihael comes up closer to me, and my heart starts racing a gazillion miles per hour because my imagination isn't controlling itself and it's dreaming that he's going to give me a kiss.

He bops me on top of the head.

His thumbs gingerly lace over my lips and he whispers to me, looking straight into my eyes, with his ice determined flames,

"Don't ever, ever, say the word 'sorry' to me, ever again."

I couldn't breathe so nothing came out in response.

I gulped.

"Got that?"

I nod slowly. He takes a step back from me.

"Good… I'll see you around, Nate…" he gave me his signature warm smile, (that would probably beat the goddamn sun in a landslide,) and opened the Varsity Football Team's locker room and disappeared.

I finally caught my breath.

I think just started crushing really hard on the legendary Mihael Keehl.

No.

No.

I'm going to ignore my feelings, it would slow down my running if I over thought about it so much. I decided it was time to be a zombie, or a robot, or the new Mexican exchange student that doesn't know English one bit and doesn't give a damn to communicate with the other American Scum around him.

I pulled the Boys Locker Room door, and went into the musk of spice deodorants, and the sweat smell of sour cream, mixed in with that stale laundry softener. Sometimes, the smell of men made me wonder why the hell I was gay. I mean girls smell like flowers, and candy, and nice shampoo, while guys just smell like an eight day old sock.

Not Mihael Keehl, though.

My lips somehow automatically curled into a smile. I kicked off my keds and started to tie up my running cleats while his image rushed into my mind. The one where he got closer to me. I caught a tiny whiff of his neck.

It smelt like wine and strawberries, chocolate, and a musk of a vaguely familiar incense I couldn't quite remember. And his shirt, it smelt like just done laundry. His mom (or dad, or whoever does his laundry, really,) must put a lot of fabric softener in there, and it makes him smell so good mixed into his cologne.

I shook the thoughts out of my head again.

No, I didn't want to fall in love with someone I can't have.

I don't want to be even more crushed inside than I already am.

I went with my usual plan to stop thinking about Mihael.

I mean what's the point of liking him? He's not going to like me back anyway so why even bother?

Why bother?

"Nate, listen to me when I'm talking to you."

"Nate!"

I snapped out of my daydream.

"Sorry, what?" I said drowsily sounding a bit stoned.

"Do you even care? God! I'm supposed to be your best friend."

"Uh-huh." I said, barely into what Gevanni was saying.

"You're not listening! Are you on drugs?! Did that asshole Mihael Keehl give you Chronic or something?! I'll kill him!" he slammed his hand on my desk. I jump.

"N-No! I'm not on drugs! Mihael was just pep-talking me…"

"More like drug dealing you! Don't be lying, you're on drugs! Normal people don't act act this way, Nate!" Gevanni takes my Time magazine, twists it up into a bat, and bumps me on the head with it. It gave a loud snap.

"Damn it, Gevanni that kind of hurt…"

"Good!"

"Why are you so caught up with me just having a slight crush on him anyway…" I mumbled, trying to go back to staring at my Pre-Calc problems.

"Be-cause!" he blunted, "I don't want you to go for this guy! He's a piece of shit! A douche! And I don't want you heartbroken, he's not going to go for you! He's Mihael Keehl he probably eats out the cheerleaders almost everyday." he rolls his eyes.

"Cut it out, Gevanni! He's not like that!" I got so angry, I actually started raising my voice. I never raised my voice.

"Really? Or do you forget bipolar people, like Mihael, have different personalities?!"

"He's nice and I know it." I bulged my eyes in annoyance trying to focus on my homework.

Gevanni sighs and drops himself down with a generous bouncing slam on my bed.

"Fine. BUT, don't forget I will be rubbing it into your face when he, someday, will reject you. Because Gevanni's got you, Gevanni knows best-"

I cut him off.

I was fuming.

"NO, you know what? NO. Gevanni, you don't got me. You just want me to do things based on what you think, so just drop it! When's the last time we did something I want? Huh? Or something I said?! When's the last time you took my advice, or took what I said and accepted it?! Just leave it alone! So what? I have a tiny crush on Mihael, oh well! I can't control how I feel! I don't care what you even think anymore, Gevanni!" I slammed the textbook closed, and grabbed my head in anger, pulling my locks.

"Because you are a starving little lamb, Nate! I try to help you because I love you! You're needy. You were fucking adopted for Christ sakes, your mother died, and your father is barely a father anymore. You need someone to take care of you."

"Well, that someone should be Mihael Keehl." I mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

"What." Gevanni jerks, hissing the aftermath of the 't.'

"Nothing..." I mumble again.

"No, what the fuck did you just say, Nate?!"

"I want Mihael instead of you! Happy now? Because I've only known him for ten minutes and so far he understands me better than you!"

Gevanni's tears rise. I gulped, guilty at the sight.

"Okay. Fine. Just forget that ONE night Nate. That one night I saved your ass. Was Mihael Keehl there? No! I was there. It was me! And it was real! If it wasn't me – You'd be fucking dead." he spits the last sentence in a grim, slow, voice.

My voice jerks and stops from saying anything else. Anything else insensitive.

Gevanni deserved so much better than what I had just yelled at him for the past five minutes.

He saved my life. What the hell was I doing?

"Gevanni – I'm so sor-" my voice starts to jerk.

"Fuck you!" he sobs, slinging on his back pack on his right shoulder.

And there goes the slam of my door that silences the screaming.

And I sob so loud, you can't hear the music Matsuda's playing downstairs anymore.