Author's Note- [Kaila] I'm on a roll here. I brought Banks into this kiddos. As my boyfriend would say about his Mormon stepbrothers who think they're black thugs and listen to The Starting Line, "They're a little confused". Just like Banksie. Jessi will be back soon with Bash Slash to add. She also threw in some of the writing, I hit a rut so she gave me a couple paragraphs to work with, she's my hero.

Disclaimer- I don't own jack. If you'd like to sue I can get Cubby to buy you a frosty and get a free Prijon kayak with complimentary stickers instead.

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[crazy4nc128] Ahh thank you. Anyway the only definite slash pairing is Fulton/Portman (which no ones knows about). There will be hints of slash amongst other characters but no definite relationships. One sided slash angst is the best!

[NYgoldfish54] I just live for angst if you can't tell. Anyway you'll find out sure enough about the drugs Casey found…

[anne918] I adore Charlie angst too. If I were a guy I'd probably attempt to jack off to it (okay rambling now). Anyway don't worry you'll have enough of Banksie coming up ;-)

[Padfoots-Pirate] Like I said Kaitlin, I get off on angst. It's fun dammit :-D :-D

[Meme-Anne] Yes, I get Kariya :does a little dance: I'd be glad to share him though.

[C-chan96] Ah Conway angst. :grins: I think it's the best because he comes off so damn perfect in the movies. Any kid in his situation wouldn't exactly be well off in the head. But there will be much more of that to come…

[KShyne99] There will be Banks, do not fear! I'm not a big fan of either of the girls myself, it was quite easy to write Connie out. She'll still be making appearances though, very much involved in the plot.

Thank you to everyone who's taken the time out of their busy schedules to read this.

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Adam sauntered melodramatically down the dim hallway of the dorm. The windows at either end let in traces of moonlight that was overpowered by overhead lamps every couple metres. Charlie had gone home for the weekend, to visit his mom who had gotten time off work. Adam put on his game face, smiling as his roommate shared the news with him. In reality he was bitterly jealous. He was the cake eater, the one who had the picturesque family, the beautiful childhood, yet it was all a facade. He envied Charlie, he may have been poor, had a single mom, but from those stories he told to Adam sometimes at night, the blinds of the room drawn shut, the tales he wove from the darkness, were the things Adam had always longed for. Driving up with just his parents to go camping in Canada, nights spent at home watching movies and cooking (and occasionally burning) dinner, his family showing up to support him at most of his practices and games. He would have killed for that. 'Suppose it's that damn analogy or whatever, the grass is always greener on the other side,' he shrugged to himself.

As he approached his room he ran head onto a moving figure which snapped him out of his longing daze.

"Watch where the fuck you're going Cake-Eater," the blonde spat, her usually twinkling green eyes misted and glazed over, dull, empty and bloodshot, her hair falling disheveled past her shoulders. Gaffney was no priss but she usually had a minor sense of upkeep to her. Yet from a glance her hair was greasy and tangled, t-shirt wrinkled, sweats stained, all with dark circles shadowing her eyes. Adam bit his lip,

"Sorry Julie, didn't mean too," he mumbled, his eyes on the intricate designs of the burgandy carpeting.

"That's what they all say, careless prick," she spat back picking up her pace, cursing her way down the hall towards the stairs. Adam shrugged off the sudden outburst as PMS or some other "chick problem" and continued on the intuitive path to his dorm.

Instinctively opening the door he sprawled across the first bed he could get to, Charlie's.  His had his hockey bag on his own; there was too much effort involved in moving it off. Pressing his face into the navy blue pillow, the flannel worn with use, he inhaled deeply, the scents of cologne, sweat and… Conway filling his lungs. The fragrance still lingering comfortingly he turned over staring at the textured ceiling sighing.  His brother had gotten into Yale on a hockey scholarship.  That one day, his mother had called screeching about how she didn't raise her kids to get B's in school.  She didn't raise her kids at all.  All she had done was work.  Sure, Charlie's mom worked too, but his own mom didn't even have to. Charlie's mom did it because she loved him and would do anything to support him. His mom did it to impress that nauseatingly distinct social class she belonged to. His damn mother who attended the debutoine meetings, and went to the Southern Baptist church twice a week and hosted magnifigant parties. And his father.  Oh G-d, he had tried so hard as a kid to please him.  To be as good as his brother; the stories of failure and lost attempts were endless and repetitive, to put it bluntly, he never was. 

"Why can't you ever be as good as Mark?" echoed through his head at every malfunction.  The Goodwill games, he was devastated when Bombay found out.  Coach didn't understand.  His father didn't have another son to compare him to.  He was only under his own pressure.  Adam would never even conceive of ruling his own life.  Mark did.  His father did.  He did love hockey, but it wasn't fun anymore.  It hadn't been fun for a while.  It became only a way for his father to guide his rule under his hard hand.

He wished he could be more like Charlie, he exhaled deeply, have passion for the game. His eyes wandered aimlessly around the room, to the glossy posters on the walls of some of both the boy's role models. Paul Kariya, Peter Forsberg, Mats Sundin, Steve Yzerman and  Joe Sakic, the best of the NHL offensive leaders, adorned the white washed walls. Charlie had stapled a couple Playboy centrefolds over his bed at the beginning of the year, against what he must have conceived as Adam's joking protests. But he really despised them. Their tight bronzed skin, perfectly curved bodies and breasts, their long silky hair, it was all sickening to him, sent chills of disgust to his stomach. But he could never say anything without risk of being a 'gay ass pansy'.

He lay there, lost in thought, not wanting to return to the Rec Room to watch movies unaccompanied, on a corner of the couch until he could no longer manage to keep his eyes open. He could join Fulton and Portman if he wanted to get trashed or stoned. Averman, Ken and Goldberg spent their time off attempting and failing to pick up the girls of Eden, something Adam despised anyway, Dwayne and Russ were probably off causing some havoc, like mischievous chaos was something they got off on, or if he was feeling particularly suicidal he could go kamikaze and track down Julie to see what the hell was going on. As logic began to register he decided his best choice was none of the options, rather to sleep away the empty hours, until practice.

With that thought in mind, and the muffled clatter that came across the hallway, where some party had probably begun, he closed his eyes. Drifting off to thoughts of Conway and the sounds of 'To the window…. To the wall… Until the sweat drops off my balls… All these females crawl…".