Please don't misunderstand me - I love Russia very much. I promise that you will not hate him, in the end. But also, understand what Toris is feeling at the moment... (this will have bearing later, as well). I just want to let you know that Ivan is actually one of my favorite characters and he is not a rapetruck.

After being chewed out by Wang Yao, the floor prefect, because their shared dresser was a mess – "It's so not a mess! I know exactly where every- hey, where's my tie?" – Feliks and Toris tumbled down to the dining hall for breakfast. They were late, and there was more oatmeal on the table than in the serving tureen. Ah… Berwald and Lukas had been in another argument. In fact, Orin was dragging Lukas out of the room, rattling on about him "being a child" and accusing him of starting the whole argument, while simultaneously violently apposing any attempts Lukas made to defend himself. Feliks pulled Toris out of the way as the arguing couple shuffled out.

Tino, on the other hand, was passive-aggressively ignoring Berwald as he helped Eduard to clean up the mess. This seemed a much better punishment tactic than the Norwegian's yelling, as Berwald's usually-stern face had taken on a glaze of intense guilt. Toris sighed, wishing the tactic worked so well for him and Fe-

"Good morning!" Feliks announced, plopping down at the long bench that flanked the breakfast table. "Oh my gosh, Yao totally got up on the wrong side of the bed today, right?" He flung an arm around Raivis, a harried-looking first-year who sat at their table.

"F-Feliks!" Raivis squeaked. "Arthur and Roderich are right there." He jerked his thumb at the bench where most of the student council congregated, most notably Yao's fellow floor prefects, who were in charge of the three dorm floors, making sure that things were quiet and clean and orderly. Quite a feat in an all-boy's school, despite its international renown.

"Pff, they're more focused on their oatmeal," laughed Feliks, ladling out some of the cereal for himself from the tureen. Raivis shook his head and hunched his shoulders.

Toris began helping Eduard and Tino wipe up the last of the spilled food.

"Thanks," said Tino, flashing him a warm smile. "I'm terribly sorry that a mess was made in the first place." Silently, Berwald shrank further into himself, his long frame exuding dejection.

"Umm, no, it's fine," Toris said hurriedly, flashing a sympathetic glance at Berwald. "And, ah, thanks for the tea, besides. I used some last night. It worked well."

Tino laughed happily. "Good, good. I can show you where to get more, when you run out."

"Or, rather, I can," interjected Eduard. "I found a wholesale herb supplier on the net."

"Yeah, but you weren't looking for valerian," Tino snorted in reply.

Toris and Berwald both raised incredulous eyebrows. Eduard immediately flushed.

"You make it seem like I'm on drugs! I was looking for catnip!"

At this, Tino started to cackle, and Feliks broke off torturing Raivis to giggle a little. Eduard flushed deeper. "It's a sleep aid! It helps me relax!" Tino and Feliks were both laughing so hard that they seemed about to fall over. Toris and Berwald exchanged glances, clearly communicating "I have no idea why I am dating him". Eduard looked like he wanted to die.

"Um…okay… well, its getting late and the bell is going to ring soon, so Feliks and I should probably get moving…" said Toris pointedly, standing and grabbing Feliks' arm.

"Ya, us too," mumbled Berwald. He hazarded a glance at the suffering Eduard. "S'rry."

Both couples were about to take their leave when a commotion began to echo from the student council table. It looked as if someone was attempting to stand on it.

" – get down, you wanker! When I said 'make an announcement', I meant over the P.A. – "

"Hey you guys!" The voice was akin to a female chipmunk – squeaky, with a healthy injection of swagger. Alfred F. Jones had clambered onto the student council's breakfast table and was shouting at the top of his (formidable) lungs. Arthur, student body president, was currently trying to drag him down. It wasn't working.

"Hey, hey! Your illustrious council members have an awesome surprise for y'all!"

Toris resisted the urge to bang his head into something hard. He had known Alfred since middle school. The boy had not matured a bit.

"Since Halloween is coming up and all, we're gonna celebrate! After all, it's pretty much the best holiday ever."

"S'not… Christmas is…" whispered Tino under his breath.

"We're gonna have…" Alfred paused for effect, and everyone stared at him expectantly. "A masquerade ball!"

There was an awkward silence.

"Um… with girls. Like, real girls. From across the river."

There was a smattering of applause at that, and a few hoots from one of the corners of the cafeteria. Feliks only snorted, flipping his hair and shooting a knowing eye-roll at Toris, who smiled back at him.

"'Kay, so… excitement? Clapping?" prompted Alfred, his self-assured stance on the table deflating just a bit. The threadbare exclamation strengthened a bit – Toris joined in the applause, feeling bad for Al. But the exuberant rugby player just grinned and allowed himself to be dragged away by the irate British boy who had been tugging on his blazer the whole time.

"Uh-oh, guys, it's almost eight fifteen," interrupted Eduard.

Toris glanced down at his watch, groaned, and grabbed Feliks by the back of his collar. "Algebra. Now. We're gonna be late."

They joined the hubbub of the halls, jostling against the solid mass of boys. Feliks grabbed at Toris' hand. "Don't get lost or whatever," he offered, and Toris felt himself blush again. Ducking flying elbows and raucous laughter, they slipped into Mr. Roma's math classroom.

Their teacher was not in the classroom yet, and knowing him, it could be another fifteen minutes before he showed up, despite class being scheduled to start… three minutes ago, actually.

The room wasn't quiet, but it wasn't chaotic, either. Most of the students were conversing in clusters. Feliks led Toris over to a desk in the front of the room, gesturing for him to sit on the chair while he himself perched on the edge of the desk.

"You know, this masquerade thing will probably be totally lame, but its, like, a really cool idea. And we're totally going."

Toris nodded absently, resigned. "Yeah, sure. I figured as much." He smiled a little. "Remember the masquerade in middle school? You and I were knights, and we had that cool chainmail that we made by hand with fishing wire?"

"Pff yeah, and then that stupid Weillschmidt kid came as the same thing but we totally kicked his butt in the costume contest."

Toris' smile grew wider, though dulled at the edges with the tension it had attracted as he walked in the classroom. "Do you want to try that again? We could make chainmail again and – "

"Nope," interrupted Feliks, "sorry, Liet, but I've got some plans."

"…plans?" That didn't sound good.

Feliks smiled in a way that was truly frightening, and boded disastrous for someone. Usually Toris.

"Sorry, hon, I can't tell you. I want it to be a surprise…that okay?"

Toris raised an eyebrow, a little spooked. "…okay?"

But Feliks was not looking at him. He had stiffened, sitting straight up and holding his clicky-pen like a weapon. For a moment, Toris was overwhelmed with an image of Feliks with feline ears and tail, back arched, claws extended.

But the fantasy did not last long. Toris' eyes widened and he felt his fingertips grow cold. His shoulders started to shake.

"Leave now before I scratch your face off," Feliks hissed without preamble.

There was a large, ash-blonde boy standing in front of him, twisting a scarf in his hands and staring at them with a nervous expression and an empty smile.

"Good morning, Feliks," he said politely. "Good morning, Toris."

Toris couldn't look up from his hands. "… good morning, Ivan," he nearly whispered. He didn't see Feliks' eyes flash in response to the greeting.

"Back the hell off, Ivan," Feliks spat out. He tried to get in the boy's face, but he was almost a foot too short for that so he just glared menacingly up at him.

"Feliks don't –" Toris said pleadingly, not moving.

"I am sorry," said Ivan, putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I will go. I just wanted to check on Toris, first. He seems tired."

"N-no. N-not tired, I'm fine," Toris murmured into the desk.

Another boy appeared at Ivan's side – Wang Yao, the floor prefect. His slight, feminine features were uncharacteristically soft. Feliks turned his glare from Ivan to Yao, then quickly back again. He looked as if he was about to start growling.

"I won't tolerate an altercation in here," Yao snapped without fire. "All three of you, sit down. Our teacher has arrived."

Sure enough, stumbling good-naturedly through the door was Mr. Romulus, seventeen-and-a-half minutes late.

"Hey, hey, math nerds," he laughed. "Actually, I've seen your grades. You guys definitely aren't math nerds." There was a concerted, customary groan of acknowledgement as students drifted towards their seats. Yao gave Ivan a sidelong glance of anticipation before he joined the throng.

"Well, see you," Ivan offered. He was reaching toward Toris, as if to clap him on the shoulder, but Feliks kicked him in the shins, hopping off the desk.

"Yeah, we'll see you," he said meaningfully.

Toris was directing panicky gasps at the desk. Ivan left to sit across the room.

As soon as he was sure Ivan was occupied elsewhere, Feliks spun to face Toris, grabbing his hands. "Liet," he murmured, leaning their foreheads together. "Liet, are you okay?" he began running his thumbs along Toris' shaking knuckles.

"No – yeah – I'm – I'm fine," nodded Toris, dislodging Feliks' forehead, "I- ah- I think I forgot to take my Zoloft this morning."

"Liet!" Feliks squawked in irritation. "You- "

"Mr. Lukasiewicz?" Mr. Romulus boomed. "Though I am certain your conversation is endlessly interesting, I nevertheless remind you that you're here to learn algebra."

"No, I'm here because this is school and I'm forced to be here," Feliks mumbled under his breath, squeezing Toris' hands one last time before flouncing to his own chair.

Toris bit his lip and retrieved a pencil and notebook from his schoolbag and began to mechanically copy the notes that Mr. Romulus inscribed on the board with swooping, cursive strokes.

lim uf(x+h) – f(x)/u

h→0 x -….

His hand trailed off and his gaze went blank. He couldn't concentrate. Prakeiktas, he really had forgotten to take his anxiety medication that morning; he was so caught up in the drama with inspection and the success of the valerian tea that actually kept him asleep that it completely slipped his mind and now this, now Ivan, standing there and looking sorry and heartbroken, it was just… w-was just…

He needed to talk to Feliks, but Feliks was across the row, doodling ponies or flying houses or something in his notebook. Toris needed something, anything, to keep him grounded and –

RING~!

The bell shrilled impersonally, jarring Toris so thoroughly that he ripped a hole in his notebook. He stared at it despondently, not comprehending.

"…Liet?" asked Feliks, waving a hand in front of his face. Toris looked up slowly, trying to focus. Feliks was frowning at him. "Like, that was the bell, so you're sorta gonna be late for history class? So, I suggest you leave, like, now." Toris blinked, moving slowly to put his books away. He realized, in a detached way, that they were the only ones left in the classroom.

"Liet. Liet!" Feliks grabbed his shoulders. "Seriously, you're scaring me. Do you want me to take you to the nurse's office?"

Toris shook his head. He was staring into the deepest, most clear green eyes, warm and familiar and keeping him sane through much worse than this.

Toris offered up a hesitant smile. "I'm fine. I'm fine, 'cuz you're here." He meant it to be a joke, but it came out far more sincere than he'd expected. Feliks stared at him, then blinked. Slowly, he grinned, kissing him quickly on the corner of his mouth. The blonde tasted of strawberry lipgloss and cinnamon breath mints.

Feliks blushed. "Come on, dork," he said good-naturedly. "Let's go."