Authors Note: I finished it 3 I started branching out. I am now at the Yu Yu Hakusho section, so if you guys are interested, I have two fanfictions "Nightmarish Waltz" and "You Would Kill For This." Check them out D

Chapter Ten

Cloud Strife Popular?

When I returned to school, I decided I should dedicate myself to becoming a better person. A more "popular person" if you will. I wanted to have friends. I wanted to leave my years as a whiny teenager, who dressed in black and glared at anything resembling the color pink, behind. I wasn't a bad guy. I maybe a little immature, pessimistic, and don't exactly know when to stop complaining, but I could be fun! Maybe…possibly. I mean, I liked going out to parties….sometimes. The times I have gone were fun…in some ways. Drinking is cool….when I haven't woken up covered in my own vomit.

Okay, so I guess I don't do "fun college guy" well. But that didn't mean I had to be a hermit and lock myself in my dorm room for the entire four years. I swore I was going to actually join the school's newspaper. Swore! And I passed it two times already, and even went in! Granted it was just to ask where the bathroom was, but it was an effort! People in my dorm were even starting to warm up to be a little….kind of. I mean, some of the girls were still weird out by the fact that I never did talk and apparently use really big words like "you."

Fine, fine, I was a college social failure. I felt like I was the only intelligent person amongst the colony of lemmings, and couldn't fit in even if I proclaimed myself the biggest football fan and drank beer until my blood became beer. In my own head, I criticize everyone and everything, from the teachers to the town to the fact that it snowed so fucking much. I wasn't happy. I didn't know if it was because I somehow missed Staten Island and all its filthy glory, or if I missed my boyfriend too much. My English teacher would say I was just a bigheaded narcissist, and like all writers would probably blow my head off in ten years…

I got a feeling he really liked me.

Reno didn't seem to mind that I was a social outcast; it just gave him the security he needed. Who the hell was going to ask me out? I was the creepy gay guy remember? Not even the gay kids wanted anything to do with me. No, seriously, they ran away when they saw me. No joke. They kicked me out at the Gay/Straight Alliance meeting! Granted I called the girl who was leading it a self-centered dyke with her head so far up her ass it was illegal in most states- but she totally started that rumble!

Anyway, Reno wasn't worried. But I was. I was putting all my faith in him again- foolishly allowing myself to be trapped in his beautifully constructed web. He would whisper sweet nothings to me on the phone; telling me how I shouldn't worry…because I always had him. I always had him. It was funny because of how untrue it was. A mere four months before, we hated each other. Two years before, he broke my heart in the worst way. I guess that was just the curse of being so in love you forget to breathe. You forget all those silly imperfections, those little break ups, the fights that left you bleeding and crying. I even forgot the fact he technically cheated on me. Either that, or I really just didn't care. Maybe I just wanted to delude myself into thinking this was forever.

When I wasn't brooding in my room- cause my roommate was too busy fucking his girlfriend- complaining to Reno, or in class, I was in the main lounge area doing homework or writing a story. I was just doing that one Friday, sitting at a table in the corner, writing some little story about a boy trapped in a boarding school, alone. The table could fit at least three other people, but the rest of the dorm all frolic towards one table, where some kid was convinced he could drink twenty-one beers in one sitting and not die of alcohol poisoning. I didn't quite mind the noise of the wound up animals, and just relaxed in my "happy place" allowing the words to flow from my brain, to my paper, without a hitch.

That is…until someone who smelled strongly of strawberries took a seat in front of me. I looked up slightly, to see him pull out a book and begin reading without acknowledging me. I tried to be very "natural" but curiosity got the better of me, and I brought my eyes to lay on him. I almost choked at the site of the man in front of me…

He was absolutely-fucking gorgeous, I almost came right there…

Okay, that's gross, sorry.

He was a pretty boy, model pretty, with spiky brown hair and muddy hazel eyes that seemed to change colors by the minute. He had a strong face, tight pink lips , and muscles that poked out of the Armani Exchange shirt that seemed a size too small- not that I was complaining. He wore a crucifix around his neck- and I swore Jesus was giving me the glare of death- and seemed stiff in his demeanor. He sat up straight, eyes frozen on the text book, a frown on his mouth.

I scrunched my face though; I wasn't into model hot. Nah, I liked grungy skinny boys with red hair and cursed a lot. This guy looked like he had something shoved up his ass so far, it was tickling his ribcage or something. No denying he was hot though.

We sat alone, and in complete silence, not bothering to offer each other even a glance. The only sounds were from my pen against paper, his page flipping, and the roar from the unruly students only a few inches away from us. I was oddly at peace, when something, once again, disturbed me.

This something, was a someone, with a ridiculous high-pitched voice, and a skirt so short she put Britney Spears to shame. She sat on the table, flipping her skirt up so I got a brief look at her unclothed ass, and began ferociously flirting with the boy in front of me. He seemed to ignore her advances, even when she played with his hair, and touched his broad shoulders. She was squeaky and uninteresting- talking about how she got so drunk at a party, she may have had sex with her best friend, Cynthia. I attempted to ignore her…

"Why are you sitting with him," she spat out aggressively. I looked up to see her glaring at me with her brown eyes; who pissed in her cheerios!?

"Who is he?" Model boy raised an eyebrow, and threw me a sympathetic look.

But before she could answer, I interjected, "Hi! I'm the creepy gay guy who sits in the corner and writes about butt sex!" I returned her glare, adding a small smirk, which she scoffed at.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes and walked back to her cluster of drunken friends.

They were all looking at me, slightly snickering, as if they accomplished something by acting like a bunch of high schoolers. Yeah, that's right, fucking high schoolers. I thought I would be through with the stupid rumors and cruel jokes the moment I graduated, but I seemed to have fallen into a horrible trap. College is just one big fucking day care for the drunk and disorderly. At least this college was. I huffed loudly at the crowd, who shed their smirks and returned to their task of filling beer glasses, and mimicked the annoying chick's eye roll. I returned to staring at the white loose-leaf paper, filled with lines and lines of words that suddenly made no sense to me- as if they had been written in a different language entirely.

"You must be popular," model boy said suddenly.

I lifted my eyes, "Clearly."

He smirked, "Does creepy gay guy have a name?"

I was caught off guard instantly. No one had ever bothered to ask my name, except for my roommate and teachers, so excuse me if I seemed to have magically forgot who the fuck I was. I stuttered, trying to remember that stupid name my psychopathic mother blessed with upon my birth, coming up with nothing.

But model boy only laughed cutely at me, "Forget?"

"No!" I shook my head, "It's Cloud….Cloud Strife. You?"

"Seymour Guado." He flashed me a prize-winning smile, "So, problems fitting in?"

"Oh yes, very," I scoffed, "I swear it feels like high school in this place."

"I hear ya; I went to high school with most of these failures- same shit, different location."

"Bummer. So I take it you're from around here?" Frankly, I could tell that just from his accent. He had a slightly more sophisticated version of a southern accent which ran-rampant through this area of New York.

"Yeah, and you're from downstate I gather?"

I scrunched my nose, "New York City."

"Staten Island, more like it."

Fuck me, he could pick out which stupid borough I came from just from listening to my horrid bastardization of the English language- The Staten Island Accent. It was nothing more than the love child of New Jersey and Brooklyn accents, spoken with a high-pitched flare, and with words like "God" replaced with "gawd" and "talk" replaced with "tawlk." I had attempted to conceal which borough I hailed from since I entered the school; no one quite respects Staten Island and rightfully so! Most don't even know we exist! We are a "bridge" between Brooklyn. A dump. A pool of fucking orange people. Yes. Orange people. Oopa-fucking-loopas. Granted, we aren't as bad as Jersey. Then again, not many states are.

Okay, totally got off track.

"You hate where you are from?" he laughed gently- and I guessed I had allow a disgusted look to past my face.

"Yeah….I guess you can say that. Do you like this place?"

He shrugged, "It's okay. I'm used to it. I would like to see the world though- travel. I want to transfer to a school in England, maybe. Australia would be even better."

"You just….want to get out."

"Don't you?"

A yes was begging against my lips, but for some reason, I kept them tightly closed; looking at Seymour with some kind of disturbed look on my face, that he seemed to understand. He was right. I wanted to get out, from everything, but I wasn't going to admit it again. If I really had wanted to make the escape I promised when I choose colleges, I would have run all the way to Canada. Maybe even further. But I chose being safe over being free. Now I was a caged bird, with clipped wings, and no more desire.

"I see," he smirked, "that will change."

I was about to argue, but he arose from his seat and flashed a full, genuine smile. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe you will…" I said blankly.

"Oh? Maybe I'll ask you out?"

"Maybe I'll say no. Maybe."

"Maybe you won't," he winked, and walked away, leaving me completely dumbstruck.

Did he just ask me out?

I shuddered when the image of Reno popped in my head looking completely pissed off and jealous. I tried to ignore it- pushed it in the back of mind along with the rest of his flaws. I tried to ignore Seymour, mister model, pushed him away completely. Or tried. No one had ever showed interest in me, no one. Not for a while. I started to wonder if this was the whole reason I left- to find something better. No, no one was better than Reno. Maybe someone….different. Model boy was different. Different in a good way- too good. I would have to avoid him for the rest of my life.

Not that I didn't trust myself. I didn't want it to be rubbed in my face.

I also decided to try to avoid telling Reno what had happened; to at least save me the heartache. But when he called later on that night, he could tell from the slightly distracted sound of my voice, there someone else was occupying my mind. I could feel the venom drip through the phone when he asked, "Who are you thinking about?" With such accusation, you would think I had already committed the sin.

"No one, baby," I said calmly.

I was in my dorm by now, and my roommate was studying for a final on his bed- his headphones plugged in his ear so he could successfully ignore me. I lay down on my own bed, staring at the ceiling as Reno continued to ask what had me so distracted- as if it was a fucking crime.

"Nothing, baby."

"It is something!"

"Nothing."

There was a crack in the ceiling.

"Is it a boy?"

"It's nothing, can you drop it?"

He huffed like a child, "Why are you so distracted tonight, Cloud?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing!"

"Why won't you tell me!?"

The crack was long, faded, but dark enough to put a stain on the pure white room.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Well then what did you do today? And don't say nothing."

"Talked to some guy-" I slapped myself on the forehead.

"You what!? Was he gay? Did you like him? Was he hotter than me?" Translation: Did you fuck him you son of a bitch!

"No! Jesus, we just talked, am I not allowed to talk to guys anymore? Stop acting like you own me, Sinclair."

"Fine! Then I am going to go do 'nothing'! Bye!" I was met with the sound of silence.

I looked at the phone as if the boy at the other end had not my boyfriend at all, but a PMSing woman. My roommate snickered at my plight, I just continued to stare at my phone- at the picture of Reno and I that was my background. But there was nothing else to do- or say- he was pissed and best to leave him alone- right? I threw the phone down on my bed- my roommate laughed a little louder. I ignored him. I stared at the crack in the ceiling…it was darker now.