Note: Weekly update as usual!

To reply to K: Layla is ragged on because it's her purpose in the story, nothing more ;)
If she was a nice girl, she wouldn't be easy to hate XD
And she needs to be a bitch, for something that will happen in later chapters ^^

Mello
Cutting the hedge around the outdoor basket playground? What the fuck is that shit of a task?
I didn't say a word when the security guy assigned us to the first of the nighmarish stuff we'd have to do in the next days as our punishement.
He dismissed us since classes were about to begin after what I believed would happen every day that we'd have to come and get our task assignment in his office: a loooong rant about how the work we'd do would greatly benefit the university and its equipment and how it was supposed to help us see that there are more important things in the world than fight, and that we would learn to be adult and bla bla bla...

I noticed, as I strode to the amphitheatre, that the redhead was following me like my shadow. It was kinda weird from him. First, he touched me on his own free will a little earlier, and now, he wasn't even putting distance between him and me like he used to do. Somehow, I understood it was his way to show he had something to say to me.
I stopped walking, wanting to face him to ask what this following was about, but I didn't have time to complete my turning around, he bumped into me, totally not looking in front of him as he was walking, his eyes glued to his toes.
I lost my balance, and fell backward. Even if I'd had the reflex to grip him not to fall, it was too late since it took me by surprise, and as our eyes crossed, I saw hesitation in his, but he didn't move, and I landed on my butt.
Second time I hurt my ass because of him dammit!
But he immediately held out his hand to me to help me get back on my feet, although I could tell he was uncomfortable.

I was about to throw some sarcasm at his face, but he looked at me in a way that kept the words stuck on the tip of my tongue. I stared back and discovered a whole mind battling inside of eyes I knew were beautiful, but that I had never seen under this light.
I could see how he was taking careful steps to understand something beyond his way of thinking, to figure things out although these things were things he disliked, and all the hesitation behind the acts, all the will to go forward with ideas that were sticking him in a static state of mind.
And the sarcasm tickling the tip of my tongue got scratched away by a simple thing he said suddenly:
"Sorry ma... Mihael."

He had almost called me man once again, and hearing him pronounce my real first name with his eyes looking straight at me made me understand all of a sudden what was that 'something more' I had wondered about that he got that girls were reduced to melted cackling chicks when he talked to them, and that took nothing more than five seconds to take effect.
I could almost have melted if I hadn't worried for my sanity at that point. Ok, he was all attitude and self confidence on purpose, and took great advantage of that to get girls, obviously, but the 'something more' was all natural, and it was what made him stand out, and awfully irresistible. It was something between a softness in his eyes and voice and the way his eyes lit with real genuine feelings, be they apologies right now or a simple sincere smile. Behind the cocky mask, I imagined a nice guy hiding.

He had to be, after all, I mean, who would take the time and effort to understand something they despised and try to make up for being a dork? And I knew I had to be a bit more open minded myself instead of shutting him off, because he was obviously willing to understand what made me the way I was although he hated it, because he had helped me on my feet after a second thought, although he had initially hesitated and let me fall, because he had not ran away but followed me. I guess you can't expect people to change if you don't let them.

It annoyed me, because I didn't want to mother him on his way to accepting (maybe, I could be wrong...) that gays are not something he should be disgusted by, or fear, or whatever. If he had a problem with that, he could as well make his way to opening his eyes alone, that was none of my concern. But I was afraid that I didn't really have a choice, since we would be spending some time together in the next days and that I couldn't avoid his possible questions and stuff. So I could as well answer his questions, that was not a really big price to pay, and it was probably better than an awkward silence I sensed coming when we'd be in presence of each other.

And I knew right at that moment that I shall never ever become his friend, or be close to him in any way, because it would be sealing myself in a hopeless greed for him. I was angry at myself for letting him get to me that way, but I couldn't do anything against it, no matter how much I tried to remember his cocky side I hated, all I could picture in my mind were his eyes.

Matt
My mind screamed in horror when I touched him so... fully. I mean, I bumped into him so hard that I felt his torso against mine, I even felt his rib bones and his muscles and shit, it was nothing I wanted. I was only getting used not to feel nausea being near him in a short distance, and then, this.
I saw him fall backward but I couldn't make the move that would have prevented him to land on the floor. I half thought he was sporty enough to get his balance back, and the other half of my brain paralysed me because of the unwanted contact.
But I immediately felt bad for just letting him like this without a helping hand and although I didn't want that contact, I held out my hand to him. His hand seemed so thin in mine, but the grip so strong as he pulled to get back on his feet that I got struck by the contradiction. It wasn't the first time though, because all in him was contradiction.
The fact he was obviously trained to combat and probably able to rip anyone in two, although he looked so thin and almost girly (did I say almost?), the fact he looked so badass but was a queer...

I wouldn't admit it, but I was feeling something in me that I was trying to will away: I wanted to know more about him. He was starting to stir some interest in me as a... person.

Yes, that was it. He was slowly losing the aspect that made me stop cold in his presence, to become human, somehow.
Using his real name hadn't even been strange, I don't know, maybe all my conception of gays was moulded in ignorance and 'what-they-say', maybe the only example I'd had until now was not the norm.
I was still disgusted to touch him, and still not really willing to stay too long with him not to be assimilated to someone gay, but he, as a human being, seemed interesting.

I remember that gay couple that lived next door when I was ten. They were loud at night, they were blatantly kissing with tongues and saliva and groping in the stairs dirtily, on the doorstep, outside and everywhere, cheating on each other (or what I thought at first) by bringing home and being loud with other guys, and then I noticed that sometimes, more and more often, they were three or four being loud on the other side of the wall, and they would often fuck at night in the apartment complex parking lot, until one of them died after I saw him deperish other the years, from AIDS.
To me, gays were animals driven by sex. Disgusting sex. And full of diseases. Period.

We'd probably never end up friends because I didn't want a gay friend, I didn't want people to think I was if I ever hung out with him, and...
And why was he looking at me this way?
His eyes, that were terrible if you ask, so clear, so cold, so giving you the impression they were stripping you to the core, softened all of a sudden, diving straight into mine like if he was watching a movie play, with so much attention it made me nervous.
I understood right away (for once) that he could see through me. I usually wear my goggles and realised I wasn't at that precise moment. He was taking me off guard and I wasn't used to be looked at like this. Girls don't look at me straight in the eyes like this. They bat their eyelashes, giggle while they look away shyly, or look at me in awe (I'm that awesome), but they don't scrutinize me.
Only my mother does that, actually. She looks straight at me and guesses everything.

But the softness didn't bide well, I thought. Because first, it didn't suit him. And second, I knew the effect my eyes had on girls, and since he was gay... it could as well be the same, and I didn't, really didn't, want that.
I had to say something to cut it off. Anything.
"I'm sorry you hurt your ass once again because of me..."
Not that. Fuck.
He smirked, and I should have known better.
"Next time I hope it'll be yours, I usually don't take bottom."
Aaaack! I didn't want to know that detail dammit!
My eyes went wide and he chuckled, turning around and heading for the amphitheatre.
Ok, that was just a joke, breathe in, breathe out.

We entered the amphitheatre and as he took a seat at one of the highest rows, I followed and sat beside him.
I thought it would be rude to split ways and sit at another row, he would probably think I was ashamed to be with him and would get mad at me, and since we had to go cut the hedge of the basket playground later, it would do no good.
I was ashamed, but not as much as I thought I'd be. Some part of me was inwardly telling people to fuck off if they had a problem with that. My mom would be proud of me, heh.

You could wonder why I had ended up so homophobic when none of my parents, and certainly not my mother, were. My mother was the kind to accept everyone and everything as they were, even housing all the stray cats of the neighbourhood no matter how weird they looked, with three paws or a cut tail, a missing ear or inviting homeless people in the apartment to give them a proper meal. She had a big heart like that.

Mihael looked at me with a slightly questioning look but stared back at his notes a second later. It didn't occur to me that he probably didn't want me here, and as the class began, I didn't have time to think more of it.
I stretched my legs in front of me, crossing them at ankle level, crossed my arms too, making myself as comfortable as possible against the hard wood of the seat as I leant back a bit, and listened.

Mello
I was quite irritated by the fact he had sat next to me. Did he think we had to stick together all day long because we had something that required both our presence after class?
Ok, I shouldn't get so mad, after all, it was better than see him put distance between us, which would have made me even more mad.
As the class began, though, my irritation grew as he obviously didn't give a fuck about the lesson, since he just sat there legs stretched and not taking a single note. I noticed he didn't have anything with him for classes, actually. What the fuck? I could only guess a cigarette pack and a lighter in his left pocket, and what was probably keys in the other, nothing more except the wallet in his rear pocket (and no, I was not checking him out discreetly, and not that particular area).

He sat beside me even in the next class, but still he didn't take a single note. I really wonder why he bothered sitting here if he didn't give a fuck about the lesson. He could as well stay home. But for some reason, he had seemed really worried to be kicked out when he thanked me for not spitting the truth out in the security booth. Well, whatever.

He did go another way at lunch time though. I followed him with my eyes, but he disappeared at a corner. I had brought my own lunch since I didn't feel like putting my feet in the cafeteria anymore: healthy sandwiches, water and chocolate. I sat under what I decided would be my usual tree and ate, gazing at the people around as they passed by.
I was done with my sandwiches and attacking my chocolate when a sight that made me want to tear my own eyeballs from their orbits with a spoon appeared.

The redhead was walking nonchalantly with an arm around a brunette's shoulders. A brunette that wasn't Layla. Actually, I recognized her as Layla's friend from the day before. I felt a slight pinch in my chest. The guy was moving fast. They were heading for the parking lot and disappeared as fast as they had come.

Half an hour later, I was out of water and thirsty, so I opted for the cafeteria to buy a bottle despite my resolutions of not coming there anymore, because the nearest drinks vending machine was way farther on the campus. I crossed the parking lot separating the grass area from the cafeteria, and spotted the red Camaro as I walked by.
It was moving. Not moving like driving, but moving like up and down slightly. I didn't need to see anything to know what they were doing in here, but this time it really made me angry.

He was a slut. He was fucking a girl. He was fucking someone that wasn't me. He was doing it just like this in the middle of the parking lot. All of this put me in a rage I couldn't, but would have to control. Because I knew it would happen often, and there was nothing I could do against it.

I bought my bottle of water, and consciously took the way that would make me climb up the grass behind the parking, not too far from the red Chevrolet. For some reason, I couldn't help but torture myself by wanting to see.
I couldn't see really well at first, I wasn't that close, and didn't want them to see me. But as they shifted, I saw her, forehead against one of the windows on the backseat of the car, bent forward, and him taking her from behind. I even saw the beginning of his butt as his pants were slightly falling lower than his waist. In any other situation, I would have gotten a boner, but the fact he was doing that with a girl didn't make it at all. I wasn't even one percent bisexual, I liked dicks, and dicks only, and heterosexual sex wasn't something that turned me on. It could, sometimes, depending on the situation, like the first time I had seen the redhead with Layla in this same car, because he was hot, but now it was different. It hurt.