Note: Oh my! I'm back! You didn't expect me here anymore, did you? Like I promised, my stories will be finished someday, and I always keep my promises. But this one's far from being finished! Onto chapter 19!
Oh, just before I stop babbling in this author note, I'd like to thank all the wonderful people that sent me messages, asking when I would update, worrying that I'd never update anymore, or simply encouraging me or sending me kind words. I can't reply to you all personnally because I got something like 50+ private messages, but I love you all, dear readers!
I hope you enjoy this chapter! Next one will not wait 6 months before being posted, it will come next week end, so very soon! I'm back for good, don't worry! Other stories will be updated too, although I can't tell you when!

Mello
As I left the parking lot, leaving Mail in his car behind me, I tried to keep walking like I was used to, but my whole body seemed to stiffen against my will, my usual catwalk being hard to sustain. Truth was, my heart was beating faster, and I was confused. I had never confessed anyone my feelings like I just had done with Mail. And while I was telling him that I was in love with him, it suddenly came to my mind how bitter the situation was: I was in love with someone that would probably never feel the same. I was aware, although lying to me was easier, that Mail wasn't gay, and that my hopes were, well, hopeless...
It had been a game until now, but I just had come to realise that I couldn't fuck this up, that losing the chance to be in his presence, at least as a friend, wasn't an option. I had to show him I was not a sick pervert, and I would have to do what I had fought against all my life, or at least since I had discovered I was gay: showing my feelings, and who I really was. I knew it wouldn't be difficult, I had almost cried while he was shouting at me in his car, he had that ability to turn me into mush, but still, I wasn't used to, and I was afraid, because it wasn't normal, people never had that effect on me, usually. I wasn't someone easily influenced or impressed.
It's not that I was lying about myself, I really was stubborn, mocking, very self assured, but I was leaving the rest hidden deep under my leather, a dead skin to hide my real skin, if you like metaphors...

Because I had been in love once, now realising it was just a crush, but still, at that time, it looked important to me, this relationship. Probably because it was my first serious date, not just a good fuck in the backseat of a car or a teenage date. The guy was 24 and I was 17, he was mature compared to my previous boyfriends, and we dated publicly, so I felt free, I felt myself for the first time, which probably added to the importance I gave to this relationship.
We were together for five months when Valentine's day arrived, and at that moment he was gone for a week on a construction site for his work so I sent him a card, telling him sweet nothings although I had avoided the L word. Something along the lines of "I miss you, I want to be with you, come back so we can be together (forever?)"
My cell had rang the next morning and I was excited to see it was him, he probably just had my card and was calling to tell me he missed me too.
The shower was ice cold.
I took the call and I barely had time to great him before he spoke: "Mello, what's that shi... what is that card for? Don't start with that..."
I was shocked, but I kept on telling myself I had misunderstood him, but no matter what I said, he just kept on telling me I shouldn't have sent such a card, to stop with this. Stop with this...
But I didn't have time, because he stopped with this, this relationship I mean. He dumped me when he came back, after a talk in a cafe. Telling me how disappointing I had been, not sticking to his standards (he liked guys with short hair, very muscled, he had kept on telling me but I never thought he actually meant that I had to cut my hair and practise body building, something I'd never have done anyway), that he had given me time but I hadn't changed (so much for thinking you should accept people like they are), putting all the guilt of the failure of this relationship on my back.
It had hurt like a bitch, although I'm just mad at myself with time, because I should have told him to fuck off on the phone, long before he ended dumping me in that cafe. I had been stupid to hope things would be ok once he was back from his construction site.

And so, no matter how scared I was, I knew that winning Mail as a friend meant to open myself up. But what scared me the most was that I probably had forgotten how to, after years of caving in. I've always had the possibility to express frustration or angriness through sports, sambo being a great relief to that kind of emotions, but anything positive had been locked away for so long that I had no clue where the key was.

Mail, what you're making of me...
And all that with no hope of getting you as my boyfriend...

Strangely, it didn't feel like a waste of time though. It was still kind of a game, which would keep me entertained for quite some time, I hoped, but most of all, I needed him as a friend, if that was all I could have.
Needed? Did I really think that? Fuck.

The next day, I saw Mail exit the parking lot where he had just left his Camaro, a few minutes before class. I was coming from the opposite direction, but when he spotted me, he waited for me. I probably looked as surprised as I really was, because once I reached his level, he chuckled: "You'd run after me if I didn't wait, right?"
"Right." was all I could reply, regretting it immediately. NO I wasn't running after you like a sick puppy, you bastard!
He lit a cigarette and resumed walking.
"This is gonna kill you, plus you taste like an ashtray." I stated blankly, pointing at the butt he threw on the floor a few minutes later before we entered the amphitheatre.
"Aw, would it mean I have a chance that you'll never try to kiss me anymore?" he smirked, while I was stirring my addiction from my pocket.
"Keep dreaming, I'd cover the taste with my own quickly." I winked at him, snapping a chunk of my chocolate bar.
"Now that you say it... I should have known it was you... the taste of chocolate was strong." he muttered, walking behind me. He didn't seem shocked or worried or anything, did he get over what happened? He was talking about it so freely...
Mail nudged me and I realised I had stopped in the middle of the way, my mind wandering to the way it had felt to kiss him, and we took seats just as the class began. But I couldn't care less, I was still kissing him in my head.

Matt
I know what he was thinking about, sat beside me while the teacher was beginning to note events and dates on the blackboard, and it was nothing related to ancient Rome, believe me. And I really didn't want him to think of me that way, but I guess that since I couldn't even control the way he acted with me, there was no hope to control his thoughts. As long as he didn't utter them loud and clear, I guess it was fine, although the look in his absent eyes gave me shivers. It was a mix of lust and something else that I didn't want to be love. But I knew it was.
The funnier being that even if he had been a girl, it would have sent shivers through my spine. Real serious feelings of love, from anyone, a gay guy or a girl, were a big no no. No engagement, thanks.

The class was long and boring, although I registered everything, so I was happy when it finally ended. My stomach growled, reminding me that it was lunch time.
"Do you have classes this afternoon?" Mihael asked me as we headed outside.
"Nope." The question was a bit stupid since none of us had finally switched classes, so we still had the same classes most of the time, except on mondays and thursdays mornings. Since it was friday, he should've known it was the week end for me, just like for him.
"Up for lunch in town?" he gave me the most hopeful look I've ever seen. Trick or not, I was hungry and willing to avoid the cafeteria's food so I nodded: "You want to go somewhere in particular?"
Mihael smiled in a way that made me expect the worst. He hoped in my car as I opened the passenger's door from the inside, and we drove away, while he gave me directions from time to time.

I quickly understood where he was leading me: the new cafe where he... well, where things I didn't want to happen had happened a few days ago. I looked at him, probably looking angry.
"It's not what you think, I'd just like you to associate that place to something nice instead of... you know what."
Fair enough, I guess. And somehow, I thought it was a good idea, and a nice attention from him.

A few minutes later, I was satisfying my empty stomach with a burger, french fries and a huge strawberry milkshake while Mihael ate a Caesar salad with a diet coke.
"Damn, are you on a diet or something?" I asked him. It was typically girly to be on a diet, to me, and I suddenly wondered if gay guys were the same.
"Kinda... I counterbalance the chocolate." Mihael replied, sighing.
"Why don't you just give up the chocolate, so you could eat more than a salad?"
"I love chocolate, I couldn't live without."
"I pity you... look, those fries are so tasty, you don't know what you're missing." I teased him, passing one under his nose, "Taste it, it won't kill you!"
"No, thanks. I don't want to be fat again."
"Again? You mean you've been fat before? I can't believe you, you're so thin!"
"I do what it takes to stay like I am but yes, I've been fat."

He then told me a bit of his past, when he was overweight as a teenager, and although it was really hard to imagine him with extra weight, I admired his determination.

"I'm lucky I can eat anything I want, I guess..." I stated.
"Yes... sometimes I crave food I can't eat, that's depressing."
"Just one won't kill you Mihael." I teased him again, "Go ahead, I'm full, I can't finish them anyway".
He seemed to hesitate in front of his empty plate, and finally picked a fry in mine. He ate it slowly, obviously appreciating it.
We chatted about everything and anything for a good hour, and I didn't say anything to him, not wanting to stop him since he seemed delighted, but Mihael finished all the fries in my plate one by one.
It's only after a while that he realised it and he looked utterly pissed off.

Mello
"Mail! Why haven't you stopped me!" I glared at him, "Damn you for tempting me, I didn't even realise I ate them all!"
Fuck, I was so absorbed by his presence that I finished his plate without even noticing I was.
But it tasted so good! Oh well, Mail was right, it wouldn't kill me, it wasn't like I ate like this everyday.

The problem was that we ended up eating in what became our usual place to hang out at very often the next days since Mail liked the old games in there, and he didn't seem to mind spending time with me. Quickly, at the end of the next week, I could already feel uneasy in my leather. I could only blame myself for picking in Mail's fries since he never finished them, but I blamed him nonetheless.
I even made him stop at a drugstore to weight myself one afternoon, and the verdict fell: I had gained 3 pounds.

"Just stop eating chocolate for a while." Mail told me, rolling his eyes.
"I can't." I pouted. No, really, I could never cut on chocolate, "That's your fault! Why can't you, I don't know, finish your plate or eat something else? You're always tempting me!"
"Hey, I thought you had determination, but you're as weak as a bear with a honeypot!"
"I. Am. Not. Weak." I glared at him once more. How dare he?

That evening, I didn't pick in his plate, and he ate a salad. And if I appreciated that he took upon himself not to tempt me that night at the cafe (I knew he was still hungry after the salad, but he didn't order any of his usual greasy or sugary food), I was totally stunned by what he did the next day...