Note: I know, I know, I didn't update when I said I would... I work 52 hours/week, just so you know what prevented me from updating... Anyway, here's another chapter, and I shall have real week ends at least for 3 weeks so you can expect me to update every week end for these 3 weeks :) And I'm looking for another job with less hours and a boss that's not a dick, I'm considering becoming a pornstar, pays well... just kidding!

Mello
I had slept very badly that night, my stomach feeling heavy and my... hum... transit being a little disturbed with the change of my eating habits of these last days. I wasn't sick, but it wasn't far from it, with all the grease I wasn't used to absorb that was slowly invading the body I had kept away from it for years. Blurg. Just thinking of food made me feel like I would vomit. Which was probably good since it would prevent me from eating and I would be able to fit in my leather pants comfortably again soon. No way I bought new ones a size bigger, I didn't want to look like a pneumatic.

I finally stood up, unable to close an eye, around 8am, although it was saturday, and I made myself some coffee, thinking it would help my sick stomach, planning to go to the sport complex later.
As I was slowly sipping from my cup, someone knocked on my door. I grabbed some sweat pants on my way to open it, that quickly landed on the nearby sofa as I recognised Mail through the peephole. I first thought it was the postman or maybe the landlord, but I didn't need to cover myself for him.

Mail didn't agree with that statement and made that strange screetching sound when his eyes met the sight of my naked self, and I thought he was really unaware of the chance he had to see my ass. Many would love to see it, you know...
Ok, maybe I was a little less attractive with the tiny belly that was starting to grow but... hell, who am I kidding? I was still totally hot, no matter what.

"Can you...hum... get dressed?" Mail mumbled, averting his eyes and finding something very attractive to look at by the window all of a sudden. I chuckled, not ready to obey, and walked nonchalantly to the kitchen to grab my coffee cup.
"Want some?" I asked him, turning around to look at him still focused on the imaginary attraction.
His head shot in my direction, his eyes wider than they previously were. A "Huh?" came out of his mouth, which stayed slightly open, and I inwardly laughed as his eyes trailed down on their own accord until they reached my navel and up again, before they set on the one thing Mail didn't want to see, obviously.
"Coffee. Want some?" I repeated, perfectly aware of how it had sounded to him the first time (which was highly amusing to me, of course). And I'd gladly give it to him. Not the coffee, I mean.
"Yeah, please..." he sighed, relieved.
I was a human sexual innuendo for him, and it would probably be a constant battle between me and myself not to be one, because I liked to fuck around like this, but it wouldn't serve me well in my situation, since I needed to comfort Mail in the idea that I wasn't a pervert and that I could be someone nice enough for him to want to hang around with me (and more...).
Why do people, me included, get so mushy and confused once in love?

I picked up another cup and handed it to him once full. That's when I noticed he wasn't dressed as usual, but wearing sport pants and running shoes. He noticed my surprise and explained, taking the cup from my hands.
"That's partly my fault if you gained weight, and I probably will benefit of some exercise, so I came to pick you up to go to the sport complex, since you said you'd go today."
I melted. But didn't show. Exactly what makes me fall for him. This guy can be a dick with girls, but I'm pretty sure that once he gets settled, he'll make someone the happiest person in the world. Me, preferably.

I finished my coffee, cleaned myself quickly in the bathroom and, still naked (and Mail still desperately finding interesting spots to look at on my walls), I gathered some sport clothes in a bag, got dressed, and we left.
The drive was silent although not uncomfortable, the music loud enough for the inexistent verbal exchange not to seem awkward.

We entered the locker room, and I changed from my jeans and black tee for moulding black shorts and another one of my black tees without entering a booth, in front of a locker.
"Mihael, do you have a thing with exhibitionism?" Mail asked me, rolling his eyes.
"There's no one in here." I stated blankly. That was true, we were alone, it wasn't like anyone would see me, and I didn't give a fuck anyway.
"There's me, in case you haven't noticed." Mail replied, annoyed.
"Come on, it's not the first time you see me without clothes, and you should use some of the sight while you can, I'm far from being repulsive." I winked at him. I really can't refrain it, can I?
"And you're also very far from being modest." he turned around and started walking in direction of the running lane, "Plus it's not like I've wanted to see you naked, each time it happened."
"Are you saying I'm not attractive?" I couldn't stop myself, although I knew I had to. It was just too funny, but I had to be careful not to push him too far.
"Do you really expect me to reply to that?" Mail turned around again to face me, stopping in his tracks. That's when I knew I had reached the limit I shouldn't cross.
"Sorry. I'm stopping now." I was sincere.
"'Kay." Mail smiled, and that strange feeling of warmth filled my chest.

Matt
He was just having fun and I knew it, it was part of his personality to act like he could never be serious and like if everything called a sexual joke.
Actually, I was beginning to like those pseudo conversations where he couldn't help but tease me, and I would look indignated. Yes, "would look", not "would be". Because I wasn't anymore. I knew he was making efforts, and that he probably wouldn't totally erase that trait because it was part of him. But the fact he tried was much more than I had expected at first. And when he stopped by himself for once, I don't know, it was... weird. Like I had some effect on him, and I didn't know what to do with that.
It wrung my heart in a way I would never have expected, because he was doing his best to be nice to me, because he was in love with me, and I couldn't give him something back, something he wanted from me I mean. I could be his friend, I guess we were on our way to be friends, right? We could hang out together, and have fun, but that was all I could give him, and even if I didn't like him that way, I wasn't extremely happy about his situation.

We began to run along the lane and I could tell he was slowing down his pace to stay at my level. Damn cigarettes, my smoker lungs didn't agree with the way I was demanding air right now, and exercising my body revealed to be much more difficult than I thought it would be. I held on, though, not wanting to look too lame. I was already slower than Mihael, so stopping wasn't an option.
I concentrated on my inner thoughts to forget the pain that breathing was causing me while we ran side by side, Mihael at my right.

A loud name calling stirred me out of my reverie.
"Hey fags, move out of the way!" A tall mediterranean looking guy ran past Mihael, slightly pushing him in the process although the lane was large enough for probably ten runners. His shoulder bumped into mine and Mihael stopped for a few seconds, looking at the guy distancing us. He looked at me with a smirk and we resumed running as slowly as we were a few seconds before.

"Why that smirk?" I asked him, intrigued. I'd rather have expected him to beat the guy or something, but Mihael was totally calm, "He calls you a fag and you don't react?"
"He said fags, with an 's'." Mihael was obviously enjoying this considering his smirk turned to a grin.
I looked at the guy in the distance, then at Mihael again, whose grin seemed to grow wider every second.
"HEY! I'm not!" I stopped in my tracks.
"To my dismay..." Mihael replied, still very content with the situation, "Hey, it's no big deal, happens all the time, no need to get so worked up."

I stared at his back as he started running again, before following, quite disturbed.
Would everyone think I was gay if I hung out with Mihael?
But it suddenly appeared to me that this question was not important to reply to. Did I have to choose my friends according to what people would think of me in their presence? I've been rejected a lot when younger at kindergarten because no one wanted to befriend the redhead that brought bad luck, so that would be pretty mean-minded to hold Mihael responsible for the stupidity of the italian guy.
Plus, I realised that Mihael had probably faced such name callings on a day to day basis, and that it was quite egoistical from me to think of my own person when he was coping with unfair discrimination.

Unfair. I was surprised at how stupid I had been myself over the previous weeks. It doesn't take a genius to see that being gay isn't a disease, isn't dirty or whatever I thought it was. I was quite smart myself, and even if I had been sort of traumatized by the gay neighbours we had once, my parents and me, I was feeling really bad at the moment, for letting myself dwell on homophobic thoughts like I had done since I had met Mihael.
I had been scared of him when actually, he was the one who may have been scared. Ok, it was just an image, Mihael was able to defend himself, but I could relate to anti gay crimes and how traumatizing it could be to be gay and be rejected or even beaten for that. Or worse, killed...
I had been a real bastard, hadn't I?
I had deserved every punch he had given me that day. If gays could be beaten for loving other men, then I could as well be beaten for thinking it was wrong.

"Mail? Are you done?" Mihael tapped my shoulder. I hadn't realised that I had stopped in the middle of the lane.
"I'm sorry Mihael. For acting like a dick, for setting you off, for being so narrow minded. I'm sorry."
He looked at me puzzled, but his fast as lightning speed mind quickly caught up with my own, processing my train of thoughts and where it came from.
"Better late than never." And he smiled at me genuinely, and I wasn't able to help my mind thinking that he should smile like that more often. He was sporting smirks more often than that kind of smile.

The italian guy had made a complete circle and was heading our way again. He was clearly provocating us since the lane was large and his direction would obviously make him run into us. Mihael saw that too and his stance changed, imperceptibly, but enough for me to know he wasn't taking the thing as lightly as the first time.
The guy was close.
Closer.
BAM!

It happened so fast that I thought I had imagined things, but the guy laying on his back at Mihael's feet, air knocked out of his lungs both by the shock of Mihael sending him full force to the floor, his left arm hitting across the guy's chest with a loud thud, and by the harsh contact of his back with the ground, proved otherwise. It had been swift, simple and effective. And I was in awe in front of Mihael.
Hum, not in that way, of course. It was just that he looked so thin, and he was not much taller than me (and I was short, as much as I dislike it). And yet the guy, that was much taller and larger, had just been thrown to the floor like a puppet, with one single arm and move. Pure brutal force. I wish I could do that.
Call me stupid, but at that moment, I felt less masculine than Mihael. Damn...