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     The next day, Matthews flinched at the sight in the mirror.

     He was in the bathroom, looking at the red stripe clearly visible on his cheek, it being the main reason he wasn't in classes along with the rest of the orphans. He had decided on skipping, knowing that for a certain reason Grimerson wouldn't really condemn him for it.

     With a sigh, he exited the bathroom and looked at all of the empty bunks. Then he absent-mindedly ran a hand along the sides of the beds, and upon reaching his own, he slumped down on the mattress.

     Matt picked up his math notebook and squinted upon a problem on his assignment, far too easy for his entertainment. Still, after nibbling the eraser of his pencil for a good few minutes, he got on working.

     Half an hour later, though, he found himself gazing in space for the nth time.

     The page of his notebook was filled with scribbles, nonsense and doodles. It was no wonder he couldn't focus, the happenings from the day before were not exactly forgettable, the stinging on his cheek there to assure it would stay that way.

     And so, the young adult concluded, he found himself dreading to see his best friend. Yes, the principal's plan to part them might have just worked, despite it not having gone the way he wished to. Here Matthews was, trying to figure out how to avoid his closest friend for a decade, and why?

     Because they had enjoyed it...

     Matt could feel his throat swollen and his cheeks blush in shame at that knowledge. It was sick, sadistic even, whereas Matthews himself was nice and laid-back. Why did it happen? What did happen?

     It was official that he needed a distraction, and the dark floorboards weren't doing it.

     Matthews tapped his foot nervously, but as soft as he could in fear of getting heard by the teacher inside the classroom. Through the window, he could see a mess of blond strands grasping a table like tentacles and figured that beneath them was his friend, whose arm was dangling, the pencil in hand about to fall any second now.

     The utensil hit the floor and hopped a couple times before rolling away silently. It didn't prove to be enough to wake his friend up, but it did manage to attract the biologist's attention, so it seemed, because a sudden silence filled the room. Silent enough to make Matthews catch his own breath in fear of his heartbeats being heard from the hallway he was in. 

     After a low, muffled voice murmured something Matt couldn't quite hear, Adam- who was sitting near the blond- leaned and nudged him in the ribs with the pencil he had picked up from the floor.

     Oliver raised his hand, kept it there for a few seconds, then swatted the air, in a very late reaction since Adam was back on his seat.

     Then, the blond simply continued on his merry way to a realm far away from this one. That was, until Adam leaned once again to reach for some of his strands of hair and pull at them. Oliver ever so slowly straightened up, his ruffled hair covering all of his face and knots biting his hands as he tried to fix it.

     Upon managing to partially reveal his face, he offered a tired grin the biologist's way, but it faded as the man's low voice continued. The blond rolled his eyes at whatever had been told to him, and the gesture caused his gaze to eventually reach on the window of the room's door.

     As he noticed Matthews, his eyes widened for the slightest of moments before he returned his attention to the professor. The man's calm but scolding tone could only mean he was being kicked out, and that proved to be the case as the blond stood up, threw his bag over a shoulder and made his way towards Matt.

     The black-haired man pressed himself against the wall, not wishing for anyone to see and tell on him.

     After closing the door and moving away from it, Oliver sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it got stuck.

     "Morning, sunshine." Matt murmured, starting to walk along with his friend. "I have the vaguest of hunches you're tired."

     The blond glared at him, but his eyes involuntarily moved on his friend's cheek for a second before going back up to his eyes. "It's not as if I had much sleep, really. From waiting on you to wake up until well into the night, to trying to convince Veronique to sleep at once, I didn't get to do so myself."

     Matthews pursed his lips and lowered his head, unwelcoming of the subject and foreseeing the questions Oliver was bound to ask. He knew as much of the happening as William did, that being none, and one way or another he had to throw it out there. Or did he?

     Thankfully enough, his friend must have sensed his discomfort because he didn't address the matter further, instead chatted of how much of a burden his professor was while he leaded Matt to, curiously enough, the dining room.

     "Oliver, this isn't quite reasonable." Matthews complained, but followed him to the kitchen nonetheless. "What are you plotting?"

     The blond didn't reply, but it wasn't required, for the way he strode straight to the rack of wines said it all.

     "No! Such thing ended up terribly last time I got myself involved in stealing from the kitchen!" he argued quietly, pointing to the proof on his face. It wasn't what directly caused it, sure, but it was a domino effect that started from it.

     "Relax, fellow friend. I know one of the cook's helpers well. As in well, well." he grinned. "He'll cover up for me in case the cook finds out."

     "How is the helper going to solve anything?"

     "The helper knows the cook well. As in well, well." Oliver winked, at which Matthews just shook his head incredulously and took the wine from his friend, looking at the etiquette.

     "Ten years old? We're kind of getting ahead of ourselves, don't you think?"

     "Hey, if we are going to steal something, might as well be something worth it. Besides, two fine gentlemen like us would deserve a fine wine like that." Oliver shrugged with an easy grin and then leaded him out of the dining room, going for his room, all the while absent-mindedly fumbling with his striped arm warmer.

     Upon reaching their floor and rounding a corner, stepping in the hallway with Oliver's room, the two friends stopped in their tracks, impulsively wincing at the sight of people. However, the three men ahead of them mirrored their gesture, and after both the parties did a double take to realize they were all just orphans, a chorus of relieved sighs broke the tense silence.

     "Skipping classes, are we, mates?" Oliver teased, rubbing at his eye, apparently still tired.

     "That we are! But I notice your plan extends further than merely skipping." a man Matt recognized as Aiden said, suggestively eyeing the bottle held by the young adult.

     Oliver just chuckled lowly at that and resumed walking, patting his friends' shoulders as he did, and Matthews offered a polite nod of the head before following.

     The two friends entered the room and Matthews looked around for something to open the wine with, while Oliver picked up his hairbrush from a table and got on attempting to tame his hair.

     Upon finding no utensil to use on the bottle, he remembered a trick one of his wiser friends had taught him and looked around for a towel. After finding one in the bathroom, he wrapped it around the base of the bottle and his its bottom firmly against the wall, watching as the pressure inside gradually nudged the cork out.

     Tilting the bottle, Matt easily took the cork out and re-entered the bunkroom, climbed up the ladder to Oliver's bed -the middle one in the bunk- and sat next to him. He took a gulp of the liquid and hissed at the complex taste. It changed from the moment he sipped to the moment he swallowed, leaving him perplexed in the most pleasant way.

     "A wine with chewy tannins, I would say." he said, feeling his mouth going dry under the layer of bitter-sweet that coated the insides of his cheeks. He licked and chewed at them, swallowing the last feeling of the liquid but then took another few sips, not wanting to let go of the taste just yet.

     Then, he passed the bottle to his friend and took the hairbrush for him, getting on fighting the blond madness.

     You'd think a man brushing another's hair would be rather queer, but the scene was far from that. Oliver's shoulders were hunched and his gaze distant as he drank, occasionally hissing at the taste. Matthews's movements were clumsy and he would often cause his friend to grunt, at which he'd choke out a laughter. As manly as brushing another's hair could get, really.

     After all of the knots were gone with, Matt smoothed the strands into silky ribbons and then admired his handy work with a nod and a victorious gulp of the wine.

     "So." Oliver sniffled, criss-crossing his legs and turning towards Matthews with a quizzical look aimed at the side of his face. "Care to explain what actually happened yesterday?"

     The man in question sighed at that, licking his lips and running a finger along the rim of the bottle. He then shrugged a shoulder and answered. "I got in Bogeyman's way as he tried to whip Veronique. That caused me to loose my balance and hit my head against the floor. It's mostly my fault, really."

     A hand pressed against his cheek just then, and he sank in the cold touch since it was pleasant against the itchy, stingy feeling.

     "Hmm. You would do anything for that boy, wouldn't you?" Oliver asked absent-mindedly, taking the wine from him and taking a sip. After he chewed away the after-feeling in his mouth, he continued. "From getting yourself in trouble to taking his blows."

     "Why do you fool yourself into pleasing the women when it's clear that you feel for a boy?" the blond asked in a ragged voice, tilting his head and letting his hand fall from his friend's cheek.

     Matthews pursed his lips at that, not even taking the time to sort his words before answering. If he trusted anyone, it would have to be Oliver. The man helped him through puberty, curiosities, much more, and he was the only person to whom Matt spoke about how he catches himself stealing glimpses of Veronique's thighs, how he itches to flick his hair away from the bright turquoise maze that were his eyes, how he just can't help but follow every movement of his lips.

     The blond was always there to pat him on the shoulder and ease his burden, but about the weird desire triggered inside him last evening he would not speak, for Matt had a hard time confessing it to himself as it was.

     "You know how it is... I just don't want to accept feeling for my closest friend, you know? Giving into the urge of men would make it that harder to ignore the desire for Veronique."

     "So let me get this straight..." Oliver slurred, snorting. "You don't want to accept your sexuality because you don't want to accept your man-crush?"

     Matthews nodded.

     "You're missing on a lot, Matthews." his friend offered, his pale blue eyes gazing into distance. "There's something about homosexuality... That feeling of equality. Of not having everything on you shoulders. Of knowing the other's body like your own. It's just so natural, really." he nodded, looking at Matt from the corner of his eyes.

     "And yet, you experienced none of that." he monotonously stated, scooting closer with an assuring grin. Matthews hissed out a laughter, but didn't move away even as the man leaned in elegantly.

     "You should know your way around a man for when you decide to grow a pair and voice your undying love to Veronique." he suggested genuinely, his eyes alternating between Matt's eyes and his lips.

     The blond's wet lips were slightly parted as he gulped, his alcohol-kissed cheeks sharp and his jaw defined. He really was a handsome man, Matthews couldn't help but notice, especially up close, when you could see his every flawless feature, safe for the slight crook in his nose- but even that looked nice on him. 

     The two friends breathed through their noses, which were currently close enough for their puffs of air to tickle at the other's senses. There was this curious feeling on Matt's nose that he would get whenever he'd approach an object to it, a tickle of sorts, and it now manifested clearer than ever due to the anticipation.

     As if to itch the spot, Matt rubbed his nose against Oliver's, eyes never leaving his and a grin slowly making its way on his face. The little back and forth approach was an absolutely intriguing process. At once, Matthews had to choose between waiting for the kiss or initiating it, unlike the times he was bound to trigger it considering that's how girls wished it to go.

     Oliver pushed his forehead against Matt's and chuckled, licking his lips and gulping again, his mouth making a wet noise. The dark haired sighed contently and tilted their heads to connect their noses again, taking the time to listen to their syncing breathing.

     After a few peaceful moments, his friend lowered his eyes on his lips once again and kept them there as he tilted his head and leaned further in.

     They kept their lips parted as they touched lightly and held them like that for the couple seconds it took Matthews to stop shuddering. The rest of his body was foreign, his hands forgotten gripping the sheets, one of his legs propped on the bed and the other freely dangling by its side. All he was focusing on were his lips and his lips only.

     Then Oliver stole a short smooch, Matthews surprising himself by the equally short moan he produced. The dark haired man stole the smooch back, three times that is, with short brakes between each peck.

     Then they no longer parted mouths but initiated a kiss.

     It was something Matt never experienced before. The little-to-none sexual tension in the act made the kiss comfortable and more than enjoyable. Their lips slid against the other smoothly thanks to the alcohol, of which taste lingered and toyed with their senses.

     It seemed that Oliver managed to remember the existence of his limbs, because a hand suddenly made its way to the back of Matthews head, scratching at his scalp slowly. Matt purred and deepened the kiss, his shoulders raising excitedly.

     He was about to return the gesture, eager to tease the man's strands back into that ruffled mess he found too attractive, but before he got to, he had been pushed on his back against the mattress, head softly landing on the pillow.

     Oliver then leaned above him, and Matthews puffed at the sight. His friend's strands formed golden walls around him, only allowing view on his content, calm expression. As the blond continued to kiss him, Matt's leg that was dangling by the side of the high bed then slid on the mattress and raised involuntarily, his other one rubbing against the sheets continuously.

     The young adult's hands had a mind on their own as they raised to grip the pillow, neck stretching to deepen the make out.

     But then something put a stop to it.

     That is, a familiar material his fingers came across.

     Matthews moved his head to the side, letting the man's lips rest on his injured cheek as he slowly slid the material from underneath the pillow.

     Oliver sighed, straightening to grip the bottle left on the mattress and gulp down some wine.

     Matt sat up, his legs still on the sides his friend, and he looked intently at the accessory as to make sure he was seeing right.

     "This." he murmured, raising his look. "This is William's scarf. He was looking for it this morning."

     Oliver took the scarf and wrapped it loosely around his head, mostly his nose, and he deeply inhaled it, letting the empty bottle fall on the bed to bring the second hand on the accessory. "Yes, I met him back at the nurse room last night, led him to bed and took it after he fell asleep." he exhaled.

     Matthews let out a puff as his friend shoved his head in his chest, arms around his neck, and sent him back against the mattress.

     After a few seconds of trying to register the situation, Matt asked: "Why did you take it?"

     Oliver sighed again. "It smells like the old pages of those God forsaken books he finds, like the leathers on the books' covers, and like the wood of the shelves supporting them."

     Matthews blinked and took the time to let that sink in. "You took his scarf because it smells like the Library?"

     "I took his scarf because it smells like him." Oliver murmured those last words lowly as he steadily sunk into the sleep he'd missed last night.

     "Matthews!"

     The man flinched awake at hearing his name. Well, not awake since he wasn't even asleep, but drunkenly staring into space as he thought of things he already forgot.

     He had come back to his room a few hours ago, leaving Oliver to his sleep as he took the time to let everything sink in.

     He was into men.

          He felt a sadistic attraction towards Veronique.

               Oliver had masturbated to William's scarf.

     Yeah. Who could blame him for taking hours to let those sink in?

     "I tried getting out of classes to see you, I did, but the professors were being unreasonable and during the breaks you weren't here and- and- are you drunk?"

     The man in question slowly turned his head towards the door, where Veronique was standing confused and worried, and watched as the teenager walked up to him, kneeling on the mattress and waiting an answer.

     Matthews chuckled at the view before him. His friend's position was rather submissive, his hands on his lap and his back straightened, head tilted curiously and shoulders uneven.

     "Yes." Matt stated, a small smile playing at his lips as Veronique worriedly placed a palm on his cheek.

     The hand wasn't nearly as cold as Oliver's, offering little physical consolation to the faint singing, but, emotionally, it healed the wound at the first touch. With a sigh, Matt placed his hand on Veronique's, pinning it there.

     "How come?" the teenager asked.

     "Just, you know... Could use the distraaaah..." he trailed off, then inhaled through his nose. "Distraction... Oliver and I stole wine... Good wine that was, chewy tannins and complex taste." he slurred, spinning his finger in a circle motion despite the gesture being irrelevant.

     Veronique shook his head incredulously. "I was so worried about you, Mattie." he murmured with a frown, letting his hand fall from the older man's cheek. He then slid on the mattress to lean his back against the wall, stretching his legs ahead of him and rubbing his toes together.

     Matthews bit his lip and hissed out a small laughter, and then saw nothing wrong in scooting closer to his friend and placing his head on his lap. As soon as he did, he slightly moved it as to make himself comfortable on the smooth skin of his thighs and looked up at the boy towering above him.

     "It was my fault, I just..." Veronique tried, but was far too embarrassed to admit anything related to last evening.

     He wouldn't even get the chance to, though, because just then Matthews placed a hand on all of his face, blocking his sentence. Between his friend's fingers, Veronique watched as the man's distant eyes slowly closed, his lips exposing the two front teeth.

     The hand slowly slid down, causing Veronique's lower lip to pout, and then the tip of Matt's fingers reached between his teeth. It wasn't until the hand got heavy that the teenager realized he was biting his fingers in attempt to keep them there, and as soon as he noticed he let go of them, watching as Matthews's arm fell limply on his chest.

     William and his roommates chose that moment to enter, few people minding the two friends' position, too engaged in their conversations. Will approached the bunk and curiously stared at them, his naked neck stretching as he tilted it curiously, looking at something sticking out of Matt's pocket.

     "Is that my scarf?"

No dedication since no one guessed who the kiss was going to be between :) (I had sent a message about the mini contest of sorts but only got two replies. That's what I get for considering myself noticeable and important).

Yaes.... no hard feelings. Comment if you feel like it? You probably don't. 'ts all right. 

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