James woke up with a headache strong enough to break his will to live. He grunted, got out of bed, and rubbed his face. It was morning, finally. His late-night sins were still heavy around his neck, a thick chain suffocating him. He looked at Victor’s empty bed and a rush of adrenaline wired him up. He scanned the room for shoes and his coat. They were missing. He told himself to calm down, after all, he had no right to tell Victor what to do with his free time.

He went to the cafeteria and got some eggs, toast, and extra bacon. He also got orange juice for Oliver.

Victor was not there. He scanned the entire room at least five times, then three more times to be sure. James felt restless. James thought about Victor being drunk again. James thought about Victor’s bruises. He cared so much it made him sick. Yet it was morning, it wasn’t even nine o’clock, surely, not even Victor would start his shenanigans so early in the day.

He took the food back to his room. Through a mutual agreement on all three parties that shared that space, the floor had become the place to eat from. He sat down, trying not to kick over Victor’s tower of cans. He passed Oliver his food.

“Ok,” Oliver sighed, holding a straw pressed on the inside of his upper lip. “What wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” James shrugged, hoping that he didn’t sound tense.

Oliver hummed, his eyes lingering on James. He could feel them burn into his skin and the shame within him burst aflame again. Oliver knows. It was an irrational idea, but that train of thought was already derailing. Oliver knew for sure and he was judging him. Of course, he was judging him! He jerked off thinking of someone else. Images of Victor on his knees flashed in his mind. He pushed them back. He didn’t need to think of that now. It was stupid, there was no way Oliver had any clue what kind of crap filled his brain.

“Are you sure?” Oliver asked again, in that same tone of voice that reminded him of a therapist. Too nice, too understanding.

“I’m fine.” He smiled. He had to figure a way to bring up his issues, but he wasn’t even sure what his issues were. That he liked Victor? That he found Victor obnoxiously attractive. That he now had a clear vision of how Victor would look sucking on his dick?

Something started vibrating. It wasn’t his. Oliver patted the bed with his hands until he found the culprit. Shit. He had forgotten to give Victor his phone back.

“Why is this here?” He frowned at the device, confusion was written all over his face. “I know he’s messy but damn.”

James stretched out his hand and took the phone. It was one of those models that still needed touch ID to be unlocked, but he could see the notifications.

“Are you reading his messages?” Oliver took a fried egg and placed it between two slices of bread.

“No," he said, looking at the sender’s name. It was nothing but a string of numbers. Why would Victor bother to save someone’s info on his phone, that chaotic prick!

“What does it say?” Oliver took a bite from his sandwich.

“Hey, Vic, we’re going out tonight, you know the drill, please answer when your up.” James frowned, his left ear started ringing. “And they spelled you’re wrong.” He placed the phone down.

“I wish I could go on an adventure and follow him again, but I really have to finish my homework. If I get another bad grade, I won’t hear the end of it. Will you go with him?”

“What, just me?” 

“Yes, you’re the tall buff man.”

“Jesus, Oliver.”

Oliver was on the verge of speaking when the door opened and Victor walked in, holding a plastic cup filled with iced coffee. His hair was freshly cut, neat, and perfect. He was wearing his uniform and he looked good. James forced himself not to gawk.

“We are not talking about hair again.” Victor sat on the edge of his bed and kicked his shoes off. “Why is my phone there?”

“Because you’re a disaster.” James grabbed the device off the floor and passed it to Victor. He watched the sudden panic on his face as he struggled to catch it without spilling coffee everywhere.

“You asshole!”

James laughed. “You should learn to take better care of your shit, Arlington.”

“You should learn not to touch other people’s stuff, Brooks.”

Victor’s eyes fell on the screen. James watched him respond to the messages. A part of him wanted to slap that thing out of his hand.

“So you’re leaving tonight?” He cringed at the tension in his voice. 

“I see that they don’t teach you privacy at public schools.”

“I want to come.” James kept his attention on Victor. He wanted to see some reaction, but all he got was a shrug. Victor dragged his eyes away from the glowing display and glued them on James.

A thrill ran down through his chest, right into his pants.

“Fine.” Victor didn’t even blink. “I don’t care what you do with your free time.”

"Great." James flashed him a fake smile. At least he didn't have to argue or sneak around. 

James spent the rest of his day wondering how he should open up a conversation with Oliver. Telling your boyfriend that you have a massive crush on your roommate didn't seem like a good plan. Neither was mentioning his jerkoff material. 

No matter how he twisted the words in his head, they still came off wrong and even insulting. 

Before he knew it, it was dark outside and Victor was getting ready to leave. Soon after, James found himself getting into an overcrowded car. It was the same gist, vehicles parked in front of the gates, people hyped by the prospect of getting blackout drunk.

Victor had made it clear that he wanted to be left alone, which James understood as him wanting to get in trouble. A little voice in his head whispered to him that Victor was looking for tragedy and he should just let the wreckage happen. He couldn’t, though.

James watched the trees slowly turn into houses and buildings. They didn’t stop in that small town where everyone goes during the weekend. The cars keep driving and driving until the next town over. 

This time, it wasn’t a warehouse. It was a house. A normal house with a normal yard and a normal fence.

The driver, whatever his name was, parked the car, and James got out. The air was cold and the ground was still wet. His blood was already boiling and nothing even happened.

He walked inside the house. The music was loud and it was only a matter of fact until someone complained to the cops.

James scanned the crowned, he’d been to enough parties to figure out what some of those people were up to. Their handshakes were suspicious, lasted too long. It was obvious why the next thing they did was shove their clenched fists into their pockets. People needed to realize that there was no subtle way of buying drugs.

His eyes finally found Victor. He watched him talk to someone. He watched him take a sip from his drink. He watched him slip something between his lips. James rushed next to him and grabbed his arm. He tugged him away to a calmer corner of the room.

“What did you do?”

Victor’s confusion turned into a frown. He pulled himself free.

“I thought we had an agreement that you’ll stay out of my business.”

James wanted to grab him by the face, force his mouth open, and shove his fingers down his throat. He didn’t even care if that would hurt.

Victor had the audacity to smile. “Your parties must be so boring. Live a little.”

“Arlington, I swear to God…”

“What?” Victor emptied the bottle and tossed it unceremoniously over his shoulder. He didn’t seem to care if someone was going to trip over it. “What?!” He asked again, louder.

“You’re a fucking mess,” James said. Victor still had that sharp, unamused, smile plastered on his face. It didn’t look real.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable sharing your opinion of me. I also think you’re an asshole that needs to learn some boundaries.”

“I think you can do better than that.” James heard himself speak before he had the change to filter his thoughts. He was angry.

“Fuck off.” Victor rolled his eyes and walked away.

“What the fuck did you take?” He asked again, his head spinning. He kept telling himself that it was only a pill, that nobody died because of a pill. But it could happen.

Victor grabbed another beer and disappeared into the crowd. James was getting a migraine. 

It took him another half an hour to find Victor again. He was outside, in the backyard, smoking on a bench with his head tilted back. The air was getting frosty and Victor’s coat was unbuttoned.

James sat next to him. Victor looked at him and cracked a smile. His eyes looked ablaze, wild. He turned his whole body towards James, tucking his foot under him. He placed his hands on the bench and leaned forward.

His movements were fluid, fast, his dark eyes were alert and alive. James had a feeling he knew what happened. He reached out and touch the side of Victor’s neck. He was far too warm for this weather. 

“Victor, what did you do?” He asked, as calmly as he could. Victor didn’t pull away from his touch. He leaned into it, which did two things. It freaked him out and it made his pants uncomfortably tight around his crotch area. 

Victor was high and drunk.

“What did I do?” He asked, steam coming out his mouth. James looked at his lips. He wanted to grab him by the shirt, pull him on his lap and kiss him. He wanted to push his hands up his shirt. His thoughts were wild, they devoured him whole. He didn’t even have to try, his imagination was running wild; glimpses of naked skin and indecent kisses.

“What did you take?” James had to stand and take a few steps back. He didn’t really trust himself anymore. At least he was still sober and rational. 

Victor’s attention was stuck on him. “Let’s go back,” James said. Victor got up and walked towards him. Then he was close. Very close. His body was pressed against James’ and there was a hunger in his eyes. This wasn't normal Victor. 

“Back where?” Victor’s mouth was inches away from his. He could smell the alcohol and cigars and it didn’t put him off. 

Victor’s arm wrapped around his neck, the other one around his back. They were almost the same height, their noses were almost touching. They were almost kissing.

“Come on.” He pulled away easily, Victor wasn’t gripping onto him desperately. 

“Come on, where?” There was something electric in his voice. He could feel it in his body too. He was about to explode. Victor reached towards him and touched his chest with the tips of his fingers, then dragged them down over his stomach before curling into his belt.

“Come where?” He asked again and James' felt lightheaded. He grabbed Victor’s wrist and pulled them away from his pants. He had a boyfriend, he had the best boyfriend and this wasn't acceptable. 

“Back to the campus.” He almost choked on his words.

Victor laughed. James took his arm and guided him toward the front of the house. They needed a car. He needed to not be alone with Victor for too long. This Victor, this overly affectionate Victor, this happy Victor was driving him insane.

“Do you have cash on you?” He asked, thinking he could still call a cab to take them back.

Victor nodded. This eagerness did not suit him. 

They could still hear the loud music coming from inside. Victor leaned on him, chest against chest, and tucked his head into the crook of James’ neck. James figured he was going to suffer an aneurism, but he didn’t want to push him away. He had one arm around his waist, holding him still. 

"I'm going to call a taxi," James said. He felt Victor's body shake with laughter. 

"Who the fuck uses taxis anymore," he said, "Never heard of Uber?" 

"There's Uber here?" 

"I want to walk." Victor pulled away. He was still smiling. "I want to run." 

"No." 

"Yes."

"Please." Victor grabbed him by the elbows. He wasn't squeezing them hard. James had to notice how gentle Victor was when he touched people, even now, when he was probably high on Ecstasy. 

"Ok." James caved. It wasn't probably the worst idea, Victor needed to burn some of that energy somehow. It wasn't the best idea either.

They were going to be alone together.