Two Batty Kids :: Me and Polo

James just shot an incredulous look in response to Orion's question, and he winced on his friend's behalf, kicking himself for not having something more comforting to say. For a long while, James just stayed silent, while Orion stressed quietly beside him, casting around in his mind for something - anything - to say. "James..." He tried softly, and at last, the other man murmured a reply.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He flopped down onto his side, looking the furthest thing from fine. Orion's brow creased worriedly. "Can you hand me a beer though? I'm going to need a lot of alcohol to deal with this shit..."
"I-" Orion opened his mouth to object, but as he was about to tell James that he wouldn't bring him a drink because drinking was bad and he was destroying his kidneys - and so on, and so forth - he took a look at his friend's miserable expression, the read streaks staining his cheeks, and the words died on his lips. He didn't have the heart. 
With a sigh, he turned around, trudging across the room to James's beer stash, and pulling out a couple of cans. He walked back and tossed one to James, then vaulted onto the bed beside him. 
"One beer." He said firmly, cracking open his own and taking a sip, "And then how about you tell me what's going on." His expression softened, and he leaned over impulsively to ruffle James's hair in a playful fashion. "Come on, man." He teased, "You look like shit, and that's coming from me." With a soft snort of breath, he shook his head, slipping off his shades, and tossing them carelessly over toward his own bed. They bounced off the pillows, and landed in the crumpled rolls of his duvet. He made a mental note not to sit on them later, then turned back to James, seeing him more clearly without his world in shadows. His frown deepened further still. The light made James look no better. 
Just what happened to you...? He wondered, swallowing back his anxiety, then taking another sip of beer. It cut him up to see James so upset... Perhaps more than it should have. 
No... Definitely more. 
Shit.

After a moment of hesitation, Orion finally brought James that beer. He sat up when his roommate handed it to him and probably would have been surprised if he had been thinking clearly when the man hopped up beside him, especially without the use of a ladder. He cracked open the top of the can and immediately drank as much as he could muster in one breath. When he pulled away gasping, about three quarters of the can was gone and more tears were coming.
"One beer. And then how about you tell me what's going on."
James shook his his head frantically, like a small child refusing to go to the store or something silly like that. He couldn't bring himself to tell Orion about everything that had gone on, especially after the part about the weed had ended. It seemed as though what had been said would not fall on Orion's ears well. The weed part would be okay to tell. Just... not the rest.
"Come on, man. You look like shit, and that's coming from me."
James let out a bitter chuckle and let his hair be ruffled without a fight. It already looked like, well, shit, anyway, so what did it matter? Besides, the gesture was comforting. He found he usually needed comfort after encounters with his parents. Comfort and alcohol, and maybe a fuzzy blanket.
When James didn't say anything, Orion sighed and took off his sunglasses slowly, tossing them across the room and then turning back to face James. His green eyes were burning, and James turned his head away and squeezed his own pathetic hazel eyes shut so that he wouldn't have to meet that smoldering gaze. That was the quickest way Orion would be able to pull the truth out of him would be to ask with those eyes, and James wasn't ready to give up yet.
So he kept his stubborn silence, empty gaze fixed pointedly on the wall.
"I don't want to talk about it."

After Orion had asked his question, a palpable silence spanned between the two, only broken by the odd creak of a bed spring, or the quiet gulping of beer. He watched James closely, waiting patiently, until an answer finally came. It was not what he wanted to hear. 
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Sure," He answered fairly, nodding, "And I don't want to sit through another Science class with a professor who should have died about a hundred years ago. Funny thing though; turns out we can't always get what we want." He shrugged, taking another casual sip of beer - more to make a point than because he really wanted it - and looked over at James. The other man was avoiding his eye. 
"Hey. Look at me."
James didn't obey, and Orion sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his fringe and staring up at the ceiling. Was he really right to pry? It wasn't much like him, but then again, he didn't usually give a damn what poor sucker was curled up in a blubbering heap, fed up with life. Now that it was James, he felt that he had to try. They always said that talking about your demons was a good thing, didn't they? Besides, he wanted to know what it was that had gotten his friend into such a state. 
"Oi, Jimmy-boy." His eyes narrowed, and he grabbed himself a thick handful of James's hair, forcing him to meet his gaze, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. One way or another, you're gonna tell me what's bothering you. I'm not going to repeat it, and I'm not going to judge you. I'm here to listen." He tightened his grip on James's hair, and wobbled his head slightly from side to side, lips softening into what could almost be considered a smirk. "Come on, man. Let me lend an ear, at least. I'm not using both anyway."

James rolled his eyes as Orion told him that people didn't always get what they wanted. Yeah,t hat was true, but Orion couldn't really control the fact that his class was being taught by that old guy. Unless, of course, he went and kill the professor, but that probably wouldn't be the smartest course of action. Here, James could control whether or not he was going to talk about this, and he had already made up his mind that not a word would be spoken.
"Hey. Look at me."
No.
That was not going to happen. If this were a movie, this would be the part where Orion would put his fingers gently under James's chin and turn turn his head so that they could look into each other's eyes. James would still be looking at the ground. Then his eyes would flicker up cautiously and meet his roommate's gaze, and the entire world would melt away, leaving just the two of them. And at some point they would kiss, maybe their hands would wander a bit and...
James stopped thinking, a heat of red covering his cheeks. This was not a movie. Besides, that sounded more like a gay erotica novel that a sixteen year old girl would write. And he wasn't gay, he wasn't gay, he wasn't gay-
You're so fucking gay.
James sighed and was about to put his head in his hands when a rough hand tangled itself in his hair. He let out a soft whimper as his head was wrenched around to meet Orion's gaze - not softly, like it should have been, but roughly.
"Oi, Jimmy-boy. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. One way or another, you're gonna tell me what's bothering you. I'm not going to repeat it, and I'm not going to judge you. I'm here to listen."
James didn't really register the words as Orion spoke them; in fact, he didn't even hear them at all. The man's eyes were burning, smoldering, hurting him with their intensity. It was all James could do to remember to breathe. He was frozen in place. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that he ought to move, to get away, but he couldn't. The cans of beer from this morning, and the one that he'd just had, combined with the maddening effects of Orion's eyes, immobilized him.
Then his lips moved, twisting into a wicked half-smile. James's eyes darted down to focus on the twitch, and stayed locked on the lips. He wondered what it would be like if he...
Queer, the voice whispered.
Shut up, he answered. He could always blame these thoughts on the alcohol.
"Come on, man. Let me lend an ear, at least. I'm not using both anyway."
"I don't want to talk." He repeated quietly, still contemplating his decision.
Orion had already messed up the first part of the scenario, so it was up to James to set it right. But suddenly, he found that he didn't really want it to go exactly as planned.
"I don't want to talk." He repeated, his voice a low growl. His mind quickly abandoned everything that had happened earlier; all his thoughts were on Orion's lips. Suddenly, James leaned forward and pressed his mouth crushingly against his roommate's, reaching up and hand and tangling it in Orion's hair much the same as his was wrapped in James's own.

"I don't want to talk." James persisted, and Orion sighed heavily, quickly running out of ideas to break through his friend's defensive. "Mate," He began pleadingly, "If you don't-"
"I don't want to talk." James repeated, dropping his voice to an unexpected growl that left Orion speechless. There was something strange in the way James was looking at him, and as he searched the hazel eyes before him, he felt a puzzled frown settling across his face. His brow had barely got a chance to crease, when suddenly, James began leaning toward him. 
There was no time to ponder, to think and respond. Before he could even comprehend what had happened, Orion found his free hand braced against the bed, twitching slightly under the burden of his weight as he leaned away from the shocking feeling of his roommate's lips smacking against his. 
He grunted in surprise, and then his shock became hazy as his world zeroed in on the kiss, momentarily overwhelmed by how right it felt, and how wrong. For the space of a heartbeat he was lost in unexpected bliss, and then James's fingers tangled in his hair, and reality rushed back with a cold, rude snap. 
He uttered another muffled sound of surprise, more panicked this time, and jerked his head to the side, squirming away until his friend's fingers became untangled. His own had jerked back so sharply that he must have pulled James's hair by accident, but there was no room left in his mind to worry about that. It was already racing. 
Too stunned to speak, he pulled back, covering his mouth with the side of his cupped hand, as though shielding his lips could take away the lingering taste of the kiss, and the frantic racing of his heart that went with it. It didn't. 
His eyes were as wide as a cornered doe's as they searched James's face, his expression a potent mix of blind shock, and a hurt that he could not quite explain. It had all happened so darn quickly, he'd had no time to compose himself, or to guard his emotions. Now, it struck him with the force of a train to realize that the last person to kiss him like that had been Luke himself. It was that thought that sent him over the edge, and suddenly, it was all too much to bear. He couldn't be in the room a second longer. 
"I... Have to go." He murmured at last, voice hoarse from fright. Without looking James in the eye, he jumped quickly down from the bed, grabbed his jacket and keys, and made a bee-line for the door. Any thought of comforting his miserable roommate was long, long gone from his mind. Now, he wanted nothing more than to calm his own racing heart, and clear his mind before his raging thoughts drove him to sheer madness. 
What the hell just happened? How? Why?

The alcohol running through his veins slowed his thoughts, slowed his reactions, slowed down everything except for time. That seemed to pick up, and in an instant, Orion was pulling away with a panicked expression on his face. The man jumped down from the bed, grabbed his jacket and keys for his bike and left, the door slamming behind him.
It all happened so quickly that James wasn't able to register what he had done for a few minutes, and when the realization hit him, he buried his face in his hands and began crying all over again. After a while, he stumbled into the bathroom and washed his mouth out, trying to scrub away all traces of the taste of Orion. He even used soap, despite the horrible taste. Then he threw up and had to wash his mouth out all over again. The cycle continued for a long time - he didn't even know how long - until he managed to drag himself away from the toilet and back to his bed. He climbed up the ladder, only falling to the ground once, which was practically a miracle in his woozy state. Then he curled up beneath the blankets and shivered. He cried until his eyes were dry, until he wasn't even sure what he was sad about anymore. All he knew was that even though he had a pretty much perfect life, he had screwed it up so badly that it was now a living hell. The beer, the drugs, his sexuality... Everything was wrong.
Somehow he managed to fall asleep, but he woke up often, struggling between cold fits and hot flashes. At about one o'clock, he realized his wrist brace had come off, but he didn't even feel like trying to put it back on. Two o'clock and he couldn't stand having the blankets over him. Three, and it was all he could do to not get a sweatshirt as he lay in bed shivering.
When dawn broke the next day, James covered his eyes and tried to continue sleeping. He had a raging headache and his eyes ached. Why?
Oh yeah.
The memories from the day before came flooding back, and it was all he could do not to begin crying again.

The door slammed with a harsh finality as Orion pulled it shut behind him, walking quickly down the corridor without so much as sparing a glance at the few students still littering the floor, laughing and chatting as though they hadn't a care in the world. He shouldered roughly past them, his breath coming in quick gasps, and stumbled hurriedly out the main exit, and into the crisp, fresh air outside. He took in a deep gulp of it, letting it sober his frazzled nerves, and slowly, he felt his racing heart begin to slow. One more breath, then he shrugged on his jacket and walked over to his bike, buckling on his helmet and swinging his leg over the sleek leather seat. A turn of the key and flick of his wrist, and he was off. Within moments, the university had shrunk to nothing but a speck in his side-view mirror. Then he turned a corner, and it was gone from sight entirely. He breathed in gratefully as the fresh air rushed by him, whipping at his face to cool his hot cheeks, and as he saw the road open up like a red carpet before him, he felt a tiny rush of excitement break through the crushing shock and horror that weighed on his mind. Without a second thought, Orion turned his wrist, and sent the bike roaring down the freeway, weaving around the speeding cars as though they were standing still. He watched the speedometer climb.
180, 200, 220, and the needle continued to rise. Hearing the sound of a hooter, his eyes darted up, and he cursed as he saw the back end of a trailer approaching far too rapidly. Knowing that it was too late to stop, he hissed in a breath and swung his bike to the side, crossing over into the other land. Another bone-shattering horn sounded as he crossed the line, noticing - too late - a massive truck barreling down on him from the opposite direction. 
His heart leaped into his throat, and in a flash of painc, he tightened his sweaty palms on the bike's handlebars, then twisted his wrist forward as far as it would go. The keen Honda roared in response, bolting forward with such force that the front wheel left the ground for a moment, and his head snapped back on his neck. His breath caught as the sky swept dizzily past his eyes, and he found himself praying to a God that he didn't even believe in as the whine of the engine, the rush of wind, and the blaring of the truck's hooter defeaned him all at once. 
Shooting past the station wagon with the trailer, Orion pulled the bike's handlebars hard to the left, pulling over just as the truck passed by - the wind of it buffeting him so strongly that he nearly fell off the bike. 

He gaped in hollow shock as the road opened out before him again, then adrenaline hit, and his lips cracked a rare grin. He couldn't remember when last he'd felt so alive!
With a bark of laughter, Orion cast another glance at the speedometer, now shuddering at 260 km/h. He could feel the speed in his very bones!


The drive had been a long one, and although he'd felt considerably better by the end of it, the anxiety and frustration lingering from James's kiss had still not quite passed. Worrying that perhaps his temper were not quite cool enough, he had decided to stop off at one of his favourite haunts: The shooting range. Donned with several pistols, closely followed by a shotgun and a handful of particularly lovely rifles, Orion shot the crap out of the battered targets until his ears rang through the thick earmuffs, and his arms ached from recoil. 
They kicked him out when it started getting dark, and a glance at his watch showed Orion that it was already after nine at night. Mentally and physically spent, he mounted his bike with a yawn, more than ready to endure the long drive home, and collapse into his bed without so much as sparing a thought for what had happened earlier. With the high-pitched ringing in his ears clogging up his mind, he could barely even remember. Or so he told himself, anyway. 
When he finally got in - stiff, tired and reeking of gunpowder - it was well after midnight, and James was in bed, apparently asleep, though fitfully so. Orion collapsed into his own bed still fully dressed, leather jacket and all, and passed out the moment his head his the pillow. He didn't even have time to pull the blanket over him. 

***

The next morning dawned all too soon, but despite the heaviness in his eyes when the unwelcome light from the window fell upon him, the hunger in his stomach called far, far louder. He had missed supper the night before. Lunch, too. 
With a groan of displeasure, he sat up in bed, and when he tried to rub his eyes, he groaned even louder. His arms ached! In fact, his stiff muscles were so painful, he was almost tempted to call up Mr. Chang and let him know that he'd have to drop out of university, since he'd never be able to lift a pencil ever again. Pulling a face, he disentangled himself from the blanket - which had somehow got wrapped around him in the night - and slipped carefully to the ground, wincing when every one of his muscles jolted painfully. He hissed in a breath through his teeth, rubbing an aching bicep, then finally risked a glance toward the bed across the room. James was stirring. A mixture of anxiety and frustration rose up in him again as he thought back to the previous day, but Orion pushed the feelings firmly down, instead taking pity on the man who - when all was said and done - was still the closest thing to a friend that he had. 
"Morning." He called a little too brightly, swiping an empty beer can off the floor, and tossing it at James's pillow. "Get your ass out of bed and come down with me for breakfast. You're too young to waste a whole Sunday sleeping in!"
Grabbing a towel and a clean change of clothes, he walked over to the bathroom, then stopped and added, "You have until I finish my shower - then I'm gonna dump a jug of something on you, and I won't promise it's gonna be water. Your choice, buddy."

Faintly James heard the sound of Orion moving around the room, although he honestly had no idea when the other man had come back, or why the hell he was up so damn early.
"Morning. Get your ass out of bed and come down with me for breakfast. You're too young to waste a whole Sunday sleeping in!"
"Shut up." James moaned, rolling towards the can of beer, hoping, for a moment, that it was unopened. But Orion wasn't that kind, and it was empty. He let out another pathetic groan and curled up under the blankets, pulling them over his pounding head. He shouldn't have been drinking two days in a row. The problem was getting worse, it seemed, not better, as he had hoped. Maybe he wouldn't touch another drink for a few weeks.
He opened his eyes and glanced up at Orion stalking into the bathroom, and then squeezed his eyes shut. After today, of course. There was too much to deal with today.
"You have until I finish my shower - then I'm gonna dump a jug of something on you, and I won't promise it's gonna be water. Your choice, buddy."
James had no doubt that his roommate was completely serious, but seeing as beer was the only liquid they had copious amounts of for that threatened drenching, he was perfectly content to remain in bed. There was no reason not to start the day completely wasted in his situation.
So he lay there as he heard the water turn on and start running, listening to the sound of it in the next room mixed with the slow beating of his heart. He drifted in and out of a light sleep until the shower turned off. Suddenly becoming terrified of the jug, he leaped up and shot down the ladder, nearly tumbling over in the process, in an effort to make it look as if he had been getting ready the entire time. His head was pounding, so he rummaged through his things and found his painkillers, popping a few of the pills and putting the bottle back in his bag.
James found it strange - especially after his roommate's reaction last night - that Orion was talking to him. Maybe he was just ignoring the kiss... James's cheeks burned at the thought of that, and he quickly told himself that it was just the alcohol and the depression he was feeling from his parents that had made him do it. He was craving human contact, and that was the first thing he thought of. Obviously a hug would have been more appropriate, although that might have even been stretching it for Orion, who had just suffered such a horrible breakdown about Luke earlier that morning and-
Oh God, Luke.
James let out a low curse and buried his face in his hands. How could he have forgotten about Luke? How incredibly, foolishly stupid of him. It was bad enough that he had kissed the poor fellow, but to look so much like his dead ex and do it? Unspeakable.
Maybe what Orion was doing - which was ignoring it had ever happened - was probably the best course of action. That would have to do. He didn't really mind that plan, as long as he could avoid an embarrassing conversation about it...

Orion took his time in the shower, but no matter how much he scrubbed at his hair and skin, and no matter how much deodorant he sprayed on afterwards, the acrid scent of gunpowder still clung to him like spray from a skunk. Although the aroma was considerably more pleasant - albeit slightly unsettling - it was every inch as persistent. He might as well have been rolling around in a vat of the stuff.
Yawning to himself, he scrubbed at his hair briefly with a towel, then took a few minutes to shave the stubble he'd grown overnight before he dressed for the day. He emerged shortly afterwards to find James scrabbling around, pretending like he hadn't got out of bed just a second ago. He wasn't fooling anyone.
Hiding his amusement, Orion ignored his friend as he tossed his dirty clothes into a hamper, ready to be washed at a later stage. They would probably make the room smell like somebody had just hosted a fireworks display under the bed, but he couldn't help that.

Sitting tiredly on the edge of his bed, Orion watched as James scampered around, hurrying to get ready in time. So far, his friend had neither mentioned the kiss, nor given any indication that he intended to, so Orion supposed they they had agreed to some unspoken pact to pretend it had never happened. After all, James wasn't yet willing to believe he was gay, and Orion was neither willing to hold it against him - since James was his friend - nor forgive him, since he was not, and would never be, his boyfriend. In the end, the only logical option was to ignore it, and as they did, it became easier and easier to believe that it had all been nothing but a fleeting dream, perhaps not even real at all.
"You ready yet?" He asked boredly, speaking up mostly to keep his thoughts from straying any further into the previous day. He glanced at his watch. "We've already missed breakfast. By this time, there won't be anything but watery yogurt and burnt muesli left." He sighed heavily, clearly weary of the problems of university life, and added, "How about we hit Mc Donald's for brunch? I'll drive if you pay."
Not that he expected James to be willing to climb onto the back of his bike, of course, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be a passenger in a car before he'd had his breakfast. With barely four hours sleep in him, he was in no mood to tolerate motion sickness on top of everything else.

James continued fumbling around the room even after Orion came out of the bathroom, looking for a clean pair of clothes. He really needed to clean up his crap - how was is it already so disorganized? - and he vowed that he would organize all of his stuff as soon as possible. Today was probably a good day to do laundry as well. He sighed; housekeeping days were always fairly boring, although boring was probably a good thing. It was better than some alternatives, he thought, sneaking a glance up at his roommate.
"You ready yet?"
"Almost." James answered, heading into the bathroom and closing the door, not even bothering to continue listening after realizing that the man was just complaining about missing breakfast.
He didn't have to wait for me, he thought to himself, a little grumpily. It probably would have been better if he didn't, anyway.
When he emerged from the bathroom, hair combed over perfectly and a clean set of clothes on, Orion said, "How about we hit McDonald's for brunch? I'll drive if you pay."
James frowned. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not getting on that bike." He shook his head and glanced down. He hated motorcycles, first of all. Second of all, the position required for the two of them to ride that damned bike... His cheeks colored and he shook his head again. And letting Orion drive his car was certainly out of the question.
He was hungry, though, and his painkillers were not meant to be taken on an empty stomach. A low growl from his abdomen made up his mind.
"I'll pay if you go pick it up. Get me a number three." He said with a sigh, moving over to his desk and pulling out his wallet from a drawer. He pulled out a twenty and handed it to the man, letting his eyes flicker upward to prove that nothing was wrong and that there was no reason for him to be embarrassed because he certainly did not kiss Orion the night before. He was relieved that the man was wearing his sunglasses - the green eyes would have completely thrown the entire gesture away.
With a heavy swallow, James turned around and climbed back up his bed, picking up his wrist brace and fumbling with it for a few moments before finally strapping it on. He did not lift his eyes from his injury.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not getting on that bike." James answered stubbornly, and unless he was much mistaken, Orion could have sworn that he saw the man blush slightly. He pretended not to notice. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow expectantly at James, and though to ask 'well, then what's your solution'? He friend seemed to think for a minute, then his stomach growled, and he sighed. "I'll pay if you go pick it up. Get me a number three." He decided at last, and Orion nodded amiably, waiting for him to fetch the money. He didn't mind; he loved taking his bike out, and after all of the petrol and shooting the night before, he was pretty broke. And he would sooner starve to death than ask Mr. Chang for money. He shuddered at the mere thought of it, and thanked his lucky stars that he was used to living off change scratched out of couch cushions. Anything was better than selling his pride to an asshole of a foster father...
He was still lost in thought when James handed him the money, and he stumbled back to reality with a grunt, taking it a little too quickly so his fingers brushed briefly against James's for a moment. His roommate held his gaze, trying far too hard not to notice. He could not have been more obvious.
For a moment, the friction between them seemed to grow, but then James swallowed and turned away, leaving Orion staring blankly at him with the twenty still clutched stupidly in his hand. He watched for a moment as his friend began reattaching his wrist brace without even looking at him, then he swallowed and turned to the door, shaking off his thoughts.
No matter how hard they tried to pretend, things were not going to go back to normal quite so fast. It was a disappointing realization. 
Sighing heavily, Orion shoved the money into his pocket, then jogged out to his bike, and started it up for a trip to Mc. Donald's.

He took longer than expected, and when Orion returned 45 minutes later and let himself into the room, he was not alone. A woman a few years older than himself clung to his arm, chattering animatedly away with her honey-brown bob bouncing around her bonnie face, and her brown eyes crinkled cheerfully. She was shorter than him, but not by much, and she wore a short white sundress that fell elegantly to her knees, perfectly matching the white leather bag slung over his shoulder. Stephanie Chang was one of the sharpest young legal minds in the country - yet another of Mr. Chang's 'projects', and a rather successful one - but by the way she was grinning and fooling around, hanging on Orion's shoulder, one could never guess it by looking at her.
"Ooooh!" She trilled as they walked in, looking around in fascination, "So this is where you stay? It's so-" She broke off with a squeak when she saw James, eyes widening, then looked back to Orion and asked in a slightly-too-loud whisper. "Is that your roommate?" When he nodded, her eyes flashed back to James, studying him closely for a minute. "He is cute!" She confirmed, causing Orion to blush and look away in an attempt to hide the mortified expression on his face. "Uh, Steph-" He cleared his throat awkwardly, but she just waved off his embarrassment with a flap of her hand, and elbowed him sharply in the side. "Introduce us, you chop!"
"Oh, right..." He cleared his throat again, struggling to compose himself, and mumbled, "Steph, this is James, my roommate."
"I'm his sister." Steph provided with a grin.
"Foster sister."
She scowled at his tone, rolling her eyes, and retorted, "Tomato, tomato. We're still family."
"Not by blood."
"Oreo." (( )) Her expression darkened, and Orion stiffened visibly. "Can it."
He shrugged haughtily, but even so, he didn't try say another word. Taking that as permission to do as she pleased, Steph began wandering around and investigating their room like a curious puppy, leaving Orion to slink over to his roommate - changing sides as it were - and finally offer him his Mc Donald's meal, which had already started to get cold. "Sorry." He mumbled under his breath, "I ran into her at Mc D's, and I haven't been able to get rid of her."
He looked back to Steph, and saw her standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, sniffing the air. His eyebrows shot up. He'd not seriously believed that she was a puppy, but now-
"You've been shooting again." She said, looking over at him.
"Mmmhm."
"So, university student by day, crime-fighting superhero by night?"
"What else?" Orion shrugged, keeping a perfectly straight face as he took out his chips, and started eating them. Steph snickered, then hurried over to him and snatched one, popping it into her mouth.
"Hey!" He objected indignantly, pulling the chips closer. "Back off! You've had your breakfast!"
"Sharing is caring, Oreo." She scolded, trying to swipe another chip even while Orion hulked over them like a starved wolf. After a while, she gave up, wrinkling her nose in frustration, and complaining irritably, "Ugh, you never change. And for goodness sake, take off those stupid sunglasses! We're indoors!"
She lunged for his glasses, and Orion ducked away with a whine of objection. Before he could straighten up again, Steph had stolen another of his chips, and she grinned deviously at him as he glared at her, looking as if he wished she would burst into flames.
Totally unabashed, Steph just ignored him, turning her attention again to James. "I don't know how you live with him," She sighed, "When I tried, I had to go in to work most days looking and smelling like a hobo, because somebody always used up all the hot water. With those long showers."  She winked, and flashed a wicked grin in Orion's direction. He just huffed and rolled his eyes, refusing to take the bait. It was obvious what she was implying, but he didn't bother defending himself. He had always taken long showers, but not for the sordid reason that Stephanie implied. Back then, his mind had still been in shambles over losing Luke. In a way, it still was, but with a friend and his studies to distract him, it had become easier to pretend that everything was fine. Back at the Changs' home, trapped in that hellhole, the visions had gripped him nearly every night; the cold feeling of the waves watching around him as he clung to Luke's lifeless body, and the ghostly shadow of the blood on his hands that, no matter how hard he scrubbed, never quite seemed to go away. And yet, though he knew the stains were naught but a phantom of his troubled mind, he could never stop trying to wash them away. Steph didn't know about Luke. Nobody knew... Except for James. 

He remained grimly silent as Steph and James chatted a while longer, until at last Stephanie's cellphone buzzed, and she announced with a wrinkled nose that she had to go and meet with a client. "I'll see you later, Oreo." She said, giving him a quick hug. "Call me if you need anything, okay? Bye James." She smiled, flashing a wave in his direction. Then she turned, and in a swish of her sun dress, she was gone.

James was left with his own thoughts for longer than he had expected after Orion left. He brought out his keyboard and banged out a few notes, stopping only after a stab of pain shot through his wrist. After that, he only played left hand, a slow, sad melody in a minor key. It was a variation from the tune he had created the night that he met Orion, although now the notes were smooth and legato instead of short and choppy. It had been in a minor key before, so he switched it again, this time to A flat minor. It had a traditional rhythm, nothing fancy - he wasn't in the mood for anything more.
After deciding that the music wasn't half bad, he got his notebook and wrote it down continuing to play and write for about a half hour. Then he put his instrument away, knowing that if Orion came back and he was playing, the man would be livid.
So he sat for another fifteen minutes, kicking his feet, distracting his thoughts from the things he needed to think about most. He had photography class tomorrow. Photography and advanced music theory. Those would be good things to go to. Photography would be a break from all of the shit he was going through, and music... Well, that would be a relief in general. Music classes were always his favorite - there was so much to learn.
And that was where Orion found him as he walked in - sitting on his bed, legs hanging over the side, stomach rumbling without relent. His roommate had a woman hanging onto his shoulder, a pretty young lady with short brown hair and cheerful brown eyes. She was pretty tall for a girl, even though she was older than the two of them. She reminded James of Aine in a way, with her sundress and just how happy she was.
James could tell the exact moment that the woman had spotted him - she stopped crooning about the room immediately and started squealing with delight.
"Is that your roommate? He is cute!"
Orion and James blushed at the same time; James because he wasn't used to people calling him cute, especially pretty girls like this one, and Orion for some unknown reason. "Introduce us, you chop!"
"Oh, right... Steph, this is James, my roommate."
"I'm his sister."
"Foster sister."
"Tomato, tomato. We're still family."
"Not by blood."
"Oreo. Can it."
Finally, someone with a family more screwed up than his own. But foster sister? Interesting. James put on a small smile when Steph turned her gaze towards him, and the quickly began going through their things. Orion took the distraction as an opportunity to rush over to James and quickly explain the situation.
The blonde rolled his eyes at the man's explanation but said nothing, even when Steph started poking through James's drawers. Suddenly she stopped and began sniffing the air, glaring pointedly at Orion, asking him about shooting. He listened to the conversation quietly.
Orion liked to shoot? That was interesting. He hadn't noticed the scent earlier this morning, but he hadn't really been functioning properly, and come to think of it, it did smell a little like gunpowder...
"I don't know how you live with him. When I tried, I had to go in to work most days looking and smelling like a hobo, because somebody always used up all the hot water. With those long showers."
She put a special emphasis on the last part, and accompanied by a wink, it was easy to see what exactly she was implying. James couldn't help himself but chuckle. They talked for a little longer about the woes of living with Orion, but he certainly didn't mention accidental kisses in the middle of the evening. Orion didn't seem to be paying attention to them, though, as he was lost in his own thoughts.
After a little while longer, Steph's phone buzzed, and she quickly made off, claiming to have a work obligation. She hugged Orion and waved a short good bye to James before leaving in a swish of white fabric.
When she had gone, James climbed the ladder to his bed again. "She's nice." He said quietly, opening the bag and pulling out his pancake combo breakfast, quickly setting to work on it with the crappy plastic knife and fork they had sent with it. He made a face at the food, careful not to lift his eyes up to Orion's.

After Steph had left, Orion sighed, turning his attention back to his food, and munching defensively on another chip - relieved that he no longer had to protect his food with his life, yet struggling to let go of the habit.
"She's nice." James commented from his bed as he started on his food. Orion paused, glancing up at him, then shrugged and nodded in agreement.
"We only lived together for a year after I arrived, before she moved out," He explained, "But she always treated me kindly, even after Lucy died, which is more than I can say for the rest of them." His expression hardened for a moment. Then, realizing that James looked faintly confused, he explained briefly, "Lucy was our foster mother. Died of cancer when I was in my last year of school. It was a shame," He shrugged, "She was a good person, but I'd only known her a year anyway. Steph moved out after she died, but she's kept in touch with me anyway. I suppose she is kind of family." He shrugged, then unwrapped his burger, and took a big bite. "She certainly tries hard enough to embarrass me." He added as he swallowed, "But yeah. She's nice."
His own openness surprised him, but when he tried to question it, he only ended up shrugging it off. James was his friend, and knew plenty of secrets about him already. What did it matter if he knew a little more? Frankly, be it wise or not, Orion had come to trust that James was unlikely to blab about whatever skeletons he shared just for the sake of it.
"How's the food?" He asked, casually changing the topic back to something superficial, "Sorry, it got a bit cold. We seriously need a microwave in here..." He took another bite of his burger, grumbling when he realized it was half gone already. Mc. Donald's just didn't make their meals big enough any more. Either that, or his appetite had grown as he got older. Probably both.

James continued stuffing his mouth with bits of pancake completely saturated with syrup as Orion explained that they had lived together. He started a little bit when Orion said the name "Lucy", but once it was clear that he wasn't speaking about James's littlest sister, he kind of stopped paying attention. His thoughts drifted away to other things. He thought back to Lucy, hoping that she wouldn't end up like him, or like Tess. They were both screwed up so badly, and despite how much he despised Tess, he wasn't sure which one of them was worse off. At least Tess was happy with how she was living her life...
"How's the food? Sorry, it got a bit cold. We seriously need a microwave in here..."
James nodded absently as he descended down the ladder. "It would make cooking a lot easier." He grumbled, pulling out a can of beer and cracking the top. "And when I say cooking, I mean putting those three minute microwavable macaroni things in there." He chuckled and moved over to his desk, pulling his chemistry notebook out. "What was the homework again?" He murmured, more asking himself than his roommate. After a minute of staring at the page, he decided that his headache was too much for this and that it would be better to just go back to sleep.
James closed his spiral and trudged up the ladder of his bed, leaving the beer on his desk. "Remind me to never drink two nights in a row." He told Orion sourly. "The second hangover is always the worst."

James agreed with him about the necessity of a microwave, saying that it would make cooking easier, then added, "And when I say cooking, I mean putting those three minute microwavable macaroni things in there."
"Oh, naturally."
They both chuckled, and then Orion slurped at his slightly-too-sweet milkshake as he watched James sit down at his desk, staring halfheartedly at his Chemistry notebook.
"What was the homework again?"
"Page 87. Some shit on reversible reactions, I think." He shrugged, but James seemed no more motivated for his efforts. He stared at the notebook a while, then seemed to change his mind. Orion did not blame him. He sure as hell didn't feel like doing homework.
His eyes continued absently tracking James's progress as he headed back to his bed, climbing the ladder and flopping down on his pillows. The poor guy looked exhausted.
"Remind me to never drink two nights in a row." He grumbled as he stared up at the ceiling, "The second hangover is always the worst."
"Deal." Orion took another sip of milkshake, "Just don't get pissed when I take you up on that." He flashed a wink, then drained the last of the horribly sweet, fake strawberry taste, and tossed the empty carton into the bin.
"Right, well, I'm going to the library," He said, standing up and dusting off his hands, "Have a nice sleep, mate."

***

The next week passed fairly uneventfully, for everybody was entirely focused on the upcoming finals beginning the following Monday. Everyone, including a certain Mr. Han Chang who - to Orion's disgust - took the liberty to stop by on Saturday evening while James was off doing... Something. Honestly, Orion couldn't remember where his roommate had said he was going. Whatever the case, it resulted in Orion sitting alone at his laptop when Mr. Chang walked in, his narrow eyes and sharp jawline as harsh as ever.
"What are you doing here?" Orion spat, slamming his laptop shut and standing up abruptly, his shoulders tensed defensively, as though prepared for a fistfight.
"You know very well why I'm here." Mr. Chang replied coolly, "Your finals start next week, and I need to know that my investment is going to pay out. His eyes narrowed further still behind his thin, square-rimmed glasses, and Orion snarled at him.
"I'm not your fu-"
"WATCH YOUR MOUTH, BOY!" The roar was accompanied by a rough, back-handed slap that sent Orion staggering, and he spat out blood onto the floor, his upper lip curling back as he glared up at the tall, Asian man with pure, smouldering hatred.
"You know your place!" Mr. Chang jabbed a threatening finger at him, "I put a roof over your head, provided you with funding for clothes, food and education, and you dare speak such filth to me? Show some respect, you maggot, or I'll make you."
"I'd like to see you tr-"
"Orion!" The finger was back, "You know what I'm capable of. Do not push me." His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered dangerously as he added, "I'm sure my good friend Jeff," (Jeff was chief of the local police force), "would be most interested to find out what really happened to that orphan boy."
Orion staggered back as though struck by a physical blow, and he sounded painfully winded as he gasped, "You fucking bastard!"
With a distasteful huff, Mr. Chang drew back a fist, and struck Orion a staggering punch to the cheek that knocked him sideways into his desk, upsetting a stationary jar and spilling pens onto the floor. He grunted painfully, touching a hand to the rapidly-swelling bruise on his cheek, and looked hatefully back at Mr. Chang, who was casually brushing some dirt of his sleeve. To his credit, Han Chang was still the only man Orion knew who could give somebody a clobbering while still looking as refined and dignified as an English gentleman in the presence of the queen.
He straightened his tie, then smoothed back his hair and cleared his throat as he said crisply to Orion, "You ace these tests, or there will be consequences. You and I both know that you are capable." He spun on his heel, stepping proudly to the door with his hard-soled, Italian leather shoes clicking on the floor. "Disappoint me once more, you little shit, and I'll make you wish you were never born. With that, he pulled the door shut behind him with a loud slam, leaving Orion literally shaking from rage as he nursed the painful bruise on his face, which was rapidly growing to include a black eye. It was all he could do not to dash after his foster father and crack him over the head.
Cursing, Orion pushed away from the desk, nearly slipping on the scattered stationary littering the floor, then made straight for James's beer stash, and helped himself to two cans - one for each hand. James needed to stop drinking anyway, and he had just come up with a perfect solution to make sure he did so: He would deplete the stash himself. Honestly, he felt as though he had no choice. If he wasn't too drunk to move within the next few hours, he was fairly certain he'd end up tracking down Mr. Chang, and killing him. And he didn't like the idea of going to prison.
Shuddering at the thought, he cracked open his first beer, and downed half of it in three deep gulps.

James was in a foul mood from the moment he stepped out of the lecture hall. His photography final had not gone well; he hadn't studied at all, thinking that it would be a breeze. Just memorize all of the terms and artistic styles and junk. But no - there had to be matching specific works to specific artists, and he hadn't known any of that. Guessing was the only thing he could do.
The professor had been passing out extra credit assignments as they'd left the building, a smug smile on her face as if she had known that everyone was going to fail that stupid exam. He had taken the sheet of paper and crumpled it up angrily in his hand before realizing that it was probably in his best interest to actually do it. On the way back to the dorm, he had tried flattening it out again, reading as he walked.
Take a series of photographs of a single subject, animate or inanimate, that show multiple personalities or features.
Well, that would be easy. He could photograph his piano with different backgrounds. Up against the window on a rainy day, shoved beneath his bed, surrounded by beer cans... All of those showed unhappy settings, though. He would need to figure out some other emotions...
When he got back to the room, James was met by an unpleasant smell and the sight of Orion slouched in his chair, with all of James's beer cans scattered around him on the floor - empty.
"I just cleaned up too." He muttered, stalking into the room. There was one can left, thank goodness. Orion hadn't gone that far.
"Hey, kid, wake up." He said gruffly, a little bit louder. He moved a little closer to the sleeping man, and tapped his shoulder a few times. When that didn't wake him, James slapped him lightly across the cheek, no more than a slight tap, although it still felt a little weird. "Why the hell did you just drink almost my entire stash of beer?" He complained. "I really needed that right now." He helped himself to the last can, draining down as much of it as possible. He didn't have any food in his stomach, so he would get a little more drunk than he would have.

Orion literally drank until he passed out, spilling what was left of his last beer onto his chest as he slumped back in the chair, snoring faintly. He was too drunk to even notice the wetness creeping over his skin, and so he slept like a dead man until James returned. Then he was awoken, rather unceremoniously, to a light tap on the cheek that for some reason hurt like hell.
He woke with a grunt, wincing and touching a hand to his cheek to once again feel the bruise that Mr. Chang had given him. Right... He'd forgotten about that.
"Why the hell did you just drink almost my entire stash of beer?" James demanded beside him, taking the last can that Orion had left him, "I really needed that right now."
"You," Orion squinted at the five hazy copies of James drifting around before him, and pointed a wobbly finger at all of them, "need to drink less." He opened out his arms, palms raised, and said with a stupid half-smile, "I'm helping." He said it as if it was the only obvious course of action, then he hiccuped and scratched his head. The world was swaying something awful, but he didn't really care. Usually, for him, getting drunk was a terrible experience, for his sober self would fight the lack of control desperately, frustrated by the dizziness and stupidity that accosted him. Now, however, he was so damn sloshed that his sober self was dead and buried. He could have jumped up and started singing Old McDonald without any qualms at all.
"Whassatime?" He grunted, heaving himself to his feet, then staggering forward. The ground pitched beneath him like the floor of a ship, and after he'd stumbled a few steps and nearly fallen over, Orion collapsed into James, holding onto his shoulder for support and looking faintly seasick. He squinted at his friend, blinking in an attempt to bring him into focus, then he noticed the paper clasped in James's hand.
"what's that?"
He pointed at it, then quickly replaced his hand on James's shoulder when he nearly fell over. Looking around, he saw the desk beside him, and leaned over carefully, stretching out his fingers. As soon as he'd gripped the edge, he began sidling over, then sat down unsteadily on the corner, still looking at James with unfocused, bright green eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair faintly messy in a charming, rugged sort of way. Being drunk suited him, but even so, he was a pitiful sight with his beer-soaked shirt clinging to his chest, and his upper body swaying like a metronome.

James watched as Orion flinched awake more than anything else. He raised a hand to his cheek, scowling at the pain that could not have come from the light touch.James frowned when he saw that Orion's eye was bruised and swelling beyond belief. Already it was a deep purple color, fringes with angry red edges.
Blondie. That was who it had to be, the only one that hated Orion enough to do this, right?
Orion gave him no time to think, however.
"You need to drink less. I'm helping."
The man pointed his finger at James, swaying it around in a way that screamed that he was not in full control - or in any control, rather - of his mental faculties. Then he tried to stand up, and immediately bulldozed into James [[I came in like a WRECKING BAAAAAALL]]. He struggled just to keep standing under all the added weight. It wasn't that Orion was fat, just... big. Muscled. Burly.
"What's that?" Orion asked, glancing downward and narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He lifted a hand to point at the paper - just in case it wasn't obvious enough what she was referring to - but quickly slapped it back onto James's shoulder when he started tipping again.
After a moment, the man shuffled over to the desk and perched on the corner, swaying the a willow branch in a thunderstorm, all with a stupid grin plastered onto his face and unfocused eyes. The green irises were just as beautiful as ever, but less compelling now that they weren't focused on him with such intensity.
"Come on, man, we need to do something with this. You're going to catch pneumonia... or something like that." James gesture to the soaked shirt clinging to Orion's chest. The sight disgusted him - he hated all fluids in anything that was not a closed container.
James moved over to Orion's drawers and began rifling through them, looking for a shirt. He skipped over the boxer drawer quickly and hoped that the blush on his face wouldn't be noticeable when he returned. The next drawer contained shirts, much to his relief. He turned around, a black shirt clasped in his hand and moved over to Orion. "Think you can get this on, buddy?" His eyes ran over the injury again, and he could feel his jaw tensing.

"Come on, man, we need to do something with this." James said as he approached him, gesturing to Orion's soaked shirt, "You're going to catch pneumonia... or something like that."
"Huh?" He looked down at himself, noticing the mess he'd made for the first time, and pulled a face. "Aw, man..." He pulled the damp shirt away from his chest, flapping it as though to dry it out, but obviously to no avail. He remained preoccupied with the shirt while James rifled through his drawers, which was probably just as well, since he probably would have been annoyed about the invasion of his privacy if he had in any way retained the mental capacity for annoyance. Judging by the way he was frowning in confusion at his own shirt, that seemed unlikely. 
The soft sound of footsteps marked James's return, and Orion looked up to see his friend holding one of his shirts. He stared at it as though it had been conjured by magic, then looked up again as James asked, "Think you can get this on, buddy?"
"I'm drunk, not retarded."
Rolling his shoulders, Orion grasped the bottom of his soaked shirt, and pulled it clumsily over his head - only getting stuck for a moment when he forgot that he had to lift his other arm in order to free himself. In the absence of the shirt, his bare torso glistened faintly from the damp; toned muscles rippling elegantly beneath his smooth skin. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he threw the shirt at his laundry hamper - causing it to land on his bed some ten meters away - and reached out for the clean, dry shirt that James offered to him. He made a grasp at one of the three copies floating before his eyes, but didn't actually manage to grab it until the second try. Grumbling to himself, he pulled it on and - after some confused fumbling around with the arm and head holes - finally managed to dress himself. "Ah," He breathed, patting his stomach, "That's better. Less soggy." He licked his lips, then stood up abruptly and wobbled to the bathroom, where he leaned over the sink and drank some water straight from the tap. When he straightened up again, wiping his mouth, he felt steadier than before, albeit a very slight difference. He had already forgotten about the paper that he's asked James about a moment ago.
"Where'd you go, anyway?" He asked in a slurred voice as he tripped through the bathroom doorway, making a quick grab for the edge of the desk once more, and pulling himself to safety, "I could've used you earlier." His brow creased, pulling into a bitter expression as he was accosted by the unpleasant memory of Mr. Chang's visit. His foster father never stepped a toe over the line in public. He was a model citizen, and as far as most were concerned, a complete saint. Only those who were close to him knew his true nature, and Orion knew that if he'd avoided being in a room alone with the man, he would also have avoided a painful bruise and a black eye, which he could still feel throbbing faintly even despite his drunkenness.

"I'm drunk, not retarded."
Ouch. James bit back a retort and fought the color rising in his cheeks. Of course he could get his own damn shirt on. He was what, twenty one years old? Even if he was completely drunk, he'd still be able to figure it out eventually.
And figure it out he did, although it took the man a good ten minutes. At first he put it on upside down, then inside out, and then put his arm through the neck hold and tried to fit his head through the sleeve. Overall, it was a very entertaining spectacle, although James couldn't really stop to enjoy it. He tried not to look at the man's chest, gleaming from the leftover beer, tried not to run his eyes over Orion's well muscled biceps, or broad shoulders. With each thought, his cheeks grew warmer and warmer until he thought he was going to explode.
Not gay, not gay, not gay, he repeated to himself. It's just the beer. Always the beer.
Then Orion stumbled into the bathroom, and James hoped desperately that he wasn't about to throw up - the smell would be in there for weeks, unless Aine magically appeared to clean up their mess again. But the sound of the sink turning on alleviated his nerves, and he sat down at his desk, placing his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do? The best thing would be to get Orion to go to sleep, on his side so if he threw up in his sleep, he wouldn't die. And then after he got his roommate safely tucked away...
I'm going to go find Blondie.
As much as he wanted to find the greasy-haired scum, he knew that that would be impossible. Oh sure, he'd be able to find the man. He was probably hanging around some low-life place where the burn-outs went. But the impossible part would be getting his revenge, especially in a place where Blondie had his friends to back him up. James was weak, and he would probably get his ass handed to him. It was so hard being a nerd sometimes...
"Where'd you go anyway? I could've used you earlier."
James jumped; he had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard Orion come back from the bathroom. That was saying something, as drunkeness did not often equate to stealth.
"I had a final." He said, his tone souring. "Besides, I really doubt I'd have been much help in a fight. What happened anyway?" Then he shook his head. "It makes no matter right now; we can do something about it in the morning. You, my friend, need to get yourself up to bed. I don't want you roaming around the room - or, heaven forbid, the entire dorm - in this condition." He gave the man a stern glare and a gentle prod in the stomach towards his bed.

Orion kicked his legs childishly from his spot on the desk as James answered, "I had a final."
"Really? You didn't tell me." In fact, James probably had told him, but Orion's memory was hardly in a sound state. James ignored him.
"Besides, I really doubt I'd have been much help in a fight. What happened anyway?"
"It wasn't a fight." Orion began, "I-" But then James shook his head, and cut him off.
"It makes no matter right now; we can do something about it in the morning. You, my friend, need to get yourself up to bed. I don't want you roaming around the room - or, heaven forbid, the entire dorm - in this condition."
"What condition?" He demanded stupidly, eyebrows raised. Without dignifying such a stupid question with a response, James poked him in the stomach. Before he could stop it, a giggle rolled from Orion's lips - a cutesy, squeaky sound better fitted to a little girl in a tutu than the surly punk that he was. It was so bizarre, so unlike him, that even in his drunk state, he blushed and lifted a hand to his mouth, trying in vain to redeem himself with a clear of his throat, and an awkward, deep chuckle. He would never admit just how ticklish he was, but when he was drunk, it was pretty hard to hide.
His balance lost, he stumbled off the desk, finding his feet, but he did not move toward his bed. "Come on, I don't need to sleep." He told James, "I've gotta, like... I dunno. Study? Eat? There was something. Besides, the night is young." He shrugged, then cast his friend a glance, and added with a devious smirk, "It's kinda cute how much you care, though." He ruffled James's hair in a playful fashion, then stopped, a handsome half-smile still lingering on his lips. Now that he was drunk, the stiff, surly expression on his face had been dispelled for the most part.
Quiet and thoughtful, Orion searched his friend's face, not quite able to place the strange feeling of nostalgia that came over him. Luke, it would appear, had slipped his mind for the first time in years, and yet as he looked into James's eyes - hand still resting lightly on top his head - something in his subconscious was tugging at his heartstrings. With James showing such concern for his well-being, the likeness between him and Luke was stronger than ever. Only this time, Orion did not quite register it. Instead, he was left with an unexpected feeling of fondness for the man before him, and with alcohol running thickly through his bloodstream, he was beginning to consider acting on it.

James was surprised when Orion started giggling; the other man didn't seem like the kind of guy to be ticklish. But then again, he also didn't seem like the kind of guy to be gay. Orion smiled stupidly and sighed when he was done, before stumbling away from the desk, but not toward his bed.
"I've gotta, like... I dunno. Study? Eat? There was something. Besides, the night is young." He protested, making James sigh. Of course he had other "important" things to do.
"It's kinda cute how much you care, though."
James turned away, walking into the bathroom at the last comment. No, no, no, not this now. Not after they'd been ignoring that stupid kiss for so long, no this wasn't okay. He did not want to be called "cute" right then. He just wanted to get Orion into bed - not like that, he thought, shaking his head - and go back to doing whatever he was going to do. Finish his beer, think about his photography assignment that would be due on Friday. He certainly did not want to spend the rest of his evening caring after his drunken roommate.
Quickly, he got a glass of water from the tap and brought it back out, fully intending to dump it over Orion's head if he refused to get into bed - except that would defeat the purpose of them just getting him into a new shirt.
However, James was stopped by the look on Orion's face as they locked eyes. He felt his breath catch in his throat as the man's bright green eyes searched his face, full of wonder and so naive and innocent, so... he couldn't put a word on it. As if he were seeing James for the first time, or something like that.
Swallowing and suddenly extremely self-conscious, he dropped his gaze to the floor and shuffled his feet awkwardly.
"I- I guess you can stay up, then. Just... just don't bother me. I need to study." He turned around and made his way to his bed, bending over and pulling out his piano.

As Orion watched, James's eyes dropped shyly to the ground, avoiding his gaze, and he felt his lips tug into a smile again at the sight. It was obvious how nervous he was making his poor friend, and yet he found it nothing if not endearing to watch James cower away from him, and stammer in a flustered voice, "I- I guess you can stay up, then. Just... just don't bother me. I need to study."
With that, he turned away and walked to his bed, leaving Orion watching him curiously, like a hawk studying its prey. 
His eyes narrowed as James bent down to pull out his piano, and on clumsy feet, he made his way over to his friend's bed. After one failed attempt at vaulting up that nearly landed him on his face, he leaned against it instead, looking down at James.
"You find me a bother?" He asked innocently, "I could help, you know. I may not be much help, but," He shrugged, grinning, "I could help."
His eyes remained trained on James's face, silently urging his friend to look at him. He could see the affect that he had on the man, and though a voice in his head screamed that it was wrong, he wanted to pursue it. Now, for the first time, there was no sense of reason to stop him.
"Is your wrist fine to play now?" He asked, already knowing the answer, yet taking the excuse to brush shoulders with James as he reached out to touch his friend's sore wrist.
'What would you do,' He wondered silently, casting a sideways glance at James through his messy, green-streaked fringe, 'If I kissed you now?'
His fingers responded to the thought, reaching out to brush James's neat hair back toward his ear.
'Look at me.' He projected the thought strongly toward his friend, the intensity in his eyes growing, 'I know that you want this, even if you won't admit it to yourself. If you really don't want this, show me now. Prove it. For I fear this may just be your final chance.'
His heart thumped louder, rushing the alcohol in his blood, and he felt the hot tingling at the tips of his ears spread to the back of his neck, causing a bead of sweat to trickle down his spine. His judgement was clouded, this he knew, but the desire to lavish his affection  on James - to touch his hand, caress his cheeks, and kiss his quivering lips - was rapidly becoming too strong to overcome. There was something in his eyes, his handsome features, even the way he spoke, that touched Orion deeply for reasons that his drunk mind could not quite fathom. He felt as if he'd known the man his whole life, as opposed to a number of weeks.

"You find me a bother? I could help, you know. I may not be much help, but... I could help."
Orion's expression was a mixture of shocked innocence and devilish wickedness.
I know you'd help me... but with what?
Sighing, James set his piano gently on his bed, and the Orion snapped his gaze down to James's arm. "Is your wrist fine to play now?"
If the dark-haired man said anything after that, James had no recollection of it. Suddenly their skin was touching, sparking, sliding. Orion was gazing at him with something, some sort of desire in his eyes, and suddenly the man's hand was reaching his hand up to tuck blonde hair away. The touch felt nice, and he wanted to close his eyes against it, but he knew he dared not. Too much risk in that way.
There was a hungry look in the way that Orion looked at him, forced him to stare. Bright green eyes compelled him to think about what was going on, made it impossible to be distracted or to glance away. The man's face was flushing a deep rose color, although whether it was from embarrassment or his drunken state, James could not tell. He did know that his own face was growing warm, and that was definitely from embarrassment. What was Orion doing? After so long of ignoring that time James got drunk and threw himself at Orion... It seemed as if their roles were reversed now.
What to do?
I should really get him to bed, he thought. See that he just falls asleep - on his side, of course. That way he won't die, the hangover won't be so bad, and I'll be able to keep my heterosexuality.
James knew that he was only moments away from making a mistake that would endanger the rest of his university - and probably beyond - life. The world was not too friendly to gays right then, and it would not be in his best interests to be gay.
But at the same time... he wanted this.
James swallowed nervously, the decision twisting knots in his stomach as he struggled to figure out something to say. Orion's eyes weren't making the task any easier, damn him.
"I-" He stammered. "You- you're drunk, Orion. I know you don't want to do this. You wouldn't do this if you weren't completely hammered."
There, that was a good thing to say. Leaving it open for interpretation. Not necessarily saying he was against anything happening between the two of them - even though he most certainly was - but putting all the responsibility on Orion.
"I'm not going to take advantage of your lust - or whatever the hell this is - now if I know you wouldn't want it when you're sober."
The poor sod probably wouldn't even be able to comprehend what he was saying, though. He sighed and reached a hand up to scratch idly behind his ear; the skin tingled where his roommate had touched it.

James blushed at his touch, and then began stammering, "You- you're drunk, Orion. I know you don't want to do this. You wouldn't do this if you weren't completely hammered."
"Why wouldn't I?" He asked in a low hum, his deep voice purring handsomely as his eyes searched James's face, "Just look at you..." He reached out, then stopped when James spoke again, pulling his hand halfway back so it hovered uncertainly between them. He was torn.
"I'm not going to take advantage of your lust - or whatever the hell this is - now if I know you wouldn't want it when you're sober."
"Let me worry about what I want," he answered with a dismissive flick of his hand, still firmly ignoring the voice in his head that nagged him, reminding him that this was a bad idea. His hand reached out a second time, traced James's hairline, and then cupped warmly around his cheek, holding the man within his gaze. His brows drew together, frowning slightly, as he asked, "What do you want?" His thumb smoothed softly over his friend's soft cheek. "Honestly."

He waited, heart still racing, as he looked deep into the beautiful hazel eyes staring back at him. They took his breath away, and in his foggy-minded state, it was all he could do to hold himself back. That he managed at all was a remarkable feat, and yet he knew - unless James admitted what Orion knew he was feeling - he would not go ahead with what he wanted to do. As much as he longed for his friend, Orion respected him far too much for that. And then there was the lingering uncertainty within himself, which he could not understand. James was a remarkably handsome man, and his best friend. In what way could it possibly be wrong? How could anything be wrong, with those gorgeous eyes looking into his?
Again, he felt a startling flash of Deja Vu.
What am I forgetting...?