Once I got home, I didn't sleep. I layed in bed and thought about what happened, about how I didn't want to go to school, or how I never wanted to see Lou Ellen again.

So, I did what any rational person would do.

I faked a fever.

Step one: Put a thermometer up to a light, then as soon as someone checks on you, put it in your mouth.

Step two: cough a lot and act like a girl on her period.

Step three: insist people at school would catch the cold.

Step four: enjoy your time at home.

This worked for a few days. I'd just sit around and look at my Great Wall of Sticky Notes. Eating was an awesome past time, too. Same with writing fanfiction but you'd have to be a maniac to get that bored, am I right?

I played this little "ha ha, yeah, I'm ill" game for about three days. On the third day, 4:07p.m., I got a visitor.

Damn Will Solace.

It started with a knock on the door that could have easily been Zoë coming to see Bianca for a little PG13 fun. (At least I hoped it was PG13, but I'm not one to snoop.)

I answered the door, ready to give them a note saying 'I'm sick so hurry up and get away.' But, of course, as soon as I saw who it was my heart literally went BOOM!

I guess you never realise how much you care for someone until you're away from them for a while.

"Hey," Will said. His voice sounded like smooth honey flowing from his mouth. "I... I guess I have some explaining to do." He smiled at me.

It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to say, when there were so many unanswered questions. What was that? On that day? My hands seemed to find the perfect question for me.

Will's face slowly fell, his smile dropped. "She... I guess she's the girl I was going to marry some day." He studied my face and quickly added, "If I wasn't gay, that is."

I did the appropriate actions to someone saying "Wait, wait, wait, hold up."

"Yea, yeah," Will blushed a little. "I guess you're free to hate me or whatever, now. I'm here, I'm queer, and your hate is probably severe."

No. That was all that needed to be said/signed right now.

"What?" Will asked. "No, what?"

I didn't feel like explaining. I handed Will the sketchpad he'd made me write a story in, but not before adding a note on the back page: Oh, by the way, I'm gay and you're hot so you wanna kiss or something?

Unfortunately, he didn't flip to the back page, but he did mumble his thanks.

"So," Will said, "I guess you're mad."

I'm not. I swear, I was surprise he was able to see my hands because I signed faster than The Flash could run.

"You're... not mad?" Will looked a little stunned. "Not grossed out, or anything?"

No. I grabbed a slip of paper from the coffee table a few feet away. Flip to the back page of your sketchpad, BUT NOT NOW. Sign lessons first. Follow.

I handed him the paper and went up to my room. Upon entrance, Will's eyes lit up like Chritstmas lights. He was looking directly at the sticky notes on my wall.

They've started to lose their meaning. My hands kind of dropped sadly as I signed. Like the person doesn't care.

Will didn't have a reply, so we took a seat on my bed and the lesson began. Most of the signs were random, nothing in particular. But it was fun, because Will would make a cute little "Yis" every time he mastered a sign.

Eventually, I had run out of signs to teach so we resorted to laying on my bed. Will stared at the roof, and I studied his facial features. The good thing about him staring at the roof is that he didn't see me staring at him.

"Hey, Nico?" Will asked, looking at me. "Is it okay if I look at that back page now?"