Ray woke up the next day—or rather, that same morning—like the ghost of his former self. His brain tended to go apeshit buckwild and kicked into party mode at around two in the morning every night, so he always tried to get to bed by one at the latest (since it tended to take a copious amount of time and effort to fall asleep). And, considering Sora came back from work at three, Ray's brain was still alive, active, and obsessed by its newest recruit: Any And All Topics To Do With Sora Ikeda.

"I can't believe he took me shopping," Ray whispered to himself several hours before he woke up, pacing his bedroom. He had all of the clothes laid out, folded neatly, and stacked into appropriate outfits.

Ray thought this very same thing the next morning when, upon opening his eyes, he lied facing the stacks of clothes. It was the first thing he saw that morning, and while it wasn't an unpleasant view, it certainly was alarming.

Sora had taken him shopping. Shopping! Him!

Ray sat up on the mattress, still bundled in a sleeping bag because he had been too disoriented the night before to properly make the bed. He scratched at his rumpled, black hair with a frown, a scowl, and a gruff grumble under his breath, saying, "Ridiculous."

He crawled out of bed, rolled across the wood floor, and picked up the first stack of clothes at his disposal. After properly dressing for the day, he made his way out of the room and acknowledged the fact that the kotatsu was empty, which meant that, at some point, Sora had woken up and went to sleep in his proper bed.

Ray yawned, taking the steps down to the main living space with light, albeit tired, feet. By then, it was well past the morning and going on noon, which meant that he needed to kick his ass into gear and get to class.

Ray wandered aimlessly to the bathroom door and pushed it open, blinking sleep out of his eyes. He rubbed at them as he reached for his toothbrush. He topped the bristles with toothpaste, dampened it under the faucet, and stuck it in his mouth.

There were some things that Morning Ray simply wasn't capable of dealing with. That morning, as Ray scrubbed his teeth squeaky clean whilst half-awake and bleary-eyed, he encountered something far beyond his current level of mental capacity. Something... mentally scarring, as some might say. And while some scars could be bore proudly, this one certainly wasn't inflicted during one of his finer moments.

Oblivious, Ray stood in front of the mirror and listened to the dreadful squeak of the shower door opening behind him.

He opened his eyes.

Through the fog in the mirror, he caught sight of a mop of messy black hair blurring with the steam, visible just over Ray's shoulder. Ray's eyes flew open wide, all sleep gone when Sora looked up and stilled at the sight of Ray standing there, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, and eyes stuck on the dewey texture of Sora's bare shoulders.

Ray didn't say a damn thing. Sora didn't say a damn thing, looking half-blind without his glasses. The silence was palpable, like the humidity in the bathroom clinging to Ray's rising hair follicles.

Ray spun around, hands scrambling for purchase on the edge of the sink that dug into his lower back. Sora stared at him like some poor animal caught in headlights.

DON'T LOOK! Ray's brain screamed, but he was already staring at It.

"Get out!" Sora screamed in a panic, cupping a hand over his bare crotch.

"Shit!" Ray shrieked when Sora grabbed for a shampoo bottle and slapped Ray across the neck with it. "Sweet Mother of God! Ah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried, slidding out of the bathroom with his toothbrush in hand.

He hit the wall opposite the bathroom door at the same exact moment Sora slammed the bathroom door shut.

Ray had never felt the beat of his heart so prominently before in his life. Each thud felt like a rock against his ribcage as his brain ran in circles around Sora's flaccid penis.

Meanwhile, the shadow of Sora's feet beneath the door perfectly resembled him standing on the other side, his hands braced firmly on the bathroom door. His eyes were wide and wild and he distinctly felt the adrenaline in his system sucking the blood from his skull, leaving him terribly lightheaded.

Sora's shoulders slumped, gasping. Holy fuck, he thought.

Ray spat his toothpaste out in the kitchen sink and gave his mouth a quick rinse while he tried to calm down, well, everything. Fire alarms were going off in his skull. Angry villagers with pitchforks were marching a migraine through his brain. It was only a matter of time before the world ended.

When that was done, the bathroom door clicked open.

Ray's shoulders tensed. He refused to look, but in the reflection on the toaster, he watched Sora's figure glance through the foyer archway before stepping fully into view wearing nothing but a black towel around his waist.

JESUS CHRIST! Ray thought, scrambling for the faucet. He poured himself another glass and chugged it as Sora took the walk of shame to his bedroom and shut (and locked) his door.

The instant the door shut, Ray put an elbow to the counter and his head in his hands. "If I wasn't losing my mind before, I definitely am now," he thought aloud in a whisper, frantic eyes flitting across the counter. He glanced over his shoulder at Sora's door before shaking his head and deciding that he needed to leave now before he was stuck leaving at the same time as Sora.

Unfortunately, they both had that bright idea, so when Ray emerged dressed and sporting his backpack and sneakers, Sora did as well. They glanced at each other at the top of the steps before looking away. Sora stuck his hands in his pockets as Ray cleared his throat awkwardly and squeaked, "Morning."

"Morning," Sora said.

They took a moment of silence for the passing of their sanities.

Ray cleared his throat again. "Sorry. About..."

Sora looked to the ceiling with a sigh. "Don't. Say a word," he stressed, each word more painful than the last. He glanced at Ray, who looked at his feet and nodded, bashfully.

Ray, the little shithead, was wearing an outfit he bought from Forever 21 the day before. Of course, Sora reasoned, de Lucía seemed like the type of guy who didn't bother washing his newly-purchased clothes.

Sora sucked in a deep breath and took a step towards the exit. Ray followed suit, but not until Sora said, "That outfit looks good."

Ray startled, eyes wide. He flattened a hand over his patterned button-up and stammered a quick, "Th-Thanks!" before bounding after Sora. He slowed at the front door, pulling out his keys as he said, "You, um, your—"

"Do me a favor and don't compliment me," Sora said. He glanced at Ray as he opened the front door. His eyes went down to Ray's shirt, pants, and shoes before meeting his eyes and saying, "I was complimenting the clothes, not you."

Sora turned away before he could see Ray's jaw drop through the floor and all the way to China. It took a severe amount of effort, strength, and willpower for Ray to shut his mouth. When he did, all that came out was a flustered, "I—! I wasn't going to compliment you!"

It wasn't Ray's brightest moment, by any means.

Despite that morning scare, Ray's energy levels were inconsistent that day and only continued to plummet on the drive to class. When he came to the theory lecture hall, he was dragging his feet and dreading seeing Sora again in any capacity. Still, he was forced to endure it that day and every day after.

As Ray settled in his seat, brain reduced to mush, he thought about Sora getting out of the shower that morning. Ray never thought to consider that the guy was fit, but holy shit, the guy had a six pack. An Honest To God Six Pack.

Truthfully, Ray had never seen one in person. For one, high school rules restricted him to the women's locker rooms, and for two, no guy in his high school was sporting anything but flat stomachs. They just didn't train that hard for, well, anything.

What the hell is Sora training for then? Ray thought, rubbing a hand over his throbbing forehead. Six packs, from what he understood, were goddamn difficult to acquire. Sora had to be visiting the gym on a daily basis to keep that up, which made Ray wonder even further. Sora was always working! How could he possibly make time for the gym?

"Maybe he's a fitness trainer," Ray whispered, eyes wide. No, that didn't make sense, he reasoned.

"Who's a fitness trainer?" Leo's voice sounded beside him.

Ray startled as Leo dropped his backpack off and collapsed into the seat next to Ray. "N-No one! I just—um, neighbor! Yeah, I've got a neighbor who's, like, super fit."

"Yum," Leo hummed. "Like, bulky-fit or lean-fit?"

"Lean-fit," Ray decided, tapping a finger to his chin. "And he works really weird hours."

"How weird?"

"Night shift?"

"Maybe he's a night nurse."

Both Ray and Leo startled with girlish screams at the sound of Huey behind them. Ray twisted around just as Huey jumped the seat next to him and dropped down.

Huey sighed and braced a hand on his knee, the other on the back of Ray's chair. "I mean, for home nurses. Patients that need round-the-clock care."

"Ooh, that's a good theory," Leo said.

"Yeah, that is a good theory..." Ray hummed, only to shake his head. "Oh, no, that doesn't make sense. I'd be worried if he's a nurse."

"Why?"

"Because he seems..." Ray searched for the right word, humming the entire time. He pictured Sora eating out of a stranger's cabinet in the dead of night like a feral animal with reflective retinas that made his usually black eyes glow in the dark through the glare of his wire-frame glasses. A dreadful shudder coursed down Ray's spine. "Chaotic neutral."

"I can't think of anything else. Maybe he works at a warehouse?"

"That's less cool," Huey chastised.

"It's an honest living," Leo argued, and then Sora entered the room so everyone had to shut up. Sora entering the room was more effective than the professor, who had to audibly silence everyone before class could begin.

After class, it came to Ray's attention that he had plans that weekend. When he, Leo, and Huey gathered together out in the hallway, Huey wrangled them all together and the three of them flocked to where Barry was waiting just outside of the lecture hall, arms crossed and back to the bricks.

Leo immediately groaned, wiggling uncomfortably as Huey squished them all into a huddle and held Leo fast to his side with his arms around Leo's shoulders. Ray laughed as Huey wrapped an arm around him, and, likewise, Barry did the same.

"Alright, this is officially a Bros Meeting," Huey said.

"Gross, ew, no, let me leave now, I beg you," Leo whined, writhing as Barry slapped an arm around Leo's back to keep him in.

"Bros Meeting, dude! Bros only," Barry said. "What are you to us if not a Bro?"

Leo groaned and mumbled, pouting, "Fine, I am a bro..."

"With more conviction!"

"I'm a Bro! There! I said it!" Leo cried, fake-sobbing into Huey's shoulder as Barry chanted quietly, "One of us—one of us—one of us—" whilst parrying left and right and jostling the entire Bros Meeting to and fro. Ray couldn't stop laughing.

"Alright, here's the plan," Huey said, giving them all a shake. "First thing tomorrow, and by first thing I mean 8PM on the dot, we are going out dancing and partying 'cause my favorite band is in town and they're performing. I've already got five tickets so you four are coming with me."

"Alright, I'm in," Barry said.

"I'm in, too."

"This wasn't up for discussion, but I appreciate your affirmation," Huey said.

"What band?" Ray asked, and before Huey could tell him, Leo was saying, "I'm not convinced."

"Fine. You're twisting my arm here—I'm relenting. The venue's a gay strip club," Huey said, and before Ray could retract his confirmation, Leo shrieked, "Ooh! I am so in now!"

"Wh-What do you mean, a strip club?" Ray stammered, horrified. "I've never even been to a club before!"

"Oh, San Fran's got tons," Leo insisted. "Usually we just go to the vanilla ones—like, the ones you're supposed to bring your straight friends to."

"But this is the real deal," Huey said.

Barry winced a little and gave Ray a reassuring pat on the back. "Trust me, we don't make a habit of going to strip clubs. My bank account couldn't take it."

"Are... you guys really into that sort of stuff?" Ray asked, eyebrow raised. As soon as he said it, the Bros Meeting started to fade. Huey gave Ray one last pat on the back and stepped ahead, and Barry followed. Ray's confidence shriveled up. Maybe he shouldn't have questioned it. He wanted to make friends, right? But he was only eighteen! Would he even be allowed at the club?

Leo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and said, "Dude, don't worry about it! It's all about, like, empowerment and sexuality and watching guys get naked on poles. Well, mostly naked. They've always got those thongs on so it's not even, like, fully stripping. It's just sort of—Yeah, okay, I'll shut up now. But seriously, it's not a big deal."

Ray felt dizzy. "Aye yai yai, my aunt would have a hernia if she found out I went to a strip club," he said.

Leo shrugged and said, "Get cash from an ATM today and she'll never put two-and-two together."

Ray sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Barry and Huey were fooling around on the lamp post a few paces ahead, trying to see who could hold themselves up by their bare arms the best. "I don't know... I gotta go grocery shopping this weekend so I can meal prep... This week took a lot out of me. You know I've been living off of Dominos Pizza all week?"

"No kidding. But I seriously doubt you'll be grocery shopping at eight tomorrow. Just get it done in the morning, cook on Sunday!"

Ray sighed and bregrudgingly admitted that he'd at least try it.

And, so, the following day Ray woke up at exactly three in the afternoon after spending the entire previous night binging a Netflix show whilst letting his stomach slowly combust its lining due to malnutrition. He felt like the dead and acted like it when he emerged from his bedroom groaning in agony.

Sora had spent that entire afternoon relaxing at the kotatsu sipping coffee when Ray burst in like that. He looked up and watched Ray slump to his knees at the top of the steps and collapse on his hands.

Sora refrained from asking if everything was okay and instead sipped his coffee. In the next instant, all his questions were answered.

"I didn't get to sleep until five," Ray groaned, collapsing onto his side. "I'm so hungry... and tired..."

"Then you shouldn't have gone to sleep at five in the morning," Sora said.

"And my friends want to go out dancing tonight, too..."

"I reiterate my previous statement," Sora hummed against the rim of his cup. When Ray didn't move, looking like a dead dog atop the living room stairs, Sora sighed and said, "There's coffee in the press."

"Oh, thank God," Ray said, dragging himself upright. Sora had never seen hair ascend like that before in his life, but there Ray was, with a thick head of black hair sticking straight up off the top of his head with little prompting.

As Ray pulled a mug from the cabinets, he sighed, shoulders and morals slumping. He pouted a little and glanced over his shoulder at Sora, who wasn't paying attention to him. Instead, Sora was on his computer, arms crossed beneath the kotatsu.

Ray sighed again, this time with more gusto, and gave it a little hint of desperation that prompted Sora to glance uneasily at him. Ray rubbed a finger idly on the countertop and sighed again.

Whatever. I guess I'll take the bait, Sora thought to himself. "What's the problem over there. You don't like my coffee?"

"I haven't even tried it yet," Ray pouted, sniffing a little.

Sora rolled his eyes. "Then what's the fucking issue."

Ray took his coffee with him to the kotatsu where he slumped dramatically to the floor and huffed, "It's just—I can't tell if I'm too prude or my friends are being too demanding of me."

What the fuck? Sora thought, raising an eyebrow at Ray. Ray needed no more prompting—he just kept going.

"We're going to a... a concert tonight and it's... at a place I've never been to before and it kinda makes me uncomfortable."

Sora blamed his numbness to the situation on his exposure, because his stupidity was showing through. "Then don't go."

"But—you don't get it. It's hard being a transfer student," Ray insisted. "Especially since I'm not in the dorms. And everyone's already got their friend groups! I jumped in late. I feel like I gotta do whatever they're doing to, like, stay relevant."

"Well, where's the venue?" Sora said, putting his coffee mug to his lips.

Ray sighed, looking out at the window as he said, wistfully, "It's at this strip club called Bandaids."

Sora started choking immediately.

"I know! My thoughts exactly!" Ray cried, frantic. "Do freshmen always go to strip clubs?"

Sora cleared his throat before coughing into his closed fist and holding it there to his lips, eyes closed. It took several moments for him to collect himself and rasp, "Fuck no, freshmen don't go to strip clubs."

Ray groaned dramatically all over again, slumping against the floor. "But all my freshmen friends are going! I mean, I don't have many friends, but still!"

Sora wished the ground would consume him then and there and free him from this conversation so he could get his shit in order. For one, this not only confirmed that people from his class would be there, but it also confirmed that his roommate would be at his place of work—while he was working. He wasn't sure which scenario was worse.

They were all equally damning.

Sora's brain was running down several tracks as he thought of a counter response to Ray. He needed the cash—he knew what strippers made at concerts and that shit was good money, enough for a deposit at a new place—so he really didn't want to bail on Ambrose tonight.

Perhaps he could dig through his wig stash, maybe. He didn't have many and it would be easier to perform stunts in a wig that fit well. His longer wigs didn't really do it—they sometimes slipped when he wasn't right side up—but a longer wig would cover his face more. Maybe he could convince Ambrose to let him do crazy makeup, or maybe even wear a mask? Maybe he could convince all of the dancers to wear masks so he wouldn't stand out—

"Say," Ray said, breaking Sora from his thoughts. "My friend's got five tickets and there's only four of us. Would you wanna come with?"

"I can't," Sora said.

"Oh. Working?"

Yes, he almost said, but that wouldn't give him a good enough alibi. "I've... got a date tonight."

The alibi was so incredibly weird to say out loud. It went against all of his habits he constructed at work—dating meant that he made himself seem unavailable to patrons. Being unavailable to patrons made them tip him less.

But dates felt more concrete than plans with a friend. A date was less... flexible. A date meant reservations, maybe, or going to a movie that would be out of theatres soon, or an event that was only happening that night.

Yes, it was a good alibi.

Meanwhile, Ray felt immensely proud that he managed to not sound dejected as he said, "Oh. That's okay. And I know you don't want us to, like... hang out together outside of the apartment so—"

"We aren't even hanging out now, dude," Sora said, voice snappier than he intended. Fuck, that was rude, Sora thought, passing a hand through his hair. He pushed away from the kotatsu and stood up, taking his laptop with him. "Have fun tonight, or whatever."

Ray swallowed hard against the immense frustration of having such an intolerable roommate. "Okay," he said. He watched Sora walk off before remembering his plans for that day. "Oh! Wait—I'm going grocery shopping later. Do you want me to pick you up anything, since I've got a car?"

Thankfully, Sora already had a list and money set aside for it. "Uh, yeah, hang on," Sora said, already halfway to his room. He opened and shut the door behind him. After setting his laptop on his bed, he sifted through his tip money from the previous night and pulled a twenty from the pile. He wiped it down on his pant leg—not that it would do much—and took his list back to Ray.

After escaping back to his room, Sora spent a minute with his back flat against his bedroom door, heart pounding in his chest. Get it together, he told himself, Ray's never even seen you naked.

His memory flashed back to that morning.

Sora put his hands in his hair, screaming internally. SHIT, HE'S SEEN ME NAKED BEFORE, he screamed, closing his eyes in horror. Sure, he could wear a wig and makeup, but that didn't change the fact that Ray might recognize his body.

How could he change that?

A tattoo, he immediately thought, only to curse again. He paced the room, thinking to himself about every method of tattoo he could do on short notice without it rubbing clean off on a pole tonight.

He only saw my front, so it needs to be on my torso or something, he thought, rubbing at his shirt. Sharpie doesn't smear once it's dry, right?

He Googled it.

Sharpie wasn't an option—however, pen wasn't a bad idea if he could find something waterproof.