TW: Transphobia, slurs, violence in the second half of the chapter

a/n: Why do I always make drama, like... TOO intense??

Sora spent all of work in the presence of nameless men and women. There was a bachelorette party that night in the VIP section and two private sessions in, Sora felt like the music just wasn't sitting right with him. It felt like he was at a club and didn't know any of the songs, the lyrics—none of it.

None of it was working for him when his brain was working around the clock, thinking about Ray-fucking-de Lucía.

Sora went to the bar for another shot and there, he found Ambrose sitting with one foot propped up on the spokes of a stool, sipping a gin and tonic. Sora sighed dramatically as he came to stand beside Ambrose, and when he sighed again, Ambrose rose an eyebrow at him.

Sora pouted like he did for customers. Ambrose rolled his eyes and raised a hand out to flag David down.

"Tough night?" Ambrose asked.

"Sort of," Sora said, hand on his hip. "I just did a vibe check and—"

"This night just isn't making the cut, huh," he concluded, and Sora conceded with it.

David arrived, the makings of a Malibu and coke in his hands. He poured the glass and slid it over to Sora, who took one sip and offered a thumbs up as compensation. David put a hand on his hip and glared at Ambrose, and Ambrose tipped him for Sora's sake.

David took the cash with a huff and shook it at Sora, saying, "Just 'cause you're lovesick doesn't mean you don't tip a man."

"Lovesick?" Ambrose repeated, an eyebrow raised.

Sora narrowed his eyes and said, "And how would you know if I'm 'lovesick'? I've got a pretty stellar RBF, dude."

"Yeah, and no one comes to my bar sighing like that unless they're lamenting a loved one," David said.

"We're in a strip club," Sora cried, indignant. "I can sigh however I want!"

"Yeah, and do it around people who'll pay for it. Now skedaddle, hotshot," David said with a snap of his fingers, and Sora groaned, lifting his drink from the bar.

Ambrose took an idle sip of his gin before swiveling around in his chair to watch Sora walk off. "Feel free to take a night off—there's no shortage of replacements."

"Is that a subtle indication that you can kick me to the curb whenever?" Sora said, turning back to him with a hand on his cocked him.

"It's just me saying that some nights are better spent at home watching Netflix. And please, Silver—as if I could replace you," Ambrose said and with that, turned back around to prop his elbow up on the bar and pretend he hadn't just thrown Sora for a loop.

Sora made a mental tally of his profits that evening and, in the mental math of figuring out groceries and rent, decided that he could afford to spend the rest of the night at home. Thank God for bachelorette parties, he thought as he left to the back room and busied himself with changing and packing away any used lingerie from that evening.

As he waited for his Uber to arrive, his mind was back on the same path as before, the one that made every song feel off-beat and the lyrics gibberish.

Of the things he expected Ray to do, kiss him certainly wasn't on the list.

Sora put a thumb to his bottom lip, the edge of a smirk tugging at them. If I knew he'd do that, I wouldn't have even needed espresso for tonight, he thought, still buzzing with energy. The root cause of it all was Ray's unexpected kiss.

Meanwhile, long after Xavier left to catch meal times at the athletic dorms, Ray could be found pacing his apartment in a frantic tizzy.

"What happened to liking Xavier! Oh, God, why did I have to do that?!" Ray cried, exasperated with himself. Even he found his brain confusing—he could only imagine what Sora was thinking, or even what Xavier was thinking. He was two steps too close to being a slut and that just wouldn't do—not for the energy he was gunning for. Kissing his roommate was off limits. That sweet, soft boy driving to San Francisco on his own for the first time wouldn't do such a thing like this!

It made him insufferably tingly inside in ways he couldn't comprehend. He stood in the middle of the living room, lips tingling from the memory of kissing Sora two times over.

He burned like the flames of a bonfire crackling over kindling.

Perhaps he did like Sora more than he anticipated...

The fire in his heart popped with a startling shock the moment he heard the lock on the front door turn. It didn't occur to him that Sora could come home any earlier than midnight, but there he was, trapped in the middle of the apartment with Sora walking in the door at eleven-goddamn-thirty.

Ray yelped, looking for an escape. He could always go to his room, but he had done that every day this week, and he was sick of running. Still, the thought of facing Sora after the Café Incident nearly pushed him to the brink of cardiac arrest.

They stared at one another down the length of the foyer hallway, their eyes widening at the realization that fuck, now they had to talk to one another.

"I-I can explain!" Ray squeaked, like he was just caught standing over Mr. Windham's body, drenched in his blood. He would have stashed the gun by then—but we can strike the from the record, your honor, since it was speculation and—

Wait, he thought, why am I on trial again? This isn't Legally Blonde!

The door shut behind Sora. He stepped out of his shoes, his duffle over one shoulder. Ray sucked in a sharp breath, hands grappling for anything—anything!—that might help him now. "I-I thought it might be suspicious! Yeah, if you asked and I didn't, um, k-kiss you, so I just—"

Sora tossed his duffle aside and approached Ray in the middle of the living room, saying, "Oh, is that it?"

Ray blushed, eyes wide. "Y-Yeah, that's it. Didn't want to... seem suspicious."

Sora's eyes scanned his, and then dipped lower. Ray became aggressively aware of the fact that he was biting his lip. He quit biting it immediately, but by then, the focus was already there, and fuck. He was looking at Sora's lips. Stop looking at his mouth, that's weird! he thought to himself, and looked further down instead. STOP LOOKING AT HIS CROTCH—

"If you're trying to convince him that we're in a relationship," Sora said, and Ray's eyes were caught on Sora's again, "then you should learn how to actually kiss."

Ray's heart stopped in his chest just to throw its head back and scream, GOD, YES, PLEASE. Instead, however, he merely said, voice cracking to a higher octave, "That, um—That makes sense."

The edge of a smirk tugged at Sora's lips. "Do you want me to show you how it's done?" he asked, taking a step closer, so Ray could smell the cologne on Sora's clothes and the tinge of the club still on his skin.

He sucked in his breath and wondered if Sora could tell what he ate for dinner that night, or maybe that he wears Old Spice deodorant. Sora seemed like the type of guy who wore Dior.

"Y-Yeah," Ray whispered, his eyes the size of the moon.

"You sure?" Sora asked, and Ray swallowed hard at the sound of Sora's voice pitched lower, quieter, like they were in a room filled with people and Sora wanted nothing more than to stand there and ask Ray if they could smash their lips together.

Ray nodded quickly.

Sora pushed even closer, and Ray's skin tingled at his hip where Sora's hand brushed down to hold him. He stood perfectly still, even as Sora said, "Okay. Close your eyes and hold still. Consider this your first demonstration."

Ray's lips parted, his breath held on his tongue which fell mere centimeters from Sora's lips as their mouths closed together. Ray's eyes closed like they did when he put flowers to his cheek and breathed them in. He did just that, inhaling sharply through his nose as Sora's lips followed through with the motion of gently coaxing Ray towards him. Their chests touched, and Ray held still against him as he memorized the texture of Sora's lips on his.

Sora's free hand cupped Ray's neck, cradled his jawline, before his fingertips grazed beneath Ray's chin as he pulled away.

His eyes fluttered open. He breathed again, staring at Sora's irises as a naïve awe overcame him. Sora's accidental morning kiss and Ray's quick peck didn't feel anything like that.

Was that my first kiss? Ray thought, puzzled, muddled, and all levels of overwhelmed.

"How did that feel?" Sora asked, his hand leaving Ray's waist. Ray had his hands against Sora's chest, unknowingly, and immediately jerked them back.

He passed his hand over his neck where Sora's fingers had held him. Definitely my first kiss, he thought to himself, eyes flitting everywhere but Sora as he considered what he had thought was his first.

When Sora called him Robin.

Shit, he thought, eyes wide. Doesn't he like Robin? Why would he—?

"Do you... like me?" Ray asked, quietly.

Sora startled with a laugh, leaning back on his heels. "I think you know the answer by now. But if you need me to spell it out for your—then yes, I do."

"But—" he started, cheeks red.

Sora raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Doubting my feelings? Would another demonstration convince you or perhaps—" As Sora took a step towards him, Ray squeaked and hurried towards the kitchen, away from Sora's outstretched arms.

Sora let his hands drop to his sides. He watched after Ray, who busied himself with hauling the dirty pot from the stovetop, saying, "I, um, I made more food! Yeah, and since you seemed to like the chicken I made last week I made extra for you. I put your name on the container in the fridge so, um, that's for you. I'm thinking about going grocery shopping again soon so just let me know if you need anything—"

Sora sighed. He supposed he didn't expect anything less, and it'd take time before Ray could fully process it. Besides, they lived together. It was bound to be uncomfortable at the start, but he couldn't deny that the kiss had certainly melted away some of the awkward tension in the air. If only he could just—He wasn't sure.

Perhaps showing physical affection isn't the right route so soon after... he thought to himself as he headed back to the hallway to fetch his duffle. As he threw his clothes in the wash, Ray cleaned up in the kitchen

For a brief moment, Sora wondered what would happen if he walked out of the foyer wearing the lingerie he wore for work that day. The idiot would probably pass out, Sora thought, judging from the way Ray had ogled at him even before he realized who the dancer was on stage.

They night ended quickly for the both of them. With Sora's laundry in the washer, he retired to his room to finish his readings for the next day and, with Sora out of the shared space, Ray finished cleaning and disappeared into his room for the night.

As Ray shut his bedroom door, he stood for a moment to assess the damage. Or rather, the reaction he unknowingly had to Sora's early arrival home that night. In spite of his awkwardness, the hopeful romantic in him was positively tingling. He pressed a hand to his sore cheek, trying to stop himself from smiling and failing tremendously at it.

He put a hand in his hair and laughed to himself. "Well, that'll take some getting used to," he thought aloud before biting his lip, shutting his eyes, and breaking into a little victory dance. He thrust his fists in the air and if he could have screamed "Fuck yeah!" he would have.

But alas, he shared a wall with Sora, and that just wouldn't do.

It would take an enormous amount of willpower for Ray to sleep that night, especially when all he could thing about was that damn kiss. He smiled to himself, huddled under the blankets, and could be found, beaming, in the morning when his alarm chimed and the new day began.

Or rather, instead of his alarm, he was awoken by the ding of an alert on his phone.

Ray pushed himself up onto his elbow, reaching across the mattress to fetch his phone. He turned it over and squinted at the notification. His brain stopped entirely at the title.

Student Housing Services.

He stared at it a moment longer before leaping forward with a start. He kicked his blankets off, eyes wide, and scrambled to open the email.

This was what he was waiting for, wasn't it? Sure, having an apartment was fun and all, but when it came down to it, the freshmen year experience circled around dorm life. It was why he put his name on the waitlist to begin with, and was also why he was quick to read through the email with bright, attentive eyes. If he didn't respond soon enough, he might miss this chance.

"'We have an opening for one in a two-person dorm at Carmichael Hall. If you'd like to claim it, call or visit the student services desk in the Carmichael lobby. We've contacted several other waitlist applicants, so please—'" He couldn't read the rest of it, not when he was balancing on one foot to get his damn jeans on so he could get out the door.

Ray skidded out of the room, grabbing his backpack and guitar case as he went. He pulled the straps of his backpack on, guitar swinging at his side as he haphazardly stepped down to the middle of the living room before realizing that the bathroom light was on, and Sora's shadow was in the hallway.

He came to a screeching halt.

A sick, plummeting sensation grew in the pit of his stomach.

It hadn't occurred to him until that moment that scoring a spot in the dorms meant moving out and leaving Sora behind. Sora, who could maybe, possibly, almost afford to live in this apartment alone, but who knew for sure? Ray certainly didn't, and that uncertainty turned into a grumbling pit of guilt that dampened any excitement he had for hearing about the dorm opening.

Ray strangled the strap on his guitar, frowning down at the ground. He didn't stop to think about what it felt like to live with Sora until that moment. He didn't think to consider how his stupid sleep schedule had him anticipating Sora's late-night returns—even when he chose to hide for those occasions, he couldn't deny the relief he felt every time Sora came home. He didn't think to cherish every time he got to greet Sora at the door, or think to smile at all of Sora's teasing and coarse habits.

He just didn't think about it.

He didn't think about how much he liked living with Sora.

Stop it, he told himself, shaking his head. His mind went back to the kiss, and what it all meant for their relationship as roommates. You can't live with someone you might end up dating!

Would Sora even be interested in me if we didn't live together? he thought.

Perhaps it was all convenience for Sora.

This thought alone steeled Ray against everything else. Even if he liked living with Sora, he couldn't deny the perfection of it. The coincidence that even led to Sora liking him in the first place. Sora never would have been interested in me if we didn't live together, he told himself, and kept walking.

As Ray passed the open bathroom door, Sora straightened over the sink from washing his face. He caught sight of Ray out of the corner of his eye as he grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his face. He went to the edge of the bathroom to say, "Good morning."

Ray slipped on his shoes and said, "Morning!"

"Leaving so early?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've got, uh, an appointment! Yeah, so I gotta get to campus straight away," Ray said without looking back. He swung the door open, keys in hand, and said, "Bye!"

Sora rose an eyebrow as Ray made his escape. He sighed. Back to hiding, he thought, and decided that he wasn't an idiot. He could tell when a person needed boundaries, so he wouldn't push it.

It took only ten minutes that morning for Ray to drive to campus, and another five to park his car. It wasn't quite as busy that morning as the midday rush he was used to. He took his guitar with him with every intention of serenading Leo at class that afternoon, or maybe practicing in the studios. He did like the idea of composing again, especially when he could hear Sora's simple piano piece trilling in his head and sending him spinning in front of Carmichael Hall.

He bounded up the steps, humming under his breath as he came to the doors and caught sight of Huey making his way to the exit for class. They crossed between the two sections of doors and Huey gasped with delight.

"Ray! What're you doing here?" Huey said, tackling Ray in a hug.

Ray giggled, cheek smushed against the guy's chest. "There's an opening here and I was on the waitlist. I did get an apartment 'cause the dorms were full, so I figured I'd check it out. Meet a potential roomie."

"That'd be so awesome if you lived here!" Huey said, and Ray couldn't deny it. It would be nice. Ray wasn't exactly an athlete, but he could picture Huey and the other track kids wreaking havoc across the dorm corridors. It'd be amazing to be able to walk a few floors down and knock on a friend's door.

Huey released Ray in a hurry, gasping, "I gotta get to class! I'll text you later, all right? Let me know how it goes!"

"Okay!" Ray promised, waving farewell and watching as Huey vaulted down the steps from Carmichael Hall and onto the campus sidewalks.

Ray went to the front desk and inquired about the room. They took his name down and found it on the waitlist. The student worker gestured across the lobby and said, "The RA will be down shortly. There's another student here—you can wait with them at the security door."

"Okay, thank you," Ray said, smiling wide.

Before he could make his way to the dorm's security door, caught sight of it opening, and startled at the familiar face emerging from it. He really shouldn't have been surprised—it was the athletics dorm, anyway.

Xavier stepped out, the strap of his backpack over one shoulder, and his hoodie unzipped over a marathon t-shirt. He let the door shut behind him before looking up and catching Ray's eyes.

Ray raised a shy hand in greeting, and Xavier smiled.

"Hey, ¿qué estás haciendo aquí?" he asked, crossing the lobby and the columns that flanked the hallway and the windows overlooking the street.

Ray passed his hand through his hair and said, "There's, uh, an opening. I tried getting into the dorms this semester but it didn't work out."

"Yeah, it's pretty cutthroat. I barely got my room, now that I think of it," Xavier confessed, smiling sheepishly out at the windows. He glanced back at Ray, and they both laughed. "Hey, maybe I was the reason you got waitlisted."

"Maybe. But you're here on scholarship—they probably prioritize those students."

"Maybe. Unless they'd prefer students paying several grand a semester so they can pay for less shitty food," he said, and Ray laughed. "Nah, no está tan mal. You know what floor you'd be on?"

"Not really," Ray confessed. "To be honest, I didn't really scour the email. I just woke up and flew here once I got the notification."

Xavier tipped his head, a curious look on his face. "Scour?" he repeated, and Ray translated it. "Ah, bueno, no te culpo. Éste edificio está... especialmente bello en comparación con los demás."

They wandered down the hallway together until Ray spied the benches along the window, and the person sitting beyond the cover of the decorative columns.

He paused at the sight of the other student, who had to be the one the student worker mentioned. He realized coming second would already put him at a disadvantage for getting the dorm, but he didn't expect his competition to be familiar—

—and wholeheartedly terrifying.

Ray skidded to a halt, eyes wide. Xavier was talking until that moment, and his voice faded away to the fringes of Ray's mind to make room for unadulterated terror.

He recognized that guy, who was sitting with his feet on the bench, his eyes out the window. He recognized that guy from community college, specifically, one of the many occasions Ray didn't feel quite as safe as he should. He had chalked it up to paranoia and nerves of being a freshmen until guys at his dorm dug up evidence that Ray had very much looked fem at one point and put two and two together.

Ray clutched Melvin 2.0 to his chest and turned away, eyes frozen on the opposite wall, just past Xavier's shoulder. "I, um, I should go," he whispered.

His nerves turned his fingers to static. He didn't feel real. It felt like his personality had floated off with his soul into the stratosphere. He regretted bringing Melvin 2.0 with him and wished he would have left his guitar in the car—or, better yet, back at his dorm where people couldn't throw it out windows. Why did he think it was a good idea to cart Melvin 2.0 around like this?

Of course there would always be another person wanting to throw his precious guitar out a window—or maybe even him out a window.

"Why? I thought you were checking out the dorms," Xavier asked, and Ray flinched. He wished Xavier would have said it in Spanish, otherwise the guy at the window wouldn't have caught on that Ray was there to see the same dorm as him.

Ray started to walk away just as the guy leant forward, head tipped, trying to see Ray's face. "Well, if it isn't the tomboy."

"Leave me alone, Nick," Ray said, instinctively. Last semester, he wouldn't have imagined telling the guy off, but he grew spoilt by the innate understanding in his major.

Nick stood up to follow, and Ray walked faster until he caught wind of Nick saying, "Oi, let me through, Valentina. I've got a bone to pick with the tranny."

Ray had expected Xavier to follow him, but instead, when he looked back, Xavier had stopped Nick with a hand on his chest. "What did you just call him?" Xavier said, and it sent a cold shudder down his spine.

Holy shit, Ray thought, eyes just as wide as Nick's double-take. "Do... Do you two know each other?" Ray asked.

Nick stepped back from Xavier, stance just as broad as his shoulders as he looked Xavier up and down and said, "Yeah, you could say that. You know this kid, Valentina?"

Xavier didn't look back, his hand still raised as if to tackle Nick if he took another step. "He's a discus thrower for the track team," Xavier explained to Ray.

That means Nick's been around since the start of the semester, he thought, his grip on his guitar tightening. I could have run into him all this time and didn't know it. Why would he transfer?

"You gonna answer my question?" Nick asked, gesturing to Ray, who resisted the urge to cry on the spot—just barely.

"Yeah," Xavier said. He took a step towards Nick, who turned wary and grimaced when Xavier slapped an arm around his shoulders and said, "Outside."

He walked Nick past Ray, who looked between them and the door and decided that the thought of living on campus now nauseated him beyond belief. He chased after Xavier and Nick, his heart racing in his chest. They passed the front door and the lobby desk on the way to the emergency exit out back, and at the door, Xavier nudged it open and pushed Nick out ahead of him.

Before Ray could follow, Xavier barred his exit with a hand against the doorframe and leant close to ask, "¿Cómo conoces a éste tipo?"

Ray swallowed hard, his fingers still numb. "Él, um, solía vivir conmigo en los cuartos de la universidad en la que estuve el semestre pasado."

"Sí, y dime porque estás tan pálido ahora mismo."

Ray looked at his feet and said, "P-porque lanzó mi guitarra por la ventana."

Xavier said nothing. After a moment, he stepped through the door and the brief moment he held onto it gave Ray the clear to sneak out with him. The door banged shut after them and Ray would have walked straight into Xavier's back had Nick not spoken up.

"Looks like you've got someone to hide behind now, huh ☐☐☐☐?" he said, stepping back towards the dumpsters and the landing for food drop-offs for the dorm dining hall. He hopped up the steps, casually, like Xavier wasn't glaring daggers at him all the way.

"Why did you transfer here?" Ray asked despite himself and the way his voice shook.

"Certainly not because you're here, bitch. Don't flatter yourself," he said.

Ray went bright red, all of the heat in his body consolidated in his forehead where his frown had etched lines into his skin.

"Follow me," Xavier said, walking ahead down the asphalt slope away from the dumpsters. Ray glanced at Nick, who hopped from the platform block and landed heavily on the concrete. Ray jerked away, all but jogging after Xavier as questions swarmed in a flurry in his brain.

Did he get a scholarship like Xavier? Ray wondered, but no, even if Nick was an excellent discus thrower, he still needed half a braincell to keep his GPA up.

Where are we going? he thought as Xavier walked around the corner of the brick building. They were on one of the back sidewalks that cut between buildings rather than streets.

Why are we out here?

What's going on?

Why can't I feel my fingers?

Ray rubbed his hand against his face to try and bring life back to them. After turning the corner, Xavier slung his backpack off of his shoulders and tossed it to the asphalt several paces down. Ray was shaking so terribly and was so on edge that when Nick made the turn and Xavier grabbed him by the front of his shirt, Ray let out a startled shriek.

Xavier jerked Nick forward. In his surprise, Nick did nothing to retaliate until Xavier had him pinned against the brick wall. Nick put his hands up and said, "Whoa dude, you really wanna risk it all like that?"

"No," Xavier said, and Ray snapped his mouth shut, his fingers trembling over his lips. Sure, Xavier could manhandle Nick all he wanted but if the guy went crying to administration, Xavier could kiss his scholarship goodbye. Xavier glanced around them and said, "This is where athletes at Carmichael go to smoke. You wanna know why?"

"Humor me," Nick scoffed, grinning.

Xavier leant in close and hissed, "No cameras," before swinging his fist back and cracking it across Nick's face.

Nick staggered to the side, skidding across the brick wall as Ray leapt in horror and amazement. He had never seen someone actually get punched before, and witnessing it firsthand only amplified the feeling in Ray's gut that none of this was real and none of this was happening. He wasn't actually seeing Nick again, and he wasn't actually seeing Nick straighten, blood smeared under his nose, as he hissed, "And here I thought you were a little bitch, Valentina," before grabbing at Xavier's throat.

Xavier ducked back, skirting away from the edge of the building. Nick chased after him, grabbing him by the arm and heaving him forward. Ray tripped back, yelping when Xavier twisted his arm up and looped around behind Nick. He shoved Nick's arm behind his back and slammed him into the wall, pinning his cheek to the brick with his hand fisted in Nick's black hair.

Nick rammed his elbow back against Xavier's stomach. Xavier cursed just as Nick hooked his foot around Xavier's ankle and tugged. Xavier went off balance, staggering back and narrowly dodging the swing of Nick's fist at his face.

He ducked and jabbed Nick in the ribs before angling his hand to his hip and swinging it up in a painfully loud clap! across Nick's cheek.

It almost sounded like that slap hurt more than the actual punch. It sounded like a firecracker popping off on the Fourth of July. Ray's jaw dropped, and he would have laughed if there wasn't so much blood pouring from Nick's nose.

Xavier stepped back, clutching at his rib, panting. Nick clasped a hand over his cheek, cursing, before spitting blood on the asphalt. It splattered, dark and red, on the pavement. His upper lip was colored black with it.

Xavier jabbed a finger in Ray's direction and snapped, "Apologize."

Nick gasped, panting, the back of his hand pressed beneath his nose. "I didn't do anything to her."

Ray flinched, and by the look on Xavier's face, he saw red.

_____

Carmichael Hall had a kitchen and Xavier had gauze in his backpack for practice, so Ray accompanied him there.

Ray wasn't sure what he felt, especially when his personality and soul were off orbiting Earth still. He was numb all over, but still hot in the face from the chaos his heart was going through. He was still clutching his guitar to his chest as he watched the water from the faucet turn pink in Xavier's hands.

"Sorry I couldn't get him to apologize," Xavier said, a scowl set on his face.

"It's fine," Ray said, and Xavier glanced at him, sharply, and Ray sighed, looking down at his hands. "Okay, it's not fine. But I didn't—I didn't expect him to apologize anyway. So it doesn't matter. I don't think I would have believed him anyway."

"Yeah," Xavier sighed, grabbing a towel from the dispenser. He dabbed it gingerly over his bruised knuckles. They both looked at them in silence before Xavier put a hand to his rib and took a deep breath. "That's gonna be a bitch in practice tomorrow."

"Won't they see the bruises?"

"I'll just ask one of the girls for concealer. I've done it before—works pretty well," Xavier said, half-limping to the island countertop. He cursed and dropped down into one of the stools.

Ray propped Melvin 2.0 against the counter and went to sit beside Xavier. The gauze was out, but before Xavier could reach for it, Ray had his hands on it. He held it back from Xavier, who drummed his fingers on the counter and waited for Ray to give it up.

"You've done this before?" Ray asked, and Xavier simply stared at him. "When? While you were here?"

"No, not here—"

"And how'd you know about the smoking area?" he asked, and when Xavier said nothing, Ray pouted at him. "I'm not gonna rat you out. I just wanna know."

Xavier sucked in a sharp breath and let it out as he said, "I'm working on it." Ray rose his eyebrow at him, and Xavier lifted his right back. They stared each other down until Xavier jerked forward and snatched the gauze from Ray's unprepared grasp. Ray gasped, annoyed, and Xavier snickered. "Got it."

"I'm surprised your abuelita hasn't made you quit."

"Are you kidding? She smokes a pack a day," Xavier said, and Ray couldn't help but laugh.

He grinned as he wrapped the gauze between his fingers with the speed and precision of someone who did this frequently for practice. He took the edge of the cloth gauze between his teeth and stretched it taunt so he could go in with the scissors and snip it. He secured it with a metal pin before dealing with the other hand.

"Do you have class today?" Xavier asked.

"Yeah, not for another hour though," Ray sighed.

"What about the room?"

"Don't really want it anymore," he confessed. "I'll be fine in my apartment."

"That must be lonely though," Xavier said, and Ray looked away in order to avoid being caught lying through his teeth. "If you ever need company..."

"Oh, no, I'm fine, really." He waved his hands quickly, and the familiar banter brought a fraction of himself back down to Earth so he could meet Xavier's eyes and say, "I have a boyfriend, remember."

"Ah, so I don't get any points for risking my life. Almost dying..." Xavier teased, leaning an elbow against the countertop. He pinned the gauze in place and tossed the roll into his open backpack before meeting Ray's eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

Ray rolled his eyes. "You didn't almost die, and if you did, you asked for it."

"Have you no pity for me?"

"None whatsoever," he said, and with that, he pushed his stool back and spun away from the counter. He grabbed Melvin 2.0 before turning back and saying, "But thank you. Really. I wish I could have punched him at least once last semester."

"Oh, please don't. You might break your hand," he said.

"Oh, like you couldn't?"

"Practice." Xavier brandished a cheeky smile, and Ray rolled his eyes at it. As he walked to the kitchen door, Xavier said in a teasing voice, "Goodbye, Ray."

Ray leant in, a hand on the doorframe and mocked his tone, "Goodbye, Xavier," before leaving with a smile on his face. He wouldn't be recovered for a long while, but he was glad Xavier was there . He wasn't sure what he would have done if he was alone.

And that thought terrified him.

He hugged his guitar close. He might be alone next time, and he was far from ready for that to happen.

a/n: Thoughts on Xavier? 😳