Orientation Week

Fall Semester

Lillie’s eyes kept swimming with unshed tears. She sniffed, rubbing at her nose and blinking her lashes furiously. Axel would have found it adorable on any other day, but not when she was grabbing a pair of scissors and snipping away at his hair, far too close to his ear for comfort.

“Mom,” he whined. “You’re going to cut me.”

“Sit still, you’ll be fine.” Lillie ignored her son’s pleading and resumed her hazardous snipping and sniffing. She looked at her son’s reflection in the mirror, pride bubbling in her chest.

“Oh, you,” she cried, cradling his face with one plump hand, while rearranging loose strands of auburn hair with the other.

“Mom, come on,” he said, freeing his chin from her grip. “You’re acting like this is the last time you’re going to see me.”

She slapped the back of his head, lightly. “Don’t say that. Oh, don’t make those jokes, I hate them,” she pouted.

“Everything is going to be okay, I promise,” he said, trying to sound adult and mature and definitely dependable enough to be living alone with you know who, in the big city.

The look on his mom’s face showed anything but reassurance at his words. “Well, are you finally gonna do it?” she asked out of nowhere.

Axel’s cheeks flushed a shade darker than his hair. “Do what?” He feigned ignorance.

“Ask that boy out,” his mother groaned, exasperated. “You’ve been pining over him all through high school. Just rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with,” Lillie advised.

Axel grimaced at the direction of this conversation. His family had been egging him on for years. But they didn’t know Jules like he did. It just wasn’t the right time.

“At least let me have some peace of mind on this front,” his mother continued, guilt-tripping him with her droopy puppy eyes.

He waved her away. “Shouldn’t you finish packing?” he evaded, getting up to fold one of her discarded shirts on the couch. Honestly, between the two of them, who was the adult and who was more immature, here?

“Always in a hurry to get rid of me,” Lillie pouted again.

Axel brushed off some loose hairs on his clothes and then stuffed her shirt into the open suitcase. “I’m not trying to get rid of you,” he said, frustrated.

“I just think you should get it over with. You know, rip the Band-Aid,” he teased. She threw a towel at him.

*

The fraternity house buzzed with energy. You could hear electric tunes roaring out of the booming sound system from all the way down the street. But no one in Black City complained, for this was typical every first week of each Fall Semester at the Royal College.

With new students passing admissions every fall, old students welcomed them in “Orientation Week” the way they knew best; that being loud music and booze.

Neon lights washed over the drunk teenagers in alternating hues of green and purple. In their hands, they carried red plastic cups filled to the brim with punch. The content consisting of an amalgamation of different alcoholic beverages mixed together to create a rather disgusting concoction.

Axel Saint John downed his cup in one go, his face contorting as the liquid sloshed down his throat. He had actually made it into the Royal College. The first in his family to do so. A feat he would not have been able to manage on his own without grueling study sessions chaperoned by the one and only—

“Dude, take it easy,” Julian Perfection Fields hiccuped, laughing as he patted Axel’s back.

Axel’s’s body jolted awake at the contact, the alcohol steeling his nerves. His eyes met Jules’, and he leaned in, inching slowly closer to his lips. Julian did not back away, as promising a sign as any.

Axel could smell the lingering scent of his aftershave. He swallowed hard. He was really doing this. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Right on cue, an asshole came running down the stairs, bumping into his shoulder and making Ax spill his drink all over Jules’ white shirt.

Heat rushed up his cheeks. Just like that, the moment was broken.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Axel cursed, looking around to find napkins or anything that could fix the mess he’d created. If only there were napkins to clear away his piling mortification.

Jules was laughing, unperturbed. His hiccups increased as he wheezed for breath. Axel pouted like a spoiled child. “This isn’t funny,” he whined, his voice coming out a whimper.

Julian still heard him over the noise. His eyes softened, and his lips creased into a genuine smile, one of those smiles that were reserved only for Axel. It was partly why he had fallen head over heels for him, and here he was, after three years of push-and-pull, ready to make a move, only for everything to go catastrophically awry.

Julian extended a hand, and Axel reflexively took it. “Come on,” he said, dragging the two of them up the stairs and toward the bathroom. There was a bit of a line, and they stood there waiting their turn, hands still intertwined. Axel’s pulse quickened; maybe all wasn’t lost just yet.

Eventually, they made it to the bathroom. Axel suddenly felt very hot. The fluorescent light did little to ease his anxiety, and whatever the hell was in that punch was not helping with the increasing butterflies in his tummy. He closed the toilet lid and perched on top as if it were a royal seat, trying his best to steady his nerves.

Julian unbuttoned his shirt, and Axel immediately averted his gaze. He was acting like a little schoolgirl, but that was prone to happen when you were about to either enter the most important relationship of your life, or otherwise jeopardize the most important friendship in your life.

“You okay?” Julian’s voice broke through Axel’s internal struggle, and his eyes landed again on the culprit.

“Y-eah,” he answered, but the word came out slurred. He cringed internally.

Julian was leaning shirtless against the sink, his eyes fixed on Axel’s face. A small smile played on his lips, and Axel had the inkling his so-called best friend knew exactly what he was doing to him.

“Are you done cleaning your shirt?” Axel puffed out the question, trying to look anywhere but Jules’ face. His eyes ventured toward his pecs and he decided those weren’t safe territory either. After much deliberation, he decided to look at the floor. White tiles, dirty shoe prints, wait, is that vomit?... Gross. But safe. He’ll just keep his eyes fixed on the tiles. Tiles are safe.

Safe up until a pair of sneakers came into view. Jules’ scent hit his nostrils, and his shadow loomed over him. Axel kept his head down. This was not safe. Was it too late to abort the mission?

Julian’s fingers lingered near his face, slowly reaching to trace a line down his neck. Axel involuntarily shuddered.

“I think that punch is getting to you,” Julian teased. His fingers did not cease their movement. They trailed his jaw, sliding down his chin, and lifting Axel’s face up to meet his eyes.

“I think you’re getting to me,” Axel blurted. Julian’s hand froze for a second, but Axel gripped it, pulling him down before he started overthinking. In one swift motion, Julian was sitting in his lap. Neither one of them moved. The seconds stretching into what felt like eternity.

Axel kept his eyes fixed on Julian, the emotion in them pleading, as if to say, Now is the time to put an end to this, all you have to do is push me away.

But Julian leaned in and kissed him instead.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***