Chapter Two: Crazy Little Sh*t

"You are my roommate?"

I ask as I swallow the drool pooling in my mouth at the sight before my eyes; even with his chest now covered, his biceps are strained enough to my liking, and this is entirely non-inclusive of his beautiful face.

"I said ‘no’. Find a new room."

“Wait, what? Me find a new room? I unpacked before you.”

I defend, but he scowls.

“As if that can stand as a defence.”

He grumbles before rolling his eyes.

"At least make it less obvious my presence repulses you. You are the student body president, for Christ's sake, wasn’t equality your campaign theme?"

"Shut up, let me think.”

He says before heading back into our room.

Of course, I follow the big bear-like man who seems terrified of my fruity self.

“I’ll find you a new roommate; I'm not sleeping with a f*ggot."

“Again, with the ‘F’ word. One more time, I dare you.”

His gaze turns sharply to me, and realising I have his attention, I continue.

“And news flash, I am not leaving.  Since you hate me so much, you move.”

"What?"

He asks with a deep sneer as if the thought was out of this world.

"Wow, are you actually surprised that I said ‘no’ to your selfish proposal? Dude, you want me to move just because you are scared you'll catch my gay? There is no way in hell I’m gonna sit back and say, ‘You know what, that’s valid’. Miss me with that shit."

Bubbling laughter escapes from his lips at my words turning his face almost angelic.

"I can ruin you without so much as moving a finger."

He can utter such mean threats with such a pretty face.

“So be a good boy and do as I say.”

He finishes as his hands slide into his pockets in a relaxed manner.

“Slow down, poster child for ‘do you know who my daddy is?’. I am on scholarship, I don’t have money for private accommodation, and all the dorms are fully booked, so again, you move if you are so pressed about my eye shadow staining your clothes.”

With that, my jacket hits the floor as the final punctuation in the argument.

My intention was to dive right into bed, but it would be best to wash the sourness of this conversation off me first.

“Are you deaf? I’m not rooming with a f*ggot.”

He clarifies, and with a tired sigh, I raise my phone and take a selfie of me with him simmering in the background.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He asks, but my fingers move busily on my phone.

“Aaand, post.”

I say dramatically before throwing my phone on the bed.

“What the hell was that? Give me your phone!”

He yells while striding towards me. As if forgetting his own strength, he overreaches for the device at the same time I push away, causing his body to tackle mine.

The hardness of his muscles rest atop me, pinning me beneath him.

For a while, he squirms, still trying to reach for the device, but when he feels my gaze on his chin, he scowls and pulls away before standing abruptly without wasting even a millisecond on me.

“Argh… fuck!”

He curses with clear disgust on his face.

“You smell like sweat.”

I say with a smile.

“I like it, never knew sweat and…what is that, Chanel? Could be so intoxicating.”

His face twists at my obvious provocation.

“Fuck.”

His tongue clicks in his mouth, and without another word, he grabs the clothes resting on his bed and heads to the bathroom, leaving me alone in the room.

A soft tongue click escapes my throat.

“Fucking annoying homophobe.”

I curse under my breath.

I don’t think I’ll be keeping my promise to Mum.

**

                                                                         BEAUMONT

“Slow down…”

Clark, father’s secretary, says with a sigh.

“Start from the beginning.”

“Get me a new roommate, or I’m heading back to my apartment.”

“You can’t use the apartment; it will disrupt the message your father wants to send. If his own son cannot stay in the facility he set up for the school, then will other elites?”

“Then get me a new roommate.”

“The angle the board was going for was non-discriminatory. Your roommate is a person of colour on scholarship, correct?”

“Fuck! Then get me another who fits the ‘feed-the-needy vibe’, am I not clear?”

“Beaumont, it hasn’t even been a month since your brother’s scandal; the family needs to lay low for a while, okay? Maybe next term, we’ll change your roommate, but for now-”

The urge to throw his phone against the wall was almost overwhelming; instead, he ended the call and glared at the home screen.

“I need that f*ggot out of here.”

He muttered as bitterness seeped into his chest.

A notification text, followed by another, chimed, causing him to frown.

[Hah, your roommate is the ‘queen of fashion school?’]

[Good luck with your roommate; I pray you don’t turn gay. We need your genes.]

[You promised me your firstborn son!]

Confusion laced his brow as he skimmed through his friends texts.

How the hell did they know?

The answer didn’t take long to reach him: because of a retweet of an image with both Noel and him reflected on his page.

The caption: ‘Homophobia? In 2025? Damn, I guess daddy’s money can't buy class.’

The original poster: @NoelSins

Status: 783 Views, 28 retweets.

It's been less than ten minutes.

Clicking Noel’s profile took less than a second: eight hundred and fifty thousand followers.

“Fuck.”

Before he could contain his anger, he stormed back into the room.

The smell of salted caramel and vanilla assaulted him; it wasn’t a scent he left behind, nor was it one he wanted to smell from a male.

His gaze took in Noel’s wet and now extremely curled brown hair as well as the towel wrapped around his body, again like a woman.

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth at the irritating sight.

“What the hell is that smell?”

He asked in hopes of snapping him back to reality.

“Lotion? It matches my perfume; you like?”

“It smells like a girl’s?”

“Okay? It's cute, I like it. Any other thing stuck in your ass that you’d like to express?”

A dry laugh escaped him; he had never in his life wanted to choke anyone before. No one had ever called that primal urge out of him. If he tried, he’d bruise the little fruit, so he turned his gaze to the ceiling and called to any God that would bless his patience.

“Delete the post.”

“Uh, no. Are we done?”

“I don’t think you know who you are dealing with.”

“No, you don’t know who you are dealing with. Call me another gay slur, and I don’t care how many lawyers ‘daddy’ has on speed dial, I will drag you through the mud across all my socials faster than you can print up a cease and desist. The LGBTQ-plus community, half of who follow me on my socials, by the way, have my back, so who knows the kind of mess I can stir up before I am expelled.”

“You crazy little shit.”

“That, I am.”

Noel says as he applies a layer of cherry-coloured Vaseline on his lips; the colour stains them.

He then turns to his wardrobe to pick out sleepwear—why the hell are all his clothes pastel-coloured?

“Gone are the days that people like you can oppress me in silence. I have nothing to lose that I will not regain at the right time, so spare me if you want to threaten me with an expulsion.”

Hah…

He’s a little shit that believes the worst thing that could happen to him is expulsion.