I was well aware of how ridiculous this entire ordeal was, but nonetheless, it didn't stop me.

Perhaps that's phrasing it lightly, though, since I couldn't stopped if I tried. And believe me I have tried. The countless amount of times I've told myself that I'll actually pay attention to whatever the fuck Miss I-don't-even-know-her-name is saying, and completely ignore the perfectly messy black bed of hair directly in front of me. No matter how many times I've attempted to focus, my attention kept being drawn back to the back of the figure ahead of me as if he were a magnet, and he was the very reason I had no idea what the hell was going on in English for the last two months.

The most shameful part of it all is that I barely even knew the guy. I've spoke to him maybe, twice throughout the school year? It was just minor small talk forced by mutual friends on very rare occasions.

I knew the basics at least, his name was Nico Di Angelo. And damn the way he said his name when Miss asked him who he was and why he decided to show up late, that name slipped off his tongue so smoothly, the undertone of that Italian accent enhanced the beauty of the name. It was actually the first time I'd even register the existence of the male, and I was already hooked because of a fucking name for gods sake.

It wasn't just the name that had drawn my sudden attraction, there was also the appearance of course. When he entered that door, he was wearing a different set of the same style of clothing he usually shows up in. That day he was wearing a black band tee complimented with a leather jackets that fit him so god damn perfectly and snug in all the right places. But if it wasn't the jacket that did it, it was the jeans. Those jeans might as well been spray painted on because tight ass, ripped, skinny jeans on Nico Di Angelo should be a sin (and then he had the sheer audacity let silver chains hang from his belt loops, which may I remind are on his hips.) However, most of the look came from the face, which despite all the black, he truly looked angelic. His face was pale and hosted sharp features with a jawline that could cut a bitch. The brown eyes were difficult to see where I was sitting from, but I still got the feeling like they were a bottomless void. The natural pink tint of his lips emphasised them, drawn thin into a monotone expression. The lips already looked kissable enough to me, but when I saw the gleam on the silver ring on the bottom one, I was already articulating on what would be the strongest material to keep me strapped to the chair and not run up to him and make out with him senseless in the middle of class. The thing was, that I didn't even know I had such a thing for the punk image, but this guy gave it his own sense, and fuck it was attractive.

What I'd assumed would happen was that the crush would die down in a few weeks despite his perfect face. I couldn't of been more wrong, if anything I grew more infatuated with each coming day, and I only mostly saw the back of his head.

The only class we shared was English, I sat on the back row which was great since no one would notice me just staring love hearts into the crow feathered hair. Nico's seat was directly in front of mine, giving me full access to literally just his head, shoulders and arms.

Which was apparently more than enough to keep me infatuated.

One day, he entered class, late as always, only giving me an opportunity for a two second glimpse to his front before he strode to his seat. The teacher always gave him a disappointed look whenever he'd eventually show up, whereas I sighed not in disappointment yet like a love sick school girl. After that, I pulled myself together, Just concentrate for once in you life, Solace, I thought as I diverted my attention to Miss once again.

I blamed it on my ADHD for why I can never seem to focus on her rather than my slight obsession with the Italian, but she was discussing pairings on a project which seemed to keep myself rapt rather than wavering of to the sound of her constant blabber. I usually pride myself on being an overachieving student, I was an aspiring medic and was acing pretty much every class. But English? Where I could barely concentrate more than 5 minutes at a time? Let's just say I knew I'd feel bad for whoever would have to suffer through me for this project.

There was actually, one time the teacher had my 100% attention, and that was the exact moment she said the words, "Will Solace and Nico Di Angelo." I thought my eyes would pop out of their sockets and it took a hell of a lot of willpower and counter reflex to fight the internal spluttering to become vocal. My gaze, once again, landed on the back of Nico's head which wasn't really helpful to tell me what he thought about his pair because, well, it was the back of a fucking head.

It felt like hours until she finally finished the list of pairs that would be forced to work together until she finally ordered us to start planning the project with our partners. I saw Cecil in the corner of my eye greet Charles with a quick bro hug until he met my gaze, he waggled his eyebrows at me then to Nico to which I only narrowed my eyes at him. Sure, he knew about this whole Nico ordeal, but I'd never give him the satisfaction of actually admitting it explicitly to him.

My scowl at Cecil seemed to waver when I heard the unsure, "Hey," from besides me. I turned to face Nico Di Angelo, who had already dragged up a chair to my small desk, perched lazily upon it. I wanted to check him out, I really did, but it took all of my willpower not too.

"Hey, so first things first, what's the actually project?" I asked, I may have shifted on my seat but if there was anything I prided myself on it was my social skills. Obviously, I'm not the most popular guy in the school, but I generally seemed to get along with people and was able to keep a conversation flowing. I was pleasantly surprised when this didn't seemed to be effected even with my pulse running at probably 400 beats per second.

Nico half turned to face the board, in which the prompt was written on. I paid no attention to the prompt but instead to now the exposed neck being displayed to me at the moment. How could a neck look so attractive? And how could someone's collar bone look that god damn prominent? And how the hell did someone as gay as me come to exist?

"We gotta make some kind of presentation or display on the characters of Romeo and Juliet," he answered, facing back to me and hopefully not catching my lingering gaze, "Can we do a simple display? I'd rather just show and not tell."

I smiled what I hope was reassuringly at him, "Yeah sure, I don't mind. Where do you wanna do it? The library maybe or in school somewhere?"

Nico's angelic features scrunched up in a reflexive cringe, "Rather not, what about my place?" I can feel my eyebrow cock at the suggestion, Nico however seemed to be absentminded. Which reminded me that it was just me who was totally crazy over the other and that Nico just wanted a place to work with me to not ruin his reputation in the public eye.

By the end of lesson, we had agreed on Nico's place, a time and a vague idea. In all honesty, I surprised myself for acting as 'normal' as I did— at least I hope I did — as Nico didn't really seem to want to run away from me after the simple 10 minute talk. I just hoped I could maintain it, cause if there was anything place in the world I would slip up it was alone with just the two of us in Nico Di Angelo's room.

~~Behold, line breaker~~

I know it wasn't fair to blame Nico for running around in my head all day, but that sure as hell didn't stop me. I wasn't particularly mad, but it was now frustrating that I couldn't seem to focus on anything else. However, all of this seemed to be forgotten as I saw said Italian leaning against the bike rails at where we said we'd meet up, and then I caught myself gaping at the death machine adjacent to his sexy figure.

"We wanna beat the traffic, school rush is always a pain in the ass, so don't just stand there," he said casually, before throwing his long legs over the leather of the bike, "What are you waiting for?"

"No way in hell am I getting on that thing," I announced. As hot as Nico looked on the motorbike, I was most certainly not getting on because funnily enough I quite enjoyed my life.

Nico rolled his coffee irises at my antics, yet a loose smile played on his lips, "You're not scared, are you?" He teased, then turning the key, letting the enjoy purr to life.

I crossed my arms in a stubborn stance, "What? Scared? Of that disaster waiting to happen? Psh, no." Why did motorbikes even exist? Couldn't people just use a normal bike or a normal car? Just because bikes made you look around sixteen times more badass doesn't mean to you risk dying every time you want to go from one place to another.

"I've got a licence you know, and I've been driving for a pretty long time—"

"But look at that thing! You don't even have a helmet!"

Nico shook his head as he chuckled, whereas I didn't find the situation at all amusing, "Just get on, Solace. You can trust me." He said, smiling sincerely nodding his head behind him.

I stood there for a best longer, I was actually doing this. I was riding to my death. I dragged a hand through my hair out of habit and perched myself on the bike. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but I guess it wasn't too bad. The leather was still cool even against the sun, not making the seat searing like I expected.

"Unless you wanna fall off, you're gonna have to grab on to me," Nico stated, looking over his shoulder to meet me. I smiled nervously before shuffling forward, letting my arms wrap around his waist loosely. This was dangerous, not even the motorbike, me grasping his hips that I've been staring at for so long made felt so right, I could've just kissed his neck right then and then— woahhhh slow down.

I am not going to get a boner while riding to my death with Nico Di Angelo.

The Italian revved the engine, and totally and purely out of instinct I increased the pressure I was holding Nico by a ten fold. He didn't seem to complain though, and continued to reverse and slowly leave the parking lot of the school. I could feel myself shaking and I was gripping Nico like a vice as he rode down the road. I soon realised he was actually quite a skilled driver, he was able to skim through narrow car gaps effortlessly, despite my anxious protests. Then we hit a clear street, I barely heard the: "This is the fun part," before we were speeding away. The houses and trees flashed past in a blur and the wind was whipping through my hair so violently I'm pretty sure I looked like a flaming ball of fire. Wind slapped me in the face, and I found it quite difficult to breathe, but what surprised me was that I didn't even care; cause fucking hell I was missing out.

When we arrived at Nico's place, I didn't really think about what to expect. Maybe I thought it would be the usual suburban home, but I should've known that would be far too predictable for this Italian. No, instead, he lived in a mansion. A full on mansion. They owned acres of land, and where the building didn't stand, within the gates was a beautiful garden filled with lush grass, plants and flowers.

Never had I ever picture Nico with a bed of petunia's behind him, but now that I've seen it, I truly felt blessed.

I didn't know whether I should actually bring up the fact he lived in a fucking mansion cause that was rude — was it? Nico and I were barely friends, at most we were forced acquaintances, would question someone on their home be too personal of a topic?

"My Dad is a pretty wealthy business owner, I don't really care if you ask about it. I know all of this is pretty overwhelming," said Nico, as if he were reading my god damn mind. The words didn't sound boastful coming out of his mouth, it was nonchalant and didn't hold the rich snob accent that I for some reason I thought he'd host.

We entered through what Nico said was the west entrance, which I'm pretty sure in commoner terms meant the front door. The inside was just as grand as the out, yet it looked more comforting than luxurious. By my surprise, I didn't really feel all that out of place standing in front of the very, very large stairwell, since even with all the rich lavishes, it still felt very much like a warm home.

"Nico, sei tornato prima del solito," said a feminine voice from behind us. I turned to see a lady whom had luscious black hair and matching eyes, going well with her dark complexion, "Oh, chi è il ragazzo?" She said as we made only a second of eye contact. In the corner of my eye, I could see Nico scowling at the lady, but she only produced a bashful smile to which I had no idea why.

"Hi, sorry about the language barrier. Nico doesn't usually bring anyone home. I'm Marie, Nico's stepmother," she said, extending her hand towards me in a kind gesture.

"Will Solace," I reply as politely I could muster, meeting her grip with only a single shake, "We've got a project due—"

"—Yes and we really need to focus on getting our work done. So if you don't mind, we'll be going now," Nico incontestably continued for me. I only caught a flash of a cock eyebrow on Marie before I was physically drag up the stairs, Nico's firm grip around my wrist, and I really hoped that he couldn't detect how my pulse literally felt like was going to burst out of my veins.

The corridors seemed like a maze to me, but Nico was wordlessly leading the way, with me right on his toes. With a final turn, he swung open a dark accented door to reveal what I presumed to be his room.

And when I was standing in it, I was almost 99% certain it was indeed his room. It was probably the black painted walls that gave it away at first. Or maybe it was the scatters of dark clothes that littered the floor. What surprised me though was the occasional drawing that was pin on a wall here and there, they were colourless sketches, yet they had enough depth to still make them seem mind-fuckingly realistic.

"You really seem to blend in here," Nico teased, shrugging of his leather jacket and tossing it onto the bed, now exposing his toned arms underneath a pretty tight t shirt, which, fuck.

At this point, my self control seemed to slip through some metaphorical trap door since I let my eyes linger on those arms for a second too long. If Nico actually caught me, I'll never know, but if he did he didn't say anything.

We were surprising on task, it turns out the Italian was really some closeted English geek and seemed to have caught on really quickly to the fact I was clueless about the whole term.

"We literally sit on individual desks, Solace. Alone, and they're pretty spaced out. What the fuck could you be so distracted by that you missed a whole term on information?" Nico asked unknowingly, making me will off a blush I could feel creeping up my neck.

"I don't know," (I do know, it's you) "Mainly it's Cecil and me just passing notes a lot of the time," (no that's a lie, it's actually you). I should've been prepared for this question, with a legitimate excuse. Sure Cecil and I were best friends, but he were still a couple of seats apart. I didn't think Nico picked up on this, only nodding his head.

When we decided it was about time for a break, I laid back on the bed under the watchful eye of the Italian. It stuck me that we weren't even friends, he probably didn't even want me lying here. But if I suddenly got up, it would be perhaps a little unusual so I stayed out upon the grey linens. It was a break, but Nico still seemed to have his eyes on one of the pieces of paper that was going on the display board. He was probably re-reading his work through, but as he did so, he gnawed lazily on his lip piercing, and I physically couldn't bring myself to look away. Even when he caught me, I was still staring at his lips, only to cause with to blush crimson and abruptly stop tugging at his silver ring. Oh? Could this be a sign maybe? Or was it just wishful thinking? I don't think I've even seen the Italian blush before, but in all fairness I have been staring at the back of his head the most of the time I did actually see him, but he didn't strike as a person who would blush. Yet, wouldn't anyone blush it they caught someone staring at their lips?

Whatever the meaning, I called it a night and idiotically promised to see him in school.

~~Line breaker~~

"Hey, Solace," called the oh so familiar voice from over my shoulder. I turned to face Nico in all his glory, striding up to me, weaving through the clusters of team that clogged the hallway.

"What's up?" I asked, after a few project sessions, we had gotten pretty close and I actually looked forward to them. Spending secluded time with Nico Di Angelo wasn't nearly as sexually tormenting as I thought it was, he was a great guy with a great personalities. I wasn't lusting over him as much as I used to before we were paired up, yet my pull towards him seemed to grow twice as strong.

Nico shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing much, I just came over to say we can't work on the project after school. And I don't know when I can so maybe I could text you when I'm actually available?" We we're almost done with our project, tonight was theoretically supposed to be our last one, I've been dreading yet looking forward to it at the same time; not wanting to end my excuse of hanging out with the newly founded friend.

"Yeah no problem," I replied, accepting his phone from his cool hands. I chuckled at the ironically black cartoon skull wallpaper until adding my number into his contacts. Frowning at the blandness of my contact, I took a quick selfie and stalled it as my contact picture. It was a cheesy picture, but much better than the boring grey default picture.

I handed him my phone after, watching him type in his number. I thought I was imagining the smile that was lingering on his lips before he handed me back my device. I held up my phone a snapped a quick picture of him, catching Nico by surprise and adding it as my contact picture.

"What was that for?" He chided, desperately trying to look at the screen of my phone for the mugshot I stole from him.

I beamed back at him, "Your profile picture, obviously," showing him the photo of his own surprised face. His coffee eyes were wide yet his brows were slightly furrowed, his mouth looked like he was just about to start speaking, lips only just parted. All in all, it was pure perfection in one photograph.

~~Line Breaker~~
Less than a minute ago:
From Nico: Hey, do you wanna finish off the work today?

From Nico: Marie and Dad have left for the weekend so I pretty much have the house to myself.

On a Saturday morning, I was pleasantly surprised when I received these texts. I didn't really have any plans, it was Lou's and Cecil 6 month anniversary so they were going to dinner, leaving me alone. (Not that I minded, the last time I tagged along with Cecil and Lou turned to be the biggest mistake of my life).

I kept typing then erasing, then typing, then erasing. I knew Nico was probably watching the speech bubbles flashing in and out of appearance, but what exactly was I supposed to say when he claimed to have the house to himself? Was that suggestive maybe? Fuck I'm getting too far ahead of myself, I don't even think he's gay.

To Nico: Sounds good, I'll be there by 2?

From Nico: I'll be waiting ;)

I almost had a heart attack when I saw the emoticon. The audacity to include a winky, it was a complete and utter game changer. One does now ';)' in vain, they must have inferior intentions. Surely. A winky face in my books was definitely suggestive... or maybe he just wanted to include the emoticon for the hell of it.

As two ticked closer and closer, I took my dad's car too the Di Angelo Manor, as I liked to call it. My knock on the polished glass of the door was swiftly answered by Nico, and for fucks sake he was certainly yanking at my heartstrings today.

He still wore his typical black tee, but this one seemed to be too small on him, which meant it only teasingly hinted at his abdomen. I could've sworn there were more holes that actual material in his jeans. The strips of smooth, pale skin made my fingers itch, but nonetheless, I shrugged him into my hoodie pockets.

"Solace," was all he said, walking to his room already, leaving me to shut the door before following him. Being behind him, I really did have a great view of his ass, which was a shameful blessing cause Nico Di Angelo did have a great ass.

Throughout the final piecing together of our work, Nico seemed to be reaching over me quite a lot. We had moved to the floor since the table didn't have enough space. I sat cross legged while Nico mostly stayed on his knees. His arm often extended over my lap for several different objects like glue and scissors, things that would be much easier to just ask for rather than reacher over. I wasn't really complaining though, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the overly platonic action.

As Nico stuck the final quote down on the page, he exhaled a sigh of satisfaction. "Fucking finally," he breathed, capping the glue stick before standing up to stretch him limbs. His shirt slipped high enough to reveal a strip of his bare hips which look so fucking hot I couldn't help but stare.

"Yeah, this was long overdue," I replied, also standing up to shake the sleepiness from my legs. Nico hummed in agreement, but I didn't miss the wicked smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Do you also know what else is long overdue?"

I could barely manage a simple "What?" before Nico moved forward to close the space between us, too fast for my brain to register what was happening even when arms looked around
my neck and smooth, cool lips brushed against my own. The contact was slight, yet it felt like a colliding explosion. All I was doing was standing their dumbly, in pure and utter shock, while Nico attacked my lips in a shocking but much appreciated assault.

The contact was gone all of a sudden, and Nico looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Fuck, you're not gay are you? Maybe I've been reading signs all wrong—mphhh" and this time it was my turn to interrupt his sentence with a kiss. I pushed him back against the dark walls and firmly placed my hands on his defined waist. There was a soft sigh emitting of Nico, and then a growl which I think came from me. Nico lips parted submissively in which I more than gladly accepted, taking advantage of the opportunity to explore every aspect of his mouth. I slipped my hands under his shirt, my thumbs finally being able to trace fingers on his hip bone.

We kept at it for a while, it was like releasing an extremely compressed bottle of sexual tension, shaking it, and then popping it open like it was champagne cork. But eventually, we had to come up for air, and we panted while our foreheads pressed together like two exhausted dorks.

"You're the reason I'm failing English, but if I get to do that more often I really don't mind," I stated breathily, looking at him dead in the eyes.

"Good," was all he said before tying our tongues once again.