Chapter 1: Stubbornness and Freckles



Few things stopped Elliot once he really got going.

Elliot yanked open the door to The Student Council President's office and closed it with a little too much force, a fact of which he couldn't care less about at that moment. The list of approved clubs he had been given not even five minutes ago was still clenched in his hand as he strode across the room.

The President didn't bother to look up from the large newspaper in his hands. "Good afternoon, Elliot. What is your complaint today?"

Elliot slammed the crumpled list onto The President's desk. "The KISS Fan club?" he said. "When was this approved?"

The President turned to the next page of the newspaper, eyes darting back and forth as he read through the articles. "Yesterday, I believe."

"This is hardly appropriate for a club."

"It's fine, Elliot," said The President. "It's not as if they are going to be dancing around, drinking of the blood of their enemies and performing pagan rituals to Gene Simmons."

Elliot could hardly believe his ears. "For all we know that's what they could be planning on doing."

The President folded the newspaper up in his hands and placed it on his desk, then leaned back in his black leather chair. Even though he was also a student of their school, a senior like Elliot, he emanated an air of maturity that Elliot couldn't help but admire and envy. It only seemed fitting that a person like him was the student council president of the school. Although even Elliot had to admit how strange it was for his best friend to insist being referred to by a title rather than his name. Even moreso now that such a mature person was now allowing such a club to be formed at their school.

"Do your complaints have a point to them?" said The President, "whether you believe it or not, I see nothing wrong with a club gathering all in the sake of interest over a band. I have already discussed the matter with the club president, and he has made it clear that they intend to do nothing more than gather and express enthusiasm for their interests."

Elliot's light brown eyes narrowed slightly. Minutes ago he had hoped that the list had been a joke of sorts, something The President, one of his closest friends, had cooked up as a beginning of the year prank. The President loved jokes, albeit jokes only he really laughed at. But when the rest of the list held the names of clubs that existed every school year... "You're just going to let them do whatever they want in our school?" he said.

"No." The President's cobalt eyes left Elliot and locked themselves on the clock on the wall. "They are, however, allowed to do whatever they wish so long as it does not compromise the safety of anyone or insult the school and themselves."

"How can--''

"Elliot, you're a smart person. We both know that." The President sighed with exasperation, his eyes not once leaving the clock on the wall as he spoke. "Let us just cut to the chase, shall we? Why do you really not want the approval of a harmless club?"

Elliot's lips pulled back into a grimace. "Isn't it obvious? What kind of club would this be? It's irregular, it's risky, it's--"

"Different?" The President interrupted, watching the little hand on the clock move to the next number. "I know it's irregular. I know it's risky. But it's different." He finally tore his eyes off of the clock and back onto Elliot, whose hands had fisted themselves at his side. "Elliot, we've had the same clubs coming back year after year. Nothing new ever happens here. When the idea for this club was first put into my hands, I must admit I was intrigued. At first I thought that no one would join such a club, but then the first list of people eagerly waiting to join came in. The enthusiasm was astounding." The President smiled up at Elliot. "I think that this is the sort of club we need to liven up this school this year."

Elliot let out the long breath that he had held in. On the exterior he looked as calm as The President, but the inside was another matter entirely. The fact that none of his words were getting through to one of the few people he considered credible only fed his frustration. How could The President risk attempting such an idea?

"Nonsense," Elliot muttered under his breath after a pregnant pause. "This school is fine just the way it is."

“True. The school is fine. But it could be better,” The President argued. “It needs change. Life is all about change. Things can’t stay the same forever. I know you don’t believe me, Elliot. Therefore, I have a request for you.”

Elliot cocked an eyebrow. “A request?”

“Yes.” The President glanced back at the clock. “Just stay in here for a little bit. In about a minute or so, someone I’d like for you to meet will be here.” He gestured to a somewhat smaller black leather chair in front of the desk. “Take a seat, Elliot. Relax.”

Elliot eyed the chair and shook his head. “I’d rather not. I don’t plan on staying too long.”

The President nodded and didn’t push the matter further. Instead, he relaxed in his chair and shook a few strands of semi-short black hair out of his cobalt eyes. Elliot stared intently at him, his well-shaped lips pursed into thin and determined line. He felt ready to explode with his next bold thought. When he opened his mouth to make his next point about why the club should be permanently shut down, the door to The President’s office suddenly opened. A soft light filled the room, briefly shocking both Elliot and The President from the tense atmosphere and the dark room as they both turned towards the door.

Elliot’s eyes widened with shock, unsure of what to make out the person who stood by the door.

“…Uh, hi! This is the Student council’s president office, right?” the oddity asked in a voice too friendly for it to be sincere. Elliot eyed the stranger, who looked out of place as he stared back at Elliot and The President from the open doorway. The boy's semi-long rusty orange hair was pulled back in a ponytail, although odd strands fell around his freckled face. Elliot frowned upon realizing that he'd never seen him around before. Was he new around the school?

“Yes, you’re in the right place,” The President answered, getting up from his chair. The grin that spread across the freckled boy’s face was almost unbelievable.

“Great…I kept getting lost! I must’ve asked several different people where this room was.” The boy audibly heaved a huge breath of relief, the same grin still planted firmly on his bow-shaped lips.

“It’s not that hard to find,” Elliot mumbled, narrowing his eyes at the boy with distaste. The other boy just continued to smile, even though the harsh comment had been loud enough for him to hear it.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late,” the boy continued as he approached the desk. Elliot took a step back, eyes still taking in the eccentric boy beside him. The guy looked even weirder close up. His eyes were a brilliant shade of blue-green, youthful eyes. He was also a little on the pale side, with hundreds of freckles sprinkled all over his skin. His ears, which Elliot could only now really see when the boy had come to stand beside him, had many piercings, some which that looked extremely painful and unneeded.

Elliot tried not to scowl when another realization came into the light. He bitterly noted that the other boy was a little taller than he was, too…

The boy caught Elliot staring at him from the corner of his eye and turned to him. He expected a harsh comment, but instead recieved a hand being offered to him in greeting.

“I’m Cameron,” the boy replied, still smiling that stupid, goofy grin. “Nice to meet you.”

Elliot ignored the gesture and instead noticed that boy’s the other hand held a small stack of papers at his side. His frown deepened as the pieces came together. This was the boy that was the source of his current problem?

“You’re the club president?”

Cameron blinked and flushed suddenly, as if extremely excited by the mere mention of it. “Yes! This was all my idea.” He held up the small stack of papers that he had brought in with him. “I was asked to bring these in. I have the list of people wanting to join, the activities we’ll be doing, and—”

Elliot reached out and snatched the papers from Cameron before he could finish his sentence. He glowered at the cursed text as he flipped through the pages. Cameron let his previous sentence drift off into silence and watched Elliot with a curious gaze.

Elliot’s frown deepened with every page that he looked at. The list of people that wished to join the club was a little big…too big, he decided. And the activities? He almost wanted to laugh at how ludicrous those were. The list of supplies that they requested from the council wasn’t something to laugh at, though. Deciding that he was finished with this nonsense, Elliot carelessly dropped the papers into The President’s desk. He latched his displeased stare onto The President. “Is this some sort of joke?”

The President smiled. “Nope.”

Dissatisfied with the answer, Elliot turned towards Cameron, who still looked curiously at Elliot. One eyebrow was raised as if the freckled boy was trying to decipher something in a language he couldn’t understand, and his mouth was puckered in a sort of childlike pout.

Elliot repeated himself one last time. “Is this a joke?”

“…Joke?” Cameron repeated slowly.

“Yes, a joke. Just what do you take us for?” Elliot abruptly snapped, pointing an accusing finger at the stack of papers. “How can you seriously think that this was a good idea for a club?”

“Well, I—”

“This isn't some public school where anything goes,” Elliot interrupted, his voice sharp from frustration. “People pay money for their children to come here, to learn and even to live here in our dorms.” Cameron grimaced slightly at Elliot’s tone of voice; his body growing tense as the conversation became harsher and harsher. “Parents do not pay us that kind of money so that their children can join some club where you dress up and play pretend all day. It’s a waste of time! It’s a waste of money! It’s—”

“Probably the best club idea we’ve had in a long while,” The President finally cut in. He smiled gently towards the two tense boys.

Elliot turned to The President with a look of utmost betrayal and bitter confusion. “But—”

“And I think you’re being a tad too judgmental and unreasonable, Elliot,” The President added. “It hasn’t even started yet and already you’re trying to beat it into the ground.” The President sifted through some of the papers and picked up the activity page. “I can see a lot of promise in this club, and a lot of potential.”

Elliot snorted in disbelief.

“No, hear me out Elliot.” The President cleared his throat and quickly read over the list. “From what I see here, this club plans to do a lot of school-spirit activities: cheering at sport games, live advertising for school events, and overall just livening things up here.” The President smirked as he placed the page back onto the rest on his desk. “School spirit has been going down over the years. This could bring it up. What’s the harm in trying?”

“That’s not the problem! It’s how they’re going to do it that bothers me,” Elliot exclaimed. The frustration was building up inside, like a balloon with too much air in it; he felt almost ready to explode. “It bothers me how you’re willing to overlook the fact that they’re going to be dressed up, sticking their tongues out at people, and being weird! And with your approval! If you really had the school’s best interests at heart, you wouldn’t have approved of this damn club at all!”

The President and Elliot locked eyes, their stares heated and bemused. Beside them, Cameron stood idly by, though his once lighthearted expression pulled into a determined one.

“Look, guys, I’m sorry about all the trouble,” Cameron said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I never meant to cause any grief for anyone. I just wanted to start something fun.” He looked at Elliot. His voice then lost its apologetic tone. “But still, I think you have the wrong idea about what this club is.”

“No, you have the wrong idea,” Elliot said with a snort. “This club won’t be anything, because it’s not going to happen.”

"Wrong," The President said, his authoritative voice grabbing both of their attention. “This club is happening, whether Elliot wants it to or not. It’s a great idea, and if he’s too stubborn to see that then that's his problem.” He quickly turned to Elliot, retorting, “And if you’re so worried about this club crossing any dangerous lines, then why don’t I assign you to oversee the club, hmm?”

For the first time in over fifteen minutes, Elliot’s expression went from one of disdain and anger to a smugness that matched The President’s. It was a look of superiority and amusement that suddenly changed the rules to the game. Cameron’s blue-green eyes darted back and forth between the two council members, his expression blatantly alarmed and puzzled.

“…Really?” Elliot challenged, watching Cameron’s gaze out of the corner of his eye.

“Really,” The President confirmed. “I trust you Elliot. Despite your stubbornness, you’re one of the more honest member’s on the council. I trust that if anything really does go wrong with Cameron’s club, you’d be the one to tell me right away. Not that I expect anything to go wrong.” He glanced at the freckled boy. “Is this all right with you, Cameron?”

“Uh…s-sure,” Cameron said. Elliot wanted to laugh at how uncertain Cameron sounded. He knew deep down that Cameron agreeing to this was probably going to be the death of his precious fan club, and after that response, Elliot was certain that Cameron had just noted him as the worst threat against his club. Elliot breathed easy; he had this one in the bag. If he was lucky, he could find a few fatal flaws that would be sufficient enough for it to be shut down before the end of the month.

“Well, seeing as it is now almost half past twelve, I think it’s time for you to return to your duties while there’s still time before afternoon classes.” The President said to Elliot while returning to his leather chair.

Elliot nodded in agreement. “Fine.” He turned his confident smirk on Cameron, his light brown eyes narrowing at the other boy, like a vicious cat eyeing a naïve bird trapped in a corner. “You have no idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into.”.

Then, to Elliot’s surprise, Cameron mutely answered the quiet threat, his own eyes gleaming with an ambition that matched Elliot's determination. “Bring it on.”


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When Elliot finally left the room, he took the competitive tension with him. Cameron heaved a heavy sigh, as if he had held his breath for a lengthy amount of time.

“What an intense guy,'' he breathed, still feeling ill at ease, as if the passionate council member were still beside him. His heart beat as unsteadily as it had moments ago when those light brown eyes tried to stare him down into absolute submission.

“That’s Elliot for you,” The President chuckled, leaning back in his leather chair with a look of unpolluted self-assurance. “He’s always been a stubborn person.”

Cameron swallowed thickly. “Mr. President?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t have a chance in hell, do I?”

The President threw back his head and laughed. After calming down, he shook his head. “Ah…so blunt.” He smiled at the freckled boy. “Cameron, that’s only true if you give up before the real battle has begun. While it’s true that Elliot is a very determined person, if you do a good job of being a club president, then I’m sure Elliot will slowly come around. Show him that this club is as good an idea as we both know it to be and the light bulb of enlightenment will surely turn on in that stubborn head of his.”

Cameron reflected on The President’s words for a moment before he began to smile, though it was much less assured than The President’s smile was. “Do you really think so?”

The President nodded. “I know so.”

Cameron heaved another sigh of relief, The President’s words lifting his spirits up a little. It was going to be immensely difficult just trying to keep a newborn club functioning without Elliot being so deadset against it, but he felt a little more optimistic about it now. Besides, no matter how intimidating Elliot seemed, Cameron was never one to back down from a challenge.

“You know what…?” Cameron asked when a thought occurred to him.

“Yes?”

“For a stubborn guy, he’s kinda cute. You know, in that weird, pouty way.”

The President just laughed.


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To Be Continued.

Trigger warning for multiple uses of a homophobic/derogatory slur.



“Come on,” Aubrey's breathy voice whispered in the dark, “it’s no big deal.” What little space between them was then taken away when Aubrey closed the distance between the two of them; body against body, the only physical barrier between them the flimsy material of their clothes.

"Of course it's no big deal," Gabriel muttered back, echoing the other boy's sentiments, although his pounding heart said otherwise. He felt silly being the only one freaking out about the little game, while Aubrey, "as cool as a cucumber," didn't seem to care at all.

Nothing ever seemed like a big deal to Aubrey. His cool, calculating sky blue eyes always caught everything that went on around him without any sort of reaction. In a crowd, his gaze might pass over you, maybe even look at you if you were lucky, but he never really looked directly into your eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at anything in particular, he got into an almost dreamy state that was hard to break. He never frowned, but never really smiled either. He was as detached and cool as a celebrity, as the girls of their high school enthusiastically gossiped.

From years of casually observing the boy from a safe distance at their high school, Gabriel could only agree with them. Someone that cool and calm seemed intimidating, and it had always made Gabriel reluctant to approach Aubrey in hopes of getting to know him.

Yet here he stood, someone totally anonymous in comparison to Aubrey, locked in a closet with him! Gabriel wanted so badly to slap himself when the bottle had pointed towards him not even a few minutes ago. That one moment had lasted forever... The jeering of the circle had all accumulated into a swirling jumble of flirtatious and teasing chants and comments:

“Two boys? Sick!”

“Shit, man, you have to do this!”

Fire had seemed to gather in his cheeks. Red, hot, unwanted fire.

“Oooh, Aubrey has to go into the closet with him? Lucky bastard…”

Those calm eyes had only gazed at the bottle, dreamy and disinterested, before he risen from his knees, unaffected by everyone else in the room.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!”

There had only been that portentous chant when Gabriel was forced off of the floor and shoved into the closet where Aubrey stood, still and emotionless as a stone monument. In a brief moment, Aubrey’s eyes flittered over him, but not once did they connect with his. All that seemed alive in the world were Gabriel's nerves and the ever persistent chant echoing in the background as the door was closed, shutting the light off with it.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!”

Gabriel's eyes had gradually adjusted to the darkness, then it wasn't long before he found himself suddenly faced with another side of Aubrey that he never knew existed. Those once disconnected eyes were suddenly staring into his with a startling intensity. A devilish smirk tugged at Aubrey's finely shaped lips.

This wasn’t the Aubrey that Gabriel had stepped into the closet with. This wasn't the same person he'd catch a glimpse of in the high school hallways. This was almost a totally different person, and Gabriel's heart nearly beat right out of his chest at the realization.

Jittery from shaken nerves, Gabriel tore himself out of recent memories and focused on the sole alien feel of someone standing so close to him. He prayed that his anxiety didn't show.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” Came that cool voice again, this time a little lower and much closer. Gabriel tensed at the voice, the other boy's tone making him self-conscious.

“I—I’m not scared!” A lie.

“Are you sure?” A dare.

“Y—Yeah…I’m sure. Don’t worry about me.” Truth be told, he wasn’t sure…he wasn’t sure what to expect from Aubrey. He'd seemed so unaffected just moments ago, but now…it was almost as if he'd been plugged in, like he had been given a jolt and was suddenly present and alive in the world, instead of staring off into another.

There came a light, almost mocking chuckle. “Who said anything about me being worried about you?”

Gabriel frowned. How embarrassing! As if he didn’t already feel intimidated by the taller, more built boy. Now he'd just gone and made a fool of himself, the exact thing he didn't want to do. He'd never hear the end of this now. The seven minutes weren't even up yet and already it was going badly. Gabriel prayed that whatever happened next would be over and done with as quickly as possible.

Aubrey stared intensely into his, a devilish and coy smirk tugging at his finely shaped lips. “Ready?”

This wasn’t the Aubrey that Gabriel had stepped into the closet with. This was almost a totally different person, or at least a different side. That much Gabriel was sure of. But, different side or not, he couldn’t show fear to someone potentially stronger than he was. Gabriel nodded vigorously, ignoring the continuing jeers from everyone else on the outside.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!”

All that existed was him, Aubrey, and the task at hand.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Aubrey’s smirk deepened. He crushed his body against Gabriel’s without warning, eliciting a gasp of surprise from Gabriel. “Good. Because I’ll have you know, I don’t make it a habit of ‘making out’ with guys. But I have a reputation to keep. I’m not scared of anything and I’m not chickening out on a pathetic little game of ‘Seven minutes in heaven’…so I want this done once, and I want it done right.”

Gabriel stared up into Aubrey’s powerful eyes, his knees weak and wobbling.

“Oh you don’t have to worry. I’m not a fag or anything,” Gabriel responded, wishing he hadn’t had said it in such a manner. He had nothing against ‘fags’…but he wasn’t one, that much he was sure of. Aubrey said nothing, contributing to the awkward and apprehensive atmosphere of the tiny closet. Gabriel refused to give into the fear or the intimidation. It was now or never to get the embaressing situation out of the way. In one swift movement he stood on his toes and pressed his lips against Aubrey’s, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as he could, the only sound that seemed to echo outside of the closet and in his head: “do it, do it, do it!”

Gabriel fisted Aubrey’s shirt in his hands, pretending that the flat chest his hands were touching were voluptuous, soft, and full of curve. His tongue collided with Aubrey’s in a passionately fought duel for dominance, till teeth were brought in and painful and rough bites were added into the mix. He pretended that the person that he was lip-locked in such a heated fight with was one with long, bouncy hair and whose long, shaven legs went forever.

But no matter how hard he tried, all that Gabriel could feel and taste was all man. The chest his hands groped and fisted was full—but flat. The hair that brushed his cheeks was not long and full of bouncy curls that smelt of expensive hairspray, but was shorter—about the length of his own black and purple-dyed hair, and even if was a little strange, Aubrey's hair felt soft and it tickled him in a pleasant way.

Aubrey pulled away from Gabriel, panting heavily before he latched his mouth onto Gabriel’s neck, nipping, suckling, and kissing heavily as his hands quickly and thoroughly ran up and down his back. Slipping underneath his shirt and massaging his shoulder blades and the small of his back. Gabriel bit his lip, refusing to moan at the rough and delicious friction of Aubrey’s hands. He wouldn’t give Aubrey the satisfaction that he was actually enjoying this. Instead, he released the material of Aubrey’s shirt and began to almost mimic Aubrey’s hands, roughly running his hands up and down Aubrey’s torso, groping and feeling every inch of his upper body that was available to him. The chanting from earlier was a dim memory now, for what replaced it was quick and uneven panting and the out of place sounds of ruffling clothes.

Gabriel brought his hands up to Aubrey’s face and pulled Aubrey’s torturous lips away from his neck. Gabriel opened his eyes to look into Aubrey's sky blue eyes, twin pools swimming with desire, before he closed them again and forced those skillful pink lips back onto his, biting and licking at Aubrey’s lower lip. Aubrey opened his mouth and captured and drowned Gabriel in a heated kiss that stole his breath away.

Aubrey suddenly shoved Gabriel against the back wall of the closet, through a thick curtain of coats. Gabriel groaned when he felt something jabbing into his leg and adjusted his position. Aubrey took advantage of this moment and forced himself in-between Gabriel’s legs, driving his knee into a most intimate of places. Gabriel broke off their kiss and groaned at this new kind of friction, almost at Aubrey’s mercy. He arched his back against the wall, begging for Aubrey to grind against him, against that one spot again. His body ached for it and made it well known as he almost delicately ran his hands along Aubrey’s body in lustful worship, his lips forming words he never once realized he was panting.

Then the lustful ministrations stopped, much too sudden for Gabriel’s liking, and he realized that he was the only one still caught up in the dizzying haze. He opened his eyes and pulled back to look at Aubrey, who stared back, his expression as surprised and startled as if he’d been splashed with ice cold water.

“I…I’m not a fag,” Aubrey spoke out of nowhere, breathing heavy, cheeks flustered, and hands tightening on Gabriel’s body.

Gabriel could only stare back. He continued to pant, too far-gone to give a rat’s ass anymore about anything other than the warm body crushed against his. “Yeah, neither am I.”

With that said, they lunged into another lustful kiss, completely unaware of the prolonged silence, then the soft murmuring questions of the other teenagers from the other side of the closet door. Their seven minutes were long over.


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