The room was a mess. The boxes loitered the floor. Even the sun hid from the disaster that the two-bed, single-window, two-desk room openly displayed.

Keith placed his hands on his hips, leaning on one side. He blew his hair away from his face gently, his long hair doing nothing but bother him. Someone might assume that after having so many different rooms in his childhood, Keith wouldn't mind the cluster. He did. The side/half of the room that he previously claimed was nowhere near done and now there was regret about not moving in sooner. Thankfully, his roommate wasn't there, he realized. He was sure the mess would increase as more boxes inevitably came in. The room wasn't made for two silly little men to share. He doubted the women were any happier with the room size.

The box set on his bed seemed to stare at him, the clothes sitting inside, urging him to set them into his drawer. The temptation was null. Organizing this entire room felt like a waste. This was a temporary solution to a much bigger issue. He has to walk down to the student center later in the week to see about getting transportation and accommodations. Something he felt would be permanent enough for the next few years as he studied. His eyes skimmed through the room, the enthusiasm for the task ceasing entirely, as if the mere thought of it wasn't enough to send his body shivering... convolving in place.

His hand outstretched and grasped the fabric of a t-shirt. It still smelled like the last time he had worn it and the old, 50's themed house he lived in when he was seventeen. The sour memory hits him like a truck. He hasn't touched it since, even if it was what he wore when he said goodbye to the system. That part alone had been sweet.

"Am I interrupting a nostalgic moment?". Keith looks up, the door open. Open hands perched against the door and holding the majority of a muscular man's weight. "I'm Shiro. I think you're my roommate."

Keith offers an awkward smile. "Depends. Room 205? you're in the right place. I think you left me an email about being roommates?"

"The one you failed to respond to? Yeah, that was me."

"Sorry", a silence filled the room and Keith looked back down at his shirt. He dumps the entire box onto the bed, disregarding what he had previously been thinking to get through the chore.

"Keith, is it?"

"Mhm," he sneaks another look at Shiro, immediately having to do a double take when he notices he's carrying two country flags. "You're Japanese." His words came across as assertive, like fact rather than a question, which he meant.

"Yeah... sort of... funny how they put two Asian men together. doesn't seem that much of a coincidence now, does it?" Shiro smiled. This was a joke. It wasn't a laughable joke. If anything, it was a jab at the system for not seeing how insulting or discriminatory that might feel. To Keith, it was neither.

"Don't overthink it," Keith had to respond to ease the tension he only imagined existed. "They don't think shit over twice."

Shiro faced Keith fully after placing the flags on his bed frame. They take a good, long look at each other. Both unnadmitedly tried to learn the other. Keith even memorized his clothes with only a second. Shiro had a scruffy, gym rat, dad kind of countenance. He's gay! Keith's lips slightly parted, readying himself to speak. He didn't know how to start. There wasn't an exact giveaway of the facts but Keith could not be any more 'sure' than he was at that exact moment. 

In that exact duration of time, Shiro focused on Keith's unkept, long hair and his Converse. Red. Shiro's eyes slowly trailed from his gloves; fingerless, to his golden anklet. If his outfit hadn't been enough to convince Shiro that Keith was queer, the use of gold-colored jewelry was a clear seal of the deal. "My, uh, partner and I were going to celebrate today, but... they had to miss out on the pre-semester festivities"

...

...

...

Shiro was testing Keith, eyeing his reaction to 'partner' instead of 'girlfriend'.

"Oh... Your partner? cool..."

"Maybe you'd like to join me instead. Drinking is always more fun in pairs."

"No... never. I don't do parties, I'm afraid. It's worked for me until now and I don't want to change my luck-"

"Please."

...

Both of them stayed perfectly still, their breathing being the only thing that made their chests rise and fall. Keith shifted his weight, grabbing a strand of his bangs to play with as he thought of an excuse. He had thought of one before another second had the chance to pass, yet... he didn't deny it immediately. "I'll have to change, won't I?"

"Not at all."

Keith considers this...This is his first party... his first gay roommate too, he's sure of it. He shouldn't make such a big deal of it but it is. To him, it is. there is a presence, a third person in the room and its name is Fear. Keith felt it strongly... the presence of it. Something about the way Shiro carried himself made Keith eager to get to know him. Something about the experience was sure to teach Keith something and he was sure Shiro had more than one thing Keith could learn from.

"Sure, then."

"Do you... like men?"

If Keith was a sinner, it was because of his sexuality. If anyone were to describe Keith at all, however, they would not say he was a liar. He kept to himself, was lazy...sure...a liar he was not. "Yeah..." He scrambled to extricate the words from his throat. "And you-"

"I do," Shiro made an O with his hand, bringing that same hand to his mouth, using his tongue to noticeably move his cheek outward twice. The insinuation made Keith audibly cringe but it was perfect to get his point across. As soon as the man stops, he makes a point by hitting Keith's back. This makes Keith chuckle.

"Alright, I get it. Don't call me single in twenty-four languages."

Shiro had to smile, patting the younger boy's arm. Suddenly, he stepped back and Keith responded with a similar smile. Pregaming for a party was always the safest option (considering how awful some parties were), but Shiro would forgo drinking tonight altogether. Matt assured his presence. He had promised not to leave him alone. Keith looked trustworthy enough to have around Matt and sadly, trust was needed in someone if they were going to be introduced to Matt.

Lance excitedly threw a beer to someone, his crop top lifting. He had to push it back down, angry he had been stupid enough to make a bet with Romelle. The crop top had been her idea, or rather, her stupid suggestion. He had been sure he'd triumph. He doesn't even have to wear this...technically... Romelle isn't at the party. The commitment had already been made... it was too late to back down now. The crop top is Romelle's... Lance's current and only best friend.

Allura was here too, of course. That didn't ease his mind after what had previously happened between them. It was awkward to admit that he had confessed feelings for his best friend's secret girlfriend by accident. He had outed a perfectly beautiful, perfectly queer lesbian.

"Ha!" Matt swallowed down another beer. Lance gave him a pitiful glance. He, Matt, was on the verge of turning red from all the consumption of the substance. He was a fun drunk, Lance had to admit to himself. Nowhere near that point and weary of Matt, Lance set down his beer and made a point to distract Matt from the drink in his hand.

"WHO HAS THE FUCKING AUX? THIS IS LAME!" Lance roared, his eyes closing as he awaited an answer. Fuck... "Matt, go find the aux cord," Lance urged in an unhushed whisper, his hands slipping over Matt's as he talked. He kept direct, intense eye contact to convey seriousness and keep Matt keen on his words. The strawberry blonde nodded and handed his drink to Lance without a second thought.

Amateur... Lance glanced down at the bottle in hand. Gradually, a devilish grin crawled into his lips. The crooked smirk revealed his nature. The contents of the drink spilled onto the hard floor quickly. Beer spilled and splashed onto the tiles of the fraternity. "Whoops." Lance flipped the bottle back upright and fixed it down on a table nearby. His blue-white vans transported him from one side of the room to the next.

A couple of girls, sorority sisters dressed in sparkly pink and 8-inch heels each stared Lance down. Lance lifted his chin slightly to establish his height over them a little more clearly. " Ladies," He said enthusiastically from behind. "Care to join me for a dance?" One of them chuckled, covering her rouge lipstick with a hand. The silence didn't last a lifetime, but for him... for Lance... it had.

"No-"

"Sure!" One of the girls... the one who had chuckled looked at her friend in surprise. The eagerness extended past her face. Lance could tell by her legs, one crossed in front of the other, even in her standing state; and the hands tightly held in front of herself what she was feeling. He had felt it too. Lance's confidence grew irrevocably and desperately sky-high.

"Excuse me." Lance threw the girl's friend a dirty look, his hands, without even having to pull away, reached for the shorter one's arms, tenderly tracing down with only his fingertips until he was sure he could reach for her hands to break them apart.

In a beat, he had pulled this girl away, hands guiding hers, his arms extended to place room between them; room that would be used to create tension. He spun her around, estimating her hand placement so that by the time she had completed 360°, he could grab that hand again, continuing to turn her while holding both hands until an added 180°. This done, her arms were now crossed in front of her. His warm hands cupped her even warmer hands as he pulled her closer, stepping even closer himself. He knew what he was doing. This was a mere party trick. Nothing had or would be showcased at a dumb frat party.

"Oh"

"Oh?"

"You can- dance..."

"Don't step on my feet"

"I won't... I think."

Lance smiled sweetly and he leaned down to put his cheek against hers, pulling her further back until their bodies touched and heat was plaguing the atmosphere. She pushed her hips back. Lance replied by teasing her hair. He'd continue until he tired of her.  She pulled their cheeks from their position, turning her head until she could look up at him. The colorful lights did her more than justice.

Nervous, she turned around to face him. Her eyes scanned his face; something he had twisted into a smile. Hands trailed his chest and lower. She bent down, running her hands over his legs, using his thighs as support on her way up. Lance took a small step back, a blush creeping over his face. Nothing was noticeable in the dim lights but the widening of his eyes had surely given him away.

Allura had other plans. Her quick steps should have been an indicator of her emotions. With a quick flick of her hand, Lance was drenched in water.

"No. No way. Hands off of the freshman, Lance."

Lance pulled himself away from the girl and Allura alike. Gasping. his crop top stuck to his body. "Allura!"

"No... She's in my sorority, Lance. I'm not watching you toy with my sisters."

"I wasn't! We were having a promising time!"

Allura dragged the girl away, the girl's eyes pleading with Allura but not brave enough to speak up against her will.

Lance knew the pink dresses were part of a sorority night bonding. Even Allura had joined what he knew she thought were stupid sorority traditions. Lance wrung his crop top out, his jeans thankfully barely touched by the water. When Allura looked back at Lance angrily, he childishly stuck his tongue out at her. Now he'd have a harder time finding a chick to take to bed. The scene had built up several glances. Girls stuck together like glue and he would remain characterized as a fuckboy for the rest of tonight.

Shiro pushed Keith in. They remained outside for a minute just to give Keith space. Enough had been enough. Shiro knew that Keith's only problem was stepping outside of his comfort but that wall would have to break down tonight.

"Wait, wait!" Keith whispered urgently. Two drinks. Two drinks and he could leave, Shiro had promised Keith to make him feel more comfortable. Had it worked? Maybe in a small proportion. Keith was by far in 'his element', although he hadn't even found 'his element' yet. If Keith had to take a wild guess, being in his room, cuddled up with a book would best describe what he thought his element was.

Shiro, on the other hand, had dominated every aspect of uni way way back. Perhaps even his freshman year. Now, he liked all the intricacies of study/life balance. As he pushed Keith forward, he kept an eye out for his friend. Matt had to be nearby. He had to be.

Lance had stolen the Bluetooth with his impeccable charm. A flirt here, a smile and an eyebrow raise there... he had the password for the speaker and he wasn't going to change his mind now . As quickly as he had access to the music, he changed it to benefit his own selfish, mischievous plans. In his twenties, who wouldn't want to listen to the oldies? He was so dead wrong. "Teenage Dream" blared through the speakers. Katy Perry started her slow beat and the buildup. The dance floor had been pretty dead but now? "Teenage Dream" was a 'Bop', a hit, an absolute banger of a song and everyone knew it. Only by taking someone's hand, he gave a few people some confidence to white girl dance across the Frat floor with the old-as-fuck frat Harwood. Those few gave even more people a chance to jump aimlessly to the beat.

The amplitude of the noise was enough to send Keith home with his tail between his legs, defeated. "Shiro," he clung to him like a child.

"Relax. just find us some drinks and come find me, I'll find my friend!"

"Shiro!" (Don't leave me alone). He was gone before Keith could say what he thought. Keith swallowed nonexistent saliva. Fuck, he whispered under his breath. To find drinks, there was a clear, singular option. Keith scurried quickly along the wall to find what he was looking for. His hand gently ran along the ugly wallpaper. The biggest fear of all was letting his gaze fall to the floor. Something that he often did. Doing this now would result in nothing but a bruised ego and a spilled drink... something he might need to replace and God, he did not want that. He did not want to have to talk to anyone except Shiro.

He found a cooler, bending down to open it and steal two closed beers. His loose hair quickly covered his eyesight. The beers were damp and holding them felt wrong. Instantly, he wanted to put them back down to find something else to hold the beers with. He didn't. With a single kick, he closed the cooler. Keith looked around for Shiro before he started to move in no particular direction, simply anywhere from his position. There was a line forming behind him for the cooler. Where were the bars you could order anything from and the makeshift slides? Frat parties had nothing to do with movies he'd watched.

Keith slouched, arms pressed against his body until he could press them in no further. Sticky floors made his shoes feel even heavier. The stickiness was due to spilled drinks, he was more than sure. That and whatever else they did here. He realized that having these thoughts only made his face outwardly show his disgust for the insinuation. Keith decided to push himself through the dance floor. Now, after walking between these horny, uncivilized, uncultured crowd he convinced himself that it wasn't so bad, despite his previous cringing. The only thing that continued to truly work him up was whatever this 2010's music was. What even was this music, he thought reasonably.

Shiro wasn't difficult to spot. He'd found him somewhere on the sofa, holding the back of a boy's head.

"Keith!"

Hearing his name, Keith squeezed the beers in his hand, walking slightly faster toward Shiro. "Hey, I got the uhm..."

"Don't worry about him, he's tipsy at max."

"HEeeY," Matt waved frantically at Keith.

"Maybe a tad over tipsy," Shiro added.

Keith skimmed over Matt's clothing... He was in casual wear at max. It made Keith a little more relaxed. He pressed himself onto the sofa with them, handing Shiro his drink. Matt cackled at absolutely nothing and introduced himself to Keith. The first impression was... concerning...  It made Keith wonder what Matt and Shiro had alike. On the surface, the only similarity seemed to be the growing care they held for each other.

The few words exchanged between the two appeared to Keith similar to code. Most of the speaking was done through glances and micro-facial expressions.

"Keith, what's your major, man?" Matt raised a question.

"I don't know... I mean... I don't know what I'm good at. Formally, Communications but... I don't know if that's what I really want, you know?"

"DUUUUUDE," Matt giggles "I geEeeET it!"

Keith takes the cap of his beer off with his teeth, spitting it out onto the floor. There's a bunch on there anyway. Shiro follows in his footsteps by opening his with the corner of a nearby table. Keith holds his bottle tightly in his hands, right over his lap. Bubbling and cold, the drink feels foreign and he can only stare at it. This might be his first party and he might hate every second of it, but there was one thing he wasn't going to miss out on... drinking. With a swoop of his hand, the beer tilts back against his lips. He takes a big gulp, followed by three more.

Shiro cheers, a chuckle escaping Matt's lips. "Alright!"

Keith nods, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose. He burps as silently as he can. "Fuck me".

Lance changed the song for the fifth time in a row, a group complaining at his feet. "Sorry, Sorry. Not the vibes!" He sticks to 'Party In The USA'. Lance throws his head back as he laughs, his dimple showing prominently. He'd given up his dreams of getting laid but maybe just maybe he'd end up passed out on this floor in the morning and that was a good, close second to getting laid. Anything that would leave him dumbfounded and exhausted in the morning would be a ten out of ten.

He jumps on top of the table, screaming... singing... the words alongside his group of like-minded party people. He starts jumping up and down on the table, his legs spinning him around like a very clumsy, oversized ballerina. Vans stomped and kicked the contents of the table away, leaving space for him to dance to his heart's content. Hands were raised in the air and Lance copied, giving whatever he wanted a special twist.

By twist, he meant a literal twist. His hands waved around like an Arabian dancer might move, his legs covering large areas around the table. He was good at that... showing off...

Keith finished his beer and he stood up to grab another. He shot Matt a quick smile. Their conversation went further than the superficial. He hadn't thought he'd go with the full orphan sob story with anyone until he was sure he could trust them but both boys had somehow managed to get him to say it aloud. Likewise, Matt shared photos of his little sister, or rather 'The most important thing in his life'... like he had expressed. Something about Matt drew Keith in... maybe his crazy nature or the absence of respect for rules.

After arriving at the cooler, he opened it, only to reveal half-melted ice and water... "What the fuck?"

"In the kitchen," Someone chimed in while brushing their shoulder against Keith. The response to that was an immediate pull away and hard ignoring. Him and his shaggy hair brushed shabbily in front of his face tried to find the kitchen. Brows furrowed tightly on his face, he got a few odd looks. He was delighted by his resting bitch face all of a sudden. He touched some warm bottles of beer on the counter. Disgust found its way to his face, sitting there before he pulled his hand away. Warm beer? What an atrocity, he thought. Beer, of all things, should never be warm. Putting ice in a glass for their beers was somehow even worse of an atrocity so he looked around for an alternative.

Keith aimlessly walks around the kitchen, opening the fridge. These beers have names... Names? Or Labels? Keith can't tell the difference and he doesn't care either. He yanks the labels right off, holding two beers in his hands and a third with his pinky finger. He uses his hips to close that fridge door.

Walking back through the living room to the sofa, the table tips over.

Lance might have outdanced himself tonight but without anything on the table, the legs trembled violently. Once he had stopped, begging his crowd for a break, alongside the girl he had pulled up there with him. Both of them were on one side of the table (she had followed him to that same side, he might want to add), and now the table was very quickly tipping over. Lance shrieked, arms flailing. The cold, sticky floor was a rough impact. He stayed on the floor dramatically with his eyes closed, holding his ego closely. The first thing he did was place his hand on his heart. "Ouch," He shifted his hand to the back of his head, rubbing it gently as his eyes fluttered open.

Shit. He looks up at this guy with... shocked expression and hands full of dripping beers. A drop fell on his forehead and he flinched, eyes shutting quickly. He sits up instantaneously.

"Need some help? You good, man?"

"Yeah... I'm fine... your beer bottle dripped on me!"

"It's closed...so"

"Nuh-uh!"

Keith gave him a deadpan look... he wasn't having it, clearly, and this fed Lance up. "Whoa whoa whoa... hey!" He looks Keith up and down in a judgemental way. He grins widely as soon as an idea pops up. "Are those cold beers"

"My... My cold beers, thanks for noticing."

Lance quickly grasps the bottom of Keith's skinny jeans as he starts to step away, keeping him in place. For a second, he wonders if this guy will kill him just by the way he looks back at him. Lance's eyes widen and Keith's gaze narrows, making him look friendlier than whatever his face had looked 2 seconds ago, surprisingly. Lance took another second to get the words out. "I'll make a bet with you for those beers..."

"No, no way".

"Are you a coward? Think you'll lose?" Lance shouts over the music.

...

...

"No, it's just pointle-"

"Chicken! Hey everyone, WE HAVE A CHICK-"

"SHHHH"

...

"FINE," Keith adds.

"Bet you can't chug two beers faster than me. Warm."

"That's dumb".

Lance considers this as he stands up. He towers one or two inches over Keith. "You're really scared I'll win".

"This is dumb and immature"

"So? I'll win... I'll get attention... I'll probably get laid and share three cold beers with two pretty girls... and if you win... you keep the beers and I'll do your homework for a week".

"A week?"

"A week".

"Any week?"

"Any week," Lance reassured Keith. He regrets it instantly... This means that if Keith wins, he could choose a week right before finals.

"You're on!" Keith smiles, setting the beers down. Lance springs into action, arriving with four beers, spectators, and 'Funnel and tube'. Excited to start, he hands everything to Keith. Someone lowers the music to catch the attention from everyone.

Keith keeps his eyes glued to the floor. His heart is beating rather quickly. This might be the stupidest idea he had ever committed to but it was too late to back down now, especially in front of everyone. He side-eyes this tan boy, judging his crop top and low-rise jeans. Keith gets in position and Lance explains the rules to the crowd. There wasn't much explaining to do... he...Keith... had to finish the beers as fast as possible. Faster than this scrawny-ass man, at least.

Lance got into position and a girl dipped beers into their funnels. Keith sucked on that sucker like his life depended on it. In the next few moments, as he continued to chug without giving himself time to breathe, he thought about how unsanitary this was and the atrocity he had committed to his mental health.

As soon as he finished, he sat back, gasping for air and holding his head. Soon after, he heard the clapping. He was too focused on breathing normally again to notice or care. He coughed slightly, hitting his chest before he burped. He looked back at Lance, his face something he hadn't expected. Defeat. Something lingered there, like anger or something else. Keith couldn't quite decipher it. The guy's mouth was open, and his breathing was as ragged as Keith's but his bottom lip trembled gently. His brows were furrowed, just like Keith's but they were also slanted. Keith's gaze softened as he looked on.

"My uh-," Keith cleared his throat. "My beers."

Lance shook his hand, pshaw-ing him as if saying 'Yeah yeah, go ahead and take them' in a very condescending way.

Keith stood and grabbed the beers and the cheering continued. He physically had to push through people to get back to the sofa where Shiro and Matt were now standing, clapping for Keith.

"I have never been more proud of anyone in my entire life," Shiro said with lighthearted laughter. Matt only smiled and quickly reached for a beer in Keith's hand.

Keith's eyes glance to the side before he slowly turns his head to steal a glimpse of what was happening behind him. His eyes widened after seeing a tan, freckled boy already smiling and talking to someone else. Just a moment ago he was... Keith pushes the thought aside, looking forward. He giggles, smiling at Shiro.

"I did a good jOoob", he whisper-yelled close to his ear before plopping down onto the sofa, sprawling onto the sofa and kicking his feet up onto it, shoes and all. Matt giddily moves Keith's feet and sits down too, pulling Keith's feet back onto his lap.

Shiro considered the best course of action to watch the two boys... he set down his beer instead. "I have to babysit two babies? Don't tell me you're both drunk.

"I'M NOT DRUNK!" Keith exclaims angrily, pointing at Shiro. Matt gives Shiro a knowing look and starts laughing.

"You're just Matt in another body... you're tipsy, come on... Admit it. But hey, I told you it'd be worth coming."

"I'M NooOT DruuNk".

Shiro laughs and throws himself on top of Keith. Keith lets out an 'oof', quickly scurrying out of the sofa and laughing loudly. "Suckers!" He spins around. In a second, Keith squinted in his half-drunk state. The beer, he realizes, is taking quick effect on him and he would continue to deny that all night and for the rest of his life if he had to. Without thinking, he opens his beer with his teeth again, taking a sip. The next sip is stopped by Shiro pushing the beer down.

"Easy. Let's take it slow, alright? Some water first."

"No!" Keith complained like a toddler, pulling the beer back to his lips before Shiro yanked it from his hands.

"Keith," He gets cut off by a runaway Keith.

The stringing lights make Keith feel lightheaded. He doesn't stop anyway. He's on his way to the door but right as he thinks he's close to touching it, he bumps into 'Blue Eyes'. "Blue eyes!"

"Whoa!" Lance skims Keith up and down. Keith takes the beer from Lance's hands and he has no chance but to give him a questioning glance as he stares. "Excuse me," he says to the person he was talking to, dismissing them.

Keith's weight shifted, his footing unstable and sloppy. The beverage in his hand looked off... crooked... bending, just like the ground beneath his feet. A gentle hand grazed his cheek, the tan, freckled skin lingering and pulling away just as quickly as he had noticed it. The entire night would be a blur in the morning, he reassured himself. Even the flashing lights and the warm face in front of him made those thoughts certain, or perhaps the boldness he failed to notice Shiro showed him with narrow eyes and a furrowed brow.

"Keith, right?", The other boy slurred.

"Uh-huh~" Keith responded, just as quickly, just as slurred, just as desperate for a quick answer as Shiro dragged him away.

"Name's L-"

"NOOOO" Keith whined, too far away to hear the rest of the boy's name.

Shiro dragged Keith away, not even giving him a chance...

The next thing Keith knows, he's throwing up outside and after that... the dorm room in the morning.