The next morning finds Sam in a perpetually grumpy state. I fill him in with the details of (most of) the night and he quickly calls Alana, asking her to keep his secret under lock and key. She promises not to talk about it but I'm still worried. There were a lot of people there that night, a lot of people all capable of talking. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Sam's sexuality were to come out, but he wouldn't be comfortable with it either.

I left the house for my English lecture an hour ago, promising Sam that I would return with food and I idly wonder what I should bring him.

My thoughts are interrupted by a piece of scrunched paper, which lands on my portion of the desk quite neatly. I look behind me briefly, not immediately recognising anyone so I pick it up and toss it into the bin beside me.

I continue taking notes diligently until I'm interrupted by another piece of paper, this time folded and passed to me by my neighbour. I frown at it and open it carefully, reading the words messily written across the page.

Meet me behind the English block at midday or your best friend's secret won't be such a secret anymore.

I roll my eyes, my temper flaring momentarily as I scrunch the paper within my fist. What kind of lack of humanity? I stuff the paper into my bag, concentrating purely on my notes until our professor dismisses us. My face is contorted into a thunderous expression and it's no surprise to me that everyone avoids me like the plague, parting like the red sea to let me pass.

There's no doubt in my mind about what I'm going to do. I'm going to go and see Sam. There's no way in hell that I'm going to be manipulated into a possibly dangerous situation just so someone can blackmail me. So, I'm going to go and tell Sam. At least this way he can prepare himself.

I storm away from the campus, my thoughts clouding my rationality. I glance up to cross the road but something catches my eye and I freeze. I had been so caught up in what I could possibly do to help him, to make this inevitable change easier to adapt to and the answer is seemingly right in front of me.

I enter the shop in front of me and rifle through the different sizes until I find one that I think might fit. I hold it up, grinning to myself at how horrendously ostentatious it is. It's perfect.

I take it to the cashier, who gives me an amused look but says nothing, which I'm grateful for. I pay for the shirt and tuck it into my bag gently, grinning to myself all the while. I walk back to our flat, my posture and gait completely changed to how it was only moments previously. I feel lighter and happier; I have a plan.

I unlock the door and wander in, only now realising that I had forgotten Sam's snacks.

"Elias?" He calls from upstairs and I sigh, trudging up them reluctantly. I poke my head into his room but he's not there. I roll my eyes and move into my room, not paying any notice to the giggling lump beneath my duvet. I fling my bag down and collapse on top of the lump, laughing to myself as he cries out from the impact.

"My bed feels so lumpy today, I wonder why?" I ponder aloud and Sam groans from beneath me.

"Get off me! When did you get so fat Elias?!" He says, although his voice is muffled. I let my arms and legs fall haphazardly, still not moving to get up.

"What is that strange noise?" I ask myself, smirking as I feel a meagre punch to my right shoulder.

"Eliiiiiii!" He shouts, nudging me off him and I slide gently off the bed and onto my feet. I rip the covers away from Sam, who looks puffed and red but is still smiling widely, enjoying my playfulness.

"Oh, were you there the whole time? Why didn't you say something?" I ask and he sighs exasperatedly.

I smile faintly, not feeling good about having to break bad news to him.

"I need to talk to you." I admit, falling into my desk chair with a heavy sigh. I might as well get it over with whilst he's here. His facial expression drops and he eyes me carefully, tugging my blanket around him as though it'll keep him safe.

"Are you breaking up with me?" He asks seriously and I roll my eyes, cracking a smile for his benefit.

"No, would you be serious for a second?" I mumble. He nods and sits up further, looking partially intrigued and slightly nervous.

I open up my bag and retrieve the scrunched piece of paper, holding it out to him. He takes it slowly, reading the words. His face morphs into a panic-stricken expression, his hands running through his hair and tugging at it viciously.

I bring his hands down, his eyes flickering to me wildly, a desperate look burning within them.

"What did you do?" He asks, glancing at the clock. It's past midday already and I sigh, almost ashamed that I had taken the high road.

"I came straight home to talk to you." I admit, watching as Sam's shoulders collapse in relief.

"Good." He breathes and I frown in response.

"You would have killed her!" He explains and I frown even more.

"Her? You know who wrote this?" I demand and he winces, huffing at the position he's managed to worm his way into.

"Yeah, it's Yasmine's handwriting." He mumbles, getting up and strolling into his room. He returns, sheepishly holding a napkin from last night, the same handwriting depicting her name and presumably her phone number. I shouldn't be surprised, it's not a very original plot twist, but I find that I am surprised.

I inwardly groan at how psychotic her behaviour is, I thought people only behaved this way in reality TV dramas. I really hope she doesn't start stalking us or something.

"Well, I figured you should know. I know you didn't want everyone knowing but I refuse to be blackmailed about something that you shouldn't be ashamed of in the first place." I murmur and Sam nods, his face is settled into a miserable pout but he doesn't argue.

"I'm so sorry you're in the middle of this." He admits, resting his head in his hand. I shrug, smiling to myself slightly.

"It's ok. I have a plan." I say firmly. Sam looks up warily, not trusting my plan voice.

"What is it? You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?" He asks and I shake my head, my mouth forming my signature crooked smile.

"It's merely a distraction." I state, attempting to reassure him but he still looks uneasy.

"Trust me, you won't be what people are talking about tomorrow."

_

The next morning, after an evening fraught with anxiety for Sam, I am up bright and early. I shower slowly, taking my time and when I get out, I take even more time with my hair. I usually let it flop in whatever direction it dries in, but today I'm making an effort. I brush my hair and part it, letting it dry in the most appealing style. I pull on some black skinny jeans and my favourite trainers before grabbing the shirt from my bag.

I pull off the tag and tug it on, careful not to mess up my hair. It fits perfectly and I know for a fact that no one will miss it; they'd have to be blind in order to.

My bag is sat beside my desk and I rush to stuff my extra books in, thankfully remembering my assignment that's due in today.

I decide to wear my glasses today instead of battling with contacts or partial blindness, my self-confidence a little higher than usual thanks to Sam's compliments and my outrageous outfit. I glance at myself in the mirror on my wardrobe, nodding to myself and pulling on my jacket.

I have a lecture in the morning and in the afternoon, so usually Sam meets me for lunch before his afternoon lecture across campus. I leave my room quietly, letting him sleep for a bit longer and close the door gently on my way out.

I walk the short distance to campus, noting that I'm running a few minutes behind. It's not an issue, our lecturer is always at least five minutes late, so when I push the door open, I'm pleasantly surprised to see that I'm right on time.

I throw my bag down beside my usual seat and remove my jacket just as our lecturer barrels into our new topic. There are whispers here and there, but overall everyone is forced into silence as we listen to the droning sound of our professor's voice.

My new shirt is tie dyed; pretty much every colour you could imagine which is a shock to my system, but I'm growing accustom to it. On the back, written in block capitals are the words 'ASSUME NOTHING' which I thought was very fitting. The little chest pocket has a little embroidered rainbow on it.

It's gained attention, as most rainbow coloured things do, but I'm far better at ignoring whispers than Sam is. I'm also far less approachable. The lecture ends quickly and I have a good three sheets of notes. I gather my things, tucking them into my bag and waltz out of the door. I don't bother to put my jacket back on and meander over to the bench where Sam and I sit for lunch. He's already sat there and when he spots me, his jaw drops.

I grin at him, dropping my bag and falling into the seat opposite him.

"Jesus Christ." He mutters, his eyes wide and I laugh.

"Yes, my child?" I respond, making him roll his eyes heavily.

"Elias, what are you wearing?" He asks eventually, meeting my eyes with his disbelieving gaze.

"My new favourite shirt." I reply, shrugging as I pull out a packet of crisps from my bag.

"God, when you said you had a distraction planned I didn't expect..." He trails off and I realise that people must already be talking about it.

"Expect?" I ask, indicating with my hand for him to go on.

"This!" He explodes, gesturing wildly towards my shirt.

"There's nothing wrong with my new favourite shirt." I huff, adjusting my glasses and Sam sighs.

"You're wearing your glasses." He states, and I nod.

"I am."

"You hate wearing your glasses in public." He states again, a question hidden beneath his words.

"You said they looked good, were you lying?" I ask, my hand reaching up to remove them.

"No, of course not!" He says, swatting my hand away, "I just didn't think you cared what I thought." He continues and I roll my eyes at his ignorance.

"Well, they help me see things better and if you think they look good then I trust your judgement. It's win-win." I reason and he nods, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"They make you look smarter." He concludes and I groan, pulling them off my face.

"No! It's a good thing, like you look intelligent and mysterious and shit." He adds, watching as I tuck them into the chest pocket of my shirt.

"Well, with the glasses and the shirt, it's no wonder that people aren't talking about you." I say dryly, still in a state of disbelief that people can be distracted so easily by such trivial things.

"I think people are very shocked. Usually you look like death, today you look..." He trails off, frowning uncomfortably as he tries to find the right word.

"Different?" I provide, but Sam shakes his head.

"Hot." He confirms, a light blush tinging his cheeks.

"Don't I always look hot?" I ask lightly, mock offence entering my tone as Sam snorts.

"Yeah, but it's a different type of hot. This is more of an artsy hot. Like add a beanie to your outfit and suddenly you're an art student with intense feelings and a misunderstood past." He drawls and I laugh at his description.

"Good to know I have options; if I ever want to change my look." I say and Sam nods thoughtfully.

"Did you brush your hair too?" He asks and I nod, bending my head down so he can see. He runs his hand across it and scoffs.

"It's so soft, how come you get hair like Cole Sprouse and I get stuck with this?" He exclaims, pointing at his unruly curls. I personally think they suit him very well.

"Who's Cole Sprouse?" I ask, unscrewing the lid to my pot of grapes and popping one into my mouth.

"Only like, the hottest guy to ever exist." Sam mutters and I nod cautiously, not exactly gaining much from his explanation.

"You know, the twins from that show on Disney!" He encourages but I shake my head.

"Never had the Disney channel." I explain and Sam sighs heavily.

"Oh, you poor, poor deprived child." He says sadly, stealing a grape. Sam's phone buzzes and he glances at it, smiling at the message.

"I have to get to Spanish." He mumbles, glancing at me sadly and I shrug.

"You'll be fine, be proud of who you are." I insist. Sam rolls his eyes but smiles gratefully nevertheless.

I put my glasses back on, grab my bag and walk him over to his lecture.

"You're going to be late." He warns and I shrug in return. I see him safely enter the door before jogging in the opposite direction. Sam's right, I'm late and all eyes are inevitably on me, but I don't care.

I can take the whispers, the obvious stares and sly glances. I can take it all because even though I hate the attention, I care for Sam more.

It's easy as that.