Dear universe I know you hate me, just so we're clear the feeling is absolutely mutual.

It's like one of those situations where someone's grandma dies, and you are supposed to be feeling sad about it but in reality you don't feel all that sad. Because it's not your grandma. Not like my grandma is dying. She is already long gone to hell. Thank god.

What I am getting at is that this is one of those situations where I should feel bad or at least pretend to feel bad, but me being the jerk that I am, I don't. I am too tired to deal with any of this; the consequences of my actions. All I can think about is taking a sip of the coffee in front of me that I paid for before it gets cold.

“That's it? You are just going to be indifferent about this?” Noah asks.

He doesn't even try to hide the frustration from his voice. I can't blame him. In all honesty, I would be frustrated myself if I had to deal with me on a Saturday evening in any scenario where I am not in my room with beer and Netflix.

“Yeah. It's okay with me,” I say back.

“Are you fucking kidding me! You won't even ask me why!?” he asks me, trying not to raise his voice.

What did this motherfucker expect? For me to get on my knees and blow him in the middle of the café? The image flashes through my mind and I almost let out a laugh before I realize the situation I am stuck in.

I stare at him. Noah is handsome. No doubt about it. Dark hair, warm brown eyes which are blazing at this moment, sharp jaw and what I notice most is his lips. It's always soft when it glides against mine. But never have I ever thought about the man being with me when I wake up in the morning tomorrow or a month from now. I wake up alone in a small bed meant only for me; I prefer it that way.

“Will me asking or saying anything change this situation?” I ask nonchalantly.

He snorts. “No, Because you are an asshole who forgets that he has a boyfriend unless you want to fuck.”

He makes it sound like he wasn't desperate to be all over me every fucking hour of the night and sometimes day too.

“You knew exactly what kind of asshole I am and still got into a relationship with me,” I tell him.

Noah narrows his eyes. If looks could kill I would be six feet under. It sounds like a sweet place to be compared to here. But, this mam knew what he was getting into when he wanted to date me, I had told him very clearly how much I suck at keeping relationships.

“Yeah. My fucking mistake.” he snaps and gets up and leaves without a backward glance.

I sigh and lean back in my chair. I inhale the dark, rich and sweet smell of the café. Not many people are here and that's precisely why I chose this café. I take a sip of the coffee from my cup and frown. It's cold. Damn it. I slide my chair back, get up and leave the café.

At least the café is close to the dorms. So I don't have to take a cab. Money saved is money earned. I walk slowly, taking my time, but my mind is thinking about the shower I desperately need. I am hitting the shower as soon as I reach my dorm room. The streets are busy as always. The air is dry, and I can't wait to be inside my room.

Just as I reach the entrance to the dorms, I notice four people sitting around on one of the tables that are positioned in front of the entrance, laughing hysterically. My eyes lock with one of them. A beautiful familiar pair of sea foam green eyes. He immediately stops laughing. His expression morphs into that of concealed disappointment.

Instead of being bothered by this I give him my most cocky smile, which I know will rile him up. Just as predicted, he glares at me and bites his bottom lip probably to stop his scowl. Involuntarily my eyes track that small gesture. I don't let him notice this though. Only Everett Garcia could look that good while being pissed off and plotting murder in his head. I hate to admit that as infuriating as this boy is he is just as good-looking. So of course, I get distracted, it just can't be helped but he definitely doesn't need to know that. He doesn't bother looking at me anymore and just turns away. His soccer letterman jacket getting crooked in the collar. Fucking irritating.

It's not like I don't get distracted by other hot guys. He is just one of them. Except the fact that he absolutely hates me. And, I him. But I also love to imagine what lies beneath all those layers of clothing. Just for my brain to immediately give me another image of me pushing him off a cliff.

I suppress a groan as I continue walking towards my room. The scholarship that allowed me in this university allowed me to have the money to pay for a room with no roommate after I fed them some lies about my desperate need for it. Pulling strings has always been easy for me. Anyway everybody will just think that I can afford it because of my father anyway. Nobody likes to think too much into the truth of matters.

The room in itself isn't anything big or amazing but at least it I have a place to live. It's not decorated with anything either. It has a clean bed and a desk, that's all I need.

Just as I was about to enter the bathroom my phone starts ringing, and I groan in annoyance. I look at the caller ID to see the theater manager is calling me. Simply speaking, my boss. Even though the scholarship covered the tuition it doesn't cover the dorm fee or my living expenses, so I have to work to earn it. So I pick up trying to suppress my grunt and failing miserably.

“If this isn't important I swear to God-” I start.

“Hold it right there because if you complete it you are fired.” he says.

I can practically imagine him grinning from the other side. Working part-time for the same boss for two years has made our employer-employee relationship weird. Just plain weird.

“I won't say it then, but I assure you I am definitely thinking about setting fire to all your underwear and nice socks.” I tell him.

“Et tu, Brute?” he says dramatically playful, and I laugh at his ridiculousness.

“So you gonna tell me what inspired you to call me minutes after my break-up? It's like you know I had a bad time, and now you want to rub salt to the wound.” I say.

“A break-up? again?” he asks with an exasperated sigh "Kid you need to make an effort for shit to work out, besides you and I both know that you didn't want to be in a relationship with that guy in the first place. More importantly though I called to inform you that I need you here one hour early to set up last minute stage set design. The others are busy with other shit. So can you do it?"

I don't even have to think about it to answer since I have literally nothing to do tomorrow.

“Sure.”

“That's too fast a reply for a college student. Get out and party kid. You ain't getting any younger. Make friends and have fun and not the kind of fun that ends up with you in a bed with a stranger. You have too much of that kind of fun already.” he says.

Now I don't like being told what to do with my life, but Carl here is an exception. Because he isn't someone to tell other people how to live, but he is one of those people who will insist that you live your life to the fullest.

“I got friends. You're my friend” I say with a smile.

“I am fucking 45 kid. You need friends of your age to wash away a bad break up with some company and vodka.” he says.

“How do you presume it's a bad break up?” I ask.

“The moment you started dating without knowing the name of that boy it was written in the stars that it was going to end bad because It always ends bad when you don't want it.” he says.

It's the truth. I didn't put in any effort to make it work. I have never put in effort in any of my relationships to make it work. Especially the romantic ones. I am more of a see-a-hot-guy-then-fuck-and-forget guy. I don't really believe in relationships that involve me in it.

“I guess I am a masochist then.” I say.

Carl let out a laugh “Well I really hope you don't let yourself hurt too bad.”

Too late.

“See you tomorrow boss.”

He groans. “Do. Not. Call me that”

I laugh and then cut the call as I head off into the bathroom to wash away the foul feeling caused by today. At least I got to rile up my enemy. Well not an enemy but more like the boy whose head I want to rip off of his neck. I have no idea why I do it. Except how fun it is to get Garcia railed up. It's just so easy. There is no point in doing so. But at this point it's become a habit. To see him lose a little of all that composure he has carved into him just because of my cocky smile.

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Hey guys!

PLEASE READ:

A few days back, I had a very disturbing conversation with one of my fellow readers. Something they said about gay relationships was honestly fetishization.

Many of you in here might not be familiar with the concept of fetishizing gay relationships. But it is a very common practice here in wattpad.

Many popular books (bxb and gxg) practice this. And usually I avoid those books and just let them be, but now I feel the need to address this issue.

Most readers or writers here adress the Main characters as 'top' or 'bottom' as though it is a personality trait. People are not just sex positions. They make it so that the 'top' is more assertive and the 'bottom' is shy. This is just to feed the sexual fantasies of the readers.

There are usually sex scenes where the 'top' forces the 'bottom' to have sex. Or the more dominant person forces someone to be a 'bottom' Even though they are not comfortable with it.

This is definitely not how gay relationships work. Most gay men are versatile and those who are not practise communication. They discuss what they like and do not like. Anal sex is not the only kind of sex. There is nothing wrong with writing sex scenes, it's just how you write them that matters.

Fixating over sex positions is not healthy. Just because a person is generally shy or physically small or blonde haired does not make them a 'bottom'.

I have also come across many comments such as "he can't be a top". Why not? How did you come to the conclusion that he cannot top a person. I'm sure that he has the genetials necessary for the act, then why cannot he top?

Also, to all the writers, please stop using 'yaoi' as a reference to write your stories.

Once a gay friend of mine came across yaoi and he was honestly hurt by the representation of gay relationships in them. Yaoi fetishizes gay relationships and even rape.

Stories like this potray toxic relationship and nothing close to the reality of a healthy gay relationship. Even if you read these stories for the kick of it, I hope you know that it is toxic and not reality. Readers of these books rage from the ages of 13-18 years, and these stories will give you false information on gay relationships. So, to all my young readers out there, be more understanding and questioning. Even my stories are purely for enjoyment purposes.

I'm sorry for taking up your time, but I'm glad you read this. I hope you educate yourself more on this topic.

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is my . If you guys want to contact me, I am there.