He was the kind of boy who giggled.

To be 'funny', he kept his bangs pinned from his brown eyes with sparkly hair clips, which were usually an unnecessarily vibrant color. Most days he chose to wear jeans so tight they might as well have been spray painted on, leaving little to the imagination and distracting even those who didn't wish to be distracted. He owned purple converse with navy laces, and seems to have an endless supply of tight fitting shirts that rode up when he flailed his arms around-which he often did during the fits of excitement that overcame him. He was annoying, short, giddy, and frustratingly, he was the smartest out of all of them.

These were all qualities that made up who he was, but surprisingly, none of these were what was most interesting about him. When people at school talked about Adrian Vang, the first thing that came up wasn't the color of his shoes, but the fact that he was the only person Ezra Drake had ever hated.

A life of hating Adrian Vang was a complicated one. For starters, Ezra was constantly being questioned on his reason for being cold to the small boy who everyone else seemed to adore. It was always hard to find an answer that satisfied the integrator, but perhaps that was just because Ezra really didn't have a good reason; he just hated everything about him. When he tried to investigate this in his own, he couldn't exactly explain why he hated the things he did about Adrian, he just understood that when he looked at the other boy, really looked at him and took in everything there was to take in, something inside him burned. Burned with the deepest form of hatred he'd ever come to know.

He hated Adrian's quirky smile, hated the way his eyes crinkled and shrunk in size when he was overjoyed, hated his sweet laugh and the way his cheeks flushed with happiness, but nothing about Adrian's delighted expression really bothered Ezra. It just the idea that Adrian was happy that had him scowling into his hand so no one caught his distaste and told him off for disliking such an "angel". Ezra despised this so called sweetness, but even he didn't understand why it made him feel the way it did.

Every so often he would get called racist by people who had caught him eyeing the underclassman in distaste, or scowling in his general direction; Ezra both quite often. Just because he's asian doesn't mean you have to look at him like that, was one of the most common accusations, but that was probably the one issue that he didn't have with Adrian. Anyone who really knew anything about Ezra wouldn't even think to accuse him of racism.

It was a known fact-actually, maybe not so known with the number of people who'd accused Ezra of discrimination due to race- that Ezra had been adopted at the age of two by undoubtedly the happiest couple in the world. They were young, infertile, and one hundred percent Korean.

So no. Ezra had no problem with Asians.

The mystery of his hatred towards the small boy remained unsolved, even to Ezra himself, and he decided it was bound time that he fix that.

Ezra sat in the back of his English class, surrounded by the three boys from his soccer team who had the privilege of being known as his close friends. There was a notebook in the center of his desk that was covered in his messy scrawl with bullet points that varied in size down the left size of the page. Written after each were the many reasons that Ezra hated Adrian, and he had come up with all thirty of them in the last twenty minutes. Spencer, his best friend, kept glancing at the paper, and then to Adrian.

Adrian was sitting at the front of the class, his hands folded on the desk in front of him as he looked intently up at the teacher who was speaking in monotone about some book that involved a kid named Holden Caulfield. Ezra had deemed this unimportant and boring a while back and decided, as he usually did, to do his own work- if it could even be called that.

Ezra studied Adrian for another moment before creating another bullet point on his page, this on slightly larger than the last. His tiny hands, he wrote, and Spencer snorted from beside him. "Dude, what's with your obsession with the kid," he asked, and Ezra dismissed him with a shake of his head. He created another bullet point. He's a Sophmore in a senior language arts class, (and he's the only one passing). "You know, the average teenage boy thinks about sex like, ten times per minute or something like that. You think about him that often. He's your sex".

Ezra ignored the last part. "By the average teenage boy do you mean you?"

Spencer read what he had last written and snorted, sitting back in his chair as Ezra continued to watch the Adrian from the back of the class. Today, he was dressed even more obnoxiously than usual. His short legs were covered in skin tight pink jeans, and he was wearing a thin white v-neck that displayed his defined collarbones, and, as if that wasn't revealing enough, the shirt was practically see through under the school's light. To top it all off, his brown hair, that was just long enough to hang in his eyes, was pinned back with a white bobby pin.

Bullet point: He has no sense of modesty.

The bell rang and Ezra snapped his notebook closed. Before he could follow Spencer out of the classroom a voice called out to him. "Mr. Drake, could you come see me at the front of the class for a moment?" The old man they were forced to address as Sir asked and Ezra froze. He shared a quick look with Spencer, who had paused in the doorway, and his friend shrugged before leaving him. Reluctantly, Ezra turned back towards his teacher.

It was then that he realized Adrian had yet to move from his seat. The door slammed behind the last student, leaving just the two of them and their teacher alone in the classroom.

"Doesn't he have to leave as well?" Ezra questioned, his eyes moving from Adrian to the old man who looked between the two of them. Adrian hadn't looked Ezra's way yet, and it bothered him a great deal. He made a mental note to put it on his list, and then wondered how to phrase it, settling with, Isn't as fascinated with me as most gay boys are, after a few short moments.

"Actually," the teacher began and Ezra once again focused on him, "this involves both of you". Quickly, Ezra glanced toward the younger male once more, finding him unsurprised and attentive. The fact that Adrian had been let in on something that involved Ezra before Ezra had was slightly frustrating, and he took a moment to relate a shaky breath before speaking.

"It does?"

"Indeed, Mr. Drake. We have a problem, young man" The teacher, whose name Ezra, for the life of him, could not remember (and had been unable to do so since the second day of class) started before cutting straight to the point, "as of yesterday, you are officially failing this class, young man". Ezra shrugged. "Young man, You may not be aware of this, since you don't seem to be the kind of student who keeps up with his grades-" Ezra felt as if the man was trying to upset him, but it was true so he simply blinked, "but you already have two other failing grades, making this your third, young man". His teacher paused, as if to let his words sink in, but at this point Ezra was mostly focused on the fact that the old man overused the words young man and it made him seem even more ancient than he already appeared. "Mr. Drake, You are only allowed two F's in order to play a sport". This caught his immediate attention.

"Wait, what?" He demanded, his voice coming out much louder than he had planned. Clearing his throat, Ezra began again. "How is it even possible to fail this class? All you have to do is come and listen".

"And you haven't exactly been doing either of those things". This was the first thing Adrian chosen to say, and he had down so with what Ezra found to be an uncharacteristic soft voice. The boy hadn't even bothered to look at him as he had spoken, so Ezra was left to glare at the back of Adrian's head.

"And you've noticed?" Ezra spat. Adrian didn't respond, only raised his head to their teacher, waiting for him to continue.

"Mr. Drake, you have failed to complete the last three major assignments and have yet to read any of the assigned books. Now I've talked to Coach Roberts, and he has agreed to allow you one month to get your grade up before he kicks you off his team, young man. During that month, to assure you don't get discouraged, you will be forbidden to participate during any games until you have at least a D in one of your three classes that you are failing". Ezra's mouth dropped open slightly. Briefly, he debated whether or not he should argue the unfairness of all of this, though upon considering it for a moment, it did seem pretty fair, and an outburst could only make it worse. Silently, Ezra moved to the front of the classroom and dropped heavily into the seat next to the person he most despised.

"This where Adrian comes in," the old man began once more. "As you may know, Mr. Vang is our star student of the class and a fine young man," Adrian smiled up at their teacher with very white teeth, and Ezra frowned at the compliment, thinking about how Adrian's ego didn't need more inflation. "He has agreed to tutor you for the next month". Ezra's mouth popped open again in surprise, his eyes shooting to his teacher who somewhat smugly smiled down at him. Old bastard.

"No," He protested once he overcame the shock the previous statement had put him in.

"Young man-"

"Mr. Smith," Adrian addressed the old man, "let me". The small boy stood from his seat and bent to pick his bag up off the floor. Ezra averted his eyes until the younger male straightened. For the first time that day, Adrian turned to face him. "Ezra?" It was said as a question, as if Adrian was asking for the correct pronunciation of his name. Ezra grit his teeth, because everyone knew the name Ezra Drake in their school, and the implication that Adrian was somehow above Ezra related gossip peeved him. "Walk me to my next class?"

For the sake of soccer, Ezra agreed.

While he wasn't happy about it to begin with, he was even less pleased when Adrian made him hold the door open for him. As soon as they were out the room the sophomore turned to him. "Look," He began, his voice firm for such a small person, "I know you don't like me," understatement of the century, "but you need me".

"I don't need you," Ezra insisted, tilting his head to look down at the boy. "I could easily ask someone else for help". As he said this, he realized it actually wasn't that bad of an idea. His mind began to form a plan, but Adrian's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Adrian said, crossing his short arms across his chest, "Who? That friend of yours, what's his name, Spencer? He knows even less than you do. That won't get you very far". Ezra blinked. That wasn't really true. Spencer was actually very smart, though there was no way that Adrian would know that since it wasn't like Spencer came off that way. His friend had a problem with applying effort, or that's how Spence had always explained the issue, and Ezra feared that Spencer would view tutoring him as effort. "Look, we don't have to bond or anything, I'm just gonna help you with language arts, and you're going to try your hardest".

"Or?"

"Adrian, my Asian!" Adrian ignored whoever had called his name, but Ezra couldn't keep himself from peering curiously over the boy's shoulder. It wasn't hard to spot the pretty blonde girl making her way over to them. Despite himself, Ezra couldn't keep himself from wondering who she was, or why she was close enough to Adrian to have a borderline offensive nickname for him.

"Or," Adrian looked less than pleased that the conversation was still going on, "you get kicked off the soccer team and become a huge disappointment. The choice is yours".

With those final words, the sophomore turned on his heel and met the girl half way, and Ezra sighed in defeat, because it really wasn't much of a choice.

***

"So what?" Spencer asked, trapping the soccer ball under his foot before kicking it back towards Ezra, "he's going to teach you how to read?" Soccer practice had been canceled due to Personal Reasons of their coach so they were simply standing in the field talking as they passed the ball back and forth.

"I know how to read, dick. Besides, I don't think I'll have to do much work. If I can pull the right strings, I'm sure I can just get him to do everything for me". Ezra kicked the soccer ball a little too hard to the left, resulting in Spencer calling him a name and going to chase it down. With a heavy sigh, Ezra dropped down onto the field. Looking at the goal to his left and then to his right, he recalled many of the times he had scored on this very field, and how loud the crowd got every time he touched the ball, knowing it meant something promising. This- Soccer- was his life. He loved playing and didn't know who he'd be without it.

It was something he was unwilling to find out.

Adrian was right- even though Ezra really didn't want to admit it. He needed him. If anyone would be able to teach him, to make him actually understand (which he would need to do if he was going to get above an F and maintain it), it would have to be someone who really really understood the topic, and the only person who did wore rainbow colored vans. Adrian was his last hope. If he wanted to keep playing soccer, or even go to college, he needed the other. Without Soccer, Ezra had no scholarship, and even with his scholarship, he didn't have the grades the state college was looking for.

Spencer returned in his line of sight, leaning over him to make a face before dropping down alongside of him. There was something he wanted to say, Ezra could tell, since Spencer was rarely quiet this long. Ezra just sat and waited, his eyes closing as the breeze blew against his face. "Do you think Adrian Vang is a virgin?" Spencer's words had Ezra's breath stuck in his throat and he sat up quickly, coughing as he tried to get it back.

"What the fuck?" he asked, looking down at his best friend, whose eyes were still on the clouds above. "Why do you want to know such a thing?"

"I don't want to know," Spencer tried to explain, "I'm just wondering". Ezra wanted to point out that this didn't make any sense, but to his displeasure he found himself considering the question.

Was Ardian a virgin? He certainly didn't dress like one, if that made any sense. It was safe to assume that Adrian was gay, but it was harder to judge whether or not he was a virgin. It was like asking if the inside of a doughnut was filled when the only way to find out was to take a bite out of it and see for yourself, and Ezra wasn't that curious. No. He wasn't supposed to be curious at all. Spencer was curious, not him.

"Well?" Spencer asked, and Ezra shook his head.

"I don't know. Probably. He's a sophomore". Ezra himself had been a virgin when he was a sophomore, so why wouldn't Adrian.

"Do you think he's ever given a blow job?"

"You're sick," Ezra said, climbing to his feet and picking up the disregarded ball from where Spence had left it in the grass. "Why would you even ask me such a question?"

"Well I was just wondering because he plays the saxophone, so wouldn't he give good blow jobs?" the idiot asked and Ezra shook his head, wondering what kind of blow jobs Spencer had gotten before that made him think playing the saxophone would make one good at giving them.

That reminded him though- Another thing that Ezra didn't like about the sophomore was that, even though he was an underclassman, he was still given first chair in the high ensemble saxophone section, and had possessed that spot for all of his freshman year as well. Ezra never saw how this was fair, but when he tried to talk to Daimon, a senior the year before on the soccer team who had lost first chair to Adrian, he had said that Adrian deserved it and was a great person and do you have a problem with asians or something?

"I don't think that's how it works," Ezra grumbled, less than pleased with himself for contributing to this conversation for any time at all. Wanting to end it as soon as he could, he asked, "Are you coming over?"

Spencer propped himself up onto his elbows, his blue eyes squinted against the sun as he spoke. "No, I have plans. Where are you off to so early though?"

Ezra couldn't help but sigh loudly, tucking his soccer ball under his arm as he bent to retrieve his backpack. "As you know, Adrian is my tutor for English and he has yet to give me his phone number, which I need so we can discuss when to meet up". Ezra was disgusted that he was about to go to the band room to find Adrian Vang and ask him for his phone number. Spencer looked extremely amused.

"Idiot," Spence said, snorting loudly and Ezra threw the ball at him.

"At least I can score a goal. Maybe you should practice while I'm at it". And with that he left his friend, along his soccer ball, behind.

Ezra couldn't remember if he had ever gone back inside the school after hours, and wondered why on earth anyone would want to. The halls were eerily empty and dim lit as he made his way through the language arts hallway in order to reach the music room. He had only ever been in the room once before, and that was the first day of his freshman year when a senior girl had lead around his small group of classmates and showed them every single classroom in the place. All he remembered about the band room was where it was located, at the very end of the language arts hallway where only nerds and friendless people and Adrian went.

He pushed open the door and the first thing he noticed was how large the room was. It was at least three times the size of his biggest classroom, and there were rows and rows of plastic chairs formed in a 'U' around a podium at the front. Ezra went and stood in front of it, taking in the vastness of the space around him. He kind of understood how this room could be relaxing, at least, while it was empty.

He was about to accept the fact that he'd have to do this later- probably in front of others which would be super embarrassing- but before he could leave, a sound reached his ears, and he turned his head. The wall to his right had multiple doors, each leading to a practice room with a large window to show the inside. In the room closest to Ezra stood Adrian Vang, his eyes on the music stand in front of him as he played a dark silver saxophone.

Ezra listened, but the practice room was almost completely sound proof, so all he could pick up were faint pitches, each surprisingly sweet, coming from a saxophone– which Ezra had never really liked.