here were many things Lee could appreciate about Rushil. In fact, he had a mental list of Rushil's top qualities and right at the top of the list was Rushil's less-than-masculine approach to friendship.

Lee supposed it had to do with Rushil's upbringing—being raised by two women stomped out the toxic masculinity from Rushil's biological father. But whatever the case, Rushil wasn't the type of guy to say No Homo and peace-out of the conversation.

Rushil thumped Lee on the chest before swinging away, arms out. "Just saying, dude. My roomie's single, I'm single, we're all single. We are just a solo men's club, the four of us."

"What four?"

"You, me, my roommate, and Ezra."

Lee laughed at the mention of his RA. Ezra Ness, otherwise known as the Resident Dad and Resident Assistant on his floor at Manley Hall. The only reason Rushil even knew Ezra was by pure coincidence. Lee and Rushil had been studying in the Manley Hall study room when Ezra crashed in with a roar that shot Rushil's soul straight out of his body and onto the Moon. They really hadn't talked aside from that one interaction, but Rushil was convinced that Ezra Ness was now a permanent member of the OChem Struggle Squad.

As Lee tried in vain to argue against Ezra's inclusion in the matter, they crossed the campus in no time. Rushil would have none of it. "That man is the face of a nation. He could probably command the entire dorm swear loyalty to him and they would."

"The only reason he'd be able to command it is because of that distracting voice of his," Lee said. "Talking normally is whispering to him. We're all lucky he doesn't have a roommate or else we'd hear him blabbering on from down the hall!"

"What'd I tell ya! The guy's made for big crowds and leading the people. Hashtag My President."

"As if he'd even run for management, let alone student president. You know he's only an RA to pay for housing," Lee said, but he couldn't deny the fact that every kid on his floor loved Ezra. Ezra didn't get the title Resident Dad for nothing. He rolled his eyes and said, "Well, the guy could probably put his fist through a wall and everyone would cheer. If that doesn't scream charisma I don't know what does."

"Fascinating."

"You know, one time, I was half naked, swapping boxers, and this idiot Ezra barges into my room saying it's Smash Bros time because evidently that's a thing that happens every fucking weekend and I'm over here like, 'Sounds gay, I'm in,' but insert me in nothing but a pair of Waluigi boxers—"

"Wait, why Waluigi?"

"Because they're purple. We've been over this, Rushil. Anyway—"

"What about Smash Bros is gay?"

"Rushil, do you not have ears? Listen to me say the name. Listen, listen—Smash. Bros."

"Sounds gay to me." The voice certainly wasn't Rushil.

Rushil shrieked like a school girl and slapped a hand over his mouth. Lee cursed and spun around, only to curse again because he was so close to putting God on the phone and saying, "I'll see you in court, bitch." Lee truly did feel haunted by his past mistakes since Karma just served him a silver platter made of Milo Park and his own social incompetence.

It took Lee a solid second to come to terms with the fact that he was within spitting distance of The Man Himself. The Hunter Legend, USFC Football Star, the one, the only, Milo-fucking-Park standing on the steps of the university gym like he was supposed to be there, within Lee's general vicinity.

Lee said the first thing that came to mind.

"Excuse me?"

As much as he regretted the sass, he figured he might as well get it out in the open and flush it out of his system. He was determined to make a good impression even if his self-control screamed otherwise.

Park was just standing there, looking between Lee and Rushil before taking the final few steps down to them. He had a hand hooked on the strap of a gym duffle slung over his solid, stocky shoulder. His eyes were bright and, in the sunlight, a light amber. It was the first time Lee had seen them in person beyond Starbucks lighting. All this time he had thought they were just plain brown.

Not that... there's anything wrong with plain brown eyes. Evidently I'm more of a hoe for brown eyes anyway, he thought.

His existential crisis lasted all of five seconds before Park was talking again and pointing a finger at him. "Oh, hey, barista guy!"

Barista guy? he thought, eyes wide. Fuck, he recognizes me. Shit. Crisis mode initiated once again.

"I, um. Hey—"

The guy pointed a finger to himself and said, smile wide. "Do you remember my name? If you do, I'll be seriously impressed. I mean, I come in every day but still. That's gotta mean something."

"Y-Yeah, Milo," Lee croaked.

All of the heat in his body compressed into the singularity and erupted in his cheeks. It took less than two seconds for his entire face to feel like the high density temperature state just before the Big Bang because by then, Rushil was staring at him and putting two and two together like the stupid, idiotic, ignorant genius he was.

Fuck.

Milo put a hand up with a laugh and said, "Nice! High-five. What're you doing with my buddy Rushil?"

"B-Buddy?" Lee stammered, gingerly touching his hand to Milo's.

"Oh!" Rushil said, voice cracking. He stepped up beside the two of them and gestured broadly, saying, "Milo, meet Lee Asano. Lee, my roommate Milo Park, whom... you've... already met... at... Starbucks."

"Does this mean I get discounts now?" Milo said.

Lee swallowed at the hint of Milo's accent. He suspected as much just from the passing conversations he caught at Starbucks, but now, in the sunlight, Lee could see it clear as day. Milo had a distinctly Latin American accent that lilted the end of his sentences and caught Lee lingering on every word.

Because of his lingering, he nearly forgot to answer.

"No, I charge interest," Lee said before he could stop himself. He slapped a hand over his mouth and thought, Cool it with the sass, mister! "I-I mean, I'm not allowed to give friends discounts. I barely get a discount on my own drinks as it is."

"Fuck Starbucks then. Free drinks for all, man," Milo said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Solid economic plan. You should run for president," Lee said, as if his humor wasn't already as dry as the Sahara Desert. He blamed it on their conversation about Ezra.

Milo stared at him and Lee felt like an alien. His brother always said his sarcasm was unseemly and cold, and Lee never thought he'd care until that moment. He willed a god of some kind to smite him dead right then and there, but alas, he still had a court date to attend to.

His heart was beating so fast he thought he might faint.

When Rushil clapped his hands, it sounded more like a nuclear bomb. Both Milo and Lee jumped at the sound and Milo put a hand to his heart and said, "Jesus, I thought a gun went off."

"No guns here, folks," Rushil said. He slapped his hands onto Lee's shoulder and, likewise, Milo's shoulder. "Lee's joining us for dinner at Lockhart Hall."

"I am?" Lee squeaked. Rushil gave him a pointedly narrow stare, at which point he regretted accepting the offer. "Oh, no, I should probably just... go back to my dorm."

"Really? Are you a freshmen too, then?" Milo asked.

Lee swallowed hard and tried not to faint. Thankfully, Rushil answered for him. "Yeah, he lives at Manley. I go to study with him sometimes."

"Oh! That's who you sneak off to. All this time I thought it was a girl," Milo said.

Rushil rolled his eyes. "He's more into guys, so—"

RUSHIL! Lee's brain screamed. He wondered if Rushil could hear it, because a second later, Rushil flinched. Rushil shrieked and Lee realized it was because he was unaware of the fact that he had Rushil by the arm, pinching him relentlessly with a vice-like grip between his thumb and index finger. He held on until Rushil cried uncle.

"I am this close to beating you with a stick," Lee threatened.

"Bite me," Rushil snapped. Lee took a threatening step towards him.

"Kinky," Milo said.

Rushil recovered long enough to slap Milo in the arm and shove him in the direction of Lockhart Hall. The heat in Lee's face ruptured in his ears where his heart was already pounding. He put a hand to his hair to keep his head from floating off into space.

Distantly, in some far away plane of existence, he heard Milo ask, "Why do you always go to Manley Hall? You've never invited him over to Lockhart!"

Rushil squeaked and cried, "This is why I haven't invited him over!"

"Me?!" Milo whined, voice squeaky. He slumped into a miserable moan and said, "What did I ever do to you?"

Lee hurried after them, pressing the back of his hands to his cheeks to cool them down. It was no use, though. He would never be able to recover. He was certain that in one month's time, his obituary would declare the cause of death to be humiliation in the face of his ultimate crush. It would have been a relatively swift recovery were it not promptly followed by said crush saying the word 'Kinky' in front of him.

Milo walked with an arm around Rushil's shoulders like they were a couple, and Rushil looked as pleased as ever as they walked from the gym to Lockhart Hall. Lockhart Hall was the newest dorm facility on campus and therefore, housed the majority of underclassmen athletes. It was close to the gym, had the best dining hall, and the best view of San Francisco's epicenter: The elegant Golden Gate Bridge.

USFC boasted the best of the university experience as well as the city life. They were amidst the hubbub of the best tourist destinations and on the edge of the greatest view in the city. In another life, if Lee wasn't allergic to sports, he might have been more keen on taking runs across it to clear his mind on foggy days.

The Lockhart dining hall was across the road from a wrought iron-gated ledge overlooking the colored rooftops across the city. It was at one such window that the three of them converged on an empty table nearest the view. Lee paused to stare out past the street rails and over the trees. They were up high, overlooking the park, and there was a group of tourists standing at one of the outlook posts taking pictures.

"Makes you think we're actually special being here," Lee said to Rushil. He glanced over and Rushil shrugged.

"I don't know. I think the only reason I got into Lockhart Hall is because of dumb luck," he said.

"Dumb luck, my ass," Milo said.

Rushil scowled at Milo and barked back, "You're literally an athlete. They're required to give you a room here."

Milo put his nose in the air and beamed. "And I'm proud of it."

Rushil huffed with a roll of his eyes. He dismissed himself to get food, and so Lee watched him march off. Rushil made it to the half wall before turning around and putting his thumb up. And then, he winked.

I'll skin him alive, Lee decided, fists clenched over the back of his seat.

"So have you been to this dining hall before?" Milo asked.

Lee blinked, looking away from where that smug rat disappeared. Milo was watching him, his head tipped to the side like a goddamn puppy. Lee stepped away from the table and Milo followed.

"No, not really. When I toured they took us through here, but that's about it."

"Then I'll show you around," Milo said. He reached for Lee, and the next thing he knew, Milo's hand was on his elbow like they were about to waltz or some shit. Lee's skin prickled as Milo walked him from one end of the dining hall to the other, naming off the foot spots and dessert plates and, let us not forget, the protein shake bar.

This place really is for athletes, huh? Lee thought as Milo walked away from the counter with a protein shake in hand.

He rejoined Lee and said, "You look like you work out."

If Lee was drinking he would have spat it all over Milo's face. He sputtered uselessly for a second before squeaking, "I—what?"

"What? That's not an insult."

"Excuse me?"

"I just said it's not an insult!" Milo cried, and Lee grew flustered the instant he realized that Milo was flustered. Milo removed his hand from where he had it at Lee's upper back, guiding him along down the salad bar line. He put it in his hair and sighed, "I mean that it looks like you work out. We've got, like, the same body build going on."

Lee stepped back to stare at him, completely flabbergasted. "What's that supposed to mean? And no, I don't work out. I don't think I've ever worked out aside from running to catch the bus."

Milo's eyes brightened as he gasped, "You're serious? Dude, I'd be down to show you around the gym some time. I've been looking for a gym buddy but all the guys on the team are absolute bulldozers. We don't run on the same wavelength, if you know what I mean."

Lee's heart was shot. He was certain it wasn't even moving anymore and at this rate, his obituary would be printed in a week's time rather than a month. "No, I really don't."

"I mean, I work out every day but it's no fun when your gym buddy's on the other side of the gym doing a completely different thing because they've got a different regimen. I could just put you on my regimen and we'd, like, build you up from the ground up. You'll be ripped by the end of the semester."

"The end of the semester is in forty-three days," Lee deadpanned. Milo's excitement paused to consider the specificity of Lee's answer. "I keep track. And I eat too much whip cream for working out to make a difference. At that point I'll just be cancelling out my sugar intake in a day."

"I—Wait, how much sugar do you eat?"

"Dude, I work at Starbucks, in case you forgot. You put it together."

"I didn't forget," Milo said. Before Lee could read into that and twist it into something it absolutely wasn't—Midnight Lee would get to reel over it later that night—Milo added, "Come on, it'll be fun! I'll give you my number, you can text me your schedule, and we'll work something out."

Milo punctuated the end of the discussion by dropping an empty plate into Lee's hands. Lee stared at him and managed a shrill, "O-Okay," because really, he couldn't breathe for shit.

a/n: Updating every Tuesday and Friday from now on :)

What do you think of Milo?