Today is a new day, same old start. Except today I start at a new college. Something I forgot to mention before, most people don’t like me. There’s a lot of fear and even hatred towards me. I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I’m different. It doesn’t really seem logical to attack me. I’m stronger than them, so much in fact that at the last college when lunged at I kicked the guy across the room and he fell through a window. We were on the third floor. He’s ok, but once something like that happens you have to run. You just have to. The worst bit is that I always get the blame. Its’ his fault really, I’m the one trapped in a cheesy zombie movie. But they said that he never knew how strong I was. So in future I might carry around a flashing sign saying, ‘don’t attack; trained to kill’.
So new lesson plan, new building, a new start. This time it’s a local college, not a private one. (My adopted parents have enough money to send me where ever, so they sent me to private schools. They just wanted to give me the best start.) Usually I find myself targeted for two reasons; my looks and my orientation. Here’s the biggest bomb shell you will ever hear from me; I’m secretly gay. I have to keep it a secret as I’m the last in my line and there’s huge pressure for me to marry and have lots of children. All this stems from my grandfather, he’s not part of the modern world and he is very homophobic and racist. Oh and the slight problem that he has enough power and men to have me executed. He’s threatened me since my parents died with his power, repeatedly telling me he’d rather kill me and get re-married. So no one outside of my adopted family knows. Except sometimes I fall for someone and they turn against me, so word spreads then I get attacked. Any way I hope this change of price tag will help, it’s my last chance to get some form of education. Luckily I get to carry on my course at this college and they’ve arranged for me to take the same exams. My first lesson is art, the best place for a creative mind to start. I walk in guided by a friendly helper who took me on a tour of the campus. It seems quaint and cosy. It’s old and has charm, like an ivy trimmed cottage, but it’s not falling apart at the seams. The art rooms are quite small and the walls are mostly windows. A tall shaggy haired figure turned to face me. His eyes darted up and down noting my features. A smile tore across his learned face. It was clear that this man was no ordinary teacher; he had experienced everything life had to offer, and maybe more. He seemed friendly and slightly eccentric but that was just for starters. Around me were several clusters of desks, cluttered with people now looking up at me. They looked like normal art teenagers. Me, I must have looked like someone from another world. The man scuttled towards one cluster, and swiped the occupying folders on to the floor. He signalled for me to sit down in the newly cleared space, and I did so willingly.
Something darted past my eyes. I snapped to it and saw it was a harmless butterfly. It wormed its way into the ceiling. Above were thousands of threads. All of different colours, and formed an unearthly mass. Another butterfly flew past my nose, this time its movements were robotic and carefully planned. Bobbing left and right, focusing I saw the string. Then I saw the hand attached to it. Realising I was back in his reality, the strange teacher sat beside me. His posture was awkward and slanted. He sat with one leg crossed, the other curled beneath the chair. His head tilted as he flicked through my leather bound folder. Clutched tightly in his left hand was a golden muffin that glinted in the light. On top of it was perched another butterfly. He tilted his head back and dropped both the butterfly and the muffin in his mouth. Turning, he muttered, “You look strange, you’ll do well here. You’re not stiff like the others.” Suddenly he jumped up and onto the back of the chair to introduce me to the class.
Finally twelve o’clock arrived. So far this place was the best I’d been too since my arrival in England. The atmosphere was amazing in the art rooms, although very strange but that was the best part. I was hungry when dinner time arrived. I headed towards the dining hall with ease. The campus was small and not as complicated as others I’ve been to. The girl who had shown me around in the morning was outside the canteen’s heavy double doors. Just as I’d placed my hand upon the doors she grabbed my arm tightly. I caught sight of the commotion below. Three guys sat at one of the tables whilst 4 guys stood around them. Just as I turned my head, the reflection of metal drove into my eye. It was a gun. One of the four guys was pointing what seemed like a hand crafted gun at one of the sitting men. My vision flitted through the crowd of people. Not one of them was a member of staff. No one with authority was there. I was the only one who had a chance of saving the man’s life.
Getting into the hall unnoticed was relatively easy. Now all that remained were the stairs. I had no chance of being able to get down the spiral stairs without being noticed. I’m good, but I’m not super human. “Yeah you with the curly hair.” The voice was cocky and belonged to the man holding the gun. His voice echoed with a sense of hollow power. “I saw some pics of you on face book,” he jeered, turning his head toward his sniggering companions for support. “I saw u n that guy friend of yours wearing a dress. I bet you take it up the...,” before he said another word the base of my boot collided with the back of his skull. I knew where that sentence was going. I’d been there myself. I’d felt that pain and I wasn’t going to let it happen to someone else. Especially since there was a weapon involved. As we both hit the floor his companions lunged at me. But it was too late. The first one’s face met my fist. The second met my other fist. And as the man beneath me started to stir my feet clasped themselves to his waist. He screamed. And flipping backwards I threw him into the other goons. My instincts had taken over. I could feel the hundreds of eyes on me in shock and awe as the first two goons lunged at me from behind. Still on my hands I pushed and launched myself on to my feet. I’d missed the ground and found myself balanced on the ball at the end of the handrail. I felt the burst of wind as the emergency door flew open. My jacket began to flutter in the strong wind and the two goons were still gazing up at me. Their faces were pale. The scent of sweat and urine carved its way into my nostrils. Yet I stood firm, still balancing. Still with an evil grin on my face.
As the goons were dragged away by armed police officers I began to relax. My instincts had turned off. The crisis was over. I leapt down with grace from the tiny ball. Everyone fell silent as I approached the curly haired man. It was the first time I saw the guy face to face. His chocolate brown hair was wildly curly and slightly longer than my own hair. His delicate blue eyes were large and clear. They stared up at me in wonder. I felt my chest burst open as those soft pale lips split open. His voice was caring, yet still shaky. His frame reflected the wavering tones in his beautiful voice. His shoulders tight and his body trembled. The man next to him stuttered as we stared at each other. The other man noticed the brown haired guy’s trembling and pushed the bottle in front of him to one side. Just as his friend had cleared the way the brown curly hair fell, and the cute face collided with the table. My hand went instinctively to his neck to check for a pulse. A dazed sigh escaped those pale lips and I wrapped my arms around his body and carried him to the first aid office. His friends followed behind, clutching his belongings.
Over an hour later I was sat outside the college building with the guy resting against my shoulder. It turned out he had just fainted before. But he’d got sent home anyway. We were just waiting for his dad to arrive to collect him. The police had no problems with my actions. They were glad the situation hadn’t gotten out of control and there were no casualties. Well not any serious casualties. I felt a soft nuzzle against my shoulder. It was very cold for an early summer’s day. The frost still hadn’t lifted, and from what I could tell the guy with the brown hair was cold. He hadn’t said a word since he regained consciousness, so I’m guessing he’s shy, or in shock. But he couldn’t be too shy as he’d sat so close to me. I could feel a gentle, patch of warmth from his cheek through my jacket. I’ve never been this close to another guy before. Strange for a gay guy, right? Actually, come to think of it I don’t think I’ve willingly been this close to a girl either. (Fan girls can be very obsessive and will try anything, for you to like them. Trust me they are.) So I guess I’m virtually like a saint. Yeah, never thought I’d say something like that. My body might be pure but my mind is far, far from pure. But something about being this close to this guy feels good. Good like snuggling up with hot chocolate near an open fire, whilst it’s snowing, and its winter, and, and ... oh it was just good ok?
His breath was cold on my exposed skin, and his body shook with cold. Without hesitance, I slid my hand towards the buckle fastening of my jacket. My cheeks burned as they overflowed with warmth. Why was I becoming embarrassed over something such as this? Peeling off my jacket, I felt the sting of nature’s harsh wintery breath, as a cold tongue lashed across my exposed arms. Turning towards the guy, I began wrapping him up in my heavy duty coat, then buckled up the fur collar. Suddenly his cheeks glowed as red as radioactive strawberries. Just as he opened his mouth, I let out the worse possible excuse ever. “I have a high endurance...,” spluttering as I thought my words through and pointed out that I was referring to the cold. The guy softly giggled and looked down at his feet. “So why did you save me? I’ve never even seen you before. We’ve never met. And I’m positive I don’t know you.”
“It’s my first day here, I was heading towards the canteen. I overheard what was going on from behind the doors. If there’s one thing I can’t stand in this world is that people can feel hostility from others, just because of who they are. That and I hate guns. I think using them is like cheating. Anyone can pick up one and use them to cause pain too another. It’s not fair.”
He looked up at me as I gazed thoughtfully towards the sky. “You seem like one of those cool fighters from a manga.” He laughed, as I looked towards him. So I laughed too. “You know what? I do don’t I?”
“So what’s your name?”
“The names Masahiko Yoichi, just call me Masahiko. And yours?”
“Mines Samuel. I’m in the second year, studying IT. From what I saw back there, I’m guessing you do martial arts.”
“Yeah, I was trained when I was very little. I’m studying art. So, I’m guessing you like manga?”
“I love it! You? Well, by your clothes I’m guessing yes. You look like an Otaku, mixed with a prince.”
“A prince?” I couldn’t help feeling both flattered and yet my stomach tightened. I realised I’d been here before, so I hid my emotions.
“Yeah, a prince. Well if you don’t mind me saying you have one of those majestic auras about you. Like one of those manga princes who only fight for the needy, and banish evil forces. Is that weird?”
“No I like it. But not, in a big headed way. It’s just nice to be seen as a hero for once.”
“Wow, I thought I’d creeped you out or something. So what music do you like?”
“Visual Kei,” I reached into my pocket and pulled put my MP3 player, placed one earpiece in my ear and held out the other. Gently he pulled back his curly hair and placed it in his ear. I couldn’t help noticing how feminine he looked. He looked like one of those cross-dressing, uke types in manga. I focused and put on one of my favourite songs from Dir En Grey, and I noticed his face light up. “This sounds like something from my favourite game! Oh that reminds me, I must update my Xbox.”
I jumped and turned, “you have an Xbox? Cool. So urm...” I stared hard at my feet. “What’s your user-tag?”
“Golden Kitten ninety two. All one word, with capitals G and K, and ninety two are in numerical form. What’s yours so I know it’s you?”
“I have two, Masahiko Yoichi for my English console and Ouji Samurai for my Japanese console. With a capital M, Y, O and S, with an underscore between Masahiko and Yoichi. But no underscore in my other one.”
He lent in closer showing me his phone with the two user-tags written on a blank message. I made sure he’d spelt it correctly and gave him a smile. I took out my own phone and brought up the user-tag search page from my desktop. “Wow you have a nice phone. Smart-phone I’m guessing. I’ve never seen that one before is it only available in Japan or something?”
“It’s a tester, made buy my friend’s, dad’s company. Not available yet, the international market said it was too powerful to be released yet. It would totally revolutionise the phone industry and destroy that I-pear company that makes all of those crap phones.” I could see the look in his eyes. They sparkled with amazement and joy. I could have just hugged him at that point, he looked so cute.
All too soon, his dad arrived in a colossal looking car, it towered over all of the other cars, as if to say ‘I’d eat you then spit you out, you puny metal boxes’. Ok maybe that was just my imagination. I was sad to see Samuel go. He’d handed back my jacket, just as I was starting to feel how cold it was out here, without him beside me. He’d thanked me for saving him. Then to my surprise, he hugged me, and before I could blink, he’d jumped into the giant car and was waving goodbye. I couldn’t wait to go home. For the first time, I felt like I had made a friend here.