The next day, Simon hid in his room for as long as he could stand to. Around noon, he finally forced himself out. Damian was lounging on the couch, dressed in his usual pair of jogging shorts and nothing else. He glanced up when Simon entered and smiled at him, setting his book down beside him. “This In Cold Blood book is pretty good. But I kinda get the feeling they’re all fags.”

Simon frowned at him, unsure if he should be relieved or angry. He was pretty sure they should talk about last night, but it was so much more tempting to just pretend it never happened. His discomfort won out. “You shouldn’t say fags. It‘s rude.”

Damian shrugged, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “It’s just a word.”

“Words have power.” Simon slowly gathered himself, finding comfort in a familiar reprimand. He hadn’t had this particularly conversation with Damian but with other students… “They can hurt people badly and can heal as well. ‘Love’ is just a word, but…”

Damian stared at him as Simon gulped and quickly tried to continue on. He couldn’t force the words out and all attempts died when Damian rose and stalked toward him, the movement just as sexual and aggressive as the night before. “But what?”

“Damian…” Simon took a step back. He realized what he had done and forced himself to stand still. “Stop it.” His voice came out steady. “Damian, you are a really sweet kid, but-”

“You’re not interested.” Damian cocked his head to the side. “It’s kind of funny. You keep saying that, but certain parts of your body,” he looked pointedly at Simon’s crotch, “say otherwise quite often.”

Simon mentally cursed his inability to take someone to bed if it was just for sex. Jake was his friend and even that was rare. If he did, he wouldn’t be having so many problems around the pretty boy.

“Damian, you’re attractive. I admit it. You’re gorgeous and sexy, but that isn’t enough.”

The redhead blinked at him. “Why not?”

Simon’s jaw tightened. “That’s why. You’ve gotten better in the last few months, but you still think lust and attraction are all that matter.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do! If you didn’t you wouldn’t have said that!”

Damian glared. “Well what should I have said? That you kissed me last night? That’s a pretty fucking obvious sign that you’re attracted! And I’m terribly sorry I can’t think of anything to say other than those two things! You haven’t given any kind of clue about how you feel about me other than that! For all I know you could fucking hate me!”

Simon ran a hand through his hair, taking several deep breaths and mentally counting to ten before speaking. “I don’t hate you. You’re a… very interesting person to be around, but you are ten years my junior, nearly half my age. We have nothing in common-”

“So?” Red demanded. “I’m not asking to be your boyfriend. Hell, I’m not even asking to be your friend.” He snorted. “I’m just asking you to-”

“Stop,” Simon snapped. “We’ve been over this. I have morals, I’m not bedding you. I’m terribly sorry I kissed you last night. I was not planning on it and regret it. It was a mistake and will not be happening again. Sorry for misleading you,” he tacked on grudgingly.

Red gaped at him, his eyes widening. “Well fuck you!” he spat, turning on his heel and storming out of the room. The sound of the front door slamming shut reached Simon’s ears.

Simon sighed and shakily took a seat. That could have gone better. That could have gone a lot better.

Hours later, long past nightfall, the door swung open. Simon jumped to his feet, tense muscles slackening with sudden relief.

“Where were you?” he demanded. “It’s nearly one. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

Damian stumbled through the door, not looking at Simon. He staggered by. At the first step, his foot caught and he went tumbling.

Simon gaped, before jumping to his feet and hurrying over to the disarranged pile of limbs.

Damian picked his face up from the floor and looked at Simon before giggling. “You’re handsome,” he said, poking a finger at Simon’s leg. His words were slurred.

Simon’s eyes widened. “Damian, are you-”

Damian didn’t let him finish. Instead, he reached an arm up and began to yank Simon down. The surprise allowed the slender boy to get his teacher to his knees but Simon managed to brace himself.

“I’m drunk,” Damian informed him with over-exaggerated gravity. “I don’t think I take re- reje- rejection well.” He giggled. “Do you know you’re the first person to reject me? Well, at least the first person to say no to that.”

Simon stayed silent, unsure of what to say. It seemed to be an ever increasing state of being around Damian.

“I guess that’s probah- probably why I like you so much.” He giggled. “You know, Bob used to call me a- a masa… a masoh… uh….”

“Masochist,” Simon prompted gently.

“That’s it!” Damian snapped and then giggled again. “I just learned to do that a few weeks ago,” he whispered conspiratorially. He snapped again. “I couldn’t. And then Johnny taught me.” He giggled. “Johnny’s so sweet.”

“You like him.”

“Yeah, he’s a sweetheart!”

“You love him.”

Damian frowned and shook his head. “Nuh-uh,” he replied, shaking his head petulantly. “I love you. Which is sad. I don’t want to even like you.”

Simon struggled with it but curiosity got the better of him. “Why?”

“’Cause you’re so damn nice!” exploded Damian. “You have morals.” He said the word like Simon would say herpes. “Anyone else would at least use me for awhile before rejecting me.”

“Damian, that’s not better! That’s worse!”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Not.”

“Too.” Simon realized what he was doing and mentally smacked himself. “That’s not a good thing,” he said firmly. “And the fact that you think it is a good thing is a bad thing. Relationships should be based off love and trust, not sex.”

Damian stared up at him, glazed eyes oddly serious. “And you keep telling me to stop hittin‘ on you.” He rose to his knees suddenly, barely swaying, and grabbed Simon’s shoulder, leaning close. “If you want me to not like you, you can’t be so fuckin’ nice.” His eyes were smoldering, his voice too intense for the slur in his words and his slight swaying. “Bob was righ’ when he called me a- a mas… that thing. I like people who are- are untouchable, I guess. An’ wrong. I don’t like it when people- when people are mean to me. I don’ mind it, but I don’t like it neither. So you gotta be a bastard to me.”

“Red, don’t tell-”

“Don’t call me that!”

Simon took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said, when what he really wanted to do was shake the drunk kid in front of him. “Damian, don’t tell me to be mean to you. It would just make both of us miserable. Now, I’m going to help you upstairs to bed and you’re going to sleep this off. Now, you’re going to have a hangover tomorrow, and just this once, I’m having you stay home. We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

Damian glared at him for a moment before spinning on his heel and stalking upstairs, gripping the railing with white knuckled hands. “Jackass,” he spat.

Simon ignored the insult and watched him carefully, sighing in relief when he made it to the top landing. When his bedroom door slammed shut, Simon ran a hand through his hair and followed Damian up. Tomorrow was going to be a very early morning.