Can You Keep A Secret? (open)

[Romeo Buckland]

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Romeo couldn’t believe his luck. It’s only been two weeks since he got out of his ‘community service’ duty – two-month prison sentence, as he’d like to call it, given that it practically robbed him of his social life, or at least most of it anyway – and already he’s back scrubbing the gymnasiums tiles, catching floating debris from the pool and making sure every gym equipment has been accounted for. All because of that incident a few nights ago when a guard found him and a couple of friends sneaking back into campus trashed as fuck. It probably didn’t help that the Irish boy threw up on the poor chap when he was escorting the group to the security office (to have a record of the incident and all that).

The Irish boy was anything but repentant though. He argues that it’s Halloween; at what state do they expect to find sane teenagers that night? Sure, he admits, they’re kind of loud, but that’s mostly because his friend keeps on making him tell about that intense threesome he had in the frat party they crashed in. What kind of a friend is he if he doesn’t update his buds about what happened behind closed doors right?

It was so good, he says, that now, just the sight of Big Bird is enough to give him a boner.

In any case, he doesn’t have time to dwell on the memory as he still has two basketball courts to clean. Heaven knows Ms. Reed will eat him up (in a perfectly unpleasant way) if he doesn’t finish everything in forty-five minutes. Staying longer than he should be is also out of the question.

Two hours of cleaning did leave the Irish boy just a tad bit exhausted, and finding a few coins in his pocket, decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a five-minute break. Dropping two dollars’ worth of quarters in the vending machine, he pressed the right buttons and patiently waited for the machine to give him a bottle of Vitamin Water – Restore. Ten seconds turned to thirty, then to a full minute, and yet nothing’s happened. He heard a few gears clicking here and there, but nothing ever dropped. “What?!” he growled, bumping the machine slightly with his fist. Nothing happened so the boy repeated the gesture, albeit with a bit more force. He did it a few more times after that, all to no avail.

Incredibly irritated, the boy let out a loud, guttural roar, unconsciously turning his power on as he kicked the vending machine. In the end he did get his coveted bottle. The machine though, err, let’s just say that if it wasn’t for the now-exposed bottles inside it, you wouldn’t think it was a vending machine. He was also in a state of extreme nudity (side effect of his powers), but clearly he has better things in mind than to think about his decency.

“Shit.”

[Michael Arceneaux]

Michael had spent the majority of the day rehearsing his choir solo piece. He had made quite a lot of progress on it and could now get through more than half of it by memory alone. Sure, there were a few kinks he needed to work out, like the part that seems to randomly jump an octave. Eventually, his throat was starting to feel sore, so he decided to call it quits before he did some kind of damage and ended up permanently sounding like a dying frog.

Because his throat was hurting, he decided to stop by the gymnasium on his way back to his dorm to grab a bottle of water form the one of the vending machines, and as soon as he opened the door to the building, he hard a loud bang that made him jump from shock. "What the fuck..." he said after taking a deep breath in order to make it seem like he didn't almost piss his pants. He summoned up what little courage he had left and walked further into the gym. What he saw next would definitely be classified as one of the oddest things he has ever seen... ever...

Standing before him was a very metallic... very scary looking statue of a man and a heavily broken vending machine. Instead of the something normal like "oh my god a giant metal man" or "oh my god I am witnessing a crime," Michael's first thought was "hey, he kind of looks like that guy from the second and third X-Men movies". But after that initial rationalization passed, he noticed the very exposed condition of the person. The more Michael looked on, the stranger things seemed to be.

"I didn't see anything," Michael said as he turned his head and covered his eyes. He then realized how stupid his statement was. If he wanted to escape so he wouldn't get a beating from the scary metal man, he could have just ran and gone undetected, but by speaking, his presence would definitely be known. "Uh... could you uh... grab me a bottle of water out of there please..."

Yeah... smooth move Michael... ask the criminal who just broke into the vending machine to steal you a drink!

One thing was for certain, there was never a dull moment in Hammel!

[Romeo Buckland]

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As it were, it would take quite a lot to induce panic to Romeo. A manifestation of his immense arrogance self-confidence is his apathy to almost anything – from starting coursework three hours after its due to sneaking out if campus in broad daylight (he’s done it several times; he insists that its actually easier than sneaking out at night). This blatant disregard for what other people might think – combined with his immense belief in his personal charisma and his inherently crafty mind – allows him to work well under pressure, keeping his mind clear and letting him see solutions people frequently refer to as “out-of-the-box”.

Which meant that the fact that the boy’s turned pale (or silver, if you want to be more precise) in panic meant that what had happened is bad. Real bad.

He was still in shock though when Michael came, the other boy’s voice knocking him out of his terror-induced trance. And while the gravity manipulator’s voice bore not a hint of aggression (it was condescending at its worst, and that’s if you took it way too far), it sent the ironclad teen rushing towards Michael, grabbing him by his collar and pinning him to the nearby wall (probably with a little bit too much force than what was necessary even) within seconds. “What did you say?” he grunted, fists curling up tightly around the boy’s shirt, “No one can ever know about this, you hear me? No one.”

[Michael Arceneaux]

Instead of getting a bottle of water like he asked, Michael got roughed up and slammed to a wall by the metal man. Michael opened his eyes for a moment as he gasped in pain (there was definitely going to be a bruise on him in the morning). He took in the sight of the man and noticed that it wasn't so much of a man after all. He could tell by the face that it was a teenage boy around his age. He also noticed that the boy had hair similar to that of the gorgeous Harry Styles from One Direction.

It was definitely a bad time to let his dedicated directioner fan boy thoughts take root.

Michael closed his eyes again for two reasons. First, he didn't want his power activating on its own. It tended to do that in normal situations, but in situations where he was stressed, it was way more likely. He had to focus to prevent that from happening. Secondly, the metal assailant was actually very attractive... and very naked... and very, very close... and Michael was a teenage boy with more testosterone flowing through him than there are stars in the night sky. In addition to potentially being beaten to death and the possible uncontrolled activation of his power, he had a new issue forming below the belt. He had to keep his eyes closed so he wouldn't have any unwanted visual stimuli adding to the problem.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, dude!" he swore aloud. "It's not like they would believe me anyway. 'Hey, Michael, what happened to the vending machine?' Oh, a statue of Harry Styles went all Hulk Smash! on it! I don't even think an insane asylum patient would believe that!"

Michael let out a nervous laugh and hoped a metal fist wasn't about to cave his skull in. "So, uh, about that bottle of water... my throat is pretty sore... so..." he babbled while his eyes still stayed shut. "I'm Michael, by the way..."

Leave it to Michael to tell the person who was about to beat the crap out of him his name.

[Romeo Buckland]

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Romeo’s rage began to go down considerably when he saw how the other boy reacted to his threat(s). Now that he’s up close and personal with Michael, things became a whole lot clearer. It wasn’t aggression or even condescension that he heard earlier; it was more like shock and fear trying to pass itself off as humour. And if that wasn’t clear enough, Michael’s terror was clearly seen in his eyes (or their lack thereof, considering how he closed his eyes within seconds of being pinned across the room). The fact that he didn’t really struggle against being pinned to the wall was a big giveaway too.

Then he just mentioned something about a ‘Harry Styles’ and Romeo just lost it.

“A Harry what?” he asked, confusion clearly written on his face. He got the ‘Hulk-smash’ part of course, but who the heck was that? That couldn’t be the wizard with a stupid scar on the side of his forehead couldn’t it? And if it was that, what could this other boy mean? Was he speaking in code or something?

He did realize that holding the boy up against the wall wouldn’t do any real good, so he finally released the boy, also turning off his powers in the process. (He could feel the strain of keeping the metallic casing up slowly creeping in on him). “Not a beep remember, not a beep,” he said one final time, putting his index finger on Michael’s nose and inching in real close. “And seriously? How long have you been in Hammel bro? Half the things that happen here on a regular basis, not even a crazy person high on LSD would be able to dream off.”

With the business with Michael done, Romeo walked back to the vending machine, his mind preoccupied more with thinking about how he’ll get around this incident than the fact that he’s basically flashing everyone who happens to walk past the school’s gym. “Fuck. What am I going to do with you?” asked the boy to basically no one, scratching his chin as he tried to think of answers.

“Here,” he said as he bent over and grabbed two bottles of water, throwing one at the boy. “I seriously have no idea on what to do with this. Any thoughts Mike?”

[Michael Arceneaux]

"Harry Styles," Michael emphasized, "you know, the guy from One Direction with the amazing hair, like yours... oh, and now that I heard you talk a little more, you sound like you have Niall's accent. Are you Irish?" He typically knew when to shut his mouth, but while his brain was fried with with a combination lust and fear, he had a hard time zipping his lips.

Michael let out a sigh of relief when he was released. He opened his eyes a moment to see that the boy's metal body has turned into a normal, fleshy one. Although it wasn't nearly as kinky, the normal body was just as attractive. Michael had to shut his eyes again and imagine nasty things like saggy old ladies in bikinis and stuff along those lines to keep the problem in his pants from escalating further.

"I guess my stay at Hammel has been a lot less eventful than yours. This is easily the weirdest situation I've ever been in." It was the truth. Watching a Harry Styles statue with a Niall Horan accent go all Hulk Smash! on a vending machine won first place in the weirdness category.

Since his eyes were closed, Michael didn't see the water bottle flying his way. It ended up hitting his chest before dropping to the ground. He bent down and picked it up quickly before popping off the cap and taking down a few gulps of the cold water to soothe his sore throat.

"Uh... I guess if no one else catches you, they won't have any proof that you did it, right? You're not the only person in the school capable of doing something like this," Michael assumed. "Maybe you should run to the lockerroom, put on a gym unfirom, and then head back to your dorm to change. You could always think of an alibi later." That was the best advice Michael had to offer at the time.

"Umm... if you don't mind me asking... what's your name? Unfortunately, I'm not very well versed on Hammel's resident criminal troublemakers... well, except for my brother... but he's not really a criminal... well... I don't know... he does damage property a lot..."

[Romeo Buckland]

When Michael went on to explain what – or rather, who – Harry Styles was, well, let’s just say that the brunette could’ve said his piece in Japanese or Greek or Martian even and it would’ve still gotten the same effect: Romeo was still confused as ever. The Irish teen had no idea what One Direction was, and adding a ‘Niall’ just made the whole thing even more puzzling. “One what? Niall? What the fuck is a Niall?” It didn’t sound like an insult, but it sounded far from a compliment either, so Romeo wasn’t too sure. “Are you sure you’re not drunk right now?” Michael sounded a lot like one of his buddies when he’s got some booze in his system.

He did catch the snippet about him having great hair and it made him smile. Grin actually, considering how cheeky the shape his mouth became after hearing it.

“Yeah. Stayed in Ireland ‘till I was 14.” Then the whole meta manifestation happened and he found himself shipped to Kocher. But Autumn was in Hammel back then so he had himself across the ocean. He could’ve opted to go back to Kocher now that his cousin’s graduated, but the he’s gotten rather fond of Americans and their odd ways. Besides, he only has a year (or so) left in school anyway; getting all the paperwork done would take quite a while and by the time he’s settled in Kocher, it’s probably graduation already.

Romeo couldn’t help but chuckle at Michael’s reply about his uninteresting life. Was this guy for real? “You have to be shitting me. Do you live under a rock or something?” he asked, probably a little sarcastically, as he looked around the vending machine, flinching as he saw the dents his little temper tantrum did to the poor chunk of metal. “This is nothing compared to Victoria Bylicki’s diva outburst a few days back. Surely you’ve heard of that right?” Giving the ability to warp reality to a stuck-up brat who’d wish to destroy a country should she wake up with a zit on her forehead was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” Well it crossed his mind, but without any witnesses to strengthen his alibi, well, he doubts his story would hold. With his numerous infractions, he’s fairly sure his word holds no power to the higher-ups anymore. He was just about to say something more when he saw Michael grabbing, or at least trying to grab, the bottle of water from the ground. “You! You can help me with my alibi!”

And yes, Romeo has yet to tell Michael his name. He insists that it’s not that relevant yet anyway.

[Michael Arceneaux]

Michael laughed. "I'm not drunk," he assured the boy, "Niall's the Irish guy in One Direction. His accent is pretty similar to yours in my opinion." He really couldn't believe how this guy hasn't heard of One Direction. Everyone knows about One Direction! They're on television and the radio all the time. You can't watch or listen without at least a mention of the boy band. "Did your prison cell not get cable?" Michael didn't know anything about the guy's past, but if he was busting into vending machines, he assumed he had more than one run-in with the law.

"I may be in the drama club, but I stay away from that kind of drama whenever I can," he snapped back about being asked if he lived under a rock. He wasn't going to take that kind of flak from someone who he thought was a criminal. "You're lucky you're handsome," Michael explained, "otherwise I'd turn around, run for my life, and report your ass to the first teacher I find." He was obviously joking. Mr. Metal Harry Styles was pretty darn lucky that Michael wasn't a stuck-up tattletale.

"I guess I can help you with your alibi," Michael said while occasionally opening his eyes to keep at the guy's still very exposed body. "What do you want me to do, tell the staff that we were too busy having a hot make-out session to break the vending machine? That'll explain your lack of clothing."

[Romeo Buckland]

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Romeo rolled his eyes when Michael said something about this Niall-person being Irish and them having similar accents. “Oh however could that have happened,” he snorted, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Did this boy miss his spiel about him being Irish (or at least living in Ireland for nearly 14 years) or was he just a dunce? He gave Michael another once-over, eyes looking from head to toe, and decided that yeah, the latter’s the more probable reason. That derpy face of his just screamed moron no matter what he tried to do with it. (Sorry Michael, Romeo’s being a prissy diva).

He initially chose to ignore the prison comment – he wanted to appear like he’s too good to retort to mundane insults like that; in reality, he was dumbfounded by such a comment because really, how else could you make “No I didn’t; now shut up” witty and insult-worthy? – but then Michael mentioned his involvement with the drama club. Guess he really is a fuckwit. Romeo had to stop himself from snickering as he was just handed quite the ammo to cut the boy’s sass and regain the upper hand in this particular exchange. (Or at least he thinks it would be).

Oh, and it explained the whole One Direction thing. God why didn’t he figure it out earlier?

“You’re a drama fag? I should’ve known,” said Romeo in the most insulting tone he could muster, crossing his arms in front of his chest and shaking his head disapprovingly condescendingly. “And no, don’t get your jealous hopes up, I haven’t been to jail. Unlike you, I don’t dream of being able to drop the soap in the midst of muscly, burly men on a daily basis.” That didn’t mean he’s opposed to some man-on-man action in a shower room, should it come to that though. “Oh, I know,” added Romeo with a wink when Michael complimented him.

A smirk did appear on his face when Michael said he’d help him. It vanished momentarily when the brunette laid his plans out since it was a little unorthodox, but it just might work. “I don’t think they’ve installed security cameras around here anyway, right?” He made a quick sweep of the court. Yup, found none. “I think I’d rather be punished for being distracted at work than destroying a vending machine. Good.” He walked closer to Michael and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. “Who knew a stupid fag like you could think of great ideas! Now to find someone who’d agree to say they’ve been having an intense make out session with me. Not that it’d be hard mind you.”

He quickly turned to his side with a mischievous smirk, saying, “You’d work right? I mean, finally you can tell the school you’ve been making out with me even though you really didn’t. It’ll do well to boost your image. All those prissy faggots would want you know, since they’d think I wanted you.”

[Michael Arceneaux]

Michael shot the boy a fake death glare in retaliation for his slightly offensive yet hilarious insults. "You better watch your mouth or I will call your probation officer!" he threatened jokingly. "And I'll tell him your not wearing your ankle monitor also!" This was just too much fun. Prison jokes were easy to counter. "I bet you wait for others to drop the soap so you act on your repressed homosexual feelings." Checkmate!

After taking a look around, Michael answered the boy's question about the security cameras. "I don't see any, but I thought you would have all this worked out. You're the hardened criminal. I'm just a drama fag, remember?" A slight smirk appeared on his face. He felt like he was treading dangerous waters, and he enjoyed it. The stranger gave off a bad boy vibe that Michael really liked, and when he suggested telling others that they were making out as an alibi, Michael got an idea.

"Here's the deal," Michael explained, "you won't just tell people you made out with me, you really will make out with me." With every word he said, he felt the danger increasing. He was potentially pushing the boy closer and closer to the edge of snapping, especially by taking charge and making ultimatums. Michael couldn't help himself though. His hormones were getting the best of him. The situation was just so... hot. "And if you refuse, I tell the first person I come across that a deranged, naked guy with metal skin broke into a vending machine and threatened to beat me up."

Michael took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. The chances of him actually getting his ass kicked just went though the roof, but he was getting too good of a rush out of it to care. Something about the danger of getting beat up and getting caught was really turning him on.

People at Hammel were beginning to teach him a lot about himself. Fer taught him that he was much more sexual that he anticipated, and this guy was teaching him that he might be a bit of an adrenaline junkie as well. Who would've guessed? After years of trying to keep himself and his troublesome brother in line at home under a strict, military-man stepfather, Hammel was allowing Michael to live a little and cross boundaries he never knew existed.

[Romeo Buckland]

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And it seemed that the boy’s determined to stretch the prisoner-ex-con banter for as long as he could. Unfortunately for Michael, Romeo’s not having any of it. He simply let out a sigh of irration, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, as he thought the whole thing was rather childish and utter bullcrap. “Ugh, how old are we, ten?” he said as he gave Michael the most unimpressed face he could possibly muster. “And you wonder why no one wants to associate with you drama fags.” It might be rude to generalize, but this was Romeo after all. That, and Michael’s not the first one he’s encountered who said something about being affiliated about the club and acted rather oddly. “Which is a shame, because there are a few in your club that are rather talented. Olive’s flexibility, for example. Or Noah’s mouth. Damn.” They were good – great even – but they had odd quirks that Romeo just can’t get over with, and thus they’re relegated among the lower rungs of his booty call speed dial.

Initially, the Irish boy was taken aback by the boy’s proposition. To call it incredulous was an understatement. But then he did get where Michael’s coming from, and really if he was in his position he’d demand the same too. I’m a mighty amazing specimen of a man after all and it’d be a waste to just let me go to waste. But he’s not going to make it easy, no. Or at least, he won’t let it happen in Michael’s terms.

“Sure. But then, if we’re the only ones who’d insist that we’re making out in some locker room, we’d be in trouble still. So,” Romeo grabbed Michael’s arm and started heading outside the gym, smirk on his face and not really caring that everything he has was still dangling for everyone to see. He brought Michael out to the bushes on the side of the gym nearest to the courtyard and promptly pinned him to the wall, with Romeo’s back clear for everyone in the courtyard to see. The people in the courtyard seemed to be pretty preoccupied with whatever they’re doing, but if their eyes do wander around, they might be able to see a quick silhouette of the two.

“This sitting well with you, drama fag?” asked Romeo with a smirk, hands placed perfectly on Michael’s shoulders, “You know you can still back out if this is a little too risqué for you.”

[Michael Arceneaux]

The guy definitely had a way with words. Harsh, cruel, and... extremely hot. "I'm just as talented as they are," Michael insisted. He knew what the boy was insinuating, but instead of playing along, he decided to act oblivious. "I plan on being a famous movie star one day. It's only a matter of time before you see me on the big screen." After graduating from Hammel, Michael planned on moving back to LA and working his way into the movie business. He knew it was a hard career path to become successful in, but he would try at it anyway. You only live once, right?

Michael let the boy lead him outside and into the bushes. Quickly he realized how much trouble he cold be in, but when the boy placed his hands on Michael's shoulders, he felt his rationality starting to leave him. One head was starting to do more thinking than the other, and it wasn't the one on his neck. "I'm not backing out," Michael decided before quickly licking his lips. He let his hands wander toward the boy and rest on his bare waist. "You seem pretty confident. Why don't you back that confidence up, big boy?"

There was nothing to lose for Michael... well, except for his reputation, but he really didn't have much of one anyway. In his stay at Hammel, he has literally never been in any trouble, so he figured that if he did get caught making out with a naked guy in the bushes, his punishment wouldn't be too extreme. The staff should be a little forgiving since it would be his first offense, right? Besides, there was always the chance that they won't get caught at all, but the thrill of potentially being caught was only adding to the experience. Michael was really enjoying himself, and he was more than willing to risk getting in trouble or ruining his reputation.

"Let's make your alibi..."

Michael slowly leaned in and closed his eyes...

[Romeo Buckland]

“Empty words Mike, empty words,” said Romeo offhandedly. He didn’t mean it as an insult or as a taunt though; the Irish boy insists that it’s just telling Michael some facts. But, should the gravity manipulator wish to prove him wrong and do something so that he’d land within his phone’s ‘speed dials’, well Romeo’s not stopping him. Not one bit. “What, with a face like that?” he cupped Michael’s chin and flicked it from left to right, “No chance. Your body’s not really all that amazing and your acting skills are nil.” He took a step back and crossed his arms, looking at Michael with a haughty smirk and a raised eyebrow. “And I doubt you could sing, much less dance, great. N’aww. You won’t make it.” Don’t take the insults personally though Michael; heaven knows Romeo’s just saying these things to piss you off. “Unless of course you’d be auditioning to be some monster in a B-rated horror/slasher flick. Then you’d get the job. Heck the moment you walk in, all those stuffy creepy old men would be like ‘You! You’re hired! You’d make the perfect Creature from the Green Tar Pit!’.”

Romeo was hoping he could scare Michael off by dragging him outside. He didn’t seem to be the type to be into being seen by the world. While he’s had his fair share of fairly adventurous trysts, only a handful were really into the whole exhibitionist shtick. Heck, even he had his own reservations about the whole thing (just enough for him not to do it in a daily basis anyway). So really, the Irish boy was rather surprised when Michael simply ran his hands over his bare body (eliciting a small and subtle response from him actually) and even challenged him.

“Someone’s mighty eager. Haven’t been laid for a while, have we?” he said with a smirk, happily closing the gap between them, “Or maybe, haven’t been laid at all.” His face hovered around Michael’s face for a few seconds, tracing the boy’s jawline with his nose. “Last chance?”

The boy didn’t seem to be budging though, so with one last smug chuckle, Romeo dove in, devouring Michael’s lips and capturing them in a very rough, almost animalistic kiss.

[Michael Arceneaux]

Michael didn't speak, and he wasn't going to speak until metal guy shut his mouth and turned their theoretical alibi into a real alibi. Luckily, he didn't have to wait very long. Their lips connected and magic was made (not literally, but close enough). And after they finally parted minutes later, Michael was left feeling very satisfied, but he definitely wouldn't mind having more.

He then looked into the guy's eyes and decided to finally to add his input on everything he said before the amazing make out session began. "Just so you know, I can sing, dance, and act. I'm a triple threat. Ask anyone." Maybe he was exaggerating on the dancing... he was only 'okay' at that. "And my body is good enough. See?" Michael lifted up his shirt a little to expose his abs. Also, it hasn't been too terribly long since I've been 'laid', but I'm well overdue for another go."

"So are you going to tell me your name or will I have to refer to you as the well-endowed, metal One Direction knockoff?"

[Romeo Buckland]

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Romeo didn’t really expect to get anything out of the kiss. It was a simple enough alibi idea, and since the drama geek wouldn’t settle with just spreading a rumour, he gave into it. The Irish boy’s mindset was that of coldness and professionalism, without even the tiniest bit hint of lust or desire.

So when that groan of displeasure (because Romeo never whines, ever) left him after Michael pushed him away ever so slightly, he surprised even himself.

He did not expect to enjoy the kiss that much. Michael didn’t come to him as a great kisser after all. And to be honest, the kiss wasn’t that great. It was rather wet, rather sloppy. But it’s also weird. Different. Was it Michael’s lips? Or the way he tilted his head just right to give Romeo proper access to him? Romeo didn’t know and Romeo frankly couldn’t care less.

He just wants more.

“Don’t you ever shut up?” he growled, rolling his eyes as Michael talked, “Know what, just don’t talk. You’re getting uglier again.” He was just so overcome with desire right now that he barely heard what Michael said. When the boy lifted his shirt up though, Romeo instinctively placed both his hands on the boy’s chest, tracing weird patterns with his fingers before pinching both of the boy’s nipples at the same time. “That what you wanted me to do?”

“Know what, don’t answer that. Just shut up and kiss me,” he commanded as he attacked Michael’s lips again, hands briefly tracing the boy’s abs before landing on Michael’s ass, urging his legs to open up slightly so he can straddle Romeo.

“Do you want to continue this here? Or shall we do it inside? Either way, I don’t mind,” he whispered.