It went against every living fibre of his being to sit still in class, to not leap on teachers, as welcome as the plague, when phrases like 'pro bono' cropped up in lectures, but that's what he<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>to do.<br/><br/>For every time he was aching to groan or bang his head senseless on the desk he had to bite his lip, push his nails need into the soft flesh of his palms and remind himself in a military fashion of exactly why he was here. No one said going straight would be easy, but no one said it would be this bloody solid! It was like dragging a mule to water. Trying to interest him in lessons was like drawing blood from a stone.<br/><br/>It was half the content itself. Government set crap, stuff exam boards agreed with that didn't reflect life how it ever vaguely was.  Example; they taught history like it was fact, all geared towards answering the five questions on the exam paper at the end of the year, seemingly oblivious of how "history was written by the winners," and dullardly ignorant of any aspect of the past that wandered beyond the boarders of the essay paper. And yet half the tutors themselves had the nerve to talk down their noses to you!<br/><br/>He could sense the pain in those classes plain as day.<br/><br/>It was halfway through one of these lessons Nino's mind wandered back to his new house mate curiously. He drummed his fingers across the cool grey surface of his desk, black eyes distant, gaze focused on the blue sky beyond the walls of the building. On the way to the window he could see all the usual activity, the kid next to him fidgeting in his seat, another with his headphones in scribbling down the lesson objective, the potted plant wilting on the sill. It might have been an expensive school, but it was in no way, shape or form an unusual school. A classroom was still a classroom.<br/><br/>Anyway, staring out of the window he find the path of his thoughts meandering back to the dorms.<br/><br/>Cain.<br/><br/>He was... well, there was something off about him. The little punk kid with the cute, little punk attitude. Nino paused, reconsidering the phrasing 'cute' for half a moment, a little disturbed before shrugging it off. He'd had stranger thoughts concerning his mates, usually fueled by booze, weed or other such narcotics, but those days were over. Straight and narrow Nino, remember the straight and narrow.<br/><br/>Hmm, Cain was an oddity. True to his word, the kid was quiet. They'd been here almost a week and for what short time they'd shared a breathing space he'd barely piped up a squeak, let alone a full sentence. He half suspected the little prick of pinching his cigarettes, about four had gone missing from his bedside table packet since he'd moved in, but then again Brandy (the self pronounced Best Friend) knew where his room was and the odd puff now and then... he'd skin that little fucker alive all in due time.<br/><br/>Nino chewed the end of his pen thoughtfully, eyes reflecting the outside blue.<br/><br/>He guessed he'd been a little harsh on him, put him on edge or shit like that, the kid was knew after all!<br/><br/>"LORENZA!"<br/><br/>A loud crack and a yell brought the boys train of thought to an almighty crash. He leaped out of his skin, "What?" he snapped suddenly back in the room, maths teacher staring him down miserably, ruler still in hand, "I don't suppose you want to work out the equation?"<br/><br/>Nino scowled, teeth gritted. He'd been trying real hard, this was hardly fair, the one moment his concentration drifted they singled him out like a fucking convict, "Which one...?" he mumbled, feeling more than a touch humiliated.<br/><br/>"Three B, you can use the blackboard,"<br/><br/><br/>*******            ********                 **********<br/><br/>'6:36 PM' said the dull red glow on the far end of his bedside table.<br/><br/>Nino winced and fell onto his bed with a sigh he never even realised he was holding. Over the noise of outside he could hear the shower going. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, massaging irritably.<br/><br/>"Be quick, kid," he hollered loud enough for Cain to hear, a small grin edging its way onto his expression, "I'm stinking like a P.I.G!"<br/><br/>He rolled over and dragged his bag closer by the handle, rummaging through it's contents, finding himself a textbook, tearing out a page and a pen. He was going to make contact, he thought decidedly, testing the pen, giving it a few shakes until the ink reluctantly spattered out and started working again. Fuck it! He was going to be decent.<br/><br/>After ten minutes of speedy scrawling he propped up said sheet of paper on Cain's pillow, nice and obvious waiting for the kid.<br/><br/>On it sat two things;<br/><br/>A hasty scribble of:<br/><br/>"Sup Kiddo. I'm Nino, was held back a year for the giggles, my families Italian, I'm a size ten shoe-size, in my spare time I draw and drink like a fish and it's fucking swell to meet you. Hows<span style="text-decoration: underline">that</span>for an introduction!?"<br/><br/>And underneath that lay a quick, thick biro sketch of Cain, heavily shaded and doodled with spiders and a what looked like a couple of ants... for when realism got boring.<br/><br/>That seemed to do the trick. Not that Nino wanted to be there to see it, he'd already decided the minute kiddo opened the door he'd barge past him and grab his own shower, hanging about... well, the note was fucking gay enough as it was!