"So... You're going to do the story?" Peter asked me after I relayed to him what had happened.
Ah, the inevitable question. "I don't know," I answered truthfully. I played with the banana split Peter bought me, his way of making up for not getting me drunk. Sure, when I met William I managed to choke out a few words. (just barely). But now it was time for compulsive eating. I would've done it in Eton but... THEY HAVE NO ICE-CREAM HOUSE! Can you believe that? I still can't. No wonder they're all fit. "The guy didn't give me an ending!"
Peter nodded as if he understood. I don't think he did.
"According to Leo Tolstoy. There are only two real endings a story can have: Love and death."
"So kill Hunter," he smiled. "I know you want to. And Julia and William could be together."
"Hunter won't let me kill him. The jerk!" I told Peter. "And Julia... she gives me the impression that she and William are really close friends but there's no lovey-dovey mushiness going on between them."
"But they kissed," Peter said, making sure he got the story straight.
I concentrated on the vanilla, strawberry and chocolate flavors blending on my tongue. Who knew why they kissed. Spur of the moment? Ah, the mystery...
"Kill William?"  he suggested. "Hunter and Julia return to their before state?"
I sighed. "Been there; done that. And I received word from His Royal Highness that I'm forbidden to do so. And Hunter and Julia seem bent on pining for each other." Why? I don't know. Ask them. Fine, Hunter wake up frustrated in the morning without R-O-L-A-I-D-S spells relief for want of Julia. Julia, take cold showers at night thinking of Hunter... I felt my migraine returning.
Peter shrugged as if he had just ran out of ideas.
"I could kill Julia..." I said slowly around a mouthful of ice-cream. "Then Hunter and William could --" Did I dare?
Peter raised an eyebrow.
"William and Hunter get together in this crazy gay relationship???" I asked aloud. Boy, I hope the waiter didn't hear that one. Ew gross! I thought after I completed the sentence. But still... a part of me romanced the idea.
Hey!
It could happen (William? ew gross!). I collected the paper placemats in the hamburger place and took out my pen. I wrote (Hunter, this hurts me more than it hurts you.... um, maybe):

Hunter and William's mouths found each other's and clung like the ends of vacuum cleaners. They embraced each other tightly, their bodies slick with sweat, neither wanting to let go. Both dreading the moment that they would have to let go. They did their best not to think about it. The moonlight passed through the Eton window and shone on their two young, energetic bodies, illuminating their skin in a glow, like works of art, Michelangelo's.

Peter read what I wrote upside down. And said, "You wouldn't." There was a taste of terror in his voice.
I met his gaze challengingly. Oh, wouldn't I? The boy didn't give me anything better to work with. He didn't give me an ending! (major HINT HINT, Hunter).
I continued to write (I felt like gagging. I really did).

They were without wardrobe. No fig leaves... you know? But paradise was full of sin that night... get the drift?
Oh, how, they wondered, how could they have denied themselves for so long?  The admiring once-overs in the shower room. In a strict "can look but no touch" policy. But now they could touch. Oh hellafied yeah! They could touch.
The smoldering come hither looks across the breakfast tables as they took their morning teas, sweet with sugar and lemon. The impersonal "hellos" and "how are you's?" before they went to class that were all just guising the need of hearing the other's voice. How could they have been so so blind to what was obvious?
But none of that mattered now! Now, in the small dorm room, the announcement of their physical as well as their internal attraction was made. And the pleasure that the other boy reciprocated his own emotion was a bliss too much to bear. Yes. They knew that this night would inevitably change their friendship. But then... some changes were for the better.
"I love you Wills," Hunter expressed hoarsely.
"Hunter..." William breathed his sweetheart's name. (Right now the author's brain is going puke! Oh, double puke!)
Hunter felt like crying (sensitive male). His heart was overflowing with -- with with-- (I'll place a word in here later) --. Damn! Why the hiding? Why the secrecy? When he wanted to announce to the world how much he loved William and that he loved William in this special way. Oh, what could be wrong with a love such as this? Not when it was this potent...
A knock sounded at the door.
Both male teenagers used up their profound vocabulary.
Trefor walked in...

"Why put him there?" Peter spoke up.
Oh, true. Trefor never gave me a sore stomach. I changed it.

The dean walked in.

Peter cocked his head at an angle but said nothing.

Hunter rolled under William's bed just in time. This was what he had feared. But one puts up with such inconveniences for the sake of love. He bumped into something. Errrr.... Someone. "Hey, Tref, what are you doing here, man?"

"What is up with you and this guy Tref?" Peter spoke again.
"I don't know," I told Peter, continuing to write.

"Shut up!" Trefor hissed as he kicked Hunter in the shins. (He expects him to be quiet after doing that?) "You're going to get us both caught..."
"B-but," Hunter was clearly crestfallen. "I thought I was Wills' one and only."
"You were wrong," Trefor cruelly informed (Ow! that hurt.).
"Give me room," Hunter shoved him to the wall. "You're taking up all the space."
"I was here first!" Trefor reminded, trying to shove Hunter out.
Hunter glared at him in the darkness. Jealousy.. it eats at you.
Meanwhile, the dean was looking at the prince. "Where's that noise coming from?"
William smiled brightly. "Must be rats, sir." He jumped on the bed (the blanket still covering his essentials sufficiently) in a signal to the two under there.
"Ouch!" Hunter yelled as his head hit the board.

Peter looked at me wide-eyed. "Are you going to make them get caught?"
"I don't know yet," I muttered.

They got caught. Hunter's fault! Hey I like the sound of that: Hunter's fault!
"What were the two of you doing under there?" William asked knowingly.

I sighed (doing this is exhausting) as I wrote.

The dean joined them. A real blast of a party. They all slept in the next morning.

I looked at the four placemats I had just written on and shuddered. EW!
"You're not really going to put that in the story, are you?" Peter asked.
"I might," I singsonged. Hunter doesn't give me an ending? Hmph!
Needless to say, I had weird dreams that night.