Weeks went by and I began to spend more time outside with Isaiah. Whenever we were not in class we would take turns coming up with activities to partake in together. We would visit the school library, only to be disappointed by the total lack of girls love novels and be forced to find some other reading material to entertain ourselves. Sappy romance novels where women yearned for men just did not have the same appeal to either of us. Yet we resigned ourselves to read together whatever book we could find that was at least slightly less heteronormative. A silly thing for a couple of straight boys to worry about, yet we could not help our taste in literature.

 And then there were days we would go to the art room, taking turns painting and drawing whatever the other would request. I was more of an abstract painter, in that I had no talent for painting whatsoever, and Isaiah would tease me for the sad quality of the paintings I attempted to produce. His drawings, however, never ceased to impress me. No matter what I asked him for he could always draw it precisely as I had envisioned it. Sometimes it seemed as though we shared a brain and he could see the image in my head. At first my requests were simple, cats and bunnies and other cute things, then I began to ask him to draw characters from our favorite novels, or at least his interpretations based on their descriptions. Then I would ask for him to draw the girls from his sketchbook, a request he seemed hesitant to comply with, “you want me to draw what?”

“The cute couple you drew in your sketchbook,” I pleaded with my eyes, or eye.

“Why would you want me to draw them though?”

“I want to see them in color, their hair, their eyes, their outfits. I have never seen you draw them outside of the pencil sketches.”

“Sorry, but that’s just too embarrassing,” he refused, for reasons he would not divulge to me. Glumly, I respected his decision, and moved on. Every once in a while, I would catch him sketching the girls in his private sketchpad at night, though I had trouble seeing the precise details of the drawings from my perch atop my bunk bed. Still I was certain he was drawing them again.

Though most days we spent together, Isaiah still upheld our promise from that first day, giving  me my space on the days we had agreed. I would wear my dress in secret as he did something on his own elsewhere. It was a nice balance. I was never left feeling lonely, but also still allowed to express myself in the privacy of our room. School life had been turning out to be far better than I expected. Well, perhaps not school life, as the classes themselves were mind numbingly dull, but life outside class was wonderful. It felt as though we spent every moment we could together, even our lunch periods. It was during one such lunch hour that a silly question popped into my head.

“Hey Isaiah, have you ever wondered what it would be like to…” more than halfway through the question I began to rethink whether it was a good idea to ask such a silly question at all, and instead went silent.

“Huh, what were you sayin?” he asked, munching on an apple, eating core and all.

“No, it is nothing,” I lied, then thought of another way to phrase the question. “What do you think of the cute boy characters who dress up like girls?”

He rolled his eyes, “I mean they’re cute, but like I just wish they’d go all the way and make em girls, you know?”

“Oh,” I wished to not react to his answer, but I wore my disappointment on my face.

“Huh, what’s wrong Bonbon?

I could not tell him my secret, I needed a way out of that conversation, and so I thought to lie some more, “I was simply going to ask if you ever wondered what it would be like to write a story together?”

His face lit up, his cheeks stretched in a wide smile that shone with childlike excitement, “yes, def, that would be really cool!” 

“Oh, so you think that would be a good idea?” 

He nodded his head in quick succession, wearing his enthusiasm on his face like a hyper little puppy dog, “hell yea, I mean why not right?”

I giggled and patted his head, “I am glad my suggestion could make you so happy, silly boy.”

He frowned at me, “don’t call me that please.”

“Oh I am sorry, I did not mean to emasculate you,”

Shaking his head he grabbed my hand, “no no, it’s not that it’s just,” he didn’t get to finish before a snide voice interrupted him.

“Snogging behind a tree, fags?” I did not have to turn to see who it was the voice belonged to. 

“Shut the hell up and leave us alone,” Isaiah snapped, “unless you want another ass kickin!”

The stodgy noble boy came from around the tree, sneering as he looked down at us, “You didn’t kick my ass, I fell over, that’s all that happened.”

“And I’ll make ya fall over again like a fat lil rolly polly,” though I too disliked the boy, I did not approve of Isaiah’s retorts about his size.

“Watch your tone with me, peasant! Do you not know who I am?” he snarled at Isaiah as he stood over him

Standing to face him, Isaiah retorted, “a stuck up royal pain in the ass.”

“I am Geb Randcaster, heir to the,”

“I don’t care what crappy flavor of royal you are,” Isaiah interrupted him, “just get the hell outta here already.”

The rejected royal grabbed Isaiah by the collar pulling him close before pushing him back down, "if you won't respect me by my stature then you'll learn to respect me by my strength!"

Isaiah tumbled then quickly returned to his feet, bracing himself for a fight, "Pft, you call that strength,  honestly you're not worth my time," he regained his composure then dropped his defensive stance.

"You're afraid of me, admit it!" He raised his fists ready to throw a punch.

"Just stop," I stood between them, "he said he was not going to fight you, so just leave us alone!" My plea for peace was met with a backhand to my face.

"Shut up and get out of my way, flee," the words were barely out of Geb's mouth before a fist came flying towards his own face.

"Don't you dare hit Bonbon!" Isaiah's punch landed square on the aggressor's jaw, followed by three more consecutive strikes in quick succession. His speed in fencing seemed to be matched by his speed in brawling, I had barely seen him move before he had sent Geb tumbling back from his attacks. 

"Filfy pefeant how dare fue," the boy clasped his hand over his bleeding nose and ran off cursing us as he retreated. 

With a deep breath, Isaiah calmed down and smiled at me, before frowning with concern, "oh no, he bruised you," he touched my cheek tenderly, "I shoulda hit him harder."

"No, no, honestly I wish you had not fought at all," I shook my head vigorously, "but, at the same time," my cheeks grew hot, not from the bruise, but embarrassment, "I appreciate you fighting for me."

He cracked a cute cocky grin, "I ain't gonna let anyone ever hurt ya, I'll always have your back."

"Thank you, Isaiah, you are truly a great friend."

A few more days would pass before we were called to the dean's office. The old former Shepherd loomed at the far side of his office, a scowl carved into his leathery face, his nostrils flaring with each breath he took. “I have half a mind to expel you here and now, Mr. Snowdrop, perhaps even have you tried for what you’ve done.”

“Tried? Sendin me to court cause I got in a fight with another student?” Isaiah was rightfully upset, such a punishment was far too harsh.

“You have assaulted the son of the duke of Eindalestine, you should be happy they aren’t calling for your dismemberment,” I would call that hyperbole, but I had heard the stories of the duke’s tyranny and genuinely would not put such a thing past him.

“And what about Geb? He started the fight,” Isaiah crossed his arms and scowled right back at the dean.

“It is expected of the students here to demonstrate divine qualities, qualities such as humility and forgiveness,” he sat at his desk and leered at us with all the judgment of a biased jury, “should one provoke you then you should simply turn the other cheek.”

“He struck me first, Isaiah was just protecting me!” I could not continue to allow all the blame to be placed upon my friend, especially when he had only resorted to violence on my behalf. 

Dean Marcus sighed, “and it is in light of this why I have chosen to not expel the boy,” he cleared his throat, “we are a neutral force between the nations that our students represent, but we are also not unaware who rules the lands this prestigious academy finds itself occupying. It would be best for me to not upset the crown prince of this most holy nation.” 

Isaiah snorted, “So what, you just called me here to call me a bad boy and send me on my way?”

He shook his head, “to avoid an international incident, disciplinary action is required, and to teach you a lesson I believe as much would be just,” I felt as though he had a biased against Isaiah, for whatever reason, and that he delighted in the prospect of punishing him, “you will spend two weeks in the detention center, and you may only bring your most necessary of personal items.”

“Two weeks?” my friend stamped his foot down as he stood up, “you sayin I gotta stay in some kinda school prison for two weeks?”

“Consider this a favor for his majesty, I am being lenient all things considered,” with a huff he waved his hand dismissing us, “now go gather your belongings, a Shepherd will be along to escort you shortly.”

“Could you not reduce the sentence even a little?” I pleaded, “perhaps allow me to share the punishment, a week for the both of us?”

Dean Marcus shook his head and grumbled, “no, no, no, that wouldn’t do. Return to your room and just be happy your little friend gets to stay a student here.”

Without any further objections, we left the office dejected yet slightly relieved and headed back to our room.

“I am sorry you are being punished for standing up for me,” I apologized to him several times on our walk back.

“Hey, stop sayin sorry, I’d do it again if I had to. Don’t go blamin yourself,” his smile was bright, but it couldn’t hide the dread in his eye for the days to come. “Two weeks is gonna be a long time, aint it?”

We had been in school for months now, but the prospect of being held in some kind of prison for students made any length of time sound like an eternity. To be honest, the idea of not seeing my friend for so long felt almost as much of a punishment for me as it was for him. “Do not worry, it will pass by fast, I am sure of it,” that was perhaps a lie, but I wanted to try and cheer him up a little. “I know, maybe you can brainstorm ideas for our novel while you are bored!”

“Huh, brainstorm…” he was confused for a moment, before recalling our prior conversation, “oh, oh! Yea, the novel we said we’d write!” he smiled wide at me, “aight, I’ll come up with somethin good for you, okay?”

“I look forward to hearing your ideas when you get back, Isaiah,” we had arrived at our door and just stood there. While we simply stared at our door, a strange sensation came over me. Or perhaps it was a desire? A desire that came in the form of a simple thought, what if I kissed him before he left? My face shone crimson red and I am fairly certain Isaiah could feel the heat of my cheeks from where he stood. 

“Are you okay Bonbon?” he sounded as though he was genuinely concerned, “you look like you're lil feverish.”

“I am fine, let us just hurry inside, alright?” Hiding my face would have done no good, I was radiating with embarrassment so strong that our neighbors could likely see the rays from my face from inside their rooms. Why would you think that? Why? I fumbled with the door knob, scratching the lock as I continued to miss the keyhole till Isaiah grabbed my shaking hand, and guided it into place.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I am simply furious that they are doing this to you!” I stomped into our room, “they are taking you away from me and I am quite perturbed!”

This time it was his turn to be red, “take me away from you? Damn Bonbon, didn’t know you felt that strongly.”

“I, uhh, I mean that,” as quickly as he could riposte my attacks while fencing, he had returned the embarrassment to me, “you are my best friend and I will miss spending time with you,” managing to regain my composure, I felt a slight sense of relief from my flustered state. 

With a deep sigh he patted me on the shoulder, “you’re my best friend too, I’ll miss ya,” he smiled a sad soft smile, “keep outta trouble while I’m away, okay?” Silently I nodded as our eyes locked longingly, “good girl,” he said, sending the both of us into a frenzy, “I’m sorry I meant boy, I don’t know why I said that! Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

“No,no, it’s okay, a tip of the slung, I mean a slip of the tongue!” It seems our last moments before his punishment began were spent not unlike our first moments together, the two of us being dumb panicky messes. Our ‘fun’ however was cut short as the Shepherd knocked at our door.

“Aight, guess I’ll see ya in two weeks,” he grabbed his backpack from the closet and stepped towards the door, “stay fresh, cutie” with that last little tease he left, guided away by the Shepherd.

“Take care,” I said in a soft sullen whisper.

A moment later his words hit me, “Wait, did he call me cutie!”