Hornet's Nest

---

Violet

The first 'Keane' I met was Wesley.

He was in my social science class. I watched him for a few days, like I watched everybody.

The way he simply sat next to someone, introduced himself, and struck up quick and smooth conversation, was fascinating. Whatever the topic was, he kept it flowing. If talking was an art form, he'd nailed it.

It was in every expression he pulled, every simple mannerism - he was friendly. He had a friendly face, attractive in a generic way. Squarish and proportionate. Light brown hair with a few tufts that were more blond. Hazel eyes. The type of features an agent would happily snap up into a modelling contract.

Perhaps it was marred by his build needing to 'fill out'. He was easily over six foot, with long, lanky limbs, uncomfortably close to clumsy.

Each class, he made his way around the room, sitting next to different people, meeting and talking to everyone. It was only a matter of time before he reached me. I patiently waited for it, curious to see what he'd talk about, how he'd be.

When the day finally came, it was the first time he'd come to class late. The door opened with a slow creak and he poked his head inside. He gave an apologetic look towards the tutor, like he was worried about interrupting, and getting in trouble, and whatever else. She simply gestured for him to come in without stopping her flow of words.

I guess we all had to get used to how differently we were being treated. We were 'adults' now.

He bee-lined across the room, took the chair beside me, and sat down. But said nothing, as the class was already underway. His gaze stayed on the screen at the front, trying to scribble down some notes on what he had missed.

When the opportunity came, he turned to me with a grin, and held out a hand. "Wes."

I shook it. "Vi."

"What's that short for?"

"Violet."

"Oh, right, so you don't have one of those weird gang kid names."

I blinked. "Do I look like a 'gang kid' to you?"

"Yep."

I stared. He held my gaze. "Gang kids don't get into uni," I said.

"The smart ones do."

"Right." I hadn't expected this. His eyes, the certain tone in his voice. "So which one?"

"No, I'm not in."

"Right. Neither am I."

His expression was blank, but he looked like he didn't believe me. "Used to be?"

"Not anymore." It was a much easier answer than actually trying to explain.

"Okay. Cool."

There was a moment of silence. I was waiting for him to say something more, but he didn't. Was he waiting for me, or actually reading the paper his eyes moved across?

"You'd have run a mile if I was?" I asked.

"Nah, just be extra careful about pissing you off. And know who to go to, if I wanted some weed."

I snorted. "Well, I can still get you that."

His face cracked with a grin. "Give us your number, then."

"Yeah. Smooth."

"What?"

"Real smooth. I'm serious. Almost worked."

"No, no. I'm not asking you out. I seriously want some weed."

I couldn't even read him anymore, whether he was being sarcastic or genuine. I was seeing that things might not be as different at university as I was expecting them to be.

"I have a sorta, um, boyfriend right now," he said, as if trying to assure me he was telling the truth.

"Oh, wow."

"I'm not gay," he hurriedly replied. "This boyfriend, it's sorta complicated."

"Right."

"Yeah, he's mad at me. He's gone to uni all the way up north and I'm down here."

"Okay."

"I'd rather go to uni with my brother than him, you see."

I just didn't even... this guy. He was weird but funny, awkward and easy to talk to at the same time.

"So why are you studying this?" he asked.

"... It's fascinating," I replied.

"Yeah, it is. People are fascinating." He glanced around the view of the room, then looked back to me. "You're the opposite to me, aren't you? Pefer to sit at the back and watch, while I want to meet everyone up close."

"I suppose. People like you make my way easier."

"Yeah, I see. Riding off all my hard work, eavesdropping on all my conversations."

"Exactly."

He grinned again, shook his head. "You studying anything else?"

"Physics."

"What?" He scowled at me like I was mad. "Why the fuck?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, I just scored freakishly high in my exams with it. So it was easy to take it."

"Are you serious? Nobody can fucking do physics. Oh my God, you must be like my brother, everything just sticks in his head. He always aces exams. You must be in his class, who's your tutor? When do you go?"

I told him my timetable, he laughed in delight. "Holy shit, you are in Dave's class."

"Dave?"

"Yeah, David?"

I frowned at him, falling silent in disbelief. There was a 'Keane' in my physics class, but I hadn't made the connection. I had pictured Wesley's brother to be some twin or something, if they were the same age, and starting uni together.

"The black-haired guy?" I asked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, he's my brother."

They looked nothing alike. David was a bit shorter, but much broader than Wesley's frame. He had big shoulders, a more compact and sturdy build. Not to mention their features. Everything about David was sharper, darker. Their hair, their eyes, hell, even their skin tones. Completely different.

"Erm," I started. "How did that happen?"

"I'm adopted."

"Oh. Right."

He looked cheerful about it. We completely slacked on our work as we sat there talking, even turning a few heads from others in the class. He was very open and willing to talk about his private life. He almost gave me a biography.

"I kept having to attend these visits with her," he was saying, "but they stopped forcing me once I turned eighteen. I just don't want to see her anymore. She hasn't changed. She might be my birth mum but she's not my real mum."

"And you have no idea who your father is?"

"Nope." He slouched back in his chair. "Don't really care either. I have a family now, and they're awesome. I'm so lucky. It was, like, unreal when I was younger." He gave me a cheeky grin. "They're rich."

"How did you manage that?"

His grin broadened. "Made best friends with the rich kid at school."

"You clever bastard."

Then something just twigged in my brain. But, I figured everyone who was going to university must be rich, so I needed to know...

"Just how rich are they?"

He chuckled. "Oh, you know. We live in a

huge

mansion in the countryside, with this massive pool. Me and Dave both got super expensive sports cars for our birthdays." The sarcasm was thick. His tone went a little more serious and he gave me a genuine look. "We have a nice house, and there's always food on the table."

"... Sounds nice."

"Yeah."

Class was drawing to its end. Wes checked the time on his phone. "So, can I have your number? Like, seriously. I need some for tonight."

"I don't know if he'll have any that short notice."

"But you'll do what you can, right?"

I sighed, pulling my phone from my pocket. "Sure. Whatever."

*

I had a physics class later that day. So far, in a very short time, I was disliking it. I didn't know how I was going to stay and manage the work without dropping out. It seemed a stupid, terrible thing to take.

Wesley had suddenly made it seem more interesting.

I arrived a little early, like normal. I was the first to walk in. The tutor looked up from her desk and laptop, giving me a quick smile.

"Hello, Vi."

Before I headed for my usual spot, I changed my mind - I turned left, for a desk on the other side of the room. I took the seat David had been sitting in, every class so far.

Slowly, the other students arrived. I watched each one coming in through the door, waiting for it to be him. Was he going to be late like Wesley? Some came in pairs, in trios, chatting away. So many faces, so many clothes, and none of them were what I wanted. Hurry up.

He finally arrived. I saw his black head of hair as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, and had a little tingle of anticipation.

He looked so average, dressed in a zip-up hoodie, dark wash jeans. Rich kid, huh? Some students were making much more effort to look like they had money. His head was down, flicking through his phone's screen, wires of earphones going from the collar of his shirt to the sides of his head.

He approached, looked up, and stopped. Pulled the earphones out and blinked at me.

"Have I stolen your spot?" I asked.

He gave his head a shake, but said nothing and sat down at the far end, two seats away, and dropped his bag to the floor. He fiddled with his phone again, slid it into his pocket. Crossed his arms on the desk and stared at the front.

The class started. People took out their laptops, some preferred working with paper. He was in my vision as I watched the screen and tutor. Not obvious that I was studying him. Perfect.

I can't say I'd paid him much attention before. He was quiet, sitting the other side of the room, and didn't do anything to make me notice him. Even now he was the same, despite the fact I had stolen his comfortable spot, leaning my elbow on the desk and back against the wall. He was fully focused on the front, listening to the tutor.

I was only paying half attention.

The way he was turned, I didn't get much of a view. But every time he looked down at his laptop to take notes, I got the profile of his face.

His hair was a jet-black shade, not just a dark brown. Dyed or natural? Judging by his eyebrows and facial hair, natural. His chin and jawline were lightly bearded, that slight scruff to it of fading adolescence. It still had to fill out on his cheeks a little.

He had a chiseled jaw. Perfectly smooth cartilage of his nose. Everything about his features was just sharp. Angular. Defined. Dark lashes that brought out his eyes.

He tossed me a glance, but I was writing.

I was betting he looked good under those clothes. He had nice hands. There was a certain weight behind his movements, the subconscious confidence of someone who knows they have physical power.

His head turned again. We made eye contact for the shortest moment, then he looked to the front, glanced back at me, and quickly looked away. So uncomfortable. Pretty cute.

The work took my attention for a while. When he looked around again, I met his gaze. This time he held my stare, as if waiting for me to look away first. His brow furrowed as our eye contact stretched into a longer silence. Maybe I looked like I was about to say something. Honestly, I wanted to, but nothing came out. I was too distracted by an involuntary increase in my heartrate.

I think I was smirking. There was a flash of irritation to his expression. He stayed focused on the class from there on. Slightly disappointing. As fun as it was making him fidget, it wasn't smart to overdo it.

My phone buzzed with a message five minutes to the end. An unknown number, and all it said was, "Vi?"

"Wes?" I replied.

"Yh. Can you get it?"

"I'm still in class."

"Oh ok."

I studied the side of David's face, looked down at my phone, and started typing again. "Your bro doesn't talk much, does he?"

"Haha, no. Tell him Wes says hi."

I considered it, pushing the phone back into my pocket. Before I had an opportunity, there was a vibration from David's jeans instead. He leant back from the desk to pull it out. His eyes darted over the screen and he grinned. Somehow, I knew it was Wesley on the other end.

David typed something back. It vibrated again, he read the message and shook his head. A subtle and small movement he only did to himself. Intense curiosity burnt through me. What were they saying to each other? Was Wesley, by any chance, telling him to say hi to me?

He put his phone back in his pocket, then mine vibrated again. Oh my God. Really? David gave me a suspicious glance this time. What were you doing, Wes?

"Don't tell Dave about it," was all the text said.

Right. Okay.

Class was over, people were starting to pack away. I decided that my notes were too few, and sitting next to a cute guy I was intentionally trying to distract might not be good for my grades, or his. He could have his seat back next time.

An hour of class and I hadn't heard him say a word. He was a tough nut, wasn't he?

My elbow brushed his back as I passed him to leave. His head snapped to me, and in that brief moment of eye contact, I said, "Wes says hi."

He frowned. It was dark, almost a scowl. He looked, honestly, confused as fuck. But still said nothing.

For fuck sake. I filed between the other students, out the door. I was sure the tutor had picked on him some day earlier, and tried to remember what his voice sounded like.

I was going to hear that voice.

---

David

I sat myself in the lounge with our other flatmates, waiting for Wesley to get back from wherever he'd fucked off to.

We had three sofas squished into a small space in front of the TV, which was on, but the volume was low, as people were chatting. I was looking at something on my phone, not in the mood to join in. I wanted to be sitting in my room, but had decided it would cause problems if I kept doing that. I had to be sociable. I had to mix.

There had already been an argument, over the dishes. 'Someone' had broken the dishwasher. I saw the blame as pointless - technology just gives out and breaks sometimes. The landlord was being difficult and slow about getting it fixed, so I'd suggested calling in someone to repair it ourselves and splitting the cost.

One of the girls went mental - "I didn't break it! I'm not fucking paying!"

"Nobody 'broke' it," I replied.

"None of my stuff was even in it the night it broke! I had nothing to do with it! Why should I have to pay towards it?"

I was just... dumbfounded. I was asking for a tenner.

She left some passive-aggressive note taped to the cupboard above the sink the day after that. It was aimed at another of the guys, not me, at least. He was super pissed, ripped it down, and thudded down the hallway to her door, banging on it, yelling and swearing at seven in the morning.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Why were people like this?

That girl and guy were starting to get snarky at each other again now. I looked up from my phone and gave them a dull stare, ready to intervene. Another girl - the blonde short one, Melissa - shook her head at me. She had her face squished against her hand as she leant her elbow against the sofa's armrest.

The front door opened and slammed shut to break it up - Wesley finally came in. Every head in the room looked around to him. He grinned.

"I got a dealer."

Another guy's fists went up in the air in triumph. "Yes!"

Wes vaulted himself over a sofa, feet narrowly missing someone's head, and threw himself down beside me.

"You better not bring that in here," I said.

"Don't worry," Wes replied.

"No, seriously. If they come in here for a check, and they catch even a whiff of weed, we're all in shit."

"David," the other guy sighed.

I stared at him. "If they find even one sealy in here-"

"He's right," the dishwasher girl interrupted, wrinkling her nose in a snobby disgust. "I fucking swear, if I come in here and there's even the slightest smell, I'm ratting you out."

"Wow, you're a bunch of uptight bitches."

"Just keep it out," I said.

"You're like my fuckin' dad or something?"

I bristled, sat forward, kept staring at him. "You know who has to deal with the fucking landlord each time you're gonna be a prick?"

"Hey," someone said. "Come on."

"No weed indoors," Wesley said, holding his hands out in a gesture for everyone to shut up. "Okay? We get it out and we smoke it out."

"Fine."

I shook my head and got to my feet. I was hoping this was just a 'settling in' thing, that people would start getting along and the tensions would disappear. It wasn't a pleasant living space so far.

I shut my room's door, but didn't lock it, as much as I had the urge. It was still pretty bare, at least compared to my room at home, but right now, that was fine. A relatively empty room didn't clutter my mind. I sat at my desk and lifted my laptop's screen, running a hand through my hair.

I didn't know why I was in such a bad mood. I brought up some notes I needed to organise and read through them.

... There was this girl in my physics class.

She'd caught my eye on the first day. There was something about her that stood out from the rest. Her gaze shifted around like she was a little bewildered, confused, daunted by the surroundings. She sat alone the other side of the room. Every class, she sat in the same place, appearing bored, restless.

She'd turn around, swivel in her seat, looking over her shoulder at the clock on the back wall. That was usually when I got the best glimpses of her face.

I suppose for the first couple weeks, I had been casually watching her without realising what I was doing. My mind was so engaged by the work I didn't notice my own wandering gaze.

Today, when I walked in, she had been sitting in my spot.

Shit. My mind had completely blanked. She was something distant, the opposite side of the room, now she was right there. She almost had these unfriendly vibes. I didn't know what to do.

I could feel her eyes on me during the class. Maybe she had noticed me looking at her, and was trying to return the favour. I felt like an idiot. That whole hour, I kept wanting to say something, but couldn't suck up the courage. Each time I looked around, I got butterflies. It was ridiculous, and embarrassing. There was no way I'd get a coherent sentence out.

She wasn't exactly tall, not exactly short. Her legs looked long, even if she wouldn't come above my chin. She always wore tight fitting clothes. Low-cut skinny jeans to boast her hips. One time a short skirt with leggings. Tank tops and plain t-shirts. A button-up blouse.

Even if she looked like she'd rip me apart for trying to say something to her, she had a beautiful face. Striking blue eyes that weren't a cold shade. More dark, deep. The type of eyes that guarded the person inside. Her skin had an olive tone, decorated by darker brown freckles on her cheeks and shoulders. Auburn hair framed her features, longer strands just about touching her collar bones.

I had tried to hold her gaze, wondering if she'd say something. Nope.

She wore one of those tight white tank tops. It was slightly transparent. Colours of her bra were showing through. Heat started in my ears when I realised I'd even been looking at her chest, and I desperately tried to stop it spreading to my cheeks. Physics isn't sexy. Focus.

Her arms were toned. Her whole build seemed lithe, athletic. She moved with this grace, like she glided weightlessly across the floor. What did she do? Was she a dancer? In some sports team? A swimmer?

Fucking hell. I walked out of that class feeling a flustered and sweaty mess. Because a girl had been sitting six feet away from me.

I'd had an hour to say something. And been as useless as normal.

And now I was in a bad mood.

Great.

Raised voices of flatmates were coming through my door. Oh God. Please. Fucking stop.

Footsteps approached in the hallway outside. Wesley poked his head into my room, making everything louder the moment he exposed me to the rest of the flat.

"Hey, Dave."

I grunted.

"We gotta do something about this dishwasher."

"Yeah, no shit."

He chuckled and disappeared again. I collapsed on my stomach on my bed, pulled a pillow over my head, and could still hear nearly everything going on. Snarky, needling voices. There was a moment of silence, then the front door slammed shut. Someone had stormed out.

I didn't understand why doing some dishes in the sink was such a big deal.

I pulled my phone out and typed a message to my dad. "What did you do with nightmare roommates?"