Alex Moran (21) studied Literature at the Brunel University, which meant he didn’t spend as much time in London itself as he did on campus. Most of the London students he knew were students at Brunel. Now, however, he had been selected for an internship at a tattoo shop in the centre of London, something he hadn’t even dared dream of. Today was his third day and he sat on a stool behind the reception desk to welcome customers. He was grateful for the job, but most of his colleagues still considered him a newbie and inadequate, so he hadn’t been allowed to do a single tattoo yet. He sighed and looked up in anticipation when he heard the jingle that indicated a new customer had come in. Someone around his own age, from the looks of it. But definitely not a Brunel student. His eyes narrowed as he tried to determine exactly what it was, then, about this boy that seemed so familiar to him.

Hamish had just sexted for the first time. He had taken a picture of himself, naked and hard, and had sent it to his boyfriend, accompanied by a statement of how much he ached for the other. Things weren’t going particularly well between them and Hamish had wanted to spice things up in this way. Not that his body was that good, but he figured his boyfriend was his boyfriend for a reason. Even if Hamish sometimes got home with a black eye; that just showed him he had to put in a bit more effort. So he nervously looked at his phone to see if he’d gotten a response yet, when he saw the words on his screen. [ Sent to Alex Moran ] . Fuck. That was NOT the right name. Alex was a bloke he went to Uni with, and that was unluckily placed just above his boyfriend, Andrew, in his contacts. And now he’d seen him in the most embarrassing way possible. God damn. This marked the end of his reputation on campus.

Hamish ran to his room and closed the door behind him with a bang. He even forgot to lock it, but just let himself fall down on his bed, his face buried in his pillow and his arms covering his head. He kicked his duvet over his body with his feet and so busied himself while he desperately tried to forget about the great humiliation. Because he had been humiliated and no one would dare to doubt that. In the common room on campus, everyone had been gathered. It was a Saturday afternoon and at this time of year no one felt like doing any work. So everyone in their hall had been present and had been having fun. Hamish too. He’d engaged in a mock-wrestling match with one of the guys from across the hall. Everything had been fun and games too, until Hamish was pressed against the floor, an arm pressed to his chest and a face hovering above him. Because yes, he had lost, but he had also gotten a hard-on. It had naturally only taken a split second for the first person to notice and within half a minute everyone had been laughing and pointed. So thats when Hamish had fled and that was the story of how Hamish had outed to the entire fucking campus.

Alex stared at the place where Hamish just had stood. The crowd surrounding him still was cheering, but Hamish was gone and Alex could feel the word crashing around his ears. He had fucked up. He had massively, immensely, entirely fucked up and he’d never be able to make up for this again. But why did Hamish have to do it this way and why on Earth had he done it now?

Alex hadn’t been blind to the flirtateous manners Hamish had adopted as he got more and more drunk. And he hadn’t been oblivious to his own responses to Hamish’s behaviour, either. So the thing was not that he didn’t like Hamish well enough to kiss him, but it was that the timing of Hamish’s attempt had been horribly bad. Alex had not yet outed to more than three of his mates (other than Hamish) and the entire hall had been surrounding them. So Alex had pushed Hamish away in blind panic, something he now regretted with passion, and everyone else had started laughing. And Alex hadn’t meant to; he really hadn’t. So after a minute of standing there, surrounded by laughter and pats on the back by people that thought he’d led Hamish on, he followed after his best friend. When he stood before Hamish’s dorm door, he quietly knocked. “Mish?”

Alex Moran left the concert hall in Paris where he’d just performed at for a cigarette. He had given a show of an hour and a half and though he loved playing, the lights shining brightly on his forehead and the energy his mates and he put into the performance had left him exhausted and really just in need of a proper rest. However, when he’d kicked the door shut behind him and had turned around, he saw a large part of his fanbase standing there. He had barely had time to take a single drag from his cigarette when a marker was pushed into his hand and he was asked to sign photos, concert tickets and chests. He even managed to keep a charming grin on his face as he signed away, though looked back to the entrance every so often to see if one of his band members was coming out to relieve some of the pressure. 

( Reply as whatever you want; an, roadie, passer-by, security, journalist, grandma, anything! )

Alex Moran-Moriarty (20) blinked a few times when his friend spoke up. He’d been playing Truth or Dare with a bunch of his mates, but hardly was paying attention. His gaze went from the guy he’d seen sitting at the end of the counter, to the frustratingly giggly group of girls in the corner of the pub, to somewhere mid-air where really nothing could be seen. It was only when it was his turn to get either a Truth or a Dare that he’d started up and had blurted out ‘Dare’, just so he didn’t have to answer anything truthfully. He was far too scared of his friends figuring out that he didn’t just fancy girls, now that he himself had figured it out just two weeks ago. The Dare itself wasn’t much of an improvement to that question, however, because the tallest guy of his group had gotten a sneaky grin on his face and had pointed over to the guy at the end of the counter. “Kiss him,” his simple assignment had been, and now Alex sat in his seat, blinking in disbelief and looking at his other friends to help him out. None of them seemed to have the least of a problem with the task for Alex, though, so Alex shakingly got up. It was the same guy he’d been stealing glances from all evening, but had never seen return even one. He swallowed hard and walked over, his usual confidence seeming to have disappeared in an instant. The approaching of the guy went faster than he’d expected and before he knew it, he was standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he pushed out of his throat, before he laid his hand down in the guy’s neck and tenderly, though cautiously, brushed his lips by the other’s. He was expecting to get tossed back any second now, so he would enjoy this split second he at least assumed he had.

Victoria Watson-Holmes sighed and sat down by the side of the road. She’d been standing there, waving her hand at the cars passing by, for a good hour now and she’d gotten sick and tired of it. She had even tried adjusting her skirt a little, but that had only attracted the wrong kind of people to offer her a lift; the kind of people she wouldn’t dare get into a car with. But for the last quarter, she’d felt the sun on her skin from the back, so she decided to sit for a while. She set her sign with ‘Brighton’ on it against he knees so that passers-by would still see where she was headed. She let her long dark hair loose and ran her fingers through it to allow the wind to catch it, and her head tipped back, allowing for the warmth of the sun to arrive at her face. This was so different from the desperate standing by the side of the road; she could sit like this for ages.
Well, unless someone were to offer to give her a ride, of course.

It was a sunny outside when Alex (21) left his dorm. He looked up to the sky and smiled when he noticed there were very few clouds blocking the sun. It was with this positive feeling that he found a nice spot in the patch of grass opposite campus. He needed some time alone after all the drama he had had with the rugby team. Alex, as one of the best players, had fallen out of grace with some, which had divided the entire team. To fully enjoy the time he could spend on his own, he put on some music, ear phones in, and closed his eyes. He lay back, enjoying the way the sun’s rays stroked his already sun-loved skin. He only shortly opened his eyes and sat up to lit a cigarette, but he proceeded to smoke it with his eyes remaining closed. Even when a shadow cast over him, he didn’t look up. Probably someone passing by, he figured, or possibly someone lost or taking a picture of something. It was only when the shadow remained in place for over a minute that he opened one eye. He still didn’t see much, though, as the sun shone all too brightly into his eyes. “Can I help you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow and tapping the ashes off his cigarette.