--why so serious

That was -- that was a lot of text. Lyle pushed his book away, pulling his wand out of his sleeve. Stefan had come up with a spell just for Lyle -- something that would help him out for homework or for things like this. He tapped the paper and whispered the spell, the words twirling up and around his arm before they were read to him softly by Stefan's voice. It was just in his ear though -- or, rather, his head, if he stopped to think about it -- so that it wouldn't disturb anyone else.

He snorted as he listened, though, finding it ironic that it would be Stefan's voice that asked May's questions about his sexuality. Huffing another sigh he leaned back, digging into his bag for his Quick Notes Quill. He tapped that with his wand, letting it write out a reply before he sent the note back:

I find the exaggerating tone to your previous note to be quite ridiculous; the class within itself is only an hour and a half long, and by your estimations, you've been attempting to attract my attention for nearly three hours. I'm also not quite sure whether or not I should truly be offended by the accusations that I live in some rainbow -- are you saying that all homosexual people are faerie-like? Whilst I will admit that I am quite short-statured, I am by no means elvish.

Now, onto what truly matters in all of this nonsensical ramblings: I have been avoiding you, yes, since the last time we made acquaintance. I wish I could wrap you in a disillusion that it was merely by chance, but I cannot in good conscience allow myself to do as such. To be perfectly frank: I am quite enraged with you at the moment. If you were closer, I'd probably attempt to sew your mouth shut with your own hair and a needle far too big for the job, but just the right size for it to be suitably painful.

You made quite the fool out of me, my dear.

Lyle honestly had no idea what the quill wrote; he just knew that it tended to make things ten times more fanciful than he meant them. He mostly used it when he had an essay to write; it was perfect at creating just the right amount of fluff to gloss over the fact that he had no idea what he was talking about. He didn't even bother with Stefan's spell before tossing it May's way. He thought, the quill translated, she'd understand.

Oh. Well, apparently the quill makes him sound a hell of a lot like an idiot, too. She thought he was kidding; he really, really wishes this was just some kind of a joke. Shaking the last of the words out of his head -- particularly attempting to forget how the word "babe" sounded when spoken by Stefan -- he picked his wand back up to tap the quill again.

I do apologize for the over-all formality of tone in which this letter is being composed; if you must know, it is not me, but rather the quill in which I am using that dictates the exact phrasing of this note. Due to personal complications that I do not feel the necessity to divulge, I am using a Quick Notes Quill to correspond with you. Any comical phrasings are merely due to the general verbose nature of this particular piece of magic. I beg you not to laugh at the situation; the truth is that it is not at all the least bit funny.

Ah, well, the rainbow reference had been taken out of context and consequentially felt like an attack; I do apologize for my defensive nature. I just don't appreciate being mocked for merely being myself, and am quick to jump on even the remotest of possibilities of an attack. I do promise to keep that much more of an open mind about it. I am flattered by your kind words over my clothing choices; I do quite fancy myself to be a sharp dresser. At the very least, I will admit to my undying affection for bright colors. If I still wasn't so horrified by the consequences of your actions on Saturday, I would remind you that you did look equally stunning in your own ensemble; I'd probably even go on to say how well your hair cut compliments your facial features, but, alas, I am still quite offended and am thus denying myself the opportunity to return your charms.

Stefan is not of the homosexual orientation. The fact that I know this answer well enough to be able to state it as a fact should clue you into the implications of your words spoken whilst we danced. I do believe this justifies my not-so-subtle act of ignoring you.

Also, refrain from any such endearments, for my sake.

Lyle tapped his wand to the paper, letting Stefan's voice read back the words written by his wand. Blushing, though content, he sent the note back, sort of already expecting the type of reply he'd get:

He did sound a bit like a douche.

By the time Lyle's spell had reached the end of the note, his face was so hot and so red he was afraid that the power of his blush was going to melt his features right off his face. There was something about the way his stomach twisted when those terms of endearment came out -- and the way it absolutely fell out of his backside when the spell came to the word "love" -- that made him both incredibly happy and completely uncomfortable.

I do not mean to put the entirety of my blame upon you, as that is quite unfair; however, it had been your words that had originally put the idea in my head that Stefan could possibly be of the homosexual orientation. I had not even considered this to be a possibility before your rash and unfounded words, and it was those words that made me doubt the state of my friendship with Stefan. I did not ask him outright, no, but my fishing for answers upon the qualities he particularly fancies in the girls he wishes to date were answered ardently. Beyond that, it prompted some questioning on his part which brought upon the ultimate admission of my own affections. Beyond the pitying hug he bestowed upon me as I adequately overreacted, he completely changed the subject and the rest of what could have been a beautiful evening was ruined. So, while it wasn't entirely your fault, your words alone had been the catalyst to the actions wherein I can only blame myself.

I cannot express the absolute sincerity in my request that you stop yourself from furthering my embarrassment with more endearments. The charm with which I am using to read your notes is making me feel quite awkward when it comes to those particular portions of your correspondence. Please, for my sake, stop it immediately.

He honestly sat there and wondered at Maylene Bell for a good few minutes. Mostly, he wondered how someone could possibly be capable of both apologizing for leading someone on, and then continuing to do so anyway. He blinked and sighed, rolling his neck a little. He slowly began to message the back of it with a hand, idly tapping the Quick Notes Quill again with his wand.

How fortunate for me that you spoke of subject-changes, as I am quite firm in my belief that you and I are in need of one. The spell in question, for your idle curiosity, was created specifically and specially for me to help me get through my classes without constantly having to rely on the somewhat inconsistent help of my fellow classmates. It reads text off of a page and into my ear alone; the issue I have with endearments is listening to the spell read them in a very particular, very personal voice. I thank you for your acquiescence to my request.

Now, the subject change at hand. I have been doing rather splendidly, though Quidditch practice has been completely draining the past few afternoons. I trust you are also well?

You are correct in your assumptions on all counts, though I am completely ignorant to the specific date as to which this spell originated. I have been using it since to keep up with classwork, and am employing the use of a Quick Notes Quill to correspond with you and to dictate my essays. It's rather inconvenient at times, but it works for me. I do not wish to discuss this further; if you'd be kind enough to indulge my whims twice.

I'm First Chaser on the Hufflepuff team, though you probably do not recognize my visage purely due to the very simple fact that my hair used to be much longer. I cut it off short over the summer when it got to be too hot. I am deeply sorry to hear about the recent dissolving of your relationship, and I did, indeed, catch the most recent game between the rivalling houses. You played rather spectacularly, yes, I will agree.

The class is nearly through, May. Surely you can hold off on lunch until then, yes?

To be utterly and completely frank with you, I cannot for the life of me discern the true tone to any and all of your words. At first, it feels as if you might like me -- due mostly to the implication that you are doing me some sort of favor by not sticking your nose into business that is not of your own -- but then you go on to not apologize for slugging a bludger my way only to finish out the note with an offer of chocolate. Not that I particularly blame you for the lack of a proper apology -- Quidditch is a sport, after all, and you and I are on opposing teams, naturally a good, friendly rivalry is inevitable. Perchance what I am attempting to request is that you merely make yourself absolutely clear in your forthcoming response to this question of mine:

Do you want to be friends with me or not?

In answer to your own question, why, yes, I do believe I would enjoy one of your treats thoroughly. If you have one to spare, I would gladly accept it.