Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If I had taken a different route to class that morning, the past four years of my life probably would’ve played out a lot differently.

It was my first day of high school. I was fourteen years old, and my family and I had just moved to this little town called San Francisco a few weeks prior. I was handed a completely clean slate—no friends, no acquaintances. I knew no kids my age, unless you counted my sister Helen, who was younger than me by barely a year. She and our single mom tried to encourage me to make friends, but I wasn’t having it. As soon as I walked through the doors, I knew that everyone at school had already made friends, years ago. Which meant they didn’t need me.

That was until another freshman came up to me during passing period, between third and fourth. He told me his name. Sebastian. He was telling me he liked my shirt (a Radiohead band tee, which I was so excited about), and I felt the need to return the compliment. That was what people did to be nice, right? I had to be nice to make friends, and I had to make friends to make my mom proud. So before I could reel myself in and stop myself from saying anything stupid, that’s exactly what I did. It was like I was hearing my own voice come out of my mouth in slow motion.

I told him his eyes were pretty. If I could've gone back in time and sucker punched myself just to make sure those words never left my mouth, I would've done it in a heartbeat.

He gave me this weird look, like confusion and mild horror, which then morphed into embarrassment. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, muttering something about how he had to get to class. But he soon discovered that there was no need to bid me farewell, because we quickly realized that we were walking in the same direction.

Much to my dismay, we were in the same fucking chemistry class. And then we both just had to make the hockey team that winter.

We both stayed on the hockey team for the rest of our high school careers. Now, as you can imagine, being on the ice is daunting enough; hockey can be a scary, sometimes violent sport. But it’s even worse when you’re stuck on the ice with a guy who hates your guts because you called him pretty, and you just so happen to also be a guy. I think being on the same team and being forced to work together slowly built up this kind of quiet resentment between us. We never really fought, but we exchanged cold glares and flat stares all the time, whether it was on the ice or from across the chemistry classroom.

By sophomore year, though, that had changed. We had upgraded from squinty staring contests to shoulder checks in the halls, and snide remarks during practice. Whenever I missed a goal, he’d go, “Nice shot, McGrath,” and I seethed every time. But even throughout all of this, not once did he ever make a thing out of that compliment I had given him. He never said anything about me being gay, which I took as a sign that he knew better. Even though I hated him for everything else he did, I couldn’t help but silently appreciate that.

We never really fought. Not until junior year, anyway. We were in the locker room after a game, and I guess he was under the impression that I had somehow cost us the game. So he came and found me and decided he was going to throw me against the lockers. My body hit the metal with a loud clang, and immediately I knew I was done for. I had no idea how to fight. I might’ve been six feet tall, but what I had in height, I lacked in muscle. And it was no help that I’d always been clumsy. So Sebastian won that fight by a landslide.

But honestly, our goalie was out sick, and it was Sebastian’s duty to stand in for him. So if you really think about it, it was actually Sebastian that cost us the game, because it was his job to keep the puck from getting into our team’s goal. But he couldn’t even do that, could he? So he took it out on me instead of admitting his own faults. I’m sure this all could’ve been attributed to a simple case of being closeted on his part, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Sebastian was a total dick and I would’ve been perfectly content to never see him again. 

So, when it came time to apply to universities, I immediately ruled out all schools in or around San Francisco. San Francisco State probably would’ve been a good option, being local and easy to get into, but I truthfully dreaded staying in the same place for another four years. I went about an hour away, to this actually little town called Lakewood, and applied to Lakewood University as a fine arts major with a focus on creative writing.

I got my acceptance letter a few months later. When I opened it with my mom and my sister, we all cried. I knew I wasn’t going to be there to witness Helen’s senior year of high school, and for that, I felt terrible. I promised her I’d come back for her graduation, and her prom before that if she wanted, or even during finals if she needed help studying.

Helen and I spent that summer after I graduated making the most of the time we had. Not only was it my last summer at home before I ran off to college, it was also her last summer break before she was a senior, and she said she wanted to spend it living instead of rotting in bed.

“There’s no summer break after senior year,” she had said. “You just graduate, and then you go out into the world and try to figure things out.”

She felt the same fear that I had felt. That fear of losing the familiarity of high school, and the fear of how much responsibility is put on your shoulders immediately when you turn eighteen. The fear of not being a kid anymore. So we made a lot of trips to the beach, we road tripped to Santa Cruz together, and we took every opportunity to get out of the house and spend time with each other, because we had no idea when the next opportunity would come after I left.

It was during the unbearable mid-August heat that the time came for me to leave. Mom offered to drive me to Lakewood with Helen and drop me off, but I told her not to worry about it. I felt that if they were to drop me off, they would silently blame themselves for me leaving. I drove myself to Lakewood, so that way it would be my fault and no one else’s that I was gone. And before I knew it, I was walking up to the student housing building where I would be staying, called Kavanaugh Hall.

It was the day before classes started. I walked through the front doors with a backpack weighing down on my shoulders and one hand each holding a duffel bag. I ignored the incessant pounding of my heart against my ribcage and trudged down the hall, scanning the numbers on all of the doors.

103…

107…

112…

121…

I slowed to a stop in front of the door numbered ‘129’, all the way at the end of the hall. Glancing back over my shoulder, the hallway suddenly seemed to stretch on forever and ever, but through the haze of adrenaline and nervous anticipation clouding my thoughts, I distantly noticed a back entrance tucked at the very end of the hallway, directly to my right.

That’s convenient, I thought passively as I fished my room key out of my pocket. I slipped the key into the lock and twisted it, before gently pushing the door open with a quiet squeak of the hinges. Immediately, I should have noticed the faint smell of cologne lingering in the room, and the way the lights had already been turned on—but in the moment, I paid it no mind. I signed up for a double, anyway. I was supposed to have a roommate, who appeared to be the first one to show up.

I took a small, hobbling step into the dorm, tightly clutching my duffel bags, my face strained with effort as the straps dug into my palms. When I finally looked up from the carpet, I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart suddenly felt like a bag of rocks, dropping down into my stomach.

There he was, sitting on one of the twin beds that were pushed against the wall. There he was, with a mop of brunette curls atop his head, his ice-cold blue eyes seeming to pierce right through me the way they had in high school. I could still see a faint little scar right above his right eyebrow, from when a hockey puck had smacked him in the forehead during a particularly competitive game with our rival school. He ended up with a concussion and couldn’t play for the next couple of weeks. Those weeks were probably some of the most fun I ever had on the hockey team.

I am genuinely surprised I did not drop my bags on the spot and run away crying. Sebastian Angelini was my fucking roommate.

Similarly to how it had on that fateful first day of high school, four whole years ago, my mouth moved of its own volition and formed words before I could stop it. “What the hell are you doing here?’

Sebastian was sitting on the edge of what he had apparently claimed as his bed, leaning back on his hands, sprawled out like a cat. For the briefest of moments, genuine surprise flickered in his gaze as it landed on me, standing dumbly in the doorway like a lost kindergartener. But like a dying flame, it was gone as soon as it came, smoothly replaced by condescension and sneering pink lips. I wanted to punch that smug look right off his stupid face.

Sebastian snorted. “Um… this is my dorm?” He offered, ever so helpful.

“No—what? This is my dorm!” I retorted, shaking my head in denial. I took a step further into the room, dropping my duffel bags onto the floor and digging out the slip of paper I’d been given in the school’s main office. It had my name on it along with my student ID number and other important information I couldn’t have cared less about in the moment, but the most important part was the big, bold number in the middle: 129.

I was for sure in the right place.

I turned my glare back up at Sebastian, brandishing my paper slip like a weapon. “This has to be some kind of mistake.”

“Yeah, well, tough shit,” Sebastian butted in helpfully, and I could’ve sworn that the look in his eyes almost resembled amusement, like he was finding some sort of entertainment in my discomfort. “It’s too late for housing changes. If you try to go to the office now, they’re gonna laugh in your dumb face.”

I felt a twinge of annoyance at that, my brow furrowing in confusion, a soft huff of outrage falling from my lips. “My dumb face—whatever, Angelini!” I hissed.

But no matter how much I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. It was the day before classes started, so the staff in the main office were busy as ever. There was no way they’d do anything about my little feud with the roommate I never expected to see again.

I let out a quiet, grumbling sigh, defeat probably written all over my face, and took a step further into the dorm, kicking the door shut behind me. Probably a little too harshly, but whatever. I walked in a wide arc around Sebastian, steering clear of him like he was plagued, and stopped next to the unclaimed bed. It was pushed up against the wall, opposite from Sebastian’s bed, with about six feet of space between them. Each bed had a nightstand next to it, and at the foot of each bed was a desk. I dropped my duffel bags onto the bare mattress and let my backpack slip off of my shoulders, dropping it as well.

I could feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head, but I made a point to ignore it. I took my bottom lip between my teeth and chewed on it nervously as I zipped open one of the duffel bags I had brought. I rifled through it until I found what I was looking for; a set of off-white cotton bedsheets.

“Why do you have so much shit?” Came Sebastian’s voice from behind me, some of the bite now gone from it, replaced by genuine curiosity.

“Because I like to be prepared,” I said tersely, giving him a curt glance over my shoulder before I resumed my unpacking, digging through my duffel bag a little more aggressively than what was probably necessary. Gods, I can’t wait to tell Helen about this. “That’s why I have sheets and you don’t.”

“Yeah? That’s why I have pillows and you don’t.”

I froze on the spot. My eyes darted around—scanning the bed, scanning my bags. Looking for pillows that definitely were not there.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed, throwing my sheets down onto the bed. I clutched my hands to my head, as if I could somehow ward off the stress headache I felt coming on through sheer force, and groaned in frustration.

“Hey. Dude,” Sebastian said flatly. He let out a quiet chuckle, as if he found my display of anger amusing. “Just take one of mine.”

I felt something soft and plush hit me square in the back, knocking me forward a bit. I whipped around, ready to retaliate, but then my mind caught up to what had just happened.

There was a pillow on the floor at my feet, one that Sebastian had just thrown at me. One of his own pillows, and he was giving it to me. I eyed it like it was a foreign object, and then eyed Sebastian warily.

Is he seriously being nice to me? I thought. Who the fuck is this, and what has he done with Sebastian Angelini?

I looked down at the pillow again, staring at it dumbly for a long, awkward moment before I finally bent down to pick it up. Tentatively, because some small part of me expected this to be a trap, or a way for him to tease me. “Uh… thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sebastian mumbled, waving a dismissive hand in my direction. Despite the prickly, cold front he put up, I could tell something had changed in the few months that had passed since graduation.

As I fluffed up my borrowed pillow and placed it gingerly at the head of my bed, I thought to myself, maybe this won’t be all that bad.

Chapter Text

As the evening progressed, I unpacked the rest of my things and slid my duffel bags underneath my bed. My laptop now sat closed on the desk at the foot of my bed. My bed was made, fitted with fresh sheets and a pile of warm, heavy blankets, with one sad, lone pillow resting against the headboard. My journal sat on my nightstand, and all of the clothes I had brought were now placed neatly in a dresser, which was pushed up against the wall next to the door.

Of course, there was only one dresser, so my sleep shirts and boxers were nestled right next to Sebastian’s.

This was definitely going to be all that bad.

I had laid out a set of pajamas on my bed to change into, and now that I was settled in and everything was unpacked, there was nothing left for me to do except change out of the clothes I had been wearing all day. As I meandered over to my bed, purposely stalling in lieu of having to change in front of my high school bully, Sebastian was sprawled out in his own twin bed. He glanced up at me, peering at me over the top of his phone, and frowned.

“You look lost,” he observed dully.

“No I don’t,” I protested.

“Dude, this is your dorm, too. Change your clothes, I don’t care.”

“But that’s so awkward.”

Sebastian fell silent, sighing heavily, presumably in annoyance. He glanced up at the ceiling, as if silently praying to whatever gods could hear him, please give me the wisdom and strength not to strangle James McGrath.

Then, he looked back down to me. His voice was a little softer than before, but still gave away an air of mild impatience. “Would it make you feel better if we both changed at the same time?”

I couldn’t fight off the frown that made its way onto my face, my brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“Well, you know…” he trailed off, stammering a little bit. He sat up straighter in his bed, his phone now forgotten as it laid on the bed beside his thigh. “Then you won’t be the only one that’s changing. So it’s less awkward for you.”

“Yeah, less awkward for me, and more awkward for the both of us.”

“Dude, just fucking change. You’re standing there and pacing around and it’s throwing me off.”

“Oh, god forbid,” I grumbled quietly. My shoulders deflated with a heavy sigh of annoyance. There was no point in arguing, so I forced my legs to move and walked over to my bed.

Sebastian scooted to the edge of his bed and stood up, and I heard plastic rustling from behind me. He was digging clothes out of a trash bag, which he had haphazardly dumped on the floor next to his bed. I glanced over my shoulder at him, checking that he was turned away from me, and accidentally caught a glimpse of his lower back as he started pulling his shirt off over his head. I immediately stood up straight and snapped my head forward, like a drill sergeant had just ordered me to stand at attention.

It was like I was on autopilot as I quickly reached up, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and pulled it off. I felt my shoulders tense up, my heart rate spiking as the protective barrier of fabric between my skin and the air suddenly disappeared. I carelessly discarded my day clothes on the floor at the foot of my bed and hastily pulled on my pajamas; basketball shorts and an oversized band tee, whose fabric had been worn down and softened through years of use.

By the time I was done changing, my heart felt like it was trying to jump out of my ribcage. Keeping my head down and staring wide-eyed at the floor, I turned around and sat down on the edge of my bed.

“You decent?” I asked, and cringed internally when my voice cracked on the last syllable. Only slightly, but enough to be noticeable. I cleared my throat quietly.

“Yeah,” came Sebastian’s reply. He seemed way too casual about all of this. His voice was so steady, so smooth, like he truly couldn’t be less bothered. “You can stop breaking your neck now.”

My lips twisted into a frown. I lifted my head upright again, finding his gaze and shooting him a pointed look. Which he ignored.

“What’s your major, anyway?” He asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. We were sitting directly across from each other now, perched on the edges of our respective beds.

I guess this is the part where the awkward small talk begins.

I pulled my knees up close to my chest and folded my forearms across them. I was instinctively trying to make myself appear smaller, as one does when they’re in an uncomfortable situation and an unfamiliar place, and I silently hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Creative writing,” I answered simply.

“You still write?” He asked me, his eyebrows raising just slightly. I didn’t like the way that he seemed genuinely interested, or the fact that he remembered I’ve always liked writing. It made it harder to hate him and harder to understand him. “That’s cool. Um… I’m still doing photography, so.”

“Freelance?” I recalled out loud. I remembered now, he was our school’s photographer. He took all the pictures at the football games, and at the rallies, and at every other school-sanctioned event. Eventually, he started doing photography outside of school, too, and he was so good that people were willing to pay for his time when he was just sixteen.

“Yeah, freelance,” he confirmed with a small nod. He averted his gaze from mine, looking down at the carpeted floor instead. The corners of his lips twitched just slightly. It almost looked like he was fighting back a smile, and something in my chest warmed at the sight. “And it’s been going pretty well, so I figured… why not up my game and get a degree, y’know?”

“Student loan debt,” I offered helpfully.

Sebastian rolled his eyes at that, and the smile he had been struggling not to let show finally broke out across his face as he let out a soft huff. “Right. Forgot about that.”

Silence then fell over us like a blanket. Or a truckload of bricks. I’m not sure which one.

Being left alone with my thoughts was usually not a good thing, and I felt my mind start to wander. Back to all the bruises that I had left hockey practice covered in. My shins would be mottled with shades of blue and purple and yellow and brown, and my shoulders always felt a little more tense than they had when I got on the ice at the start of practice. I thought of all the snide, cutting remarks Sebastian made in class and during practice. I thought of all the animosity and utter rancor that had eventually led right to this moment. To the two of us sitting across from each other like this.

I couldn’t help but ask. “Why aren’t you still mad at me?”

Sebastian didn’t answer at first. I couldn’t exactly tell in the dim lighting of our dorm, but it looked like his shoulders had stiffened just slightly at the sudden question. A question he most likely didn’t even know the answer to. I was beginning to regret opening my mouth, as per usual. His smile was gone.

Just as I was about to apologize, to tell him to forget it, he spoke up softly.

“I think I am. But…” he trailed off, biting his lower lip. “I think I’m mad at myself, too.”

The corners of my lips twitched downwards into a frown. What did he have to be mad at himself for? Well, the way he had treated me throughout high school, of course. But why would he feel bad for that? I mean, doesn’t he hate my guts? Why would he be mad at himself for that?

Before I could even inhale the breath that I would use to ask him those questions, he suddenly rolled over to lay on his side, his back facing me, and pulled his blanket up over himself. “Just go to sleep, McGrath.”

I sat there and stared at him dumbly for an embarrassing amount of time. Seconds stretched into what felt like years. Like a lifetime.

I finally did as he said. Slowly, I let myself lay down, on my side and facing towards Sebastian. I pulled the layers of blankets I had laid out over my shoulders and did my best to get comfortable, sleeping in a bed that wasn’t mine. Resting my head on a borrowed pillow.

Sebastian’s pillow.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I was roused from sleep by sunlight creeping into my room through the blinds. The rays cast their warmth over my face, the light slipping through my eyelids and into my dreams.

As I began to stir, I thought for a moment that I was still back home. That I was in the comfort of my own bed, in the safety of my own room. Under the loving protection of my mother as she slept down the hall, and within the heartbeat of my baby sister as she slept in the next room over from mine. My eyelids fluttered open.

I reached out for my phone to check the time, and my eyes widened. It was already 9am. What time is my first class at again?

I breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, I had taken the advice of upperclassmen who told me not to sign up for an 8am class. My first class of the day wasn’t until ten.

I rolled over onto my back, flattening myself out across my bed. My blankets were a complete mess, tangled with my legs and hugging my hips. My arms and legs felt weak with the kind of relaxation that only comes after a good night’s sleep. The heavy, dreamless kind that leaves your limbs loose and makes you never want to get out of bed. I let out a contented sigh.

I remembered I wasn’t alone.

I quickly turned my head to the side, and there he was. Again. As he would be for the rest of the semester, and probably the next, too. That was, unless he decided he still hated me and demanded rehousing.

Sebastian was still fast asleep. Sometime in the night, he had rolled over, so now he was sprawled out kind of on his side and kind of on his stomach. He was hugging his pillow, with the side of his face smushed into it. He looked calm. Peaceful. A stark contrast to the version of him that I was used to seeing; confident, charming, kind of a jerk.

I slowly sat up in my bed and looked around. Our dorm was brightened by the morning sunlight streaming in through the window, the blinds creating slashes of shadows across the wall and the door.

Our dorm.

As quietly as I could, so as to avoid waking Sebastian, I got out of bed. I stalked over to our dresser and pulled the second drawer open. Inside were my shirts next to Sebastian’s shirts; button-downs and flannels next to t-shirts and tank tops, plaids and muted colors next to shades of black and gray.

I picked out one of my shirts at random. A short-sleeve button-up with a blue and white plaid pattern.

This time, I didn’t bother to turn around and check that Sebastian wasn’t looking before I pulled my t-shirt off over my head. I tossed it in the general direction of my bed before I shrugged the button-up on around my shoulders, leaving the front unbuttoned for the time being while I pulled open the third drawer down and looked for a pair of my jeans.

“When did you get so buff?”

I physically jumped at the sudden sound of Sebastian’s voice. As groggy and quiet as it may have been, it sounded as loud as a gong in the peaceful silence that had fallen over our dorm. I whipped around to face him, my eyes wide, my forearms immediately crossing over my chest in an attempt to hide as much skin from him as possible.

“I thought you were asleep!” I exclaimed, my voice coming out a little higher in pitch than I would’ve liked. I shot him what I hoped was an accusatory glare, but was actually probably a sheepish glance.

“I was,” Sebastian said simply, like it was the most casual thing in the world, him seeing me shirtless. He was propped up on one elbow, his brown curls now a disheveled mess. He must be a restless sleeper. “And then I woke up.”

“What… well…” I stammered helplessly for a few seconds, the crease between my brows only deepening and my embarrassment only growing. I shook my head rapidly, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. “Don’t look at me!”

Sebastian didn’t hesitate to reach a hand up and cover his eyes. “Right. Sorry.”

Immediately, I felt a little stupid for making such a big deal out of such a small thing. But I couldn’t help it. I had always been a skinny kid, and it had taken me all of high school—four whole years’ worth of insecurity—for me to even begin to feel okay with that. He was right, I had gotten bigger since he saw me last. My arms and legs were more toned. My stomach wasn’t as soft or as pudgy as it had been when I was fourteen years old. Now, my abdominal muscles were faintly outlined beneath my skin. I had a strong v-line, a slender waist. So why was I still so insecure?

I physically shook all those thoughts out of my head. I averted my gaze from Sebastian’s face, instead looking down at the floor as my fingers worked to button up the front of my shirt. I couldn’t bear to look at him right now.

“It’s okay,” I mumbled, and I was surprised to hear how childish I sounded. I felt like I was right back in the locker room. I could almost smell the sweat and the deodorant and the cologne, and I could almost hear the skates on the ice and the jeering laughter. But I refused to wallow in my own self-pity the way I had in high school. I refused to let my life at Lakewood be ruined by bad memories and shitty people.

I popped the last button of my shirt into place, and then reached down to dig a pair of jeans out of the third drawer. Just as soon as my basketball shorts came off, my jeans were on. I didn’t want to feel exposed any longer than I had to.

“You’re good,” I told Sebastian.

He parted his fingers and peeked out through the crack in between them with one eye. I couldn’t help but snicker at the sight, a smirk threatening to pull at my lips. He was making a show out of this. He was trying to cheer me up, and he couldn’t help but smile himself when he realized it was working. He pulled his hand off of his face and opened his eyes fully, grinning at me from his bed. I hated the way it made me feel when he looked up at me like that. Like he actually enjoyed looking at me.

“Nice shirt,” he said lightly, looking me up and down approvingly. I caught myself smiling, and I immediately forced a petulant frown onto my face, which Sebastian happily ignored.

“Whatever, Angelini,” I grumbled, waving a dismissive hand in his general direction.

We fell into a comfortable silence as I stepped over to my side of the room and knelt down, scooping a pair of sneakers out from under my bed and putting them on. I rested my chin on my knee as I tied one shoe, and then switched to the other.

“Hey,” Sebastian said, breaking through the quiet atmosphere. I lifted my head to look up at him just as I finished tying my shoe. “What’s your first class?”

“Intro to creative writing,” I answered simply. I stayed on the floor, sitting back on my haunches. “What’s yours?”

“I have a photography class first thing,” Sebastian said casually. He glanced over at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “That’s not until noon, though.”

“Mine starts at ten,” I said. I put one hand up on the edge of my bed and used it as leverage to pull myself up, getting up onto my feet with a quiet grunt of effort. I stood there a little awkwardly, brushing off the front of my shirt to occupy my hands. “So, I should probably, uh… get going.”

“Yeah… probably,” Sebastian said quietly. His eyes were locked on me the entire time, not leaving my face even for a second. I tried desperately to ignore the way my heart fluttered in my chest as I saw the way he looked up at me, and the way my face warmed up under his attention. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding once as I took a few steps over to my nightstand, grabbing my wallet, phone, and my carabiner with one sad, lone key on it. I paused for a moment to just look at him, and I let out a quiet chuckle. “It’s not like I have anywhere better to be.”

Sebastian snorted. “I know you don’t.”

I forced a frown onto my face and glanced crossly at him, although I couldn’t help the way the corners of my lips kept twitching upwards. In an attempt to hide just how much I was beginning to enjoy his company, I turned around and started towards the door. I leaned down and scooped up my navy blue canvas backpack off the floor on my way, slinging one of the straps over my shoulder.

“Later, Angelini,” I said.

“Try not to get lost, McGrath,” he shot back. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could tell he was grinning because I could hear it in his voice.

“Don’t get your hopes up!” I called over my shoulder as I pulled the door open. I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind me.

Chapter Text

My first class of the day today, Intro to Creative Writing, was in room N103. I’d made sure to memorize my schedule and class locations in the week before I got to Lakewood, so I knew exactly where I was going.

All of the classes were divided up by subject and sorted into separate buildings. All the English classes were in one place, all the science classes were in one place, and there was an art building for all the fine arts classes. That’s where Sebastian will be. The English classes, according to the map of campus I’d found on the school website, were in a building called Rosenthal Hall.

I pushed open the front doors of Kavanaugh Hall, and as I stepped outside, I was immediately blinded by the sun. It was a good thing the window in my dorm was south-facing, or I’d be waking up to that every morning.

As I started my short walk towards Rosenthal Hall, I took the time to look around. I watched other students walking around campus, scattering all over the walking paths and circling the quad like ants.

I passed by a cafe connected to another one of the residence halls, which housed exclusively juniors and seniors. I glanced down at my wristwatch.

I don’t have time to stop now, I thought. Maybe later.

Rosenthal Hall was an impressive building even in the pictures online. In person and up close, it was beautiful. And staggeringly tall. It reached several stories high, made of stone and wood and completely timeless. It almost kind of looked like a cathedral, but it wasn’t. There was an actual cathedral on campus, too, so I’d know.

The front doors were kind of intimidating. They were tall, adorned with intricate carvings, and by the looks of it, made of solid wood. It took a lot more effort than I would’ve liked to admit to push one of the doors open.

I stepped inside. I felt my heart skip a beat as the sound of the door closing behind me reverberated throughout the hall, bouncing off of the walls and the exposed wooden beams.

Rosenthal Hall served as both the home to all English classes at the university as well as a library. I found myself standing in a long, wide hallway, with classrooms on either side of me, and I could see towering bookshelves at the end of the hall. In the center of the building was the library. The ceilings reached so high, I suddenly felt way out of my depth. Everything felt so much more real.

Room N103. I started walking down the hall. I checked the numbers on all of the classroom doors as I passed by them, but I couldn’t help but feel a little distracted as I drew closer to the library. The bookshelves were so tall, and not a single inch of shelf space appeared to be wasted. There were hardwood tables all around, with a handful of students seated at a few of them. Rays of sunlight streamed into the building through skylights and stained glass.

I forced myself to keep walking. I’d have to come back later.

I found my class and peered into the room through the open door. There were plenty of students already gathered, sitting at round tables and chatting quietly. I felt my heart sink.

We’re sitting in groups? I thought. What the fuck does a creative writing class need to be in groups for?

No matter how nervous I was, I refused to be the idiot who stands in the middle of the doorway and causes traffic. I took one step after the other, slowly, and scanned the different people at the tables.

A young woman in a hijab sat with a dark-haired man. They seemed to be deep in conversation. I’d rather not interrupt them.

A person with a head of vibrant pink hair sat at a table in the back of the class, facing away from me. They were surrounded by people who I assumed were their friends, all with piercings and alternatively styled hair, all well-dressed in variations of goth and punk attire. I’d rather not butt into their friend group.

A girl with a blond-tipped afro sat with an auburn-haired guy, at a table tucked into one of the back corners of the room, closest to the bookshelves. They appeared to be a couple at first, but upon seeing a sticker of the lesbian flag on the girl’s laptop, I figured it was safe to assume they probably weren’t. Two seats were open at their table. 

I made a beeline towards the table in the corner, before promptly forcing myself to slow down.

Let’s not seem too eager.

I slowed to a stop a couple of feet away from one of the open chairs and hesitantly cleared my throat to grab their attention. Two heads turned to face me, eyeing me curiously.

“Um…” I started, gesturing vaguely towards the chair. “Y’all mind if I sit here?”

The girl’s features almost seemed to brighten, and she smiled warmly. “Oh, not at all. Go ahead.”

I murmured my thanks and stepped up to the chair, keeping my head down. I pulled the chair out and set my bag down on the ground next to it, and then took my seat.

When I looked up, I found a pair of green eyes staring at me. The redhead had apparently been eyeing me suspiciously, but with a subtle swat to the wrist from his friend, he finally looked away. I realized I should probably try to break the ice; these people didn’t know me, and I was starting to feel a little bad for interrupting them and making the air around the table stale with my awkward presence.

I swallowed nervously and then spoke up quietly. “Uh… I’m James, by the way.”

“James,” the girl repeated. She nodded once, and with a small smile tugging at her lips, she gestured towards herself. “I’m Hazel—“ she paused briefly and motioned towards the guy sitting next to her. “—And this is Mason.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, glancing back and forth between the two of them. I tried my best to conjure up a friendly smile, but it was probably more awkward and nervous than anything.

We fell into a bit of an awkward silence, and I averted my gaze down to the table, trying to avoid making unnecessary eye contact. Hazel looked like she was going to say something more, but before she could get any words out, we heard the faint sound of high heels clicking on the tile floor. The sound was slowly growing louder, approaching.

The three of us turned our heads just in time to watch as a woman walked in through the door, with flowing blonde hair and tan skin, dressed in a dark red blouse and black slacks. Immediately, silence fell over the room like a blanket; no one dared to speak out of turn in the presence of this woman, who exuded such graceful authority that all eyes turned towards her with rapt attention without her even having to utter a single word.

She stopped behind her desk at the front of the classroom and gently set her bag down on the floor next to her seat. Then, she stood up straight and addressed the class as a whole.

“Good morning,” she said simply. Her voice was low and smooth and sweet, like molasses. “Welcome to Creative Writing. My name is Professor Pazienza, but you all can call me Paz.”

Paz started off the class by going over the syllabus. Late work would be accepted with no penalty for up to two weeks after the posted due date. We would have a new writing assignment every week, due on Fridays; she said it would usually be poetry, essays on any topic of the student’s choice (college appropriate), or some form of storytelling. All class materials would be available online.

Then, much to my horror, she directed us to start group discussions with the other students at our tables. She wanted us to introduce ourselves to each other, which beats standing up in front of the class and naming three fun facts about myself, I guess.

Okay, horror is probably a little dramatic, I reasoned silently. Hazel and Mason seem nice enough.

The three of us turned to face each other, and for a solid five seconds, we just stared at each other dumbly. Hazel spoke first.

“What’s that symbol on your necklace?” She asked me curiously, gesturing in the general direction of my neck.

“Oh—“ I started, glancing down at my necklace for a brief moment. I took the silver pendant between my thumb and index finger, holding it where she and Mason could see it better. “It’s a triquetra. A Celtic knot.”

This seemed to catch Mason’s attention. He eyed me silently for a moment while Hazel nodded slowly and hummed, her eyebrows raised in mild intrigue.

Then Mason spoke up next.

“You’re Irish?” He asked me, his eyes softened into a kind of calm curiosity, rather than suspicion. He spoke with a slight Scottish accent.

“Yeah, half,” I answered simply with a small nod. I continued to toy absentmindedly with my necklace, my thumb and forefinger rubbing over the symbol. “My dad was from Donegal, and my mom is from Greece.”

We kept talking for a few more minutes, chatter and quiet laughter filling the room, before Paz continued on and began her first lecture. Seeing as it was our first day, everything was really simplified and condensed to be more easily digestible. An hour later, Creative Writing was done and we were dismissed, but not before Hazel and I exchanged phone numbers. I didn’t get Mason’s just yet, but I felt confident we’d get there eventually. Sure, he was suspicious of me at first, but I had a sneaky feeling he was the kind of person who just needed a chance to warm up to new people. Next up, I would be going to Math, and then Chemistry. Tomorrow, I’d have Sociology, and then History.

On my way out of Rosenthal Hall, I walked by the cafe again. I had half an hour until my math class started, so I figured, why not?

I walked into the cafe and went up to the counter.

Chapter Text

After James left the dorm, I just laid there, sprawled across my bed. I was really tempted to go back to sleep, but it was close to ten and my first class was at noon—I didn’t trust myself not to oversleep at this point. So I just let my mind wander.

I know what you’re probably thinking. A chapter from Seb’s perspective? Since when was that an option? Well, dear reader, this has been a joint effort all along. This story just so happens to actually lead somewhere.

I’m honestly not sure what I was hoping for at graduation. I figured I’d just go and get it over with, but to tell the full and complete truth, I was ecstatic. I couldn’t wait to get out of high school and do things I actually wanted to do. I couldn’t wait to have the free will that adults had. My last name is Angelini, so, since it starts with ‘A’, I was one of the first to walk on the stage and get my diploma. James McGrath was somewhere in the middle.

I thought that day was going to be the last time I ever saw him. I thought my last memory of him would be him walking across the stage, his scrawny frame drowned in green and white robes, his fiery red curls flattened down by the grad cap on his head. I remember there being a special high honors tassel attached to his cap. He fell just short of valedictorian.

Now, as to how we ended up at the same university, let alone in the same fucking dorm, I have no idea. He’s always been so much smarter than me, so I’m not exactly sure how we wound up in the same place. I mean, shouldn’t he have been in some big, fancy school like Stanford or something?

In high school, I was mediocre at best. I got average grades, but I had a lot of friends—which didn’t make up for it at all. That stupid thing people always say about quality over quantity is absolutely true, and I learned that the hard way when I realized most of the kids I considered my friends didn’t actually care to hear about how my day was, or what I’d been up to in the days, sometimes weeks that would go by without us talking at all.

The thing is, I was like the opposite of James in so many ways. We were just so different from each other. He never concerned himself with upholding pointless friendships and social interaction. He did band. He did theatre. He made real friends there, and he had fun doing it. I guess that’s why I was so angry with him all the time. He knew what he wanted. He knew what he was doing and where he was going in life. He always had his shit together. I didn’t.

I submitted an application to Lakewood University because I’d heard whispers of their impressive fine arts programs. I’d heard of their first-rate photography program, and how many of its alumni went on to lead colorful careers in the field after getting their degrees. I’d heard of the darkroom and the elaborate processing procedures they taught in it, and the thought of getting to learn in such a professional setting made my chest tighten with excitement. I absolutely loved photography—I still do—and I knew that a degree from Lakewood would make me stand out in the field.

My portfolio and my essay must have been impressive enough to make up for my grades, because I got a letter informing me that I’d been admitted to the university. Out of every 100 applicants, only 23 were accepted. And I was one of them.

Lakewood was one of the top universities in California, especially for fine arts and liberal studies majors. I remembered the day I got my acceptance letter; my dad was away, as usual, on a business trip. This time he was in… I think it was France. I guess that was one thing James and I had in common. His dad was dead, and mine might as well have been with how little I saw of him.

But I didn’t need him to celebrate my accomplishments, because my mom did enough of that for both of them. She was so proud of me, it made me proud of myself. I felt so honored to be able to go to the college of my dreams. It was going to change my life.

I sat up in my bed. I glanced over at the alarm clock on my nightstand, and the numbers read 10:02 AM. I still had two hours to kill before my first class started, and I was already getting bored out of my mind.

I stood up and crouched beside my bed. Right where I’d left it the night before, under the bed, was a black backpack. It held everything I’d need to practice photography; my camera, my other camera, film strips, battery chargers, memory cards, you get the gist.

I hoisted the backpack up off the floor and onto my bed, before turning around and heading for the dresser. I rifled through the drawers, forcing myself to ignore James’s clothes neatly folded right next to my own, and took out a fresh change of clothes; a pair of baggy jeans and a grey tank top.

I changed my clothes in silence, and put my boots on in silence. I had to appreciate the peace and quiet while it was here, because I figured I wouldn’t be alone like this very often anymore.

I left the dorm with my backpack slung over my shoulder and made sure to lock the door behind me. Lakewood University was famous for its scenery on campus, so I’d spend the next hour or so taking pictures and practicing my photography.

My first destination was the Trinity Cathedral. It was about a five-minute walk from my dorm, and I walked the whole time in peaceful quiet. I even silently appreciated the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling, which I never used to do. I savored the feeling of the cool, late-morning breeze, knowing that in a couple of hours it would be almost unbearably hot. Lakewood University was forcing me to stop and let my heart beat and my lungs breathe, but I wasn’t exactly mad about it.

Honestly, the pictures of the cathedral on the school’s website didn’t do it justice. The cathedral itself was tall, with spires and towers reaching up towards the clouds, intricate woodwork on the front doors, and pristine stone walls. It had obviously been standing for a long time, but it was still beautiful. Lakewood University was an old school, founded in 1810, so most of the buildings were fairly old. I could only imagine the thousands of people who had walked this exact path, hundreds of years before I did. The people who had been in and out of this building, sat in its pews and prayed at its altar. I wasn’t exactly religious, but I could still appreciate the history.

I slowed to a stop in front of the cathedral, my mouth slightly agape as I stared up at it in awe. I probably looked like a complete idiot, standing in the middle of the walkway and gawking up at what was probably an everyday sighting for other students, but in the moment, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

I let my backpack slip off of my shoulders and brought it around in front of me, dropping down onto one knee to dig out my camera. I stayed crouched on the ground, cobblestone digging into my knee through my denim, and squinted one eye closed as I brought the camera up to my face. Looking through the lens, the bright blue hue of the sky seemed to be even more vibrant. The cathedral almost seemed to stand taller, as if it knew its picture was being taken.

I took a bunch of pictures of the cathedral from different angles, from different places, getting a few close-ups of the carvings in the stone walls and the imagery in the stained glass windows. I even went inside and got a few pictures of the murals on the wall and the ceiling, of the pews made of solid wood, the pretty light fixtures, and the holy water glistening in the stoup near the front doors.

I soon realized I had lost track of time and glanced down at my watch. It was 10:54. I still had a little bit of time.

I slung my backpack over one shoulder and left the cathedral, my camera hanging around my neck by the strap. I started heading in the general direction of the fine arts hall, where the photography studio was located. I meandered slowly, stopping to take a few pictures here and there, of the trees that lined the walking paths and the flower beds laid across the lawn and whatever else caught my eye. 

Once I finally made it to the fine arts hall, I stopped and sat down on a bench outside the building. While I started packing up my camera back into my backpack, I took a moment to look around. It wasn’t exactly a busy morning, but there were quite a few students walking around. Some sat huddled in the shade under the trees, others strode purposefully through the quad, probably to wherever their next classes were.

Somehow, between all the faces I didn’t recognize and the constant movement of people walking around, I spotted a familiar head of red hair. Loose curls glittering under the morning sunlight, like strands of pure copper.

James.

Just as soon as I caught sight of him, he disappeared into a cafe.

It took me a moment to get my train of thought back on track before I was able to bring my attention back to what I was doing. It was like the sight of him had scrambled my thoughts. Or something.

I stuffed my camera into the bag, hastily making sure everything was in place and secure before I zipped it up and sprang up to my feet. I swung my backpack over one shoulder and immediately made a beeline for the cafe.

As soon as I walked through the door, I was met with the strong smell of coffee hanging heavy in the air. Voices filled the space around me. Some people sat in groups, while others sat alone, typing away on a laptop or scribbling something in a notebook. This was definitely a lively atmosphere, but that was probably to be expected on a Monday morning.

I scanned every face in the cafe like a hawk until I spotted James again. He had just been handed a drink and some kind of pastry by one of the baristas, and was walking off towards an empty table in the corner of the cafe. I was about to immediately start walking after him, but then I decided to play it cool.

I walked up to the counter and almost ordered a black coffee, but then remembered I was in California in late August. It was way too hot for that. So I ordered a plain iced latte instead, which tasted like it was more milk than coffee, but at least it was cold. It was only a couple minutes before the same barista who had given James his drink handed me my own.

I thanked her and started heading over towards the table in the corner, the coffee in my hand temporarily forgotten as I zeroed in on James. He was sitting with his back turned to me, facing a window, his broad shoulders hunched over just slightly as he sifted through a book he had just pulled out of his backpack. What a fucking nerd.

I silently came up behind him and he didn’t even flinch. He had no idea I was there. For a few moments, I considered just standing there and waiting to see how long it would take him to notice me standing right behind him.

Instead, I waited until he had his coffee raised to his lips and spoke abruptly. “You should sit up straight.”

He just about fell out of his seat. He coughed weakly as he set his drink down on the table in front of him. He then whipped his head around to face me, his eyes wide. For a short-lived moment he glared at me, half-indignant and half-startled, until the recognition came a split second later and his expression softened.

“What the hell?” He bleated, his voice trembling slightly, as if I had scared the living daylights out of him. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” I answered simply, not even bothering to ask before I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. He didn’t flinch, didn’t protest, didn’t tell me to fuck off and leave him alone. I saw that as a win. “I was out taking pictures and I saw you come in.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” he breathed out, pressing his hand flat to his chest, probably trying to calm his pounding heart. It was then that I started to feel a little bad. I’d made his heart race, but not in the way I so badly wanted to. “I almost choked.”

“I’m sorry,” I drawled, my lips quirking up into a soft smile. “Just…” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely in his general direction. “What’s up with your posture, dude?”

“It’s bad,” he stated simply with a little shrug. I expected him to say more, but when he averted his gaze from mine and instead reached out to take a sip of his drink, I couldn’t help the bark of laughter I let out.

“Yeah, no shit,” I chuckled. “You—“

“Did you come to my table to bully me, or are you actually gonna be nice to me for once?” He asked suddenly, cutting me off. I knew there was no real bite to his words; the gleam of amusement in his eyes gave that away. But I knew he was right. If I wanted to make up for how much of a jerk I was to him in high school, this was where I’d have to start. Small talk.

“So,” I started slowly, drawing out the ‘o’. My pointer finger absentmindedly circled the lid of my coffee cup where it was on the table in front of me. “How was creative writing?”

“Oh, it was fun,” he answered, and his eyes almost seemed to light up a little bit. He leaned forward in his seat ever so slightly—leaned towards me. “I met this girl and this guy. Hazel and Mason. They’re pretty cool. And so is the professor, her name’s Paz.”

“Wow,” I said quietly, nodding slowly as I listened to him. “Hazel and Mason? What’s up with them?”

“I don’t really know. I thought they were a couple at first, but… Hazel’s actually lesbian,” he explained, and his shoulders started to sag. He started to look a little regretful, like he was wishing he hadn’t brought it up at all, wishing he hadn’t let his mouth run. I felt the beginnings of a concerned frown tugging at the corners of my lips as I noticed how hesitant he seemed, his words becoming quieter and almost uncertain.

It took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize that he was scared to say the word lesbian around me. Just like he was scared to say gay, or trans, or queer, or any other word like that around me. I felt my heart sink into my stomach like a lead weight.

James took a deep breath before he continued. “But they’re cool. It’ll be nice to make some friends. Like, y’know, gay ones.”

I felt the strangest urge to open up to him then. To tell him how I was starting to feel like I might not be as straight as I had thought I was. How I was starting to realize that all those times I had shoulder checked him in the halls or purposely knocked him over in hockey practice, it was just an excuse to get close to him. To tell him that he had already made a friend like him, and it was me. But that was all still so new to me. I had never felt like that before.

Actually, that’s a lie. I had felt like that all throughout high school, maybe even before. I had just never entertained that thought until more recently.

Instead of airing it out to him and being honest, I decided to hide. The same way I did when we were fourteen years old and he told me my eyes were pretty. To this day, no compliment has ever made me feel the way that one did. I had just shrugged it off and told him, told myself, that I wasn’t gay. But deep down, in my heart and in the marrow of my bones, I knew that was a lie. And once I knew he thought they were pretty, my eyes became my favorite part of my face.

“Yeah,” I said softly, giving him a small, tight-lipped smile as I nodded weakly. “That’ll be nice.”

James kept talking; about his schedule for the rest of the day, about the writing project he would start tonight for his creative writing class, about the plot of the book he had been reading before I snuck up behind him and scared him and forced my way into his life. Again. He held it up so I could see the cover better. He looked so… impassioned. He was so happy to be talking about the things he liked, and I wanted to keep him talking forever, just to hear his voice.

But, with doubts and regrets and unfulfilled wishes swirling around in my head, I wasn’t really hearing him anymore.

Chapter Text

With about fifteen minutes to spare before my next class began, Sebastian and I left the cafe and went our separate ways. I’ll spare you the boring details, but the rest of my day went by pretty quickly. I went to math, tried not to let it bore me to death on the first day, and then went to chemistry, which was a little more bearable because I’ve always enjoyed science. And the professor also didn’t drone on and on for the whole hour.

By late afternoon, I was back in my dorm.

I gently kicked the door shut behind me and dropped my bag off next to my desk. Sebastian wasn’t back yet, so I freely changed out of my polo and jeans and replaced them with baggy sweatpants and a tank top. If I was going to spend the next hour, or two hours, or however long sitting at my desk, I’d rather be comfortable.

Paz had given us our first writing assignment during class today: an autobiographical essay. She said it was always the first thing she assigned her students, a way to get to know us better before we all really settled in and got all cozied up with each other for the rest of the semester.

I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop, pulling up a blank Google doc.

There was no real prompt for this essay; the only requirement was that the topic was myself. That was fine by me. An essay with no prompt was like a sandbox. I could write about literally whatever I wanted, as long as it pertained to myself in some type of way.

Rather than sit and brainstorm, I just started writing and let the words flow out of my fingertips. I’d always found that it was easier (and more fun) to get my thoughts down first, and revise them later if needed.

I eventually fell into such a good rhythm that I almost didn’t notice the sound of the door opening behind me. I turned and glanced over my shoulder just in time to watch as Sebastian walked in. He gave me a small, tired smile as he closed the door behind himself.

“Hey,” I greeted him simply.

“Hey yourself,” he said. He only spared me a fleeting glance before he stalked over to his bed. He dropped his backpack next to his desk and then sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning over to untie the laces of his boots.

I winced sympathetically as I watched him. His hands moved sluggishly, and he heaved a great sigh as he kicked his boots off, leaving them strewn haphazardly on the floor. His hair stuck up in different directions, as if he had been running his hands through it. That was a nervous habit of his. He always did it in high school, too. Don’t ask me why I know that. I’m just very observant. Not like I was paying Sebastian any extra attention.

“That bad, huh?” I silently prayed that I hadn’t done anything to contribute to the state he was in. Maybe it was the cafe? Maybe I had talked too much? Had I really screwed it all up on the first day? Screwed it all up before I got the chance to—

“Yeah,” Sebastian breathed out, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. He leaned back on his hands, tilting his head tiredly to the side. “Not… bad, exactly, just… tired, y’know?”

I hummed softly in agreement, leaning back in my chair and spinning slightly to face more towards him, and crossed my arms over my chest. Not in a guarded, closed-off kind of way, but more like a sort of self-hug. I swiveled slightly from side to side, a slow, swaying motion. I sighed inwardly in relief knowing that he wasn’t already getting annoyed with me, but some evil little thing in the back of my head chorused that it was only a matter of time before he did.

An easy silence settled between us, and I brought my attention back to my project in bits and pieces, some part of my consciousness still lingering in the corner of my mind that belonged to Sebastian. We spent a few minutes like that, just existing comfortably, which was such a strange sensation to share with someone who I had spent the last four years thinking I hated. I kept typing, and Sebastian changed out of his day clothes into basketball shorts and a sleep shirt. The fabric was loose and baggy, hanging off of the strong slope of his shoulders like a drape, the material worn through years of use. 

Then, when Sebastian dropped down onto his bed, the silence was finally broken as he spoke quietly. “So I heard there’s gonna be a party this weekend.”

I didn’t bat an eye. I came to college already knowing that parties wouldn’t really be my thing. Sebastian probably assumed as much, so, naturally, this surely would have nothing to do with me. I kept typing, pausing only for a moment to glance over at him briefly. He was laying on his side, his head propped up against the palm of his hand. I felt my gaze lingering a little too long on the soft rise and fall of his chest and silently prayed that he hadn’t noticed. “You gonna go?”

“No, sir,” he said, not missing a beat. That was when I stopped typing for real. I turned my head to look at him, brow furrowed in confusion. He was smirking at me, his finger pointing back and forth between his own chest and me. “We are gonna go.”

I felt my face twist into something like a grimace, my eyes widening. I silently raised my eyebrows and lifted a hand, pointing a finger at my own chest. He simply nodded.

“Why me?” I asked, my voice cracking. “I don’t—I’ve never been—“

“We should go together,” he said simply, like it was the most casual thing in the world. He shrugged. “It’ll be fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes at that. “McGrath, you can’t just spend your entire time in college holed up in this dorm, reading or whatever other nerd shit you do. Let me take you to this party.”

I felt my heart skip a beat. I hated even the mere idea of a college party, or any kind of party for that matter, but the way he said it made something in my mind crumble, leaving behind not even the faintest trace of my resolve. I mean, let him take me to this party? If we were to be together the whole time, and I wouldn’t have to find my way through a frat house by myself, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I didn’t particularly want to go, but if Sebastian happened to forcefully drag me out of our dorm and bring me to the party, I wouldn’t have been all that mad about it.

I hid my hands in my face and sighed. “Fine.”

The rest of the week went by just about the same. We fell into our own weird little routine, going to classes during the day and doing our own thing at night. I wasn’t sure if what we did could exactly be classified as hanging out, but it was something close to it. We didn’t always talk, but there was this slow-building, unspoken kind of calm and familiarity between us. We were learning to be comfortable with each other.

That weekend, as the sun began to set and Saturday afternoon gave way into Saturday evening, I found myself at my desk again. I was working on a small writing project—a short story, just for fun. I figured that maybe once it was finished, I could turn it in to Professor Pazienza for extra credit. It was told from the perspective of a teenage boy who woke up one morning and discovered that he had gained the ability to fly.

I was writing the part where he tests his newfound ability, taking a leap of faith off of the roof of a fifty-story building and letting himself free-fall. He stretched his arms out, as if he was about to embrace the pavement that was rushing up to meet him, wind sweeping through his hair and biting into his skin. He broke out of his nose-dive and saved himself at the last second, pulling up to ascend into the sky again, a wide grin splitting across his face, laughing wildly—

Sebastian appeared at my side.

“What are you doing?” He asked me.

I didn’t answer him. I just leaned back in my chair and silently turned my laptop towards him, so that he could read the words on the screen easier. I turned my head to look up at him and watched expectantly as he read, his eyes darting back and forth.

Seconds ticked by in silence and Sebastian’s lips twitched downwards into a barely-there frown. “That’s kinda dark,” he said. He leaned in a little closer, squinting at the screen as if he was trying to decipher some kind of riddle.

“Is it?” I asked. I glanced over at my laptop and then back up at him. My eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t think it’s dark. He’s learning more about himself, and his abilities. It’s a journey of self-discovery.”
Sebastian seemed to ponder that for a few moments. He nodded slowly, a soft hum leaving the back of his throat. “Yeah,” he said eventually, straightening up and shrugging. “I guess you’re right.”

I grinned up at him triumphantly, like some kind of fool. “That’s why I’m the writer and you just read my writing.”

Sebastian snickered at that, and I felt something in my chest swell with pride knowing that I drew that sound out of his mouth. “Whatever, dude,” he said, giving my shoulder a light shove. He then suddenly reached down and took my hand in his, hauling me up to my feet.

I stumbled forward, a soft sound of surprise slipping out of my lips, before I regained my footing and found myself standing face-to-face with Sebastian, no more than a foot apart. He didn’t let go of my hand, so I didn’t let go of his, either. My eyes darted back and forth between his, like they were ice blue stepping stones. But the moment was over before I could savor it, or relish in the feeling of his skin against mine, the gentleness of his hand.

Sebastian grinned down at me and pulled away. He turned around, walking over towards our shared dresser. “Come on, we have to get ready.”

We both picked out clothes to put on, and with our backs turned to each other, we changed into them. Changing clothes like this was routine for us now; any discomfort that either of us had felt on that first night was now gone. We were both wearing something simple: Sebastian wore a tank top and jeans, and I wore a t-shirt and jeans. It was so unlike me to wear anything other than my usual button-down, or sweater, or polo, but I would’ve hated to get alcohol spilled on a nice top and ruin it.

And that’s how I found myself leaving the comfort and safety of our dorm and stepping out into the warm evening air with Sebastian. The sun had dipped below the horizon now, leaving the sky a dim shade of blue, streaked with orange and pink clouds. We walked off campus and started heading towards the address that Sebastian had been given. It was some house in a cul-de-sac, probably owned by the poor parents of some upperclassman, who had no idea their kid was throwing a party while they were gone. It wasn’t too long of a walk by any means—maybe about half an hour.

I could hear the music before I even saw the house. That was the first red flag. The first of many.

The sky was pitch black now, and I found myself staring up at the stars, marveling. That was the thing I hated most about living in a big city like San Francisco; you could hardly ever see any stars. But out here, basically in the middle of nowhere, I could see a smattering of them across the sky. Lakewood wasn’t a big town at all—the only thing the locals had to brag about was a prestigious university right at their doorstep—so there was basically no light pollution. I hated being surrounded by lights. Especially ones like the particularly bright and colorful lights that were coming from the house we were walking up to.

As we walked up through the front lawn, we had to step over various empty glass bottles and red cups, and skirt around a group of guys drinking straight from a keg. How the neighbors hadn’t already called the cops to complain by now, I had no idea.

We walked in through the front door and I already wanted to leave. Instinctively, I hovered a little closer to Sebastian’s side, and I reached out to grab onto his tank top. Not a handful, and not too tight, either—I just pinched a little bit of the fabric around his waist, right above his hip, subtly holding onto him. Just to make sure I didn’t lose him in the crowd. He hardly even reacted, except for a brief glance at me over his shoulder.

The music was so loud it felt like it was consuming me. I felt it in my chest, behind my ribs and my sternum, the bass drowning out my own heartbeat. Bright lights in varying shades of blue and purple and pink turned the house into a makeshift nightclub. There were people everywhere. Dancing, drinking, talking (more like shouting), making out, you name it.

But Sebastian didn’t seem nearly as bothered as I felt. Because why would he be? He was used to this. He had been to all kinds of parties in high school, even hosted some. He glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure I was still there, still breathing, and then he led me over to the kitchen.

There, it was just slightly more bearable than the rest of the house. There were only a few other people in the kitchen, and they didn’t even spare us a glance. There was a giant bowl on the counter, filled with punch, and I didn’t even want to know what kind of stuff it had probably been spiked with by now. Sebastian paid it no mind and went straight for the red cups. He grabbed two, and I felt my heart skip in alarm.

I took a quick step towards Sebastian, my widened eyes darting from him, to the red cups in his hands as he filled them up at the keg, then back to him. “Hey, wait—what are you doing? I don’t want any.”

Sebastian paused and looked over at me. He held out one of the cups towards me, filled up about three quarters of the way with straight beer. “What do you mean, you don’t want any? This is, like, the best part.”

I hesitated, chewing on my bottom lip. This had always been a problem of mine: backing out of things because I was scared. Missing out because I would rather be safe than let myself venture out of my shell. Drinking definitely was not my idea of fun, but wasn’t that part of the full college experience? The dorm, the parties, the booze? Not to give in to peer pressure, but I had to live it. Just once, for the experience. Then, never again.

I steeled myself and took the cup from Sebastian’s offering hand.

Sebastian’s lips widened into a little grin, which I would say almost looked proud if I hadn’t known better. He raised his cup to my own, and the strong-smelling drink sloshed around in our cups as he clacked the rim of his cup against mine. Then, he tipped his head back and took a sip, and so did I.

Immediately my throat began to burn. I had never had alcohol before this, so at first I was like, oh my gods, am I allergic to beer, but I could still breathe, so I figured it must’ve just had a high alcohol content. I would learn later on in the night that I was right, but we’ll get to that in a little bit.

Sebastian snickered as he watched me cough, his ice blue eyes glittering with mirth. In my delirious coughing fit, I realized distantly that they didn’t look as cold as they had four years ago, or even the other day when I’d walked into my dorm and discovered that he was my roommate.

He stepped a little closer and gave me a firm, strong clap on the back. I felt my eyes widen as I coughed harder, and then stopped completely. I groaned softly, wiping my lips off with the back of my hand, and squinted down at Sebastian.

“How do you drink this stuff?” I asked incredulously, glancing down at the cup in the hand and turning my nose up at it.

Sebastian chuckled. “You get used to it.”

I took one more reluctant sip of my drink before gingerly setting it down on the counter, the cup still half-full, with a grimace of distaste on my face. I then watched in mild horror as Sebastian raised his own drink to his lips and chugged the whole thing in one go, draining the liquid from the cup. I tried, and failed, not to let my gaze linger on the way his throat worked around each gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing underneath his skin. And then when he finished his own drink, he reached out and grabbed mine from the counter and chugged that one, too. My heart skipped a beat or five. His mouth is touching where my mouth just touched.

“Come on, let’s dance,” he said, slamming both freshly emptied cups down on the counter like a judge with a gavel.

“Wait, what—“ I began to protest, but I was firmly cut off when he grabbed my hand. My eyes widened and my brain shorted out as he dragged me out of the kitchen, back to where the music was loudest and the room was the most packed.

I didn’t really want to be in the center of the party, surrounded by all these people, but it was either that or lose track of Sebastian and navigate this place by myself, which sounded even worse. So I sidled up to the dance floor along with him, neither of us bothering to drop the other’s hand. It was too crowded anyway; we would’ve lost each other in seconds.

Once he was satisfied with where we were, in the middle of the dance floor and surrounded by other rowdy, college-age kids, Sebastian slowed to a stop. He turned to face me and leaned in towards my ear, yelling over the music. “Maybe you could find a guy to dance with, yeah?”
I felt my face heat up. Why did I find myself wanting to dance with him?

But I didn’t know how to say that, so I just went with it instead. “Yeah, maybe. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a girl.”

Sebastian grinned softly as he pulled me a little closer and gazed down at me. He almost looked a little shy, but that didn’t seem right. Sebastian Angelini and shy? Those were two things that never went together.

“Yeah, I could…” he trailed off, nodding slightly in a way that said he was only humoring me, but didn’t actually agree with what I had said. “But I don’t know if I wanna find a girl this time.”

I could’ve sworn the rest of the world fell away. The music suddenly didn’t sound so loud, and everything in my line of sight that wasn’t Sebastian became a blur.

I swallowed hard. “But you said you wanted to dance.”

“I never said anything about a girl, James.”

My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. I felt this thrum behind my sternum, like my ribcage was going to blossom open and let my heart flutter out into Sebastian’s hands.

“So a guy, then?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“Maybe.”

I blinked up at him, stunned into silence. I’d always had a hunch that he might’ve been closeted, but I never had proof, and he never suggested or even hinted that he was queer. And never in the four years that I had known him did I ever expect him to come out to me of all people. He hated my guts. That would be absurd. Why would he trust me with that information?

Did he really just come out to me?

“Uhh…” I said dumbly. I glanced around at the people surrounding us as they danced, scanning faces, as if I would somehow find the answers to all my questions somewhere in the crowd. “Do you… have your eye on anyone specific?”

Sebastian blinked, and then he straightened up a little bit, subtly looking around at the crowd. “I dunno…” he trailed off. He searched for a few moments before he nodded his head towards a guy about ten feet from us. He had red hair, pale skin, and was covered in freckles. He wasn’t dancing with anyone in particular. It was like he was dancing, even alone, just for the sake of moving.

I followed Sebastian’s gaze, and my breath hitched in my throat as my eyes landed on the guy he had nodded to.

He looks like me.

“Yeah,” I blurted out, sounding more like a bleating lamb than an actual human. “Yeah, he’s—he’s hot. Real handsome guy. Go get him.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “You think so? Should I do it?”

I nodded a little too vigorously. “Uh-huh!” I choked. My eyes darted over to the other guy in question as he danced on, oblivious to the conversation about him happening ten feet away from him. “Yeah!”
And just like that, Sebastian was gone. I watched as he turned away from me, the sight of his back turned to me making my heart twinge. He waded through the crowd, making his way towards my doppelgänger, and I just stood there like an idiot. A pillar frozen in place, surrounded by dancing bodies, as if time had stopped the moment Sebastian walked away, but only for me.

I didn’t have much time to watch Sebastian approach the other guy before a girl who I was certain I didn’t know sidled up beside me. I felt her hand on my waist, and I realized distantly that she was talking to me, and dancing on me, pressing forward against me. But I couldn’t hear a word she said over the sound of my own heartbeat, and I barely registered the feeling of her hands, her hips.

I didn’t like girls. This was a fact of my life. One that I had known for as long as I could remember. But what more did I have to lose?

Chapter Text

When I finally stumbled through the crowd and out onto the front porch, I had no idea what time it was. Probably well after midnight. The moon was high up in the sky, perched among the stars as they twinkled faintly, all gazing down at me in disapproval. My lips tingled, my whole body still buzzing faintly with adrenaline and what little alcohol was in my system.

It didn’t take me long at all to find Sebastian. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the lawn, sitting back on his haunches, his shoulders hunched over and his hands pressed to his stomach like he was trying not to be sick. Immediately I made my way over to him, stepping over discarded bottles and a human leg attached to a passed-out twenty-something along the way.

“Seb, hey,” I said softly, carefully lowering myself to my knees beside him. I gingerly put my hand on his back, and he flinched at first, but then leaned into it as he sluggishly realized it was me beside him and not some stranger. I winced sympathetically at the sight of him. His hair was a mess, his face flushed and his skin clammy, his eyes wide and his lips parted as he panted softly, the collar of his tank top dampened with sweat. He looked terrible. “Dude, how much more did you drink? Are you gonna throw up?”

“No,” he groaned. I felt my heart twinge at the sound of his voice; hoarse, weak, and completely exhausted. “I already… did that earlier.”

“Jesus… okay, can you walk?” I asked him. He nodded, and then grimaced as if the movement made his head throb. “Okay, we’re leaving. I’m taking you home.”

With one hand on his back and the other holding his, I carefully helped Sebastian up to his feet. His knees wobbled, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, letting him lean heavily against me.

And thus, the trek back to campus began. Only now, Seb was stumbling instead of walking, so naturally, it would take us twice as long to get back as it had taken us to get to the party.

Sebastian groaned as we trudged along, sluggishly wrapping his arm around my waist. “Thank you…” he mumbled.

I glanced down at him from the corner of my eye. “For what?”

“For… not ditching me.”

I paused, and for a moment we walked in silence. Why would I do that to him? “Why do you think I would do that to you?”

“Because, I was… so… so mean to you…” he whined, and his voice pitched up at the end. He was trying not to cry—I could almost hear his voice scraping past the lump in his throat. “I was so mean, James…"

“Hey, hey, hey,” I interjected, shaking my head. I gave his shoulders a soft squeeze, a genuine attempt to reassure him. “It’s okay. That’s not you anymore.”

Sebastian went quiet at that. He sniffled and his head lolled forward for a moment before he picked it back up, and I felt something in my chest soften.

We kept walking, and my shoulders sagged with relief as the campus finally came into view. I kept my arm wrapped firmly around Sebastian’s shoulders, dutifully holding him against my side as we approached a small set of stairs, which connected to the path that led to our building. I was determined to get him back to our dorm, where the world couldn’t touch him.

“Watch your step,” I told him. I glanced down to watch his feet, making sure that he wasn’t tripping over any of the steps. He lifted his feet up dramatically with each step, like a drunk flamingo, and I couldn’t help the snicker I let out.

Sebastian whined. “Don’t laugh at me.”

I forced my expression to sober, but I could still feel the remnants of a smirk tugging at the outermost corners of my lips. “I’m sorry. Just watch your step.”

We trudged up the stairs, taking them one by one, before we came up to the path and kept walking. It was strange, how tunneled my vision was. How determined I was to get Sebastian into the comfort and safety of a bed. I held him up, guiding him to walk with me as we approached the back entrance of Kavanaugh Hall. I pulled it open and our dorm was right next to us as we stepped inside. Sebastian shivered weakly as the air inside warmed his skin in comparison to the cool breeze outside, and I gently rubbed his back with my hand between his shoulder blades while my free hand fumbled to unlock our door.

“We’re here?” Sebastian asked groggily, his eyes half-lidded and droopy as he squinted at the door in front of him.

I pushed the door open. “We’re here,” I murmured, gently ushering him into our dorm and letting the door swing shut behind us.

In his drunken daze, Sebastian must have mixed up my bed for his, because he stumbled forward and promptly collapsed onto my bed instead of his own. I sighed heavily, rubbing my hands down my face. I could feel the bags under my eyes. But Sebastian had to come first.

I stepped further into the dorm, hastily kicking off my sneakers before I stopped next to my bed. Sebastian was flat on his stomach, his face buried in my pillow, his back rising and falling evenly as he breathed. I reached out to gently grab his shoulder, carefully rolling him over onto his side. He looked so peaceful like this; eyes closed, face relaxed, eyelashes resting against his cheeks, which were still flushed a light shade of red. His eyes fluttered open just enough to look up at me.

“Stay.” His voice was so hoarse and quiet, I thought for a second that I had misheard him.

“Seb, I’m not going anywhere,” I told him gently, kneeling down beside the bed. My fingers twitched on the edge of the mattress, itching to reach out and card through his hair, to smooth it down in all the places it was sticking up. “This is my dorm, too. Remember?”

He whined again. “No, I mean… stay. Next to me. With me.”

I went silent at that. For a moment, all I could hear was his soft, heavy breathing, and the phantom sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. He was drunk. He was probably going to regret this when he sobered up. He was probably going to wake up in the morning, find me sleeping next to him, and freak out. But right now, it was what he wanted. And all I wanted was for him to feel comfortable. To feel safe.

I slowly picked myself up off the floor, sighing as my knees wobbled feebly under my weight, my body riddled with exhaustion. As I reached down and carefully pulled Sebastian’s sneakers off of his feet, letting them thud onto the floor, I distantly remembered that I had drank a little bit with him, and then with that strange girl. Was I drunk, too? Was I going to regret this in the morning?

Probably not.

I put my knee up on the edge of the bed, crawling into what little space was left beside Sebastian. This was going to be a really tight squeeze. Two grown men in a twin bed. We’d both probably wake up sore in the morning, joints cracking and popping. But right now all that mattered was that Sebastian wanted me next to him. I didn’t care how much pain I had to be in to give that to him.

I let myself lay down next to him, both of us on our sides, facing each other. For a moment, we just laid there in silence.

I broke it first. “You’re not gonna throw up on me, are you?” I whispered.

Sebastian didn’t respond at first, and I thought he might’ve already fallen asleep. “No,” he whispered back. He didn’t open his eyes, but he slowly started to press forward, as if he was chasing my body heat like a heat-seeking missile. “I’ll… try not to.” He reached his arms out, sluggishly wrapping them around me.

I froze up, my limbs locking in place. If Sebastian noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, wrapping himself around me like a koala with a tree branch. A tall, rickety, spindly tree branch.

I slowly began to melt into his embrace, my hand tentatively coming up to press gently against his back, right between his shoulder blades, holding him against me. My other hand cradled the back of his head, my fingers satiating their need to run through his hair, to press against his nape. I felt Sebastian sigh into my neck, his warm breath against my skin sending a weak shiver down my spine. I deliberately ignored the way his lips brushed against the curve of my shoulder in something that felt almost suspiciously like a kiss.

I gently patted his back to get his attention. “Go to sleep, Sebastian.” I tried to be stern, but my voice wavered halfway through.

He grumbled, his fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, as if he was trying to pull me closer through sheer willpower. But there was already no space between us. We were chest-to-chest. I could feel his heart beating against my own.

“You smell good,” he mumbled intelligently.

I couldn’t help the quiet snicker I let out, more out of shock than actual amusement. “Do I? What do I smell like?”

Sebastian pressed forward against me, burying his face deeper into the space where my shoulder met my neck, as if he was trying to physically crawl into me. He inhaled deeply. “Like… like flowers. And leather. And… man.”

“Man,” I echoed dazedly. My heart was fluttering so wildly in my chest now that I was surprised Sebastian couldn’t feel it.

“Yeah. Like… you. Just you…” he continued, murmuring into my neck, his lips brushing against my skin.

He paused, suddenly pulling back just far enough to meet my gaze with his own, peering at me through the dark. The only light in the room came from a dim, blue nightlight plugged into the wall next to my desk, casting shadows over his face, which was etched with solemnity.

“Do you still think my eyes are pretty?” He asked me. Dead serious, like he’d die if he didn’t get an answer right this second. Like he was itching to know every thought that went through my head.

I felt my face heat up, and I was certain there was an incriminating shade of red coloring my cheeks. One that if Sebastian saw, he thankfully neglected to point out. I swallowed thickly, my widened eyes darting back and forth between Sebastian’s. For a few moments, we just laid there; facing each other, hands still clutching onto one another like neither of us could bear to lose that contact. When I whispered, it came out hoarse, hushed like I was telling him a secret.

“Yeah… yes. I do.”

“Say it,” he told me without missing even a single beat. His eyes were wide, his gaze locked with mine, like he was hanging onto every word that left my mouth.

I only hesitated for a short moment this time. “Your eyes are pretty.”

Sebastian stared at me. As the silence stretched out, I felt my heart begin to race even more than it already was, panic and regret setting in. Fuck, why did I do that?

But before I could open my mouth and take it back, Sebastian’s lips widened into a big, loopy grin, and he leaned forward without a word, burying his face in the crook of my neck once again.

He whispered against my skin. “Good.”

Silence fell between us, and I did something I never thought I would have the luxury of doing. I fell asleep in someone’s arms.

—————————————

The first thing I felt when I woke up was warmth. Surrounding me on all sides, wrapped around me, in the form of a leg thrown over my hip. A face buried in my chest. Arms wrapped around around my waist. I felt soft curls brushing against my jaw and my neck, fingers weakly curled around the fabric of my shirt over my back, even in sleep.

I pulled back a couple of inches, just enough to look down at him. Sebastian.

He was still sound asleep. Eyelashes resting delicately against his cheeks, his jaw slack and lips slightly parted, soft breaths and snores puffing against my skin. Something in my chest unfurled at the sight of him. I couldn’t let myself get used to this—to waking up next to him like this. But in the moment, I didn’t care. I was perfectly content to just stay there, wrapped up in him, soaking in the warmth of his body heat and the late morning sunlight streaming gently through the blinds. I felt like a lizard on a warm rock. I didn’t want to move.

It was a good thing it was a Sunday and neither of us had any classes to get to, because with how lazy I felt and how hungover I knew Seb would be, I knew we wouldn’t have made it.

I just let myself lay there. I was beginning to feel a bit of a twinge in the shoulder I was laying on, with my arm folded awkwardly under Sebastian’s body and a kink in my neck, but I ignored it all for the sake of letting Sebastian sleep. Gods knew he needed it.

It felt like I laid there for a lifetime before Sebastian finally began to stir. He breathed in deeply and slowly wriggled closer to me, seeking out my body heat before he was even conscious enough to know what it was, or who it was coming from. Or maybe he did know. I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. I let him do it anyway.

“You up?” I whispered, my hand carefully rubbing up and down his back in an attempt to rouse him.

He groaned softly into my neck, mumbling something incoherent, and wrapped his arms tighter around my waist. Clingy much.

That only lasted a few moments further before Sebastian apparently came back to the land of the living and fully regained consciousness. He suddenly pulled back, eyes wide, and rolled the two of us over with all the urgency of a man recalling every dumb thing he’d done the night before while drunk out of his mind. I ended up flat on my back with Sebastian on top of me, knees bracketing my hips, straddling me. His hands were gripping my shoulders tight, and I froze up, staring up at him in wide-eyed shock.

That was hot.

Wait. What?

“I kissed a guy,” Sebastian recalled out loud, eyes wide, chest heaving faintly.

“You did?” I asked, breathless. I was still trying to recover from having the wind knocked out of me. “How was it?”

“I dunno…” he said, brows furrowing in thought. “It was… nice.”

I hummed. “Cool.”

“What about you?” Sebastian asked me, poking his pointer finger into my sternum.

My heart jumped. “What about me?”

“Did you kiss any guys?”

“No.” I swallowed thickly. My voice was hoarse. “I kissed a girl, though.”

“Oh, wow,” Sebastian breathed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “How was it?”

“Weird. I’m probably never gonna do it again.”

We both fell silent. For a long moment, we just stared at each other, Sebastian hovering over me. If he was still drunk, he might’ve leaned down and kissed me. Or something. But instead, he rolled over off of me and sat up on the edge of my bed. I just laid there for a second, trying to let my brain catch up to what had just happened and figure out why my heart was racing, before I slowly sat up and scooted up next to Sebastian.

“You feeling okay?” I asked him quietly.

He hesitated for a moment, face thoughtful like he was cataloguing every ache in his limbs and every throb of his head. “Yeah,” he murmured eventually. “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I said, gently shaking my head. “That doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

Sebastian averted his gaze from mine, tilting his head down and staring down at the patch of carpet between his feet instead. Even from this angle, I could see a faint shade of red coloring his cheeks. Whether it was from embarrassment, the lingering effects of the alcohol in his system, or something else entirely, I don’t know. His voice was small and hushed, unsteady on every other syllable. “I’m okay, James, I promise. My head just hurts a little is all.”

“Okay,” I said softly. I gestured vaguely towards the bathroom door, trying to keep my voice as quiet and gentle as possible, so as to avoid aggravating his headache even more. “Why don’t you go take a shower and… y’know, clean up, and I’ll get you set up in your bed with some water and tylenol?”

Sebastian’s demeanor almost seemed to soften. He slowly lifted his head up again to look over at me, eyes round and glassy like a hound’s, his hair sticking up this way and that. I’d almost think it was endearing if I didn’t know better than to let myself think those things.

“You’d do that?” He asked me, voice hushed and hopeful.

I simply nodded. That was a no-brainer. “Of course I would.”

While Sebastian gathered up a fresh change of clothes and made his way into our en suite bathroom, I made my way over to his bed, where his pillow and his blankets were strewn haphazardly across the bare mattress. I picked everything up off the mattress and dropped it onto the floor, before I knelt down and reached under my bed. I snagged an extra set of sheets out of one of my duffel bags; he had neglected to bring his own sheets, but when I had offered my extra set to him in passing the other night, he declined.

I wasn’t going to let him sleep on a bare mattress anymore whether he liked it or not.

I fitted the sheets around his mattress, the fabric a worn and faded shade of light blue, and then got to work making the rest of his bed while the steady sound of the shower running filled the silence. I put his pillow at the head of his bed, and then draped his blankets over the sheets, running my hands over them to smooth out the soft fabric.

I knew I had an unopened water bottle in my backpack that I’d picked up from a vending machine in Rosenthal Hall. It wasn’t cold by any means, but it was better than nothing. I set it on Sebastian’s nightstand, along with a small bottle of tylenol. It was only a few more minutes before Sebastian came out of the bathroom.

His damp hair clung to his forehead and the nape of his neck in messy curls, with baggy sweatpants and a loose t-shirt swallowing his frame. He took in the scene in front of him—his bed made, water and tylenol set where he could easily reach them from bed, me perched patiently on the edge of my own bed—and he sighed with relief. He ambled up to his bed, limbs loose and eyelids heavy, and peeled back the blankets just enough to crawl underneath them.

He laid on his side, his tired eyes fixed on me as he pulled his blankets up around his waist. “Thanks, James,” he mumbled.

I hummed softly in return. “You’re welcome.”

It didn’t take long for Sebastian to fall asleep. His eyes slowly started to fall shut, eyelids fluttering like they were protesting the darkness creeping into the corners of his vision, before unconsciousness finally claimed him. For a moment, I just let myself look at him. I could’ve looked at him forever and never gotten bored of his beautiful face. It was like I kept discovering new little things about him that I’d never noticed before—his skin was perfectly clear, but he had a faint, almost invisible dusting of freckles on his cheeks, right below his eyes. He had a little birthmark on the side of his neck, just under the corner of his jaw, a speck of brown against sun-kissed bronze. And that little scar above his right eyebrow was still there, white and jagged.

Eventually I managed to tear my gaze away from him, but only because the quiet sound of my phone startled me out of my thoughts. I reached over to grab it and glanced down at the screen.

It was Hazel. She was the first to send a message in our text thread, and she was inviting me over to her dorm to hang out with her, her girlfriend/roommate, and Mason. Movie day, she said.

I wanted to go, but something pulled in my chest at the thought of Sebastian waking up alone. But that was stupid. I could just leave him a note telling him where I went. And he had my phone number.

But what if he threw up in his sleep and choked and died?

He was on his side. He’d be fine. But I’d try not to be gone too long just in case. Maybe just one movie.

I took a quick shower and put on fresh clothes; plaid pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt, since all we’d be doing was watching movies. I slipped my sneakers on, tore a small strip of paper out of my journal to jot down a note for Sebastian, and then grabbed my phone before I left the dorm. Hazel’s dorm was apparently in the same building as mine, but on the third floor. It was a short elevator ride up, and then her dorm was right around the corner.

I reached up and knocked on the door. It only took about three seconds for someone to answer it, and I found a pair of green eyes staring into my own.

“Hey, Mason,” I said lightly.

He stepped aside to let me in. “Hey, James.”

I only made it about two steps in before the smell of pumpkin and vanilla wafted into my face. There was a candle burning on one of the nightstands. Mason closed the door behind me as I took in the scene in front of me—Hazel and who I assumed was her girlfriend sitting on the floor. The girl next to Hazel was tall and lithe, with olive skin and long, flowing black curls. They were surrounded by an abundance of blankets and pillows, with a beanbag against the wall and a projector. On the opposite wall, there was a large, rectangular image projected onto the drywall, a freeze frame of the beginning of Batman: Under the Red Hood.

“James!” Came Hazel’s jubilant voice. She beamed up at me, waving me and Mason over to sit with them. She gestured to the girl sitting next to her, who was smiling up at me a little awkwardly. “This is my girlfriend, Yara.”

Yara waved, her eyes brown and glittering. “Hey.”

“Hi. I’m, uh… I’m James,” I said.

Hazel waited until I took a seat next to her on the floor and Mason took his seat on the beanbag before she hit play on the remote. The movie started up, the opening credits rolling. Hazel pulled a big bag of beef jerky seemingly out of nowhere and wordlessly held it out to me. I pulled out a piece, biting into it while Mason noisily tore open a party-sized bag of potato chips and shared it with Yara.

Snacks got passed around. At one point, Mason left and returned a few minutes later with cold sodas for everyone. I offered to pay him back for the root beer he got me, but he declined.

“It’s on me,” he said, smiling faintly. “You can pay for mine next time.”

My heart warmed at that. Next time. I was really enjoying this. I was really hoping there would be a next time.

After Batman ended and the credits rolled, I was having so much fun that I forgot I had promised myself to go back to my dorm after only one movie. Hazel asked us what movie we all wanted to watch next.

Hazel herself wanted to watch The Truman Show. Yara wanted The Karate Kid, and Mason wanted Brokeback Mountain.

“Mason, we’re not watching Brokeback Mountain unless you’ll let me wipe my tears on your shirt,” Hazel said sarcastically.

“It’s a good movie!” He urged. “Come on!”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad movie, I’m just saying it’s sad and I don’t wanna watch Ennis be sad about Jack—“

“But you wanna watch a man’s life be turned into a spectacle without his consent? Hazel, it’s a good movie—“

Yara turned her head and looked over at me. We exchanged a knowing look, faint smirks lingering on our faces as Hazel and Mason bickered.

Yara spoke up suddenly, raising her voice above Hazel’s and Mason’s, effectively silencing them. “Why don’t we let James pick?”

All eyes turned to watch me.

I chuckled nervously, glancing around at all of them. “Uh…”

Mason was glaring daggers at me. He slowly pointed a finger at the half-emptied root beer in my lap, eyes wide, silently mouthing “you owe me”.

Hazel, on the other hand, clasped her hands together and openly begged. “James, please pick The Truman Show—”

I cleared my throat. “Um, why don’t we just watch both?” I suggested obviously.

Hazel and Mason exchanged a glance.

“Which one first?” Mason asked me.

“Um…” I took a moment to think. “Brokeback Mountain, and then The Truman Show.”

Mason grinned widely, biting down on the tip of his pointer finger and giggling in Hazel’s face. She rolled her eyes at him while she fidgeted with the remote, putting Brokeback Mountain up on the projector.

Just as promised, Hazel sobbed when Ennis found out Jack had died. Yara rubbed Hazel’s back, smiling softly, but then promptly joined her girlfriend’s crying when Ennis hugged Jack’s jacket.

I had seen Brokeback Mountain before, but somehow it felt a little different this time. I saw myself in Jack; wanting someone I couldn’t have, because the one I wanted wasn’t ready to accept himself. For twenty whole years, Jack could only be with Ennis in secret, while Ennis shrugged him off and pushed him away. And in the end they didn’t even get to be together. Because Jack had been killed, and Ennis spent the rest of his life in regret. Would I end up like that one day?

Just the thought of it made my eyes sting.

Then The Truman Show was on. The snacks were slowly dwindling, but we laughed and chatted quietly and enjoyed each other’s company anyway. When The Truman Show ended, I finally managed to force myself up to my feet, as much as I didn’t want to leave.

“You’re leaving?” Hazel asked, looking up over her shoulder at me. Yara and Mason then turned to look up at me as well.

“Yeah, I have to, um… it’s my roommate, he’s kinda sick,” I explained sheepishly.

“Your roommate?” Hazel asked, brow furrowing. “So? Isn’t he just some guy?”

“No, no, I know him,” I said. “We met in our first year of high school.”

“Oh,” Hazel said, expression relaxing again. “So you guys are close, then?”

“Well… we didn’t used to be, but… yeah.”

“You’re taking care of him?” Yara butted in. A small smile tugged at her lips, as if she could see right through me. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“Yara!” Hazel hissed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Yara giggled. She waved a hand at me dismissively. “Sorry, James.”

My cheeks warmed so much, it felt like my head was going to explode. I silently prayed I didn’t look as flustered as I felt. He wasn’t my boyfriend, but I found myself wishing that he was.

“N-no, it’s fine,” I giggled nervously. I sidestepped towards the door. “Um. I’ll see you later! Bye, guys.”

As I reached out for the doorknob, the room erupted into a chorus of bye’s and see you later’s that I didn’t really hear. I slipped out of the dorm and quietly shut the door behind me, my shoulders immediately sagging as the voices inside became dampened. I just stood right outside the door for a moment, hand clutching my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. Because how did Yara catch onto my feelings that quickly? I’d just met her today, and I already felt like a bug pinned to a board, every piece of me and every thought that went through my head on display.

I shook those thoughts out of my head and forced myself to take the few steps over to the elevator. I stepped inside and numbly pressed the button for the first floor, and the doors slid closed before me. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check if Sebastian had sent any texts or tried calling, but there was nothing from him. It’d been hours, surely he was awake by now.

When I got to our dorm and quietly opened the door just enough to slip through it, I found Sebastian still dead asleep. He’d rolled over onto his stomach now, so all I could see of him was a head of messy brown curls and the slope of his back as it rose and fell gently under the blankets.

It was around mid-afternoon now, and I found myself getting a little tired, too. Our dorm was dimly lit by faint sunlight streaming in through the half-closed blinds, and the lack of light in the room made my eyelids droop. I strolled up to my bed, sluggishly crawling onto the mattress and burrowing into the blankets. All I could hear was the quiet sound of my own breathing, mixed with the soft, muffled snores coming from Sebastian’s side of the room. It was peaceful. I felt my breath even out and let sleep pull me in.