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“You can’t hand this in,” Kevin said, dropping the stack of papers onto the table in front of Andrew, “You’ll fail.”
Andrew, who was never amused by Kevin’s penchant for dramatics, looked up at Kevin over the wire rim of his round-glasses with an unimpressed stare and asked, “Why?”
“Because you literally didn’t cite any of your sources,” Kevin started with annoyance, which was never a good sign, because once he started there was truly no stopping him, “There is an entire opinionated paragraph where you just call congress “old white racist fish entrails.” Your professor is going to take one look at this and fail you.”
“Your point?” Andrew retorted. He had learned rather quickly that the best way to deal with Kevin Day, an apparent academic god and all around uncivilized asshole, was to challenge every single word out of his mouth until he eventually became so frustrated with the confrontation that he gave up. Unfortunately for Andrew, Kevin found the entire process of pestering him to be a fulfilling task. With mixed results.
“My point,” Kevin emphasized, “Is that you need to rewrite this entire essay or you will fail.”
Andrew took the stack of papers from the table and looked over the apparent failure of an essay with a bored expression before slapping it back down onto the table top.
Andrew knew it was a shit essay, he also knew that he had never planned to hand it in to the professor in the first place. Kevin insisted on editing and revising everything Andrew wrote, which led to Andrew giving him fake essays and articles to keep him preoccupied while he wrote the real paper and handed it in without it ever reaching Kevin’s hands.
Kevin’s idea of editing was adding far too much jargon and superfluous language until it was practically unreadable. Andrew didn’t write for snobby people who held far too much merit in big words and fanciful language. He wrote for regular people who preferred straight forward facts and truths. His journalism professors loved it, his creative writing professors did not.
“I rewrote it,” Andrew decided to say, “And I handed it in already.”
Kevin looked appalled for a second before he said, “You didn’t let me read it first?”
“I never let you read it first,” Andrew replied tersely, “You’re far too picky for your own good.”
Kevin glowered at him. Andrew shrugged.
“You really don’t care how you do in your classes do you?” Kevin asked, looking exasperated and disappointed, “I don’t know why I bother.”
“You’re the one with the hard on for academia,” Andrew replied, “This is simply a means to an end.”
“What’s the end goal then?” Kevin asked, leaning onto the table with his elbows, his green eyes shining bright with curiosity, “What do you want to accomplish?”
Andrew didn’t have to think too much about it. There wasn’t anything he really wanted. He had learned from a very young age that wanting only left you disappointed. If he expected nothing to happen then he would be pleasantly surprised when something did. There was no way someone like Kevin Day would understand that, he had been handed everything he ever wanted and still managed to come out disappointed and pointedly unsatisfied with life.
Kevin had been given a full scholarship to Yale to study History and he had turned it down in favor of attending Palmetto State, where his father coached the unimpressive lacrosse team. Andrew wondered if he did it for the dramatics or to spite his world class paleontologist mother. Either way, Kevin would never understand Andrew’s desire to have absolutely nothing.
“I’ll tell you what my current goal is,” Andrew said, which piqued Kevin’s interest and made him lean ever slightly forward on the table. Andrew lifted one finger and pointed it in the direction of the exit, “To get you to get up and leave so I can finish editing this fifteen page paper without having to hear the sound of your voice.”
Kevin’s face fell and he sat back in a huff. “Fine,” He grumbled, throwing his arms up like a child having a tantrum, “I give up.” He stood from the chair and pushed it back in with too much force, knocking the chair into the table and causing a brilliantly loud pang of noise that bounced around the mostly quiet library. A student sitting a few tables away sent them both a dirty glare. Kevin didn’t look apologetic, but he often didn’t.
“Do you want to go to the bar tonight?” Kevin asked.
“No,” Andrew replied immediately, because he always said no, “Now leave before you get me kicked out.”
“Fine,” Kevin replied, he clutched the strap of his messenger bag, turned on his heel and began to finally walk away, but not before looking over his shoulder and saying, “I just want you to be successful.”
Andrew watched him disappear behind shelves of books and head for the exit.
Wanting.
What a childish feeling.
*
Andrew’s class schedule wasn’t exactly exciting, nor was his social life. On Mondays and Wednesdays he had his obligatory Math class with a professor that was old enough to be his great grandmother, English II with a woman that took everything far too seriously, and World Religion with a teacher that liked to say fuck every other word and was pointedly and unapologetically atheist. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Andrew had his Introduction to Investigative Journalism class with an older man that wore thin framed glasses and always smelled like strong coffee and tobacco, and his least favorite class which was Creative Writing 101 with a young absentminded professor that never wore matching clothing and always came to class late.
His social life consisted of Kevin randomly showing up at the library or his dorm to bother him whenever he felt like it and his weekly lunch meetings with Renee. He talked to Aaron through scattered and inconsistent text messages and he only answered Nicky’s skype calls when he was absolutely sure he had an excuse to hang up after about thirty minutes.
It was nice, for the most part, Andrew had no issue with the way things were going and he made absolutely no attempt to change anything.
He lived in a dorm suite with a roommate that he had never met before. A roommate that he considered to be cryptid because whenever Andrew was in the dorm his roommate’s door was suspiciously closed and the suite was entirely empty. There was nothing in the dorm that Andrew hadn’t brought along with him, which meant that his so-called roommate either sheltered his belongings in his room or didn’t own anything.
Renee joked that maybe his roommate didn’t exist at all. Andrew had begun to believe her when the first post-it note appeared on the mini fridge in their dorm suite, a note that said Do you like beer? y/n
Andrew had stared at the scraggly handwriting for twenty minutes before circling the n and writing I prefer whisky.
He hadn’t thought much about it until the next day when he came back from his classes to find a bottle of cheap whisky with a post-it attached that said repayment for breaking the coffeepot.
Andrew had pulled the note off, went to the coffee pot and saw that his cryptid roommate had in fact broken the pot into several pieces and hadn’t bothered to clean it or replace it. Most days Andrew found himself getting coffee at the campus cafe anyway, so it wasn’t like he used the coffee maker much anymore.
Andrew scowled at the mess before grabbing his own post-it note, writing why the fuck didn’t you just replace it? and sticking it directly over the coffee pot.
When he came back the day after that he found yet another post-it note that said, I forgot. Luckily the pot had been replaced and Andrew didn’t have to worry about it too much. That was until the following week when the coffee pot was pointedly missing from the coffee maker and there was a post-it that said, oops.
Andrew let out an annoyed huff of air and wrote his own back. A simple You are no longer allowed to make coffee. He hoped that his strangely anti-social roommate would get the fucking point but apparently he didn’t. The next day there was not one but two notes right next to each other that said, Then how will I make coffee? the other post-it note was just a giant sad face.
At that point Andrew decided he liked it better when he thought his roommate didn’t exist in the first place.
He threw out the entire coffee maker, it was a hand me down from Nicky that Andrew wanted to replace anyway, and ended up buying a cheaper version of a Keurig. He was sure that without a pot present his roommate couldn’t possibly manage to break it, and he left a note that said if you manage to fuck this one up. I will break your face.
Just to be safe he left the user manual in the open for the cryptid roommate to read.
When he woke up at around 8 am the next day there was a note in place of his own that had a drawing of a shocked face with a simple thanks next to it. Andrew crumbled it up and threw it away.
He told Renee about the strange interaction at their weekly lunch date and she laughed, her sweet soft laugh and said, “Well isn’t that surprising. He actually exists. If we had been placing bets I think I would have lost that one.”
“You and me both,” Andrew said.
For the next week he went without any surprise post-it notes and he spent most of his time in the library, attempting to piece together his latest project for Intro to Investigative Journalism. It was going surprisingly well until Kevin decided to show up. He fell into the chair across from Andrew like a sack of potatoes and looked at him through his shaggy black hair and said, “I need a new roommate next year.”
Andrew wasn’t impressed and really didn’t care, but asked, “Why?” Anyway.
“Because,” Kevin started, “My current roommate is an asshole and has way too many people over and it’s very distracting when I’m trying to get work done. Do you think we can dorm together next year?” Kevin looked a particular type of pathetic that Andrew didn’t find endearing or convincing.
“No,” Andrew replied.
“Why?” Kevin asked, “Do you already have someone you want to dorm with?”
Andrew considered keeping his absentee roommate for another year and thought that he liked the option very much, even with the broken coffee pots and strange post-it notes.
“Yes,” He replied, “My current roommate.”
“Really?” Kevin asked, surprised, “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“It means I don’t know, Kevin. Have you always been this stupid?”
“You’ve been rooming with this person for an entire semester and you have no idea what his name is?”
Kevin had a point.
“I’ve never met him,” Andrew replied.
“Wait how?” Kevin asked, “How is that possible?”
Andrew only shrugged. He didn’t have a good answer for that. It was pretty nonsensical to have never met his roommate before, but Andrew wasn’t complaining.
“Do you even know what his major is?”
“Kevin,” Andrew said, lifting a pen and pointing it at Kevin’s face, “I just said I don’t know his name. I also said that I have never met him before. What makes you think that I would know his major?”
Kevin opened his mouth and closed it several times before saying, “Fuck, you’re right.”
“I’m always right. Now go away,” Andrew said, “I have to finish this article.”
“What do I do about my roommate situation?” Kevin asked, exasperated.
“Kill him,” Andrew replied seriously.
Kevin groaned and stood from the table. “Fine,” He conceded, “I’ll go ask Jeremy for advice.”
“You do that,” Andrew said with boredom.
Kevin flipped him off and walked away.
*
On Wednesday Andrew put a note on the mini fridge that said room together next year y/n?
On Thursday there was no reply but the note was pointedly gone.
On Friday there was a note that said sure.
Andrew ripped it off the mini fridge and threw it away.
*
“Do you want to come to the bar this weekend?” Kevin asked. They were currently sitting on the outdoor bleachers, watching Kevin’s father coach the abismal lacrosse team. Andrew was smoking and Kevin was bouncing a small lacrosse ball back and forth from the bench below him.
“Why would I go to the bar with you?” Andrew asked, he took a long drag and blew it in Kevin’s face to piss him off. Kevin didn’t react.
“Because,” Kevin replied, “If you aren’t in class you’re working in the library, if you aren’t at the library you’re sitting alone in your dorm with your missing-in-action roommate. I bet you could use a drink or two.”
“I have alcohol in my dorm room,” Andrew replied, “And my so-called missing-in-action roommate is all the company I need.”
“That’s just depressing,” Kevin said. Andrew scowled at him. He reached out and grabbed the lacrosse ball mid air before throwing it down to the field below them.
“That was rude,” Kevin complained. He leaned back and placed his head on the bench behind them. Kevin was tall enough to stretch across three steps without straining himself. Andrew rolled his eyes at him.
“I don’t care,” Andrew replied, “I’m not going to the bar with you.”
“You should,” Kevin said, “You might actually have a good time.”
Andrew furrowed his eyebrows and gave Kevin an unimpressed look. Kevin let out a sigh and said, “Right. There is no way that you could have a good time doing anything.”
Andrew stood from the bench and flicked his cigarette somewhere to the right, not bothering to look where it landed.
“Fine,” Andrew said, “Since you asked so nicely.”
Kevin shot up from the bench and looked at Andrew with surprise.
“Serious?”
“Don’t make me change my mind, Day,” Andrew replied before walking away.
*
Apparently everyone in Andrew’s life wanted to be mildly inconvenient lately. He got back to his dorm on Thursday night to find a note from his cryptid roommate that said, Do you have an extra course catalog? I lost mine.
Andrew scowled at the note, picked it up, crumbled it and threw it away. He debated not answering at all but decided to leave a note that said, It is literally online.
The next morning there was a note that said, really?????? Andrew rolled his eyes, left a note with the web URL, and then left the dorm.
When he got back there was another bottle of whisky on the counter with a note that just had a smiley face on it. Andrew took both the whisky and the note and went into his room.
He didn’t throw away the post-it this time.
*
On Friday, Andrew went with Kevin to the bar that wasn’t far off campus. It was the one that all of the students congregated to on the weekends. It was over packed, had shitty cheap alcohol, and was clearly decorated with the university in mind. There was far too much orange on the walls for it to be appealing.
Kevin’s so called drinking-buddies, Kevin had insisted that they weren’t friends because they only got along when all of them were supremely slouched, were already at the bar and several drinks in when they arrived. Andrew was surprised to see that Renee was in attendance, looking out of place in the run-down dive bar. She smiled sweetly at him and when he approached and pulled out the empty chair beside her as an offering.
Andrew didn’t sit. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and went straight to the bar as Kevin went about making niceties with his so called not-friends.
The bar was packed but Andrew didn’t mind much. It reminded him of the many nights that he had spent working at Eden’s when he was living with Nicky. He was so stuck in his own memories of Eden’s that he half expected to see Roland standing behind the bar with his usual easy grin on his face, instead he came face to face with a short red-haired, freckled faced boy.
Andrew leaned against the counter and watched him pour a beer and hand it off to some thoroughly drunk college student, before he turned and looked at Andrew expectantly.
“Can I get you something?” He asked.
“Whiskey,” Andrew said, “Neat.”
The boy nodded and went about pulling the drink together. He placed the glass on a pristine white napkin in front of Andrew and watched him expectantly.
Andrew lifted the glass to his lips, stopped, and then lowered it back to the counter.
“What?” Andrew asked, annoyed that the boy was still staring at him.
“Nothing,” He replied quickly, looking embarrassed, “I just - never seen you around here before.”
“Do you remember every customer that comes in here?”
The boy looked even more embarrassed at that. His cheeks were starting to turn a color that was just one shade lighter than his hair.
“Well no,” the boy said, “But I would remember you.”
Andrew didn’t have anything to say to that. He drank the entirety of his glass and then lowered it back to the counter. The red-haired boy didn’t hesitate to refill it for him.
“Anything else?” the boy asked.
Andrew let his eyes wander for just a moment. Blue eyes, pronounced cheekbones, full lips, a lean form that was tucked into a tight black collared shirt. Andrew would be lying if he said he wasn’t immediately interested.
“No,” Andrew finally said.
“Too bad,” The bartender said, smirking.
Andrew turned on his heel and left before he did something dangerous.
*
On Sunday there was a note on the fridge that said, would you care if I put some stuff on the walls?
Andrew took the note and replaced it with his own.
no.
By Tuesday there was a large graffiti covered poster on the wall. Andrew tilted his head one way and then the other but didn’t understand what he was supposed to be seeing.
*
“Did you have fun on Friday?” Renee asked on Wednesday at their weekly lunch meeting. Andrew shrugged.
“I was surprised you came,” Renee admitted, “Kevin said you always say no when he asks. What changed your mind?”
“I thought if I said yes he would stop asking,” Andrew replied.
Renee hummed and stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork. “Did it work?”
“Of course not.”
Renee only smiled at him.
*
Fridays at the bar became a regular routine that Andrew couldn’t find a way to get out of.
The group of Kevin’s so called drinking-buddies-definitely-not-friends were all friends with each other and included Kevin in said demographic. Andrew didn’t know why Kevin ignored their obvious invitation of friendship and he didn’t really care enough to ask him.
The group consisted of Dan Wilds who was studying sports management, Matt Boyd who turned out to work at the bar and attended Palmetto part time, Allison Reynolds who didn’t even go to school at Palmetto but took the trip down from her college a few towns over to join them every friday, and Seth Gordon who didn’t attend college at all but shared an off campus apartment with Matt and Dan.
They were an odd group of individuals who didn’t seem to get along with each other unless they were two drinks in, but decided to stick together when sober anyway. Andrew didn’t intend to take any part in their supposed friendship. He was there to drink and watch Kevin make a fool of himself. There was the added bonus that Renee would keep him company when the others were too drunk to hold a conversation.
There was also the red-headed bartender.
It shouldn’t have been anything really, Andrew had looked at him more than once and thought that it would be nice to wrap a firm hand around his throat and squeeze just enough to hear the noise he would make. That should have been the end of it. A once in a while thought that didn’t ever lead to anything.
Too bad the bartender tended to look at Andrew the exact way that Andrew knew he was looking at him. Hungry and definitely, definitely interested.
Whenever Andrew made it over to the bar the red-head would have his drink ready and waiting for him. He would smirk knowingly, tease lightely, flirt when he thought he could get away with it, and then tend to other customers while Andrew watched.
It was a waste of time really but Andrew thought that it was a bit more interesting than listening to Kevin’s raggedy gang of alcoholics bicker and make bets about anything under the sun.
The red head would sometimes smile in just the right way and stand under the lights of the bar in just the right spot and Andrew would feel an uncomfortable pounding in his chest that made him want to smash his fist into the underside of the bar.
Andrew didn’t want to want anything but sometimes he thought he just might when the red-haired bartender would brush a stray curl of hair behind his freckled ears.
Stupid.
Andrew had never claimed to be smart or very good at self preservation.
He couldn’t stop himself from holding up a pack of cigarettes in offering and following the stupidly attractive, red-haired, bartender out the back door and to the open parking lot behind the bar.
He lit two and handed one off.
“Why do you come here with your friends if you barely talk to them?” The red-head asked.
Andrew gave him a quizzical look, encouraging him to continue.
“I mean,” the red-head turned to face Andrew and leaned one shoulder against the brick wall, “You’re here every Friday. You look bored out of your mind. You barely talk to the people you come here with and when you leave you all leave separately. Why bother?”
“You’re watching me?” Andrew asked.
The red-head looked surprised for all of a second before he gave Andrew a lazy smirk that sent a warm curl of something through Andrew’s stomach.
“Maybe,” He replied, “You’re more interesting than staring at the wall.”
“Good to hear.”
“But really,” the red-head tried again, “Why come here at all?”
“To pass the time,” Andrew replied, “Better than drinking alone.”
The boy hummed and looked up to the sky as if he was seeing something that Andrew couldn’t see. They didn’t say much else after that. The red-haired stranger leaned on the wall and let his cigarette burn out into nothing without ever taking a drag. Andrew finished his own and flicked it off into the middle of the parking lot.
It was better than smoking alone.
*
Andrew came home from class on a Tuesday to find more posters on the wall of the living room suite.
One was a tragically-dark graffiti covered monstrosity that was slick and shiny under the dorm room lights. Andrew starred at it for far too long, hoping to make out what the odd geometric shapes were trying to convey. After about five minutes of mindless glaring, he felt no closer to understanding what he was seeing.
The other was a poster that Andrew recognized from the mandatory art class he took in High School. A pipe with the words Ceci n’est pas une pipe written below. The overenthusiastic art teacher from Columbia High had tried to explain it to the class, using terms like surrealism and thought-provoking. Andrew thought it just looked like a pipe.
He glared at both of the posters before moving on and heading for his bedroom. Maybe his cryptid roommate was an art major. Probably one with a strange sense of humor.
*
Andrew was half way through a skype call with Nicky when the door to his suite flew open and slammed against the wall. He heard a faint voice say fuck before the door slammed shut again.
“What’s that noise?” Nicky asked, he leaned forward towards his camera as if he could step through the screen and land right in Andrew’s dorm room.
“Probably my roommate,” Andrew replied under his breath.
In the entire semester and a half that he had been living in this dorm room he had never heard his roommate make any sort of noise before. This was a further piece of evidence that proved that his roommate did in fact exist and that he was a clumsy idiot.
More shuffling noises flooded through the crack under his door. Andrew was almost interested enough to get up and walk in on whatever chaos his roommate was causing, but he kept himself still, only staring at the door in vague interest.
“Hey!” Nicky nearly yelled, catching Andrew’s attention. Andrew turned to look at his laptop, only to see that Nicky’s eyes were glinting with curiosity and interest.
“What’s up with you?” Nicky asked, once he was sure he had Andrew’s attention, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Andrew schooled his expression back to its usual practiced neutrality and shrugged.
“Nothing,” He said.
A loud bang of the suite door slamming closed once again filled the dorm. Andrew looked back toward the door and wondered if he should have gone out and said something.
“Okay,” Nicky sang out, “Whatever you say.”
Andrew rolled his eyes.
“You were talking about work,” Andrew started, knowing that he could hook Nicky into one of his tangents and save Andrew from having to answer any unnecessary questions.
“Right!” Nicky began, “So this bitch Kathy-”
Andrew lost the conversation as soon as it started, his mind far too wrapped around the thought that his cryptid roommate had just been less than 10 feet away.
*
On Monday night there was a post-it note on the fridge.
It was a drawing of an apologetic looking, curly haired, cartoon face, a word bubble coming out of its mouth that said, sorry for making a ruckus yesterday with a heart beside it.
Andrew picked up the post-it and gave it a closer look. The handwriting was decidedly better than the other notes that his roommate had left behind. He wondered if his roommate had taken more time and care to write this message in comparison to the other, hastily scratched notes.
Without thinking too much about it, Andrew took the note to his room and tacked it to the wall over his desk with a few of the others he had collected.
He didn’t leave a note back.
*
The counseling center at Palmetto was full of friendly faces and bright-eyed counselors. Andrew walked in for his weekly meeting with Bee, the therapist/counselor of his choice, and ignored the eager looking receptionist in favor of walking straight back to her office.
Bee was expecting him, since it was their weekly scheduled appointment, but he was a few minutes early. As soon as he walked in he caught sight of Bee cleaning off her shelves of glass figurines in careful figure eights. He waited at the door silently until she finished rearranging the figures in a way that settled her OCD.
She stepped back and looked them over and hummed in appreciation before turning back toward her desk. She caught sight of Andrew almost immediately, her lips turning up in an easy smile.
“Andrew,” Bee said in a way of greeting, “Good to see you. Come, sit.”
She gestured toward the soft cushioned chair in front of her desk. Andrew walked across the room and sat down, watching Bee put away her cloth rag before sitting down at her desk.
As soon as she was settled she gave Andrew a warm smile and asked, “How are you? Do you want some hot chocolate? I have a new flavor you might enjoy.”
Andrew nodded. Bee went about getting the hot chocolate ready behind her desk. Andrew looked around the office as he always did and studied the figurines on the shelves. A new figurine sat in front of the rest, a tall giraffe with its head leaning back, facing towards the shelf above it.
Suddenly Andrew was standing behind the dingy bar on a Friday night, the red-haired bartender standing beside him, a lopsided grin on his face and his head pointed upwards towards the blank night sky. Andrew bit the inside of his lip and pushed it away.
“Here,” Bee said, placing a mug of hot chocolate in front of him. The mug was clearly handmade, uneven at the rim and painted an unappealing tawny color.
“How have you been?” Bee asked, leaning back in her chair, her own mug securely in her hand.
Andrew went about the usual recalling of his week from the call with Nicky that was interrupted by his incredibly mysterious cryptid roommate to his frustrating Creative Writing professor who told him that he could achieve so much if he just tried.
“You enjoy writing don’t you?” Bee asked.
Andrew shrugged, “I don’t hate it.”
“Would you rather be doing something else?”
Andrew would rather do absolutely nothing. He would rather sit in Nicky’s old house in Columbia in complete silence, only leaving to catch a shift at Eden’s before going back and sleeping away the days into pleasant nothingness.
College was a means to an end, he supposed. He hadn’t even planned on continuing his education. Aaron had gotten a scholarship to attend some fancy pre-med program at Duke and pestered Andrew over and over about the decision.
Do you want me to go? Should I look for a school closer? Do you want to attend the same college?
In the end Andrew had told Aaron to fuck off to Duke and leave him alone. Aaron didn’t owe him anything. Their deal had ended the moment that Tilda had gotten herself killed in an untimely car accident the same day that Aaron and Andrew had started high school. Aaron didn’t need him and Nicky didn’t either.
That left Andrew on his own, to his own devices, to do nothing.
What he hadn’t accounted for was his Journalism teacher to send examples of his work to her professor friend at Palmetto. After a month of nagging Andrew finally agreed to accept the scholarship and attend Palmetto to get a degree in Journalism.
It was something. Which Andrew guessed was better than nothing.
Just because he decided to attend, mostly to get everyone off his back and maybe a bit because he didn’t hate writing, didn’t mean that he was really invested. Even if he was currently sporting a 3.9 GPA in his first year.
Bee waited patiently for his reply. Andrew looked into the mug of hot chocolate and wondered if there was a way to see his future in the swirls of dark brown.
“No,” Andrew said, “I don’t want to do anything else.”
Bee smiled like it was a breakthrough, Andrew wondered if she knew what was going through his head.
“Then what’s stopping you from trying?”
Andrew glared into the mug and squeezed the sides just so that he could feel it.
“Me.”
*
The bar was packed as usual on Friday. Andrew arrived to find that the entirety of Kevin’s drinking group was very much inebriated and very much making an incoherent mess at their usual table. Andrew let out a deep sigh and shoved Kevin in their direction before abandoning all of them in favor of going to the bar.
The red haired bartender was glaring daggers at a drunk college student in front of him, his mouth going off and rambling something that Andrew only caught the tail end of as he walked up.
“Get the fuck out of my bar,” the red-head said loudly, “If you come here again I will smash your teeth in.”
“Why don’t you come around here and make me, little bitch?” The guy slurred out.
The bartender, who Andrew didn’t think was tall or strong enough to take the much larger man in a fight, ripped off his apron and walked around the bar, hands clenched into tight fists.
The second bartender, a much calmer looking woman with dark hair and dark skin, let out a deep sigh and said, “Neil, don’t do this. He isn’t worth it!”
The red-head, well Neil apparently, didn’t pay her any mind. He went straight up to the tall, drunk, idiot, raised his fist and hit him square in the jaw. Andrew raised an impressed eyebrow as the taller man immediately stepped back and grabbed for his face.
“What the fuck?” The guy yelled, his hands coming away red and bloody from a split lip.
“I said get the fuck out!” Neil yelled, pointing once again for the exit. The drunk idiot grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. He turned on his heel and left without a second thought, a few of his friends followed behind him, laughing.
Andrew went straight up to Neil and caught his eyes as Neil went to turn away.
“Oh,” Neil said, looking surprised, “I wish you hadn’t seen that.”
“Do you often get into fist fights with your patrons?”
“Only when they’re real assholes.”
“Neil,” The woman behind the bar said, “Go home. I’m sick of you starting shit on our busiest night of the week. I’ll get Matt to cover you.”
Neil looked put upon for all of a few seconds before he let out a defeated sigh.
“Fine,” Neil said, “Good luck getting Matt to do anything. I’m pretty sure he’s one drink away from being well above the legal limit.”
Neil turned on his heel as if he was going to stomp off to the back door but stopped before he took a step. He looked straight at Andrew, blue eyes gleaming almost purple under the bars lights.
“How do you feel about spray painting?” Neil asked, surprising Andrew at the strangeness of the question.
Andrew shrugged. “Decidedly neutral.”
Neil’s smirk was something fierce and sharp at the edges, one could get cut if they were too close.
“I thought you’d say that,” Neil said, a gleam of amusement in his eyes, “Want to tag along?”
Andrew looked over his shoulder to where Kevin and his merry band of drunk idiots were causing a general mess of themselves. He turned back to Neil with his bright, wide eyes, and curled hair.
It couldn’t hurt to just do something for once.
“Sure.”
Andrew followed Neil out of the bar and lit two cigarettes as soon as they were outside. Neil took one and didn’t take a single drag, because he never did, and they started walking.
They moved in relative silence. Neil occasionally filling the void with nonsense about work. Andrew found himself enjoying the light rise and fall of Neil’s voice, the way he let out soft, low volume laughs that sounded like chimes ringing in a summer breeze.
It was unclear where Neil was taking them, a part of town that was pretty much covered in construction and had been since Andrew had started at Palmetto a year ago. He didn’t think that they were ever going to complete the construction, but it seemed that the area had been given a new use in the meantime.
Under the dark cover of night and in the shadow of towering cranes and half-finished buildings, Neil led Andrew into a barely finished concrete jungle. Every wall was covered in graffiti, large colorful beasts that wrapped and twisted around the pavement. Andrew couldn’t help but look at them with the same tilt of his head as he did the graffiti posters in his dorm room. He wondered if his enigmatic roommate knew about this place, if he would like it as much as Andrew assumed he would.
Neil kept walking long after Andrew had stopped to look over a large mural of an octopus, bright orange and twisting in every which way. Neil skidded to a halt and came back around, standing shoulder to shoulder with Andrew, his eyes wandering over the large mural.
“Do you like this one?” Neil asked, nudging Andrew ever so slightly with his shoulder.
Andrew shrugged. “I don’t hate it.”
Neil’s laugh echoed through the catacombs of the unfinished buildings.
“That means a lot coming from you,” Neil said, his voice dripping with joy, “I know who painted it. Her name is Sarah. She’s amazing.”
Andrew waited a moment longer to look over the giant mural before Neil was reaching out and tapping his fingers against Andrew’s wrist.
“Come,” Neil said, as soon as Andrew had turned to look at him, “I have a spot.”
Andrew didn’t know what that meant, but he followed nonetheless. He felt a bit detached from the world when standing here, surrounded by giant murals and haunting images and bright colors. He felt less like nothing and more like something, a creature with warm blood and a beating heart.
Neil smiled sweetly over his shoulder at Andrew and then continued on his way. Andrew followed, only allowing himself to get lost in the murals around them once or twice more. Neil stopped them in front of a mostly finished piece, a large geometric mess full of varying blues that twisted and stabbed into the walls. Andrew looked it over and watched as Neil crouched beside the giant mural, tugging a milk crate full of spray paints and masks from a hiding spot inside the wall.
“Is this yours?” Andrew asked, nodding up towards the image.
Neil looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes a dark shadowy reflection of the blue image above him. He smiled bright and wide and nodded.
“Yeah,” Neil said, “This one is mine. It isn’t finished yet. It’s getting there.”
“What is it?” Andrew asked, because he didn’t get it. All he could see was blue mixing with dark lines and jagged edges. It had to be something. Andrew just couldn’t figure out what.
Neil let out a huff of a laugh and stood from his spot by the milk crate. He walked over to Andrew, two masks in hand. He hooked one over his own ears and positioned it just below his mouth before holding out the other. He didn’t wait for Andrew to take it, as soon as Andrew gave a slight nod, Neil was hooking the loops around his ears and positioning the mask just over Andrew’s mouth and nose.
“It’s nothing,” Neil said, smirking.
Andrew gave him a quizzical look.
“Nothing?”
“Yeah,” Neil replied, he finished adjusting the straps on Andrew’s mask and took one step away, “Not everything has to be something.”
He turned on his heel and looked back over the giant mural. He grabbed a can and lifted it up to show Andrew.
“Want to try?”
Andrew shook his head.
So he watched. He didn’t know how much time passed. Maybe hours, just watching Neil make more lines and shapes and shadows. Watched the paint dance across the once gray concrete until it was something different. It was something bigger and better and brighter.
When Neil was satisfied with his work for the day he stopped, dropping the can back into its crate, removing his mask, and shoving it back in its place for safe keeping. Andrew walked over and joined him, handing off his own mask. Neil smiled, warm and sweet and dripping with shadows in the darkness.
Andrew thought about kissing him, letting his fingers map out the speckled constellations across his face. He didn’t. Instead Andrew turned away, his eyes wandering to the other murals around them.
“Do you think you’d ever want to try?” Neil asked, Andrew’s brain didn’t catch up to what he was talking about. He gave Neil a pointed look and waited for an explanation.
“Spray painting,” Neil clarified, amused.
“Ask me some other time,” Andrew replied. Neil’s smile was wide and hopeful.
“Okay. Hold on,” Neil said, stopping Andrew from turning away again with a hopeful look. He went back to his crate and pulled out a black sharpie. He uncapped it with his teeth and held out a hand, palm up. Andrew eyed him warily but complied, he reached out and rested his own hand, palm down, against Neil’s.
Neil took his time, a painfully slow few minutes of him writing and then sketching out a drawing of some kind. Andrew waited patiently for him to finish. When Neil pulled away, recapping the marker and turning away to return it to the crate, Andrew lifted the hand and inspected the image that was left behind.
It was nonsensical. A mess of shapes and letters and lines that left his hand looking like a warzone of geometric shapes and strange wiggling lines that almost moved when Andrew turned his hand over. At the bottom of the mess of shapes was a phone number. Andrew looked back up to Neil, just as he was shoving his crate of paints back into the hiding spot in the wall.
Not everything has to be something.
For once Andrew wanted it to be.
*
On Tuesday there was a post-it note on the mini fridge in the suite. Andrew sighed and grabbed it.
I have to declare a major before the semester ends. Help me.
Andrew scowled at the note and wondered what he did to deserve such a useless mess of a roommate. He considered not leaving a note back, but found himself writing one out anyway. Sticking it to the fridge where his roommate’s note had just been.
write the majors on a piece of paper and pull one from a hat, idiot
The next morning there was another note, a drawing of a crying whale with the words, that doesn’t help me written in the corner. Andrew sighed and left another note. Just major in art because all you can seem to do is draw shitty cartoons on post-it notes.
There wasn’t another note for a few days, Andrew decided to humor him by leaving a note of his own, unprompted, for the first time.
Someone told me that you should do what you enjoy. What do you enjoy? Apparently you like weird graffiti covered posters and bad art jokes and drawing cartoons.
He ran out of room and grabbed another post-it, sticking it directly next to the other on his roommate’s door.
Do what you want and fuck what anyone else says. If you want to study fucking math than study math. If you want to major in being a royal pain in the ass, then do it. You’d be good at it.
Andrew scowled and grabbed one last post-it, slamming it onto the door with more force than was necessary.
Don’t do shit for anyone else. Just do it for yourself. Good luck.
Andrew left the dorm after that. He didn’t want to see the notes that he had left behind. He walked straight out of the building and lit a cigarette and then another. He stayed outside and smoked until he no longer felt like he was falling.
On Friday, almost a week since Andrew had left his several notes on his roommates door, Andrew went off to have lunch with Renee and came back to find several notes across the entire suite of the apartment. Andrew looked around in mild shock at the mess of yellow and orange. Drawings, doodles, portraits, some realistic while others were more cartoonish and childish. Half written poems and notes from classes.
Andrew found one stuck directly to his door, he went over and tore it off, looking over the note several times.
I’m going to major in Fine Art the note said. Andrew let out a deep sigh and mumbled, “So dramatic.” Under his breath.
He turned to start taking the rest of the notes down when a flash of yellow on the ground caught his eye. He bent over and picked it up, only to see that the note was half crumbled, as if his roommate had decided last minute that he didn’t want to post it anymore.
Thank you. You’re amazing.
Andrew scowled at the note and cupped it in his hand as if it was a small baby bird. He ran his free hand over the words once and then twice.
Amazing. Andrew thought that he was anything but.
He went around the suite and took the rest of the notes down, piling them up in his hand before taking them into his room. He stuck every single one of them over his desk, every drawing, every strange poem, every weird confession of words and doodles.
He kept the last one just for himself. He tucked it into the front page of his leather bound journal. The one that Nicky had given him as a graduation gift. The one that was empty because Andrew had no idea what to fill the pages with.
He held the dark journal in his hand. The yellow of the post-it note contrasting against the creamy color of the paper.
Without thinking too much about it, Andrew grabbed a pen from his desk, took his journal, sat on his bed and started writing.
*
“Are you okay?” Renee asked, at their last lunch date of the semester. Andrew only shrugged at her and poked at the plate of waffles in front of him.
He had spent the last weeks between two worlds. His phone was full of text messages shared between him and Neil. His camera roll was full of images of spray painted murals and Neil in various places, the concrete graveyard covered in graffiti, the bar, an art store, a coffee shop in town, anywhere that Andrew could get him alone for just a few minutes. The consistent was that he was always smiling, always bright eyed, and looking at Andrew with painful warmth.
Andrew didn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it. The warm looks, the consistent text messages with Neil complaining about his day or sending along photos of his drawings and sketches from class.
His dorm wall, the one above his desk was covered in post-it notes from his roommate. Some were chicken scratch questions, others were intricate drawings and doodles.
Andrew didn’t know how he had ended up surrounded by idiot artists, both worming their way into his life without him knowing how to stop them.
The semester was winding to an end rather quickly. Andrew had made peace with his Creative Writing professor. His journal was now full of short stories, varying in length and whimsicality. His professor had told him that he was really feeling it now, that he was inspired, that he was sitting on the cusp of finally discovering his true art form, his true calling. Andrew couldn’t help but think that it was thanks to a pair of wide blue eyes and a dorm room covered in yellow and orange post-it notes.
Andrew looked at Renee, her eyes soft and full of something close to fondness. She watched him as she always did, all knowing and inquisitive. Andrew looked back at her like he did with anything else now, clear and unrelenting.
“Yeah,” Andrew replied, “I’m okay.”
Renee smiled, warm and soft and melting. Andrew didn’t force his eyes away, he shook his head and gave her an amused breath, the closest he could get to an actual laugh, before poking at his waffles once again.
He didn’t think that he could manage to eat more. He felt full, completely, to the brim.
*
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us over the summer?” Kevin asked. He was helping Andrew pack up the dorm room, well helping wasn’t the right word at all, Kevin was sitting on the couch and watching as Andrew packed up the suite.
“I’m sure,” Andrew replied. Kevin didn’t look convinced. He watched warily as Andrew went about pulling various items out of the kitchen suite. The day before Andrew had left a post-it note for his roommate that he was going to pack up the suite and that if he wanted to take anything with him then he should label it with a post-it note.
Nothing had been labeled, so Andrew assumed that his roommate wanted nothing. That didn’t stop Andrew from pointedly leaving behind the coffee maker, the one that he had bought specifically for his disaster roommate. He didn’t need it in Columbia so he thought that it would be best if it went to someone that would actually use it.
“What are you going to do in Columbia all summer?” Kevin asked, leaving out the alone, but it was implied.
Andrew wouldn’t be alone really. Aaron was coming down from Duke for a month before going to stay with his girlfriend’s family in Virginia. Andrew had tried very hard to convince him not to visit at all, but all he could manage was to convince Aaron that he should only stay for one month instead of the four. It was better than nothing, Andrew considered.
“Nothing,” Andrew replied. Which was partially true. Andrew had made some type of plans with Neil. They had decided in a rather mutual agreement that they wanted to see more of each other, in any capacity. Andrew hadn’t been able to say it with words, he could only give Neil a lingering look that left the ice blue of Neil’s eyes melting into something warm and oceanic.
They had decided to take it slow, but slow wasn’t really in Neil’s vocabulary, not when he was a fast track of running in every which direction whenever his heart desired. Andrew was just along for the ride.
“You’re so depressing,” Kevin huffed, but he didn’t sound amused or teasing, he looked mildly concerned and Andrew was having none of it.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Andrew replied. His phone went off against the counter and he reached out to grab it, looking over the text from Neil, who was aptly saved in his phone as Duchamp, a joke that Neil found incredibly amusing and Andrew only mildly entertained.
Just finished packing the studio. Going to grab some stuff from my dorm.
Andrew sighed and sent back a quick okay before going back to his packing.
Kevin continued to drawl on and on about his summer plans, how his mother was going to be coming back form a dig site and wanted Kevin to meet her in London for a month or two. Kevin made it very clear that he would rather shove his head into a cement packer than spend one on one time with his mom. Andrew knew that he was just being dramatic and problematic and that he would end up going anyway. Kevin always gave in to his mother’s requests.
The handle to the door started to wiggle and Andrew raised his eyebrows in surprise as someone struggled to get the door open.
Kevin looked just as shocked, if not more so than Andrew felt, “Is that-” He started but didn’t finish because soon the door was opening and Andrew’s cryptid roommate was walking in, a key in one hand and in the other a dark black bag.
“Neil?” Andrew asked in surprise, “What the fuck?”
Neil looked absolutely everywhere other than Andrew for a moment. His mouth open and his lips turning up in a shocked smile.
“You’re my roommate?” Neil asked, looking at Andrew in complete surprise, his words bubbling over in amusement, “Oh my god.”
“Kevin get out,” Andrew bit out. Kevin didn’t have to be told twice, he stood from the couch and scurried off to the door, giving a quiet hey, Neil as he passed. Neil closed the door behind him and gave Andrew a pointedly amused look.
“How the fuck are you my roommate?” Andrew asked, “I should have known. The stupid post-it notes, the weird posters-”
Neil let out a laugh that sounded like it always sounded, soft and chiming, and far too bright for the small suite.
“This is amazing,” Neil said, “I’m so glad I agreed to dorm with you again next year. Saves us a lot of trouble.”
“How come you’re never in the dorm?” Andrew asked, “The entire semester and this is the first time we’re here at the same time.”
“That’s not true,” Neil chided, he stepped closer and gave Andrew a knowing smile, “I’m just quiet. Besides, you know I work a lot, between the bar and studio monitoring for the art department. I also have the studio on campus. Sometimes I would just sleep there.”
Andrew let out a long sigh and reached out, his fingers hooking into the belt loops of Neil’s jeans. He pulled him closer until they were flush, chest to chest, as they sometimes ended up after a long night of graffiti and smoking.
Neil leaned forward and stole two kisses off of Andrew. He leaned back, his eyes wandering before catching on something over Andrew’s shoulder.
“No way,” Neil said in awe, he pulled away from Andrew and made a bee-line to Andrew’s room, looking over the post-it notes that Andrew hadn’t taken off the wall yet.
“You saved them,” Neil whispered. Andrew followed him into the room and leaned against the door frame, watching while Neil looked over each note. Andrew didn’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed. He could come up with some dumb excuse for saving every single one of the post-it notes. Maybe he could even convince himself that it had meant nothing, just a way to decorate the white wall with nonsense.
It wasn’t true. The notes had meant something to him, even if he hadn’t known why at the time. Now it was more clear, seeing as the two objects of his affection had morphed into a red-haired, energetic, freckled moron, with bright eyes and warm skin and a fondness for Andrew’s detached personality.
“You like me,” Neil accused, his lips tilting and shifting in clear amusement.
“You’re the worst,” Andrew replied, “Don’t test me. I will cancel the roommate request for next year.”
Neil laughed loud and joyful and sweet. He turned and pressed himself against Andrew’s front, his arms looped around Andrew’s neck, their noses brushing.
“You wouldn’t,” Neil replied, “You like me too much.”
Andrew didn’t bother correcting him. He leaned forward and caught Neil’s stupid mouth in a warm kiss that sent a thrill of shivers down the underside of his arms.
It was definitely better than nothing.
*
“So you’re telling me that the guy you’ve been sleeping with and the cryptid roommate that you never met were the same person?”
“Shut up.”
“I mean the, entire time Andrew. Aren’t you studying investigative journalism? Shouldn’t you have noticed?”
“Shut up, Day. I will kill you.”
Neil just laughed at them.