Chapter Text
The 6:00 PM rush at the Starbucks near campus was a sensory nightmare, but Fries didn't care.
He sat in a corner booth, staring at his lukewarm AmericanO with the intensity of a man who hadn't slept since the midterms began.
Beside him, Blocky was sprawled across the faux-leather seat, tossing a crumpled napkin at a trash can and missing by a mile.
"God, this place smells like burnt beans and desperation," Fries grumbled, adjusting his red hoodie.
"That’s just the smell of your personality, man," Blocky shot back, eyes glued to a TikTok feed. "Wait, here they come."
TV led the way, his face illuminated by the harsh glow of a tablet strapped to his chest - an eccentric tech setup that made everyone else in the cafe stare. Puffball trailed behind him in a coat so fluffy and neon-pink it looked like she’d skinned a Muppet.
"We're here, bitches!" Puffball announced, her voice echoing off the industrial ceiling. She slammed a tray of overpriced Frappuccinos onto the table. "TV almost got us kicked out of the library because his text-to-speech was set to 'Sarcastic British Man' at max volume."
TV didn't look up. His fingers blurred across a mechanical keyboard he’d set on the small table. "The library is for losers who don't know how to use LibGen," his mechanical voice-box droned.
A nervous-looking sophomore approached their table, clutching a notebook. "Uh, TV? Do you have the Chem 101 lab results?"
TV’s screen flickered. A QR code appeared. "Scan it and get out of my sight. The answer to question six is a covalent bond. How are we failing."
"TV, stop being a dick," Blocky laughed, finally sitting up to grab a drink. "And Fries, stop looking like someone killed your dog. We’re supposed to be 'relaxing.'"
"Hard to relax when the human encyclopedia over here is running an illegal academic smuggling ring," Fries snapped, though he reached over and swiped a sip of Puffball’s sugary drink.
"Hey! That’s five dollars!" Puffball chirped, leaning over to mess up Fries's hair.
"Don't touch the hair," Fries growled, but he didn't move away.
The Starbucks wifi was struggling to keep up with the sheer volume of notifications pinging from the "Are you okay" group chat.
TV had his phone plugged into a portable power bank, his screen scrolling through the mess at a speed only he could read, while Blocky and Fries hovered over his shoulder.
"Look at this shit," Blocky wheezed, pointing at a string of messages from Pen.
[Are you okay]
Pen: yo eraser u left ur hoodey at my dorm lol
Pen: it smells like u i keep hugging it
Pen: wait no i mean i keep huging it
Pen: how do u spel huging
Eraser: stfu u love me
Pen: i do lol come over later and lets watch movies and cuddle (no homo tho)
Eraser: full homo idc
"They are so fucking obvious," Fries muttered, taking a long drag of his coffee. "Just get married already so I can stop reading your flirting in the main chat. It’s making me nauseous."
"You're just jealous because no one wants to cuddle your salty ass," Puffball teased, kicking Fries under the table.
Suddenly, a block of text appeared that halted all conversation.
It was perfectly punctuated, devoid of emojis, and took up half the screen.
Golf Ball: I am writing to inform this collective that the answers TV provided for the Physics 201 worksheet contain a marginal error in the third decimal place. Furthermore, I find the current trajectory of this conversation to be highly inefficient. What does 'no cap' signify? Is it an acronym for a specific chemical compound?
TV sighed loudly and blinked slowly. He began typing back with aggressive efficiency.
“She’s literally a robot," Puffball cackled, snatching TV's phone to record a voice note of her just screaming. "I should send her the 'L + Ratio' meme from like 15 years ago. She’s going to spend three hours trying to calculate the ratio."
"Don't," Fries sighed, though a small smirk cracked his grumpy facade. "She’ll just call a town hall meeting to discuss the 'mathematical implications of the L.' Just let Pen and Eraser go back to being domestic or whatever."
As if on cue, a new message popped up.
Pen: guys i tried to order pizza but i accidentally typed my adress wrong and now its at the cemetary help
Eraser: lol ur so cute and dumb ill go get it with u babe
TV let out a digitized sigh that sounded like a dying hard drive. "I’m surrounded by idiots. Except for Fries. He’s just miserable."
"I'll take it," Fries said, raising his cup in a grim toast.
The digital chaos of the group chat was interrupted by the chime of the Starbucks door.
Golf Ball marched in, looking less like a college student and more like a CEO about to fire an entire department. She was clutching a ThinkPad covered in stickers of various molecular structures.
"I have tracked your GPS coordinates," Golf Ball announced, slamming her laptop down on the tiny bit of table space TV wasn't already occupying. "TV, your explanation of 'no cap' was logically inconsistent. If the 'cap' is metaphorical, the 'fr fr' must be redundant. It is an affront to the linguistic economy."
TV sighed. "GB, it is 6:30 PM on a Tuesday. If you don't stop talking like a LegalZoom terms-of-service agreement, I’m going to leak your search history - which I know is just 400 tabs of 'how to optimize sleep cycles.'"
Fries leaned back, looking exhausted. "Great. The nerd squad is all here. Now we just need the idiots."
Right on cue, Pen stumbled into the shop, tripping over the doorframe.
He was wearing Eraser’s oversized blue hoodie, the sleeves hanging past his knuckles. Eraser was right behind him, his hand casually resting on the small of Pen's back as they navigated the crowd.
"Yo! We got the pizza!" Pen shouted, holding up a grease-stained box from Domino's. "The guy at the cemetery gate was super chill. He thought we were 'goth lovers.' What does that mean?"
"It means you’re both losers," Puffball chirped, already reaching into the box to snatch a slice of pepperoni. "And Pen, you spelled 'cemetery' right on the first try in your head, didn't you? It's a miracle."
"I used Grammarly," Pen admitted proudly, sliding into the booth and pulling Eraser down next to him.
Their shoulders were glued together, Eraser’s arm immediately finding its way around the back of Pen’s neck.
Golf Ball stared at them, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "Pen, why are you wearing Eraser’s garment? According to the thermal readings in this establishment, it is 72 degrees Fahrenheit. An extra layer is thermodynamically unnecessary for you, yet Eraser is currently shivering. This is an inefficient distribution of resources."
Eraser just smirked, pulling Pen closer. "It’s not about 'resources,' GB. It’s a vibe. You wouldn't get it."
"Is 'vibe' another chemical compound?" Golf Ball asked, genuinely opening a new tab on Wikipedia.
"It's a romantic compound," TV droned. "Subject A (Pen) and Subject B (Eraser) are engaged in a ritualistic display of 'homoeroticism' that 98% of the student body has already bet money on."
"It’s chill," Pen said, his face turning the same color as the Starbucks strawberry refresher. "We just... share clothes. And beds. And sometimes we hold hands so we don't get lost. Like bros."
Fries put his head in his hands. "I can't do this. I’m leaving. TV, send me the answers for the Ethics final. I need to go lie in a dark room and forget I know any of you."
"Wait, Fries!" Puffball yelled, throwing a crust at him. "We haven't even told GB about Kirk yet!"
"Please don’t," Blocky and Fries said in perfect, miserable unison.
"Oh, please do proceed," Golf Ball said, her fingers poised over her keyboard like she was transcribing a deposition. "I have already cross-referenced 'Kirk' on Urban Dictionary, but the etymological roots seem... statistically improbable."
TV’s looked up momentarily from his screen to shoot Golf Ball a glare. "GB, for the love of all that is holy, do not look that up on the university Wi-Fi. The IT department already has a folder on us."
"Too late!" Puffball cackled, bouncing in her seat and nearly knocking over Pen’s second Frappuccino.
Eraser didn't even flinch. He was too busy using a napkin to wipe a smudge of pizza sauce off Pen’s chin. "Pen, you want to head back? My Xbox is calling my name."
"And my bed," Pen added helpfully, completely oblivious to the collective groan that went around the table. "My roommate is staying at his girlfriend's place, so we don't have to deal with his snoring. It’s gonna be so lit, we can finally finish that Minecraft build."
"A 'lit' Minecraft session in a private dormitory," Golf Ball muttered, typing furiously. "I am logging this under 'Highly Suspicious Platonic Behavior.' My data suggests a 99.4% probability that you two will be 'cuddling' - as Pen previously misspelled - within the hour."
"It's spelled C-U-D-E-L-I-N-G," Pen shouted defiantly.
TV groaned. "I am deleting my language processing files. I cannot exist in this reality anymore." He snapped his laptop shut, stood up, and looked at Fries, who was currently trying to drown himself in his own empty cup. "Fries. We are leaving. Now."
"Thank god," Fries whispered, grabbing his bag. "If I hear one more Kirk reference out of a ball of fluff or a sentient television, I’m dropping out and joining a monastery."
As the group spilled out of the Starbucks and into the cool night air of the campus quad, Eraser and Pen naturally drifted away from the pack, walking so close their shoulders bumped every two steps.
"Hey," Eraser said, his voice dropping an octave as they neared the freshman dorms. "You still have my hoodie. You should probably just keep it. It looks better on you anyway."
Pen beamed, his cheeks flushed. "For real? Thanks, man."
Behind them, they could hear Golf Ball’s distant, shrill voice lecturing Puffball on the linguistic degradation of the Gen Z vocabulary, while TV played music through his laptop at full volume.
"Bro, your hands are like ice," Pen complained, though he leaned into the touch. "Are you a lizard? Is that why you can't spell?"
"I can spell fine, you dickhead," Eraser laughed, pulling Pen closer. "And don't worry about my hands, they’ll get warm once we're back at the dorm. No homo."
"Total homo," Blocky interrupted, shoving between them with a grin. He was carrying a Yeti cooler he’d definitely stolen from the frat house next door. "I’ve seen the way you guys look at each other over a shared plate of nachos. It’s disgusting. It’s beautiful. I’m gonna film it and put it on YouTube."
"Blocky, if you put a camera in our room again, I'm throwing your GoPro into the campus lake," Eraser threatened, though he didn't let go of Pen.
Golf Ball marched behind them, her heels clicking rhythmically on the pavement.
She was staring intensely at her phone, her brow furrowed in genuine distress. "I have analyzed the group chat logs from the last twenty minutes. Pen, your use of the word 'bro' has increased by 400%. Statistically, you are either having a stroke or you are trying to impress Eraser through rhythmic slang."
"Leave me alone!" Pen shouted back, nearly tripping over a curb.
“Fries! Tell GB she’s being a nerd! Tell her!" Puffball chirped, spinning in a circle and nearly hitting a passerby. She turned to Fries, who was trying to disappear into the collar of his jacket.
"She’s being a nerd," Fries muttered, his voice muffled. "You’re all being idiots. I just want to go back to my room, eat my overpriced Postmates order in peace, and pretend I don't know any of you."
Blocky stopped, holding up a hand. "Alright, losers. The 'Platonic Couple' is heading to their honeymoon suite, GB is going to go cry over a spreadsheet, and TV is going to go interface with a toaster or whatever. Who’s coming with me to the rooftop? I found a way to bypass the security lock on the Science Building."
"Absolutely not," Fries groaned, rubbing his face. "I'm going to go lie in a dark room and try to forget I know you people. If I get one more email about a 'security breach' in my building, I’m moving to another campus."
Puffball let out a sharp laugh. "I’ll go with you, Blocky! I want to see if we can rewire the intercoms to play heavy metal during the 8:00 AM lectures."
As Blocky and Puffball headed off toward the lab, Eraser felt a heavy weight slump against his side. He looked down to see Pen practically dead on his feet, his chin resting on Eraser's shoulder as he stared blankly at the pavement.
"Yo, we're heading out too," Eraser announced, hooking his arm around Pen's waist to keep him upright. "I’m not spending my night in a crawlspace."
"We're gonna... watch movies," Pen mumbled into Eraser's hoodie, his voice muffled and exhausted. "And eat. And probably sleep for ten years."
"Yeah, sure, 'movies,'" Blocky yelled back over his shoulder as he disappeared into the shadows. "Don't forget to lock your door, you two!"
"Go fuck yourself, Blocky!" Eraser shouted back, though he was already steering Pen toward the East Hall dorms.
The group split under the moonlight - the geniuses toward their data, the chaos-seekers toward the Science Building, and Pen and Eraser toward a night that everyone else on campus had already placed bets on.
The walk to East Hall was quiet, save for the rhythmic scuff of Eraser’s sneakers and the occasional heavy stumble from Pen.
Away from the neon glare of Starbucks, the campus felt eerie and still, the kind of silence that usually preceded one of Blocky’s explosions.
"You’re literally dead weight, dude," Eraser muttered, though he tightened his grip on Pen’s waist to keep him from veering into a hedge.
"I’m just... energy efficient," Pen managed, his eyes half-closed. He fumbled with the drawstrings of Eraser’s hoodie, pulling them until the hood obscured his entire face. "Is it Friday yet? Please tell me it’s Friday."
"It’s Tuesday, idiot. We have three more days of this shit."
They reached the dorm entrance, and Eraser scanned his ID card with his free hand.
The lobby was deserted, smelling of industrial floor cleaner and stale popcorn. As they stepped into the elevator, Pen finally detached himself from Eraser’s side, slumped against the mirrored wall, and stared at his own reflection.
"I look like shit," Pen noted dispassionately.
"You look fine," Eraser said, checking his phone.
The elevator dinged at the fourth floor.
When they reached there room, Pen collapsed onto his bed without even taking his shoes off. Eraser kicked the door shut with his heel, tossed his keys on the desk, and immediately went over to pull Pen’s sneakers off.
"Sit up, man. You can't rot yet, we’ve still got pizza leftovers," Eraser commanded, though his tone lacked any real bite.
Pen rolled over, looking up at Eraser with a sleepy, lopsided grin. "You’re a good bro, Eraser. Like, top-tier. I don't care what Fries says about you being a bad influence."
Eraser paused, a pair of dirty sneakers in his hand, and felt a weird heat crawl up the back of his neck. "Yeah, well. Fries is a dick. Now move over, I’m putting on a movie."
He climbed onto the narrow twin bed, propping himself up against the wall and opening his laptop. Pen didn't hesitate; he slid over until he was tucked firmly under Eraser’s arm, his head finding that familiar spot on Eraser’s chest.
Across campus, a faint alarm started blaring from the direction of the Science Building, likely signaling that Blocky had finally triggered the sprinklers. But in their room, the only sound was the hum of a laptop fan and the quiet, steady breathing of two guys who were definitely, absolutely, 100% just friends.