Chapter Text
“Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago.
Where have all the flowers gone?
The girls have picked them every one.”
- Where Have All the Flowers Gone — Peter, Paul & Mary
.✦ ݁˖Reader POV
— ᨳଓ .
3 Days since arriving at Hail Mary University
— ᨳଓ .
You are absolutely, unequivocally, fucking shattered. Who knew that a brutal cocktail of trying to move in without having most of your belongings, mandatory icebreakers, and forced socialising could drain a human soul so completely?
…Obviously, you did.
Why are you trying to even kid yourself?
You have the single shortest, most volatile social battery out of possibly everyone ever to ever grace this planet so you really shouldn’t be surprised. Your battery didn’t just drain; it practically imploded.
Moving in went smoothly enough, if you do say so yourself. The orientation day and the absolute chaos of the networking event the day after that, however? Complete trainwrecks. And the catalyst for all three days of misery? Three separate, utterly incredible run ins with your brand new, self appointed best mate (‘massive note of sarcasm here, obviously.’)
— ᨳଓ .
3 days ago…
— ᨳଓ .
You drag your suitcase across the threshold of your new dorm room and practically collapse onto the floor as soon as you get in. But as you look around, the exhaustion gives way to genuine shock. The room is actually…roomier than you expected. A single bed, a decent sized desk, a compact kitchenette with a microwave and a coffee machine (you immediately make a mental note to acquire a kettle, because priorities), a wardrobe, and the true holy grail: an ensuite.
After surviving the nightmare of a shared bathroom back at Oxford, this feels like stepping into a five-star luxury hotel. The sheer domestic freedom hits you like a wave. You could buy a cute bathmat! You could get a matching, aesthetic hand soap dispenser! The possibilities are literally ENDLESS!
You set to work unpacking your single suitcase, carefully ensuring you leave room for your belongings that are being shipped over across the ocean. The reality of having a severely limited wardrobe for a week or so begins to sink in. Objectively, it’s a total first-world problem, you know, but the looming dread of wearing nothing but basic jeans and t-shirts for seven straight days is enough to make you sigh.
You however did have one stroke of absolute genius; you packed a duvet and pillow case set. You pull it from the depths of your bag and meticulously make the bed. When you step back, you can't help but admire the transformation. It’s a stunning floral canvas covered in daisies, vibrant bluebells, delicate angel’s trumpets, and periwinkles, and it instantly breathes life into the sterile room. It feels like home.
Suddenly, a wave of vivid nostalgia hits you—memories of the lush, sweeping countrysides, filled with varying flora and fauna as the seasons change. That’s something you are truly going to miss. You already miss it. A cold realisation drops into your stomach: ‘Good Lord, I am more than 5,000 miles from my home.’ Deciding that feeling homesick on day one is pathetic and entirely unproductive, you aggressively shove your emotions deep down. You grab your headphones, blast your favourite playlist to drown out your thoughts, and burst out of the dorm as fast as you can. You practically sprint down the stairwell, which is a tactical error you regret almost straight away.
Remember when that human wrecking ball of a guy practically body slammed you into the floor earlier? Yeah, that little encounter has left you with a magnificent, throbbing bruise right on your hip, which makes every single step feel like a personal insult, and an absolute pain in the arse to even walk, never mind run!
Still, the moment you push open the heavy doors and the thick, sun warmed air hits your face, a wave of relief washes over you. Nature has always been your reset button.
Your hip limits the radius of where you can go, but thankfully, the university courtyard itself is a botanical sanctuary. As you limp along, you easily identify some vibrant lantanas and brilliant, golden California poppies as you walk past. It isn't the familiar greenery of home, but it’s breathtaking in its own right. Spotting a particularly perfect, fiery-orange California poppy, you bend down carefully to pluck it, planning to take it back with you to press between the pages of a heavy book.
As you stand back up, you freeze.
You realise that he is walking by.
Your eyes lock. He watches you with a cool, weary suspicion as he closes the distance. Swallowing your pride, you offer a small, polite smile and mutter a quiet, conversational, “Hi.”
He doesn't blink. He doesn't nod. He looks straight through you, keeping his pace, and utterly ignores your existence.
Your jaw drops. ‘What the actual fuck? Who does he think he is?’
A hot flash of pure, unadulterated fury replaces your peaceful mood. The sheer audacity of this man! He was the literal human bulldozer who knocked you into next week, after all!
Fuming, you turn on your heel and march back to your dorm, a storm cloud practically hovering over your head. This means war.
— ᨳଓ .
2 days ago…
— ᨳଓ .
Today is orientation day. Yay!
You really, truly cannot wait for this! (‘Surely if you gaslight yourself hard enough, maybe it could actually come true?’) Luckily, you spot a familiar face pretty much straight away and you immediately hook a trajectory over to Annie.
“Hey! Where on earth do I need to go?” You ask, maintaining a small, tight smile to hide the fact you are lowkey spiralling and utterly stressed. She tells you to head over to the dean of the biology department. You turn around and, right on cue, see a very stern-looking woman looming in the distance.
You traipse your way over to the suit-wearing woman, suddenly feeling dreadfully underdressed and quite ashamed of your plain purple t-shirt and blue flared jeans, and sheepishly ask her where you need to go.
She replies sharply in a European accent that you can’t place straight away, but the crisp syllables give it away and you soon come to realise she is Dutch. ‘Is it terrible that you’re secretly thrilled there is another non-American navigating this place?’
“We emailed out the information to you one week prior to your move-in date. Was that not sufficient enough, hm?”
‘Oh, god…’
”I am very sorry, I will recheck it now. Thank you, have a lovely day!” You reply instantly, the apology tumbling out as you beat a swift retreat, pulling out your phone. You frantically scroll through your inbox until you find the last email addressed from Hail Mary University.
⋆˚꩜｡
Hello Miss ♡!
We are excited for you to join us next week but please ensure you know the following details for the orientation day:
10:00am – Welcome lecture in the Main Hall with the Dean of the Faculty of Biology.
11:00am – Break.
11:15am – Laboratory and facilities tour.
1:00pm – Lunch.
1:30pm – Cohort Welcome Meeting: Meet Your Fellow Doctoral Researchers.
2:30pm – Health and Safety Briefing and Laboratory Induction.
3:15pm – Coffee Break.
3:30pm – PhD Expectations Seminar.
4:30pm – End of orientation.
Please also note there is a Networking Social Event the next night where you can speak to Faculty members and current PhD researchers.
If you have any issues, please do not hesitate to further contact us.
Smart casual dress is expected and we will provide lunch for you all.
See you next week,
Hail Mary University’s Faculty of Biology
⋆˚꩜｡
‘Oh, fuck.’ She was completely right. Why didn’t you check your emails before? You glance at the time in the top left corner of your screen: 9:47am. ‘Okay, so you have exactly thirteen minutes to find the main lecture hall… problem is, where the bloody hell is that?’
You start to wander through the corridors, clearly looking confused. You can’t exactly help it, honestly, as every single lecture hall looks absolutely identical to the last.
Because you are entirely hyper focused on trying to find the hall, you don’t even realise someone has practically synthesised right next to you out of thin air. He is shorter than you, with brown hair sporting distinct teal streaks, and round glasses framing his eyes. Seriously thick glasses, too, he must be practically blind. He has a small tablet which is attached to a cross body strap. You are confused at first until he begins to press the screen and it speaks to you. It must be an AAC device. ‘Cool!’
”Do you need help, question? Are you looking for the main lecture hall? If so, I am heading there, if you want to come too.”
You can’t help but grin widely. He is quite literally your knight in shining armour!
”Hi! Yes, I am, thank you! You are honestly a lifesaver!”
He quirks an eyebrow in pure, utter confusion before responding,
”But I didn't save your life? I am just showing you where a room is.”
Okay, so he doesn’t understand figurative speech or hyperbole. Noted.
”Thank you for taking me to it, regardless. I’m ♡, it’s lovely to meet you.”
Luckily, he looks far less confused this time. He smiles back as you approach a room you have almost certainly walked past probably four times already.
”Nice to meet you. I am Rocky. Here is the lecture hall. I will see you around, question?”
”You certainly will. Goodbye, Rocky!”
You enter the room to see everyone already fully settled and sat down apart from yourself. You walk up the tiered stairs to an empty seat next to the aisle and sink into it. Glancing casually to your left, a sudden, horrifying realisation hits you. You have just sat directly next to him.
‘Are you fucking joking?’
You instinctively roll your eyes just as he looks up at you—fabulous timing, truly! He immediately scowls, pulls a face back, and mutters, “Rude,” under his breath.
Sadly, you do not have the time to respond with a cutting retort, as this is the exact moment Stratt steps up to the podium and begins her talk.
— ᨳଓ .
1 day ago…
— ᨳଓ .
The orientation day wasn’t just a disappointment; it was an absolute nightmare. In hindsight, it turns out he is probably one of the worst people you have ever encountered.
Seriously.
He actually is.
You did genuinely try to engage in some polite conversation during the breaktimes, but he clearly wasn’t interested in making an effort. Instead, he ended up brushing you off and going to talk to Rocky. So, just like that, your already small friend count has been reduced back down to one. It’s hard not to imagine he was over there telling Rocky how evil and villainous you are. Jokes aside, it wouldn't surprise you if he actually did. After all, he made it abundantly clear that he thinks you are “rude.”
Now, you find yourself standing awkwardly at the edge of this massive networking event, questioning all of your life choices. You're trapped in heels that are far too painful to stand in for another minute, wearing a dress you seriously hate. It’s not even that it’s a horrible dress objectively; it’s just completely not your cup of tea, and you feel entirely out of your element.
Sipping slowly at your wine, you glance around the crowded room, watching everyone else mingle so effortlessly. You know you probably should force yourself to make an effort and speak to some people, but the mental energy just isn't there. At this point, jet lag is your absolute biggest enemy, and your entire body feels so heavy and tired that even standing upright feels like a major achievement.
You look across the crowded room and notice that he is still standing entirely on his own, looking just as isolated as you feel. The warmth of the drink finally settles in, burning away the last of your hesitation and replacing it with a sudden, reckless surge of bravery. Before your rational mind can talk you out of it, you are already moving. You march straight across the floor, cutting a direct path through the mingling bodies, your focus narrowed entirely on him. Stepping right into his personal space, you square your shoulders and deliver your grievance with a tight, fiercely controlled composure that you hope passes for polite (not):
”Why are you being such a prick towards me? Do I need to remind you that it was YOU who knocked ME over?”
To drive the point home, you jab your index finger sharply against his chest, demanding he acknowledge what he did. For a second, he freezes, his posture locking up beneath your touch before he finally recovers his composure and shoots back,
"I have done nothing, thank you very much."
‘Oh, so he is denying it? A grown man, by the way…’ The sheer disbelief spikes your frustration. Before you can even process the lie, he turns on his heel to walk away, dismissing you entirely. Instinct takes over; you reach out and grab his arm, pulling him back toward you. The sudden momentum brings him closer than you expected. Your eyes lock instantly, the anger in the air instantly hardening into something thick and suffocating, causing your breath to hitch sharply in your chest.
“Don’t even try lying to me," you retort, the words spilling out in a rush of pure frustration. "You don’t even know me but you’ve decided to be an absolute wanker for zero reason!”
You are completely geared up to tear into him further, but the words are cut short as someone abruptly steps into your peripheral vision. White hot irritation flaring, you whip your head around, fully prepared to let this newcomer feel the absolute brunt of your wrath too, until the anger hits a sudden wall.
It’s Rocky.
The fury drains out of you, replaced by immediate confusion as he stands there, completely ignoring the tension radiating between the two of you. His eyes are glued to the screen of his tablet, his fingers flying across the glass as he quickly taps out a sequence of buttons, looking back and forth between you and the man as if calculating something only he can see.
“Grace and Rocky time to go home, question?”
The flat, electronic voice from the AAC device cuts clean through the tension. You look over at the man in front of you, and in fairness to him, he looks absolutely shattered. The fight seems to drain out of him the moment the question is asked, leaving him looking thoroughly exhausted.
‘Grace? So that’s his name…’
Grace is traditionally a girl’s name, and the sheer contrast between the name and the stubborn, brooding man standing before you catches you completely off guard. You quirk an eyebrow at him, a small, involuntary giggle escaping before you can stop it.
“Your name is Grace?”
He looks completely taken aback by your amusement, his jaw tightening as if you have just pushed him past his very last nerve.
“Why are you laughing?” he snaps, his voice laced with pure irritation. “And you would know my name if you didn’t resort to immediately squaring up to me. My first name is Ryland, but I usually just go by my last name,” he sighs loudly before turning to his friend, “Okay, Rocky, let’s go.”
He turns sharply, and as he brushes past you to follow Rocky out, his shoulder slams firmly against yours. The heavy contact jolts you slightly. Did he do that on purpose with malicious intent, or was it just a careless accident in a tight space? Who knows.
Left standing alone in the wake of the confrontation, you feel the adrenaline begin to fade. You raise your glass, finishing off the final drop of your wine, before finally gathering your things to leave the party too.