Chapter Text
Today is moving day at D'Qar University, a small campus-based college nestled near the D'Qar National Forest in Oregon. The front lawn of the college is filled with students both returning and new, many with fear and apprehension painted clearly in their eyes upon arrival at a new beginning. The sentiments of high school, the emotional last days, the proms, the hugs and photographs goodbye with friends are still fresh at the forefronts of minds here, but college is perhaps not the right place for reminiscence. There are new memories and friends to be made, people who aren't toxic from being stuck in the same backwards, shitty, smelly old town. But there are still students every few seconds who stop, breath hitched for half a second, to purposefully set their foot down onto the gravelly tarmac of the D'Qar University sidewalk. The first step into a new beginning. Finn Olori, the embodiment of kind, is one such wistful first year: he is determined to use college as a fresh start, to not be stepped on and used as a welcome mat as much as he once had been. God, he is nervous, anxiety coming off him in waves. He takes a deep breath in, out, in, before stepping-
-and of course, tripping over a student ambassador and falling face-first onto the ground. Luckily his head lands on the grass, bouncing off slightly to soften the blow. Embarrassment takes over and he pushes himself back to an upright position, willing the blush on his cheeks to fade already, damn it!
“Fuck, I'm so sorry, are you okay?,” the ambassador gushes, sincerity clear in her eyes. Finn nods, stops. Chuckles slightly to try and pass the embarrassment off a little.
“Yeah, uh... thanks,” he mutters. “Are you? Okay, I mean?” Finn says apologetically, looking at her properly in time to see her nod. Jessika, her badge declares proudly. She is pretty in the objective sense, dark hair that turns russet when the sun hits it in a certain way, dark eyes, full lips, average height. (Just Rey's type, he thinks to himself, trying to think of a way to remind himself to tell her about this girl later on.)
“Thanks, yeah, I'm alright. First year?” she questions, and the two fall into light small talk about the college, its atmosphere, majors, where are your halls?, oh it's a shame that we're not in the same one, yeah, we'll catch up later, here's my number, bye now! Jessika is lovely. Rey is gonna like her. Finn smiles lightly, squinting in the early September sunlight, and begins walking again to find his room.
An hour later, Rey Kenobi and Finn Olori are both panting on the staircase. It's only the first floor of the building but they apparently both underestimated the difficulty of lugging this much furniture up the stairs, both of them sorely regretting bringing all of this with them. Rey gave up on standing approximately ten minutes ago, her legs weak and her breath still coming out shorter than it should be. “Why did- why did we come up this staircase again?”, Rey groans, muscles screaming in protest at the thought of pushing this bookcase all the way along the residential corridor, filled with lamps and plain artworks to the extent of it looking like the corridor of a chain hotel. She hears a muffled sigh from the other side of the landing they're stranded on, before Finn walks around to her, offering her a hand, which she glares at for a second before bracing herself and standing unaccompanied. “We have half a flight to go. Come on,” comes her soft voice, lightly slapping Finn's still outstretched hand. He laughs, walks back, and they begin to push the bookcase up. Slowly they progress upward, Rey pushing forward and Finn pulling at the top, before it levels out at the top. Both utter soft cheers, taking a short break before dragging it down the corridor. “God, I hate this,” Rey grumbles, teeth clenched from the strain of the bookcase: “you think I love it?” comes Finn's reply, obviously struggling more now.
Eventually they make it to room 12B, Finn fumbling for the key in his pocket whilst Rey, again, struggles not to collapse against the bookcase. It's at that moment that the door opposite- 10B- opens, the occupant looking in a tired daze before stopping abruptly and blinking at the obstacle in front of him. Poe Dameron, stubbly with dark hair and chestnut-coloured eyes, instead of attempting to nudge past the bookcase to get to the store for some milk, simply mumbles “what the fuck”, turns around, and walks back into his room, closing the door with a snap. That jerks Rey properly awake, and stops Finn from staring at the space where brown eyes met his for a split second. They push the bookcase in, wedge it into its place next to the door, and sit on the floor for a while before forcing themselves back up again to do it all over again with the bedframe. Rey wishes she could lift them all with her mind.
Finn Olori does not catch another sighting of Poe Dameron for another three days.
Rey is here with her family. Aunt Leia and Uncle Luke have helped her move her things into room 28B, and its layout is simplistic and gorgeous. D'Qar is small enough to have three numbered residential blocks, each student with their own room. The bedrooms are admittedly quite cramped, but that complaint does not hold much fire considering that there are no roommate squabbles. They are simple, a double bed in the corner, a desk next to it, a living room and kitchenette, an ensuite bathroom, a wardrobe. White walls and beige carpets. Rey loves it, and has kept to the theme of minimalism that the college seems to emit to her. There are plant pots sitting on her windowsill, heather and gladiolus flowers blooming alongside smooth rose quartz crystals littered along it. The cabinets and bookcase that Rey has dragged with her are made of some sort of material that looks like driftwood, given to her by Luke. There is a sapphire crystal perched atop the shelving unit immediately adjacent to the door. Rey has never been more in love with her bedroom, content to have escaped the relative chaos of her teenage room back home. There were marks in the wallpaper from where posters had once been tacked up, a messy pinboard, screws from where old ornaments had been removed only to have never been replaced. Her textbooks took up all her space along with messily scribbled homework, essays she had never handed in. She breathes in, taking in the scent of new bedroom, and feels at peace, slumping down onto her bed: then she gets out her phone and texts Finn, asking how his room is coming along. After laying down properly her phone pings and she opens the reply, her screen displaying a grinning picture of Finn with his room all set up, sweat beading on his forehead. She softly smiles, shoots him back a quick Nice! Will be over soon x, and closes her eyes, settling in to take a quick nap.
Finn's room is the dictionary definition of a polar opposite to Rey's. His old rooms did not envy much in the way of decoration and homeliness, and so he decided to go all out, a kaleidoscope of colours splashed all over. His bedsheets are a gorgeous cerulean, cabinets white but handles a haphazard mix and match of mustard yellow and bright red. It looks exactly like what he assumes a childhood bedroom is supposed to, not metal walled and plain and medical smelling and horrible- no, let's not go there, he scolds himself- and he is slightly in love with it. He has plans to replace the translucent shower curtain after a second trip to IKEA, and maybe get some new decorations as well. For now, all he has is a cobalt crystal that Luke pressed into his hand as they got out of the moving truck, one that matches Rey's, which he has chosen to put on one of the shelves of the bookcase until he finds somewhere more permanent for it. He wonders, briefly, what his neighbour's room looks like- he cannot even begin to place a solid guess on it, but based on his appearance he assumes it is snug, cosy, homely. Finn shrugs off the misplaced and silly urge to see it, settling instead to Google an essential grocery list and check his bank account, slowly writing up what he'll need for the next week.
After ten minutes of honestly mindless searching Finn slowly peels off his jumper- green, red, yellow, black, and white, oversized- and leans back onto his bed, rubbing his eyes to try and stop himself from being so damn tired. The drive there from Rey's place was only three hours, and he had been content to sit there watching the scenery go past, one headphone in and listening to his travel playlist, and absorbing the pleasant hum of quiet conversation and the engine of the truck. Finn forces himself to stand and leave the comfort of his bed behind for a while to go to the store; the more he'd written on his list, the hungrier he'd gotten, and it had ended up winning over the lazy comfortability of the bed in the glow of the sunlight.
He ignores the sick feeling in his stomach that he always gets in convenience stores, with their blank, white, numbness. He can't acknowledge that right now.
Poe has still not surfaced from his room, too comfortable on his bed to be bothered to get up. He needs to go to the store- he's on his fifth cup of coffee today and he's out of milk. With a scoff he realises that he really is the epitome of a tortured arts student, sitting in a cushy apartment and looking depressed, not moving for hours at a time. His Fender taunts him across the room, a gorgeous walnut wood stratocaster that is just begging to be played. Poe is in full knowledge that his major is going to be considerably more difficult this year. He can't just coast his way through with that winning grin he employs when he needs to, even though his conscience is cleared about it now; he loves his course but some of his music professors last year were too demanding for his tastes. At the thought of having to write more essays, Poe audibly groans and slowly shifts his view to look at his laptop. He sends a quick curse to- well, whoever, he guesses- for his laziness and tries to come up with some ideas for his writing this year. Nothing. “Damn it,” he mumbles, dragging himself up whilst resolving to clean his room. He's been here for two days and already it looks shabby and horrible- it's a futile effort when he knows that it's going to look the same in another two days, but it's something to do. He's not about to have the motivation to go to the store, no matter how much he's begun to crave a sixth cup of coffee, so he may as well.
It takes Poe a good part of three hours to tidy properly, pride bubbling in his chest. The room's organisation is pleasing, and the order matches the aesthetic he spent the whole of the summer working on. Tan and burgundy works for his olive skin, and goes with that jacket his father had given him; buttery leather, toffee with a dark red trim, comfortable. Said jacket is hanging on the door with pride, matching so well with the rest of his room that it ties it together. Humming a quiet tune, Poe turns his attention to the kitchenette, his stomach suddenly grumbling at such a volume that he can't help but chuckle at himself. For a second he has the urge to make himself a nice, wholesome meal- noodles, or something his mother used to make- but when he opens his fridge he realises that that's just not going to happen, and he settles for a peanut butter sandwich instead. It's good enough, he reckons to himself, and it tastes good too.
Poe Dameron sits in his kitchenette, mundanely eating the sandwich, and hopes to himself that his second year at D'Qar goes well.