Chapter Text
Type never asked for much. He only wanted a nice roommate that keeps his stuff in order. What did he get? Well…
He’s late to his dorm because they had problems with the car. His dad only dropped him and his stuff quickly to go and get it fixed, so Type had to manage to carry all his luggage by himself to the second floor of the dorm. His roommate must be here already, judging by the sounds he can hear behind the door. He knocks, just in case, and opens it a moment later.
He’s welcomed by a literal chaos, clothes everywhere on the floor and a guitar on the bed close to the window. A tall guy sits on the floor, rummaging through a clean plastic bag of things that look like a toothbrush and toothpaste, along with some other things. All he can see is a mop of black hair, until the boy raises his head.
“Oh, hi, I didn’t hear you!” he says with a strident voice.
Before Type can say something back, he’s up from the floor and closer to him.
“I’m Tharn, first-year student. I’m studying music.”
His hand goes for a handshake, one that Type reciprocates.
“I’m Type, I’m a first year too. I’ll be studying Marketing.”
That’s when the mess began. Tharn is a nice guy, Type can’t take that away from him. He is nice, he asks Type if he needs anything from the store whenever he goes, he offers to share food, he even is considerate of Type and doesn’t practice guitar when Type asks him not to.
The only problem is that Type hates him. His utter existence is a mystery to Type, how can a person like Tharn exist? He can’t cook to save his life, he is so messy that Type gets a headache just by looking at his side of the room. He leaves puddles of water whenever he uses the bathroom, dirty towels everywhere, his toothpaste, shampoo and washing gel all without caps. He would rather use paper plates than wash an actual one.
And the flirting, god, the flirting. Type found out about Tharn's sexuality the first night they shared under the same roof. Tharn was talking on the phone with one of his friends about some performance when he mentioned an ex-boyfriend. And even if he wouldn’t have found out that night, he would surely have the next ones. Tharn can’t help but flirt with every existing creature that’s male. Including him.
He is not homophobic, he has no problem with the fact that his roommate is gay; only that he can’t spend 5 seconds without saying something that can be interpreted as “I want to get in your pants”. Romance is not his thing, nor are relationships, so Tharn’s constant flirting and gushing over boys is very strange to him. Type doesn’t understand that feeling you need to have to like someone so much you’d spend all the time with them, or do silly embarrassing acts for them.
“Can you stop flirting with me for 5 seconds and pick up your dirty socks from the floor? Tharn, they’ve been there for days!” he shouts one day, after a certain flirty line from Tharn.
The boy sighs, his mouth forming a straight line. He gets up from the chair and goes to take his socks from the corner of the room. God, he had a pair there too?
“I actually meant the ones from under the window…” Type adds half heartily, looking after his mess of a roommate picking up dirty clothes from the floor.
“You’re literally worse than my mom,” the other says, sniffing a t-shirt to see if he can wear it again or he needs to wash it. “at least she picked up them for me when she got sick of waiting after me.”
“I am not going to pick up your dirty clothes, you idiot!”
Tharn and Type can get along, most of the time. Type can ignore Tharn’s flirting (because he knows the guy is not actually interested in him, anyway) and Tharn can ignore Type’s crankiness five days out of seven. There are times when they can’t, however, avoid arguments. If Type is especially irascible and Tharn is trying to push himself in a good mood, things get ugly. Heated arguments that end up with Techno and Jay there, Techno dealing with an angry Type while Jay is trying to calm a mad Tharn down.
They usually say sorry the next day or the one after that, don’t talk for a week (that’s when Tharn has to make a remark about how ‘ready to fuck a bitch up’ Type looks as he prepares to leave for class or when Type has to tell Tharn to wash his towels because they’re all stacked up in the bathroom) and then go back to their usual selves.
Most of the time, Type and Tharn work out, somehow.
The only activity they do together, as roommates, is eating tom yum on the floor (on Type’s part of the room, Tharn’s too dirty) while reading posts on the university forum. Most of the discussions are about couples, or about people looking for lovers, gossips about some IC kids and their families and where all the money comes from. Both of them find the gossip childish and irrelevant, and they mostly comment about the poster not minding their own business.
“I don’t get all these dating posts… Why would you be interested in another people’s relationship?” Type asks, after seeing yet another post about some popular people forming a couple.
“They either love to gossip or they’re just jealous they don’t have someone to go on dates with.”
Tharn responds while munching on a shrimp. Type would try to tell him not to talk with food in his mouth, but he gave up long ago.
“I also don’t get the whole ‘date’ thing. Why are people so excited to go to dates? What is so special about them?”
He has this question for a while. He was never on a date, nobody asked him and he never liked someone in order to ask them on a date. He saw couples every day, holding hands and stealing kisses when they think no one is watching, giving presents to each other, but he never understood the excitement behind it.
“Go with me to the movies this Saturday and I’ll show you.”
Type looks at Tharn, expects to see the guy hiding a laugh, or having a too serious face that gives away the fact that he’s joking. Instead, Tharn is smirking softly at him, looking him in the eyes, and he seems very serious about his offer.
And Type accepts it.
Tharn takes the date way too serious. Type wakes up on Saturday to a text from him, telling him to be ready at 12, to dress nicely and that they’re going to eat first. He thought he’s just going to the cinema, watch a movie and listen to Tharn’s never-ending pick-up lines. He intended in wearing sweatpants, actually.
It’s only 10 when he gets out of bed, going to take a very long shower to prepare him for the mess of a day it will be. He takes his time, stretching and exfoliating, brushing his teeth and styling his hair. It’s past 11:30 when he gets out of the bathroom and starts looking for clothes. He picks a black pair of pants and a t-shirt. He wanted to wear a button-up, but he changed his mind.
He plays on his phone until there is knocking on the door. When he opens it, Tharn is in front of him, flowers in his hand and a huge smirk of his face. Type is speechless for a few moments, trying to understand the reason behind the flowers and Tharn’s button-up (is it new? Type never seen it before). Sensing the confusion, Tharn explains:
“I want to do it right, ok? Just take these, that’s how a first date should go.”
Type takes the flowers (and they’re beautiful and smell nice, maybe he gets why people like them) and puts them in the first glass he finds, filling it with water from the bathroom. He puts them on his desk, admiring them for one more second before going back to the door where Tharn is waiting for him.
“Ready to go?” the boy asks him, and honestly, Type is anything but ready (he nods nonetheless).
Turns out, Tharn really took the date seriously. They go out to eat at a nice restaurant (different from the street ones they usually go to when it’s late and both of them are hungry), and he tells Type he can get anything he wants since it’s on Tharn.
“Why?” is everything Type can ask after the waiter takes their order.
“Well, judging by your pure hate for romance, I came to the conclusion that a. you liked someone a lot and they refused you, b. you had an ex that was a huge asshole and they treated you badly or c. you simply never were treated to a nice date. So I’m giving you one.”
Tharn had three fingers raised, each representing a point he made. Type almost wanted to break all of them.
After they finish eating they go to the cinema, Tharn picked the movie (he paid for the tickets, too, and Type kind of wants to ask him if he can pay for something too). It is an action one, and it seems it’s not really new since the movie theater is almost empty.
It’s dark, and Tharn’s thigh is glued to his. At one point, the other boy starts moving, and he suddenly feels a warm weight on his shoulders. Tharn’s arm. He looks at his roommate only to see him smile softly, the same damned smirk.
“It’s a more authentic date this way, don’t question it. Are you uncomfortable?” He whispers, but the last part is asked in a worried tone, Type observes, like Tharn cares if he is uncomfortable or not.
He could work with this, he thinks, so he forms a quiet “no” with his mouth. He could work with this.
Type offers to buy drinks after the movie, and Tharn finally accepts it after some insistence. They are at a café, still at the mall, and Type orders an iced americano for him and a chai latte for Tharn. It’s late, but Type is always down for coffee.
“I still don’t understand how you can drink coffee at night and still sleep after that.” His companion says when they find an available table, away from most of the people there.
“I guess it’s a habit from high school.” Type responds, sipping from his bitter drink (another thing Tharn won’t get).
Tharn nods, playing with the straw. He’s thinking of something to say to end this day, and it’s one of the few times he finds it hard to choose his words. It’s one too many of those for Type.
“I really hope you had a great time today,” he starts, “I really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”
“You didn’t,” Type responds a little too fast, “it was fine, don’t worry.”
He was skeptical of this whole date thing, but he guesses he was afraid of nothing.
“It was fun, to be honest.”
A smile appears on Tharn’s face, not the usual smirk he too often does, but a really innocent and genuine one.
“I’m happy you had fun… I just wanted to, I guess, show you that romance can be fun? I mean, there are people that just don’t go with romance and love and relationships, and you might be one of them, I don’t know, but I also didn’t want you to live without knowing what a date is supposed to be like, you know…” He was talking too much, but again, when didn’t he?
Type can't help but to listen, starting to blush a little, because Tharn really sounds sincere.
“I don’t know the reason you don’t fuck with romance or relationships, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but… yeah… I don’t really know where I was going with this.” He ends by scratching the back of his head, taking a too large sip of his drink to shut his mouth up.
“Ihaveneverbeenonadate.” Type says fast, too fast for Tharn to quite catch the words.
“What?” He asks back, confusion all over his face.
“I’ve never been on a date.” Type says again, more clearly. “No one ever asked me and I never liked anyone enough to ask them on one too.”
He doesn’t know why he’s so ashamed suddenly, because up until today he was perfectly fine living with this fact.
Tharn’s mouth forms an “o”, and Type tried to avoid his eyes, feeling his face getting hotter. Is it really weird that he didn’t go on a date up until now, at 19?
“Well, that’s fine.” Tharn ends the topic. “Now you know how a date should be.”
When Type wakes up the next day, he’s alone. He remembers Tharn saying he’ll wake up early to go home for a day. He looks at his bed, unmade like always. He sighs and covers his head with the thin blanket, choosing to sleep for some more.
When he wakes up for good, it’s already noon. It’s weird for him to sleep so much, but again, it’s weird for him to spend most of his Saturday doing something other than homework. Talking about homework, he has some to do since he hasn’t done anything yesterday.
He gets out of bed, looking around the room. Tharn’s side has his clothes and shoes on the floor. Really, the only thing that guy takes care of is his guitar, sitting in its bag next to the window. He sighs, looking at his desk where he knows he has his notebooks.
He sees the flowers, still alive, even though the colors are not as vibrant as yesterday. He should change their water, maybe he’ll be able to keep them alive for a few days. He’s sure there’s a thing you can put in the water to help them live longer.
Why is he doing all of this, though? They are just flowers, he found them silly until yesterday. Even when his dad brought home flowers for his mother, he never quite understood it. They will die anyway, so he didn’t understand why his mother would care for them so much.
Maybe he gets it now. How it feels to be given something from someone without any other intention. Sure, he gets giving things to people who need them, like clothes or food to poor people. But he never understood buying things for people you… love? Things they don’t need, like flowers or plush toys or presents. It wasn’t their birthday.
He never understood it until he got something. And it made him feel… good. It made him feel not particularly happy, but something inside him got warmer. And, finally, he got why people like dates and romance. They were fun, he has to admit. It was fun to spend time with another person and do something, talk, and laugh. And know that it was supposed to be a ‘date’. That a person likes you enough to spend their money and time on you to let you have fun.
The Tharn he knows inside this room and the Tharn he saw yesterday were not the same. Or maybe they were, just different faces of the same coin. The Tharn that can be annoying to no end can be funny and kind too. He never thought of more, never thought of even doing it, but now that he does…
He felt good yesterday. He felt really good, even though he can’t explain all the things he felt. Embarrassment? No, he wasn’t embarrassed. He was flustered, a little, by all the attention he was getting. And also by Tharn’s touches. The arm across his shoulders, or the hand on his waist when they were in line to get coffee, the subtle hand touching on their way home…
Romance, love, relationships…
Maybe he wants to try them, after all. Maybe he wants to try them with Tharn.
Another thing they do as roommates is drinking on a Friday night when they’re both free.
It’s a Friday night and both of them have nothing to do, so alcohol is involved. Tharn bought it. They never got as drunk as they are now, though. Type’s feels his head so heavy he has to lean on his bed. Tharn is in front of him, he has a better tolerance (which means he can hold his body on his own, not that his thoughts are any clearer than Type’s).
It’s been a week since they went on that date and Type might have figured out he might have some kinda feelings for his roommate. His messy, chaotic, annoying and flirty roommate. That never actually stopped flirting with him, too. But that was all, to Type’s disappointment. Tharn never did anything past the endless pickup lines. Type almost feels that he was just testing them on him so he can use them on other guys. He doesn’t want to admit that what he feels is jealousy, it isn’t.
He’s just… sick of being alone. The alcohol is telling him things he doesn’t want to believe (he knows they are true).
“Am I that hard to be loved?” he asks no one in particular, certainly not Tharn, even though the boy is the only other person in the room. Maybe he was asking himself.
“Whadd ya mean?” Tharn’s words are slurred, a sign he drank a little too much.
“I’ve never had someone to really love me, you know.” Type has difficulty in speaking himself. “I don’t know if I liked someone so much to call it love, too… Am I hard to be loved?” He considers taking another sip from the bottle or no, and opts for no.
“Maybe… ya have that air ‘round you like… you’re not intr’sted. Maybe people like ya but you just… don’t see it…” Tharn says this looking down, and Type can’t figure if he does it because he’s tired or he doesn’t want to look him in the eye.
“I want to… try it. I want to be loved. And to love back that person.” He means it.
Tharn is looking at him, his eyes focused, despite all the alcohol he had. It’s like he just woke up.
“Do you mean a certain person? Or just anyone?” He asks, his eyes never leaving Type’s.
And Type can’t help but hold his stare, even with his head leaned on the bed.
“Maybe… maybe I have a certain someone… in my mind…” he whispers, but Tharn heard him, because now he is getting closer.
But not close enough. He’s inches away from Type and it’s still not enough.
“Which ‘someone’?”
His words are no more slurred together, they’re clear, like his eyes. He has really pretty eyes, Type observes. And really pretty lips, too. That are very close to his.
He mutters “you”, and he doesn’t get to close his mouth because Tharn’s lips are on his, finally, and they’re soft and warm. Type has no idea how to kiss someone, he never did, but Tharn did it enough, and he finds it easy to follow him.
He doesn’t know what kissing is supposed to feel like, but if it’s supposed to make you feel like floating and like your stomach is flipping, like your arms and legs are falling asleep and like your head is suddenly empty, then he feels all of it. And Tharn’s hands on his cheek and at the back of his neck, hot like lava.
Tharn lets go first, but his hands are still there, still burning Type’s skin.
“I mean it.” He says, and his lips are pink and swollen, and Type thinks he even bit him at some point, judging by the red spot on his lower lip.
“Me too.” He replies, and he knows he’s drunk, but he means everything he said and everything he did.
So Tharn kisses him again, slower this time, taking his time, and it’s softer, but Type still feels like he’s floating. He’s dragged in his bed, and Tharn is slightly over him, his body like a secure weight, anchoring Type in this room, under him, because he feels so weightless he could just float away. His hands are gentle, brushing Type’s hair out of his face, caressing his cheek, his neck, his arm. He doesn’t feel pathetic when he doesn’t know what do with his, just keeping them on Tharn’s shoulders.
They keep kissing, Type doesn’t know for how long, he doesn’t remember stopping or falling asleep. He only remembers Tharn’s lips, hands and scent.
Only remembers Tharn.