Chapter Text
"Wake up, sleepy head! Class is starting in 30 minutes and you don't want to be late again, will you?"
I tiredly rub my eyes and sigh. I look around and try to pinpoint where exactly I am.
An all too familiar face shoves into my field of sight and I growl.
"You need a haircut, dude. Your fringe is all over the place."
"So do you. Your hair is like some extraterrestrial form of living.", James replies smugly and offers me a cup of coffee. Strong, black and without a single gram of sugar. Just the way I like it.
"I'm so not ready for another of Iverson's lectures.", I mutter into the mug.
"Who is anyway?" He takes a seat next to me and shoves the blanket and pillow aside.
"Thanks for letting me crash on your couch again."
"No biggie. I get something out of this as well, remember?"
Yeah, a pleasant ride to campus on my tiny as fuck moped, but a moped is a moped, isn't it?
I empty my coffee with a big gulp and get up to disappear into the bathroom.
"Stealing my water again?", James shouts after me. I ignore him and shrug my shoulders. Where I crash, I shower. Simplest rule.
Ah, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Keith, I'm 19 and I moved to this little town called Nunville like three months ago. I'm an engineering student, freshman year.
Nunville is cute but a little boring. But nevermind, I came here to study anyway. The university is kinda famous though and getting in is hard. I live on scholarship money thanks to my uncle Kolivan forcing me to apply. 'Don't you go waste your talent!', he always said, because when I was little I took his old car apart and after he caught me in the act he taught me how to reassemble it. He taught me many things about vehicles of all kinds and I guess I just went with it after all.
There's a knock on the door and I'm pretty sure it's James who's gonna complain again that he needs to take a piss before we leave. Well, bad for him, he's not gonna do that as long as I take my morning shower. His fault for waking me this late.
When I come out 10 minutes later, hair still damp and a sloppily placed towel on my shoulder, he grids his teeth but says nothing.
"Bathroom's free.", I inform him and I get a devil's stare before he disappears with a very pained expression, because he apparently remembered his bladder was about to explode.
"Get'cha ass off my seat.", I bellow at James when we arrive at campus and he hushes away. His girl gang is already waiting for him and I'm not for the first time wondering if he's really hard pretending to be straight when he's clearly not. Not like I'm gonna spill his secret. I don't really care.
Class passes completely uneventful. Iverson's lesson is boring as always and I got a sharp glare when I entered the room with a spare 10 seconds before theoretical physics started, but he didn't say a thing. I keep my grades high and I deliver good practical work and that's all that matters. I don't really bother with people around me, I'm simply not interested. Study, eat, sleep, repeat. I don't even know why I still stick with James.
I met him during my first week and he immediately pissed me off putting his bag where I had just put my feet. He's a people pleaser, stick to rules kinda guy. No feet on the table. Blah blah.
We had a rocky start but I guess he isn't bad after all. Not my favourite person. But he exists.
I might caused him a blue eye the other week when he asked me if my mommy raised me to be a brat, his dumb face with a smug expression. A sweet fist helped erase that.
Maybe we showed up late to class after this and professors were asking what happened. Eating fist definetly wasn't good for both of our student files, so I told them he just got hit by a ball when crossing the basketball field and saved his dignity. (And myself from expulsion). Guess he was thankful for not ruining his reputation in front of everyone so he covered for me as well. Wouldn't have looked so cool to get his butt kicked by a nobody as the top student of the engineering branch.
We got used to encounters like that and at some point we simply lacked energy.
Iverson put us together so I could learn what discipline meant and have him as a study buddy. We both were fed up soon, so we went for pizza instead.
From that one we stuck together occasionally. Not getting on each others nerves was better than fighting all the time. Also his place was huge and had a plasma TV of ginormous size and bad sci-fi movies looked especially terrible on it. I loved terrible sci-fi movies and so did James.
We weren't even friends or anything. I don't suppose we are now. We're acquaintances. And that works for me.
Today, I finish early. It's a free period and with that luckily I'm done for today. So I find my moped and leave campus.
Often times after university I stop by that place called 'The Yard', a small milkshake bar in the southern district of Nunville. The owner is annoying, but their shakes are great, so I go there and study. They even serve lactose-free stuff, so how can I refuse?
While I drive I think about how much money I already spent there.
The answer is simple. Too much. I usually stay there for hours, watch the bar owner flirt with his costumers and review classes. It's refreshing not to sit in the crowded library and sometimes I get free shakes. Actually I get free shakes all the time, because when I fall asleep over my books and charts whenever I wake up, there is a fresh new glass of Iced Chocolate Coffee right in front of me.
I don't wanna know ow much I actually owe them.
I park my moped in the little parking lot opposite of the bar and check my jacket for my purse. Ugh, 4 dollars. Why is there always so much month left when your funds have already hit rock-bottom? I sigh in resignation, trying to prepare myself for only one round of Iced Chocolate Coffee instead of four. (Have I mentioned I spend too much money at this place?)
It's not as crowded as usual today, maybe because I'm a bit earlier. Their afternoon business blooms quite well from what I've experienced so far. Well, nice. So at least no one stole my favourite seat.
As I cross the street I notice a bike right next to the front entrance. And for a minute I stand there and stare.
Holy shit, it's beautiful.
Is this-?
It can't be!
I just can't help myself. I walk closer and let my fingertips wander across smooth, cool black metal. A Harley Davidson 1200 Custom. And it looks almost brand new.
Fuck, this thing costs a fortune.
There's no shame in admiring a beauty like that, right? Right?! One day I'll earn enough money to get one myself. One day. When I am a successful well-known engineer. (Yeah, right, Kogane. Keep dreaming.)
I side-eye my moped that is patiently waiting for me across the street and I can't help but pity myself now. Little old Molly looks pathetic compared to this bike.
As I finally manage to take my eyes off of the machine and want to enter The Yard, I notice a very familiar, very distinct smell. Motor oil.
The Harley was lacking and oil was dripping down its frame and pooled together into a little puddle down on the ground.
It is a mere reflex but I'm fumbling in my pocket for my tiny set of screwdrivers and a tissue, to wipe away the oil and check the machine with an attentive eye. It's not a big thing but it could be dangerous if not seen fast.
Without a second thought I start working on it and for a moment I forget it's not my bike right in front of me. I'm kneeling on the ground and I'm completely absorbed in my work when I hear a cough.
“And who might you be?”, a relatively high, snarly voice asks and I meet a pair of caramel brown eyes that stare me down into the ground.
I am left speechless. Because- what the hell could I reply?! I start to stammer, to get up and beat the dust out of my pants, fumbling for an explanation. I have non. Not a decent one and none proper enough to explain why I'm meddling with a motorbike that isn't mine.
“Boss!”, the girl shouts, about a head smaller than me, and turns around to gesture someone over.
The giant shadow on the ground tells me it's not anyone I should be messing around with. The guy is taller than me. Way taller. And he's probably very, very angry.
'Take a deep breath, Kogane.', I tell myself and nervousness turns my palms damp.
I am not even entirely back on my feet again when my eyes find a pair of black, probably expensive biker boots with strings and straps and the higher my eyes wander the more I start to sweat. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!
The man right in front of me is covered entirely in leather and long hair flows over his shoulders. Shiny black hair with a streak of white and a nasty scar right across his nose. He looks dangerous and every fibre in my nervous system is suddenly active and high on alert.
His silver-grey eyes are piercing right through me.
I'm probably very much doomed.
Maybe I should move to a different country, change my name to Chuck and try to never set a foot into this town again. And hope he doesn't find me anywhere.
“Your … oil tank ...”, I manage to produce but then go silent again. (Nice, Kogane. Very smooth!)
He doesn't say a word and as I try to escape his strong gaze I notice his entire built. His body looks strong and muscular, his white shirt maybe is a bit too tight for my own good. I gulp. (And forget to breathe for about a minute.)
He purses his lips and the sensual bob of his adam's apple as he swallows does no good for me.
“Boss??”, the little girl chimes. “Boss, are you okay???”
She pulls at the bottom end of his jacket and he snaps out of it. “Leave him be, Pidge.”, he commands her and even though she doesn't look happy at all she turns around and walks back to the bar.
“Your … oil tank lacks, sir.”, I repeat and I notice how hoarse I sound. My mouth is dry but at least I still have enough energy to wipe my oil-stained hands off on my pants and hastily excuse myself before he finds the time to actually kill me.
My milkshake is forgotten and I decide to hurry home. I had enough action today to focus and there's still adrenaline rushing through my veins when I finally collapse on my sofa.
The notification sound of my phone has me jumping.
>> Space Balls and nachos? <<, the message reads and I sigh.
Yeah, maybe that's exactly what I need after this day. A stupid movie and food.
>> Bring milkshakes <<, I reply and about twenty minutes it buzzes at my front door.
“Missed me?”, James stands there and winks with a lopsided grin.
“Shut 'ya face 'n come in.”