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Orym sighs when he reaches his dorm room. It's eight at night on a fucking Wednesday, and a sock is balled up on the door handle. Typical. He sighs, sliding down the wall beside the door, his fingertips flicking at the grainy carpet in the hallway. Orym knew that when he started his travels, when he moved to the city, he'd see all types, but he never expected Dariax.
It's just his rotten luck that his first roommate is a very annoying, very intriguing dwarf. Who seems to be almost too good with the ladies. Who seems to be a little homophobic. Dariax really isn't that bad, he's good at starting conversation and he's funny when he isn't trying too hard, and he seems to not mind how picky Orym can be. He's just been a little... abrasive towards Orym and Dorian. It's fine. It's whatever.
The door across the hall opens, and Opal looks down at him, the human giving him a sympathetic look. Her quick eyes dart to the handle and back to his small form.
"Oh, you don't look great." She says, reaching a hand out to help him up. He's pulled up all at once, she's much stronger than she looks and he's short as all hell. He stumbles into her legs, nearly knocking her back.
"Thanks." He huffs, leaning back down to grab his book bag. Opal sighs, placing her hand on his back, gently pushing him towards her room. Inside the room, Fearne is curled up on her bed, a book on her lap. She looks up and gives him a little wave as he walks in.
"Why do you let him kick you out all the time?" Opal asks, sitting on her bed to unbuckle her massive heels. Orym puts his bag on her desk and sits in her chair, pulling his knees up to his chest.
"It's his room too. What am I supposed to do? Break down the door?" He mutters. He just wants his own bed. Orym's body and movement class just about killed him today, his professor thinks that all bodies should be able to do the same movements. His halfling structure has a hard time replicating the gentle movements of a spry elf or the cunning form of a tiefling, but he does his best.
"You could set boundaries." Fearne suggests, setting her book down. He sighs, putting his chin on his knees.
"How do I even start a conversation like that? Hey man, sorry, but could you not do it so often? I need to sleep." He picks at the polish on his nails. Dorian had picked a pretty green colour the last time he painted them. They're starting to chip.
"Yes." Fearne nods, "just ask him to take it somewhere else."
Orym would, but every time he tries to have a conversation with Dariax that isn't all just fun and jokes his palms get sweaty and all he can think of is that pretty smile and soft red hair and how Dariax is only a little taller than him so their hands would fit together well and then he's a mess.
"You could stay here tonight! I wanted to practice eyeliner on Fearne but her eyes are too sensitive!" Orym casts a quick glance to the satyr, who shakes her head quickly, her eyes wide.
"No, no, he usually uh... isn't that long. I can go get a coffee or something and then go home."
"Are you sure?" Opal's eyebrows wiggle.
"Positive."
-
Dorian's sharp eyebrow raises as Orym hunches into the seat across from him, the triton looking up from his laptop.
"Hello to you too." He says, picking up his mug for a drink. They're in one of the cafeteria restaurants that's not technically a Second Cup for branding purposes, but it's like... obviously a Second Cup. Oyrm's tea is still being made, or his name was called and he just didn't hear it. At this point, he's not sure he cares.
"Sorry. I'm tired. I don't feel great." Orym complains, and Dorian reaches out for his forehead, pressing a blessingly cool hand against his skin. Even without a headache, the triton's wet skin feels nice.
"You don't feel warm." Dorian says, gently taking his hand back, wiping Orym's forehead sweat off on a napkin on the table.
"Just long practice and Dariax taking over the dorm." Orym complains as Dorian's bottom lip pulls down in a scowl.
"Again? I mean, I get some but... that guy is getting some." Dorian mutters, then slides a pair of soggy earbuds across the table. "A composition for class, a piece that's supposed to be calming to you. It's mostly flute and piano, I don't know if it's missing something? Maybe an ocarina harmony with the flute?"
"I'll give it a listen if you get my tea?"
"Sure, buddy." Orym appreciates this friendship. He loves being friends with the girls from across the hall, but having another guy friend who is also queer is a different thing all together. He's never wanted to date Dorian, he'd never think about it, but it's nice to have someone to talk to about boys and tell him about the greater fineries in life and not feel like a token gay best friend.
Dorian rises from the table as Orym wipes the earbuds off. He closes his eyes and leans his upper body onto the table, regretting sitting in a human sized chair rather than one for smaller races. The music is soft and lilting with a buzz under it that feels wildly unfamiliar to him, but with being from Zephrah, the music that tends to calm him is more acoustic guitar and gentle drum beats and the occasional flute or harp. Dorian is right, an ocarina would sound nice. He's acutely aware of Dorian setting his tea under his nose, the warm chai scent cupping Orym's face, but he focuses until the gentle piano rings it's last note before he opens his eyes.
"It's really nice. What about... what about an oboe?"
"An oboe? Where?" Dorian asks, yanking on one of the earbud cords to listen with Orym, starting the song over again. He huddles over Orym's shoulder, facing the laptop towards them so Orym can read the sheet music. He's never been musically inclined, but Orym knows enough about sheet music from his years of dance to understand what he's looking at. When the flute starts playing longer notes, ones that feel a bit hollow, Orym hums lightly, just loud enough that his friend will hear it over the gentle ambiance of the not-a-Second-Cup.
"Oh. Yeah, I like that." Dorian says, reaching over Orym to mark into his music. He drops his chin onto the crown of the halfling's head, making his hair a little moist. Orym doesn't mind, instead reaching for his tea to take a deep drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dariax staring at him, a disposable cup in his hand. Distantly, Orym wonders how long his lady friend was over, how long he's been here, staring at him, glaring daggers into Dorian whenever the triton mutters something quietly.
Orym waves. Dariax smiles and waves back, his coffee splashing all over his shirt, his arm, the floor. Even from here, he can hear the dwarf swearing and apologizing to the staff, throwing napkins at the spill on the floor, wiping at the paper with his foot, barely catching himself from slipping in said spill.
-
Dariax's alarm goes off before Orym's on Thursday mornings. It's not the worst thing usually, Dariax has a nine am lecture he rarely goes to and Orym has a ten am class that he needs to be limber for. Today, however, Orym still feels the heavy weight in his bones from his movement class. His back cracks, releasing some of the tension as he sits up. Dariax huffs and snoozes his alarm, rolling back over in his bed. Dariax doesn't use a pillow case and his bed is covered in extra clothes. Just looking at it stresses Orym out.
"Hey. You should probably get up." Orym stage-whispers after the third time Dariax presses snooze.
"Hm? What? Oh, nah, I just won't go. I'm doing fine in that class anyway." The dwarf says, but he sits up, combing his hair back with his fingers.
"Suit yourself." Orym says, getting out of bed. His routine in the morning is this: get up, make the bed. Go pee, brush teeth, eat a granola bar, brush teeth again. Journal for ten minutes. If he has a class that's taxing on his body, he limbers up then he gets dressed, packs his bag, and leaves with at least an extra ten minutes to get to his class in case anything happens on his way there. He makes it through most of this routine before Dariax really seems to wake to the world.
He's in one legged downward dog pose, his left leg raised high up when Dariax makes a sound out of his throat.
"Hey, uh, what are you doing? And do you have to do it here?" He asks, his voice a little higher than usual. Orym doesn't break pose.
"Stretching before I go to class. I could do it there instead if it really bothers you." He suggests, his mind flashing back to Fearne saying that they need to set boundaries. Maybe doing yoga in the apartment is a boundary for Dariax.
"Uh, no, no it's fine. I just, no it's okay." He chuckles, reaching to the floor to grab a dirty sweater, pulling it over his torso. Orym struggles to not shudder.
"Okay." Orym switches from downward dog onto his back, then raises an arches himself into a bridge pose, his knee popping as he rises. Dariax makes a high noise and flings himself out of bed.
"Just gonna- I gotta get to class." He rushes out the door. Orym drops pose and looks towards Dariax's desk, where his textbooks and laptop are still piled amounst the garbage.
-
"So, what? You think he's homophobic?" Dorian asks, not looking up from the task at hand. They're both on Orym's twin bed, the halfling's hands being used by Dorian for nail-art purposes yet again. Orym really has to learn to say no to people.
"I mean... let's look at the evidence. He locks me out of the room all the time, he doesn't seem to like when you're here, he freaked out when I did yoga in the dorm, and he sleeps in a bed that literally has a muffin wrapper on it." Orym lists off. Dorian finally raises his head to look at the aforementioned muffin wrapper, his nose wrinkling.
"Well, that's certainly something."
"I really like him as a person, I just..." Orym shrugs.
"Listen, I like him too. If you think he's going to be shitty though..."
"But he's not, he just gets weird sometimes and leaves, or looks at me weird, he's not actually bad."
"So, I added the oboe in-" Orym's happy for the change of subject and more than happy to listen to his friend babble about his interests, Dorian's cold fingers gently moving Orym's smaller ones to get the paint everywhere, painting on tiny fireworks. They don't look amazing, but that's just fine by him.
When Dorian starts the second hand, the door creaks open, Dariax shuffling in. His body stiffens when he sees the two of them on the bed and his eyes widen for a second.
"Sorry, sorry! Just gonna grab my stuff and I'll be out of your hair! I didn't mean to interrupt!" Dariax beelines for his desk, digging through until he finds a small wrench and some duct tape. Dorian's eyebrows crease.
"Where are you going?"
"Oh, Opal and I are going to go take down road signs and put them back on upside down. You two wanna come?" He looks at Orym with an unreadable expression on a usually so readable face. He looks down at his nails.
"I think we're okay here, I'm not one for vandalism."
"Cool, cool, cool." He says, just before he shuts the door, Dariax calls back out, "put a sock on the knob next time!"
The door slams. Dorian and Orym look at each other before bursting out laughing.
-
On Sunday night, Dariax comes back to the dorm earlier than usual. Orym's sitting up on his bed, re-watching Thor: Ragnarok again, kneading uselessly at a knot in his thigh. Dariax steps into the room, drops his stuff, and lays down on the mess that is his bed.
"Are you okay?" Orym asks after pausing the movie.
"I'm great. Woke up in a bathtub this morning, ate cat food for breakfast, walked out of the house to find out I was a two hour walk away." His voice is slightly muffled by the sheetless pillow.
"That sounds horrible." Orym says, pulling his knees up.
"Oh no, that was actually all pretty cool. I just didn't have any shoes to walk back in." Dariax flips so he's facing up then reaches down to grab his foot. The bottom is red and raw for a moment before he casts Cure Wounds.
"You could have texted me. Dorian has a car, we could have some to get you."
"You don't need to ask your boyfriend to do stuff for me." Dariax sighs, and Orym freezes.
"What's your problem, dude?"
"I don't have a problem."
"No, every time I mention anything about, y'know, gayness or Dorian or yoga you get all weird."
"I don't! I just think you and your boyfriend should keep it between you guys!" His voice sounds oddly gummy.
"He's not my boyfriend." Orym grunts and Dariax looks up at him, eyes wide.
"What?"
"Dorian. He's not my boyfriend. Gay people are allowed to have gay friends." Dariax swings his legs over the side of his bed.
"So this whole time..."
"Yeah." Orym crosses his arms over his chest, "if me being gay is a problem we can get a room switch. Dorian has a straight roommate too." Might as well cut this off before it gets worse, before this crush consumes him despite the fact Dariax does not, and could not, like him back.
"Straight.. I'm not straight!" Dariax shouts, standing up, "What? Why would you think that?"
"All the girls you have here? Sheetless bed? Flannels? You wear plastic rimmed sunglasses!" Orym stands, looking up at Dariax.
"I'm a mess! A very very bi mess!" He yells, hands flying about in an odd display. Orym is too worked up to think properly right now.
"Then what's your problem with me?" Orym demands. He's almost offended, he's never done anything to Dariax to make him not like him, especially not if Dariax is also queer.
"I don't have a problem with you! I had one with him!" Dariax says, his hands raising and lowering like he can't figure out what to do with them.
"What?"
"Dorian. I had a problem with him because I thought you two were together."
"Oh." Orym says, and Dariax looks down. There's only about a foot of space between them, Orym now realizes. He didn't notice Dariax moving closer towards him.
"Sorry, yeah, it's stupid, I just-"
"What was the issue with us being together?"
"I, uh, I kinda... listen, you're hot as fuck, man. The sleeve and the flexibility and the good hair and the face scar and-" Dariax starts to ramble. Orym loves to hear him speak, usually, but his voice has a stress to it that freaks him out a little. Orym gently places his hand on Dariax's cheek, his thumb tickling with the wiry hair of his beard.
"Dariax-"
"And like I know that you're all high strung all the time, and we're totally different people-"
"Dariax."
"I'm being stupid but I was having people over to make you want to move out, sometimes I didn't even have anyone here." Orym drops his hand and tries to take a step back, but his knees buckle under the press of his mattress, forcing him to stand.
"You what? I have been sexiled from my room for weeks and some of the time it wasn't real?"
"Listen. I can explain. I just..." He trails off, his hand gesturing to nothing. Orym crosses his arms over his chest, pointing his chin up at Dariax.
"I'm going to need a better explanation than than."
"I really really like you but I thought you were with Dorian and it sucked to see you two together so I started bringing girls back here or putting a sock on the door and playing porn really loud so you could hear it if you put your ear to the door."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Orym chuckles, and Dariax smiles sheepishly.
"Yeah, I know. Sorry."
"So you, uh, you like me?" Orym asks, blush rising up to his freckled cheeks.
"I won't be weird about it or anything but, like, yeah."
"Can I kiss you?" He asks, cheeks burning in a moment of confidence. Dariax nods.
The kiss is messy and it's perfect. Orym has never liked mess before, but they don't know which way to turn and Dariax's beard is a little uncomfortable and he smells just like Cheez-its which is very distracting and Orym isn't sure if Dariax casts Bless on him or if kissing him just feels this good. He pulls away, his hands dropping to Dariax's waist.
"Uh..." Dariax looks like his brain just reset.
"We'll talk later. Want to watch Tom Hiddleston in a bodysuit?" Orym asks, settling on his bed, leaving space beside him. Dariax settles into it. Orym's tired, and he's sore, and he gives himself the time to watch a movie twice a week. He needs this.
"Who's Tom Hiddleston?" Orym looks at him, through him, into him.
"Oh, you have so much to learn." He kisses him again.