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It’s a Friday at three pm and there are people arguing right outside Roier’s fucking door.
Usually he wouldn’t care, but then again, usually he wouldn’t have a paper due at midnight tonight. And again, usually one of the voices doesn’t sound a little too startlingly familiar to one of his friends. He could ignore it, but it’s already broken his concentration. Roier pushes away from his desk with a sigh, stretching in his chair as each individual knob of his spine cracks disturbingly. He might as well check it out.
Roier steps out into the hallway, keys in hand, and he’s greeted with an unusual sight. It’s the building’s RA, Quackity (whom Roier unfortunately associates with), mid-argument with the hot Brazilian exchange student from down the hall (!!!). And look, Roier isn’t a gossip (despite what Jaiden might say), but he lets the door fall shut silently and stands stock still. Neither of them notice him, too absorbed in their squabble.
“Listen man, I know I heard it!”
“You didn’t hear anything.” Cellbit’s—Roier is pretty sure his name is Cellbit—eyes dart side to side. Whatever they’re talking about, Roier has a dawning feeling that he definitely did it.
“Look, if there really isn’t a cat in there, you can let me in.” Quackity smiles fake-sweet. “Then we can put this all behind us.” …A cat?
“Don’t I have a right to privacy?”
“Actually, you signed that away when you signed the dorm rules and regulations!” Quackity informs him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Just like when you agreed to section four, rule three: no goddamn pets!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have a cat.” Cellbit crosses his arms protectively and backs further into the door.
“Then let me in!”
“Man, I’m not hiding anything!” He protests.
“May I remind you that you do not have a choice.” At this, Quackity brandishes a keyring heavy with what looks like every single key to every room in the building. “Once I find the damn key to your room, it’s over!” And he starts flipping through the keys at a lightning pace.
A sudden determined look crosses Cellbit’s face, then he glances at his door, then Quackity. He clenches his fists. That’s when Roier realizes, Oh shit he’s going to try to beat up the fucking RA. Is this guy crazy?!
He probably is. Luckily, ah, what is that English meme? I love insane biddies? Yeah, now Roier has to fix this, somehow. Luckily he’s good at improvising.
“Ah, guys, what’s going on here?” Roier steps forward and both of their eyes snap toward him, Cellbit’s filling with hope and Quackity’s quickly darkening in anger.
“This guy,” And Quackity gestures at Cellbit aggressively, the keys clanking, “Is hiding a damn cat in his room. I fucking heard it meowing when I walked by.”
“Man you–!” Cellbit groans, running a hand through his (messy, two-toned) hair. He’s clearly agitated and clearly—to both Quackity and Roier—definitely hiding a cat in there. Still, Roier absolutely cannot let him get kicked out of the university before they’ve even had a conversation. He’s way too hot for that. And maybe a little insane, who knows. They’ll get there. Grasping at straws for an excuse, Roier just does what he does best: he opens his mouth and hopes for the best.
“Meowing?” Roier blurts. “No, man, that was me.”
There’s a delicate pause. Quackity’s expression absolutely crumbles.
“Roier, please.”
“No, no.” And he doubles down now, stepping closer. “Seriously, it was me! I don’t know why you are targeting this guy.” In his peripheral vision, Cellbit looks positively delighted. It just incenses him further.
“Roier, you’re not serious, no estás serio.” Quackity stares at him desperately, looking very much like his soul has left his body.
“Ah, no man, I am ah… I am a furry.”
Quackity throws his hands up in the air, looking back over at Cellbit, who begins nodding vigorously.
“Yeah, you heard him!” Cellbit gives Roier an encouraging look. “Man, I’ve even heard him… um, meowing. All the time, it’s crazy!”
Quackity looks back and forth between them, his expression slowly souring.
“Really? This is the hill you’re willing to die on?” Quackity directs this at Roier, who sticks his tongue out childishly.
“Listen, I was telling you.” Cellbit points at Roier, and Quackity just stares at him incredulously. “I do not have a cat. It’s just this crazy guy, man.”
“I can’t believe– Roier, please.” Quackity turns on Roier, begging him now. It is kind of funny. “No estás serio, wey.”
“Lo siento, Quackity.” Roier says solemnly. What is the English saying… hoes before bros? Quackity can get fucked. “Soy muy serio.”
“No mames, this fucking guy–fine! Fine, prove it!” Quackity catches his eye, a smug look coming over him. He crosses his arms. “Fucking meow for me, Roier.”
Shit…
Roier shoots a panicked glance toward Cellbit, who slowly turns his head toward Roier, a despondent look painting his features. Quackity takes this sudden silence as defeat and grins triumphantly.
“Well, if you don’t wanna prove it…” He dangles the keyring in front of Cellbit’s nose. “I guess I’ll–”
Roier abruptly drops to his hands and knees, fast. Quackity cuts himself off with a choked gasp. Cellbit’s eyes widen into saucers.
It’s for the dick, Roier thinks and he knows a bright red blush is staining his face, this is absolutely fine because it’s for the dick. Cellbit better appreciate this.
“Miaow.” For effect, he holds up one hand like a paw. Judging by Quackity’s look of shock, Roier and Cellbit have won this little disagreement. “Are you happy, cabrón? Want me to go get my fursuit–”
“No!” Quackity yells, putting his face in his hands. “No, no, no. I fucking hate you, Roier. I’m leaving. You won! I hope it was worth it!” With that, his face turning beet-red, he turns sharply on his heel and storms down the hallway.
Laughing, Roier calls at his back: “Todavía estamos para el sábado, ¿sí?”
Quackity screams back, “¡Sí!” just before the hallway door slams shut with a resounding crash. There’s a terse moment of silence. Roier turns to Cellbit, suddenly bashful now that Quackity isn’t standing in his way.
“Um, so.” Roier realizes he’s still on the floor and hastily scrambles to his feet. “Sorry! Um, I am not actually a furry. By the way. In case you… were wondering.”
“Ah, no I- I figured. Considering I definitely have a cat.” Cellbit laughs, a little breathlessly.
“Oh, good.” Roier lets out a sigh of relief. “Man! That was close! Quackity is scary, eh?”
“Yeah, yeah, um, you know him?”
“We’re… friends.” Roier—as casually as he can after that whole display—leans against the wall next to Cellbit. “Well, less about him, more about this cat, huh?” And Cellbit blushes (!!!), just a little. He’s got freckles and little white scars scattered all over his face. Oh yeah, this was definitely worth it. He’s pretty.
“Ah, you want to meet him?”
“Ah, man, I just embarrassed myself so you could keep him.” Roier laughs, the full weight of what he’s just done settling on him. Yikes. “That has to be– to be the price, yes?”
“Yeah, yeah, you can meet him!” And Cellbit turns back to his door, inserting a key in. “He’s super friendly, so he will like you. Ah, your name is Roier, right? I think I saw you at the floor meeting?”
“Yeah, man! You’re Cellbit?”
“Yes.” He pushes the door open, gesturing Roier forward. Oh, this is so much better than he could’ve hoped for. He’s getting into the guy’s bedroom. Mentally, he high-fives himself.
The room is cold, is the first thing he notices. And pretty barren too. Is this guy a complete sociopath? Probably! (Again, Roier loves insane biddies). But he’s quickly distracted from all thoughts of the decor by a small furry brown lump curled up at the end of the bed. He gasps and drops to his knees in front of the bed, crawling forward.
“Oh my goodness.” He coos. “He’s just a baby!”
“His name is Richarlyson.” Roier can hear the smile in Cellbit’s voice. Roier reaches forward hesitantly, glancing back to Cellbit.
“Oh, you can pet him. Don’t worry about waking him, he is lazy.” Cellbit sits on the bed as Roier pats the kitten on the head. Richarlyson looks up with a squeaky trill, and Roier gasps in delight.
“Awh, aren’t you just so cute?” Roier scratches the kitten between the ears and he stands and launches into a big kitten stretch, his fur puffing out at all angles.
“Oh, pobrecito, his–” Roier glances at Cellbit. “He only has–”
“Three legs, yeah.” Cellbit shrugs, a bit of a sad smile gracing his features. “He seems to be fine without one! But we had to get it cut off, when we found him he had an infection.”
“We?”
“Yes.” And he reaches over to tap the kitten on the nose. “Me and my friends. We share custody.”
“Awh, you have more than one daddy, huh Richas?” Roier giggles, rubbing the cat under the chin, eliciting a wobbly purr. “Lucky for me, this one is the cutest, huh?” And with that he winks at Cellbit.
“Que!?” Apparently having stunned Cellbit back into his native language, Roier laughs, admiring the blush that’s appeared again on his pretty face. “You haven't even seen them!”
“No, man, I just know.” He teases. “You are like… wow!” Aaand he’s run out of English vocabulary to describe it properly. It doesn’t stop Cellbit’s blush from intensifying rapidly.
“Man, you can’t come here and flirt with me.” He groans. Roier waggles his eyebrows up and down.
“Ah, maybe it was my plan all along?” Richarlyson—apparently having grown irate with the lack of pets while Roier’s been flirting with his dad—headbutts Roier’s hovering hand with surprising ferocity. “Woah!” He laughs, resuming the stroking of his soft fur. They settle into a comfortable silence, Roier content with petting the little beast. Still, he’s aware of Cellbit, and the eyes on the side of his face. He isn’t subtle.
“Ah.” Cellbit speaks up after a few minutes. “By the way, I think I forgot to say thanks. For… earlier. You really saved my ass, man.”
“Huh? Oh!” Roier waves him off. “Absolutely no problem, man.” And a brief memory of himself, on his hands and knees fucking meowing for Quackity, flashes through his mind. He shudders. Listen, he did it because he would definitely be devastated if Cellbit got kicked out of the university before they could even have a conversation. Sue him, for being driven by his dick, okay?!
“But…” And he leans forward, looking up at Cellbit through his eyelashes. “It would be nice if I got, ah, something back, for my effort?”
“Like…” Cellbit swallows. “Like what?”
Roier beams. “Your number!”
And Cellbit giggles, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “I think that can be arranged.”