Work Text:
Alex was a month into his sophomore year of college when his guitar got stolen.
He was meticulous about locking his dorm room door; his roommate, not so much, although he barely showed up so it wasn't usually an issue. But apparently he'd stopped by and so when Alex got back from class their door was wide open, and it only took him a few seconds to scan his room and realize the guitar was gone.
Fortunately, it only took a few more heart pounding seconds to realize he heard something familiar.
Strumming.
He walked back out in the hall, following the music, grateful it was mid-day and most people were in class so it was quiet enough to hear it clearly.
Five doors down, a door was partly open and behind it, Alex could see a curly-headed boy - Guerin, Michael Guerin, he was pretty sure from the mandatory floor party at the start of the year - sitting cross-legged on a bed and playing a guitar. His guitar.
“What the hell?” He shoved the door hard enough it banged against the wall, startling the boy, his fingers slipping, the chords turning ugly. “You went into my room and stole my guitar?”
“You door was open and I was gonna put it back,” Guerin defended. “It was out of tune, so you’re welcome.”
“Yeah, that makes it better,” he scoffed as he snatched it back. “Stay out of my room, Guerin.”
Alex stalked back to his room and collapsed on his bed, thinking sour thoughts about idiots with no sense of boundaries.
He plucked out a quick melody to make sure the guitar was intact and felt even more frustrated when he realized it did actually sound more in tune.
From down the hall, a smug voice shouted, "Told ya!"
*
Two days later, he got a knock on his door, which was strange enough. His only friends were Kyle, who was at school in New York, and Liz, who he sat with in his required English course. The RA checking in with him the first week of the semester was the only visitor he’d had.
He opened it up to see a smirking Guerin on the other side and sighed. “What do you want?”
“Is this your flyer, Manes?” Guerin asked, waving a piece of blue paper around.
Alex crossed his arms. “It is,” he said suspiciously. “Why?”
“You’re offering guitar lessons, right?” Guerin asked, all fake innocence. “I’m signing up. And whoops, I don’t have a guitar. Guess I’ll have to borrow yours.”
“You know you have to pay me, right?”
The guitar thief fished two twenties out of his pocket. He held them out, then quickly pulled them out of reach when Alex tried to take them. “And I get to use the guitar for the full hour?”
“Seriously?” Guerin just raised his eyebrows, waiting. Alex sighed again. “Yeah, if that’s what you want.”
Smiling a smile so wide and full of itself it would put the Cheshire Cat to shame, Guerin handed over the money and held out his hands.
Half-annoyed, half-amused, Alex handed over the guitar.
Guerin plonked down on his roommate’s beanbag chair, and as he began to play, his face smoothed out, like he was in his own world.
After watching him for a few long moments, Alex shrugged and went back to his coding. There were worse ways to make forty bucks.
*
Having Guerin in his room, playing his guitar, became normal quicker than Alex would’ve expected. Guerin would pop by once or twice a week, bouncing on his feet and alight with excitement like a kid in a candy shop, and Alex would give him the guitar and set an alarm for an hour and do his homework while Guerin played. It was weirdly peaceful, even though he didn’t usually like people he didn’t know in his space. They talked sometimes, about class or work or the food in the cafeteria - anything that wasn’t personal.
Until one night, Guerin showed up and Alex could immediately tell his energy was different. He looked like he had a storm inside of him, eyebrows drawn together, fists clenched, shoulders tense. “You okay?”
“Can I come in or not, Manes?” he snapped.
“Sure,” Alex said, stepping aside to let him in. Guerin rushed past him, picked up the guitar and started to play before he even sat down.
He played the whole hour without a break, and when he finally stopped, the silence felt heavy. Alex struggled not to break it. He knew that pushing when someone was in a mood like this could make them shut down; it was something he was working on himself. So he let things stay quiet until Guerin was ready to talk.
“Thank you,” Guerin finally said, voice hoarse. When Alex turned around, Guerin looked much calmer, and sheepish, the tops of his cheeks turning red. “I, uh. Sometimes … it’s like there’s all this chaos inside of me, and I just want to get away from myself for a while. And then I play and it all goes quiet. My entropy changes. I really needed that tonight, so thank you.”
Alex nodded, because he might not get all of it, but he definitely understood wanting to get away from himself. “Anything in particular causing this chaos? If you want to talk about it.”
“You know Max Evans, my roommate?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen him around.”
“He’s my brother,” Guerin said, his fingernail running gently along the A string. “He and my sister got adopted by the same parents, I didn’t get adopted at all. And I was excited to be here with them but now … I don’t know. It’s not like I thought it would be.”
“Family’s are complicated,” Alex said quietly.
“I guess I’m figuring that out.” Michael cleared his throat. “So do you even have a roommate? Did you kill him so you could have a single or something?”
Alex laughed, surprised. “Yeah, he slept here the first couple weeks, but then he stopped showing up. So I got worried and texted him and he said, and I quote, ’S’all good, brah.”
“Wow.”
“Mm-hmm. He’s come back a couple times for his clothes and his bong, but that’s it. I have no idea where he lives but its not here.”
“So … wanna switch roommates?”
“Definitely not.” Alex smiled when Guerin huffed out a laugh. “Hey, Guerin?”
“Yeah?”
“If you need to be quiet or whatever, you can take the guitar back to your room if you want, or wherever. I don’t mind.”
“Really? You trust me not to run off with it?”
Alex snorted. “Run off where? You live fifty feet away from me. Besides, even if you did, I'm starting to think you’d bring it back eventually.”
Guerin tilted his head curiously. “How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “I just do.”
Guerin stared at him for a few seconds, his face doing something complicated that Alex couldn’t quite decipher, before shaking his head dismissively. “Nah,” he said. “I like it here.” Then, not meeting Alex’s eyes, he said, “I can be quiet with you.”
*
Alex was bleary with sleep the next time Michael stopped by, but he still let him in before stumbling back to his bed.
“Woah, Manes,” Guerin said, almost sounding concerned. “You okay?”
“Tired,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Test then a double at the music store.”
“I get it. I’ll come back later.”
Alex waved his hand dismissively. “S’fine. I can sleep through anything right now.”
And promptly proved it by falling asleep as soon as he finished the sentence.
When he woke up, it was dark outside when he was pretty sure it had been mid-afternoon before. The guitar was back in place and a blanket that wasn’t his was thrown haphazardly over him, probably because he was lying on his own blankets. And there was a bag from the local diner sitting on his desk. Yawning and stretching so big he cracked his back, he shuffled over to open it. Inside were two ham and cheese sandwiches and an extra large fries. Everything was lukewarm but still tasted amazing; Alex hadn’t even realized he’d hadn’t eaten all day until he scarfed down one of the sandwiches in five bites.
He wrapped up half of the other ham and cheese and stuck it in his mini-fridge so he would have something to eat tomorrow in case he forgot again. He managed to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth before collapsing back into bed and pulling the blanket back over himself. It was blue and worn and smelled like fuel and Guerin’s soap.
As he fell asleep, he how it was nice to have someone take care of him for a change.
*
Guerin’s playing felt less cohesive than usual, more stops and starts, more repetition. It took almost half an hour for Alex to figure out what he was doing. “Are you writing something?”
“Might be,” Guerin said with a grin.
“Does it have lyrics? Can I hear them?”
“Oh, no, believe me Manes, you don’t want to hear me sing. And no, no lyrics, just trying to put how I feel into music, I guess.”
“And how are you feeling?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you when I finish the song,” Guerin said, his face turning shy and soft.
And Alex wanted to kiss him, and the realization almost knocked him off the bed. He hadn't had a crush in years, probably out of self preservation as much as anything. But Guerin had snuck up on him. "Can't wait," he said honestly, and he hoped and hoped and hoped.
*
“Can I ask you something?”
Guerin raised his eyebrows at Alex. He was draped all over Alex’s roommate’s bed and wearing a threadbare wife beater, and Alex was trying really hard not stare. They’d just come back from Thanksgiving break, or Guerin had, since he went home with his siblings while Alex stayed in the dorms. He couldn’t quite believe how much he’d missed him. “Guess so.”
“Why don’t you just buy a guitar? You’ve got a decent job, clearly,” he said, waving the money Guerin had just handed him before slipping it back into his pocket. “There’s a place in town that sells second-hand guitars for like a hundred bucks. Hell, you could’ve bought a new one as much as you’ve been paying me.”
Guerin kept his head bent over the guitar and fingered the strings lightly, aimlessly. “Maybe I just like yours.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely not it.”
Guerin put down the instrument, looking uncomfortable. “Look, I didn’t have a lot growing up, okay? Bounced around a lot of foster homes, nothing stuck. I had to get the best grades in my class so I could a scholarship, and I worked for it for so long, and I now that I have? Feels like someone’s gonna come along and take it away again. So yeah, even though Sanders pays me pretty well, I save my money, just in case. Wasting that much on a guitar right now …” He shrugged helplessly. “I just can’t.”
Alex wanted to ask why he came here, then, why he was willing to spend his money to play Alex's guitar, to spend time with Alex, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. So instead he said, "I'm, um ... I'm gay." He laughed, shaking his head. "Wow, I'm still not used to saying that out loud."
Guerin didn't say anything, his eyes locked on Alex intensely.
“I couldn’t be out when I was home. My dad …” Alex took a shuddering breath, not ready to talk about all the ways his life would’ve been worse if his dad had ever found out when he was still living in his house. “Anyway, I guess I’m trying to get used to it. Being able to be out. And I never want to have to pretend again, so I can’t go back there, and that’s why I put up a flyer about guitar lessons.”
“Don’t you have a scholarship? ‘Cause word around campus is that Alex Manes could be at MIT, he’s so good with computers.”
“Been asking about me Guerin?” Alex teased, loving how Guerin ducked his head shyly instead of denying it. “I do have a scholarship, but it’s only partial, and it doesn’t cover room and board. I’m only part time at the music store, so I needed to pick up some more cash.”
"Aren't you glad you found such a dedicated student?"
"I can teach you something if you want.” Alex walked over and sat down on the bed next to Guerin. “You’re having trouble with some of your chord progressions because your right wrist isn’t as arched as it needs to be. Like this.” He gently took Guerin’s wrist and lifted it up so it was in the optimal curve.
“Are you actually giving me guitars lessons?” Guerin asked, and Alex wondered if it was his imagination that his voice was rougher than usual.
“I put up that flyer for a reason,” Alex said, leaning closer.
And he could swear that Guerin was leaning in, too; but then suddenly he pulled away, dropping the guitar on the bed next to Alex as he leapt off of it. “Y’know, actually, I just remembered I’ve got a bunch of reading I’m behind on. I’ll see you later, Manes.”
Then he left, the door closing resolutely behind him, and Alex felt embarrassed and maybe just a little heartbroken.
*
The next few days were unnaturally quiet. Alex hadn’t realized how much he’d gotten used to the sound of Guerin playing in the background as he wrote essays or worked on codes, and he had trouble concentrating without it. Berating himself for driving away the second friend he’d made since he got here didn’t help, nor did the voice that sounded a lot like his dad telling him that this was why he shouldn’t try to kiss boys in the first place. He’d hoped he’d left that voice behind when he left home, but apparently not.
He was spending Friday night a couple weeks before finals trying to catch up on all the work he was lagging behind on when there was a knock on the door. When he opened it, his mouth went dry. “Guerin, what are you doing here?”
Guerin pushed past him, shifting awkwardly in the middle of the room until Alex closed the door before bursting out with, “I panicked!”
Alex raised his eyebrows, trying not to get his hopes up. “You panicked?”
“Yeah, I … look, I wanted to kiss you, but I freaked out.”
“Have you kissed another guy before?” Alex asked, frowning.
“Yeah. That’s not the problem.”
“So what is?”
Guerin swallowed heavily. “I just … I like you, okay? Like a lot.”
Alex wondered if he looked as confused as he felt. “And that’s a problem?”
“Well, I never really have before, not anyone. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You know I don’t either,” Alex pointed out, stepping closer. “But we’re not going to figure it out if we don’t try.”
“Very practical of you, Manes,” Guerin said, eyes dropping to Alex’s lips.
Alex was going to say something clever in response, probably, but he never got the chance because Guerin grabbed him and kissed him.
Alex had thought that kissing a boy he liked for the first time might be sweet and soft and romantic. Instead, it was like getting swept away, Guerin pressing him back and back until he hit the door, gripping him tight, kissing him like he was desperate for it.
“I think we’re doing pretty good so far,” Alex panted when they finally pulled apart to catch their breath.
“Oh, I don’t know, I think I could use some more lessons," Guerin said, nosing along Alex's neck. "Think you can help me out with that, Alex?”
“I think I could handle that, Michael,” Alex teased, then laughed when Guerin - Michael groaned and leaned forward to kiss him again. Then something occurred to him. “Hold that thought.”
Michael groaned again but in a more annoyed way as Alex pushed him off so he could get to his desk. “Seriously, now?”
Alex grabbed an envelope out of his bottom drawer and tossed it at Michael. “If we’re going to date, I should probably give this back.”
Michael opened it and frowned. “Is this the money I’ve been paying you?”
“I’ve been saving it. I think I was probably gonna put it under your door at the end of the year.”
“Hey, I don’t need charity,” Michael growled.
“It’s not charity,” Alex said reasonably. “This money was for guitar lessons and I never actually taught you guitar.”
“Fair point.” Michael thumbed through the bills. “Got a few hundred bucks in here, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He shoved the envelope back at Alex. “Enough to take me on some really awesome dates, then. Not fancy restaurants though, I hate that stuff. Something fun.”
“There’s an old drive-in nearby,” Alex said, smirking as he dropped the envelope back in the drawer and wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck. “Plays a lot of old sci-fi movies.”
“Nerd,” Michael said fondly, his hands splayed around Alex’s hips.
“You’ve seen the posters I have up in here, you knew what you were getting into. The food’s good and we can park in the back and make out.”
“Sold,” Michael said; then he tugged Alex towards the bed. “Now about those lessons …”
*
The next year, Alex’s nomadic roommate dropped out, or transferred, or started traveling the world, Alex wasn’t really clear. And Michael and Max decided that they got along better when they didn’t live together, which they figured out because Michael spent more time in Alex’s room during the second semester than in his own. So Michael and Alex became roommates their junior year - roommates who pushed their beds together and got queens fitted sheets to cover the whole thing.
Alex would come home to Michael strumming their guitar, looking so peaceful and so beautiful, playing the song he wrote about them. And as he lay down next to him and listened to him play, he thought that it didn't need lyrics at all. The music sounded exactly how he was feeling.