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His peaceful, dreamless sleep is interrupted rudely by something crashing into his chest.
Groaning in pain, his hand automatically goes to clutch his chest while he struggles to open his eyes. “Ryan, man, your fucking alarm again. Don’t set it unless you plan to get up.”
He squints up at Alex, standing in the door with his hair sticking up in all directions and then down at his own stomach, where his phone now is.
“Did you just throw my $500 phone at me?” he mumbles, sitting up, but Alex has already slammed the door to his room.
He picks it up and turns off the second alarm he has set to go off in five minutes, in case Alex comes back and throws it out the window instead. It’s 7:30am, and like every Tuesday, he seriously considers skipping the 8am seminar.
But like every Tuesday his conscience politely reminds him that attendance is part of the grade, so he hauls himself out of bed and puts sweatpants on, because it’s too fucking early for jeans.
As he’s shuffling out of his dorm block he spots Michael walking towards him on the path, a friend and also his Poetry I classmate.
“Ryan, hey,” Michael smiles. He’s always up this early even when he has no classes and he’s always in a good mood, which Ryan finds highly suspicious.
“Hey,” Ryan tries to smile back. “Is that coffee?” He nods at the drink in Michael’s hands.
“Yeah, why?”
Ryan takes it off him easily and gulps down as much as he can before Michael grabs it back, nearly spilling it in the process. Ryan grimaces at the lack of sugar but beggars can’t be choosers.
Michael grumbles curses without intent and Ryan buries his fingers in his hoodie.
“Why is it so cold?” he whines.
“It’s winter,” Michael says ineffectually.
“But its California,” Ryan says.
“Sometimes, at 8 in the morning in winter, its cold even in California,” Michael says in a kiddie voice. Ryan smacks his arm.
They cross the square to the Arts block, and Ryan waves a tired goodbye as Michael heads towards the library.
The stupid History seminar is on the upper floors so he drags himself up four flights of stairs, wallowing in his regret for choosing history as an elective on his way. It’s like a fun Tuesday morning routine.
When he gets to the classroom, he sees the lights are off through the circle on the door and he immediately thinks he’s got the room number wrong. This would not be the first time he’s done that. But when he walks closer just to double check he sees an A4 page taped to the door, that just says, 8AM RESEARCHING HISTORY CLASS CANCELLED CHECK EMAIL SEE YOU NEXT WEEK.
“Fuck off, “ he mumbles quietly to the door. He fights the urge to scrunch up the piece of paper and fling it in the trashcan.
“Shit seriously?” he hears a voice say behind him, in a tone that can only be of someone who woke up at the crack of dawn and dragged themselves to class only to find out said class has been cancelled. He turns his head and sees a familiar face, a boy who pops up in some of his classes but whom he’s never actually spoken to. Which is a shame, he thinks, because he’s cute, in an unconventional way. His eyes are super dark in this poor light.
Said cute boy is speaking, and that’s when he realises he’s staring stupidly at the poor guy. “Did we miss an email? Fuck, I don’t think I checked my email last night.”
Ryan’s irritation at the situation flows back. “Yeah we must have, I didn’t check either.” He glances around. “We’re the only ones who didn’t apparently,” he says, maybe a little bitterly.
The other boy sighs. “I could be still asleep right now,” he laments. Ryan huffs a laugh. “My roommate had to throw my phone at me to wake me up this morning.”
That gets him a laugh in reply. “Well, I would say do you wanna get coffee or something, but seeing as it’s 8am…”
“Back to bed,” Ryan finishes, yawning at the thought of it. The guy nods his agreement.
“See you later,” Ryan says awkwardly, and then walks by him back to the stairwell and then proceeds to go over every single moment of the interaction in detail. Did he sound like an ass? Shit, he didn’t even introduce himself. But he was hypothetically offered to go get coffee with him, so…
He stifles a yawn again when he reaches the ground floor. Sleep first, dwell on this later.
+++
He doesn’t have lectures until afternoon the next day, but when he wakes up Alex is sitting at the table with a sociology book open, which somehow motivates him into going to the library.
It’s exam season so the place is packed, but he finds a seat at one of the long tables and opens his laptop to load his lecture notes, and starts flicking through some of the assigned reading while it turns on.
He forgets his computer and gets distracted by the book, because he does enjoy the Poetry module. It’s past noon when he looks up and realises the person sitting beside him has changed, and the person sitting in front of him is the boy from the other morning, who also didn’t get the email about class being cancelled and also happened to have nice eyes and lips.
He catches Ryan’s eye and they smile at each other before he starts digging around in his bag for something. Ryan goes back to mark his page in his book, and watches as a hand opposite him pushes a ripped refill page corner across the table. He glances up at the boy, who is staring fixedly at his computer now.
Ryan looks at the note, which just says, in all caps, I’M BRENDON. With a little smiley face beside it.
He picks his pen up and scribbles on the other side I’M RYAN and passes it back over to Brendon. He closes his laptop and shoves everything in his bag, smiling again at Brendon as he gets up and pushes his chair in.
He checks out his poetry book and glides to his lecture, and he’s still smiling.
+++
“You’re in a bizarrely good mood, you know,” Alex says as he opens a bottle of beer. “Very strange.”
“And you are, of course, my perpetually effervescent roommate,” Ryan replies, taking the proffered beer from Alex. Alex glares down at him while he opens his own bottle. “Don’t use big words with me, English fucker. But seriously, you’ve been chatty and smiley all week, spill the beans already. Is there a new person in your admittedly drought-like lovelife?”
Ryan gives him the middle finger but gives in and tells him quickly and vaguely about Brendon, without making it sound like he’s that into him, but Alex knows him too well anyway.
Alex scratches his beard absently and flops down onto the couch beside him. “Well you better point him out to me next time we’re together and you see him.”
The problem is Ryan doesn’t see him after that.
The next week Brendon doesn’t seem to be around at all, and the week after he’s either caught up talking to the professor or to someone else after class, or someone’s having a conversation with Ryan.
He doesn’t spot him around campus at all, not even at the Starbucks that pretty much every student walks into at some stage every day. He doesn’t admit that he is frequenting the coffee place more than usual, because he absolutely is not.
It’s nearly a month later and Ryan is staying late at the library on a Friday night because he has no plans and Christmas exams start the following Monday. It’s much quieter at this time and he gets a desk all to himself, so he obnoxiously spreads his books out everywhere and checks his Twitter more than he usually would had there been someone beside him.
He’s at the self service station scanning his books with music playing in his ears when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He jumps a little and turns to see Brendon standing beside him, a laptop case in his arms. Ryan pulls out his earphones and says, stupidly, “Oh hey, Brendon.”
The surprise at seeing him briefly outweighs his sudden nerves.
“Hi,” Brendon grins at him. “Ryan.” There is a glint in his eye that does not help Ryan to act casual.
“Partying in the library too on this fine Friday night?” Ryan asks, zipping up his backpack.
“Yeah, nonstop partying,” Brendon says. “Fucking hate exams.”
“I know, my head hurts,” Ryan says with a sigh. They walk out of the library front entrance. “You heading back to dorms?”
Brendon nods, so they walk together, the palm trees above them already twinkling with Christmas lights. Every so often their elbows and arms brush against each other, which Ryan thinks is probably deliberate on both their accounts.
“Well, this is me,” Ryan says, turning right to go to House 11. Brendon is still beside him though, smiling. “This is me too,” he says to Ryan’s questioning glance.
Ryan beeps them in with his card and they both start up the stairs. “What floor are you on?” Ryan asks in slight wonder, because he’s really never seen Brendon around here before.
“Third floor,” Brendon says. Ryan laughs disbelievingly. “You’re kidding.”
Brendon laughs too. “No… are you too?”
“Yeah, it’s weird. I’ve never seen you.”
They reach their floor and when Ryan stops at his door, Brendon points at the door beside his.
“Fuck off.”
“That’s my room!” Brendon protests, laughing.
“How have we gone the whole semester without knowing each other? We live right beside each other!” He can’t wrap his head around it.
“I dunno, it’s weird…” Brendon trails off, looking at Ryan. There’s a moment of silence that’s tense and awkward as the shock wears off.
Fuck it, Ryan thinks, or rather, doesn’t think. He closes the distance between him and Brendon in two steps, and before he can stop himself, presses a kiss into Brendon’s mouth. It lasts barely a second – he pulls away, and chances a look at Brendon, who is half smiling in surprise.
“We should go get that coffee soon,” he says in one breath, and he turns on his heel and lets himself into his dorm, closing the door shut before Brendon can reply.
He leans against the door and scans the room, thanking whatever god there is that Alex is not home to take the piss out of him for blushing.
+++
“I like these,” Brendon says. He thumbs Ryan’s hipbones, pushing his shirt up in the process.
Ryan’s sprawled out on his back on his shitty single bed, with Brendon straddling his legs.
“Yeah?” Ryan murmurs, not thinking at all about what he was saying but rather on Brendon’s hands and where they were going.
Brendon pauses, and Ryan looks at him under his eyelids, smiling lazily. Within a second Brendon is hovering over him, his mouth inches from Ryan’s mouth.
“But I also like this,” he says, and leans down to brush his teeth against Ryan’s neck, right beside his Adams apple. Ryan moans under his breath at the touch, which only makes Brendon sink his teeth in for real.
Once he’s sucked a bruise onto his neck he starts mouthing up his jaw, finally to Ryan’s mouth, kissing him while Ryan hums contentedly.
They break apart, and Ryan runs a finger over Brendon’s swollen lips. “I like these,” he smirks. “Pretty much the only reason I like you actually.”
Brendon bites the finger Ryan has on his mouth.
“I’ll bite your dick too,” Brendon says flatly with an evil look in his eyes. Ryan pouts and holds his hands protectively to his chest. He rolls his head to the side and sighs. “Fucking Alex,” he mutters, and Brendon lets out a burst of laughter.
Alex was packing to leave for the holidays, and was blaring Christmas music at top volume on his speakers, partly to drown out Brendon and Ryan but mostly just to be annoying.
“Mmm, I could suck dick to Mariah singing Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” Brendon muses, rocking his hips. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“Absolutely not,” Ryan says, poking his stomach, only half worried that Brendon would actually try to. “Speaking of which, when are you leaving for the holidays?”
Brendon looks down with a frown. “Oh, I’m not. It’s too expensive for me to fly home right now. What about you?”
Ryan says nothing for a second, gazing at Brendon and moving his eyes around his face, memorizing it all. He pulls Brendon down to him again. “We should go to the beach on Christmas Day, then.”
Brendon laugh gets lost in his mouth.