Chapter Text
Ray is not sure what to expect after signing up for the student housing program his college offers.
All he knows is that instead of sharing one way too small room with a stranger and a bathroom with like 30 other people, he would be sharing a fully furnished apartment with someone he didn’t have to talk to if he didn’t feel like it, because he at least would have his own bedroom. And Ray is a simple guy – he cherishes his privacy. So he scraped together the extra coin and decided to let fate decide who he would be living with for the next few years.
When the day finally comes and his mom drops him off at the apartment complex, she begins to cry into his shoulder before he’s even able to get his bags and suitcases out of the trunk.
“Mom, I’ll be fine”, he assures her, but hugs her back just as tight.
“Please don’t forget to call me”, she pleads in between sobs.
“Every Saturday at least. I promise.”
Ray slowly begins to untangle himself, but his mom doesn’t let go of him until she’s pressed one, two, three kisses to his cheek.
She steps back, her hands moving from his back to his cheeks as she gives him a teary smile. “Your dad would be so proud.”
Ray smiles back and feels his eyes beginning to burn. He quickly blinks away the tears that threaten to fill them and moves out of her grip to get his belongings.
He feels guilty, leaving his mom behind. With his dad gone and him moving out, she'll be all alone in their house. It’s almost like a cruel joke– the house always was just a tad too small for three people but it’s definitely way too big for one person. Ray didn't want to leave, wanted to try commuting by train, but his mom insisted he should have a proper college experience. Whatever that meant.
He throws his backpack over his shoulder, his duffel bag over the other and grabs the handle of his suitcase.
“Bye, Mom. I’ll text you later, okay?”, he promises and gives her a kiss on the cheek in passing. “I love you.”
She nods with fresh tears in her eyes. “Bye, baby. Be good.”
Ray gives her one last smile and wave before turning away and making his way towards his new, temporary home.
The woman at the reception barely looks up at him when he tells her his name.
“ID, please”, she says absentmindedly, extremely noticeably chewing gum.
Ray pulls out his wallet and puts his ID on the counter. She grabs it and starts typing away on her computer. He uses the moment to take a look around, although there’s really not much to see. A couple bulletin boards with several advertisements for clubs to join or events to attend and a few students hanging around a run down foosball table in the waiting area. Other than that, Ray and the receptionist are the only attraction in the tiny office at the head of the apartment complex.
“You’re in 4723. Building four, seventh floor, room 23”, the woman suddenly says, pulling him out of his thoughts. She places his ID, two keys and a clipboard with a document and a pen on the counter. “Please sign here to confirm that you received your keys. The square one is for the building, the round one is for your room.”
Ray nods in understanding and signs the document before grabbing his ID and the keys. “Building four is…?”
“Turn right out front. It’s the second building on your right.”
“Right. Thank you”, he says, giving the woman a tight-lipped smile, but she’s already back to whatever she was watching on the poorly hidden phone propped up against the base of her monitor.
After what feels like the longest walk of his life with his bags trying their hardest to pull him down towards the ground, Ray finally reaches his building. He’s about to put his new key to the test when two boys around his age burst through the door, deep in animated conversation.
“– told you it was boys only. The girls are probably in a few of the other buildings.”
“That’s such bullshit! We’re in college. Do they think I’m here to only fucking study?”
The aggravated one is about two heads smaller than the much calmer seeming one – it’s a funny sight. Ray steps to the side to let them pass, but the taller one stops to eye him down.
“Hey, you an athlete or something?”
Ray is caught off guard by suddenly being perceived, by being talked to, but quickly pulls himself together. He swiftly catches the door before it can slam shut again.
“Uh, not really”, he says. “I used to play baseball with my dad sometimes. Just for fun, though.”
The boy lights up. “Really? They have a baseball team here. Me and some mates wanted to check it out, if you’re down to try out as well.”
“Jesus, Art, let the man breathe, for fuck’s sake. He looks like he walked all the way here from Pittsburgh or something”, the smaller boy chimes in.
Ray is overwhelmed by the ease of the conversation. As if he already knows them. He smiles at the kind suggestion, adjusting his hold on his backpack. “Sure. Why not?”
“I’m Art. This walking pain in the butt is Hank. What room are you in? We’ll make sure to come by some time.”
“I’m Ray. I’m in 723.”
“Oh, you’re with McVries, then! That’s so great, you’ll get along just– Hank, what are you in such a hurry for, man? – Sorry, I’ll see you around, Ray!”, Art says, falling into step behind Hank, who gives Ray a small wave as goodbye.
“See you”, Ray replies, but they’re already back to their previous discussion.
So they know Ray’s roommate. If this McVries is half as approachable as Art and Hank, Ray has a good feeling about his chances at making some friends.
When he walks inside his building, it’s nothing like the registration office. There are people everywhere, some meeting for the first time, some probably already acquainted, some deep in what Ray assumes to be their assigned reading while others can be heard planning get-togethers.
He hurries to the elevator, smiles awkwardly at some people that pass him on his way, gets inside and presses the button with a glowing 7. As soon as the elevator doors close, his shoulders sag in relief. Only a few more steps and he can get rid of these fucking bags.
The hallway on the seventh floor is swarming with newly arrived students. With his bags and his suitcase, it’s a tight fit between the narrow corridor and the people rushing past him excitedly. Most front doors are open as students are still carrying their stuff inside and others are simply making conversation across the hall.
21… 22... 23!
The door to Ray’s apartment is closed. He wonders whether this McVries has already left to participate in one of the freshmen orientation activities.
He fumbles for his key and attempts to open the door while simultaneously trying to keep his backpack from sliding down his shoulder. When the lock clicks and he opens the door, he’s met with a boy sitting on the couch, phone in his hand, but already looking at him. There’s a beat of silence in which Ray tries to figure out how to come across as likeable as possible.
“Uhm, hi”, he says, cursing himself internally, “I’m Ray Garraty.”
The boy, who Ray assumes to be McVries, smiles warmly, puts his phone away and stands up from the couch to approach Ray.
He’s tall, though maybe a little smaller than Ray, and he’s absolutely jacked if his arms are anything to go by. The tank top he’s wearing flatters his build immensely and Ray hopes he doesn’t notice his gaze lingering.
Eventually, Ray forces himself to look his roommate in the eyes. They’re a deep brown– not like Ray’s, but a few shades darker, so Ray can barely make out where his iris ends and his pupil begins. When he manages to break away from his gaze, he notices a scar spanning from his right temple down to the middle of his upper lip. Of course, curiosity sparks inside him, but he’s decent enough to know not to ask. He finds himself thinking that it doesn’t make him any less handsome. Quite the opposite, actually– he thinks that it makes him even more good-looking.
At the same time, the boy gives Ray a once over, a smug smile on his lips and his eyes flashing with something Ray has never seen before from anyone who ever looked at him– he can’t quite place it.
“Peter McVries. You can call me Pete”, McVries answers then and extends his hand. Ray takes it.
It’s soft, he notices. Ray’s gaze unfortunately falls again, this time right onto his exposed biceps and he briefly wonders how it’s even possible to look like that.
“You– do you work out?”, Ray asks dumbly, but Pete doesn’t laugh at him or seem weirded out. His eyes crinkle as his face breaks out into a bright grin.
“Yeah, Ray, I do”, Pete chuckles and squeezes Ray’s hand firmly before letting go. “Do you?”
Ray feels Pete’s eyes roam all over him and he’s suddenly painfully aware of the state he’s in. Breathing heavier than normally, most likely with sweat stains under his armpits and hair sticking to his damp forehead. He runs a hand through his hair to at least fix something about his appearance and he can tell Pete’s eyes follow the motion.
“Not really”, he admits, his cheeks heating up. “I met Hank and Art earlier, though. They said they knew you? I might join them in trying out for the baseball team.”
He doesn’t know why he feels the need to justify himself. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t really like how he looks anyway or maybe it’s because his roommate looks like a greek fucking god.
“You’ve met Art and Hank? I’m surprised you didn’t turn on your heel to walk back home”, Pete chuckles, but Ray can tell by the spark in his eyes how fond he is of the two and maybe even how happy he is that Ray met them.
“They were nice”, Ray shrugs, “Art seemed pretty excited that I would be your roommate. Said we’d get along.”
Pete’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Of course he said that”, he huffs as he abashedly tears his eyes away from Ray’s.
“So you’re an athlete”, Pete acknowledges then, effectively changing the subject before Ray has a chance to press further, “You certainly look the part.”
Despite himself, something inside of Ray dares to take that as a compliment. He curses his fair skin, because his cheeks must be the color of a dragonfruit peel right now. He really doesn’t know what’s gotten into him– he’s usually far more collected when meeting new people. They stare at each other for a moment, until Pete breaks the silence again.
“Let me help you with your bags.” It’s more of a demand than it is an offer. He steps forward to grab the strap of Ray’s duffel bag, but Ray’s grip on it tightens instinctively.
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“See it as compensation for the fact that I already unpacked all my stuff in the bigger bedroom”, he replies with a sheepish smile and Ray laughs before ultimately letting Pete take it.
“Okay, Pete.”
Pete beams at him.
Ray follows Pete inside and looks around their shared space. It’s essentially a practical combination of living room and kitchen; they have a big enough couch, a decent-sized TV, a kitchen island and some cupboards all over the walls.
When they reach the bedroom and drop Ray’s stuff on the ground, there’s a bed, a closet and a desk with a chair – not much, but more than enough.
“Wanna show me around?”, Ray asks. He had always been an unpack-over-time kind of guy and for now, he's just glad to finally have gotten rid of the extra weight.
Pete looks at him funny. “We’re working with fifty square meters, compadre. You've already seen most of it.”
“Okay, I’ll rephrase. Wanna show me the room you stole from me?”
In all honesty, Ray just wants to see Pete’s room. And what about it? If Pete really already unpacked, Ray will find out a lot about him by just taking a look at the stuff he has flying around.
“You’re funny, Ray. I like you”, Pete says, the warm smile Ray has already grown fond of never leaving his face.
Pete’s room isn’t what Ray expected. He thought he would find an indoor trainer and dumbbells of various weights. Maybe even a wall-length mirror. Instead, he finds a guitar on one side of the room, a record player on the other with stacks of vinyls next to it and posters of artists and bands on the walls that Ray has never even heard of.
“You were right”. Ray says, studying Pete’s belongings. “This does seem bigger than my bedroom.”
Pete lets out a laugh and leans against the door frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t”, Ray answers truthfully. From what it looks like, Pete has a way better use for the additional space than he does.
He walks to Pete’s desk, a collection of notebooks scattered on it. A few look heavily used and fully written in, others a little more recent and some are still wrapped in their plastic packaging.
“You a writer, Pete?”, Ray asks, turning to look at his roommate with a curious smile.
Pete shrugs and walks over to Ray. He seems a little nervous to share this part about him so early on in their acquaintanceship. “I try. I used to play some of my songs in this tiny pub in my town. Guess now I’ll be stuck here riffing for you.”
The smile he gives Ray is blinding. Ray can’t help but return it just as brightly. He’s itching to find out what kind of lyrics a person like Pete would write. “Hope that’s not too bad.”
“It ain’t too bad”, Pete says genuinely, looking at Ray with this inexplicable expression again.
As they settle into a comfortable silence, Ray thinks that Pete must have girls lining up just to talk to him. Not only is he charming, good-looking, strong and has a nice smile, he’s also creative and seems to have a soft side to him that Ray knows girls like.
Before he can ask Pete if he should worry about him bringing girls over every weekend, his thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock on their door. Ray almost jumps out of his skin, cursing under his breath. Pete lets out a laugh and turns around to walk to the door with Ray following closely behind.
When Pete opens it, Hank pushes past him without greeting, two six packs of beers in his hands. “Hope you’ve had enough time to sniff each other’s asses”, he says way too loudly.
Art trots inside behind him, an apologetic look on his face. Pete shakes his head disbelievingly and Ray snorts at the boy's antics.
“Well, come on, will you? We have a week until the shitty part of college begins, let’s make it count!” Hank lets himself fall onto their couch and places the packs onto the coffee table.
“How’d you even get these?”, Pete asks and closes the door. “You look twelve.”
“First of all, fuck you”, Hank says and Pete laughs. “I have my ways.”
“His ways being bribing the corner store employee”, Art explains.
“Shut up, Art! Me and Collie go way back”, Hank shoots back and opens a beer with the bottle opener on his keychain. “If you're done interrogating me, we can toast to our new found friend Ray.”
Ray feels all eyes on him.
“Uh, I don't really like beer”, he announces and earns himself mildly surprised looks from Art and Pete. Hank, however, looks at him like he just killed his entire family.
“What do you mean, you don't really like beer?”, he asks, outraged. “What do you like?”
“Cocktails”, Ray answers, shrugging.
“Cocktails?”, Hank laughs. “You two are gonna get along even better than we thought, McVries!”
“Quit it, Hank”, Art warns and joins Hank on the couch, lecturing him in a tone too low for Ray to understand. They hiss at each other, Hank’s arms flailing around defensively.
Ray looks at Pete, subconsciously searching for help as he begins to feel the flush on his face. He has been laughed at plenty of times because he prefers a Margarita over a can of beer, but this jab felt more specific. He’s not sure what Hank means, but doesn't want to ask.
Pete gives him an empathetic smile. “He can be an ass, don't listen to him”, he says. “I have some soda left from my train ride. You can try mixing it with the beer, it's supposed to taste better that way.”
Ray smiles right back at him, once again taken aback by his kindness. “Thanks, Pete.”
They walk over to Hank and Art, grabbing the chairs from the kitchen island on their way over so they can sit opposite of their visitors. It reminds Ray of the conversation circles they always did in elementary school.
Ray sits down, but Pete places the chair and walks away again, only to come back with a large bottle of soda and a glass that he hands Ray. Ray thanks him and begins mixing his drink as the others open their bottles of beer.
“So, Ray”, Hank begins, taking a large sip from his beer and leaning back into the couch, “You got a girl back home?”
Art elbows him. “Hank!”
“Ow, what? Can’t a guy make some conversation?”
Although Pete decides to stay out of the banter, Ray feels his eyes on him. “It’s fine, uhm– I had a girlfriend, but it didn’t work out.”
“And why’s that?”, Hank presses. Art rolls his eyes but has apparently given up on trying to tame his friend’s curiosity.
“I’m not really sure. I think I couldn’t give her what she wanted. And with me moving here, the distance would’ve probably ended it anyway.”
Ray averts his gaze. He doesn’t want to see the looks of pity on their faces, because he's a little ashamed of the fact that he inexplicably moved on in record time after three years of relationship. He can’t help that he doesn’t miss her or being with her at all, but he doesn’t like gloating about it.
“What about you guys?”, he asks to get the attention off of him.
Hank doesn’t waste a second. “Single as a pringle and ready to mingle.”
“Same here. Though not quite as ready to mingle, probably”, Art says, chuckling. He does seem like the guy to focus on his studies, Ray thinks.
Only Pete stays silent, sipping on his beer absentmindedly.
“What about you, Pete?”, Ray turns to him with a smug smile. Pete probably has way more girl-stories to tell than the rest of them. “You got a lady?”
Pete is already looking at him with an intense gaze Ray can’t quite decipher. He shakes his head. “No, Ray”, Pete says softly, the hint of an almost sad smile on his lips. “No, I don’t.”
Ray frowns, but can’t tear his eyes away from Pete’s dark, warm, inviting ones even if he wanted to. They look at each other for a long moment, in which Ray tries to figure out what Pete isn’t telling him, before Hank’s voice violently shatters the silence.
“Okay!”, he yells. “Now that that’s out of the way– what’s everyone’s favorite food?”
Art snorts. “Just say you want to get takeout.”
“Fine, I wanna get takeout”, Hank admits and everyone laughs.
They spend the rest of the day drinking, eating and sharing all kinds of stories from different stages in their lives. Ray finds out a lot about the three and at the end of the evening, he almost feels like he’s always been part of their friend group.
Before he goes to sleep, Ray texts his mom that he managed to finish his first ever bottle of beer. Pete was right. It does taste better with soda.