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Trinity stretched and inhaled the taste of mango ice; she coughed at the burnt taste and made a mental note to pick up a new vape sometime this week. She scrolled through the Netflix movie catalogue, muttering at every straight rom-com until her eyes burned, before finally deciding to leave her room to make dinner.
She passed by Dennis’s room and knocked haphazardly. “Yo Huckleberry, gonna order some food, you want anything?”
There was a long pause of silence before his voice softly called, “Uh—n-no thank you, I’m good.” His voice cracked at the last word, and he was much quieter than usual.
“You sound weird, did you get fucked up at the bar again? I thought I told you that drinking was a loser hobby.” Trinity laughed at her own joke, only to be met with dead silence.
“Denny, I’m coming in. You’re kinda freaking me out, you're normally blabbering when I mention food." She laughed again, but this time, it was to mask her worry. She waited a few minutes; still no response.
She shouldered the door open and eyed Dennis, who was huddled under the bedsheets with bloodshot eyes. He was rocking back and forth, anxiously clutching the green sheets between his white knuckles. His eyes were fixed on a weathered photo of his parents that lay in front of him.
“Yikes,” Trinity muttered. She wasn’t entirely sure how to approach Dennis, especially since she could tell this was about his parents, whom he hadn’t spoken to in five years. She awkwardly lingered in the doorway, shifting her weight and waiting for Dennis to give her the next steps.
“My mother called me. I didn’t answer, but—I-I haven’t…” His voice drifted off as tears prickled at his eyes.
“Fuck, Huckleberry, that sucks.” Trinity took a step closer, still unsure if she should leave his room. Deep down she knew she wanted to help him. He was one of the nicest people she had met so far, and she cared about him a lot, even if she refused to admit it.
Sometimes she wished she was able to articulate the respect and love she felt towards people without making it sound like she was being harsh.
Dennis shrugged and enveloped himself deeper into the ivy green sheets, twisting himself against them like he himself was a shrouded vine.
“S’okay, I blocked her after I heard the voicemail, don’t really care, it’s fine.”
“You don’t have to be.” Trinity offered a soft smile. "Fine, I mean.”
Dennis glanced at her, his expression slowly warming. "Thanks, Trin, you can, uh— sit if you want.” He slowly unfurled from the mess of bedding, pushing a pile of clothes onto the floor, and patted the spot next to him.
“Oh! Uh… fuck… you know I—”
“Trinity.”
“Yeah, no, I just—” She bit the skin around her pointer finger and scratched her arm.
Dennis let out a loud sigh. "C'mon, Trini, get over yourself, sit.” The quiet air between them stilled once more before they both let out a quiet laugh.
"Okay, whatever, this doesn’t mean anything though. I’m just tired, and I need to rest.” She replied, cocking an eyebrow at him before sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“Just tired, and you need to rest.” Dennis repeated with a grin as he pulled his knees up to his chest.
Trinity picked at her cuticles again, trying to figure out how she could help him. "So, uhh, wanna watch people get hurt for money?”
Dennis’s mouth fell open, and his face turned flush. “WHAT? Trinity, I’m upset but not enough to what… get in a bar fight, if that's what you’re suggesting."
"Survivor, dumbass.” She smiled and softly elbowed him in the ribs.
Dennis slumped against the headboard with a fake gasp, pretending like Trinity had seriously injured him. They sat for a few moments in a tranquil silence, something they did often enough that it became comforting.
“You know, most people wouldn’t describe Survivor like that,” he eventually replied.
“I’m not most people,” Trinity countered with a wink.
Dennis tossed the covers aside and stood up to stretch his back. “I still don’t understand how you could enjoy Survivor—I feel bad for them,” he added with a frown.
“Money, baby! I would probably, like, I dunno, step on someone for $100.”
“That sounds kinky.”
"Ew, you’re gross! It so isn’t! I meant in a dickhead way… actually never mind, I see what you mean.”
The pair finally made eye contact, smiling at each other before Trinity rolled her eyes. “You’re so weird, Denny.”
“Not as weird as you, Trin-Trin,” he giggled, leaning over to push her into the headboard.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” she grumbled while swatting at his stomach.
He offered his hand and smirked, “M’lady.”
"Ugh, Huckleberry, you’re so gross! I should have kicked you out months ago.”
Trinity used to be scared of making jokes like that, always worrying that Dennis would think she meant it, the image of him homeless in the abandoned hospital wing flashing through her mind.
After spending so much time together at work and home, Dennis learned that she didn’t mean it. He still worried about being kicked out, but that was his own trauma talking.
Trinity took his hand and stood, quickly wiping her palms against her jeans in an exaggerated motion. “Gotta get that gross farmboy sweat off,” she chuckled.
They made their way to the couch; Dennis flopped down with a groan and scrolled through menus on his phone.
“Greek?” He offered.
“Had it last week, Chinese?”
“So boring, Indian?”
“I can do Indian.” Trinity nodded in agreement, sitting down beside Dennis.
"So, uh, you want to…talk? About…your mother?” She offered gently as she prodded at Dennis with her foot.
“Not much to say,” he shrugged. "Left me a message wanting to know if I finished med school, told me I was a failure, said I’ll never make it on my own…”
“Good thing you’re not on your own,” Trinity whispered.
“Huh?”
“Nothing, keep talking." She was proud of herself for being able to express that out loud, but it still felt uncomfortable.
“...that’s about it, just the usual stuff about my mother resenting me for leaving the farm.” Dennis replied, preoccupied by ordering their Indian food and adding his payment information.
“I’m not telling you, because duh, you’re such a Fuckleberry, but I understand. I’m always one door away if you wanna watch shitty reality TV."
“Thank you, Trinity.” Dennis put his phone down with a grin. "And thank you for letting me stay with you.”
“Don’t mention it, Denny.”
The food arrived and they spent the rest of the evening judging each other on how far they would go if they were in Survivor.
Both Trinity and Dennis silently acknowledged how glad they were to be roommates.