Chapter Text
Wilson had been an anxious person for as long as he could remember. And today was no different– if anything, it was a million times worse today.
He had been lying flat on his back in his bed, doing nothing but mindlessly stare at the ceiling for the past 30 minutes in a poor attempt to calm his nerves.
Leaving home wasn’t really as calming as he thought it would be. The ceilings just felt judging– like if they could talk, they would scream at him and tell him to get his ass back to Texas– which he obviously knew wasn’t an option.
His dorm was nothing special. It had the essentials, which was more than he was used to back at home, so he figured that it would do.
This was his first day of college ever. It wasn’t anything prestigious at all, but it was several states away from home and everyone he knew, which he tried to tell himself– and the people around him, wasn’t intentional.
Like he hadn’t just picked a random place far away from his family, from his “friends”, from him.
Him whose name he couldn’t say out loud without it leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.
At least nobody here knows who he is– here, nobody knows about how he was treated in highschool, nobody knew about Brando, and nobody could use it against him.
He took a deep breath before deciding to do something productive instead of staring at the ceiling like it might tell him what he was supposed to do, or how he was supposed to act for these next four years of his life– the years that were supposedly going to be the best years of his life.
He put his headphones on and slowly started unpacking his stuff. He tried his best to make it feel like home as much as possible, whatever home is supposed to be.
When he was done unpacking his stuff, his roommate still hadn’t shown up, which he found strange.
Wilson wasn’t expecting to become best friends with his roommate, but he prays that they’ll be someone that he can at least get along with, and someone he can stand living with for the entire next semester.
He had to leave to do mandatory group activities soon, so he decided to change from his joggers and sweatshirt, to something that would at least make him look somewhat presentable.
He put on his favourite pair of jeans and a tight fitting t-shirt, and looked at himself in the mirror one last time before leaving.
His hair was longer than last year, and he had gotten an ear piercing in his right ear.
He had gotten it a couple of days before he left home, when he had figured that he had to stop hiding who he was once he got here.
It hadn’t been a big or dramatic decision– because he wasn’t in highschool in Texas anymore, this was college in California– nobody was gonna care about who he liked, which was a feeling he had longed for for years. Meaning, that he was not going to take that for granted.
He put on a bit of eyeliner before leaving, and made his way out of his dorm.
The group activities were a blur.
Wilson had successfully introduced himself to some people without embarrassing himself– which felt like a big accomplishment.
He had even met some nice people, especially a girl named Claire, and her roommate, Maisie.
Claire was really outgoing and friendly– which is exactly what Wilson needed, since he had a hard time speaking to people first.
During icebreakers, her and Wilson had bonded over a band they both liked, and the conversation had just flowed smoothly from there.
She told him about her hopes for the future and why she decided on this college.
Wilson had listened, grateful that someone actually wanted to talk to him.
The other girl, Maisie, was more quiet, but she was really nice. She had also moved here from Texas, about an hour from where Wilson grew up.
When they were finally free to do whatever they wanted, the three of them had found themselves at a table in the cafeteria together.
Claire shared gossip about some of the new people, Wilson was extremely confused as to how she knew these things, considering the fact that she hasn’t even been here for a full day.
She also would not elaborate on how she knew, and just claimed that she quote; “has her ways”.
Wilson listened carefully, already having an idea of which type of people to not surround himself with.
“So, Wilson” Claire started all of a sudden, which snapped him out of the reverie he had been lost in, while Claire and Maisie had been discussing whether some new movie was worth watching or not.
He looked up from his food, that he had been picking at for the past 15 minutes instead of actually eating.
“You haven’t told us anything about highschool.” She said, not as an accusation, but more like a question.
Wilson felt the color drain from his face and he panicked internally. They both seemed like people he could trust– and not only because he’s extremely naive, but because they've been nothing but nice to him in the short time that they’ve known each other.
Truth is that it wasn’t because he didn’t trust them– it was just that he’d rather tie ten bricks to his feet and jump into the ocean, than utter a single word about highschool.
“I-” He couldn’t force any words out his throat and he felt his face burning.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He muttered quietly, almost imperceptibly, before going back to picking at his food with his fork.
The girls didn’t push, they just nodded and Maisie talked about the first random subject she could think of, to avoid tension forming.
Later in the evening, Wilson is lying in his bed half asleep, rewinding the memories of today in his head.
The day actually went surprisingly well.
For the first time in months, he felt free– like reaching the surface after almost drowning.
He was still in his t-shirt and jeans, and he hadn’t bothered to remove his makeup.
It already felt like his room was coming together. It was still messy, but the good kind of messy. The shelf was cluttered with books that he’ll probably never read, magazines, and photo strips of him and his sister back in Texas.
The room felt lived in, despite the fact that Wilson had only lived here for about twelve hours.
As he was about to doze off, he heard a key turn in the lock. He quickly sat up,
and before he could process what was going on– there he was.
Standing in the doorway, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
Brando.
For a moment, neither of them said anything– and what had been a calm and quiet atmosphere just a few moments ago, was replaced with something uncomfortable and filled with tension.
Wilson tried to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat before they could land.
The only thing he could do was stare back at the pair of icy blue eyes that had seen every single part of Wilson not even a year ago.
The more he looked at Brando, the more he thought; God, he looks beautiful.
He looked slightly different than last time Wilson had seen him. His hair was slightly longer and his face looked more mature– or maybe he looked the exact same, and Wilson had successfully forgotten about the details of his face.
“H-hi,” Brando finally said quietly, almost imperceptible.
“Hi,” Wilson replied in the same tone, almost like he didn’t want Brando to hear him– maybe he didn’t.
“I…uhm– I guess we’re roommates now.”
“Yeah…I–I guess.”
At this point, Wilson wanted nothing but to call it quits and kick the chair.
“You look different.” Brando’s tone was so neutral, that Wilson couldn’t tell if it was a bad thing or not.
Maybe it was just neutral– cause he did look different.
His hair was longer and he had bangs now, his ear was pierced, he was wearing eyeliner, and it was very obvious that he had been working out.
“You look exactly the same.” Was all he could choke out in response.
God, this was already going terrible.
That got a slight chuckle out of Brando. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that– so he didn’t.
He was extremely anxious, and apparently he wasn’t doing a great job at hiding it.
“I- sorry, I know this is weird.” Brando said, trying and failing to drain the tension.
Wilson wanted to open his mouth and say something, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence even if he tried.
“Uhm…I’ll just unpack my stuff and you can just pretend that I'm not here and go back to whatever you were doing.”
It was probably supposed to be a joke, but Wilson was still too shocked to react– and he was probably acting like he was high.
His mind went into fight or flight mode, and he decided to do what he had always done– he chose flight.
“Yeah, I’ll uhm… I need to go.” And with that, he stormed out the room, leaving Brando hanging alone, again
He didn’t even know where he was walking– he just knew that he needed to get away.
He had too many questions that he didn’t want to ask– not that he would’ve been able to form one if he tried.
Why on earth is he here?
Since when did he even want to go to college in california? Brando had always said that he wanted to stay in Texas forever.
Since when did Brando even want to go to college at all?
Wilson must have killed someone in his past life to deserve sharing a dorm with his former best friend, who he was–and is still– very much in love with.
He had been walking around campus for a couple of minutes. Or maybe hours, he really couldn’t tell.
He knew that he should probably head back and at least attempt to get some sleep.
But because of things changing, and him being extremely stressed, and now, Brando being here– Wilson already knew that the nightmares would come back.
It’s like they come back every time it’s most inconvenient for him.
It was never the same nightmares multiple times, but they were so vivid.
He was already dreading going to sleep, but he knew that he needed to head back.
When Wilson got back to the dorm, Brando was sitting on the bed, looking at something on his phone.
“Hey,” Brando said, looking up from his phone. His tone was careful, like Wilson was a prey, and Brando was trying not to get mauled.
He was looking up at him through his lashes, his expression soft and familiar– the expression that he always used when he could see right through him.
“Hi,” He replied, his voice small and insecure.
“I’m uhm– I'm gonna go shower.” He felt so small and weak, standing here awkwardly in front of the boy whose face he swore he never wanted to catch sight of again.
Brando let his gaze linger on Wilson’s face for a split second, a hint of melancholy taking over his eyes, like he was silently apologizing for the worst mistake of his life.
“Yeah, yeah…that’s– that’s fine.” He nodded as soon as he snapped back to reality.
Wilson stayed quiet as he made his way to the bathroom.
He stood in the shower for who knows how long–only getting out when he noticed that the hot water had run out several minutes ago.
He really did not want to exit the bathroom and face Brando– in fact, sleeping on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor sounded more appealing.
He couldn’t be bothered to do a proper hair routine, knowing damn well that he was going to regret it the next morning.
Thankfully, Brando was asleep when Wilson had made it to the main room of the dorm.
He couldn’t help but stare– not when Brando looked like this.
He looked so peaceful like this, like nothing was wrong– and maybe nothing was wrong for Brando, maybe he would be able to avoid the elephant in the room for the entire semester.
But did Wilson want him to do that? To just ignore everything they had been through together just cause neither of them wanted to have a hard conversation?
He went to sleep, already dreading the inevitable– waking up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily while trying not to wake Brando up.
Falling asleep was impossible. His clothes felt tight and uncomfortable against his skin, his hair was still wet and felt weird against his back,
he couldn’t stop spiraling in his head, and the sound of Brando’s snoring was driving him insane.
He gave up and started scrolling on his phone when he had been attempting to fall asleep for two hours.
He knew damn well that he would regret this in the morning, but he was too pissed off about everything that happened tonight, that he couldn’t really bring himself to care about getting a proper amount of sleep.
A couple of minutes turned into hours, and suddenly the sun had already risen.
Brando was still sleeping, so he took the opportunity to get ready and go to the cafeteria to grab a coffee without any awkward interactions.
He hurried, put on the same pair of jeans as yesterday and a long sleeved shirt layered underneath a short sleeved one.
Surprisingly, his hair didn’t look as bad as he had anticipated– which he took as a win.
He was doing the final touches of his makeup when Brando appeared in the doorframe of the bathroom.
“Can I brush my teeth in here, or should I wait till you’re done?” He said, his voice impossibly kind– not that fake overly sweet tone– but a tone that sounded genuine.
“Go ahead,” Wilson replied, but Brando didn’t move yet.
He hesitated before speaking, “You’ve started wearing makeup?” He finally said, still standing in the doorframe. He wasn’t making fun of him, he mostly sounded curious.
“It’s just eyeliner.” Wilson stated and instantly regretted it.
He seriously couldn’t think of anything better to say?
“Right,” Brando said with a slight chuckle.
Wilson felt so fucking stupid– he could’ve told Brando to fuck off, and it would’ve been a more appropiate thing to say in that moment.
Brando finally moved from his spot in the door frame to brush his teeth, and a thick silence filled the tiny space of the bathroom that they were crammed into.
Wilson finished his eyeliner as quickly as possible before leaving.
Being in a small room alone with Brando for that long– less than two minutes, but still too long– made him feel like he couldn't breathe– and he seriously needed a coffee.
“I’m heading out,” He mumbled before exiting the bathroom– leaving Brando alone with his thoughts and an unsettling silence.