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“So how far out are you?”
Scar nearly cursed, throwing his blinker on as he swerved to the right. “Shut up,” he snapped.
Mumbo laughed, the sound travelling pleasantly through the speaker in Scar’s car. “Guess you won’t get to pick your side of the dorm room. Or what bed you want. Or–”
This time, Scar did curse, if only to cut his friend off, pressing his foot into the gas a bit more.
It wasn’t his fault that he was late. His parents just couldn’t not pester him with goodbye hugs and conversation and walks to his car that took twenty minutes and–
And this was his freshman year of college, and he was so so so so late, and that meant he was going to get stuck with a bed that he didn’t because his roommate was probably selfish and also wanted to pick and–and–
It didn’t help that Mumbo was continually making fun of him over the phone. Some friend he was.
“Imagine being late,” the man was currently saying, while Scar made some questionable driving moves (such as running a red light). “I got here an hour early, and I got the nicer bed and the good side of the room. I know, because I checked the other one.”
Scar grumbled something under his breath. Louder, he said, “Oh, can it, Mumbo.”
The man let out a giggle-like sound. Mumbo was a few years younger than Scar, but he was insanely smart, so he’d gone off to college before him. He was a sophomore this year and had practically begged Scar to come to the same campus as him.
“We could be roommates!” he’d teased.
Of course, the college didn’t allow them to pick their roommate. It was assigned randomly, which meant that Scar was absolutely not going to get with Mumbo, as much as the two of them had wanted it.
“I’m ten minutes out,” Scar said a moment later, once again flipping his signal and switching lanes.
Mumbo hummed over the phone. “Maybe your roommate isn’t here yet?” he asked, his voice gentle now. He’d probably used up all his meanness quota for the day when he’d laughed at Scar earlier, and now he was set on helping him again. “Maybe they’re running late, too.”
Scar rolled his eyes, then realised that wasn’t the smartest move if he wanted to stay on the road. Or, you know, arrive at college in one piece. “Fat chance. Everyone gets there on time, and you know it.”
“Hmm. Everyone but you.”
And maybe he hadn’t used up all his meanness.
Scar scoffed and sloppily hung up on his friend, turning his attention to driving now.
The ten minutes went by impossibly slowly. Scar was nearly convinced that there was some sort of vendetta against him specifically that prevented him from hurrying up. But finally, after, like, six centuries (or something along those lines) he arrived at the college.
Even from the road, Scar could see that the university was flooded with cars. He cursed again, hurrying his way to student parking. It took him another five minutes to find a good spot and he scrambled out of his car like he was being chased. For all of five seconds he debated beginning to carry his things in, but–well, he wanted to see what side of the room he got first, and then worry about all that stuff.
So instead he hurried inside, digging around in his pocket and pulling out a little slip of paper. It had been mailed to his house nearly a week ago, and on it were his enrollment details: his classes and schedule, his student email and log-in, a list of his professors, etc. But most importantly?
His dorm number.
It was lucky enough that he and Mumbo were at least in the same building, even if they couldn’t be actual roommates. As it was, when Scar got near the place, he spotted the man loitering around outside.
It was easy to see him. Despite his age, Mumbo was nearly a head taller than all the people around him, so he stuck out like a sore thumb. He saw Scar just as quickly and made his way over.
“You made it!” Mumbo cheered when he saw Scar, throwing his arms around him as if he hadn’t hung up on him.
Scar merely chuckled and returned the embrace. “I did!”
They leaned away from each other, and immediately Scar’s mood soured. He stuck his tongue out, sweeping his gaze along the crowd around them. “So which one of these losers is my roommate?”
Mumbo laughed, shaking his head. “How do you expect me to know?” A small pause. “What’s your dorm number?”
Scar sighed, dramatically pulling his paper out to check. “121.”
“Hey, we’re on the same floor! Score!”
Scar grinned, sharing Mumbo’s excitement for just a moment before he started heading to the door. “Well, time to meet the person I’ll be annoying for the next nine months.”
He could almost feel Mumbo’s eyeroll, but he didn’t give it any merit. Just headed into the building, blissfully sighing as the AC greeted him, and then started looking for his room. Technically he was supposed to go to the admissions office first thing, but what was a little pit stop?
At least, that’s what he told himself. It was fine. They’d give him some slack on his first day.
Nodding to himself, Scar finally reached the hallway with the dorms, a sort of nervous grin lighting his features.
He stalked down the hallway. His dyslexia had him double and triple checking the door numbers, searching for the one that matched his sheet. Mumbo walked with him, but the taller man didn’t say much of anything, merely looking curiously on as Scar hurried about the space.
- 117. 119–
Finally, he spotted the plague that read his number, a bold 121, and he slowed his steps. The door was ajar, which meant–
Scar cursed under his breath. His roommate was here.
He allowed himself to feel frustrated for just a moment, and then he took a deep breath, attempting to cool it. It’s fine, he thought to himself. I didn’t even want to choose my bed, anyway.
Of course, he’d always been an excellent liar.
Mumbo must’ve seen this, because he smiled sadly at Scar. “Mabe next year,” he murmured, which didn’t exactly make Scar feel any better.
Scar rolled his eyes and stepped forward, preparing himself for a whole year of not getting what he wanted. A shame.
But when he looked into his room, he saw…nothing.
Okay, well, not nothing. There was a stack of suitcases and bags on the ground in the middle of the room and a man standing to the side of them, his back facing Scad.
But–but nothing was decorated. No posters or blankets. There was no bed chosen yet.
Which meant…
The man suddenly turned, maybe sensing people behind him, and he met Scar’s eyes with an almost sheepish expression. He had blondish brownish hair and pale skin and he was wearing a bright red sweater.
“Hi,” the man said after an awkward moment in which no one said anything, crossing closer to Scar. “I’m Grian.”
“Scar,” Scar said slowly, eyeing the man. “I noticed…you didn’t pick a bed yet…”
Grian blinked, looking a bit confused at the sudden topic. “Uh, no? I just got here.”
Scar opened and closed his mouth. “You were late?”
The man bristled. “Hey, you’re literally late too!”
Scar shook his head, too fast, too many times. “No, that’s great! Jeez, this fixes everything. Now I can still choose!”
His roommate looked at him, incredulous. “Hold on, now. I was here first, even if I did only just arrive.”
Scar scrunched his nose, about to argue, but…but he did have a point. And as much as Scar wanted the bed on the right, now that he was looking at it and thought it had the thicker mattress, he knew this Grian fellow had every right to choose.
How annoying.
“...what bed did you want, anyway?”
The question caught Scar off guard. He looked at Grian like he was crazy. “The right one. Why?”
Grian's lips stretched into a wide smile and he grinned. “Well, it just so happened I wanted the left one. So I guess it works out.”
Scar blinked. Surprise shifted through him, but after a moment it gave way to something like amusement. He grinned, too.
“Perfect. Let me go get my things,” he said, backing back out of the room. Grian nodded, kneeling by his bags and beginning to unpack.
Scar cheered to Mumbo the entire walk back to his car. Together, the two friends carried his bags (he didn't have much) and took them back to his dorm room.
Mumbo left them alone so Grian and Scar could set up. And they did, talking throughout it all, clicking in a way that old friends do. It was strange, but it wasn't unpleasant.
And that night, when Scar plopped on his bed (the right side), he couldn't help but grin.
Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad, after all.