Chapter Text
The soft sighs emitting from the machines and the constant beeping from the heart monitor comfort me a little. I sit in the same uncomfortable, brown leather chair beside his bed, holding his small hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. The constant noise in the room tells me that he is alive and that there is still hope that he will be okay. Someday, just not today.
“I’m putting on a brave face for mom, but I’m really nervous,” I tell him quietly, resting my elbows against the side of the bed as I lean closer as I tell him my secrets. “Trost University is… it’s a big deal for us, you know? But it’s so far away. I’m worried to leave you guys on your own.”
Angelo is still, not responding to my words at all. His thick, curly hair is getting longer and he looks taller, even if he’s only laying in the hospital bed. It’s been this way for two months now, and while I’m comforted by the sighs of the machine breathing for him and the heart monitor that keeps a constant pulse, it’s also nauseating. Angelo, who can’t even breathe for himself, can’t seem to wake up, even after the blunt of his injuries have healed.
“This is good for us,” I say, trying to convince myself more than him at this point. “When I graduate and get a good job at a hospital, I’ll be able to take care of you and mom. No more hospital bills, no more comas… it’ll be just like before, except even better.”
I sigh myself, looking at the watch on my wrist. It’s almost noon now, and my train leaves in less than an hour. Slowly pushing the chair back, I get to my feet and stretch out my legs before leaning down to place a delicate kiss on my little brother’s forehead.
“Wish me luck, Angelo,” I whisper to him, smiling as I ruffle his hair. “Stay well. I’ll come visit this weekend and tell you all about college.”’
I grab my suitcase on my way out, pausing in the doorway to look back for a moment, before I’m leaving the ICU ward and heading for the elevators. A nurse at the station smiles sympathetically to me on my way, and I offer her a nod in thanks, doing my best to give her a smile, too. It’s hard, though, when you’re in the worst ward of the hospital. The ICU is where a lot of people don’t make it, and the fact that Angelo is stuck here for who knows how much longer makes me sick to my stomach.
It’s a short walk to the bus stop from the hospital and I know the route by heart after all the visits to Angelo. I wait patiently, kicking at the sidewalk a little bit as I wait for the bus to arrive. Absently, I check my phone for text messages, but there are none to distract me further. I’m forced to continue thinking about the fact that today, I am moving to Trost University where I will be living for the next year of my life.
Trost University is one of the best. The fact that someone like me got in is pretty impressive, especially considering the fact that my mother certainly had no part in knowing the dean and it was based strictly on my grades.
But it’s also a good four hour train ride away. Away from my single mother who is struggling to pay rent for our tiny house and pay the hospital bills. Without me putting in additional money from my job to help, I’m worried she’ll over work herself. But I know that if I don’t go this year, my chance will be gone and I’ll never get to study and someday take care of them.
I sigh again. I’ve been doing it a lot lately. I make a mental note to work on that so people actually want to be my friend when I get to school.
The bus pulls up to the curb and I scan my card as I get on, heading for the back to take a seat. The world blurs by as we drive and I nervously drum my fingers against my legs as I wait for my stop to come up. It’s only a ten minute ride from the hospital to the train station, and when I get up to get off, I feel my legs shake a little.
The bus driver smiles to me as I get off and I try to do the same, though I’m sure it looks pitiful.
For the four hour train ride, I sit by myself in a seat looking out the window. I try to focus my mind on anything other than meeting my roommates and getting lost on the big campus. At first, I try to read, but quickly realize how difficult that will be. After that, I try listening to music to calm me down, but even one wrong note sends chills down my spine and I’m forced to stop that, too. I try to sleep, even, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed long enough to fall into a deep sleep, though I do manage to doze off every once in a while for about fifteen minutes.
When the train stops in Trost, I gather my suitcase from the overhead compartment and step out into the station. It’s a nice, cool day for fall and the city view is beautiful. I can’t help but admire all the big buildings that reach high up into the sky – it’s nothing like back home. The entire train station is busy and there are so many people that it’s making me dizzy.
I leave the station and am greeted by several cars and shuttle buses. I get on the nearest shuttle, knowing that it’s far cheaper than a taxi cab would be.
“Where are you headed?” the driver asks me, holding a tablet in his hands with a GPS open.
“Trost University,” I tell him, holding my head high. My nerves have been covered by excitement as I look around, seeing so many new and different things. I watch as he puts in the address and gets directions, getting into the driver seat. There are four other people that need to be dropped off, but he says I’m going to be the second one.
“Trost, eh?” a young man says, looking in my direction. I give a small nod, an excited smile plastered on my face. “Good for you. That’s the best college we’ve got ‘round here.”
“Yes, sir,” I say in the cheeriest tone I can muster.
He smiles and nods to my suitcase. “Judging from how excited you look, you must be a freshman.”
“Yeah, I am!” I tell him, hardly able to contain my emotions at this point. I shift in my seat, anxious to get to be outside of the bus again and walking around, exploring the new city that will be my home for the next full year.
“Well, good luck, kid,” he says as the bus stops in front of a business district. He’s the first to exit the shuttle bus, offering a small wave as he leaves.
The bus continues on through the busy streets of Trost. I admire from the window all the people walking around and heading into little shops and cafes for lunch breaks at work. We even pass Trost Trauma Hospital, the hospital that someday, I want to intern at as a resident surgeon.
This time, I sigh happily as I imagine myself as a doctor, providing for both mom and Angelo in a nice house here in Trost. Everything could be so much better if I just give it the right amount of time to study.
“Trost University,” the driver announces, parking near two huge stone pillars, over top the letters read ‘TROST UNIVERSITY’ and as soon as I see it, my stomach tumbles again. I get out of the bus, thanking him as I pull my suitcase out with me. Moments later, the shuttle bus is gone and I’m standing in front of my future with nothing but a suitcase.
So I take my first step with my chin held high and butterflies in my stomach.
I walk around campus for a good twenty minutes trying to find my dorm building. I manage to find the pavilion and food court, where a lot of people are lounging around and playing video games on big screen TVs and eating pizza, as well as the S. L. Library building, which is beautiful with big stone pillars and bookshelves that go from floor to ceiling. But none of these places are my dorm, so I keep walking around aimlessly, knowing that I have to find it soon because it’s already starting to get a little bit colder with the sun going down.
I stop into another building, the Jason C. Black building, hoping to ask for directions. The halls are mostly empty, so I keep walking for a bit and manage to make it to a lounge spot with couches and tables set up for students to study throughout the days.
My eyes are drawn to a flyer on the nearby wall and I walk closer to get a better look at it. Posing for an art class, I nod to myself, noticing that the pay is particularly well. Doesn’t sound half-bad.
“You interested in being a model?” a quiet voice says from behind me. I jump a little, turning and craning my neck to look up at this guy. He’s taller than I am, though only by about a head, and his hair is dark. He’s dressed in gym clothes with a towel hanging from his shoulder and he’s sweaty – obviously must have been out jogging.
“I, uh, I don’t know,” I stutter a bit awkwardly. “I mean, would I be okay for it?”
The guy looks me up and down – literally! For a simple pose for the art students to draw, this seems a little sketchy and I awkwardly shift my weight. Finally, his dark eyes meet mine again and he offers a small smile.
“You’d be perfect,” he tells me. “I’m Bertholdt, by the way. I arrange models for the freshman and sophomore art classes.”
He offers his hand to shake and I take it happily, though I notice it is a bit sweaty. “I’m Marco Bodt,” I reply kindly. “Actually, do you think you could maybe point me in the direction of the dorm buildings?”
“Sure! What building are you staying in?”
I pull out a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket and smooth it out against the wall. My class schedule is written down as well as, at the bottom, the words Dormitory Rose.
“Rose,” I reply, folding it more neatly this time and placing it back into my pocket. “I’m just a little… overwhelmed. The campus is huge.”
Bertholdt smiles again and, sensing the sweat dripping down from his forehead, he wipes it up with his towel. “Actually, I’ve got some friends staying in that dorm building. I was just over there a while ago. I could walk you there, if you wanted, so you don’t get lost again.”
“That would be really great. Thank you so much!”
I follow Bertholdt out of the Jason C. Black building and he leads me across campus over a bridge. I keep looking around, still amazed by how large this place is – like a whole different world from back home. My suitcase drags behind me as I keep even with Bertholdt’s pace, though it’s a bit of a brisk walk for me even if my legs are nearly as long as his are.
We arrive in front of a large building made of white and pale blue stone. Bertholdt uses his I.D. card to get in the door and I follow after him. The lobby is sort of like a hotel – some couches, a nice TV and a little computer station. There’s even a front desk where a short girl with blonde hair is sitting. She looks up at us and smiles brightly, waving to Bertholdt.
“Hey, Christa,” Bertholdt says, leaning against the counter. “I was wondering if you could find Marco’s room for him.”
“Absolutely!” the girl – Christa – says cheerily. She smiles at me and clicks on her computer screen, bringing it back to life. “What’s your last name, Marco?”
“Bodt,” I supply for her and she types it in.
“You’re going to be in room 432. It’s on the fourth floor and to the right.” She slides over a key to me and smiles. “The elevators and stairs are that way.”
Bertholdt smiles at me and looks at the number on the key. “You’re roommates with my boyfriend,” he says and I feel my face go a bit red. I hadn’t even realized. “I was just up there a little while ago hanging out. The other guy seems cool, too. Want me to walk you up there?”
Shamelessly, I offer a nod of my head because I’m nervous again and somehow, Bertholdt is a bit of a comfort. He walks with me to the elevators and presses the number four. It’s a short ride, but when the doors open, I can’t help the flip my stomach does. I pull my suitcase behind me, walking with Bertholdt down the hall. Then, finally, we’re standing in front of room 432.
I use my key to open the door.
“Hey, you’re back!” a tall, very muscular blonde guy says as Bertholdt and I enter the room. I shut the door behind me and leave my suitcase there, watching as the two men embrace and the blonde one kisses him. Must be his boyfriend, I think as my eyes scan the room.
There’s a bathroom that’s pretty basic with two doors – one for the side with two beds and one desk, and one that leads to the other side of the room with one bed and a desk. As I’m looking around, I feel a strange tingling in the back of my neck and it feels like someone is watching me. Soon enough, my eyes meet with a pair of brown ones that are looking at me with a slight scowl.
He’s sitting in the chair at the desk looking at me. He’s thin and tall, though I’m positive that I’m taller, and he has an undercut with sandy brown hair on top. His features are sharp – pointed nose, pointed chin and even his lips are set in a thin line – and it makes him extremely intimidating.
“Who the fuck are you?” he says, though his tone is neither mean or nice.
“I-I’m Marco,” I stutter a bit, feeling uncomfortable with how irritated he looks. “Um, I’m staying in this dorm.”
His eyebrows pull together and he looks up at the blonde guy and Bertholdt for an explanation.
“Oh, shit sorry, Jean!” the blonde guy says with a loud laugh. “Bertholdt isn’t our other roommate. But he will probably be around often so you can think of him as one.”
The guy, Jean, looks at me again. Before I can get too uncomfortable under his gaze, the blonde guy moves into my line of vision, blocking out Jean. He claps a hand over my shoulder and I feel my nerves sort of melt away because at least he’s smiling at me.
“I’m Reiner, nice to meet yah, Marco,” he says, taking my hand and shaking it firmly.
“You, too,” I mumble politely. “Which bed will be mine?”
“Well, since I got here first, I already claimed the one bed on the other part of the room to myself,” Reiner explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “So you and Jean are going to be out here.”
I gulp as I look around Reiner and back to Jean. He’s not looking at me anymore and is instead texting someone from his cell phone in his hand, a bored expression on his face. I can already see that he’s picked his bed and unpacked a little.
“Okay,” I say like it’s not a problem, but I’m a little nervous because Jean doesn’t seem like the type of guy to like me too much.
Reiner and Bertholdt head to his side of the room through the bathroom and shut the door, leaving Jean and I alone. I pull my suitcase to my side and set it on my bed to start unpacking what I brought. There is a small wardrobe for my clothes and I put them away neatly, ignoring the feeling of Jean watching my every move, and I make my bed with my blankets and pillows from home.
I didn’t bring a lot, so it only takes me a few minutes to unpack. Afterwards, I put my suitcase under my bed and sit down, opening my mouth to try and start a conversation with my new roommate. But when I look at him again, he’s got headphones over his ears and his back is turned to me, leaning over something he’s writing or drawing in his notebook on the desk.
I sigh, laying out across my bed. Maybe my future isn’t looking as great as I had hoped.
I wake up early the next morning. It’s the first day of classes and that has me all nervous again. I take my time getting dressed in my favorite, green sweater to comfort me, but it feels itchy today. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I work on packing my bag with my books and notebooks and pens and pencils as neatly as possible to take my mind off the ticking clock.
Jean sleeps until the last possible minute before he needs to get up for class. When his phone starts blaring heavy metal music as his alarm, I jump and he slams his finger around until it shuts up. I watch as he rolls around under his sheets for a moment before opening one eye up and squinting against the sunlight.
I look away, chewing the inside of my lip, because I’m not sure if I should bid him a good morning or not. He’s just so grumpy and even last night, we didn’t talk at all after the little mix up of him thinking Bertholdt was their third roommate.
“What time do you got class?” he mumbles sleepily, stretching as he gets out of bed.
“Me?” I ask dumbly, looking around. He just gives me a deadpan expression and I cough into my fist awkwardly. “At 9:30 in the science lab.”
Jean nods and heads to the bathroom to get himself ready. For the next twenty minutes I sit on my bed playing with my phone, looking at the screen to distract myself. No new text messages from my old friends, and it’s not one of those new, cool iPhones so I don’t have the internet on it. I sigh again, putting it into my pocket and putting my bag over my shoulder.
Maybe I’ll just head there a little early so I don’t get lost again, I decide, pulling on my black boots that are by the door. Just as I’m about to leave, Jean walks out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his thin waist and a toothbrush dangling from between his lips.
He looks at me, ready to leave, and then at the clock on the desk.
For some reason, even though he didn’t ask, I feel like I owe him an explanation. “I’m just going early so I don’t get lost,” I tell him and he shrugs, walking to his wardrobe and pulling out a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt with a jean jacket to go over the top. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”
I slip out the door just as he’s about to start getting dressed and hurry down the hall to the elevator. I wait for a few minutes for it, but by the time the doors open and I step inside, I see Jean walking toward me with his satchel hanging over his shoulder and his hands in his pockets. I hold the door for him so he doesn’t have any reason to dislike me later, and he steps in.
We ride to the first floor with silence between us, though a nice tune plays overhead. I tap my foot a little and he ignores me and it’s the closest we’ve really come to friendship.
We both exit the dorm building and head in the same direction, over the bridge. The science lab is located within the Garrison Building and I remember walking by it yesterday when I was lost on campus. I keep heading in the general direction of it, walking a bit slower to admire all the architecture and how nice the campus is. There are students seated outside on benches talking and laughing; people riding bikes through campus and even the people driving in cars seem friendly enough.
“Are you following me or something?” Jean says, turning to look at me over his shoulder. I glance at him and then at the Garrison building, which is right in front of me, and I shake my head.
“No, my class is in this building,” I tell him, slowing my pace. He stops and looks at me, squinting his eyes as if he’s looking through me. “Wh-what?”
“My class is in this building, too,” he finally says before heading inside. I follow after him and clear my throat awkwardly as we, once again, board the same elevator. “What class are you going to?”
“Chemistry with Professor Pixis.”
Jean cocks one eyebrow up and replies, “Me, too.”
My stomach drops as the elevator stops. On one hand, I should be happy that I’ll have at least one familiar face in my first class to make the transition not so… scary. But on the other hand, the fact that it’s Jean makes me even more nervous, because I can’t tell if he dislikes me or not.
Maybe he’s just always angry looking, I try to tell myself as we both head down the hall together. By together, I mean that I walk behind him because it’s narrow and the last thing I want is to be invading his personal space. Maybe he’s actually really nice and friendly after you get to know him. Like, rough edges or something.
He steps into the classroom first and I follow. It’s a simple enough room – black counter tops on all the lab stations with two stools per station. Most of them are filled with students already awaiting the professor’s arrival. I take it upon myself to quickly take an empty one, setting my bag on the counter top and taking out my notebook and Chemistry textbook.
I glance up and notice Jean looking around the room before finally heading over to my station. He glances at me before sitting down and I’m a little shocked, though I feel a smile coming on because if he chose to sit with me, he can’t dislike me too much.
“Is it cool if I sit here?” he says, putting his bag on the counter top.
“Yeah, of course!” I tell him a bit too enthusiastically. He gives me a strange look and I look away, sort of embarrassed.
“God,” he says, “you’re a morning person, aren’t you?”
I blink a few times before I realize that this is probably a joke. Then I smile at him, small and a little intimidated still, but he returns it with a cheeky one. Any doubt I had about Jean hating me disperses and I’m free to stop being so nervous around him. No more tip toeing around the dorm, either.
Professor Pixis enters the room then. He’s a tall old man with a gray mustache and he’s wearing a sweater vest that’s clearly from the 70s. He stands in front of the class and looks at each of us for a long moment, and this takes up to two minutes, before he says anything.
“We’ll start with an icebreaker,” he says and everyone groans. “The seats you’re at now will be yours for the semester. You and the person you’re sitting with are partners.”
He places a copy of the icebreaker activity on everyone’s table before telling us to begin and that, yes, we will be graded on our answers.
“An interview?” I say, taking the paper and looking it over. Jean opens his notebook and takes out a pencil, taking the paper from me so I can do the same.
“This is stupid,” he informs me, letting the paper fall back to the table. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Let’s just get it out of the way,” I tell him, mostly because I can’t afford to not do well on a graded assignment. “First and last name?”
“Jean Kirschtein.”
“Do you have any nicknames?” I ask after writing his name down in my notebook.
“Nope,” he says, emphasizing on the end ‘pah’ noise.
“Where is your hometown?” I ask, pausing to look at him.
“Here,” he replies in a bored tone of voice.
“Do you have any siblings?” He shakes his head in response and I write none on the paper. “Okay, what’s your special talent, hobby or interest?”
“I don’t have one,” he says simply. “I’m good at everything I do.”
“…Okay. What are you studying?”
“Undecided.” He takes the paper of questions from and starts to go over them himself. “I like rock music and I don’t read. Favorite movie? Jesus, how vague can this thing get?”
“You don’t have a favorite movie?” I ask after writing down all his answers.
“I like movies but I mean, a favorite? How can you pick just one?”
“Well, just list one or two then so we can move on to the next question,” I say a bit impatiently. I don’t have time to dilly dally around with his bad attitude toward the assignment.
“Put down Fight Club, I guess,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “What’s next?”
“Three words that describe you,” I say.
“Awesome, attractive and great.”
Of course, I sigh as I write out his answers. I look up at him expectantly, ready to answer the questions myself, though a little bit easier than he had.
“Oh, right,” Jean says picking up his pencil. “Name is Marco Bodt. Got a nickname, Marco?”
“Not really,” I say. “I’m from Jinae City. It’s south from here.”
He writes it down and then looks at the paper for the next question. “Got any siblings, Marco?”
“One. A younger brother.” My chest tightens at the mention of Angelo.
“Special talents or whatever?”
“Nothing, really,” I reply chewing on my bottom lip. “I’m not very good at anything except studying.”
“So, what are you studying?”
“Pre-med,” I reply. “Oh and I really like classic music and stuff like The Beatles. My favorite books are, uh, the Percy Jackson series. I used to read those a lot when I was younger.”
Jean gives me a look like I’ve said too much. I look away from him and pick at a fraying edge in my notebook to distract myself. Before he can ask, I tell him that I really like Tim Burton movies.
“Okay, three words to describe yourself and we’re done with this shitty assignment.”
“Um, I guess shy, tall and uh, freckles?” I say a bit awkwardly. Jean laughs at my last word and writes it down before tearing the sheet out from his notebook to hand in. I do the same after writing my name on the top of the page so I’ll get credit for it.
We sit back down and wait for everyone else to finish so Professor Pixis can start the lecture. Sitting next to Jean, I sneak a glance at him as he checks his phone, typing out a text message to someone. His mouth is set in a thin line again and I find myself thinking that he looks so much better when he’s laughing.
I sigh and put my head down on the table.