The Cult of Romeo

V. Pulled From Slumber

Act 1, Scene 5

I threw my knuckle against Khaleel Rahim's dorm door and didn't stop until it was slowly opened by a stranger with masses of black curls. He groggily rubbed his eyes and squinted them against the harsh light of the corridor. I vaguely recognised him as one of Julien's friends. 

"Mini Monet?" He finally asked, calling me by the nickname that most of the boys in the school had graced me with. Julien thought it was very funny that he'd been dubbed as my predecessor as though he'd done anything at all exciting for Burton Abbey except crack jokes and be conventionally attractive. 

"Where's Khaleel?"

I vaguely felt guilty about waking Khaleel's roommate and him at this late hour but I wasn't sure what else to do. If I couldn't sleep before, there would be no possibility of that now. I knew I couldn't tell Hawthorne or Mrs Collins but I needed somebody to know. 

The boy stepped aside and extended his arm out as if to welcome me. I didn't visit many dorm rooms but theirs looked almost identical to mine except for the decorations.

Two twin beds lay opposite one another and I could make out through the dark as clothes littered the floor and books thrown lazily across the desks. Khaleel's sleepy brown eyes widened upon seeing me standing with his roommate. He was sat up on his bed wearing only his boxers.

"Jesus, Charlie," he spoke with a deep voice dragged from slumber. "I thought we were in trouble or something."

"We are," I muttered.

My fingers were practically burning while holding the photograph. I wanted to throw it, burn it, bury it but also frame it for its beauty. Whoever was behind all this was clever, and they were playing Khaleel and me at a game we'd hadn't yet agreed to join.

"I got a note under my dorm door that said to meet in the kitchen at midnight," I began.

"And you went?" He asked incredulously. 

His roommate closed the door and turned on the lamp only to fall back onto his bed where he watched me.

"The letter said it was from you-"

"It wasn't from me."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't say. I was sure you were the one that sent me a threat."

"A threat?" Khaleel looked a lot more awake now as I saw the shadows of his face darken from the dim yellow lamp that exposed his every emotion. I sat at the edge of his roommate's bed, directly opposite Khaleel, and handed him the photo.

He read the words over and over again before flipping it around to the photograph. His eyebrows shot up and he didn't dare drag his gaze away.

"I'm Vincent, by the way," his roommate yawned. He sprawled across his bed and leaned against his elbows to look up at me. "You didn't look like you recognised me."

I threw a weak smile as the name rang a bell. He had dark bags under his strikingly hazel eyes and freckles that peppered his light brown skin. His front tooth was chipped and I assumed it had something to do with the rugby boots that sat beside his bedside table and the school team hoodie that peeked from his drawers that were overflowing with clothes.

"I'm Charlie," I answered finally.

There was a clear divide between Khaleel and Vincent's sides of the room. Vincent's side had clothes and trainers thrown across the floor, posters of rugby teams and barely clothed women in suggestive poses. Khaleel's side was messy too, but a different type of messy. It was a perfectly placed mess of papers, books and pictures. Only in the middle of their respective territories was a poster of The Cure and The Rolling Stones as a peace treaty between the two to tie the room together.