It was over twenty four hours since the party at Luke Wellington's house, and Arthur still hadn't returned to the dorm room.
I woke on Sunday morning and awaited his return on tenderhooks, wringing my hands so often that I developed blisters on my pointer fingers, and glancing toward the door every time there was a noise out in the hallway. The dull vibrations of footsteps on carpet repeatedly sent me bolting upright in bed or behind my desk, straining my ears, only for me to realize moments later that it was merely one of the other boys from my floor, treading past the room....
I ran over what I planned on saying to him in my head, over and over again, a relentless mantra playing like a drum inside my aching skull and beating in tune with the throbbing migraine behind my eyes until I knew the words to my apology by heart.
But Arthur didn't come back.
I went to bed that night with my heart in my throat and my eyes stinging.
The shrill call of my alarm clock woke me up on Monday morning at seven o'clock sharp. I slapped the buzzer off and deliriously blinked my suroundings into existence. The dorm was dark and quiet. Through a gap in the window shade beside me I could see that the sky outside was purple with storm clouds. Raindrops were sprinkled across the window pane, glistening in the weak light of the streetlamp in the courtyard below. As I watched, a lone crackle of lightening streaked across the gloom.
I held my breath and counted inside my head: One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi, Four-
A dull rumble echoed across the earth and up through the floorboards. My bedposts shook. The windowpane rattled.
I glanced at Arthur's side of the room. The bed was empty, the unmade sheets at the foot knotted and cold.
I stared at it for a long time without moving. Then I blinked, squeezing my eyelids shut. I slowly pulled them open again.
The bed was still empty.
Another rumble of thunder tolled, and the window rattled angrily. I decided it was time to get out of bed.
After silently dressing myself in jeans and a hoodie, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and dejectedly slipped out the door, locking it behind me.
The storm came and went, as did Monday afternoon. And by Monday evening, when I folded my sheets back and settled under my covers once more, Arthur's bed hadn't been touched.
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The Institution
FantasySocially awkward Ethan Montgomery never expected his freshman year of college to be easy, but he has to admit that even by his low expectations things are getting quite out of hand. Because that’s the way things tend to go when you’re juggling newf...
