The Institution

Chapter 7: Please Don't Murder Me, I Value My Head

It was an hour before midnight on Wednesday night and I was curled up in bed with a book when Arthur finally showed up.

As usual, he barged in without a word of greeting, dumped his football gear at the foot of his bed, and then threw himself into his desk chair. I kept my eyes down, fixed on the page I'd been reading a moment before, but the words bled together. My entire body was tense. I waited for Arthur to make the first move, but my roommate seemed bent on ignoring me. I chanced a glance at him; he was staring at his laptop, his features illuminated by the bluish glow from the screen.

His face was haggard; there were dark shadows under his eyes, which were weary and haunted. The events of the past few days had undoubtedly taken their toll on him.

"Have you really got nothing better to do than to stare at me?" Arthur suddenly snapped without turning his head.

I jumped and hastily looked away.

"What's wrong, never seen a gay man in the flesh before?" Arthur spat.

"No," I said. "I mean, yes, I have-"

I grimaced and forced myself to stop talking while I organized my thoughts. I scrambled for the words to my apology, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what I had planned on saying to him.

Arthur was still glowering at his computer screen. "It's not a disease, you're not going to catch it from me by sleeping in the same room."

I swallowed, shaking my head. "I know that."

"If you're going to have a problem with it go ask the RA for a room change. I'm sure they'd be happy to accommodate you elsewhere once they hear that I'm gay," he sneered.

"Look Arthur, I really don't have a problem with you being gay."

Arthur abruptly stood up and turned his back on me. He strode over to the closet and began rummaging through the drawers, as though moving around would keep him from hurling something across the room.

"I know," I began hesitantly, "that we started off on the wrong foot-"

There was a muffled snort from the closet.

"-but I'm really not going to tell anyone if you don't want me to-"

A drawer slammed loudly and Arthur emerged, gripping his pajamas tightly.

"Like hell you will!" he shouted. "You had no right- sticking your nose where it doesn't belong-!"

"I know," said I again. "I'm sorry." I really am though. I wonder how many times I'll have to tell Arthur that until the guy actually believes me.

Arthur was shaking his head. "No. No you're not. You wanted dirt on me and you found it. Are you happy now? You can finally have your revenge."

"I don't want revenge for anything."

"You know what, I hope you do change rooms!" yelled Arthur. He clearly wasn't listening to a word I said. "I don't want to live with a homophobic moron like you!"

He seized his graphing calculator off his desk and chucked it at my face. I ducked just in time. It smashed against the cinderblock wall behind me, the pieces raining down onto my mattress.

As I shielded my face from the flying plastic, I distantly reflected that Arthur could really use some work on his anger management skills.

"I'm not going to change rooms, Arthur, I swear I don't care-"

"Like HELL you don't!" shouted Arthur. He was beside himself; and in that a moment he looked slightly deranged. "All my life, I've had to pretend like I'm- like I don't- I can't-" he spluttered, incapable of forming a complete sentence in his fury. "And for God's sake- will you stop staring at me!"

"You're the one staring at me!"

We glared at each other from across the room.

Arthur growled deeply in his throat and tore off his shirt, replacing it with the one he usually slept in. He then seized his tangled bedcovers and pulled them back so violently that they were ripped from the bed. He angrily hastened to tuck the edges back into the mattress.

I'll admit it- in that moment, I was pretty scared of him. But if the little voice in the back of my head was right, then Arthur was even more terrified than I was.

"If you'd stop shouting for two seconds, I can explain that I really, honestly don't have a problem with you being gay. Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

"Because I know it's a lie," Arthur spat.

"It's not. I would never lie about something like that."

"Yeah, well I never thought you'd invade my privacy either."

"Arthur-"

"Go ahead, out me to the rest of the school. I dare you."

"Will you just shut up for a second?"

A split second later I realized what I had said, and felt like throwing up. Arthur slowly turned around to face me. His cheeks were purpling and there was a vein pulsing in his forehead like a psychotic earthworm. I spoke before it could explode all over me or before Arthur decided to murder me on the spot.

"I know what it's like," I began quietly, "to be picked on... bullied... for being different. I understand how it feels to have to hide who you really are. It's lonely, and it hurts. I could never do that to you."

There was a deafening silence as Arthur weighed the meaning of my words.

"You didn't change rooms when you first met me, and I'm probably the most socially awkward person you've ever met- well, aside from Alfie-"

"Who's Alfie?" interrupted Arthur in confusion.

"Oh- he's the red haired guy who asked you about your socks in the laundry room," I said distractedly.

"What- How did you- Were you spying on me then too?" he spluttered furiously.

"No," I said quickly, "but it doesn't matter- my point is that I'm not going to change rooms now, not for the stupid reason of you being gay. I mean, in the end, who really cares?"

Arthur was looking at me like he'd never seen anything quite like me before. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was tense. He started to pace agitatedly before his bed, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"How do I know that I can trust you?" he finally asked, peering uncertainly at me over the top of his hands.

"Of course you can trust me," I said. "Look, I'll prove it. Close your eyes and fall backwards. I'll catch you."

Arthur looked revolted at the very idea.

I sighed. "Listen- I realize that I'm not exactly your friend-"

Arthur snorted loudly. I'm pretty sure I saw some snot hit the floor.

"-and I know that I'm probably the last person on this planet who you'd want to confide in- but I just want you to know, that I respect you. I don't care if you're gay. And if you ever need to talk to someone about it, I'm always happy to lend an ear."

He stopped pacing to stare at me again. His jaw was dangling halfway open and he wore a rather dazed expression, as if he'd taken a frying pan to the face.

"I really am sorry I walked in on you," I stressed. "It was my fault, it was a horrible mistake, and it won't happen again."

For a while Arthur didn't move. I waited for him to speak but he didn't do that either. In the end, all he did was jump onto his bed, crawl under his covers, and turn off the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness.

It was as good as I could hope for, I thought, as I set my book aside and settled down into my own bed. I brushed bits of graphing calculator off my pillow, pulled the covers up to my chin, and closed my eyes. Try as I might, though, I couldn't fall asleep. I lay awake for a long time, blinking up at the darkened ceiling, lost in thought. I knew that across from me Arthur was doing the same, because his usual snores were absent.

It wasn't until the sky began to lighten outside the curtained windows that I finally drifted off.