"I need space." Those were the words Jacky said to Ryan the night before they both left for separate colleges. Now, each of them will try to learn who they are without the other. Will their paths lead them back together?
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Light sliced through the window, straight into his eyes. Jacky winced and rolled over with a groan.
"For the love of God, shut the blinds!" rasped a voice from across the room.
Jacky's eyes snapped open, grainy and raw, and remembered that he was at college now. He was sharing a dorm room with his ex-boyfriend Billy. And his head felt like a giant had his skull between thumb and forefinger and was squeezing it like a grape.
"Shut 'em yourself," he rumbled, and pulled the covers over his head. His own breath kicked back at him. Stomach twisting, he threw the covers off and jumped off the bed—
--forgetting his bed was up on risers.
He fell the extra two feet to the floor, slamming his knees. "Fuck!" he snarled as he hit the minifridge. But then he scrambled to his feet and slid on his socks to the door, flinging it open before blearily orienting himself to the location of the bathroom, where he pushed open a stall door and fell to his knees again, just before his stomach unleashed holy hell on the porcelain.
By the time he was done retching, Billy had joined him in the bathroom. Red hair mussed, dark circles under his eyes, Billy looked down at Jacky and said, "Lightweight."
"Yeah, losing an arm'll do that," Jacky muttered. He got to his feet and turned on one of the sink faucets so he could stick his mouth under to slurp enough water to rinse his mouth out. Then he let the cool water run over his face.
When he rose to standing, Billy was watching him through the mirror as one might watch someone pick their nose and eat it.
"What?"
"This is a communal bathroom." Billy spread toothpaste on his electric toothbrush and it whirred to life.
Jacky rolled his eyes and used a paper towel to wipe his face before returning to the room and checking his phone. His heart stuttered upon seeing the numbers that said he was about to be late to his first ever college class. "Fuck! Shit!"
He could also see a ton of notifications, but he didn't have time to look at those. He ripped off his shirt—Billy's shirt—and tugged on a black one, decided his jeans from last night were fine, jammed on his shoes, and checked the books in his messenger bag. He pulled out all the books that weren't for his Practices of Academic Writing course and threw the strap over his head. Before he bolted out the door, he shoved his phone and keys in his pocket and started running.
He found his way across campus to the building his class was in, envying those students who looked well-rested, who had maybe had time to get breakfast before class. After, he told himself. He couldn't remember when the cafeteria stopped serving breakfast, but there was also a Dunkin Donuts right near there so he wouldn't starve. His stomach was already rumbling. I just threw up, he thought bitterly at his body. Make up your mind.
