"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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Jacky knew before he opened his eyes that he was not in his own bed. The pillowcase beneath his cheek was soft, almost satiny, a far cry from the stiff cotton sheets his mom had bought him for college.
Then he realized someone was pressed up against his back. It wasn't like when he was the little spoon with Ryan. They were sleeping back-to-back, whoever it was.
Jacky cracked his eyes open and nearly cursed out loud.
He immediately recognized the Rent poster on the wall. The one he stared at from across the room every fucking day.
He had two options: lay here awkwardly until Billy woke up, which might not be for hours, or rudely awaken Billy as he climbed out of bed and when Billy did wake up, demand to know whether or not they'd had sex.
He chose the latter.
"Ow, fuhhh—" Billy moaned, lifting what appeared to be a gel eyemask as Jacky leapt to the ground and nearly fell on his face. "Ah, good morning, my lovely roommate."
"Did we fuck last night?" Jacky demanded.
Billy's lips pursed in silent laughter.
"If you don't tell me, so help me God—"
"If we had fucked," Billy interrupted languidly, "you would know it."
Jacky grabbed his sweatpants from where he kept them under the pillow on his own bed. "I don't even remember how we got back last night, it's conceivable I might have done something I'd regret."
"Oh, don't be dramatic." Billy rolled onto his back and slipped the gel mask back over his eyes. "You were so drunk you were practically undressing in the hallway, and then you climbed into my bed and promptly fell asleep. I would have been a gentleman and slept in your bed, but honestly, your sheets need to be washed."
Jacky jammed one leg into his sweatpants, then the other. He didn't know which part of this story was worse: taking his shirt off in the hallway – and he hoped it was just his shirt, and he wasn't pulling down his pants – while Braedyn watched, or crawling into Billy's bed like he had some unconscious desire to be there, or the idea of his sheets stinking so bad that drunk Billy wouldn't deign to sleep in them.
"I guess today is laundry day, then," Jacky grumbled. His pants on, he reached over and started ripping off his sheets. "Gotta keep things smelling sweet for Prince Billy."
"You know, next time I'll just let you pass out on someone's couch and let you find your own way home," Billy said. He rolled over in bed and faced the wall.
"That would be great," Jacky said, stuffing all his bedding into his overflowing laundry basket. When it didn't fit, he wrestled his comforter back out. That didn't need to be washed all the time, right? He didn't remember his mom washing his comforter every week like she did his sheets.
Jacky nearly left the room without putting on a shirt. He stopped himself at the door and pulled a shirt from near the top of the basket. A sniff test told him it was dirty, but it mostly smelled like spilled beer. He pulled it on, then dragged his laundry basket behind him and down the hall to the elevator.
The laundry room he'd never visited was easy enough to find, but even though it was only nine o'clock on a Saturday morning, the room wasn't empty as Jacky had hoped. And the face was a familiar one.
"Hey, Jacky," said Fox Greythorn, looking as dashing as ever even sitting cross-legged on top of a washing machine with a silver MacBook in his lap. Beside him was a steaming cardboard cup of what smelled like a Starbucks pumpkin spice latte.
"Hey." Jacky's own voice rasped with lack of sleep. He parked his laundry basket and tried to pluck the question he most wanted to ask from all of the ones swirling through his head. "I thought you lived off-campus."
"I do. But I've found that laundry rooms on a weekend night are the most peaceful, isolated places to get some writing done." Fox sipped his latte and rubbed an eye. "To be honest, I would have expected to have this place to myself for a few more hours."
"Sorry to interrupt," Jacky said without meaning it. He crammed as much as he could into one washer, then moved onto the next.
"Oh, don't worry about it. I've had some great conversations in this room. Some people have insomnia and decide to do their laundry at three a.m." Fox shrugged. "It's good material."
Jacky filled a cap with detergent and dumped it in. "Are you an English major, then?"
"Afraid so. Was it the elbow patches on my sweater?"
This guy really was flirting with him. He had to have seen the obvious by now. "What's your story about?" Jacky asked.
Fox pursed his lips. "It's about the idealism of youth, and disillusionment with the status quo, and ultimately about the descent into madness and the search for God and truth."
"Jesus, are you serious?"
Fox chuckled. "No. I write fanfiction."
Jacky coughed out a laugh. "Really? I bet that goes over well with your dad."
A shrug. "I haven't told him yet. He thinks I'm working on the Great American Novel."
After swiping his student ID to start the washers, Jacky leaned against the vibrating machine. "So what fandom?"
"You read fanfiction?" Fox arched an eyebrow.
"No, but if you wrote some Captain America fanfiction, I might have to check it out." It must have been the hangover that made him admit this out loud of his own free will.
"Alas, I write Supernatural fanfiction. Long live Destiel." Fox raised his coffee cup.
Jacky tried to stop himself from grinning and failed with a wince. "I mean, I do actually know what that is, but only because they mentioned it on the show. I'm proud of you for not shipping Dean and Sam."
"They're brothers!" Fox said with practiced desperation, and Jacky laughed.
"Well, I'll let you get back to it." Jacky eased himself away from the washer. "I'm sure you have hundreds of fans awaiting your next chapter."
Fox lifted his coffee. "Cheers."
It was only when Jacky was on the elevator back up to his room that his stomach started roiling. If he was lucky, Billy would be asleep, and Jacky could shower and run off to the dining hall for some hangover carbs, and he wouldn't have to think about why his drunk self had been so eager to jump into Billy's bed.
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I'll be updating now on Fridays instead of Wednesdays, unless I can get far enough ahead to post more!
