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(iris)
* * *
Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls could be heard from down the hall—definitely not a good sign.
Granted, there was a chance that someone else on my floor suddenly found themselves harboring the urge to get all up in their feelings and blast what happened to be James' favorite song—at a volume so loud, I was fairly certain the people three floors below us could hear it.
More than anything, I wanted that to be true. I wanted someone else to be miserable enough to listen to the downright depressing song, but it didn't seem likely.
I knew my hallmates; their music tastes didn't stretch much beyond rap and country—mostly country, though, which was fitting considering our school's location in Southern Virginia. It was a common occurrence to enter the bathroom and hear someone playing Brad Paisley as they showered. On top of that, they only seemed to stick to the recent hits; if any of them ever listened to a song released before the 2000s, I'd be surprised.
So, it seemed as if the only person who could possibly be listening to that song was my roommate.
With each step I took towards my room, I found myself praying that someone else had stumbled across the song and had taken it upon themselves to share it with the rest of the floor. I'm not even religious, but I figured if there really was a god, he'd sense my desperation and help me out. He wouldn't turn away someone who truly needed his help, right?
Apparently, he would, because as it turned out, my room was the origin of the noise. This could only mean one of two things: either James had watched The Red Wedding for the millionth time and was crying over Robb Stark's death or he was dealing with boyfriend issues.
Considering his HBO subscription had been cancelled last month—an attempt by his parents to limit the number of distractions he had—and his boyfriend was probably one of the worst people to walk the planet, I was fairly certain it was the latter. I could not have been less thrilled to be right.
I slowly pulled my key out of my pocket, and proceeded to unlock the door, all the while preparing myself for what was waiting for me inside. I wasn't sure what to expect; with James, anything was possible.
Upon entering the room, there were a few things that immediately became apparent. First, all the lights were off and the shutters were closed, leaving the room devoid of any light, save for the small glow that James' desk lamp was emanating—it was barely anything, but it was still something. At least we weren't both plunged in complete darkness.
Second, James had abandoned his usual spot at his desk for his bed. He was laying in fetal position, holding on to his pillow for dear life—as if he were drowning, and it was the one thing he needed to stay afloat.
