In Multiples of Three ✓

3. snake

THREE
snake

Once classes started, Marcus noticed two things: one, Elliott was in his psychology course. And two, Elliott was always at Marcus' dorm and never at his own. He was convinced he'd made a home underneath Andrew's bed.

There was really no point in him being there. He and Andrew never spoke, and if they did, it was short and uninteresting. So he wasn't benefitting from being at someone else's dorm. Marcus was getting used to it, but he was also becoming agitated.

No, he was not still upset about the last time they spoke. Definitely not.

             Okay, maybe he was. But could you blame him? Elliott had acted like he knew what was good for Marcus despite just meeting him. He tried telling him what to do, and Marcus hated being told what to do. It gave him a claustrophobic feeling - a pressure to his chest, a squeezing of his lungs. It didn't feel right.

Marcus couldn't stop staring at him, though. He didn't know what it was that had him unable to keep his eyes from straying over to Elliott. He was weird. And kind of annoying. So why the fuck couldn't he get rid of the urge to look at him?

                He only snapped out of it when Andrew got up, the buzzing of his phone filling the silence. "Be right back," he said, sounding exasperated. He left the dorm and shut the door behind him, voice just barely able to be made out. Now Marcus was even more uncomfortable.

                 "Lady problems," Elliott stated suddenly, causing Marcus to frown at him. No one asked you to speak. "Him and his girlfriend fight a lot. Candace is cool as fuck, though."

                 Marcus gave him a glare. "I didn't ask."

                 "Yeah, no shit," Elliott retorted. "But I told you anyway. Freedom of speech - fuck, what was your name again?"

                  "Marcus. Now stop talking to me."

Elliott was quiet for a few moments, which led to Marcus being relieved he'd actually stopped talking. But then he said, "You really need to get laid," and ran his tongue across his bottom lip, the shine of a silver ball catching Marcus' eye. He didn't know how to respond. All he could focus on was the blatant piercing and the fact that that must've hurt like hell.

"Did that hurt?" Marcus blurted, completely ignoring what he said before. Mostly because he didn't want to think about how Elliott became attractive after that. He gestured toward him - "That piercing?"

Elliott hummed, rubbing the ball against his bottom lip. "Yeah," he admitted, shrugging. "But apparently it feels good afterward."

Marcus frowned. "What?" Then soon added in realization, "Oh." He's either a masochist or fucks a lot. Either way he's ten times weirder.

Marcus went back to working on his assignment, awkwardly clicking his pen to fill the sudden silence, and tried his best to avert his focus to the work he needed to finish. But his mind was whispering, 'Hey, look at the weird guy who reminds you of a snake.' And then he was listening to his mind, looking up, only to see that Elliott was looking, too. Marcus redirected his gaze back down to his lap quickly, heart jumping in surprise. Calm down, heart. He's a freak, not Ashton.

                   Elliott had been staring at him, brows slightly furrowed, brown eyes intense as they always seemed to be. He had his head leaning against his palm, fingers twisting the faint curls atop his head, looking like he was lost in thought. About what, Marcus had no clue, but it still sent that uncomfortable shock to his chest.