cherry - part 3
early wednesday, 4am. i woke up from my sleep, it was the third time that night so i just gave up. friday night kept replaying on my head and in the bottom of my stomach i had this unpleasant mixture of butterflies, concern, shame and loss. i sat up in my bed quietly and looked over to george's side of the room, his leg was shaking and his face was tense. he'd probably wake up soon. i put the kettle on and put a crumpet on the toaster, grabbing some jam and picking the "queen anne" teabags, he was drinking a lot of that lately. as soon as i hear a gasp, i know he's awake, and i still don't want to go through the pain of talking to him so i just hand him over the tea and the crumpet, grab my robe and leave the dorm. not even five seconds after i close the door i hear a quiet whisper.
"where are you going?"
"just for a walk. not leaving the building."
"okay, good." he closes back the door hesitantly.
"'okay, good'. it's always that with him, innit?" i muttered to myself "never more than that. how come an english major has such a bad way around words?"
i walk out of the building, even though i told sco that i wouldn't, until i find a stranger, with a hat that looked like a beret and a black trench coat, smoke surrounding him.
"oi mate, you okay there?" i ask
"hi." he turns around to me, he has blue eyes, but not deep like sco's, his are icy "fine by me, i'm not the one on the robe at four in the morning." he says in an irish accent.
"sorry, can i join you?" i point at the bench in which he's sitting
"sure. smoke?"
"uh no, thanks."
"what's on your mind?"
"what?"
"you're wandering around like a hopeless student — which i assume you are — and you don't look like you got much sleep so: what's on your mind?"
"huh. you're not wrong. what's your name?"
"cillian. i teach creative writing here."
"you might know my friend. his name's william schofield, it's his first semester?"
"don't know many students by name and haven't got the time to read whatever they have to write me."
"he's anya's boyfriend. she's a tall, brunette, very skinny and statuesque, has really unique eyes."
"sort of far apart?"
"yeah, but in a very good way?"
"i know her. and i think i know who he is too. what's your deal with him?"
"well he's my roommate..."
"and they were roommates..." he laughs "spare me, i know the story
"y-you do?"
"i teach creative writing, and if the roommate trope isn't one of the most common there are for romance stories... well, there's just nothing like it. so, does he like you and you don't know how to deal with it or is it the other way around?"
