Clusterfuck

x

Toby sometimes wonders if, within his nineteen-and-a-half years of life, he has cosmically fucked up in any way that gives reason to the universe to have some kind of weird vendetta against him, which seems to be showing now more than ever. It would explain a lot if he had. Like, for example, what the hell did he do to deserve running into a certain familiar someone on his way to his creative writing class the next morning?

"Oh, hey!" the voice calls from behind him, and Toby whips around to face it, only to regret it almost immediately. Steph is bounding toward him, her long dark hair flowing behind her in the wind.

"You're a student here, too?" she asks, smiling, making the guilt in the pit of Toby's stomach spike, until its about eight million times worse than it had already been. Why does she have to be so nice?

"Uh—uh-huh."

"That's cool. What's your major?"

Toby swallows. "A-accounting."

"Oh." She looks surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's—" Toby brings his hand to the back of his head, before he remembers he's wearing a beanie, so now it just looks awkward. "My parents. Uh, they wanted me to—go into a 'rewarding career.'"

She nods slowly. "Huh. Well, I'm in architecture, so I usually stay over on the other end of campus. Guess that's why I haven't seen you around before," she tells him, and Toby nods as if everything is just peachy.

Because it is. It totally is.

Steph seems to receive the memo that Toby isn't exactly keen on communicating verbally, so she clears her throat and speaks again. "Anyway. Uh, I just saw you, and thought I should say thank you, again. For Friday."

Toby shrugs. "No problem," he croaks. "I was just... doing my job."

"Oh, you know—I was wondering. How do you and Leo know each other?"

Toby freezes up, even though he knows he should have been expecting this question. "O-oh." Fuck fuck fuck. "Well, uh, we're in the same calculus class. We're working together on some project that we—uh, that we have to do."

"Oh, okay," Steph says, still smiling. "Small world."

"Yeah."

Minuscule.

~ ~ ~

Cora cowered, the fear rattling her body just as well as the piercing cold that surrounded her. As the muted thumps of footfalls grew increasingly louder, she scurried back, the unfamiliar, rough sand scraping her naked skin, clinging to her, as if attempting to secure its hold on her and draw her back into the wasteland that was the shore. One thought ricochet throughout Cora's mind as she moved: Water. Water. Water.

The footsteps finally ceased, and for a moment, Cora's heart slowed—but then, a man emerged from behind a family of rocks. He was slim, with brown, tousled hair that held a golden tint beneath the setting sun. His eyes were a dusty blue, and when they met Cora's, his lips hinted upwards at a kind, harmless smile, one that dug a shallow dimple into the left side of his face.

Toby slams his laptop shut and covers his face with his hands, grumbling below his breath.

This is seriously getting out of hand.

How can he possibly turn in this stupid assignment if his writing looks like that? Like... like...

Okay. Fine. It's not exactly bad writing. But it's definitely not good, either.

And it's also not like Toby meant to create his character this way. It's just. The guy's supposed to be handsome, and Toby has his own personal tastes as to what handsome is. And purely, absolutely, entirely out of coincidence, they just so happen to align with the looks of a certain someone.