Chemical Fusion

Part 5

Eric's POV:

I really don't want to go back to the dorm. I know Finn will probably be there, and while that's not necessarily a bad thing, I try to avoid awkward interactions as much as humanly possible. I would like to get to know him better, but I also don't want to force myself on him, like I'm afraid I did last night. So, I think the best thing to do would be to act "normal", whatever that might be, around Finn. Or, I might have, if I didn't find him waiting at the door for me like a lost puppy.

As soon as I entered the dorm, I saw Finn just loitering around the living room like he didn't also live there. And it seemed as though he didn't, with the travel bag next to him. I briefly wondered about the purpose of the bag before his gaze shot toward the door.

"Ah! Welcome home, Eric. I was... just about to leave." Finn shifted his gaze away again, perhaps after realizing that it made me a little jittery.

"Leave for... where? You just got here. You aren't... moving out, are you?" Did I make him want to move out so fast? Dammit, I've only known my roommate for a day and a half, and he already wants to leave? Great job, me. New record.

"Moving out? Oh, no. No. I'm going to visit my little sister in Michigan for a few days. She has a friend that needs tutoring, I guess." He shrugs, like he couldn't care less. I hope it wasn't obvious how relieved that made me. While interactions between us might be awkward, he seemed like a great guy, so I don't want him to leave.

"I see. When will you be back? Do you know?" Oh, shit. That's not my business at all, is it? "Ah- sorry. I know that's not any of my business. Sorry." Finn gave me a slightly wondering look. Did I say something wrong again?

"There's nothing wrong with asking that." He shrugged. "You're my roommate. And it wouldn't be weird if anyone asked that. Pretty normal stuff. Anyway, I think I'll be back either tomorrow or the next day, depending how long my sister wants me to stay."

It was astonishing how his matter-of-fact tone made everything make sense. Like everything he said was true just because he believed it was. It was something I could never hope to achieve, even if I tried. It was so easy to listen to what he had to say, because I had no reason to question it. It seems like my own words are the ones I'm unsure of. I'm aware of the irony of the situation. What kind of person doesn't trust their own words?

"By the way, Eric," Finn began. "I do need your number, If that's alright with you. We should have a way to keep in touch while I'm away, at least. Let me know if you're having anyone stay over. And," he started with a grin, "Let me know if you're lonely, and I'll come right back." He laughed. It was a nice laugh. Unshaken and genuine. The opposite of mine. It made me laugh, too.

"I will." I give him my phone number, and watch him exit the door with a friendly wave.

As soon as he leaves, it becomes apparent how empty the room is. Like all the light has been sucked right out of it. I know that sounds cringey and lame, but it's true. I turn to walk to my room in silence. It's almost familiar how empty the hallways seem, like home, in a way. Although I lived with both my parents, it felt more like living alone. The hallways were empty, the living room empty, the dining room quiet, save for the clinking of dishes and glass. There was no conversation, no friendly chatter, nothing like the one day I'd spent with Finn. One day into this exciting, warm life, and the next I'm alone again. I know he'll be back soon, but it's still lonely in the dorm without him taking up the space with his reassuring words. Back home, there had never been reassuring words. The only words traded in that house were about my education, and if it was really worth the money to send me to school. I hated the way my parents talked about me behind my back. Although, you might as well not call it "behind my back", because they did it to my face, too. And I'm sure they said more away from me. It's disappointing how glad I was to move out of their house, after all the years of silence and a room so cold it still sent shivers down my spine to think about it now. I'm sure my parents weren't disappointed.

It always shocked me how indifferent my parents were toward me. How could they be? Didn't they choose to have me? I'm sure they would have told me if they didn't. They sure didn't hold back with any of their other apparent gripes about me. But the feeling of living here, even alone, is better than that. Anything would be. No... I'm lucky. I'm sure I am. I lived in a nice house, we had money- enough to send me to college, with the scholarships I was granted, of course. We had everything we needed. Life is easy. Life is fine. I'm lucky.

I'm lucky that my parents didn't make me change majors when I told them I wanted to major in creative writing. I worked hard to be able to get this far, since they wouldn't let me major in it until I proved that I could make a living off of it. I guess that shows they care, making sure it'll get me through life. Or maybe they're just trying to protect their own status. That's always what it was about, after all. That's enough. I can't complain. It's my fault for being a disappointment in the first place. After all, no one would be happy to have a son like me. Especially after I came out to them. I'm sure they're just disappointed that they won't get any grandchildren, but I think it's something more than that. Maybe they just wanted me to be normal. To get a normal job, get married to a normal girl, and learn to speak normally in front of people. I wish I could be that son for them.

I decide that I should write something. I have essays due at the end of next week, and it's about time I did them. Having uncompleted work stresses me out, and while I hardly have any motivation to write anything, I can't let those assignments just sit there unattended. I sit down at my desk, which is really just a small table with a piano chair. The very definition of a college student, but very welcome, since my desk at home was anything but. I place my hands gingerly on the keyboard, ready to type but unready to commit to the topic. I need something that I relate to more, something that feels like it was written from experience. I feel as though I have no experience in anything, really. Like the most boring character in a story, demoted to a side character, forgotten somewhere along in the writing process, and never made it into the final work. It sounds dramatic, but honestly, it might even work for the topic. Something like "Side Character Syndrome", for the title. That'll work well enough.

I wonder how Finn is doing.