Breathe, Tommy (BxB) (Frat)

Three・Double That Order

Today, I was swarmed with hours of literature. Leaving one of my classes, I passed by some students from the next scheduled group who entered the room I was leaving and No-Pen-Guy was amongst them.

Problem: Literature students infer too much. Red flag.

On my way back to my dorm, a rainstorm also hit me hard, and the combination of the two shredded my ability to be present and somewhat alive for the rest of the day. I barely had the energy to comment on how Aidan's mess immigrated to my bed. This brings me to now.

I ignore his cheese-smelling sock on my pillow and starfish onto the mattress. Dramatic exhale, as I do. The following quiet is dented with a trio of knocks at the door.

Aidan looks at me from his upside-down arrangement on his bed.

"What?" I say innocently. There's no way I'm gifting my body the experience of getting up right now.

He groans, "Fuck you, that's what," tumbling down and heading for the door. After briefly mumbling something I don't quite catch to the person behind it, he drawls, "It's for you."

I twist my neck to see who's there but Aidan's blocking my view from this angle. "Who is it?"

"Some guy from bloody Kappa Epsilon." The distaste in his voice has more dough than his accent.

It takes me a few seconds to absorb his words, utterly confused at the situation that someone is even looking for me. I have no friends, here or back home. Fact. I immediately shake my head 'no'. Who would even be looking for you? Why the fuck would anyone from any frat let alone that frat be looking for you? I don't even let myself go there any further, don't let myself worry, stress, spiral...

"Sorry, bruv," Aidan says to the person. "We have a mutual agreement that Kappa Epsilon sucks ass. Bye." He slams the door shut.

Weird they knew where to find you. How did they know where to find you? But I go there, worry, stress, spiral. A silent anxiety attack starts to eat me up inside. Aidan starts chatting to me about all sorts of aimless things I don't care about, because I look fine. I am fine, I tell myself.

You're not.

・

"Double that order, please. How much will that be altogether?"

"$7.90, please."

A ten dollar bill is handed to the cashier. Nice hand paying for your coffee.

The urge to pinch the bridge of my nose in growing irritation is industrial when it clicks who that hand belongs to. Of course, I would recognize No-Pen-Guy's hand. It's the only dumb hand I've had to lend a pen to. The majority of students here actually want to be at college and actually remember their equipment, but not this guy.

I don't bother to comment on him paying for my latte. Coffee is expensive in my opinion. Student loans definitely aren't for coffee addictions. Instead, I move on down in the line, waiting for the buff guy with the eagle neck tattoo to create my latte. This guy is so fine. Damn, he is fine. Maybe he'll draw me a heart with the steamed milk? You wish.

It's not like me to exaggerate but I can literally feel No-Pen-Guy's breathing down the back of my neck. I endure it until the barista is handing me my coffee — opened it up to put a sachet of sugar in but no heart — then I leave the cafe, preparing to breeze back to my dorm despite not wanting to return there. Aidan said he'd have a girl around and I don't exactly feel up for my gay ass eyes being subject to straight porn, nor do I feel like going to the library or anywhere else to be around a bunch of people. So, I'll sit outside, put my earbuds in, and wait.