𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ; 𝗪𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗶!𝗮𝘂

▬ deux

Jesper glanced at the old grandfather clock in the center of the left wall for the seventeenth time since he'd entered the headmaster's office. Technically, his supposed new roommate wouldn't be late for another minute and a half.

The headmaster himself was very patiently waiting across the desk between them. He was one of those men who was so obviously good-natured: cheeks that rosied easily with a full peal of laughter, twinkling eyes (in a shocking shade of blue) that always seemed to suggest that he knew more than he let on, and a well-maintained beard that was slowly graying.

The office Jesper and the headmaster found themselves in had clearly benefited from the steep admission fees that the university charged. The headmaster's chair was brown leather, worn with age but enough so that it promoted familiarity. Two bookshelves of a fine oak framed the window behind the desk, giving the headmaster the appearance of a halo when the sun was positioned correctly. Beneath Jesper's feet lay a rug woven in a wine red and collection of neutrals that coalesced in a pattern that made Jesper's head spin with how rich one must be to be able to afford even just a replica.

Just before he checked the clock for the eighteenth time — surely it was time for him to be allowed to escape this purgatory — the door burst open.

A boy stood in the opening — a head full of reddish-brown curls, freckles that seemed to bury his entire face in angels' kisses, and an outfit of someone who had recently taken an unplanned dive off of a boat. Jesper immediately knew he was going to like him. (He also knew he would not say no if the boy asked for anything more than the typical friendly roommate things. The ginger had skin that looked like it was made of paper or porcelain and would bruise if one so much as breathed on it wrong. Jesper would love to test his theory.)

"Nice of you to join us," was what came out of his mouth, and Jesper immediately regretted it. A look of annoyance passed over the boy's face, blue eyes darkening like the sky in the midst of a brief summer storm.

"Please, sit down," said the headmaster, gesturing to the chair to the right of Jesper. "Welcome."

The boy sat, setting his bag purposefully on the side furthest from Jesper, which Jesper couldn't help but take a little offense at.

"Well, boys, take a look at your new roommate for the next five months. If we are all at the correct meeting, Jesper, meet Wylan, and Wylan, meet Jesper." The headmaster smiled, clearly expecting a handshake or the like.

"Hullo, Jesper," said the boy with the ruddy curls, his voice soft and candid. Jesper thought he might pass out at the sound of it. He reasoned that it was unfair for someone to be so perfect.

"Hi, Wylan," he replied, and hoped that he was leaving just as good a first impression as Wylan was for him.

The headmaster dove into a long spiel about school and dorm rules, as well as various advertisements for extracurriculars like theater and the full orchestra. Jesper was not listening at all — he'd endured this same lecture at the beginning of last term, albeit not from the headmaster himself — and instead he studied the ginger beside him.

Obviously, the angle of his neck and the position of his arm would provide ample excuses if either were to inquire ("A question, Jesper?" "Oh, no, just stretching.").

Wylan's lapels were not folded down properly, and his jacket was wrinkled at the shoulder, like he'd only just put it on, and it hadn't had a chance to settle yet. He wore a ring on the thumb of his left hand (it rested on the arm of the chair), some kind of coat of arms or house crest on it.

He definitely had musician's hands, long fingers and finely trimmed nails, but they were calloused in odd spots, where the instrument rested. Wylan held himself like he had money but was afraid of setting even just a toe out of line — back straight yet shoulders slightly hunched.