Conversion Academy [boyxboy]

Conversion Academy {3}

After wandering around helplessly lost on campus, I finally found my dorm building. I swiped my card to unlock the door and went inside, checking my paperwork. I lived on the second floor of the building.

I climbed the stairs, glad I didn't live on the fourth floor. The only thing worse than physically and mentally abusive teachers was physical exercise.

I found my room and unlocked the door, stepping inside. I let the door shut behind me and looked around.

The room was a fair enough size, a bed pushed up on the right and one on the left. The one on the right was mine, draped in my covers and pillows. My parents had set up my bed and put my clothes away for me, but the little things were neatly stored under my bed. The bed itself was so high up that I briefly wondered if I'd need a stool to get on it.

The other side of the room caught my attention, though. My first real peek at my currently MIA roommate.

His covers were black with spatters of neon green. There was a poster of The Boondock Saints on his wall, along with several smaller band posters.

His desk was organized chaos. Papers and notebooks were strewn about it, but each had a specific highlighter marking sections. He had pens and pencils in easy reach, along with sticky notes that reminded him to do certain assignments.

I dragged my eyes away from his side of the room and checked my closet. Sure enough, several sets of school uniforms were there. Dark slacks, white button up shirts, maroon sweater vests, and a few dark ties. Great, I had to dress like a freaking nerd every day.

I looked over as the bedroom door opened, feeling my heart thumping wildly. Oh god, please don't be an asshole, please don't be an asshole, please don't be an asshole.

The kid who stepped into the room didn't look familiar at all, meaning I probably didn't have class with him. He wore the school uniform, but the sleeves of his white button up were rolled to his elbows and the shirt itself was lazily untucked. His maroon sweater vest was slung over his shoulder, and he had a skateboard tucked under his arm.

He noticed me and furrowed his brow. "Shit, I forgot my roommate came today."

"Here I am," I said, stepping away from the closet. Oh, the irony.

He set his skateboard down and kicked it off to the side, shutting the door. He had a boyish look to him. I was assuming he was my age, but he looked younger. He had a confusing appearance to him, because his features were thin, sharp, and petite, but his face had the hardened look of someone who liked to be at the center of mosh pits at concerts.

"I'm Leo. Welcome to this shithole," he said. He had a light lisp, a slight attack on his words, but not bad enough to make him hard to understand.

"I'm Killian," I said.

"How was your first day? They break you yet?" he asked. He went over to his bed, where there was a mini fridge stashed under it. He put his foot up on the top of the fridge and used it to propel himself onto the high up bed. Shit. I wish I had a stool.

"It was definitely a shock," I grumbled.

"Conversion Academy," he said, shrugging. "Place is hell. We probably have class together. I was going to show up, but then I realized how nice it was so I ditched to go skateboarding instead."