Against All Odds

[3] three

If someone asked you to picture your first day of uni, what would it be like?

You, spending hours decorating your room to make it as aesthetically appealing as possible? You, sitting in the common room trying to scan down the room to find the friendliest looking people to befriend?

I guarantee though, it wouldn't have been like this: you, sitting across from someone you've basically known for seconds, laughing with a mouth stuffed with chicken nuggets, happy tears in your eyes - I wouldn't have imagined that either, yet, here I am. Because, have you ever met someone and felt an instant connection? Like, you both just felt that you were meant to be together on some sort of level - whether that's as lovers or best friends, or something entirely different. You both just click and understand each other; you can be yourself around them. I never understood it, when I read about it in novels, but here I am, snorting like a pig in front of a guy I barely know, yet I feel like I've known him my whole life. It's a beautiful feeling. Me and Matt are going to be friends for a very long time, I just know it.

We must spend at least two hours just eating and chatting away, I feel like I could talk to him forever. He seems shocked when I tell him I'm a year older and that I dropped out of Uni last year; I lie and tell him it was because I didn't like the course I was doing. I also briefly discuss my home life, because as much as I didn't want to, I figured he'd question it sooner or later anyway; I tell him I live with my Aunt, who I adore very much, but don't give much away about why my parents aren't on the scene. Luckily for me, he didn't question it much: he was more intrigued by my thick northern accent.

"I've never heard someone with such a prominent Yorkshire accent before," he says and I don't know how to take it: is that a compliment? "Yes, it's a compliment. I'm quite a fan of it, gives you a bit of character." he laughs. Again, leaving me dumbfounded about how he always seems to know what I'm thinking - how does he do it?

"Oh you!" I giggle over-dramatically, "Don't make me blush."

"Everything's always funnier in a northern accent, I don't know what it is!"

"Maybe that's just because us northerners are funnier, we're the superior ones in England."

"Oh. Is that so?" He raises his eyebrows questioningly, and we continue to jokingly bicker back-and-forth for a good five minutes before deciding that it's probably best for me to head back to my accommodation, and hopefully meet any other newcomers.

We agree to meet up before the first lecture, and then part ways, so he can head back home.

On the walk back into campus, I can't help but, for the first time in a long time, feel content and happy. It's bizarre, I've been here for only a few hours and already never want to leave - something I never experienced last time around.

As I walk through the campus gates I can tell that this is the prime moving-in time: hundreds and hundreds of sobbing parents and embarrassed teenagers are scattered around the car park and my heart feels heavy, yet at the same time: empty.

This time last year my mum was waving me goodbye, her beautiful smile still prominent through the tears. "I'm going to miss you so so so much," I remember her telling me, word-for-word, "I love you. Be safe."

I promised her I would. And I mentally promise her again now, that I'll be safe this round too.

I easily re-find my dorm room, which seems even smaller than I remembered. My case of belongings is shoved in the corner, which I mentally force myself to unpack; luckily, I only had enough room for the essentials so I know it won't take long - still, that doesn't make the job of making my bed any less tiresome; I can't think of anything I want to do less than forcing my duvet into a cover. The housewife job is definitely not for me.