Like Gods

[31] thoughts of college

"You call me Christine?" Chris laughed. The two of them were sitting farthest corner in the library on Thursday after Thanksgiving, being hidden by loads of bookshelves. Dylan and his team had won the game that they played the weekend prior, and the Thanksgiving celebrations had been... fine.

"Well, you called me 'Brooklyn'. And I had to say something," Dylan defended, "technically it's your fault since it was because mom saw my bruises."

"I take partial responsibility," Chris admitted, "it's a little funny, though, you must admit."

"Alright, Chrissy," Dylan smirked and watched Chris cringe at the nickname. "Is that party at Tyler's this weekend?"

Chris nodded. "Francis has already invited most of the soccer team, just so you know."

"Okay," Dylan grinned, leaning over the table to give him a quick kiss. Chris smiled.

"Hey, by the way, have you started thinking about college applications yet?" He asked after a moment, squirming in his chair. Dylan nodded.

"I have made some drafts, but I'm not finished," he answered.

"You know where you want to go?"

"I've been looking at Georgetown, Brown, and the University of Washington," Dylan admitted.

"Wow, you really aren't afraid of leaving home if you've only looked at colleges that far away," Chris raised his brows, "Marine Biology, I assume?"

"Of course," Dylan grinned, "and yeah, I've been looking at colleges far away, but I don't really know yet. Maybe I'll end up at Greenhill, who knows."

"I highly doubt that," the other laughed, "I bet you'll get into Yale and become a professor."

"What about you," Dylan asked, cocking an eyebrow in his direction.

"Dad's been looking at colleges with a good football team," Chris sighed, "he recommends me to major in Business-"

"Chris, I don't care what your dad wants you to do, what do you want to do?" Dylan frowned. It always went like 'dad wants' and 'dad thinks' and he was tired of it.

"It doesn't matter what I want because he'll help me pay tuition and I need that," Chris shot back, he, too, frowning deeply. Dylan shook his head.

"Do you know how many teens pay for tuition on their own? They work and dedicate themselves to their passion. If you don't want to become an economist-football player, why should you?"

"Because maybe I don't have the strength to work and dedicate myself to my passion, maybe I just need to get a job so that I can get money and I can get that though majoring in business," Chris snapped, making Dylan take a harsh breath.

"But what good is a job if you don't like it? What good is life if you don't like it?"

"It doesn't matter. We live in a world ruled by money and I can't do anything about that," Chris barked, no longer caring that they were in a library. No one visited this part of the library anyway. "As long as it's tolerable, I'm fine with it."

"You shouldn't be fine with it! You should do what you love."

"I envy you because you can, but no one gets rich from drawing portraits."

Dylan spluttered. "What are you talking about? There are hundreds of world-famous artists that made their fortune making paintings. And even then, you could still make money by work with art without making art."

"I can't take that risk, Dylan."

"You can, you just down want to," Dylan huffed, starting to collect his thing from the table, "I've got to go. I'm not saying that you should change your mind, just... be honest with yourself."