Goddess

Tom meanwhile couldn't be more miserable. He'd hardly gotten out of bed, he'd missed a union meeting for the first time in years, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd hit the gym. Cliff had tried getting him out more, but every time he'd refused. Casey, meanwhile, had finally gotten worried. If Tom was depressed and hurt himself they'd have the R.A. and various other figures combing the dorm, and that risked their booze stash, or worse yet their collection of tankōbon. Casey walked into Tom's room. Tom was on his side, his face towards the wall. Casey poked him, making sure he was still alive.

"Hey. Get up." they said. Tom rolled over. He looked terrible. His skin was pale, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he'd started to grow a shaggy unkept beard. Not to mention he smelled bad.

"What?" Tom asked.

"You need to go do something," Casey said. "You've been laying around in the dorm too much". Tom stared unamused.

"Pot meet kettle." he said, turning back over. Casey prodded Tom.

"It's three in the afternoon, hit the gym or something."

Tom waved his hand dismissively at the suggestion. Casey rolled their eyes.

"Welp" they sighed "Guess there's no choice."

They left the room, then came back with a folding chair and a stack of thick books. They sat the folding chair right next to Tom's bed. Tom rolled over.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Well, if you're just gonna use your bed, then I'm going to use the rest of your room. Consider this an annexation." said Casey.

"Since when are you a Stalinist?" Tom asked, some annoyance in his voice.

"Since you showed signs of mental health issues that could risk my drinks and my secrets." said Casey, picking up a hardcover of Gramsci's Prison Notebooks.

"Liking Vampire Knight and Bleach hardly justifies bothering me. Now fuck off." Tom said.

Casey ignored him.

"Casey, I mean it, screw".

Casey continued to ignore him. Finally, Tom realized Casey was gonna be adamant about this, and sighed in defeat.

"OK, what's it take to get you to go away?" Tom asked. Casey glanced at him.

"Take a shower and do something to feel better. You've been too mopey. Oh, and shave. That beard looks bad," they said. "I'll leave when you've showered and changed."

Tom rolled out of bed, grabbed a change of clothes, and hit the shower. He was tempted to use Casey's body wash, but he knew he'd never hear the end of that, especially since they were being so adamant about bothering him. He washed up, shaved, and changed into a white tank top and some khaki shorts. He went back into his room, opened his sock drawer, and put something from it into his pocket.

"I'll be back in a few." he said, leaving the dorm. Casey moved the folding chair and the books out, then relaxed in their armchair. Quite some time passed, and a heavy rainstorm started up. Casey started to wonder where Tom had went. They got up to grab their cell, only to find the battery was dead. They sighed and looked around the dorm. He wasn't back yet, and his keys were on the kitchen table.

"Aw for the love of Engels" they thought. They bolted downstairs and exited the building, not even bothering to grab a raincoat or an umbrella.

As they walked out the door, they caught Tom in their peripheral vision just under the awning of the entry to the dorms.

"Hey." he said.

"Where have you been?" Casey asked.

"At the gas station." he said. He was wet with rain water. His hair was soaked, and his white tank top was see through. Despite the inactivity, his chest remained as rock solid as ever. Ordinarily Casey would've paid more attention to that, but then Tom went digging furiously into his pockets, and pulled out a pack of smokes and a lighter. Casey's eyebrows went north.

"Since when do you smoke?" they asked. Tom pulled a cigarette out and started fidgeting with the lighter, trying to get it to go.

"Haven't in a year," he said "I quit shortly before I met Sydney. But fuck it, not like I got anything else to go to." He kept flicking the lighter, trying to get it to go.

"May I?" Casey asked, holding their hand out. Tom handed the lighter to Casey, who proceeded to chuck it as far as they could into the rainstorm.

"What the fuck?!" Tom said.

"Cigarettes are bad for you. Come on, come drink with me." said Casey.

"Yeah, cuz that's a healthy alternative." Tom scoffed.

"One of these things harms you and everyone around you. The other is fun," said Casey. "Besides I haven't had a drinking buddy in forever and Cliff's a Maoist, so he doesn't touch the bottle. So come drink and be merry."

Tom rolled his eyes and started walking towards the direction Casey had thrown his lighter in. Casey, deciding enough was enough, grabbed Tom by the arm and dragged him inside. Once they were in, Tom yanked his arm away from Casey.

"Oh sweet Althusser you could bend steel with those." Casey thought.

"Will you quit pissing me off?" Tom asked, his temper now reaching a boiling point.

"I want to help you." Casey said flatly.

"You can help by going back into your part of the dorm and reading Capital for the eightieth time!" Tom growled.

"I did that for two weeks and you became a mess. You just had a bad breakup. Let me help you this one night, and then I promise I'll leave you alone." said Casey.

Tom wiped his face in frustration.

"And you'll fuck off?" Tom asked.

"Whatever you do is your choice after that." said Casey. The two made their way back to the dorm. Casey locked the door behind them as an act of good measure.

They went into their room, and came back with a small cooler filled with various fifths.

"What's your poison?" they asked.

"Gin, neat." Tom said. Casey went into the kitchen, grabbed two glasses, and filled them with gin from their room. They clinked their glasses together and started throwing back booze. About two fifths of gin in, the both of them were sitting on the floor of the dorm, shirtless, backs to the wall, whimsically shitfaced.

"S-So ah tellzum... thazz not what yer Mah sed lazznite!" Tom said. The both of them burst out laughing. Tom slung his arm over Casey's shoulder. "Lizzen... Ah know ah'm... that we don't git along all the time. An' an' ahm sorry for that. Cuz yer... yer a good comrade."

Casey slugged back some more gin.

"And... [hic] you're attractive," said Casey. Tom giggled. "No no no no, I mean it. Fuck that fuckin' girlfriend, ex-girlfriend of yours."

Casey raised their glass up.

"FUCK HER!" they yelled.

"YEAH! FUCK HER!" Tom yelled.

Both threw back more gin.

"S-So... So what if I got... a lil' drunk on vocka? Who han't?" Tom said. Casey looked at Tom with great confusion. Tom looked back.

"What?" he asked.

Casey rolled around the floor laughing.

"Whazz funny?" Tom asked.

"Yoooo," said Casey "You didn't... you didn't drink vocka that night".

"Wh-what are ya talkin' about?"

"You came back [hic] smelling like one-fifty-one. If you were drinkin' vocka you're a lightweight."

"Thass... thass nah true. I had screwdrivers all that night."

"Nah hic. Nah nah nah. See, vocka... vocka smells like rubbing alk... alkaline. You smelled like licorice. That's what one-fifty-one smells like."

"Aww... aww man. I thought that screwdraver tasted funny."

Casey looked at the ceiling for a just moment, then turned to Tom.

"Hey. Lemme see those [hic] those photos. The ones Alan said yah sent". Tom fumbled through his pocket and got his cell out, then passed it to Casey. Casey stared at his phone for a good few minutes.

"It's locked" they said giggling. Tom grabbed his phone and unlocked it, then got to the text conversation between him and Sydney. Casey looked at the phone again.

"Yooo... these are... [hic]..." Casey started.

"Humiliatin', ah know." Tom said.

"Nah... they're fake." said Alan. Tom spit out the gin he was drinking at that moment. Casey rolled over and showed Tom the pictures, all zoomed in.

"See? You can [hic] you can [hic] you can see little white outlines around the girl," they said. "These are [hic] doctored."

Tom wasn't sure if it was the revelation or the alcohol, but he could feel his head spinning. If that was the case, what did happen that night? Was this a plot by Alan? What did he even drink? Question upon question spun through his head, but he knew one thing: He had to get Sydney back.

"Casey, quick! Gimme my phone!" Tom said. Casey rolled away. "Casey, ah'm not jokin', gimme my phone back!". Casey continued to roll away.

"Dammit, Casey!" Tom shouted.

"Tom! Lizzen... izznot a good idea. You're too drunk. She's [hic] not gonna believe you. You gotta... you gotta sober up first" Casey said. They rolled back. "And also... [hic]. I'm not gonna lie... I kinda like you single. Cuz... you're really... hot and I wanna... [hic] do stuff".

om rolled his eyes and started getting up. Casey scrambled to their feet.

"Jus-Just hang on a sec!" Casey said. "We're both single... and you're hot... so we should like... make out."

"Ah'm inta girls, Casey." Tom said.

"Thass cool! I'm 75% girl!" Casey said. "And you're... [hic] you're extremely hot. Like... I can't even lie, you with that stach... statue... stacha... stachoo-eska chest is doin' it for me".

Tom rolled his eyes, then met Casey's gaze. He'd never really noticed it before, mainly because they wore shades all the time, but Casey had beautiful blue eyes. And that pink buzzcut was kinda cute now that he thought about it. Oh what the hell, he was drunk and single.

"O-OK. Less make out." Tom said.

Casey got close to Tom, gently pressing their chest against his, held him, and kissed him softly. Tom returned the kiss, enjoying the softness of Casey's lips. Casey went in for another kiss, this time using a bit of tongue and running their hand through Tom's hair. Tom decided to go with it, and the two began a sloppy exchange of spit. Casey nibbled on Tom's lower lip just a bit, savoring the taste of their roommate. After they let go, Tom kissed them again, running his hand across Casey's buzzcut, enjoying the slight softness of their head. There was a certain comfort in this kind of closeness. Like Tom, Casey was athletic, and the feeling of another well-muscled human being gave a sense of familiarity that admittedly turned him on a bit. Casey gave Tom one last soft kiss, then looked deeply into his eyes.

"Y-You're so handsooo..." Casey gently slid down Tom's chest and passed out on the floor. Tom meanwhile barely made it to the couch before passing out.

Tom woke up the next morning with a slight headache. Casey wasn't on the floor. They'd probably made it back to their room, obsessively reading Lenin or something. Tom wrestled himself off the couch. Last night started to more or less replay in his head. If nothing else, mentally he started to feel better, just knowing he hadn't cheated on his girlfriend for some barely legal tail. Then he remembered kissing Casey. He wasn't sure what was weirder - the idea of making out with a Leftcom or the idea of making out with Casey. Casey came out of their room, rubbing their eyes a bit.

"Oh. Hey." they said.

"So uh... can we talk about last night?" Tom asked.

"What, about those photos? Not much to talk about." Casey said, walking over to the kitchen.

"No I mean... you and me? Making out?" Tom asked. Casey froze, then turned around, stared at Tom, then chuckled.

"Pfffffffffft," they scoffed "In your dreams, loser. I can, and in fact actively, do better than you". They grabbed a cereal bar and headed back to their room. "Go figure out how to win your girlfriend back if you're so lonely."