The campus was abuzz with an unruly number of bright-eyed freshmen not yet feeling the creeping pessimism ever senior inevitably feels. Lee hated it. He remembered being one of them, and he was more annoyed at them for it. Perhaps if they just ... weren't so ... stupid. The only good part of having them around was for the free eye candy.
Lee breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way in the direction of one of the senior dorms, his suitcase full of cloths and his bedding in tow. He had slowly climbed his way to his senior year and just like every other upperclassmen, he got the few privileges that it came with: a room in the only dorm off campus, Reynolds Hall, and permit parking in the senior lot. He didn't *need* to drive to class as it wasn't that far of a walk, but it was nice to know he could — and probably would often.
Reynolds segregated each gender by floor which alternated. The girls had the first and third floors, and the guys had the second and fourth. The dorm, older than the other buildings on campus, was tucked away from everything else and saw the least amount of remodeling over the years. Nevertheless, it was still coveted despite the lack of upkeep — its chipped cinderblock walls and dated 1960's bathroom tile-work was all made up for by being so out of sight as to be out of mind by the school.
Making his way up to the fourth floor and down the long hall, Lee passed the the communal bathrooms and showers just as two ripped guys came out each wearing nothing but a towel around the waist. Lacrosse players, if he had to wager. At that moment, Tweedledee thought himself a comedian and disrobed Tweedledum. A fight ensued, naturally, but not before Lee was blessed to have been shown everything the pair had to offer. Storing the image for later, and not wanting to be caught ogling the sight, Lee scampered faster to his room. Upon arrival, however, Lee discovered he had the room to himself — a fact that drew more and more surprise as the day went on. By the time he got himself settled, Lee was having a harder time containing his hopes that he'd somehow lucked out by not having a roommate. Lee wasn't antisocial per se — at least that's what he would tell himself regularly — it's just given the choice, he'd rather have this privacy. Or never having to deal with someone else's poor hygiene. Or poor life choices. Or ... Lee stopped himself when he realized the list of reasons kept growing and any prior antisocial judgments might have to be overturned. "If they're not here by the end of the week..." he thought, "*then* I celebrate."
Thursday rolled around and no roommate was in sight. Although Lee's busiest day of the week, he had to make an emergency stop at the dorm before his operating systems class at 10 because he forgot his laptop charger. He had stopped outside the door, fetching his key card from his wallet, and held a breath of anticipation for what he might find. Yanking the cable from the wall outlet by his desk and stuffing the cable in his bag, the beginnings of a smile formed as he walked back out the door — the sight of the half-vacant room still fresh in his mind.
Lee felt that the hours started to pass more slowly as his day went on. The crammed schedule was beginning to wear him out and by the time Intro to Sociology came along at 3:00, all he wanted to do was go to bed. He had been second guessing how well he might be able to handle his Thursday schedule when he walked into the classroom. A broad-shouldered jock immediately caught his attention in the front row. Bryce was his name, Lee remembered, as he was one of the prettiest boys on the football team. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, the jock was nothing shy of 175 lbs of muscle, abs, and what looked to be the tightest ass you have ever seen in Lycra. Lee made his way to the other side of the room and took a seat a few rows back, listening to Bryce hit on a girl sitting directly behind him. It didn't take too long for Lee to ascertain that Bryce was in the class for the same reason he himself was: it was the last gen-ed they needed to fulfill their diversity requirement. Bryce was laying it on a little thick, hitting (at least what he believed to be) all the buzzwords needed to convince this poor girl he was a good guy, but wasn't doing too well given he kept reverting back to 'feminism' when he ventured off topic a little too far. Lee released a languid sigh while he rolled his eyes, an act which drew Bryce's attention form across the room.
Bryce jabbed his chin sharply toward Lee and furrowed his brow, glaring.
Lee put up both hands in resignation, "I'm sorry, please forgive me. I don't speak 'bro'."
"And I don't speak faggot," Bryce barked back.
Lee briefly wrinkled is forehead, stunned the exchange would go there so fast, but ultimately smirked and sat back in his chair. Not only had the professor arrived but, to Lee's satisfaction, the girl Bryce was trying to impress gave every visible indication that whatever chance there may have been for Bryce, it was certainly gone now. The professor had gone over the syllabus and nearly completed a free-form lecture about the meaning of the german word Weltanschauung, talking about cultural and personal bias by the time the period ended — which, by Lee's count, had seen at least half a dozen sideways glares from the football player in the front row. Leaving by way the opposite door, Lee began his long walk back to the dorms for the evening when he heard Bryce talking loudly about Lee in the third person, suggesting that 'faggots should keep their noses out of other people's business' but Lee never looked back and instead chose to give no indication that he heard anything.
Opening the door to the dorm room, Lee saw what used to be a half empty dorm, now complete with someone else's belongings. "Just my luck," he muttered to himself. "At least," Lee continued, "they don't seem to be a slob like the last one," noting the absence of toenail clippings all over the floor. "I wonder if I can guess..." but Lee felt his words trail off. He didn't, in fact, have to guess who it was that had moved in while he was in classes all day. The jersey draped over the desk chair told him everything he needed to know. Confirming the painful realization that slowly began to consume him, Lee spotted the picture of his roommate with the rest of his family, all staring back from the photo's position on the desk. There, in a football uniform, captured in a celebratory selfie with his father and mother, was Bryce.
"Alright, bitch, you listen here," Bryce burst through the door, obviously having the foreknowledge the two were roommates, "I don't care for your smug fucking face, you got it?"
"Look..." Lee began, but was stopped short.
"You don't get to fucking talk yet, bitch. Don't interrupt me."
Lee waited in silence, but Bryce never continued. "How about now?"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Need more time to think?" Lee was clearly pushing buttons, despite the (now obvious) fact that Bryce had at least 50 lbs on him and the more time went on the more evident it became just how vascular the wide receiver was.
"You really want me to beat the shit out of you, don't you?"
"Look, Bryce..."
