Barney’s eyes snapped open, his body shocked awake by the impact of realization that struck him with the weight of a freight train. “Oh no. Nono.” He felt a little too well rested; a slight soreness afflicted his head at the point where it lay against the pillow. That sunlight peeking through the cheap blinds of his dorm room looked a little too bright. Like a snake his arm lunged out from beneath his cover to snatch the phone from the desk beside his bed. He didn’t need his glasses to see the time on display and confirm the impulsive fear that had seized him. “No no no, dang it!” He’d slept through his alarm. He was late. Again.

Even as his heart sank, his body leaped into action. Barney hurled himself out of bed, scooped up his little basket with soap and shampoo, grabbed a reasonably fresh set of clothes from the closet, and made a beeline for the communal bathroom and its showers. Since he couldn’t wait for it to warm up he had to shiver through a brisk wash before pulling on his clothes and booking it back to his room. No time for breakfast, which sucked but at least it wasn’t the first time. Just folders, notebook, pencils, laptop, all in the backpack, shoes on, and run for it. His wet hair in the chilly air of an overcast November morning just about froze his scalp, but the anger and embarrassment of his repeated mistake stung him a whole lot more.

“I’m so dead,” he moaned as he hastened toward the lecture hall as fast as he could. If he couldn’t cut it in the first and easiest semester of college, he wasn’t going to cut it, period. All that debt incurred for nothing--his hopes of finding a better future, squandered. “That’s just it. I’m dead. Dead for sure. Woodward’s not gonna let it slide again.” Not after Barney forgot to bring his laptop to the semester’s first test. No matter how much he wanted to blame it on his manager insisting he close the night before, no amount of excuses would have saved him. Only the grace of Professor Ed Woodward, who let him run back to get his computer. He’d been allowed to both start and end the test late, but doing well on it was another story. That episode put his already struggling grade in the class in jeopardy, and Barney got the sinking feeling that Rockwell wouldn’t give him a third chance.

It wasn’t fair. Between studying for this very test and work he’d barely gotten to actually relax on Thanksgiving Break at all. At least he figured he’d be prepared for the test the day after, but of course, leave it to Barney Rynsburger to mess things up right at the end. Screw me for at least wanting to go out to eat a Thanksgiving dinner with my friends, huh? He, Matt, and Felipe ended up reaching for one too many beers. Barney didn’t even remember how he got back to the college. Felipe’s girlfriend Maria, probably. At least I don’t have to deal with her. Still, that wasn’t a lot of comfort for the dead.

The building loomed ahead of him, but as Barney drew near he came to a breathless stop. He was half an hour late; he had no chance in hell. Why go in there and just sit in the middle of all the test-takers, unable to do anything, and be tortured by his failure? If he was dead, he might as well rest in peace, at least for a little while. Hanging his head, Barney turned around and trundled back down the hill toward the student center in the middle of campus. He could grab a coffee and a donut from the built-in cafe and find a cozy couch to sink into for the rest of time. After suppressing his look of anguish so that nobody would see him like this he pushed inside.

A few minutes later Barney had achieved his resting place. Even with first period in session the student center was pretty full. Everywhere he looked he saw clusters of eighteen and nineteen years olds, chatting, catching up, complaining, and so on, many with the sort of excitement only freshmen could possess. Because everybody had somebody, though, that left a vacancy in front of the TV where a guy by himself could take a seat. Barney heaved a sigh and stared listlessly up at the news.

“...Indicate this incident to be just the latest in the string of so-called protests against alleged police corruption turning violent in recent months,” the host was saying. “Furthermore, our correspondents on site interviewed a number of eyewitnesses who claim to have seen Sofia Kucharski in the vicinity.” An image flashed on screen of a blonde woman in a green overcoat. “Kucharski, a self-identified anarchist and longtime anti-police agitator, is a convicted felon released from a prison sentence only a few years ago. Since then accusations of seditious activities and conspiracies continue to pile at her feet. At this time her involvement cannot be confirmed, but if this spate of civil unrest is indeed her handiwork as suspected, there could be even more dire incidents yet to come. We turn now to Barclay’s own police commissioner Maurice McCord for comment.”

The news station transitioned to a shot at the front of the BPD building, situated on its idyllic peninsula on the waterfront. Front and center was the commissioner himself, who with his white suit, old-fashioned gold star, and ten-gallon hat looked every inch the southern gentleman sheriff he clearly sought to be. “First thing I wanna do is set your minds at ease. All these rumors y’all been hearin? ‘Bout corruption ‘n whatnot? Nothin’ but heinous slander! There ain’t a police department in the nation more open ‘n carin’ than we are. Why, just look around ‘n see fer yerself! Watchin’ out for folks--that’s our motto.” His wide, reassuring smile turned serious, his look concerned. “But this Kuth...ah, Kucharski lady? She’s bad news, lemme tell ya. I know ‘cause I’m the one who put ‘er away in the first place. She’s the type who’s willin’ to take advantage of people, stir up trouble, get poor folks hurt, then sit back ‘n let others take the fall. The reason she’s doin’ this -the one and only reason- is for revenge. So to the good citizens of this fair city, please: if ya see any trouble brewin’, just stay calm, keep clear, ‘n call the police. If ya bring in info that ‘elps lead to ‘er capture, we’ll even reward ya. So help us help yew stay safe. God bless.”

After that the segment changed, and Barney’s attention drifted away. He heard some people sit down behind him. One girl exhaled heavily, saying, “Guh! There’s still SO many people everywhere. It’s seriously nuts. Back in August I thought it was just, like, a bunch of kids visiting from all the high schools or something. I’m so sick of waiting in line for coffee.”

Her friend finished a long sip of her own drink, smacking her lips before replying. “I mean, Pondwater did say it was a record-breaking freshman class back at the first assembly. He was really proud about it, too. Kept going on and on about recruiters this and outreach that. Must be raking it in.”

The first girl snickered. “You know, I can’t get over his name being Pondwater in the first place. It’s just so perfect. He looks like a bullfrog, stuffed in that disgusting brown suit of his.”

“I know, right?”

Barney knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he didn’t have the energy to distract himself as the girls continued. “Anyway, did you hear about Kirsty? It happened AGAIN!”

Her friend sounded a lot more annoyed than surprised. “What else is new? With her looks, she’s always gonna have guys swarming all over her, and if she can’t pick ‘em...well, serves that bimbo right. It’s like winning the lottery and dropping the ticket on the way to cash it in.”

Barney allowed their conversation to drift away as his thoughts turned inward, a displeased look on his face. Even as a freshman he recognized the name they mentioned. In fact, he’d be surprised if anyone could go a semester at BWU without hearing about her. Kirsty Shishani, the beautiful but ditzy sophomore cursed with terrible luck in love. It seemed like her blunders through the world of romance were practically a spectator sport at this point. No matter who she ended up with or how well things seemed to be going, things would eventually turn sour. The guy would turn out to be a creep or jerk of some stripe. Two guys had even been expelled for sexual harassment. And of course, the minute she was single again someone else would swoop in to fill the void, and it’d happen all over again. Barney’s heart went out to the poor girl. He’d seen her a couple times around the school, and rumors really didn’t do her justice. Drop-dead gorgeous, terribly friendly and kind-hearted, always quick with a smile, never picky or prideful. It was easy to understand why guys went nuts over her, and why girls hated her guts. Bright or not, she didn’t deserve all the misfortune that befell her. She was way out of his league, but Barney felt sure that if he got a shot, he could make her happy. And considering some of the guys she did get with, maybe she’d give him a chance after all?

Barney shook his head and busied himself with his coffee. What am I thinking? He was a dead man walking. He had no future, least of all one with a girl like Kirsty. Soon he’d be out of here, with nothing gained from BWU but debt, probably unable to keep providing for his family. Nobody would ever know he’d been there. Nobody would remember he was gone. He groaned, and attempted to sink deeper into his chair.

What was turning out to be a peaceful slumber was easily interrupted by the sudden boom of thunder than rang in Dakota's ears, eyes shooting wide open with a gasp. An attempt to move showed he was restrained, the young man grasping the harness as his eyes darted about the area, slowly taking in the details of where he was. The seats, the metallic appearance, and the horrid mixture of engines and explosions that made this place sound like any B-grade war movie he'd watched in his life. He'd been here before, more than once. This dream always played out the same way, and seemed to have no real purpose behind it, which caused his panic to disperse into a bit of annoyance at not getting to sleep peacefully.

But something was different this time, Dakota discovered. As he undid his harness and pulled himself to his feet, the repeated visits to this dream had made him wonder what was behind that door. Now it was open, and to spice up this repetitive experience, he'd check out this new development. One step at a time, he slowly traveled across the aircraft, wincing at each explosions as if it could be the one that hits his plane. And with the way it shook, it wouldn't surprise him if they were getting hit.

Panicked by this sudden thought, he was quick to enter through the newly opened door. His mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. No matter how hard he tried to question the situation, words couldn't escape him. Instead his eyes rested on the source of light in the room, and the sleeping police girl that he didn't recognize in the slightest. His head tilted in confusion, though his attention was quickly snatched by an ominous voice, view shifting to the mysterious figure in the cockpit.

Finally? I don't even know who you are.

Eyes widening at the sight of the empty pilot seat, the lack of alarm from the mysterious individual seemed to imply this wasn't a huge deal, but he also hurried him in a calm tone to take a seat. Dakota followed the man's suggestion, sitting down and swiveling back to face the front of the plane. Igor's words pulled him from viewing outside in any regard, his tone carrying some sort of effect that brought the young man's full attention.

Hell... I feel more lost. It's kind of a purgatory, really.

An explosion, yet again. The blast was visible from his seat and Dakota couldn't help but stare at the sudden brightness in the dark. Soon, it all twisted to black, leaving the outside of the plane devoid of detail. A void of black that felt like it lead nowhere, to the point he wasn't even sure if they were moving anymore. Despite this being a dream, he felt sick. His stomach was in knots, and he was getting a little anxious from all of this.

So sudden, that my life was thrown off track. I put all my eggs in one basket, and it came back to bite me. Where I thought I was free, I've come to realize life without passion is a boundless cage, still.

Dakota's view follows Igor's gesture, the young man looking over the plane. Despite how strange it was, it did feel safe. Something inside gave the young man some peace here, like he could just sit and relax with his own thoughts, without hinderance from anyone else.

I feel lighter here. As if there's something truly comforting, even in the carnage surrounding this plane.

Bringing his view to the console, the rampart wheel being something Dakota attempted to stop: But it torn from his hands in a fashion that nearly made him feel like his wrists would be snapped. A hopeless gaze ventured forth towards an explosion that blew open the void, exposing a sky with many planes, more than the boy could hope to count.

"Lost souls circling the drain, day by day, until you go down."

Dakota winced at these words. They sparked fear in his heart, the idea of death being a terrifying one. He didn't want to end up as one of those that the shells finally hit their mark on: He wanted to persevere, and make it through. He wanted to find a road to happiness in his life after feeling like he'd lost it. Were the solutions tied to this huge-nosed individual, somehow?

I don't want to drown. How am I supposed to find my worth, though? I'm just a shell of what I used to be, and a cowardly one at that. Is there really something out there for me to find? I'm just not sure...

An odd hopefulness gave him warmth, though it faded as negative thoughts clouded his mind, and his view. Igor's nod wasn't directed at him, and it caused Dakota to turn and try to look, noticing an awake but drowsy police woman, the same that had been napping before. His eyes locked onto the lever, and the hand she had upon it. As it was pulled, the young man's eyes widened, attempting to scream as his plummet began.

The force of the air felt like it could cut his skin, a moment in his fall his view of both the sky and ground were fully obscured by the clouds, leaving him with nothing but the sounds of war, which came back into view as he flew downwards, gaining speed and getting ever closer to the explosions rocking the surface. Fear set in, unable to make a sound, but simply thinking of his demise with two repeated words:

I'm falling!

_{I'm Falling!}

_{I'm falling!}

His eyes shot open, shifting from a slumped position to instead sit straight. His fingers combed through his hair, trying to clean it up a little as he looked for the source of the voice that woke him up. To his left was a guy with a concerned expression, eyebrow raised seeming utterly confused by Dakota's napping. "You're lucky you have that tall dude sitting in front of you, or the prof might've noticed." He remarked in a quiet voice, eyes back to the front as he tried to look involved, himself. Either not expecting a response or he didn't want one, as to not make their interaction obvious.

Rubbing his eyes, Dakota recovered from his sleeping state fairly quickly. Or tried, eyeing the front and trying to listen in. His thoughts blocked out most of that, however. That whole situation with the plane was a dream again, but why were there so many details this time? Who were those people, and why'd the guy in the fighter helmet have a nose longer than most sub sandwiches? Shuddering, he tried to get past that, as he realized details from the dream were disappearing, here and there. Leaving large chunks missing. There were a few words that rang in his head, however, with that same voice of authority.



Back pressing against his seat, he bit the inside of his cheek with a frown. Dream or not, finding his worth... That was a goal in his life. He had no idea what to do with himself, and while he was blessed with the chance at university, he hadn't been making much use of it thus far. He had no real progress on a path he'd chose when he talked to his parents, who judged him. He could feel it. Looking online just got him more messages of demand for him to work harder, or words of success for The Spark. He was dead weight, now. A fire that burned out before it even really began. This 'worth' was something he wasn't really aware of himself having, but it at least reminded him to not give in too easily. He had a semester at least to try and figure himself out, that'd be enough time.

If he kept falling asleep like this, though, he wouldn't last. So there was a chance he'd not have the time he was speaking of. Shaking his head, he decided enough was enough when it came to second-guessing, at least for now. As disinterested as he was to begin with to fall asleep, that hadn't really changed now. He just couldn't get motivated about anything, and it was as frustrating as it was saddening. No amount of attempting to hype himself up or getting himself involved lead to him feeling any better. He just wanted to feel comfortable, was that too much to ask?

With the wolves of doubt nipping at his ankles, he was starting to genuinely think it might be. Despite being willing to still try, he had a lot of doubts that just wouldn't fade. All of it was honestly making him sleepy again, and he felt like he'd be napping again before long. Only thing keeping him awake was the idea of the guilt he'd feel for letting the guy beside him waste his kindness. Looking in his direction, all Dakota got was a small thumbs-up gesture, which caused an honest grin to shine on Dakota's face. He offered the same thumb gesture back, before focusing on the lecture with a little more intent.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!" Jolted upright from his sleep, drenched in a cold sweat and panting for breath, Nick let out a shaky sigh as his hand grabbed his chest. His fist balled over his heart as he fought to regain control of his breathing, taking in the scene around him. His dorm room. Not that fucked-up plane he kept dreaming about, not the war-torn ground he had just collided into at what had to be terminal velocity.

Just that fucking nightmare again. Frankly, this was better than the fire one. And hey, something different this time happened. He had no idea what that guy meant by what he said, or more accurately what he was trying to tell himself. Such a verbose way of getting a message across, couldn't his subconscious hit him with the cliff notes or something? Scoffing, Nick sat up and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the last vestiges of that nightmare that clung to him. He certainly wasn't about to get back to sleep, not with that shot of adrenaline waking him up...

Thirty minutes before his alarm. Oh joy, because he wasn't already pushing it with how little sleep he got anyway. Well, he wasn't going back to sleep, that was for sure. Grabbing his phone and turning off the alarm, he grabbed his clothes and made his way to the shower.

As he showered, Nick couldn't keep his mind wandering back to that man. The 'Velvet Room', he called the cockpit. And was he making a pun when he called it a plane that existed between realities? What a hack, his own subconscious resorting to puns to get his attention on...some problem. Probably something to do with all the unresolved trauma, but what? The constant feelings of inadequacy? The -

Shaking his head before he went down that fucking rabbit hole this early in the morning, Nick tried to get back on track as the water flowed over him. Yeah, no shit his situation wasn't enviable, no shit he was thrown to the wolves. Though to be fair, he threw himself to the wolves by basically running away from home and taking what savings his parents had so generously kept for him. And then not answering any of their phone calls for three years. Two and a half, really, since the last time either of them even bothered was back around Memorial Day. Damn, not even a phone call for Thanksgiving, they really did give up on convincing him to talk to them, huh?

Well, that was what Nick wanted, so why was he complaining? Oh, right, that whole "Mommy and Daddy never loved you" complex. Eh, who cares?

So yeah, life is Hell, nobody is gonna coddle you, you're not a kid, you have responsibilities, blah blah blah. All shit he already knew. What pissed him off though, was the notion that there was something to win beyond survival. "Bullshit. There is no winning this crap. You just fucking get through the days."

And 'Whether you face reality is up to you' Oh fuck off, he was facing reality for years. He'd seen reality. He'd seen how fucked up this world really was, the shit it would do if it could get away with it. So, no, mister subconscious, he didn't need to awaken. If anything, he needed to go back to sleep.

But just like that freaky game with the eyes, there was no going back to sleep once you awoke to the Nightmare. There was no blue pill to take to forget the horrors of the Matrix, because this wasn't the god damned Matrix.

This was life. And every. Single. Day. Was a new hell.

---

Forcing on a more neutral face as he stepped out of the dorm, Nick mentally catalogued which classes he needed to go to again, just to be sure he remembered and didn't walk into the wrong room again. It wasn't that embarrassing in the grand scheme of things, sure, but it was a pain in the ass to run halfway across campus in like five minutes to not be late.

Convinced that he'd gotten it all down, Nick made his way over to his first class of the day.

And then he tripped over his own damn foot.

Pushing his arms out on the way down, Nick landed hard on his elbows and forearms, but managed to keep himself from landing face-first on the ground. Sighing, he was about to push himself up when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey man, you alright?"

NO I'M NOT ALRIGHT YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT GET YOUR GOD DAMN HAND OFF ME BEFORE I RIP IT OFF AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROAT YOU MOTHERFUCKING-

Pushing up, abruptly, and quickly standing, Nick brushed his arm off and gave a friendly smile to the stranger who'd tried to help him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks man"

"Ah, no problem dude." The other boy said, raising a hand as a goodbye as he walked off. Nick watched him go, his neck twitching for a moment, before sighing. God dammit, didn't need that today. As the usual sense of wrongness and filth and DIRTINESS that came with being touched like that flowed across his skin like the sweat he'd woken up covered in, Nick shook his head and started walking to his classroom again.

Today was gonna be a long fucking day.

Jin awoke with a startle, their sleepy brain completely convinced they had just fallen a great height. Heart pounding, sweat coated Jin was even shaking slightly. Slowly, they patted the cracked leather beneath them, and realized that yes, they were still in their car. A look out the window revealed it wasn’t even dawn yet.

“What the hell was that dream…” Jin lay back and stared at the tattered cloth roof of their vehicle. That dream had seemed very real, but then, it always did. Then again, who was Jin to know? They’d never been in an airplane before, let alone one in the middle of some unknown war. That strange old man, with his beaked nose and his weird words. Lost souls circling the drain. That was a line to remember, though Jin would try their best to forget it. They felt that way every day of their life; it wouldn’t work to keep that kind of sentiment in their head in words. Same thing about “Finding your worth”. The world had decided what Jin was worth a long time ago, and it wasn’t much.

Time to catch more sleep. Jin shut their eyes again and dropped back into an exhausted slumber. The next time they woke was to the beeping of the old watch on their wrist. 6 am on the nose.

“Ugh. Five more minutes.” Sleep was good when you could get it. But no, it was time for another day of hell.

Jin clambered out of the car and grabbed a small duffel bag. This was the important stuff – wallet, keys, and work uniform. Everything else could be lost. Slinging it over their shoulder, they headed for the school.

Barclay Waterfront University wasn’t a terrible place in the early hours. There were only a few students milling around. Mostly TAs and adjunct professors getting coffee and breakfast. Jin, with their ring of maintenance keys, had mostly full reign of the place. No one questioned the keys, even less the uniform. Access to most of the campus helped keep up the illusion that Jin was just a normal employee, and not someone two steps from being on the street entirely.

This morning’s destination was the gym. Unlocking and slipping in, they showered as quickly as possible to keep from running into anyone else. Cleanliness was tantamount to being seen as human. Body odor was one of those things even nice people didn’t tolerate, and Jin showered whenever they could. It wasn’t daily, unfortunately, but luckily there was a lovely invention called deodorant. There was no time to bask under the water; in, out and on to the next thing was the goal.

Properly clean and dressed, Jin clocked into work with a few minutes to spare. Their boss was hanging by the time clock as usual, eyeing employees and watching like a hawk for anyone late. Jin had yet to be late, luckily. But they knew the boss wouldn’t tolerate it, based on stories from the others.

“Yer almost late, Ifriti, watch it.” The boss always smelled like an ashtray mixed with motor oil.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jin was not almost late - The boss just liked to micro-manage his employees into nonexistence. Turnover was high and work was hard, but Jin had no where else to go. Somehow, the boss seemed to know they had at least one employee they could bully, and gave Jin the hardest jobs whenever possible.

This morning, they had been tasked to replace a few dead lightbulbs before the student cafeteria got into full swing. They were carrying a ladder in one arm, with a heavy toolbox and a packet of the long halogen bulbs in the other; no mean feat for someone of their… limited size.

Entering the cafeteria, they set the ladder up carefully and went about the work.

^{Moore Household : 0700 hours}
When she woke up it was slow and quiet. The last remnants of false adrenaline that her brain cooked up for that dream were still pounding beneath her eyelids. Harriette sighed, her eyes still closed, and laid still in her bed until her consciousness caught up with the rest of her. Once it did, it was still a few minutes more before she got up. Lately she'd been waking before her alarm, so the house was pure silence. Unsurprisingly, she was alone.

She sat on the edge of the mattress in her nightgown, reaching towards the end table for her phone. She fiddled with it in her hand for a few moments before opening the notepad application. Writing her dreams down was something she used to do often, and it'd been a while since she'd had one so... vivid. That plane, those people, the heat and turbulence...

Harriette stared at the phone's screen for a while, thinking. It was some dream alright. Her subconscious was bringing up images of war. She was sure the psych students would have a field day with that. Personally, she might have chosen another metaphor - though Harriette tried not to think of her... situation if she could help it. With the exception of fruitlessly fantasizing about ways out of it.

Should you find your worth... That seemed almost like a cruel joke. And from her own mind at that. Harriette squeezed the phone in her hand. Her fingers hovered over the keypad. She stayed like that for a long time, or so it felt. A few minutes later the device vibrated in her hand, the bzzz bzzz of her Monday morning alarm. She was shaken from her trance, surprised to see water droplets on the screen, but there was no time left to wonder about where they'd come from. Thanksgiving break was over, and it was time to get ready for the day. She stood, tossing the phone onto the bed with not a word written, knowing that whatever was in store for her would wash the dream from her memory.

---

^{Barclay Waterfront University Campus : 0900 hours}
The campus looked just the same as it had before the break. The halls and classrooms did too. There was still a little time before Harriette's first class, and even more before her assistant work. As she walked through the corridors she could see students and professors alike hustling to their obligations. Many of the latter juggling mugs of coffee in their hands. Harriette knew the drink's source and made her way there. Fortunately, the faculty lounge was open to her even while she was "off duty," so to speak. It was crowded this morning. Harriette let herself zone out as she poured herself a cup and let the conversation flow around her.

"You'll never guess who I ran into over the break - "

" - finally got to work on some hobbies - "

" - son's been struggling so we hired - "

" - flowers, a huge bouquet! It was so romantic - "

" - wasn't the type of work I'd come to expect from him - "

" - are you listenin', Harriette?"

Voices were floating around the room, but Harriette wasn't processing the words. Only her own name pulled her attention forward, her eyes coming back to life as the landed on the face of Mrs. Meadows. She was a portly little lady, open and kind, and bless her - she didn't even look half offended that Harriette hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"I'm sorry," Harriette said, giving the other woman an apologetic smile. "Not enough coffee yet."

Meadow giggled and playfully swatted her shoulder. "Oh don't you worry, I've been there! I was just sayin' that I don't understand the point of givin' students projects over break. Never have. How many of them actually get turned in at the end of it? Seems a mite silly."

Harriette nodded. The two kept up light conversation for a little while. Other professors and assistants filtered in and out. A woman that Harriette had grown to know quite well entered the room a few minutes later, and she could have sworn that the temperature dropped a good few degrees when their eyes met. Professor Rowen, well groomed but aging, smiled and walked right over.

"Ah, good morning Mrs. Meadows, Miss Moore," she greeted. Harriette raised her mug to her lips, glaring at what little coffee she had left in it. It was always 'Miss Moore' with her. Meadows barely had a chance to return the greeting before Rowen went on. "I passed by the cafeteria on my way here. Did you know they're still fixing things? They had the whole week to do that, were they slacking off the whole time? Honestly."

Harriette's taste for conversation had soured, so she said nothing, but the lack of response did not deter the other woman. "I trust you both had a nice Thanksgiving Break, but from what I've been told, Professor Samson had an amazing one."

"Oh? Why's that?" Mrs. Meadows questioned. She seemed mildly curious, but Rowen just gave her a mischievous smile and finally turned to get her own cup of coffee. "Ask him!" she said.

By then most of the people in the room had finished their breakfast and left. The three women who'd been congregating around the coffee maker left too. Mrs. Meadows split off to go upstairs to her classroom, leaving Harriette and Rowen headed in the same direction. The older of the two glanced at her companion and said suddenly, "he had an affair."

"...what?"

"Professor Samson. With a younger woman too, so I've heard. Word like that gets around."

Harriette took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the hall in front of her. How Leanna always seemed to know everything about a person's personal life she would never know, nor did she care to find out. The woman was like a queen bee being fed gossip by her little drones. Harriette doubted that rumor was even true. Professor Samson was a sweet old man.

"I'm only telling you because I trust you, Harriette. I want some advice, too."

This statement surprised the red head. Her steps slowed slightly and she looked at Rowen. Somehow, Rowen could always appear like she was never doing anything wrong on the outside. The picture of innocence, or maybe ignorance. She looked like that too, now, even though her eyes glittered darkly.

"Should we tell her? Samson's poor wife," Rowen said. "She ought to know something like that was going on with her husband, don't you think?"

The two of them came to a stop where the hallway separated into two opposite directions. Harriette stared at the professor. She couldn't tell if Rowen was being genuine, or if this was some kind of veiled threat directed at Harriette herself. She didn't know which was worse either, that Rowen still acted like a friend or that she felt the need to remind Harriette of her situation. She narrowed her eyes.

"...you have class in five minutes," she answered with, lowering her gaze. Professor Rowen blinked and checked her watch.

"Oh, you're right. Thank you dear, you're so thoughtful - memorizing my schedule like that."

Rowen smiled pleasantly, and Harriette returned the expression with some difficulty. Both of their smiles were full of teeth. They said nothing more to each other, separating.

Caelum jerked up suddenly, the transition from being asleep to panicked and alert so swift he truly considered his life to be in danger those first few seconds. Chest heaving with harsh breaths, he unclenched his hands from where they’d been gripping the bedding, and swept his fringe away from a damp forehead. The air grew stuffier with each exhalation, making him faintly queasy. He shambled out of bed to open the small window of his bedroom to let in some fresh air – such that it was. Checking the time on his phone, he raked a resigned hand through his hair; it was early, much, much too early.

He showered as quickly as possible, so as to not wake his flatmate. He’d rather not listen to Matt’s grumblings this early. He was exhausted, as if he’d not slept at all. The few hours he did get weren’t enough, and it showed. Caelum nearly winced at his pale, drawn face, bloodshot sclera, and the dark rings beneath his eyes. He looked so obviously unwell he was sure to get snide comments. Fuck, but he did not need that on top of everything else. For one, that dream was still lingering at the edges of his mind, promising to haunt him for the rest of the day.

The Dream. He really didn’t want to think about it, at least not before some coffee. Problem was, it didn’t take long before he was ready for the day and gulping down the nearly scalding liquid. It was still dark outside; it might be appropriate for his brooding mood, but made him all the more resentful. He could (should) be sleeping. After exhausting the worst of his scornful energy by scorching innocuous objects with his glare, Caelum retreated back to his room.

First on his agenda was filling out the dream diary – it felt plain stupid, but it was a recommendation that’d helped him take it off his mind the first time he’d had the damned dream. It was just so different from any of his others, but no matter how much he contemplated why they’d begun, which events may have led to each reiteration, or why they’d stayed exactly the same – until now – Caelum hadn’t been able to puzzle out anything specific.

Tonight, the beaked creature spoke of attaining new responsibilities – as if he didn’t have enough of those already – and having to fight. Was that about his family? Didn’t the goblin man know how much he’d struggled already to get where he was? What fucking else was he supposed to do?! He’d been facing reality for a while, now. As for his worth, well.

His pen screeched along the pages as he brutally noted down the latest nightly development. He glared down at his work, frustrated and dissatisfied, then fiercely blotted out all he’d written about his silly little dreams in quick, diagonal slashes. It took a good while to go through all the material, but by the end of it, he felt…he wasn’t sure if it could be described as ‘better’, since it left him oddly numb and hollow. He’d been intending to rip out the pages, and throw it all away, but he just didn’t care anymore.

Stupid dream meanings. It was an uncharitable thought but lacked any force. Though the following Why are you wasting your time on something so worthless? was such a lifelike impression of something his father might say, it disgusted him enough to get right into gear. He booted up his laptop, and began the grueling process of checking over his uni work, readings, notes, etc., editing, learning, or adding to the various coursework required.

Then there was the social media, wherein he mostly saw posts by his former associates proclaiming their recent enjoyment of the holidays and their enviable new energy levels. Smug bastards. Some guy went on a date, a (former) friend raved about her curriculum, yada yada yada, all those pictures of all their joy and success, it made him sick. Sometimes, he wondered why he bothered at all.

But then, the answer, as it tended to be, was his father dearest. ‘You must build up your image’ and ‘How are those admission essays going’ and ‘No new associates at all? Surely, then, you must have realized what a barren path you’ve chosen to tread’ and ‘I suspect you can still recover from this minor detour’ and ‘If you would only try hard enough’. It was an endless barrage upon his conscience, and even when he was alone, Caelum couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he was committing a terrible mistake, or perhaps, that he himself was one.

Such were the types of thoughts he had to do his best to suppress as he finished his school work. Of course, following that, he still had work set to him by his father, i.e. preparing for a transferal next school year while planning how to take advantage of any and all possible opportunities this year, building up his stock portfolio, and so on and so forth. By the time he was finishing up, Matt was waking up – it was the sound of running water that had Caelum quickly pack, actually.

He left the flat before there’d be any chance for his cohabitant to accost him with idle chit-chat. It meant he’d had no chance to replenish his smokes – which he’d really begun to miss after a few days without – or get his breakfast yet, but he’d take that over the prospect of conversation right now. Though he’d be a bit early either way, he hurried to get to university.

Alina was quite lucky to live on the first floor of the dormitory building. It meant she didn't have to spend long stretches of time climbing up and down stairs with a heavy bag - and with a relatively late class today, she could afford to relax a bit. Great. She needed some time to herself, after that weird half-remembered dream she had - if she didn't know better, she could have sworn she'd fallen down to this floor.

And she... didn't feel much like talking to the other people in the dorm right now, either. She'd do a bit of interacting later, probably.

So today was gonna be a bad one, huh? Wonderful.

She couldn't stay in bed forever, though. She had coursework, and she had a class just before lunch at that. At about ten, she finally dragged herself out of bed, and made a quick meal for herself. Cornflakes in milk, a banana, glass of water. Simple stuff. She tended not to spend much on food; she physically didn't need a lot, did she? Didn't want to get fat, or make it even harder to pay for college. After that, she brushed her teeth, got showered and dressed for the day - a simple yellow dress, this time - and pre-made lunch in the shape of a ham and cheese sandwich, a peeled carrot, and a bag of Lays. Just the salted ones. Again, light fare. She'd make something heavier for dinner, perhaps. Pasta? A salad to go with? Maybe.

She didn't pass anybody on the way out.

---

'Hey Aliiiinaaa!' Mary called out, running up behind as she did. Ah, Mary. Tall, blonde, friend to everybody. Alina's closest friend after half a semester, funnily. Embarassingly better at Chemistry than Alina. And they were right outside the gates by now, too, mostly devoid of other students.

'Hey, Mary. How's coursework going?'

'Ah, pretty swell, actually!' she replied, tossing her hair back behind her ear. 'I'm mostly done on the latest assignment; I could probably help you with it, if you wanted to come over later?' There was the ask, the request for her to come over.

'...maybe. I still need to think about dinner, too.'

'Yeah, perfect! We'll have something solid to fuel us, and crank it out in no time!' she cried, pumping her fist energetically. She hadn't said it yet...

'And then?'

'And, uh... and then we can, um, play some of this new game... it's, uh, pretty fun, you're a girl in an all-boy's school... they, uh...'

There it was. The perverse part of the query. Because, turned out, Mary was also very into pornographic games.

'Why do you keep asking me to play eroge games with you, Mary?'

'It's not ero-! It's not smut,' she whispered back intensely, blushing a little after her initial outburst. 'These are highly story-intensive visual novels with a lot of depth and plenty of paths to follow, like TellTale did before they went under. Sure, these ones involve some, you know, plot-based intercourse, for the sake of advancing the story and stuff, but you know that's not the sort of thing I'd show just anyone, Alina!' Yeah, like she hadn't asked- well, to Alina's knowledge, Mary really hadn't asked anyone else to play those sorts of games. Rumours spread like wildfire, and she suspected even she might have heard something about it.

'Besides,' Mary continued with just a hint of either mothering or smarminess, 'you'll get behind on the work again if you don't get on with it. Remember before the break, with the first project?'

'Yeah. That was right after grandad died.'

'Mm. Not to remind you of that, I'm sorry. You were in a sorry state, though, and I've seen you slowing down even after that. I do care about you, Alina, you know?' she uttered, hugging the girl affectionately. 'I want you to do your best work, and why not get help from somebody close to you?' Well, that did make sense when she considered it... she shrugged the arms away as they continued walking, they'd been there a while now.

Alina stiffened up a bit as she stopped. Close to her? She cared about her, the hugs? She- no. No way. How had she not seen it before?

'...Mary?'

'Yeah?' Mary asked, already sensing something was up in Alina's head.

'Do... do you have a crush on me?'

Mary's expression fell like a rock. Or rather, it expanded like a cloud. Or an explosion? The point being, it went from smiling and slightly worried to pure, unadulterated panic in less than a second, and less than a second after that-

'Wait a minute-!'

'OKAY I'LL SEE YOU IN CLASS ALINA BYEEEE!' Mary yelled behind her as she sprinted, full-speed, into the building and out of sight, leaving her on her own again. Then either the very thought of being attracted to Alina was deeply disturbing; or Alina was exactly right, and Mary was crushing on her something bad. She suspected the latter, and sighed deeply over the idea.

'Well, shit.'

As the minutes passed by the gnawing feeling of wasted time eroded away what comfort the student center couch offered Barney, and as he grew more uneasy his little refuge lost its savor. He’d been able to rest for a little while, but without news or gossip to distract him from himself he’d started stewing in his own juices. Like the oysters in those sea life documentaries he’d seen as a kid, left out to bake on a rocky shore by the falling tide. It wasn’t doing him any good, and it sure wouldn’t leave a better impression of him on anyone who happened to see. It was time to leave.

But where to go? As he shifted his weight around again to fight off the numbness, his head couched in one hand, Barney thought about his options. It would be a good idea to use what little time he had left before the nine o’ clock classes started to get a bite to eat--they say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all. But right now, the idea of food sounded revolting. It wasn’t just that Barney wasn’t hungry; rather, he felt as if he wouldn’t be able to keep anything down if he did force himself to eat. Stomach’s as upset as the rest of me, he thought with a painfully dry smile. Besides, eating when unhappy was what made him like this in the first place. And did he even deserve a meal in the first place, after the stunt he pulled? Have a little discipline, Barney, he chided himself. Might as well head back to his room to swap out his Calculus book for his other laughably overpriced text, then mosey on over to his second class ahead of time. Wouldn’t want to be late to that one, too. As he stood, he noticed a crack in the wall beneath the television, and his eyes lingered there for a moment longer than they should. Had that always been there...?

When he got back to his dorm he found it just the way he’d left it. No sign of his roommate Felipe. “Where’d you go, man?” Barney whispered, worried. He remembered arriving with his friends last night from the restaurant, everyone a little boozed up, but he didn’t recall Felipe dispersing along with him and Matt. Maybe he’d crashed at her place. As he put his Calculus book on his desk Barney made a mental note to give his bud a call before lunch, then reached and took the much fatter English book from the windowsill.

Immediately he sensed something wrong. The book felt cold, clammy. Barney gulped and looked over at the windowsill. Stale water pooled there, having leaked in from the window. A sinking feeling took hold of him. How long had it been there? Since…? As the realization hit, dread took hold of him. It had rained on the Friday of Thanksgiving break, at least two days ago. He plopped the text down on his desk and turned it over. The back cover was peeling. Not a good sign. When he tried to flip through the index he got hit by a funky, moldy smell, and the rumpled pages stuck together. Those he did tenderly pry apart he discovered to be blotched all over, a whole lot of ink ruined, entire pages unintelligible.

Groaning, Barney sank into his chair. If his early misfortune killed him, this was his soul leaving his body. Of course, losing the back of the book wouldn’t hurt his studies much, but there was no way in hell the bookstore would buy the text back now. Two hundred dollars, down the drain. Like he needed that right now. As he teetered, however, he pulled himself back. Calm down, calm down. It’s a textbook racket anyway. No way those scammers would have bought it back for more than, like, forty anyway. Then it would go back on the shelf for two hundred dollars for the next poor sucker to be forced to buy. This wasn’t that bad, he rationalized. This was lose-lose from the start. He stood and slipped the damp book into his bag. Better get a move on.

A few minutes later he entered Principles of English Composition, coming in just as the previous class let out. Those students shared the same unamused look of suppressed annoyance he saw every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in his own class. Not a surprise--this gen ed course was, after all, about as required as it was useless to the vast majority of young adults obliged to plant themselves in its chairs. Which was to say, extremely. But everyone had to put up with it, so put up with it they did. While a lot of the students found some solace in the class’s aide, a very pretty senior who stood in stark contrast to the typical professor fare, the better saving grace for Barney was Felipe. Their friendship began with commiseration over this very course. After seating himself Barney kept an eye on the door, watching for any trace of his companion.

And just before the cut-off, Felipe did appear. Small and lean, with a perpetual five o’ clock shadow and disheveled look that rode the line between confidently carefree and sloppy, he slouched into the room with a terribly overcast expression. Uh oh. Not good. He sat at Barney’s left as usual but kept his eyes focused ahead. Something was eating him, too. Barney decided to respect his privacy for now so things wouldn’t get awkward right before class, but it was hard to hide his troubled expression. Just two dudes, falling apart together. We must make quite the pair.

The class seemed to pass quickly. Barney had a hard time focusing. If either the professor or Harriette called on him he knew he wouldn’t be able to answer, but luckily he seemed to escape their gaze. Pretty soon the students were shifting their sorry carcasses to make for their ten o’ clocks, but neither of the sorriest moved just yet. A few moments passed of silent, mutual companionship before Barney took a deep breath in through his nose. “Hey, man,” he said softly, his first words to another human all morning. “You okay? I didn’t see you this morning.”

“Naw, man.” Felipe shook his head. He turned to his friend, revealing for the first time a blackened left eye. “Things...things went bad last night.”

Barney’s heart sank once again. “W-what happened? Are you hurt?”

“It, well, I mean, this is nothin’.” As he reached up and touched his eye he winced. He let his arm fall back to the table and continued in a hushed voice. “Thing is, last night, me and Maria got into another fight.” He hesitated, but the sympathy in Barney’s eyes assured him that he wouldn’t be able to get away without spilling the beans. “Okay, well, here’s what happened.”

“After you guys went in, she stops me in the parking lot, all pissed. Starts goin’ off about me goin’ out to drink all the time, never tellin’ here where I am, all that stuff. And I know she’s got a point, y’know, but I wasn’t thinkin’ straight and I started talkin’ back. Sayin’ she’s always too controllin’, demandin’, can’t just be there for me without makin’ a fuss. Then we’re pretty much shoutin’, and this asshole pulls up.” Felipe’s face turned angry. “Cole Baby Face Steiner. This goddamn white knight walks over, says I’m botherin’ Maria and ought to leave her alone. She turns on him sayin’ to mind his own business and I join in and give ‘em a little push. Just to say, y’know, back off, dude. Next thing you know this guy’s on the ground, howlin’ like I broke his ribs or something. He comes after me sayin’ some crap about self defense and not lettin’ me harass Maria anymore.” Leaning back, Felipe shook his head. “So I slugged him. Maria did, too. He runs off cryin’ somethin’ or other. I turned back to Maria, all happy we pulled through against this asshole, but she just gives me this look…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Told me I’m hopeless. That I never think about anythin’ before doin’ it. Then she just...goes.”

Barney rubbed his head. “That’s really bad. Cole’s in the SGA. If he whines about you...it could be really, really bad.”

“I know.” A despondent nod told Barney that his friend knew what penalties might await him. “It’s not just that, though. Maria...she looked at me like I was trash. Like she never wants to see me again. I know I’m not the greatest guy ever, but...but man, she’s like, the best thing that ever happened to me. She’s all I got! If she leaves...man, I don’t know what I’ll do. Might as well kill myself.”

This wasn’t the first time Felipe whipped out a line like that. As inappropriate as it was, he issued remarks like that habitually when faced with all sorts of misfortune, from bad grades to sucky cafeteria food. But given the current situation, something about the way he said it chilled Barney’s spine. “Hey, don’t joke like that. Not when it’s serious.”

Felipe laughed once, abruptly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, man. Just got a lot to think about.”

Unconvinced, Barney decided to play a risky card. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty much screwed, too. Missed a big test this morning. Only a matter of time ‘til I’m out.”

“Aw, bro. We can share a cardboard box together. Roommates for life!” He held out a hand for a fist-bump. Barney didn’t give him one. After a moment Felipe cleared his throat. “Uh-hmm. Well, uh, later, man.” The weight of Barney’s lightless eyes on him sent him on his way in a hurry. After he disappeared Barney turned to face forward again, drawing his feet across cracks in the tile beneath him, to stare straight ahead at the classroom’s smartboard. Other students would be arriving in a few minutes, but until then he figured he could take a moment to try and swallow the lump in his throat.

---

The murky waters of semi-consciousness held tightly upon the slumbering Mila Ford. She was tossing and turning violently as whatever was occurring in her mind kept her from peaceful rest. The sudden rapping on her door along with the resounding alarm slowly tears Mila out of her rest. The young woman slowly sits up from her couch while holding a hand to her head. Man, her head was pounding. She was even sweating a bit, but the night's dream quickly faded from memory before she could latch on to it. She yanked her phone from its place to shut off at least one of the dreadful noises. "Mila. Are you alright in there?"

Hearing the voice, Mila let out a long groan and quickly made her way to the door. She didn't even look through the peephole before opening her apartment door to see Officer Garcia. She tried to put up a front, but the dark under her eyes along with her frazzled hair told all to the parole officer. "Mila. You look awful." That was all the woman said before walking in. "Thanks, ma'am. I try my best." Closing the door, Mila rested her head against the door. "Did you happen to bring any coffee this time?"

"I don't do charity, Mila. If you want coffee then fix it yourself or pay me." With that Mila stood up as straight as she could and made her way to the small kitchen area. She started brewing two cups of coffee as she watched Garcia go about her usual inspection. Mila hated this part most about the parole process. She knew Garcia would never find anything but she had hoped that being out of prison would give her a modicum of privacy. At least Garcia was nice. Well, most of the time. Mila could tell the woman was aggravated with her about something. When the older woman got a good look at the couch she turned to Mila with this look then said, "You have a bed. Why do you keep sleeping on the couch?"

"The bed feels too soft sometimes. It's also closer to coffee."

"Still having those nightmares? I can easily get you set up with a shrink." Leaning her elbows on the counter and head in hands, the young woman groaned. "I've proven I'm not a problem. I really don't want anyone psychoanalyzing me. I need some privacy. One person knowing all my secrets is enough."

"Is that why you didn't go home for Thanksgiving? What? You didn't think your brother wouldn't tell me? Look, I've seen it before. You're scared to see the way they look at you. Mila, they are your family. Lots of families shun a member who becomes a felon. Yours actively want to spend time with you. But not right now, you are aware of what time it is?" At the question Mila slowly and with a bit of dread looks at her clock. "Ah, sh-"

"Language."

Mila grunts at the woman, "Shoot!" Then quickly rushes to the bathroom to get ready for the day. She was cutting time close. She had class in less than an hour. She couldn't miss class three times in a row. Hoping it would help wake her up, she took a cold shower and ignoring the need to work on her hair she simply put on a beanie and rushed out the door with her backpack in hand. The travel from her apartment to school wasn't long or arduous but on days like this, she regretted not staying in the dorms.

Luckily enough for her, she made it just in time for class. It was also a bad thing as Mila had forgotten entirely that they were having a test today. Putting her head in her hands, Mila really wanted to go back to sleep. That would just be a momentary escape. She'd likely have whatever dream that was again. But she would have to face the music. She hadn't studied at all, but hey this was math. As long as she had her calculator she could get through this. Moments later her head was laid down like a sack of bricks on the desk. In her hurry, she forgot to prepare her backpack for this school day. Meaning she had brought nothing she would need for her typical day on a Monday.

Taking a quick look around, hoping to find someone with an extra calculator, Mila noticed the guy who usually sat to her left was not there. Maybe it would be better to ditch this class and try to take it later. No, that wouldn't work. The professor has already walked in and who knows what would happen if she missed another class. Thankfully, the girl who sat on her right, Marisa, was one of the only 'friends' she had made since getting out on parole. The girl tended to bring an extra of everything so surely she'd lend Mila a calculator. But when Mila whispered over for help, Marisa pretended not to hear. Refusing to even face Mila. A pang of guilt hit Mila wondering if the girl had figured out about her past.

That would be something future Mila would have to deal with as the tests were now being passed out. She had run out of time to get a calculator from someone else and was certain she'd fail. A grueling hour later and Mila's stress levels are through the roof. The woman was sure she failed. Was this day just going to be complete trash? There was nothing she could do about this failing grade now. Turning to Marisa, Mila watched her get up with a huff and march away after giving a mean glare to Mila. The girl seemed to be saying to leave her alone with that glare, but Mila wasn't going to heed that message.

She quickly grabbed her things and rushed after Marisa. In a hushed tone, "Marisa. Hey, Marisa. WAIT!" Once they were far enough away from others the younger of the two turned to look at Mila. A momentary pause lasted while both seemed to try to find the right words. "Mari-"

"Mila, I know what you did. My dad got furious when he found out you were my friend. I had heard some girl got arrested from where he worked. If I'd known it was you I wouldn't have even talked to you."

"Look, Marisa. I don't care if you don't believe me, but I didn't do it."

"Why is that the first thing out of your mouth? Did you know who my father was? Is that why you wanted to hang out with me?" A short pause elapsed as Mila tried to figure out the right words, "No. No, okay. But I did find out. I didn't want to say anything in risk of losing you as a friend." Mila felt guilty. She had gotten quite good at lying but she couldn't keep herself from growing closer to others. "I don't know if I can believe that. I'll think about it though. For now, please leave me alone." With that, Marisa walked off. With much less anger than before but it still hurt Mila a bit. She walked in the opposite direction, needing to think about things too.

<sub>Nudge...

Nudge, nudge...</sub>

Eyes opening, Dakota quickly observed his surroundings to find himself having fallen asleep again. That same guy he recalled from earlier was looking at him with an annoyed expression this time, as he'd never expected to have to do that twice. Especially in the same day. Dakota tried to listen, attempting to figure out what was going on as he quickly checked the time on his phone. 'Sheesh,' he noted, realizing he'd slept until his lecture was over. This was less painful and more melancholy, the orange-haired boy not taking much concern with this, at least at face-value. A larger student in front of him stood and took his leave, and that led to people leaving one after another, marking it was time for him to get going, too.

Scooping up his belongings, he began to take his leave. A voice caught him on the way out, a simple "Hey." that sounded slightly more serious than he'd like. He turned, seeing that same guy that'd woken him up a few times. Offering a warm smile, Dakota raised a hand barely below his own chin as he offered a wave. "Oh, hey! Thanks for the help earlier, if it wasn't for you I'd probably be in trouble." Dakota extended the hand he'd been using to wave, adding: "Name's Dakota. What's yours?"

His warm smile quickly faded as his hand was quite literally brushed aside by the guy in front of him.

"Mitchell," He said in a surprisingly colder tone than Dakota expected such a helpful guy to use. "I didn't stop you to introduce myself, I had a question for you."

Dakota's arm lowered, trying to keep positive. "Ah, sure. What's up?"

"Are you taking this seriously at all?"

Dakota's head tilted slightly to the left with this question. "Eh?"

"Your classes." Mitchell made clear.

Hands sliding into his jean pockets, Dakota's view darted away for a moment, as if thinking of how to reply to that. It's not like he'd fallen asleep due to over studying, or being out all night. He was just... Bored. And even when he tried to feel invested, he couldn't. His previous attempt just landed him back in dream land, at least without a guy with such a huge nose this time, he'd think in a positive manner. Being directly questioned on his goals and investment in university made his happy exterior almost crack, but he couldn't just say that, right? He'd sound stupid--

"There's a lot of people that'd kill for the opportunity," Mitchell said through Dakota's silence, seeming impatient. One might question if it was even his business, but his annoyance with the situation seemed to be enough of a reason for him to comment on it all. "You should make the best of it while you can. It'll be the easiest time you'll have trying to find a place to fit in life."

"Right," Dakota responded, dismissively. Which made the man in front of him realize he was wasting his time, and promptly walk past him with nothing but an irritated expression. Left standing there for a moment, Dakota wondered if blowing the guy off in such a manner was the right move, but decided to get moving instead of continuing to stand around: But due to the moment stressing him out or a genuine need, he headed for the bathroom first.

His feet carried him quickly, outpacing other people as he made his way into one of the facilities' public bathrooms. Dropping his bag next to the sink, he twisted the faucet on and palmed some cold water, before splashing it onto his face. His hands quickly rubbed against his shirt to dry them as he dug into his bag, eyeing a multitude of pamphlets with irritation reflecting in the mirror. Why couldn't he feel genuinely invested in anything? No matter the class, no matter what he laid eyes on, he felt empty and a lack of motivation. He wondered why he didn't just head over to Brights, forget all of this. He wasn't feeling anything positive, anyhow. So why bother, right?

He couldn't disappoint his parents like that, though. His mother had already thought the whole band thing was a stretch, and now there were expectations for him to find another way to make good use of his life. He shuffled the pamphlets in his hands, as if hoping something would change in his head, but it didn't. There just wasn't anything he felt passionate about, that he felt he could make an impact in. He felt an utter lack of importance, and a complete lack of options despite how much potential laid before him.

It was like being robbed. His dreams and aspirations had been crushed already, and there was nothing he could find to fill that. People moved on without him, what little importance he'd felt became nothing as he fell into absolute irrelevancy. In a moment of spiked annoyance he slammed down on the counter, eyes darting downwards and noticing something peculiar beneath his now stinging palms.

Slowly lifting the pamphlets, there were a few cracks. He blinked in disbelief that he caused such damage, trailing the area with his fingers and feeling how oddly warm they were. This was quickly interrupted by the bathroom entrance opening and Dakota placing the pamphlets back down to cover the cracks, waiting for the other student to distract themselves with the bathroom before he picked up his belongings and bolted out; Frustratingly shoving his pamphlets in the garbage as he left. He was worried that he might get in trouble over the damage, but figured there were no real witnesses, so he was in the clear. Right?

'I better get to class.' He noted mentally, making a quick pace towards what would probably be his newest napping spot.

Another class finished, several more to go. Though he didn’t show it on the outside, his thoughts were sluggish, and he’d have preferred to listen to the lectures with his eyes closed. He wouldn’t have fallen asleep anyway – he felt tired, but in that way where you knew that no matter what you tried, you wouldn’t get to sleep (and, well, the coffee had certainly also ensured that) – but his eyes were sore and itchy. His note-taking and participation had been done practically on auto-pilot.

Contrary to his expectations, people hadn’t nettled him too badly about his poor appearance. Sure, he had to pretend to care about the few glibly polite remarks, and fielded a handful of questions pertaining to his holiday activities, and the state of his health or well-being, but that’d been it. There might have been a few pointed glances, and perhaps some of the whispers pertained to him, but he knew how to ignore that sort of thing with dignity and grace.

Actually, though he looked like shit, the result was nearly better than that first time he’d tried to use makeup. It’d been the week before holidays, or so, and though he’d wish to claim otherwise, he’d been worse off then than now. (Because the apprehension of what would await him home had been more exhausting than the stress of being confronted by his father – perhaps because the latter also angered and thus energized him, perhaps because the relief of finally being done with the family drama for a while had been overwhelming.)

It’d been more embarrassing than he’d considered to buy what he’d needed, but the pretension of ‘business as usual’ had got him far. That, and the matter-of-fact clerk who frankly hadn’t a shit to give as to whom he’d been helping or why, as long as the person in question was polite and ended up making the purchase (which he’d both done). Learning how to apply those cosmetics via online clips had been nearly more effort than it’d been worth. But it had alleviated the immediate worry of being judged or scorned for such an obvious weakness.

He hadn’t thought that it’d be particularly noticeable, but Matt, at least, had known immediately. “Changing up your style, pretty boy?” he’d said in that scoffing, derisive tone he had whenever he wanted to criticize something. Caelum had sniped something back, and departed in a bad temper. He’d been tense at school, wary to receive more of the same. Thankfully, his classmates had, as per the usual, been too self-absorbed to notice or care.

Except for–Charlotte ‘call me Charlie’ Willems. Her comment had been perfectly innocuous, but he’d been too keyed up to respond positively. “Oh, hey, Harrington, right? Didn’t know you, you know” she’d gestured to his face, then concluded, “It suits you.” He’d stared at her coldly, making his distaste palpable as he looked her up and down, and replied, “Yes, I imagine it is preferable to being so easily mistaken for a gutter rat.” She’d been so–confused, then indignant and hurt, he’d had half a mind to apologize. (For the whole week. Of course, he hadn’t.)

That he was now thinking of such an insignificant past event surely showed better than anything how addle-headed he was being. (Having to suffer her in his field of vision during the class contributed to his little reminiscence.) Dispensing with the distraction, he left the class, ignoring how he’d scorned a person who might have been a potential ally; just another of his failures, really. And it’s not as if anyone (father, you mean) would be impressed if he’d made all buddy-buddy with someone so unremarkable.

With a sigh, he unlocked his phone to confirm where he was supposed to go short, and frowned at a message recently left to him by Matt.

‘Need to talk asap’ it said.

‘Can’t it wait till lunch?’ he typed back.

The reply was nearly instant. ‘No c’mon here now man,’ followed by a snapshot of one of the smaller seating areas.
At least it was relatively close to his next classroom. Though he’d likely still be late, which irked him. Nonetheless, he felt it was better to mitigate whatever the issue was now than deal with a pissy flatmate later on.

By the time he made it to the seating area in question, most of the students had dispersed to class. He saw Matt on one of the couches, and even from far away, he noted that he seemed tense, maybe even worried. Caelum greeted him with a nod, and sat withing reaching distance – which turned out to be a mistake when Matt suddenly grabbed his shoulder as he said, “Hey, man.”

He thought it was more of a desperate gesture rather than an aggressive one, but the grip was still unpleasantly firm, and given how easily he tended to bruise, he’d likely have a few marks to show for it later.

“Don’t drape over me,” he scolded, knocking Matt’s arm off.

“Fuck, fine,” he hissed, then muttered, “not even a greeting.” He braced himself, drawing his shoulders back and straightening up from his slouch. “Whatever, just…listen, did you snitch?” this was said furtively, but with an edge of accusation.

Caelum just blinked, rather confused. “About what, and to whom?”

For the first time since their conversation, Matt truly gazed at him, regarding him with serious scrutiny. Then, as if coming to conclusion, he breathed out long and hard, loosing some of that tension as he leaned comfortable back. “The landlord asked me about,” he mimed a smoking gesture.

“Why’d he care? You’re of age,” he replied evenly, without a hint of emphasis on the you. They both knew he himself wasn’t, and that it’d be a problem if someone accused him of underage smoking. So, why would– coming to a realization, he narrowed his eyes, and leaned closer to Matt. “Don’t tell me it’s…something else,” he had a firm suspicion as to what, but didn’t want to say it out loud, where it could be heard – thankfully, no one seemed to be close enough to listen in just then.

“Yeeah…just some pot,” he said this very quietly, and with a quietly resigned air.

Caelum had an urge to growl just then. “You brought that shit into the apartment, you fucking idiot?!” he whispered harshly, stooping to using swears when he was so enraged.

“I aired it out, he’s just a fucking scent hound, apparently,” he retorted, peeved.

Brushing a hand through his hair with a tsk, he said, “Good, at least he doesn’t have any evidence. Don’t do that anymore.” He caught Matt’s gaze firmly, holding it until he looked away. “I’d suggest quitting, generally, but I know not to ask too much from you,” he snarked.

Matt scoffed. “D’you have to be such a damn bastard about it? No, don’t even try to answer, I know you can’t live not being a little shit. And here I was about to ask for help,” he trailed off, obviously angry both at Caelum for being disagreeable and himself from having had expected otherwise.

“Help? You have got to be joking,” he sneered. “I am not cleaning up after your messes. Be happy I’m willing to act ignorant about your confession.”

Matt glared at him heatedly. “Think you’re so much better, do you? You’re lucky I’m not willing to go down to bring down your small-time delinquent ass.”

Caelum quirked the side of his mouth in a smirk (a weak one for him, not that Matt would realize), as he had his last word, “I’d dearly like to see you try.”

His cohabitant, the one who’d got you hooked on nicotine and supplied your smokes, you fucking idiot, was shaking his head, then stood up, and stormed off with an uninspired “Whatever.”

Caelum watched him go, then leaned back into the couch, rubbing at his eyes. Class had surely started already, his stomach was twisting unpleasantly, and to reiterate, he’d just made an enemy out of the one person who actually has goddamn blackmail material on you. “Great…just great.”

He briefly groaned into his palms, then dragged all his fingers through his hair, mussing it up even further. He took a moment to genuinely consider whether he should even bother with his next class or not.

As they went through the rote motions and changed the lights, Jin found themself half-listening to conversations from the students.

“– can’t believe they gave us an exam after Break – ”

“ – ate way too much for Thanksgiving dinner – ”

“– and I swear she’s fucking the TA – ”

Useless chatter, most of it. Jin had spent the majority of their Thanksgiving in a line at the food bank, able to get one plate of turkey and vegetables donated by a local restaurant. That had been nice. There had been dusty cans of food as well, no doubt from the back of some rich person’s pantry. It seemed the only time there were really donations were around the holidays. Most people forgot the homeless existed the rest of the year. Jin had gotten used to the continuous, gnawing hunger that came from never really being satiated. This was just par for the course of their life – there was just not enough to go around. Homeless shelters were out of the question; there was no place for someone like them.

Another conversation caught Jin’s ear.

“– just leave the plate, the cleaning people will pick it up, it’s their job after all – ”

Jin felt an old, familiar anger bubble up in their stomach at those statements. Casting their eyes toward that particular conversation, they saw two girls getting up from their table, and indeed, leaving plates full of half-eaten food behind. Jin’s fist clenched so hard that their knuckles popped in unison. They wanted, so badly, to say something to those spoiled brats. The staff had enough to do without cleaning up after those stupid children who had everything. For all the opportunities and gifts they had likely been given in their life, they couldn’t even bother to take a plate to the trash? Rich people were the absolute scum of society.

Pouring the rest of their focus into their work lest their tongue get them in trouble, Jin finished up the cafeteria lights and started packing up.

As the brats took their leave, Dakota and his annoyed expression took their place. Disgruntled from the damage caused in the bathroom earlier and frustrated with his own feelings, he had found himself making a U-Turn and skipping his class. That last nap made him hungry, anyhow: He could at least find a little joy in some food instead of being pestered about somehow else prying on how much of an opportunity he was wasting.

His irritated march came to a halt when he saw the leftover mess on one of the tables. Now, he was more than happy to spite himself, but the sight of someone having left their mess laying around for someone else to pick up was just terrible. Where was the common courtesy? Sure, there was staff who were paid to clean, but that didn't mean leave them more of a mess than they already had to deal with. "People around here." He grumbled to himself, gathering up the garbage. He took one of the crumpled up, unused napkins from a mini stack that was left behind and used it to sweep some of the crumbs off the table and back onto one of the plates, as well as clean some sauce he couldn't particularly identify off the table, though it'd probably still need a proper wipe-down later.

Satisfied with his quick job, he took the plates and carried them over to dump them in the trash. Noting there seemed to be a university staff member packing up some of their work supplies in front of his destination, he passed by only a short distance away, offering a simple "'Scuse me, sorry!" As he managed to dump the trash in its rightful place. Momentarily standing there to clap his hands together and brush a few crumbs off into the trash.

“Oh, sorry.” Jin shifted the ladder backward, to keep from blocking the garbage, half watching the guy throw things away. Then they did a double-take. Had they really just seen that?
“Uh.” They really did not like talking to the students. Despite being within the same age group of most of them, Jin always felt a deep disconnection. They were the ‘haves’ and Jin was most definitely a ‘have not’. Without making eye contact, Jin continued to speak.
“Did you actually just clean up after those girls?” They didn’t see a uniform or badge or anything else on him. He wasn’t a worker. “Why?” The old anger had been buried and replaced by utter confusion.
Dakota turned, hands getting a final wipe against his jeans as an attempt to clean them as his head slightly cocked to the left at the question. He hadn't actually expected someone to notice his small deed, let alone question it, but considering the tone the boy couldn't help but try and provide them with an answer, as simple as it was. "There's enough for staff to do without people piling crap on," He answered, gesturing towards everything being packed from whatever they'd been doing. "Not like I came here being productive anyways, why not pick it up and loosen the load on you guys a little? Just good manners."

Jin stared for a moment, very surprised. It seemed that all the ‘haves’ were not built the same. That was refreshing. A twist of guilt hit them, as they realized that they’d been shoving all the students into the same little box. That wasn’t without reason, but still…

A faint smile appeared on their face. “Well, thank you for doing that. You’re a really thoughtful person.” Definitely more thoughtful than most of the other students, that was for sure. How many times had they seen trash and other things simply left behind on benches for someone else to deal with? It got old, and fast.

There wasn't much room to hide the small but cheery grin on his face, Dakota feeling a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction in being able to help. "Hah, it's not an issue. If people were a bit more considerate maybe we wouldn't have so many problems day-to-day." Momentarily, his mind raced to the ways he wanted people to be considerate of how he felt after his whole medical ordeal. That wasn't anyone's problem but his, though, so he'd happily bottle that up as to not ruin a decent conversation.
Jin found themselves chuckling softly at the boy’s grin. “I totally agree with you, there. You wouldn’t believe how many dorm lightbulbs I have to change. Stuff people could do for themselves. There’s enough larger work around this place that I could skip all of that and have plenty to do still… I mean, you can Google how to change a lightbulb, right? Geez, you would think… n-nevermind.” Realizing they were about to launch into a pretty bad rant, they backed off a bit. Out of the corner of their eye, they noticed something on the cafeteria wall that they could swear hadn’t been there before.

There was a crack in the plaster, a decently sized one at that. Usually that kind of thing was on the bathroom floor due to humidity, not in the middle of a cafeteria. “’Scuse me a sec.” Jin said, carefully putting down their tools and approaching the wall. They poked gingerly at the crack in the wall, finding it warm to the touch.

“That’s… really weird.” They sighed, marking it down in a little pocket notebook all the maintenance crews carried. It helped to notice what needed to be done before it became a larger problem. Goodness knew Jin would probably be the one asked to fix it later.

Going back to the boy, Jin apologized quietly for leaving the conversation. Then there was a pause, as if they didn’t know what to say. Which was the case. “Uh. I guess I should let you get some food, huh?”

Blinking away from the thought of someone not knowing how to replace a lightbulb, the mentioning of food did catch Dakota's interest. He almost forgot that's why he came marching this way in the first place, one of his hands gently pressing against his stomach as if to visualize his hunger. "Ach, maybe so. First meal of the day is the most important one!" He stated, keeping a positive disposition. Maybe that was why things were getting to him so much: A good meal might make today go a lot smoother, though this conversation had helped a bit overall.

"But maybe I'll see ya around? You definitely gave me a reason to keep picking up trash I see--" Pausing, he realized that the two of them hadn't exchanged names at all, which brought him to a halt as he thought of a way to rephrase it without needing a name, before giving up and changing the subject entirely to names. "For someone talking about manners, I sure lack 'em! Didn't even introduce myself; Name's Dakota." His introduction was followed by an extended hand, the boy noting he didn't really know many of the people here, and beyond popular belief, the staff were people, too. They didn't even seem to have much of an age gap, though someone working diligently like that was probably a few years his senior, he assumed.

Jin was a bit lost in thought, wondering if they had in fact eaten yet today. Sure, breakfast was nice when you could get it. But work coffee was free, and Jin tended to add a ton of sugar just to keep their energy up. It wasn’t break time for another several hours, and the job paid for one meal a day. Jin usually piled their plate as much as physically possible, and the staff usually let them get away with it.

Coming out of their thoughts, they noticed the boy’s – Dakota’s – outstretched hand. “Oh, right.” They wiped their hand on their pants, trying to make it clean before shaking Dakota’s hand briefly. “The name’s Jin. You’ll probably see me all over the place doing what I do. Feel free to come up and talk – it’s nice to have a little break.” A faint smile lit their eyes up. “And thanks again for being a cool person.”

Jin... Dakota repeated the name mentally, trying to nail it into his noggin as he gently shook their hand. "For sure! Be careful though, or I might keep ya from getting any work done." He offered as mostly a joke, but with a certain fondness for social activity, it was quite possible he'd talk Jin's poor ears off one day without meaning to. That final thanks meant a lot, even if it was all over just a few crumbs and some plates. Or maybe there was more he couldn't read into, though his mind wouldn't drift off that far thinking about it. "Ah, you're too kind. I better get going before I start getting embarrassed or something." He remarked playfully, grip loosening and allowing his hand to slip away, a small thumbs' up being about all that was left he could offer to Jin before he went to look over what sort of selection the cafeteria had for a hungry individual like himself.

Unfortunately for him, he was not only hungry, but also indecisive. He scratched at his chin as he thought way too much about his decision, being more of a prop in front of the staff than an actual customer as he began letting other people go in front of him because of his lack of ability to choose. It seemed his late breakfast would probably take a little while longer.
Jin flashed a thumbs up of their own, chuckling as they started gathering up the tools and ladder again. That had been a pleasant distraction, but now it was back to work. They had to report in for the next task, not to mention advise the boss about that wall...

(Collab between @Mistress dizzy and @Potemking)

Chemistry, as ever, was no fun. She understood the basic concepts, at least, even if she wasn't on Mary's level. The problem was that it dragged. It dragged beyond all reason. And she was sure the teacher wasn't trying to be a drag, at that, he seemed fairly into his subject, kept getting people involved and everything.

But... almost every day she had a class here, she recognised that she'd missed part of the lecture when she snapped to attention, and usually had to ask somebody what she'd missed later. And a lot of the time, that was Mary. And since she'd all but admitted to a crush on Alina, that was gonna be... maybe a bit weird.

Or maybe she'd pretend like Alina had never asked the question to begin with. That'd be fine too. She tried to keep the thought off her mind by poking around a thin crack in the desk in front of her. It was weird, honestly... she didn't necessarily have a set seat, so it was probably made since last time she was here, but the crack was an odd shape. Kind of unsettling, though she didn't know why. Maybe because it was uncomfortably warm, a bit like somebody had sat on that specific spot. Or like an overheated electrical device? That would explain the draft coming out of it...

'Psst, hey,' came a voice from next to her. Who was this guy... Mark, right? With a cat picture on his phone, and she guessed a sympathetic smile and tone. 'You look a bit down, Alina. You want to look at some pictures, and I can share the transcript with you after?'

'No thanks. I've got it.'

'Aw, come on,' he quietly tried to persuade her, 'I know you keep asking Mary about stuff afterward. I just...' He puffed out from the corner of his mouth, as if trying to phrase himself. 'You never look happy in here. I wanna see if- tell you what,' he realised with something of a glow to his features, 'maybe you can come with me and my friends, and we go to the cinema? Mary'll be there, I'm pretty sure!' He did seem earnest, but...

'No thanks. Mary wanted to study with me tonight.'

'Well, that's fine,' he continued, 'it'll be over the weekend-'

'I said no, Mark.'

'...psh. Fine, then,' he uttered, turning back to face the front with more disappointment than true annoyance. Then turned back for a moment: 'And my name's Guy, by the way.' Ohh, that explained why she didn't remember it. It made sense now.

The lesson continued unabated. Damn, she'd missed something important again. No way to avoid that awkwardness now.

The sound of running water drowned out the incessant droning of the spiteful, self-destructive thoughts in Nick's head as he rubbed his hands clean in the sink. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he tried to ignore the skin on his back and neck tightening and the edges of his vision blurring and going black and white and-

Oh. Oh no. Oh no oh fuck okay you're having an episode Nick just stop and calm down and breathe it's gonna be okay you're safe you're at school it's just the bathroom it's okay you're safe you're in school you're not there you're not there you're not there you're not there.

Noticing that his hands were gripping the edge of the sink as the water kept running and he was staring down at the little hole that water goes through fuck man he doesn't know what it's called right now he's trying to unfuck his brain.

Yeah gonna wanna talk to the doc about that. FUCK, and I was doing so well! Fucking asshole, just let people get up on their own I'm not a fucking cripple. Taking another few deep, shuddering breaths and realizing that he couldn't take one single breath without nearly breaking down, Nick pushed himself off the counter and sighed. Just get it together, throw some water on your face and

And the door opened while he was psyching himself up, another person coming through and heading to a urinal. Looking up at the mirror, Nick realized that he'd definitely just been seen crying, his eyes a little red and tear marks plainly visible on his face.

Some lawyer you're gonna be, Waller. Fuck. Just. Get. It. Together! Shoving his hands into the water and bringing them back over his face, Nick rubbed his hands over his eyes and repeated the motion a few times, getting his forehead sufficiently wet to annoy himself, but at least washing away the tear streaks. "Fuck..." he whispered under his breath, not caring if the other boy saw. It would hardly matter, dude would probably just assume his girlfriend broke up with him recently or some shit, not the spiraling endless torment that actually was his life.

He doesn't care why would he care he barely knows you you don't matter to him just like he doesn't matter to you it's just a passing face in a crowd of endless faces that see nothing and know nothing and want nothing to do with you just like everybody el-

Okay time to stop that line of thinking and go to class. Forcing himself to walk through the door like a normal human being (There are no normal human beings just the masks we put on to pretend we fit in), Nick walked to class, mind unfocused and soul raw like skin that had been rubbed far too long in a scalding hot shower.

He paid attention, he bantered, he played the mask just like he always did, but it was easy to tell the energy wasn't quite there. Late night they'd assume, and they wouldn't be entirely wrong.

But they'd also be kinda wrong because he was mostly just doing it to stop the spiraling. Every second he went without talking, without fidgeting, without doing something to occupy his mind was another second for the tunnel to constrict and his vision to go black and white and those weird cracks to keep showing up everywhere and he wasn't sure if they were always there or if they were new and why the fuck were they glowing?

Visual hallucinations weren't a thing he normally dealt with. Tunnel vision isn't a hallucination. So are these things real? Why were they glowing? Cracks don't glow, especially not on shitty college desks made by prisoners for ten cents an hour. Oh hey something to think about if only they were talking about it in class he could go on another rant about how fucked up the system a bunch of them were hoping to join was.

But that wasn't the current issue at hand, so Nick stayed his tongue and instead tried to focus on one of those weird cracks, running a finger over it. It was...warm? And it felt like a breeze was coming out of it. A very light breeze, barely noticeable, but Nick was used to tactile oversensitivity. The benefits of PTSD!

Shutting off that line of thinking, Nick rubbed the crack a few more times before sighing and putting it out of mind. Whether he was hallucinating or this was some kind of weird fucked up daydream or he was still dreaming, he didn't really think on it. It's just a weird little crack. Hardly a problem.

He'd just go back to mostly focusing on class, not worry about the weird possibly PTSD-induced hallucinations, and his day would continue like normal because there was no way it could get worse, right?

^{Barclay Waterfront University Campus : 1000 hours}
Just focus... get your head out of the clouds, Harriette.

The morning felt like it was just dragging on, and her mind was being weighed down by her earlier conversation with Rowen. In terms of previous interactions with the professor, that one hadn't even been that bad in hindsight - so why did she have this heavy feeling? Harriette's thoughts were stormy and unfocused, but she could only hope the sleepy students of the morning class couldn't tell. The first day back after break, most of them were interested in anything but the lesson, so her chances were pretty good. While the class was shuffling out, Harriette was idly sorting papers. It might not have been apparent to the students that she was wrapped up in her own head, but it was obvious to the English professor she'd been assisting.

"Are you alright?" The professor asked. He seemed more curious than anything, which Harriette supposed was the nature of scholars. All busybodies. Slowly her hands came to a stop, the stack of paperwork in her hand having been neatly stacked a couple times over already.

"Yes," she said. She didn't offer anything else in way of an answer at first, but it didn't seem like the man was keen to go anywhere without a little more reassurance. Nosy, she thought, but kept her silence.

"Well, if you say so. You seem tired," he said, and this time Harriette could hear the sympathy in his voice - but it wasn't what she'd honed in on. He'd said she looked tired. It nearly broke her right there. She didn't hear his next words about how the first day back was always rough, or how he hoped the rest of the day went better for her as he stepped away to go to his office. Tired. Harriette bit her lip, upset and nearly trembling. The old man didn't mean anything by it, but didn't he know you shouldn't tell a woman she looked tired?

Taking a deep breath, Harriette collected her things and hustled out of the classroom, heading right for the nearest women's restroom. She was glad to see that no one was in there at the moment, so when she slammed her bag on the sink and stared into the mirror she didn't feel like she was making a scene. I am tired, but like hell am I going to look it. Studying her face's reflection, Harriette determined that she could use a little touching up. There was a frown on her face that wouldn't seem to budge, which was probably making her look worse than she wanted to. She spent some time reapplying her makeup, and once she was more or less satisfied Harriette checked her schedule. There was plenty of time before her next class.

Alright. Let's try and get some work done, she thought. She opened the door and exited the restroom, only to run smack into a a shorter woman who just had to have been holding a drink in her hand. The collision itself was nothing, but it startled the younger student and the contents of her cup went flying, splashing the both of them.

"Oh my God, I'm - I'm so sorry!" The girl screeched, waving her hands in mild panic. She started babbling, running into the restroom and returning with wads of paper towels in her arms, which she shoved into Harriette's hands. "I didn't expect someone to - sorry, sorry! At least it won't stain I think?"

It smelled sweet. It was probably juice, which most definitely would stain. Harriette summoned all of the patience and calm she could find within herself and let out a long sigh.

"It's fine. I have a change of clothes. You - take care of yourself," she told the girl. Briskly, Harriette headed down the hall. Then down the stairs to the lobby, out the door of the college and to the parking lot. Unfortunately though she could eat in the faculty lounge, she couldn't park in the faculty lot, but the walk gave her some time to cool down. This morning sucked, but maybe with every little thing piling up now it would make the afternoon more tolerable. Alright, universe, just get everything out of the way now, she thought to herself as she reached her car and popped the trunk. As if granting her facetious wish, Harriette's phone chimed off a new message.


"Still with the act. She must have had a great break," Harriette murmured to herself, reading the text over. Honestly, she was glad for the distraction right now. Working on something like grading essays was something she could focus on, and tune out the rest of the world in the process. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was around, Harriette ducked into her car and changed her top before making her way back toward the building.

While climbing the steps to the front entrance Harriette paused, noticing a long and thing crack in the concrete. When had that happened? Was there some kind of cold snap recently? Her eyes trailed the line and found that nearby where it ended, another one ran up part of the brick of the building's exterior wall. It was odd, it didn't move with the bricks at all, instead running straight over them like it was draped there. Harriette lingered, staring, but a gust of November wind urged her inside after a few moments. She headed towards a familiar office to collect the work assigned, and then looked for a quiet place she could settle down in. Unfortunately, but not unsurprisingly, many of the campus' study rooms were packed with people already. Friends catching up, students getting a head start on projects. Harriette would much rather keep looking than go back to the office, so she made the trek to the opposite end of the building in hopes of finding a room that wasn't at capacity.

She poked her head into one, and blessedly it wasn't full. In fact there was only one person in it, a student with his arms folded and head pressed against the table. Was he catching a nap or something? Harriette went in and placed her things down on a table. She didn't get the sense that the student was sleeping... maybe dozing at best. If she were in his position she would hate to wake up and see a stranger in the room with her, so she quietly cleared her throat before announcing her prescence.

"...studying?" She asked first, a lame joke for an icebreaker. Once she got the student's attention she gestured to the paperwork she was spreading out. "Do you mind if I work in here?"

---

With a rough start to her day, Mila hoped that things would take a change for the better. However, fate could care less what someone wanted, and often it chose certain individuals to beat down upon. The lackluster performance on her math test would certainly not be the end of her day, as the next class came soon after. This time it was English. Not that difficult of a subject. Mila was used to writing papers of various formats. The problem came in the same way it had for the math class. An essay was due today and Mila had left hers at her apartment. Thankfully, the professor gave her until the end of the school day to get the paper to her office.

Two classes in which she wasn't fully prepared didn't seem to be enough though. The very next class was for public speaking. The instructor for this class was known to be difficult. Nothing was allowed late, and the door was locked once classed started. Mila sat in her seat dreading the possibility that her name would be called to give her speech today. The young woman knew her content well, but she didn't have her PowerPoint which the professor put a lot of stock in. Watching the clock tick by, Mila started to feel that at least one of her classes would still have a high grade. However, with five minutes left, the instructor decided to call on one more student before their time was done. "Mila Ford, your turn."

With a sigh, Mila hung her head. Of course, she'd not get out of this that easy. Walking to the front of the class she just hoped the lack of materials wouldn't tank her grade. "I don't have a PowerPoint, but I am ready to give my speech." The click of the professor's red pen seemed to ring in her ears, but she continued on at the prompting of the professor. Her speech went well for all intents and purposes. If she had the required visual aid, Mila would fully bet on receiving a 100 on the assignment. She knew though that a lack of anything was seen as a lack of responsibility to this teacher. After making it back to her seat, the class was promptly let out. Mila looked back at the clock and two things jumped out at her.

As her nerves from today's mistake ate away at her, it seemed this caused her to go just a bit under time for the presentation. The second thing which caught her attention was an odd-looking crack across the face of the clock. Mila looked around the class but no one seemed to notice. Even the professor who was looking at the clock said nothing. She began to approach the man only for him to shoo her away. "Ms. Ford, I will not be taking any late hand-ins. The next class starts soon so I need you to go. If you have something to discuss with me, come find me during office hours."

With an exasperated sigh, Mila left taking another look at the clock over her shoulder. Wierd. Maybe she had just not noticed it during the class, or, what was more likely, her tired mind was simply seeing things. At the very least, she had a few hours before her next class. Mila would be able to go home and be prepared for the rest of the day. For now, though, she really needed to find somewhere to rest. Her addled brain from a lack of sleep was making her see things. Wandering the halls she found a study room which was mostly vacant. There was a familiar figure laying his head down on one of the tables and a woman Mila vaguely recognized. Mila walked in just as the woman finished addressing the man who might have been sleeping. It seems Mila wouldn't be the only one coming to this room to relax. Politely waving to the woman and the guy who she now recognized as Barney, Mila made her way to a table a bit away from the other two. "I hope the two of you don't mind if I take a nap over here."

Upon sitting down she noticed another weird crack in the table where she sat. It was small, barely noticeable. Mila put her hand on the crack to feel how oddly warm it was. She really must have been sleep-deprived. In an effort not to be rude, though, Mila looked at the other two waiting for their responses before taking a nap.

Even if they couldn’t break his bones, words could still hurt, and Barney needed more time to recover from the blow Felipe’s tasteless joke dealt him than the incoming students gave him. Once forced to pack up his stuff, surrender his seat, and leave the classroom for the next bunch to suffer through. He paid no mind at all to the professor taking the aide aside before both made their way out, and turned singlemindedly to finding a new, more private refuge. If he hurried, Barney knew, he could find a study room before each one in this wing got occupied, and if he did he could be assured of all the privacy he could ask for, thanks to a basic rule of college life.

Even in the relatively short time Barney had spent here at Barclay Waterfront, he’d observed that just about everyone tended to keep everyone else at a distance. Of course everyone wanted to spend time with their friends, but when it came to anyone they didn’t know so well, it was the unspoken rule to stay away. When seated in the auditorium, bleachers, chapel pews, cafeteria, you name it, people would stick to opposite ends of the rows, and if they couldn’t, they’d put at least a couple seats in between themselves and anyone else. Only when obliged to by lack of space would they come together. At mealtimes it was common to see just one or two people per round table, and during a shortage one college visit day Barney had been shocked to see people putting two chairs together and eating in their laps rather than asking to sit with strangers. The average student preferred to find another bench than sit on one with someone else. And of course, if someone came upon a study room -little more than a nook, with two tables max, a couple chairs, and a single whiteboard- they’d be happier to sit out in the hallway than cohabitate.

It was a lonely paradigm, although for someone who wanted to be alone, it could be useful. Often enough Barney found himself wondering exactly why this seemed to be the norm, and the best answer he could come up with was stress. In college everyone had a whole lot on their plate. Classes, homework, projects, degree plans, work, debt...each person Barney saw struggled under the weight of an invisible burden, bending their minds rather than their backs. A clock hung over every one of their heads, their hands ticking steadily down. This was a place where people wagered their money and their lives in hopes of a better future, and for your average Joe it took a lot of work. In a situation like that nobody needed to open the can of worms that was human interaction. Better to mind your own business, and give everyone else the space to mind theirs. Nobody wanted to be bothered. In a way it was a behavior borne from mutual understanding, politeness, and even sympathy. And nobody, as far as Barney could tell, deserved more sympathy than himself, who having made it link by link and yard by yard, labored under a ponderous chain indeed.

So it was that after he found himself a miraculously unoccupied study room and collapsed onto the table like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Barney expected nobody to disturb his brooding.

But disturbed he was. At Harriette’s first word he jolted awake from his stupor with a grunt of alarm, and seeing none other than the teaching aide from Principles of English Composition shocked him even more. However, his surprise turned to embarrassment almost immediately, enough to turn him almost as red as her hair. “Oh, uh, no. Just...taking a break, is all. And ah, please, go right ahead.” In an instant Barney receded entirely from the table to his chair, leaving his visitor the whole space to work with, only to realize his mistake. If he wasn’t studying, what was he doing? It was a miracle anyone would want to come in here with him already present in the first place, and if there was nothing to occupy him, his presence might get uncomfortable, and fast. He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, and that was that.

Of course, he didn’t even read what came up on the screen. Instead he started overthinking things. Though normally not really self-conscious, the events of the day already left him raw, so much so that even a little humiliation left him scrabbling to put himself together. How lame it must look, he thought, for a big guy like him to be scared so badly by so little. It felt a lot worse than usual to look pathetic in front of someone like her, too--someone so composed, unflappable, professional. Although by no means one of his degenerate classmates who he knew spent a little too much time thinking about this lady than was healthy, it would be dishonest of him to deny her charm. Though technically a student herself, she spoke, taught, and even moved with a certain measured elegance. Coolly composed and even a little aloof, she gave the impression of someone in total control of her life, a cut above all the struggling freshmen. Since Barney started college late, he was only slightly younger than but there really was no comparison between the two of them. Adding in her style, she was practically a noblewoman, and he a peasant, grubbing in the dirt. And since for some unimaginable reason she had decided to come here, his number one goal was to not make himself look any worse.

That said, his embarrassment burned inside him as the seconds passed. No doubt Harriette came to speak to him about his participation in the class, which anyone could see was lackluster. In her politeness she no doubt meant to approach him without causing him too much distress. Thinking objectively, Barney could fathom no other reason why she would break the unspoken rule of college life and shorten the distance between them. He decided to try and make amends. Even in tenuous circumstances such as these, Barney Rynsburger was no shrinking violet. He could speak firmly and honestly, just as he wanted to live his life. As such, after a few moments went by, he cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Uh, hmhm. Sorry about that a moment ago. I’m just a little on edge at the moment. I also wanted to go ahead and apologize about how I’ve been doing in Poe Comp,” he said, using the popular abbreviation for the class. Pausing for a moment, he thought about how to best phrase his next bit, so as to not sound like he was trying to make excuses. A little vulnerability, a little humanity, might garner him some sympathy. “I’m not normally one to make excuses, but things really have been rough lately. It’s just one thing after another, after another. I might have to retake Calc One at this rate, but money’s super tight as it is, you know?” He gave a wry smile. As he looked at Harriette, though, his eyes narrowed slightly. Something wasn’t quite right, and after a moment he realized what. “Er...sorry to just drop this on you, but I think there might be a little...smear. On your face.”

He brought up a hand to gesture to his own face and indicate the area around and below Harriette’s right eye. After a sudden splash of juice and a hasty top replacement in the cramped confines of her car, her freshly-applied makeup had smeared, and ‘a little’ was a polite understatement on Barney’s part. A heaping portion of distraction had conspired to keep her from noticing, and though Barney made sure not to stare, he could clearly make out what looked like a dark circle of accumulated fatigue beneath the eye of the invincible aide. Maybe, he suddenly realized, his rambling about things being rough had been preaching to the choir.

At that moment, Barney became aware of someone else in the room. She’d arrived while he had his face buried in his phone and gotten Harriette’s approval to seat herself for the sake of a brief respite. Now that Barney actually glanced at her, she seemed very familiar, too. Half a foot shorter than Harriette but pretty in her own right, she was the girl who he sometimes heard whispering to her friend for a calculator in his Calculus class. Neither really knew the other, and even her name escaped Barney at the moment, but right now she served as an ample reminder that he’d missed today’s big Calculus test, and in so doing proved that he would never succeed in college.

Barney also realized that he’d probably been disturbing the peace she sought to sleep in with all his talking, too. Plus, if it turned out that Harriette didn’t actually have business with him, which suddenly seemed much more likely to be the case, then he’d definitely screwed up again. The image flashed in his mind of a bunch of people at a party all staring at the camera with expressions of confusion and disgust. “Uh, anyway,” he began, getting to his feet. “Reckon I oughta be going, to get ready for my eleven o’clock. So long.” Rather than give into panic and bolt away, however, he took a moment to compose himself and depart with dignity. If it turned out that anyone did have business with him they could stop him, but otherwise he could make himself scarce before he messed up again.

Jin walked back to the maintenance ‘hub’ with a sense of purpose. On the way back, they had noticed several more of those little plaster cracks, in very strange places. Texas didn’t get earthquakes, right? So what was the deal? They hated to be the one to report more work, and have the boss bitch them out for it.

Heading back in the door, they couldn’t even open their mouth before the boss approached. That was odd.

“Hey boss, I’ve got some stuff to call in. Some weird cracks I’ve been seeing-” They went for the notebook, pulling it out and expecting the diatribe to begin.

It didn’t. Instead, the boss jerked his thumb at one of the folding chairs. “Sit down, Ifriti.”

Jin did so gratefully; walking around this massive school with heavy tools did tend to wear them down. “Sure. What’s up, boss?”

The boss sat down too, and had an oddly serious look in his eyes. “Ifriti. There’s the annual personnel review coming up. Some administrative bullshit the school makes us do every year, as if we don’t have work to do. That means I gotta go through all the employee records and verify your shit. Names, addresses, employment history and shit.”

“Okay…” Jin said slowly, feeling an unknown sense of dread creeping around their stomach.

“Your address is fake.” His voice was flat, but his eyes were pinning Jin down.

Jin swallowed, and did not say a word. They could only squirm in their seat.

“I looked it up – I gotta look them all up – and it’s a church, of all places. Why?”

“I-” Jin couldn’t speak, for the bile that was rising up in their throat. “I-” To tell this man the truth would be giving the man far too much credit. He wouldn’t care and Jin knew that. Besides, they had already lied and been busted, which just looked bad for any job.

“Look, I don’t care why you lied. You either fix the form and we all go on with our fucking lives, or you don’t fix the form, and I send it up the ladder. They’ll probably have to look into it more. Probably fire you if they don’t like what they see. So?”

Jin’s heart was about ready to bounce from their chest. There was no fixing that form without a second lie, which would easily be caught. The truth was worse somehow – no one would give a single shit that Jin was living out of their old car. So this was it? Back to the street? Back to having nothing?

“I can’t fix the form.” Jin managed to get out before rising from the chair and fleeing, feeling this morning’s breakfast rising up quick. They managed to stagger to the nearest bathroom, shoving aside students, to barely make it to an unoccupied toilet. Everything came up, and up, until they were left dry heaving on the side. Something broke inside, and they started to simply cry, like a child.

After that, they staggered from the bathroom after rinsing their mouth, and started to walk the campus quite aimlessly. Should they just pack their shit and leave now? Or wait for the axe to come down on their neck?

@BCTheEntity, @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, @SilverPaw


Thoroughly off-put by how his morning had been going, Nick trudged to the campus cafeteria, only paying enough attention to his surroundings to avoid bumping into people. His mind was reeling, and though he’d regained enough of a hold over his mental state to avoid a total spiral, his heart was still beating heavily, his breaths came shakily, and he was sweating just a little from his forehead despite it being the end of November. The adrenaline rush from his close call earlier hadn’t quite faded yet, and he was suffering for it.

Caelum was unaccountably pleased it was lunchtime. His latest class hadn’t been entirely bad, but he’d been late and stared at unfavourably by the professor. An experience he didn’t care to repeat, certainly. As he made his way to the cafeteria, his quietly grumbling stomach gave him another reason for his relief and anticipation - he was hungry. He’d not eaten a proper breakfast, just a small snack from a vending machine. It’d been enough then, but the lack of proper nutrition showed now. It was only a shame there were so many people during this time slot. But there was nothing to do but line up.

Alina was glad to be out of the class. Sure enough, she’d had to ask Mary about what she’d needed as extra notes, and they both pointedly avoided the topic of what she’d said earlier. Maybe she should have taken Guy’s help... oh well. It didn’t matter, anyway. It was lunch now, and she had her small lunch to unwrap. It was honestly better than trying to get anything from the college cafeteria - the lines were always... lengthy.

She should really have known better than to try and unwrap the sandwich whilst walking. It usually wasn’t an issue, but she still needed to get it open- but, like clockwork, she wound up tripping on a chair, spilling the whole thing over a couple of the people lining up. Especially the cheese. Go figure, now she’d need to line up too- and what could she say to them?

‘Sorry.’

Nick could only sigh as he felt something ‘plop’ against his side and he looked down, only to see bits and pieces of grated cheese all over his jacket, with a few slices of ham to boot. “Oh come the FUCK on…” he thought, and apparently said, only noticing after the fact with a cringe. On reflex, he went to wipe the offensive debris off of his jacket, only to smear it into the fabric. “Ohhh god fucking dammit....” He muttered, deflating. “...probably gonna need to dry clean that.” And today was going so well, Nick mused. Just figures it’d keep getting better.

There was movement from the corner of his eye, but before Caelum could react properly, sandwich bits were flying into him, getting smeared into his shirt and vest. He whirled in the direction of the offender, seeing some hapless girl picking herself up, apologizing quietly. “Do you honestly believe a ‘sorry’ is going to cut it?!” he fumed, barely restraining himself from outright shouting, but anger clearly lined his tone.

Gritting his teeth, he went to grab a bunch of napkins, stacking them on his tray, and using one by one to pick bits of food off himself carefully. All the while he sent heated glances at the offender, and eventually, after getting the immediate urge to cause an even larger scene out of his system, addressed her again. “If you want to be anywhere approaching useful, you may want to think about compensating us for the cleaning,” Caelum waved a hand to encompass himself and the others who’d been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of this mess.

“Though,” he continued, without waiting for an answer, looking up and down her scruffy appearance with disdain, “as I suspect you are unable to afford that, you should at least help mitigate the disaster.” Then, he returned to saving his clothes, as much as he was able to with only a few napkins.

Caelum was close enough to notice a man dealing with his jacket, and shoved the napkin-full tray in his direction. “Use those, if you like,” he offered harshly.

Alina blinked as the scene unfolded in her direction. Go figure. You spill food on people, they get angry. Angry enough to demand repayment for cleaning costs, even, or at least to demand she help them with cleaning up. Was one of them about to cry, too? Or... was that from before now? Now she felt bad. She should do as she was told.

‘Okay. Sorry.’

Grabbing a napkin, she began picking pieces of cheese off of the more upset person, with the puffy eyes. Smearing cheese and ham water into it wouldn’t help, they needed pulling off. And butter, now that she looked at them both.

Nick barely paid attention to Caelum’s little rant, tuning it out like he’d tune out his mother’s yelling. He took the napkins with barely a nod and plucked off a few bits of cheese, only to notice that the girl who’d dropped her stuff also grabbed a few napkins was helping. He tried to smile at her, but he imagined it only came out as some kind of pitiful half-whimpering look, given that he was, actually, about to start crying again out of frustration.

What a jackass he thought of Caelum, but didn’t say anything, unwilling to provoke the well-dressed boy’s ire and definitely break down into sobs right here in front of everybody. Because that was what he needed. Instead, he focused on getting more of the crap off his jacket, glad that he bought a backup before leaving Oklahoma. It would be coming in handy while he got this one cleaned.

When Caelum was done with the hasty cleaning, he was still a mess. Not unexpected. But at least there was nearly no more cheese or ham anywhere in sight. The stains remained, of course. And who knew what was in the places he couldn’t reach, namely, his back? God, and everyone was staring. Some had laughed, many more were whispering to each other, and a majority of the strangers were so pointedly not looking their way, they may as well be announcing their interest.
“Maybe some water and soap?” Caelum muttered, fingering a stain on his cufflink. But then...did he really want to go like this to a bathroom, wandering past who knew how many people? Sure, he’d have to bear with that regardless of where he went, but in that case, it’d be much better to just go straight back to his flat. At least then, he could get a change of clothes, and get these immediate professional attention. Hopefully they wouldn’t shrink, or something.

“So much about lunch,” he scoffed. He briefly glanced at the slip of a girl who was now helping the other man, but barely felt a spark of ire. Honestly, Caelum was suddenly just so done with it all. And it’d been barely half a day. Shaking his head resignedly, he cleaned up his tray, sorting out the various items where they belonged.

There was nothing for him here, anymore, not if you didn’t count the onset of mortification, which had started to seep into his awareness to fill in the gaps left by his now departed rage. Jesus, if anyone asked these people, Caelum was sure they’d identify him as the worst of the lot, rather than the sandwich-hurling menace. Now all he needed was some idiot deciding this debacle was school-paper worthy. He smiled twistedly as he considered what his father would have to say about such an accomplishment.

Alina, meanwhile, had already been part and parcel to any such mortification already. Or she would have been, if the incident mattered at all. It was another bad thing to add to a bad mood. What could be done about it?

‘I’m sorry.’

Well apologising more wasn’t going to help, was it? She’d not even helped the other guy out, he was clearly still angry, she couldn’t just...

‘Is there anything I can help with to make up for it?’

Hell. Why make that suggestion? She didn’t have time to help people do things, she was... well, no. She had far, far too much time to do all manner of things, which was the actual problem. Courses didn’t do much for her, and she didn’t get out a lot. But luck would probably preempt any studying with Mary later…

Nick nodded a few times absent-mindedly when Alina apologized, still mostly focused on cleaning the last bits of sandwich debris from his jacket. “It’s alright. Not like you decided to yeet your whole lunch on some random guys on purpose.” He couldn’t help but let out a little sigh, then shook his head when she offered to help. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like it’s gonna cost a lot to get this thing cleaned anyway.”

Content that he’d done a halfway decent job at managing the disaster that was his jacket, he bent down to grab some pieces that had fallen to the floor and bundled them up in the ever-growing pile of napkins that he was holding. “And now you gotta buy lunch, too. Still, where the fuck does that guy get off talkin’ shit like that?” The little bit of fire in his voice surprised Nick, who shook it off and shrugged. “‘As I suspect you are unable to afford that’ God, it’s dry cleaning, not an entire new suit. Dumbass.”

Realizing that he was rambling to the floor, Nick stood back up and walked over to a trash can to deposit his collection. “To answer your question, you don’t have to do anything, no. It’s gonna be like twenty bucks, if that, to get this dry cleaned. I’ve had to do it a few times here and there.”

Since Caelum had to go back and forth at least once while cleaning up, he was unfortunate enough to hear the jacket-man disparaging him to that daft girl. Though he’d begun feeling embarrassed for his outburst, he couldn’t help but be slighted by the offense. Indignation coloured his cheeks, and he bit out, “Where do I get off?” The words weren’t as heated as his previous one, though he was still clearly displeased.

“I simply berated her for her negligence, that’s all,” defensiveness coloured his tone. It was a poor excuse, and Caelum knew it. As he’d suspected, the moment he’d reacted with vitriol to what people perceived as a minor accident, he’d been the one painted as unreasonable. He had no allies here. Perhaps, in this, he would have them nowhere. The man’s recrimination twisted his scowl into a grimace. “I am sure you believe your anger is justified,” Caelum challenged.

Alina wasn’t keen to be in the middle of a fight between people over a mistake she was responsible for. And she’d spilled her food on them, after all. She deserved a bit of berating for it.

‘You don’t need to fight. It’s my fault.’

She stayed quiet other than that, shuffling backward to keep out of their way.

Nick just raised an eyebrow at Caelum’s defense of his outburst, before shaking his head. “Dude, I’m not angry. This isn’t my angry face,” He joked, pointing at his face. “It’s... I guess casual disdain would be the best way to put it.” He looked back at Alina, clearly uncomfortable and sighed. Truth was, he hadn’t expected the other guy to hear him, and was actually feeling pretty awkward himself.

“She tripped. It happens, man. It’s not worth blowin’ up over. Treating people like that really just makes you look like the asshole.” He put a hand on his head, rubbing his eyebrows. “Whatever, just call me an asshole and do whatever you were gonna do, I need to eat.” With that, he turned away from the other boy and went over to the line to wait for food.

Caelum quirked a brow at that, briefly tilting his head. Casual disdain, was it? “Well, the feeling is certainly mutual,” he lied smoothly. If anything, he was fairly indifferent to the other male at the moment; for one, his skills at deflection were decent enough, and for another, he’d retreated, so the pressure of being backed into a corner receded as well. “At least the advice was sensible,” he commented with a shake of his head. He did as he’d intended to, and departed from the cafeteria.

By now, Alina had started to walk off toward the back of the line, the job of tidying everything up done largely by the two guys. And largely not her. Go figure.

‘...thanks.’

She should say thank you to the person defending her before leaving him, at least. That was what people expected, appreciation, even though he hadn’t needed to say anything for her. She wasn’t worth that much.

Turning his head back to Alina, he gave a visibly half-hearted smile and shrugged. “Uh... you’re welcome I guess? I dunno, just... don’t feel like I did anything worth thanking me for. Kinda just feel like I made it worse…” Nick admitted, his half-smile turning to a half-frown before he shrugged again. “Oh well. Something tells me that stick is firmly up his ass anyway. Probably wouldn’t get along on a good day.”

‘Right. Well, see you.’

She didn’t want to inconvenience this guy any more than she had. Best to just get in line and wait to get lunch, now.

Nick turned his head back to the line and nodded. “Sure.” It wasn’t much, as far as goodbyes went, but it was something. Well that fucking sucked.

Having finally decided on his meal for the day, Dakota didn't hesitate to plop down and get to munching. He found himself slightly more aware of himself making a potential mess after his encounter with Jin, taking more caution to not leave a mess behind. Meal time was best time, or at least that's what he'd usually say with his bandmates. Currently alone at a table, it left a sort of emptiness to his meal that he hadn't felt before things started going downhill. He didn't exactly have people he hung out with now, he just kind ofSpent his spare time by himself. His mind wandered to how he used to go out a lot more, be a lot more active. Now that drive wasn't there, or a good reason to do anything, he found himself a lot more stagnant. Which was a mixture of infuriating, and saddening.

The lack of eventfulness came to an end with a ringing from his phone, the young man sliding his mobile device out of his pocket with a light lean to gain access to his pocket, before answering it with a look of visible uncertainty, as most people who'd call him knew he'd be in class around now. "Hello?"

"How's it going, bro?" A voice asked, from the other end of the line.

"Micki!" Dakota exclaimed, a smile on his face. "Just at lunch, man. Things around here are a damn bummer." He answered as he placed one elbow on the table, laying his head on his palm.

A small laugh came from Micki as a response. "Brutal, man!" The laugh quickly halted, however. "Things have been an absolute drag for me, too. That's kinda what I was calling you about, bro."

Eyebrow raising, Dakota questioned this. "Eh? What's up, Mick?"

"It's the band, man." Micki responded, tone a little down.

Eyes widening, Dakota's head lifted from his palm and he straightened up a bit. "The band? What, things going under?" He fearfully asked. Despite his lack of involvement, that didn't mean he wanted the others to fall flat on their asses.

Micki scoffed. "Nah, bro. We're getting higher profile shows." He said, matter-of-factly. "The thing is, we're taking a lot less gigs than before. Mel says going for bigger shows is better for the band, but I just haven't been making enough money since we started passing on the small jobs."

"Wouldn't they pay more? What's the deal?" Dakota asked, confused.

"It's Miranda, man." Micki paused, realizing how casually he said it. "-- The replacement singer Mel picked up, y'know?" A slightly startled noise came from the man as he put together how rude it was to mention that to Dakota of all people. "S-Sorry, ah-"

"It's fine, man." Dakota answered, tone souring somewhat though he tried to hide it. He knew he was getting replaced, obviously, and from stalking the band's activity in general he already knew about the female vocalist they chose. It wasn't groundbreaking news, or anything. "Anyhow, how's she causing your profits to go down?"

"Hell, it's not that our profits are goin' down, she's just taking a bigger cut! And Mel is entirely okay with it, too!" Micki's tone expressed he was upset, for sure. "He keeps saying it'll work out for us and we'll be raking in cash soon, but I can't live off the scraps I'm getting now. He told me it'll just be a little longer, but..." A deep sigh escaped the young man, before he presented Dakota with question: "Look, man. Can I borrow some cash?"

Dakota frowned. So this is why he actually got a call. "I don't know, bro. I'm not exactly swimming in money, I've got my own expenses."

"I know, man. I already asked your mum, and she thought it'd be better for me to ask you, though!" Micki's voice sounded desperate.

Dakota's expression darkened at what he heard, however. He momentarily fell silent, before simply repeating: "Asked my mom?"

The panic from Micki could be felt through the phone. "I know, man, I know. But we all go way back, so I thought--"

"When did you ask her?" Dakota's question was quickly answered without Micki's help, as multiple text messages started flooding in.

"-- Like, a minute before calling you..." Micki admitted, defeat in his voice.

Ignoring the messages for the moment, Dakota felt a deep frustration bubbling in his veins. He was already given enough hell about the whole band decision to begin with, now his old bandmates were asking not only him, but his parents for money? Micky wasn't a bad guy, but he possibly caught Dakota in a bad situation and at a bad time. He already had enough judgement coming his way, this was just going to make it worse.

Gripping his phone tightly, he spoke in a very simple manner. "I can't help you, Mick."

Micki was less angry, more saddened by the news, mainly about what he'd have to do now. "Yeah, bro, I understand. Sorry if I caused a mess, this is just not the best situation, y'know?"

"Tell Mel to get his head out of his ass," Dakota responded, irritation leaking through. "Whatever dumbass idea he has, it won't work if he ends up losing half his band over bad financial decisions. You've got to look after yourself first, you know?"

"I know," Micki responded, lowly. "I know."

Taking the phone from his ear and glancing down at it, Dakota wasn't sure if he could carry the conversation further. Looking at the time, he realized he had an excuse, at least. "Sorry, Mick. I've gotta get to my next class. I hope things work out for you."

"Me too."

A little small talk for a goodbye later and Dakota was able to hang up the phone. He instantly put it away, not wanting to see whatever his ma had sent. She was surely pissed, and he didn't want to handle that right now. He couldn't, he'd end up making an ass of himself. His morale sunk, realizing he turned down the first request he'd gotten from a bandmate since the split. But on the other hand, he felt angry that such a request came to him: He was the one that lost out in this whole situation, it wasn't his fault Mel couldn't keep his head on straight. But a part of him still felt guilt for not lending a hand to a friend in need, even if he really couldn't afford to do so.

Frustrated, he scooped up his trash and went to dump it. He'd probably not be able to focus (Not that he did all the time anyways,) on his classes, but that didn't mean he should stop going entirely. He'd made enough of an ass out of himself for one day with multiple people, so he'd get back on track. Or try to. Hell, not that it probably mattered either way. Not like any job he'd get out of Uni was going to give him any satisfaction.

Extremely disgruntled, he silently marched off to his next class, a clear scowl on his face.