Good Enough Chapter 2
#3 of Good Enough
College is always a hard transition, especially when you don't know what you're walking into or, worse, who you are going into it. And you never know how you'll come out of it.
Chapter Two--Day One
Damien dreamt of his band, of Malachite. He dreamt of performing again, enjoying the lights, the presence, the excitement of it all. The crowd below was raucous and energetic, Malachite was playing flawlessly, and, more than anything, Damien hadn't missed a beat.
His vocals were perfect, his strumming impeccable and...
For a moment, the music seemed to fade away. Down below, Damien saw a series of familiar faces in the crowd, cheering just like everyone else around them. Yet for a moment, the venue went silent, carrying only the sound of a voice that was still new to Damien, yet fresh in his mind.
"Come on!" Thomas was shouting. "Rock out!"
Damien's breath snagged, his voice hitched, and he felt himself let go of his pick in the middle of a solo. All at once, sound returned: gasping from the audience, sharp notes from the band as they tried to cover his mistake, and (more than anything), Thomas's surprise. Flanking Thomas were Ozzy and Torrie, both looking shocked as Damien felt himself start to unravel.
"Dude," hissed a voice beside Damien. He looked over at Ed, who seemed confused. "Don't flake on us."
Damien shook his head and quickly grabbed the microphone once more. He finished the song as strongly as he could, but his voice seemed hoarse now, lacking its earlier power and control.
"Thank you," Damien said meekly into the mic. "This has been--"
"An honor," Kris, the bassist, said, moving forward. She gave a small bow. "You guys want one more?!"
The crowd cheered and they played one last song... But Damien's attention was no longer focused on the music. He played along, sang his lyrics, but his focus had shifted to Thomas... Their eyes locked on each other during the entirety of the song and the rest of the world seemed... unimportant. Distant... And he...
"WAKE UP!"
The shout roused Damien's consciousness and the world transformed instantaneously. He jerked up from his bed and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Thomas, clad in only a towel and still dripping from his shower.
"Did you have to shout?" Damien inquired, his face burning.
"No, but you told me to make sure you woke up," Thomas said, flinging the towel off indiscriminately. He started to dress and Damien wondered if he was blushing... His face was heating up uncomfortably...
Stop watching, he told himself. Yet he still watched as Thomas dressed, finally managing to pull his eyes away as Thomas started to pull on some shorts over his briefs. He kicked off his blanket and stretched, yawning lazily.
"So, what's your schedule like today?" Thomas continued.
"Two classes today, English comp and chemistry. Should be done around six at the absolute latest. Anything after that is hell..."
"Yeah, well, if you're free at around noonish, mind doing me a favor?"
"Like what?"
Thomas shifted awkwardly. "Well, I need a taste-tester."
"For what?"
Thomas didn't answer right away. Instead, he fidgeted nervously with his shirt before saying, "I'll text you the details later." He looked at his wrist as though to look at a watch that wasn't there before retrieving his cell phone from the bedside table. "Got to go. Need to eat." And he dashed from the room.
"Oookay," Damien grumbled to himself, gathering his toiletries for a shower.
The lecture hall was larger than Damien thought it'd be and already, students had begun to file into the classroom. He thought for a moment before moving to a seat in the middle of the hall. He pulled out his laptop from his backpack, thought for a moment, then pulled out his notebook. He sat quietly and checked his phone quickly. He had three new messages. One from Ed, one from his mother, and another from Nate... But nothing from Thomas. He replied to them quickly, lingering on Ed's own message.
"I miss you too, buddy," Damien said to himself.
"Excuse me," a soft, melodious voice said. "Is anyone sitting here?" Damien looked up. A pretty young calico was already seating herself beside him. She smiled at him, her eyes shining. "Sorry, it's just that you took one of my favorite spots."
"Oh, sorry. I'll move if--"
"No, it's okay," she replied. She extender her hand to him. "Anna Meadows."
"Oh, I'm Damien Blackwell," he answered, shaking her hand. "So, you're here for English too?" Ask a stupid question, he thought regretfully.
"Yeah, I love writing," Anna answered. "It's always been my favorite subject! You?"
"Not sure how I feel about it," Damien said. "I used to do a lot of writing in high school, but--"
"Can I see it?!" she asked somewhat forcefully.
"I don't really have any of it on me," Damien replied. "I left most of it back home. Besides, it's just some boring juvenile stuff. Nothing anyone would really like."
"I doubt that," Anna scoffed. "You don't really believe that, do you?"
Damien shrugged.
"Well, you shouldn't," she continued. "I think anybody can be a great writer. That's what makes it so fun. It's different for everybody. Everyone can express themselves uniquely in the way they write and it makes it so incredible to see so many different styles in the world."
"That's how I feel about music," Damien interjected. "I love the way anybody can make some music and make it different and how it can really come from anywhere and--"
"Breathe," Anna interrupted. Damien took a breath. "You're that kid who was playing his guitar yesterday!" she said suddenly. "You passed out when you... Sorry," she said quickly when she saw the look of humiliation on Damien's face. Many of the other students had turned to face them, drawn by how loud they had become.
"It's okay," Damien remarked. "I just wish I hadn't... you know... fainted. I don't even know what happened."
"Maybe it was just a bit too much, all the people around you and stuff," Anna suggested. "It's not the worst thing in the world. I don't think I've ever known someone to be so popular so quickly."
"Popular?"
"Did you see how big the crowd was? They loved the music you were playing," Anna stated. "And--"
"Settle down," said an authoritative voice in the front. An equine adult had entered, dressed in a suit, and set his briefcase down behind the desk. The class, now filled to capacity, fell steadily silent. "Good morning. My name is Professor Ross Welles. I'll be your instructor as we journey through the world of the English language."
Within five minutes that class had fallen into a bored stupor.
"Wish he wasn't so boring," Anna complained as she and Damien walked out of the lecture hall in the wave of students. "He'll ruin my favorite subject if he doesn't do something fun."
"Like what?" Damien inquired.
Anna shrugged. "How should I know? I'm not a teacher yet."
They walked together and chatted until they reached the library. Damien, having simply followed Anna, stopped in surprise.
"You coming?" she asked hopefully, her hand on the door's handle.
Damien was about to reply, but his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He shook his head. "I've got to go meet someone."
"Okay, I'll see you later," she replied dejectedly as she walked in.
Withdrawing his phone from his pocket, Damien saw that it was Thomas calling. Excitement began to fill him as he answered.
"Hello?"
"Good, you're free," Thomas said. "I need you to do me a favor."
"What's going on?" Damien asked, confused. He had stepped into a large kitchen, filled with young students in similar, white aprons and jackets. He scanned the crowd, which was now eying him suspiciously, and found Thomas, taking something off a stovetop. With a nervous chuckle, he walked over to him.
"Why did you call me here?" Damien hissed at him. He glanced down at the food that Thomas was now carefully plating. "What is that?"
"Just a quick, grilled sandwich," Thomas answered. "You're going to eat it."
"... Why?"
"Because I need a taste-tester," Thomas explained. He withdrew something from his pocket. "Eat, fill this out, and I'll get a good grade, hopefully."
Damien moved closer and Thomas leaned downward. Absently, Damien thought of how strange this must've looked to onlookers, but now, others were filing into the kitchen, each one being served a variation on a grilled sandwich. "Did you pick me because you're hoping I'll give you a good review because we're roommates?"
"No," Thomas answered sheepishly.
"Yeah, you're lying, but I'll be nice when I review your"--Damien poked it playfully--"food." Smiling at Thomas's nervousness, Damien picked up the sandwich and took an experimentally small bite. For a moment, he was shocked. Then, he took another. "It's not bad," he said, continuing to eat. "Pretty good. I'm kind of impressed." When he finished, he said, "No drink?"
"I'll buy you one if you fill this out," Thomas answered, looking smug now. He set the paper and a pen down on the countertop where Damien had been eating, taking the plate away. Still grinning, Damien looked down at the paper, his eyes skimming the words "MEAL EVALUATION" at the top. It was a survey about the food, from everything to taste to presentation.
Damien glanced over at Thomas, who was now washing the plate. He smiled as he started to fill in the survey. A tall, but lanky, leopard came over when Damien was finished, snatching the paper away. Temporarily stumped, Damien waited until Thomas came back.
"Where'd the evaluation go?" Thomas inquired.
"He took it," Damien replied, pointing.
"Ah, okay," Thomas said. "Wish I could've seen what you wrote, but..." He shrugged. "Well, we've got some time now. Want to play a quick game of football?"
"No," Damien snarled. "Never again. Think I'll just go relax back at the dorm for now."
"Hey, I'll come with," Thomas replied. He untied his apron, set it on a nearby rack, and shrugged off his white jacket, draping it over his arm. "We'll invite everyone over. You know, Torrie asked about you this morning."
"What'd she say?" Damien asked eagerly as he started to follow Thomas through the kitchen. They exited the building and Thomas paused for a moment to enjoy the sunshine.
"A lot," Thomas remarked. "Said she's never met anyone as weird as you."
"Weird? In what regard?" Damien asked irritably.
"You're short, scrawny, shy--"
"Enough," Damien huffed. He started to walk and Thomas followed. They were silent as they walked through the campus. As they walked, they went by the library and, out of the corner of his eye, Damien swore he saw Anna, leaving the library with a book under her arm. He was about to call out to her, but someone else's voice distracted him.
"TOMMY! D-MAN!" Ozzy was hurrying over to them. He high-fived Thomas, and pet Damien's head playfully. "What's new, guys? Liking the college life so far?"
"Kind of," Damien said, but Thomas's voice drowned his out.
"Yeah, it's not too bad. Although, from what I hear, there's supposed to be a big blowout party this weekend," Thomas said.
"Oh, yeah, I just heard about it," Ozzy said.
Damien didn't wait for them to finish talking. He had already started to walk away, certain that if this conversation was meant for him, they'd call him back. They didn't so he continued on his way towards his dormitory. Anna was nowhere to be seen. He got back to his dormitory and seated himself on the bed. He shrugged off his backpack. He reached for his guitar and started to play a short tune, one that had no real meaning. Just something to drown out the world.
His phone started to ring. He set his guitar aside, pulling out his phone to check to see who was calling: it was Thomas.
"Dude, where'd you go? Ozzy wanted to ask you about the party this Saturday."
"Yeah, I don't really care for parties," Damien replied. "Not my scene, but you guys have fun."
"Okay, if you're sure... Well, look, if you've got some time before your next class, we were going to go hang out. You should join us."
"I'm fine here. Think I'll just kick back until my next class. I'll catch you later."
"Okay... By the way..." The door opened suddenly, and Damien jumped backward. His guitar hit the wall, leaving a small chip. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't about to be attacked: Thomas and Ozzy stood there with wide smirks. "Like the new song."
They backed out the room just as quickly as they had come and Damien willed his heart to slow. Bastards... He'd get them back for that one.
His second class of the day was a science class: chemistry. Unlike the boring, drab walls of the lecture hall he had journeyed to earlier in the day, the class's laboratory was far more interesting, covered in motivational posters and safety tips. A strong, yet unfamiliar smell cycled in the lab and for a moment, Damien feared it would seep into his fur as he sat at an available table. Much to his surprise, a familiar face joined him. Torrie soon sat down beside him, playfully jostling him as she did so.
"So, how's your day been?" she asked jovially.
"It's had its ups and downs," he answered calmly, much more subdued.
An awkward pause formed between them and, for a minute, they watched students start to trickle in, seating themselves at the tables which allowed four to sit at each one. Then, Torrie spoke, her voice lower and less mirthful than before.
"Can I ask you a serious question?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"About what? Why are you whispering?"
"Because I don't want to embarrass you in front of people," she insisted. She visibly bit her lip before saying, "Do you have a crush on...?" She trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
"On who?"
She looked away and was about to continue when two more seated themselves at the table, a bespectacled, nervous-looking otter and a fast-talking mouse with white fur and black spots. They were talking to themselves and, for a moment, Torrie looked scandalized, as though she had been ignored in the middle of talking. But Damien was intrigued by their conversation. He had picked up two key words: "drummer" and "bassist".
Torrie cleared her throat noisily to get their attention. The mouse looked confused but the otter quickly spoke in a shaky, embarrassed voice.
"S-sorry," he said. "We... we should've introduced ourselves. I'm James Noels. And--"
The mouse interrupted. "The name's Warren. Who the hell are you two?"
Torrie's jaw dropped as if she'd just been slapped in the face, but Damien, whose earlier intrigue turned to dislike rapidly, said, "I'm Damien and this is Torrie." Warren nodded, then turned his attention back to James. Before they could resume their conversation, Damien spoke again. "Do you two play music?"
That got their attention. "Yeah, I play bass. Jimmy, here, plays drums."
"Well, I play guitar. I used to be the guitarist and singer in my old band--"
"Can you play good?" Warren interjected.
"Yes, he can and he can sing too," Torrie answered, eager to be heard. Warren, however, didn't speak to her.
"We... uh... we need a guitarist," James stated meekly. "We... we're trying to keep our old band's music alive by continuing our band, but we're just lacking people."
"I'd be happy to help," Damien offered.
"Good to have you on board, friend," Warren said, offering his hand. "We were just talking about having a rehearsal on Saturday. You in?"
Damien said, "Sure" at the same time that Torrie said, "No."
Before she could say anymore, the teacher (an ocelot) had sauntered in, a stark contrast to Damien's last professor. She bounded into the room, brimming with energy as her light brown fur seemed to sparkle in the lab's light.
"WELCOME!" she shouted, startling the vast majority of the class, one of whom fell out of her chair in the middle talking on her cell phone. The device fell and cracked on the floor, but the professor paid it no mind. "This is CHEM 101 and I'm your new favorite teacher, Professor Trancy, but you can just call me Erika."
Throughout the class, Erika had kept them busy taking notes, not just on prepared slides, but intriguing videos and an amazing experiment that Damien would admit he didn't fully understand, but was impressed by nonetheless. As they filed out, each one of them now bursting with the same energy their professor had, Warren and James walked by them.
"So, mate, Saturday night? You good?"
"Yeah, I'll be there. Just tell me where."
"Good, here's my number," Warren said, pulling out a slip of paper from his pocket, his phone number scrawled untidily on it. "Call me later, but in the meantime, we"--he wrapped his arm around James--"got shit to do." And they walked off.
Torrie, beside Damien, snorted indignantly. "Jerks. What about the party Saturday night? Aren't you going?"
"No, not my scene," Damien answered. Then, before she could reply, "Are you going?"
"Yes, everyone but you and those fags are going."
Somehow, Damien's mind focused on the slur and he realized he was scowling. A wave of indignation surged through him, coloring his words. "First off, you don't know that they're gay and secondly, even if they are, that's no reason to be so... condescending."
Perhaps his tone had been harsh. She flinched at his reply but quickly recollected herself. "Of course you'd say that. After all, don't you have a crush on Tommy?"
"No," Damien replied, his breath hitching slightly at the accusation.
Then, her eyes opened wide in surprise. "Ozzy?"
"No!"
She eyed him suspiciously, then said, "Then my gaydar's messed up because I could've sworn you were eying my"--she emphasized the word harshly--"boyfriend."
"I'm not gay," he retorted before starting to walk away. She jogged slightly to catch up to him, but he didn't speak to her. They walked in silence towards the dorm and, just before they walked into the building, she spoke.
"I'm sorry, Damien," she said, pulling on his arm to make him stop. "I didn't mean to--"
"Just drop it," Damien said. "It's not that big a deal."
"Are you sure? You look pretty pissed."
"It's nothing. Just... tired, I guess."
"Okay... See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah..."
August 21st 20--
So, today's kind of been an up and down day, MJ. Met a cute kitty today, Anna, but the class was boring as fuck! Thomas is going to torture me with his cooking and Torrie's probably mad at me or something after we had an argument.
But, on the bright side, I got to speak to Ed today and he's doing good. I got to join a new group with Warren and James. They're some pretty cool guys. We went out to eat today and just kind of talked about the band, which is called "Loksosceles" and I don't know if I spelled it right. I'll double check it later. They even have a name for the first album: "Threads of a Spider's Design".
But Thomas and Torrie... They're just homophobic or something. I don't know how I feel about it. I mean, my dad says its wrong, Thomas thinks it's weird and Torrie just blew up about Warren and James being gay (even though they might not be). I don't know what to think. Gay people don't bother me or anything.
Just hope all this bad blood goes away soon.
--Damien Jaime Blackwell
(Just checked the band name: It's Loxosceles)
Chapter 2.5--
Wednesday...
Damien found himself lying awake in the dorm, staring up at the ceiling which he couldn't see in the darkness. Back home, when he couldn't sleep, he would play a lullaby on his guitar to try to induce sleepiness, but with Thomas asleep beside him, he felt it was wrong; the sound could very easily wake his roommate.
So, he contented himself with simply staring up at the ceiling, rays of the full moon's light spilling into the room through the open blinds. The window had been thrown open as well to invite in the cool nighttime air, a relief to the hot and sticky day that made the campus very uncomfortable. The gentle breeze swept into the room, and Damien found himself relax at the sound...
But another sound had caught Damien off-guard: a moan. At first he thought the sound wasn't from the room, but with yet another moan, he could tell that it was Thomas's voice. As subtly as he could, he turned his head, swallowing slightly at what he saw. Though his hand was concealed by his blanket, Damien couldn't have mistaken the movement. Underneath that thin blanket, Thomas was masturbating, his breath hitching very audibly as he tried to bite his own lips to keep the moans from escaping to very little success.
Then, that single moment when his body twitched and--
"Shit," Thomas grumbled to himself. With a strange carelessness, he whisked the blanket off himself, bunching it at the foot of his bed, as he walked in strange gait towards the laundry hamper they had been sharing. He shrugged off his shorts and underwear and set them inside, wrapping the briefs in the shorts to hide the moist stain. Then, he hurriedly threw on another pair of underwear and, pausing to see if Damien was still sleeping, got back into bed, pulled the blanket over himself and rolled over, turning to face the wall.
Damien opened his one eye when he was sure that Thomas was back in bed. His own breathing was strangely labored and he could feel a hardness in his groin.
Well, he thought, _that happened... _