Lads / Unpacking

—Raphael—

There’s no backing out now. This whole thing has my stomach twisted so much that I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I did agree to do this. Stupidly. Seymour said he’d handle getting all my things to my new (temporary) home at Briar Rose, some place called Stone Hall, and that I would be ‘among friends’. I guess whatever it takes to meet the brief on this assignment….

The Institute maglev stops at Sub-South Kensington Station and I take the lift up to street level. It’s actually hidden inside one of the neighbouring buildings that serves as an Institute front, some cafe or something. It looks unassuming enough. Either way I head out and check my phone for the directions to the house. Up Exhibition Road into Hyde Park? I start walking up the street. There aren’t many humans around right now, but even so I am feeling very anxious. Why do I feel this way? It’s always been my job to archive human things, why am I feeling so vulnerable now? I’ve been in crowded concerts with thousands of humans and for some reason here I am feeling totally exposed. Well… I guess in those concerts I’ve been off in the wings and using the Institute drones…. Whatever! Here I am walking up some random street fully disguised and feeling the most naked I’ve ever been. I guess anticipation is a bitch.

I can see the park coming up. Isn’t Royal Albert Hall somewhere near here? I remember doing a capture there before. Anyway, according to these directions should be into the park, then across the Serpentine and the house will be on the right. I put my phone back in my pocket. It’s nice to be out in the daylight. I hate to admit it but being in dark buildings making records of records gets tiring after a while. I hate even more that maybe Seymour was right. Maybe this will be a good experience for me. I mean I won’t actually be studying, but this job is literally to record human culture. Uni culture counts, right? But I am about to have the whole experience, and that’s a scary thought. I cross the A315 and pull out my phone again as I enter the greenspace.

So, according to this email, I will be an anthropology student (makes sense) living in Stone Hall. Today is the welcome mixer when all of the residents will be arriving (not sure how I feel about that) so it’s recommended I attend. I will most likely have a roommate who may or may not be a therian, but the head of the house is a therian so maybe I should talk to him as soon as I can to get some more info. Right, so we’re across the Serpentine, where is this house? All I see are a… oh. It’s hidden, but there is a path through the trees. Now that I’ve noticed it though, it’s the most obvious thing in the world, which means the house must be using one of the Institute’s perception filters to keep the public away. I start up the path. Perception filter or not, it looks like it’s surrounded by trees on all sides. Probably can’t even see the house at all from the tourist walking paths. Maybe the outside lights, but people probably wouldn’t think too much about those.

Oh! The house is… Victorian Gothic by the looks: it’s got the steepled roofs and the towers and the arches just from what I can see. Not sure how this would come to be part of the Institute, but then as I walk closer I see the Tudor Rose emblem above the entrance, removing any doubt. I walk up to the door and knock, doesn’t look like it has a bell or anything. After a moment a mountain of a human opens the door. He’s slightly shorter than me, but he is a tank. Bald with olive skin and a pointed black goatee, he’s wearing a sleeveless grey shirt and black shorts, both of which look like they’re a size too small because the smallest bit of his belly is showing at the base of his shirt and both cling to his body like paint, displaying… every… muscle. I quickly realise my gaze has shifted too far down and correct it back to his face.

“Ah! Ye must be Raphael, aye? Yer the last tae arrive,” he says. He grabs my shoulder and moves me inward, closing the door behind me. “Nae luggage?” I’m still in shock so it takes me a moment to realise that he even asked me a question.

“Ah, no, coming later,” I say.

“Well head on intae the lounge, mate, we’ll sort ye out wi’ yer new housemates.” To the right where he directs me is a nice old-looking lounge, with some sporadic modern updates.

There is a small crowd: six guys who look about my age, and I guess the parents of two of them. A few of the guys who I assume are my housemates seem to be nervous too at least, so there’s that. One wisp of a boy is sitting on one of the ivory-upholstered sofas (it looks like an antique, but surely it’s just a repro). He’s got dark blonde hair, very tidy with a side part, and kinda pale skin. He’s thin, but he also looks fit. He’s got a grey hoodie on that looks like it’s got the Tudor Rose symbol on it (surely he’s too young to be the head of the house?) and tidy blue trousers. The guy he’s talking to is taller and also blonde, and definitely more muscular. Probably medium-length hair ‘cause it’s tied in a small, tight bun, and he’s got this diamond sleeve tattoo on his left arm. He’s wearing a dark shirt and jeans. Seems a lot more mature. Who I assume are the parents of one of them are standing nearby, chatting amongst themselves. The father is wearing a dark suit (kinda formal for this, right?) with a yellow shirt and glasses. The mother is wearing a white blouse with a black skirt and matching scarf and seems to be trying very hard to keep from crying. If I were to guess, I’d say they’re the parents of the littler guy.

Meanwhile on the opposite side of the room two guys are playing table football. One of them, dark skin, short-cropped hair, and very intense dark eyes is playing the game like a tactical master. He’s wearing a dark blue sweater-vest on top of a white button-down shirt and khaki trousers. Behind him is, I assume, his father: the same short-cropped hair and a goatee, glasses, even the same wardrobe just the sweater-vest is pale instead of dark. His opponent looks more relaxed, but no less serious. Ruddy skin due to lots of freckles, and with a mess of reddish-brown hair. He’s wearing a black leather-looking jacket over a white shirt and dark jeans, and he’s got those black disc earrings in his ears (I forget what they’re called). Nearby to them is I assume the mother chatting with another lad. The mother has the same kind of short-cropped hair, but greying a bit, is wearing large hoop earrings, and a blue dress. The lad, who looks like he’s trying to be very convincing about something and failing, is shorter than me for sure. Pale-ish skin and kind of wild brown hair. He’s wearing a dark hoodie and scuffed up jeans with a chain that hangs from his pocket to one of his beltloops. He looks familiar for some reason.

The last of the bunch is standing in between the windows and the bar (why does this house have a bar?) looking way too intense. He’s about as tall as me, tan skin, very tidy black hair, and he’s wearing a vest. A vest. A proper black vest and black trousers over a plum shirt and dark red tie. Trying too hard if you ask me. The tank of a lad who greeted me at the door walks past and up to the guy chatting with the mother of the table football player, grabbing his elbow and saying something to him I can’t hear. The smaller lad excuses himself from the previous conversation and walks over to the windows at the front of the room.

“Pardon me! Could I get yer attention please!” he says, surprisingly commanding voice for such a small frame. I swear that voice sounds familiar too, why can’t I place it? I mean I know it’s Yorkshire-adjacent, but it’s someone I… think I know, maybe. “I wanna thank all of ya, especially th’ guardians who could make it, fer comin’ to our welcome mixer. And welcome to Stone Hall! We’re one of th’ older houses on campus so don’t mind if things creak a bit, though we do have some new upgrades. Me name’s Dexter Mikhail and I’m yer RA.” _ (I was a gleaner with a Mikhail, but his name wasn’t Dexter it was…) _ “Ya can just call me Dex if ya want. Now that everyone’s here, I’m gonna take ya on a short tour of th’ house, introduce ya to yer housemates, and then we can get back to th’ festivities. First off we have our lovely lounge which all of ya have been enjoin’ so far. The fireplace is gas-burning so do be mindful of that, and we don’t provide alcohol for th’ bar.” He forces a chuckle, and the dads laugh along. “Across th’ foyer we have th’ kitchen.” He heads out from the lounge, across the entry, and into said kitchen. The cabinets are a bit worn but the appliances look new and there are two fridges.

“Right then, obviously all of th’ appliances are fer th’ house to use, fer those of ya who’ll be cookin’ fer yerselfs. We’ve got a full house this term so each of yer’ll get about one shelf each for th’ fridges so be mindful about your housemates. And make sure to clean up after yerselves, I’m not yer dad, remember that.” He forces another chuckle and the parents dutifully laugh along. “Through the conservatory yer’ll find tha back garden, set up to be a right nice space in where ya can relax outside away from the regular park visitors.” He walks through a door out the back of the house. It’s a bit sparse, but there are a few chairs surrounding a firepit and an outdoor bar. Honestly not bad, just a nice little gated-in outdoor space. We head back inside through the lounge area and back into the foyer.

“This door right here directly under th’ stairs is th’ laundry.” The door has a big no entry sign on it, I suppose more for visitors to the house rather than the residents. “We only have th’ one pair of machines so do be mindful of that. And next to that is my room.” The door has a little whiteboard on it with a doodle of a ferret dressed like Dexter (or Dex, I guess), as well as some pamphlets about various student resources. “If ya needs me for aught, and I’m not out in th’ lounge, I am available here. I’ll also give each of ya my contact info at th’ end o’ th’ mixer. Now, let’s head upstairs.” He walks through the crowd to the stairs the curve up around the foyer. “First door here with th’ shell on it is th’ bathroom. Aye, just the one, so again, be mindful of yer housemates. These other three’re yer bedrooms.” He continues to walk around the wrap-around landing to a pair of glass doors that overlook the entrance, opening onto a small balcony. “We have a balcony here for yer use but remember that Hyde Park is a public space and while it might not be directly visible from the park at large, I cannot guarantee yer privacy right here.” It might just be my imagination, but he seems to have shot a disparaging look at the guy who greeted me at the door.

“Right then, if we can all head back to th’ lounge, I’ve got a few other things to go over, includin’ room assignments.” We all head back in and down into the lounge where Dex resumes his place at the front of the room. “Again, I’d like to say welcome to Stone Hall. I hope yer time here will be fulfillin’ and enrichin’, and th’ friendships ya form lastin’.” He takes a deep breath. “Me main focus in this house is to ensure it’s a welcomin’ and secure space fer everyone. In that spirit I’d like to introduce ya to me partner Serge who lodges with me in th’ RA suite.” The buff guy steps forward to stand next to Dexter. “If any of ya has any concerns with this arrangement, please let it be known now so we can sort out lodgin’ that might fit yer needs better.” Not one word, not one sound is heard, like the Earth is holding its breath. “Right grand. Now let’s get on with introductions to yer housemates, yer room assignments, and then we can get back to festivities. First up we have Carter Fargo. Would ya care to introduce yerself? Where yer from? A few words about yerself?” The tactical table football master sheepishly waves his hand.

“Yo, I’m Carter, I’m from Camden, and I really think this place is gonna be great bruv, really looking forward to it,” he says. He looks genuinely happy to be here and I envy that a little, maybe.

“Next in line we have Blake Lieber.” The lad in the almost suit takes a step forward.

“Hi, I’m Blake, I’m from Cardiff, lookin’ forward to a productive term.” The accent is a bit thick but not hard to understand. He’s definitely very… focused.

“Followin’ that we have Puck Kepler.” The wisp of a lad steps forward boisterously.

“Ehup lads, I’m Puck, from Newcastle, right chuffed to be here wi’ yous all and make some new mates!” He’s got a surprisingly deep voice for his size.

“Next we have Tobias Barlowe.” The lad with the red-brown hair raises his hand a bit.

“Ere, call me Toby, nice to be 'ere.” Seems nervous like me. “I’m from Watford, hope to make some good memories while I'm 'ere.”

“And Lazuli Wayneright is up next.” The buffer blonde with the sleeve tattoo steps up.

“Ah, hey, yeah Lazuli, I’m from New York in America so this is a big step for me. I’m hoping to learn a lot here, especially about myself.”

“And last but not least we have Raphael Valentine.” I watched the whole of the presentation, but I’m still caught out. Maybe honesty would be the best here?

“A-hi, I’m Raphael, and it’s nice to meet all of you, sorry, I’m just really nervous about all of this.” I feel my spirit leaving my body. I want to be dead right now. “I’m from London and I guess I’m hoping to learn a lot about myself too.”

“Big thanks to all th’ lads fer introducing themselves. There’ll be plenty of time fer ya to really get to know each other over th’ term and I hope it’ll be smooth sailin’. Now fer the room assignments. Room one’ll be Carter and Puck, room two’ll be fer Blake and Toby, an’ room three is fer Lazuli and Raphael. I’ve got yer keys here, big one is fer th’ outer door and th’ smaller one is fer yer room door. Please come collect them.” I shuffle up with the other lads to collect my keys and move back towards the sitting area, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from the sofa that Lazuli and Puck were talking on earlier, staring at the floor, trying to calm my nerves and collect my thoughts. I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Raphael? Could I have a word with ya?” It’s Dex, the RA.

“Ah, yeah, sure thing.” I get up and follow him to his room. He closes the door behind us.

“Take it easy, yer among friends,” he says, leading me into the room proper, motioning for me to sit on the loveseat. Before I can open my mouth to ask anything, he stands upright, hand straight across his chest, fingertips over his heart. The Institute salute. So that’s what he meant. And the email did say the head of the house was a therian.

“Yer late admission did give me a bit of a headache, but I’m glad yer here,” he says. He places his hand up to his face, fingers on his forehead, and pulls the area around his eyes away, his mask. In a shower of blue sparks his human disguise fizzles away, revealing the Stoat for who he really is. Almond fur with a swathe of ivory painted down from his chin, he’s got short round ears and a tail that stretches down to just below his knees, looking like it’s been dipped in ink. His honeyed eyes, now that they’re not hidden by the mask, shine bright. I thought that he looked familiar!

“Wow! I haven’t seen you since…”

“Captain Nero’s CQC class when we both became gleaners.” He laughs a little and takes a seat on an enormous beanbag chair. “Tha’ was what, five years ago?”

“Ah, yeah, about. I thought the disguise looked familiar, but I didn’t know you’d changed your name.”

“Aye, after some… bullshite over th’ past couple years I wanted to really start fresh. So, what are ya doing here? Ya didn’t quit the Archive, did ya?”

“No! I mean, no, I’m on assignment here actually. A new mental thing assigned by WK to collect ‘human culture.’”

“That’s… right strange. So, ya picked me territory to do it in, then?” He laughs again.

“I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t even know this place existed until a month ago! Wait, so are you not still a gleaner? What’s with the RA business?”

“Nay, not no more. Got reassigned to herald when I became RA here. Tryin’ to teach humans to be open-minded and kind to others is a job in its own right. It’s a small reach I’ve got here, but it’s mine and I love th’ work”.

“So that Serge is he…?”

“Do ya remember that Leopard Seal gleaner lad I fancied when we were at Central? He was there th’ day of our graduation? He’s the one. He got sent off to Belfast, my assignment were up near Sheffield and we… drifted apart. Didn’t lay eyes on each other fer years then all of a sudden reconnected by chance at a Darkness concert down in Brighton. Found out we were both back in th’ area and things just sorta… went from there. We’ve been together solid fer almost two years now.”

“Wait, so by ‘partner’ you meant…?”

“Well not officially, no. It seems to be easier with folks than sayin’ ‘boyfriend’ I reckon’, but we are together, and he does live here with me. I don’t remember if ya were ever much into sport, but he’s captain of th’ school’s football club. And he’s studying sports medicine, though at a rather leisurely pace.”

“I didn’t know him as well as you, obviously, but I do remember him being a bit lazy. I guess he still is?”

“A bit of both ya might say. Th’ things he’s passionate about, he shines in, but I don’t reckon th’ university life suits him that well, if ya know what I mean.”

“Is he still a gleaner?”

“Nay, not really no more. He’s still attached to th’ Archive, and ‘cause of his training he still gets the odd requisition, but mostly he’s an NCO now, lending a hand with gleaner onboarding. Honestly…” He leans forward, lacing his fingers together and looking at the floor. “I reckon he’d be more content just bein’ an athlete. I’m concerned that he’s sticking around here ‘cause of this house, ‘cause of me.” I wish I knew what to say. There were four of us in our cohort, but Serge was never far away. For almost a year we trained together. I still remember the SERE exam. Well… exams plural. Dexter, or… (well I guess Dexter is his name now, no need to muddle about it) and I both got our arses handed to us the first time. Had to take the course again, but we got it the second time. Serge was so happy.

“Do you remember our SERE exam?” He seems to snap out of his reverie.

“Aye, which one?” He laughs a bit, but there’s no heart in it. Yeah, he remembers.

“The second one, where you and me and Sam passed, and after we had that big party? I remember how proud Serge was of you.” (Where was I even going with this?) “I don’t really know your relationship, but I think if he was unhappy, he’d tell you.”

“Aye, true.” He takes a moment and then nods some secret confirmation to himself. “What happened to Sam by the way?”

“Last I heard from him he was stationed in Switzerland. That was a few months ago though.”

“I should definitely give him a shout. Maybe all of us can get together when he’s back in th’ country.” With a swift movement his replaces his mask over his eyes, form shifting back to that of the human with the pale skin with the wild brown hair. “We’ll have a proper catch-up soon, the three of us. What I actually wanted to talk to ya about was yer roomie Lazuli.”

“What about him?”

“So, th’ house is full this term, six lads, and half of ‘em are humans. Unfortunately, ‘cause you were th’ last to be assigned to th’ house that means ya have a human roomie. I wish there was somethin’ I could do, but this house really is th’ safest spot fer therians livin’ on campus, and I won’t deny human residents either. The last RA were human when I were a resident here, so we’ve always been blended, but I wanted to let ya know that you should be careful. Me job as a herald is to help the humans accept us, and there’s some value in showin’ ‘em that we’ve been with them. I reckon it’s not that different from coming out of th’ closet. Not really a thing fer us as all therians need to be male ‘cause of the genetic conditioning, but for humans it’s still a bit of an issue even in these times. I reckon what I’m tryin’ to say is… Lazuli is here discoverin’ himself. You and me, we live in two worlds. He’s just figurin’ out that he might be doin’ that too in a way. So I guess just keep that in mind, right?”

I think I understand, but honestly I’m still trying to piece together not only am I going to be living with humans (which I guess was the point from go) but also reconnecting with one of the guys I became a gleaner with. He was a brother, my friend, and now he’s no longer a gleaner but a herald. It’s only been a few years, but I guess time moves fastest when you’re not looking.

“Yeah, I understand,” I say, still mulling about things.

“Right, sounds good!” says Dex, standing. “Like I said we’ll have a proper catch-up later. Fer now, I’ve got a house to tend to, and yer’ve got a roomie to get to know. Oh, one other thing. ‘Cause he’s an international student, he got here early so he’s been settled in fer a bit. I doubt there’ll be a problem, but if he’s takin’ up more space than he should just let me know. Otherwise, he’s a sound lad, not too different from Sam actually. I’m sure ya two could become friends with ease.” I follow him back out to the lounge. “Blake and Toby, could I have a quick word wi’ ya?” The two lads break apart from their respective conversations and head with Dex to his room. I’m guessing they’re the other two therians? Puck and Lazuli are playing table football now, the parents are chatting with each other, Carter and Serge are heading off towards the kitchen, talking animatedly about something, can’t really hear them. I guess I should try and talk to my new roommate, but I feel the best bet for my personal sanity right now might be to follow Serge.

I follow them into the kitchen, catching bits and pieces of conversation, something about Man U versus Liverpool? As they talk I just kind of hang back near the door, taking it in, not really sure what to do. Serge grabs some bottles of fruit juice and lemonade from one of the fridges and starts back towards the lounge when he notices me.

“Ah hey Raphael! Good tae lay eyes on ye!” He turns to Carter. “Would ye mind takin’ these out tae the others? Need tae have a wee chat with our tardy friend here.” He laughs, subtly shaking the room, and pawning the containers onto Carter who happily obliges. Seems much more friendly than most of the scally lads I’ve come across.

“Been a fair bit, hasn’t it?” he asks once Carter is out of earshot.

“Ah, yeah, I didn’t realise that erm, Dexter and you were together, or back together I guess, or that you were so close by!”

“Don’t be frettin’ ‘bout it lad. Been a good few years since you and Dex joined the ranks as gleaners, and now both him and meself have moved on tae other things. I ken it’s a bit of a shock. Wasn’t too long ago we were getting’ our orders in tandem, but… ye know how it goes, time and tide and all that. If I’d made more of an effort to stay in touch with him, maybe….” His eyes look almost… sad? “Ah, but here ye are now!” He grabs me into a headlock very quickly and surprisingly. Still a boisterous brute, yeah this feels familiar. “Ye’ll have tae drop by some evenin’ and regale us!”

“You got it mate,” I say, struggling to breathe a bit. He releases my neck and laughs, walking out the doorway back to the lounge. After a moment to catch my breath and check my mask (yes, still on) I follow along back to the group. Serge is pouring the bottles of juice into a punch bowl. Puck is attempting to chat up Blake (I guess his and Toby’s talk with Dex was a lot shorter than mine), he’s got so much energy, and Blake is having none of it. Toby’s taking a turn at table football against Lazuli and Carter is cheering him on. Serge walks by with four cups of punch (two in each of his meaty hands) for the parents who are still congregated near the back of the room. I really should talk to Lazuli I guess. Even though I know it’s a safe space, I’m still feeling so… uneasy?

I head over to the punch bowl and pour myself a cup, walking over to the windows and staring out at the footpath up to the house, shaded by trees. Just a few weeks ago I was in Dr. Angalis’ office about this assignment, and it feels like suddenly I’m here. I don’t know if this was the right call but…. A sudden tap on my shoulder causes me to jump.

“Hey, oh! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to come and really introduce myself, seeing as how we’ll be roommates and all.” Lazuli is about 20 centimetres shorter than me (and I’m fairly tall) now that I’m looking at him up close. His skin is warm, a little tan. Blonde hair and, now that I’m getting a proper look, definitely medium-to-long due to the being tied up in a small bun at the back of his head. He’s skinny, but fit, certainly bigger than Puck, I guess about the same as me? Maybe more, but definitely less than Serge. And he’s got that blue diamond sleeve tattoo on his left arm, sprouting from under a dark band shirt from a group I don’t recognise, and a pair of medium-blue jeans. Not the same style as Dex’s scuffed up ones, so I guess different kinds of musical tastes? Not sure why I’ve started equating jeans with music all of a sudden.

“Oh yeah, it’s fine, I was just thinking is all,” I say sticking out my hand. “Raphael, nice to meet you.”

“Lazuli, and same,” he says shaking my hand. “I guess if we wanted to be quirky it could be ‘Rafe and Laz.’” He chuckles, I force one.

“Not sure about that,” I say, seems that took the wind out of him a little bit. He goes and helps himself to a cup of punch before coming back. “So who won at table football?”

“What? Oh! Yeah, Puck is super good at it and Toby was really trying his best.” Silence, a sip.

“I hear you got here earlier than the rest of us?”

“Oh, yeah I did already decorate our room a bit, but if any of it’s too much I can take it down no worries.”

“I… “and where am I going to go with this sentence? My eyes are drawn to his shirt. “What’s the band on your shirt?”

“This? Oh, thanks, I know a little bit about screen printing, so I made it myself. It’s Passion Pit, kind of an indie band from the States, but they’ve been getting more popular and I’m excited for it! I think they even might be doing an international tour soon! I’d love to go if they’re nearby but… well I’ve got other things to focus on right now.”

“Oh cool, I’ll have to give them a listen sometime.” Even I am not sure if I’m being genuine or not anymore, what’s wrong with me? I’m in such an unusual headspace.

“I’ve got their CD if you wanna listen. I’m… kinda old school I guess.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck, I think he’s embarrassed.

“There’s nothing wrong with being old school, sometimes it’s more about the experience than the quality.” His eyes almost sparkle, I think I’ve made up for the comment about the nicknames earlier.

“Yeah, I brought my old PS2 with me. Had a hard time finding a TV for it, and a harder time bringing it back to the house on the train. Like, I know I could get an HDMI converter and just plug it into my laptop, but it’s about the experience.” I must look like my eyes have glazed over because nothing about what he just said made any sense to me. “Do you play video games? Or… what kinda stuff are you into for fun?”

“I… mostly just work really, this whole university thing is…”

“Kinda terrifying? Tell me about it. I guess at least you have the advantage of living here.”

Do I? My mind is racing trying to find an instance of when I left Central for something other than work and I can’t. Maybe this is what Seymour meant…. I’ve been among humans for years, collected cultural artefacts and experiences, but I’ve never been among humans. This is exactly what he wanted.

“Ah, yeah, I guess,” I say, still dealing with the mental shellshock. He notices.

“You okay? You seem kinda… stressed?”

“Yeah!” I say, snapping out of it. “Totally fine, I was just… well I don’t get out much I guess so I probably don’t know the city as well as you think.”

“Oh, that’s fine, Serge and Dex have shown me a lot since I’ve been here.” Not sure why but it looks like he’s blushing a bit? “I just hope we’ll be good roommates is all I guess, and hopefully friends.”

“So… tell me about the tattoo. Does it mean anything?” He holds up his left arm.

“Oh yeah, so I used to work in a restaurant when I was 16 and one of the chefs there was kinda like a dad to me. He had this same kind of tattoo so I got this to… honour him, I guess?” He’s smiling, but it’s got some pain behind it.

“Well it looks really nice.” I genuinely mean it.

“Yeah, it was a real… time of self-discovery I think. Still learning about myself today too, but it started around then I think. Eh, you said you work a lot, where do you work?”

“For the British Museum,” I say, hoping my instant panic wasn’t evident. It’s not a lie, but it’s not true either. “I assist one of the researchers there.” Again, not a lie, but not quite true.

“Wow! That sounds really cool!” He looks genuinely impressed, what have I done? “What kind of stuff do you get to do? I like museums, just never get to really go to them a lot. I’ve been to the Met maybe once.”

“Oh, mostly I’m just bringing things in, it’s not exciting.”

“Oh okay, still cool though. Um… do you wanna play foosball?” He’s pointing over his shoulder at the table football.

“What? Oh! Yeah, sure. I’ve never played so you’ll have to teach me.”

“Really? These things must be more popular in the States.” We start walking across the room and I can’t help but notice that (aside from Blake) everyone seems to be having a much easier time enjoying themselves and getting to know each other. “It’s pretty easy, so there’s the ball and you need to use the handles on your side to kick the ball into my goal. Eh, that would be the one on your right.” I grasp the two handles on my side near the middle of the table and twist them around, getting a feel for them. Seems easy enough. The table itself is pretty unassuming I suppose: black frame, handles in red and blue that match the jerseys of the little player figures. The green of the pitch is a little worn but otherwise it looks like a fairly new addition to the house. Looks like both sides have four sets of players to kick the ball with if you include the goalkeeper, not sure what the other positions are called officially but that doesn’t matter now.

“Are you ready?”

“Uh huh,” I lie. He drops the ball in the little pocket at the side that feeds it onto the table. As it rolls towards the centre of the pitch I give my left hand a twitch, gently tapping the ball across towards Lazuli’s goal. This doesn’t seem so hard. He takes his time adjusting his hands to the outer handles. I know he’s going easy on me because I don’t know how to play and on one hand I appreciate it but on the other it’s a bit condescending. While I’m too busy in my own head with this, he deftly flicks his left wrist, sending the ball whizzing to the opposite side of the table where it bounces off the wall on my goal side and starts rolling back towards the middle.

In a small panic I seize the goalkeeper handle but the ball is already too far away. I grab the second handle and try and move it to hit the ball away but instead I just hit it sideways into the side of the table where it begins to drift anaemically towards Lazuli’s middle line. With a firm twist he sends the ball back towards my goal, bouncing off the wall again before using his front-line players to kick it in before I can even really begin to parse what’s going on.

“I don’t really know if this game is for me,” I say, frustrated.

“You said it was your first time playing, right? You’re not going to be perfect at it right away,” he says. I know it’s true, and that makes it all the more annoying. I clench my teeth. Lazuli looks around a bit before waving someone over. Puck strolls over with a sly smile.

“Ya want me to give ya another thrashin’?” he asks, half laughing.

“Nah,” says Lazuli, also laughing, “I’m trying to teach Raphael how to play and since you’re better than me you can probably help him out more.”

“Ah, right, like! So ne’er had a go at it, eh? Don’t fash yerself about it, man. The way I see it, it’s a game of reaction. Ya can’t really set up shots like in proper footie, gotta just watch where the ball goes an’ go from there.”

With no hesitation suddenly his hands are on mine on the middle field handles, and short as he is he’s basically tucked himself under my arm. “So, the ball’s in play.” Lazuli drops the ball into the side basket that feeds it onto the table, and it rolls towards the centre.

“Once ya get used to the feel of the spacing of the handles it’ll get easier, like. Fer now we just want to get the ball over to the right side of the pitch, ya know?” With a gentle squeeze he manipulates my left hand, giving a firm twist to kick the ball towards Lazuli’s goal. Lazuli moves to block but it slips past his midfielders and to his defensive line. He stops it, and very gently kicks it back towards my goal.

“Right, here it comes, how do ya react?” I pull my left had towards me, moving to stop the ball and then kick it back towards Lazuli’s goal. Then, with my right hand, I manoeuvre the attacking line in and, with a firm twist (Puck’s hands still on mine) kick the ball just past the goalie and into the goal.

“Ayy! You got it!” says Puck releasing my hands and grabbing my waist. For a second I feel my heart rush, not sure if from scoring a goal or what, but it’s exciting. I clench my fists in a little victory celebration.

“Not bad,” says Lazuli, smiling. “Ready to go again?”

“Yeah, I…” and then I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. “Er hang on, sorry.” I fish my phone from my pocket, a call from Seymour. “Erm, it’s work.” I try and give as apologetic a face as I can before peeling off towards the back garden, checking to make sure there isn’t anyone else back here (everyone else still seems to be in the lounge).

“Hello Seymour,” I say, answering the call.

“Hello Raphael, how’s the mixer going?” comes Seymour’s voice over the line.

“How did you know I went?” I ask incredulously.

“I’m your mentor, I keep track of these things. Besides, one of your housemates posted a selfie, think his name is Puck? and I saw you in the background looking dour.”

“Now that’s just creepy.”

“I don’t disagree,” he laughs. “But we need to monitor social media for possible interdiction incidents. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s… actually fine. I didn’t expect to reunite with some of the old gleaners. Erm… I’m not sure who all is human yet in the house but I know my roommate is, so that’s a thing.”

“How are you feeling about that, eh?” he asks. I don’t say anything for a bit, trying to figure out how I do feel about it, trying to find the right words.

“He seems nice so far,” I settle on. “Dex seems to like him, and he know him better than I do. Not happy I’ll have to sleep in my mask though, that’s for sure.”

“That’s part of why I called. I’ve sent your belongings via Institute courier, they should be there soon, but I requisitioned you a local perception filter for that reason. You should be able to tuck it under your bed and it will let your take your mask off safely. That said, it is just a perception filter so if you ever break a person’s cognition of your disguise, it doesn’t work anymore, understood?”

“Yes. And my phone has the local interdiction protocol on it.”

“Last effort only on the interdiction, same as always.”

“Yes, I know.”

“If you have worries, confab with the RA. We have some softer methods in testing now but hopefully none of it will be necessary. I know you’re feeling apprehensive and like this is all some cruel joke, but I do honestly think this might be the best way for you to fulfil your assignment, bizarre as it is, and will be good for you besides.”

“I guess so.” I’m starting to feel frustrated with this whole situation. Deep breaths. “So, a personal filter, you think that will be enough? You’ve really made this a pain in the arse.” I’m half-joking.

“Mr. Valentine, need I remind you that you agreed to it, eh? I only suggested this as a means to fulfil the White Knight’s requisition. You seemed quite keen.” He’s right. I can only blame my own impatience for this situation I’m in. Deep breaths… again.

“Yes, I-I know. I’m not backing out, but I am… apprehensive, like you said.”

“I would be surprised if you weren’t. Raphael, I want you to hear these words very carefully: I know you can do this. This is not just coming from me as your mentor, not just because you are a gleaner, I know you can do this. It seems daunting, but you have everything you need to excel, and most of it is just you.” I hear the words, but I’m not sure if I believe them. Still, somewhere in the back in my mind it touches something, and I can feel my face, my eyes, tingling a little. Seymour has always been very up-front with me, even though he’s the head of the science division for the whole Institute. I don’t know why he took me on as a mentee, but I’ve always benefited from his words, even if they sometimes sound like they’re coming from a crazy person.

“Are you still there Raphael?” Oh, right, I’m in a call.

“Yes, sir, sorry,” I say, brain still rattled, eyes still stinging a bit. With my free hand I wipe away some moisture from just beneath my eyes.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer, I’ve got my own projects to get back to. I mostly wanted to check in and make sure you weren’t overthinking things, and now that I know you are, I hope you will stop doing that. Just live as a student, the assignment will sort itself out. Oh! Before I go, it’s Carter and Puck. Bonne chance, Raphael, I know you can do this.”

“Carter and Puck are what?!” But it’s too late, he’s already disconnected. Well since Dex only talked to me, Toby, and Blake, I assume they’re the humans. Deep breaths. I head back into the lounge. Table football seems to have concluded, the mixer in general seems to be winding down. I don’t see Puck, Toby, or Lazuli; Blake and Carter are chatting by the large windows at the front of the lounge (didn’t think those two would get on). I may as well go and take a look at my new room. Puck’s parents are having conversation with Dex in the foyer as I walk past but I don’t catch any of it. I head up the stairs, every step feeling like a new weight on my back, and I don’t know why. I suppose just the anxiety has been building all day. I put the key in the lock and turn it; the door gives way.

Lazuli isn’t in here, but his presence is known. He did say he had decorated his side of the room, and he wasn’t lying. The view immediately in front of the door is almost Dickensian in its austerity (so not too different from my flat back at Central): there is a bed with a wardrobe at the foot of it, and a desk to the left of it paired with a second one that has some papers already on it. Further to the left of the room is Lazuli’s bed, fully made with some neutral clothes. There are some dim off-white fairy lights on the wall along with some posters for things that I don’t recognise. Wait, no, one of them is that band from that shirt he’s wearing. There’s a small TV and a games console on an Ikea table next to his wardrobe which is open, I can spy a bunch of shirts in varying colours hanging up and what looks like a plain black sock sticking out of one of the three drawers at the base of it.

“Oh, hey there!” comes a sudden voice from the other side of the room. Lazuli is walking in through a large window at the far end of the room. As I step in, I see that it looks like it opens out onto the balcony above the entrance to the house. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, I was just getting some air.” He takes a seat at his desk, pushing the papers aside. He turns to face me, smiling. “I hope it’s not too much, what I’ve decorated.”

“Uh no, it’s fine. Nice actually, I don’t know what I was expecting.” I let go of the door, it swings softly closed behind me as I step up to my bed and take a seat on it. Not terrible, not too soft. There’s a silence and I don’t know if I should fill it or let it rest. My eyes wander over his half of the room, taking in the decorations.

“So those posters, one of those is the same band as your shirt, right?” I find myself asking, almost involuntarily. “Who’s the other one?” The poster is of a woman with short black hair in a spiky red dress.

“Ah yeah, the one is Passion Pit, the other is Utada, she’s a Japanese pop singer. It’s from one of her tours from a few years ago. Didn’t get to see it live, obviously, but I have the DVD and I’ve watched it maybe a dozen times.” I nod, but I don’t know that I’m really retaining anything. “What kind of music do you like?”

“I don’t know really, I guess I haven’t thought about it much.” Lazuli looks like he’s about to protest but it’s interrupted when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text from Central that my courier has arrived. “Oh, sorry, my stuff’s just got here, I should go down and bring it in.”

“Oh cool, I can help if you want!” He doesn’t wait for an answer, already out the door and headed down the stairs before I can stand up. I’m not sure what to make of him, but I’m also sure I’m not coming off the best myself either. I follow back out onto the landing. The foyer is now empty save from Lazuli and the disguised courier who seems a bit harried. Toby and Blake’s door is propped open with one of their own moving boxes, I can see Blake meticulously placing his clothing in his wardrobe while Toby seems content with… testing the bed’s structural integrity. Carter and Puck’s door is also open, the pair of them talking about some football club poster that Carter is putting up over his bed. Both sets of their parents are also in, chatting amongst themselves. Meanwhile downstairs Lazuli is trying to accept the delivery for me, I guess trying to help because he can tell how stressed I am.

“I’m sorry sir, but unless you’re ‘Raphael Valentine’ I can’t just give you his stuff,” I hear the courier say as I walk down the stairs.

“I know, but he’s my roommate, are you sure you can’t just….”

“Lazuli, it’s fine, thank you,” I say exiting the stairs unto the foyer. The courier has a screen for me to sign, and I do, and I suddenly realise I don’t know what at all Seymour might have sent. It’s not like I had any memorabilia or anything like Lazuli does, so I suppose it’s just my clothing, but I didn’t think I had that much. There are three boxes in total: one large one (about half my height) with the word ‘wardrobe’ and some arrows pointing upward printed on it, a medium one stamped ‘fragile’ and a second medium sized box not marked at all.

“Have a good rest of your day, sir,” says the courier. His right hand instinctively starts to move up to cross his chest, but then he recognises that maybe Lazuli isn’t a therian and stops himself, converting it into an awkward scratch. He gives a nod and heads out the door. I close it behind him and turn to take a thought about what he’s actually brought.

“Erm… well I guess since you’re offering, would you mind taking one of these up to our room?” I ask Lazuli, feeling the weight of ‘our room’ settling into my chest.

“Yeah, no problem,” he says, grabbing the unmarked box and heading up the stairs. It seems to be fairly light based on his ease of carrying it. Completely baffled by what might be in the ‘fragile’ box, I pick it up. It’s heavier than I was expecting, but not much more than five kilos maybe. I head towards the stairs, passing Lazuli at the top of the landing as he heads back down to grab the other box (I assume). Might as well open these, so I start with the one Lazuli brought up. I slide my fingers into the gap below the flap and slice the tape with my fingernails. At the top are a few folded t-shirts, slacks, jeans, pants (my face heats up a little at those) and underneath those is a set of new bedclothes in a light grey colour that look like they should fit my bed here. At the very bottom is a shoe box, I suppose a joke from Seymour since I made that crack about a farrier the other day (though I can’t imagine he would have packed up my stuff personally, right?). The box contains actual shoes though, formal-looking ones, shiny and black.

“Oh those are sharp,” I hear from over my left shoulder as Lazuli re-enters with the wardrobe box and sets it down.

“Ah, yeah, thanks,” I say. “Formal occasions only.” I put them back in the box and shove it away. May as well just deal with the rest of the clothes then. I open the wardrobe box and it’s my few collared shirts, as well as my Institute uniforms, which I am more confused why he would send those.

“Wow, those are really nice! What are those for?” My entire brain locks up, I can’t think of a single convincing lie. “The blue one looks familiar, but I don’t know why.” Lazuli seems to think for a moment, then shakes his head. “Eh, I’m gonna grab a shower, let you sort all this out in peace.” He walks over to his wardrobe, lacing the fingers of his right hand into the small bun at the back of his head and prises the band loose, waves of amber light falling past his ears and gently brushing his neck. He opens his wardrobe before peeling off his shirt, ivory skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. His body is taught, defined, yet slender. The muscles at the top his back form a kind of mirrored half-heart shape, and below a gently curving v dipping from his sides down into his belt. He grabs a towel from within, draping it over his shoulders, and a tote from on top containing some bottles and turns to head out into the hallway. His collarbone is pronounced, sitting a diadem atop toned pecs. The faint lines of muscled abs give way to deep v muscles that vanish below the waistline of his jeans, a dusting of dirty blond hair stretching down from his naval. As he passes by, I get a better look at the tattoo on his left arm, interconnected diamond patterns in azure ink that wave across the gently defined muscles. It really does suit him. What am I thinking?! I shake my head and haphazardly shove my shirts onto the hanging bar in the wardrobe, shuffling t-shirts, jeans, and other stuff into the drawers below. The box of shoes I give an unceremonious drop onto the flat surface above the drawers.

Just the ‘fragile’ box left, and unless a local perception filter weighs five kilos and is the size of a small table, there’s more in here. I take a seat on the bed and tear open the flaps of the box. At the top is an envelope with my name written on it. I take it out and set it beside me. Below that is a small disc about the size of a £2 coin. It’s metal, cool to the touch, with the text “EIASRLPF Model 01.04, Effective Range 1.5m” engraved on one side and a thin toggle switch. This must be the filter Seymour mentioned. Looks simple enough. I click the switch ‘on’ and an almost imperceptible subsonic wave radiates out of the disc, forming a shell that should hold my cognitive disguise in place. After a moment the already almost invisible field disappears completely. There’s a loud thud from another room, sounds like someone probably dropped something while moving some furniture around. I duck down and tuck the disc between the leg of the bed and the desk next to it. That should give me a little bit more space in the room and be out of sight so Lazuli or anyone won’t pick it up.

Further down the box is a backpack. It looks new, and rugged, made of some sort of waterproof canvas. It’s a verdigris green with a flap at the top held closed with a clasp. I open it and am surprised to find my field kit stuff inside: first aid kit, camera and lenses, notebooks, pens, power bank, water bottle, it’s all here! And a new laptop too, with the Institute Tudor Rose engraved on the lid. I gently set it all out on my desk, equal parts impressed that Seymour got my stuff and a little creeped out that he went through my stuff.

I turn back to the box and take a seat on the floor next to it. Just one thing left and it’s the weatherproof case containing my drone kit that I use for remote video capture. I take the case out and set it on my bed next to the letter before switching task to breaking down the empty cardboard boxes. I’ve just dug my fingers under the tape when there’s a knock at the open door (looks like Lazuli propped it open with a shoe when he left). Dex looks in, face in a slight scowl.

“Could I have a word?” he asks, a lot more serious than he was half an hour ago. I feel a pinch in the pit of my stomach.

“Yeah, Lazuli is in the shower I think,” I reply, putting the box down. Dex quickly and gently moves Lazuli’s shoe out of the way and closes the door behind him.

“Were ya given’ a personal perception filter for yer stay here?” His eyes are dark and stern, carrying none of the brightness they had during the mixer. The pinch in my stomach turns into a churn.

“Yes…. I-It arrived with my stuff just now and I-I uh…”

“And ya turned it on. That explains things a bit.” He runs an open palm down the front of his face. “I wish I’d known, we coulda done it proper. It’s not yer fault, ya didn’ know, but ya’ve just given our remainin’ guests a bit of a vertigo trip. Not to mention yer human housemates.”

“I-I….” I can’t manage more than that. I’m sitting here looking at this guy I went through training with, two hells of SERE exams; sure he might be a couple years older than me but he’s my peer, my friend, and he’s talking to me like I imagine a disappointed dad would. The churn in my stomach rises to my chest, I can feel my throat tightening, my cheeks tingling slightly. There’s another knock at the door. Dex opens it, Lazuli is standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist, skin slightly damp and sparkling in the amber light.

“Sorry I guess I forgot to… oh! Dex! Hi! Could I just… sneak past you real quick?” He gently manoeuvres past the RA and over to his side of the room, setting his shower basket and old clothes at the foot of his bed. “Everything good?”

“No worries lad, I was just checkin’ in, makin’ sure all his things got here safe and sound,” says Dex, snapped back into his RA mode. “I’ll leave ya lads to it then.” He steps out, the door gently swinging closed behind him. I take a deep breath (trying to not be obvious about it) and busy myself with tearing down the cardboard boxes again. I’m trying, trying to not spiral about what just happened, how different Dex seemed from when I knew him last back when we were both at the Archive. Trying to convince myself that I’m just overthinking it. I haven’t seen him in a few years, and I’ve spent maybe a total of 15 minutes today talking with him; that isn’t enough time to really reconnect. Plus, I’m sure he’s been stressed too about all the RA stuff (though he’s been doing a great job at not showing it). Still, I wish I knew what I did wrong….

I gather up all the broken-down boxes and head out, down the stairs. Carter and Puck and their families are all talking about where they’re going to go to dinner as they head out the front door. Blake and Toby follow them out a short distance behind. No one’s acting like there’s anything wrong. I head through the kitchen and conservatory to the back garden where I spied the bins earlier on the tour. On the opposite side of garden I see Dex talking on his phone. I can’t make out what he’s saying but he doesn’t sound too pleased, so I just quietly as I can put the cardboard in the recycling and go back inside. Everyone seemed fine…. I walk back up the stairs, our door slightly ajar still.

I push it open and look to my left, getting a full view of Lazuli’s bare bottom as he stands in front of his wardrobe picking out fresh clothes. I quickly divert my gaze to straight in front of me, face burning as I push the door closed. The sound of the door closing makes Lazuli jump slightly and he very quickly selects some grey-striped loungewear and puts them on, not acknowledging my presence. That suits me just fine as I pretend that I didn’t see anything, instead walking up to my bed, back towards him, and picking up the letter that was at the top of the box. Who even writes letters anymore? It’s probably from Seymour.

Raphael,

I know this is going to be a challenging experience for you but, as I’m sure I just told you personally, I know you can do this.

I’ve taken the liberty of collecting your field kit, as well as an omni-capture drone set, and included them alongside the local perception filter and a couple gifts from myself, so that whether the challenge is Archival or scholastic, you’ll be equipped to face them head-on.

Do your best in your studies but do even better in making interpersonal connections. That is what is really going to serve you going forward.

If you need anything at all, you know where to find me.

Always, your mentor and friend,

Dr. Seymour Angalis

P.S. The local perception filter might cause a kind of feedback from the larger one installed at Stone Hall, so be sure to talk to the RA before you turn it on. If, however, you turned it on before you read this, as I suspect you might have, you won’t have caused any lasting harm, just some dizziness and very temporary amnesia about the house’s location, all easily remedied.

Fuck you old man. I sigh internally, well most of the letter was really nice, I just wish I’d known that last bit sooner. That’s my own impatience again. At least now I understand why Dex was upset with me. I should probably go apologise…. I stand for a minute, debating. Yes, I decide. I head back out the door and down the stairs, letter still in hand. All the other doors in the hall are closed, their occupants gone for the time being. Dex and Serge are in the lounge, cleaning up from the mixer.

“H-hey, Dex? Could I talk to you a second?” Seems like I still haven’t found my voice again yet.

“Course, if ya lends a hand.” He nods towards the left behind drink cups and bottles that made up the punch. I stuff the letter in my pocket and move over to the bar area, gathering up the empty disposable cups and putting them into the bin bag he’s holding. Serge takes the punch bowl and walks away towards the kitchen.

“I… I wanted to apologise for earlier, about the perception filter. I didn’t know that it was going to do that and Seymour, er Dr. Angalis, wrote me a note that said not to turn it on right away but I didn’t read it till after and then you were all mad at me and…”

“Ey, it’s alright. I didn’t handle it too well meself. I were in a bit of a panic when everyone started goin’ dizzy all of a sudden. I had a feelin’ that might’ve been th’ cause, but I weren’t sure. Folks seemed okay after a couple minutes, even rang up Medical after I’d spoke to ya. They assured me everything’d be fine, no lastin’ harm. So… I forgive ya, an’ I’m sorry too.” I release my breath; didn’t even know I’d been holding it. We finish cleaning up the rubbish and I volunteer to take the bag out to the bins.

“I just want ya to know, I am still yer friend,” says Dex when I walk back into the kitchen. “Aye, I might be yer RA an’ all, but that don’t change owt so don’t be worryin’ about that. We’ll have a proper catch-up later, once things settle down a bit, right?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.” I head out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, feeling much better now that that’s all dealt with. Back up in the room Lazuli is sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, laptop in his lap. He hasn’t put on a shirt, so I guess that’s just how that’s going to be. Not that he’s unattractive, mind, just… human. Bed… right, bedclothes, there were some somewhere. After finding the package under my bed (must have accidentally shoved them under when I was unpacking), I open them up and put them on the bed, struggling a bit with the fitted sheet. It isn’t until I’m left with just the pillowcases that I realise a problem.

“No pillow?” asks Lazuli, looking up from his computer.

“Er… no, doesn’t look like it. Must have forgotten,” I reply, looking down at my bed and feeling a kind of kinship with how unkempt it is (even though I’ve just done it up) and the overall feel of the day. I hear movement behind me.

“Here,” says Lazuli. I turn and he’s standing a short distance away, one of his pillows in hand, outstretched.

“Thanks… but I couldn’t….” My heart is beating faster than I’d like.

“It’s clean. Well clean-ish. And it’s just for tonight. We can go to M&S tomorrow, I want to get a quilt anyway.” I stare at the pillow in his hand.

“Y-yes. Yeah, thanks,” I stammer, taking the pillow and putting it on my bed. I scowl at the sheets, deciding that no, instead I don’t like how messy they are, and work to try and straighten them out.

“So… are you into photography?” What? I look over my shoulder to see him looking at the camera on my desk.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess you could say that. It’s mostly for work.”

“At the museum? That’s pretty cool.” He walks back over to his bed and takes a seat. Once I finish fussing with the sheet I take a look around. I take the drone case and slide it under my bed, and that looks like everything that was sent over. I sit on my own bed, posture mirroring that of Lazuli’s. I take a deep breath and look around. So that’s it. Here I am, at Stone Hall, living with humans. It isn’t panic, but it’s something on the way to panic, and I can feel it tingling at the back of my neck, in my chest, in my stomach.

“Hey, uh…,” I hear Lazuli say. “Not sure where everyone else went but I was thinking about just ordering in dinner. Did you want something? My treat!” The not-panic fades and mixes with a rising heat in my face again, a gentle stinging in my eyes. I think maybe the stress of the day was finally about to come to a head, but instead it’s become something else. I quickly busy myself with the stuff on my desk that’s in reach.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, arranging the pens and notebooks.

“I know but… well I know my first day here was stressful, like really stressful. I’d just gotten off a plane and I didn’t know anyone here, but Serge and Dex helped me out, so I just… guess I wanted to do that for you… I guess…. Carter and Puck had their folks here. Blake and Toby… well I don’t know about them but seeing as it’s just us here now I… wanted to make the offer. I feel like we got a weird start earlier, so I guess maybe this is my way of saying ‘sorry’ if I made you feel awkward.” I take a breath, feigning an itch on my forehead to mask quickly drying my cheeks.

“I…” and he is sitting on his bed in just the pair of grey striped lounge pants, hair still damply clinging to the sides of his face, shirtless skin air-drying our room. I don’t know what it is, but I feel this lump clogging the bottom of my throat. “I would appreciate that, very much.”