Stone Hall / Spring Rolls

—Lazuli—

I still can’t believe I got in at an overseas school, that I’m literally standing in another city halfway across the freakin’ world! It’s a dream, something I really need, to just get away from everything back home and really have a chance to be me, to figure myself out. That’s what college is supposed to be, right? And how many kids from New York get to do that in freakin’ London? This place always looks so cool in the movies. Eh, but so does New York… bad example. But this isn’t with my aunt in New York, this isn’t with my dad in Eugene, this is just me in London, something that is all mine.

The past few years have been rough. Mom in rehab and then… and dad always putting his teaching job ahead of me, his only son. Having to bounce back-and-forth between the east and west coast while he and my aunt got the estate stuff together. At least I got to stay at my aunt’s place in the city while I finished high school and she was out in Martha’s Vineyard. Living on my own, working, studying since 16, it’s been a lot, and now I’m doing this and I still can’t believe it. Dad would say it’s the legacy of the Wayneright name, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t mean anything near to what he thinks it does. Even if it did, I hope that’s not why either. I want, I need this to be all mine.

I didn’t have much stuff (at least I didn’t think so originally, it’s wacky how stuff just accumulates when you’re not paying attention) but after hours of going through it, packing up what I needed, selling what I didn’t (who invented Facebook marketplace? So frustrating), dealing with international shipping, waiting in airport terminals, flying across the Atlantic, arriving at Heathrow (and immediately feeling like a country bumpkin), I at least know where I’m putting my feet up tonight. Or maybe sooner, I am so tired and I can never sleep on planes no matter what. It was a little bit of a struggle figuring out where to stay but I managed to get a spot in one of the campus houses. I guess it’s not really a common thing here. I was thinking it might be something like a frat house ‘cause one of the reviews from a former student called it “Animal House” but I don’t know that the whole Greek life thing exists here like it does in the States. It doesn’t look anything like the house from the movie either (and I would know, that piece of trivia comes up way too often when people find out that you’ve lived in Eugene). Still, that stuck with me I guess, something under the skin that said this should be the place I should try and get into, and either way it was well rated as a place to live at Briar Rose. Seemed cheaper than staying in the dorms too.

I can maybe see why. It’s an old house. Big, two stories that I can see, lots of pointy bits (I think that’s Gothic?). The front of the house looks sort of like a shallow “V” with the walls moving back from the front doors and ending in two large towers, for lack of a better word. The entrance is big: double doors with old looking windows in a diamond pattern that stop about halfway down. Some arches span the posts on the wide porch and it looks like there might be a balcony or something above it, I think I see one of those old weird rubbery plastic adjustable deck chairs that the ratchet always breaks on so the back can’t stay up right. The windows on the tower on the right have open curtains in them and if I tilt my head in a certain way, I can just catch a glimpse of some furniture in a large room inside. The curtains on the windows on the left tower are pulled closed. All the windows apart from those on the door look narrow. Don’t know if they open or not, and I guess I didn’t think too much about what the weather might be like here (I hope my clothes will be alright, not too much difference from New York to London, right?). Overall the house is a mix of stone and brick and wood; looks rough, but maybe something a good power washing would help fix. As I look over the front of the house my eyes catch on a stone decoration hanging at the front of the porch over the steps. An emblem of some sort, some kind of flower? It feels familiar but I can’t place it. Anyways, I’m sure this place will be fine, can’t wait to see my room and get some sleep.

I should probably let my dad and aunt know I got here though, maybe send a selfie to my dad with the ‘animal house,’ see if it gets a reaction. A quick snap and… yeah, that’s fine, send. Maybe I should call him too…. My thumb slides through my contacts, bittersweet memories of friends now left behind, but this is a thing I needed to do for myself. It settles on ‘Dad’ and I press call. Straight to voicemail.

“Hey dad, just wanted to let you know I landed fine and I’m at the house now. It’s… shit, sorry guess it’s 4 am for you, just wanted to let you know everything was okay. Love you.” Alright, enough stalling, need to get inside and settled with what I could bring with me. The room should be furnished at least, I remember reading that.

I walk up the stairs to the wide doors and stop, not sure if I should knock or just go in. I raise my hand, decided on the former when it suddenly swings open, creaking a bit.

“Ah! Ehup, ya must be… Arthur?” He looks about my age, maybe a little older, and a little shorter. He’s got some crazy brown hair and looks really pale, like I did back in middle school. He’s wearing torn up jeans, big black and white sneakers, and a blue hoodie with a bunch of patches sewn on it like someone who just learned about American 90’s fashion. Don’t think he’s wearing a shirt under it either. His eyes are like warm honey and I can’t help but feel a sense of kindness despite the punk appearance. Not sure what the accent is, maybe I should have looked for some YouTube videos to try and learn. Sounds friendly enough though. He pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket and quickly thumbs the screen.

“Accommodation Office sent me a text sayin’ yer flight’d landed. Arthur… Wayneright, right?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.” I realise my hand is still raised to knock on the door, so I quickly open it and give a little wave. I can feel my face starting to burn with embarrassment at that. He laughs a little.

“Nowt fret, ya must be knackered, let’s get ya inside.” He steps back, giving space in the doorway. I pick up my suitcase, really the only of my possessions I brought on the plane, and step inside. He closes the door behind me. Through a second set of double doors (these where the diamond windows go all the way down), the foyer is wide open and surprisingly bright despite the dark wood floor. Directly across from the entrance, a staircase sweeps left up the wall to the second floor, wrapping around to a landing that curves back around above the front doors. The wall under the stairs is clad in wood panelling, but the rest of the room has a kind of rust-coloured wallpaper on the first and ivory on the second floor. There are a few doors on the left side of the floor, one under the stairs that has a “NO ENTRY” sign on it. A door to the left of that one has one of those miniature whiteboards on it with a doodle of a ferret (I think?) wearing punk rocker clothes (It’s kinda cute, I wonder if this guy drew it). To the left of that is an open doorway that looks like it goes to a kitchen. To the right is a big open space with lots of chairs, a wood-clad fireplace, and is that a bar? That must be the room I could see from outside. The living room has mossy wallpaper and exposed beams, old-looking ceiling lamps casting an amber glow drowned by the light from the bank of windows that wrap around the front of the tower.

“Is that all yer stuff?” He closes the inner doors, the blend of latticework casting interesting shadows on the walls and floor.

“Ah, yeah what I could bring on the plane. I shipped some stuff but I don’t think it’ll get here till next week.”

“It oughtn’t be an issue then.” He nods. “Erm, well, welcome to Stone Hall. We’re one of the older houses on campus so don’t mind if things creak a bit. I’m Dexter, yer RA.” He tucks his phone back into his hoodie pocket and sticks out his hand. I set my bag down, take his hand, and give it a firm shake. “Most of the lads just call me ‘Dex’ but I’ll answer to whatever. Let me give ya the quick tour. Yer the first to arrive, obviously, most of the others won’t get here until end of next week when we have our mixer, so fer now it’ll just be the three of us.”

“Three?” I ask, not sure if I heard him right. I see his gaze shift left towards the living room and he quickly shakes his head. Before I can turn to look, he loops his left arm around me and spins me to face the opposite direction.

“So o’er here is th’ kitchen,” he says, leading me across the foyer into the leftmost doorway. It’s a decent size and looks like all the appliances are pretty new. There are two fridges. The back is a wall of windows and what looks like a closed-in patio or sunroom. “Conservatory out the back there, nice in the sunshine. Obviously it’s fer the whole house so clean up after yerself. Once everyone’s here there’ll be six of ya sharin’ the place so ya each get about a shelf in th’ fridge. I reckon most won’t care if ya take a bit more space but don’t be a dickhead about it. There’s also th’ campus canteen, open most days from 5 to 9 but I’m sure all that info was given to ya in yer initial letters. Plus, most of th’ colleges have a café or summat similar as well.” He guides me out of the kitchen and back to the foyer.

“This door,” he slaps his hand on the one right next to the kitchen with the whiteboard on it, “is my room so if ya need anything blah blah, honestly, I’m usually out here if I’m in house and I’ll give ya my details later on. This door is th’ laundry. There’s just the one set of machines so don’t be a proper knob about ‘em. Over here’s th’ lounge, we try and keep it right relaxed in here. Bar ain’t stocked so ya havta bring yer own. Do ya drink?”

“I… um….”

“Ah right then, American, so yer a bit young fer drinkin’ on yer own soil, but now yer on ours. Just don’t go daft, aye? The fireplace works, it’s a gas burner, be smart about it, mind.” There’s a loud thud and rattle from behind us. We both whip around to see a large guy, standing like a deer in headlights, grabbed onto the sides of a foosball table. Dex takes a deep breath and releases an exasperated sigh, walking over to the new person.

“This here,” he says, throwing his arm over the other guy’s shoulder, “is me boyfriend Serge.” He’s huge, like half a foot up on me with arms and legs like tree trunks and a core that that look like it belongs on a wrestler (which is easy to see because he’s not wearing a shirt). His skin isn’t tan, but it is darker so a European thing I guess? He’s bald with a kind of spiky black goatee. His chest has a bit of dark hair on it, trailing down and vanishing into a pair of green basketball shorts. His eyes are an intense grey, like a storm. Wait, did he say ‘boyfriend’? I feel my pulse quicken.

“He lodges with me in th’ RA suite. Aye, it’s allowed, he’s a student here too.” He says, “This house is a welcomin’ an’ secure place fer everyone,” suddenly with a much more serious tone. “I reckon that won’t be a bother?” My heart skips several beats, tripping over itself on the way to my mouth as my voice speaks on its own.

“Yes! I mean no, no bother! Not a problem! I’m not… well I did have a girlfriend in high school but it wasn’t really serious and it never felt totally right so I-I’m… not… exactly… straight… either.” I somehow feel exponentially more exhausted than I did 10 seconds ago. This thing, this concept, rattling around in my head and my heart for months, for years, trying to figure it out, trying to find a place for it amongst all the other shit that’s been going on in my life, and in 10 seconds, and to a total stranger, it just suddenly slots in. For the first time, I’ve come out. As what, I don’t know exactly, but I guess that’s part of being here, right? To figure myself out. That’s why I did all of this, to have a blank slate without… just without.

“Crackin’!” says Dex, his face a beaming ray of honeyed light again. “It’s a secure spot for ya too, and if anyone, anyone, gives ya any shite ya come straight to me.” Meanwhile, Serge has been petrified, not moving at all, eyes darting between me and Dex. He seems embarrassed.

“So… ‘Surge’ right? I think we used to have a soda named that back in America.” He stares at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all, but then his shoulders soften, leaning into Dex slightly and exhaling a laugh.

“Ah aye, ha ha.” His voice is booming even at a normal volume, and that definitely sounds like an Irish accent to me. He turns to look at Dex, stooping slightly. “Sorry darlin’, I tried to keep clear.” Dex removes his arm from Serge’s shoulder and cranes to plant a kiss on his cheek. The bigger man melts.

“Nay bother, I just didn’t fancy overwhelmin’ the poor lad.” He turns back to me and says, “Anyway, if by chance ya can’t find me, he can lend a hand with some RA stuff on down-low, but let’s not make it a regular thing. Now will ya let me finish my tour please?” His tone is one of mock annoyance, betrayed by a sly smile and eyes brimming with light for the larger man as he looks up at him.

“Aye, sound,” says Serge, planting a kiss in Dex’s mop of hair and heading towards the foyer. The smaller man gives his ass a firm slap as he walks past, smiling and shaking his head.

“Sorry to give ya a rough first impression of him, he’s a kitten but too big fer his own good.”

“No, he’s fine. I… am just not used to guys being so… open… yet… I guess.” Dex frowns.

“Well hopefully we can help with that.”

“Are a lot of the students here, y’know…?”

“No more’an anywhere else I’m sure, although this house does have a bit of a reputation, mind.” He laughs. “Right then, let’s wrap this up, shall we?” He heads back into the foyer, picking up my suitcase and heading up the stairs as Serge leaves the kitchen and enters their room. There are four doors on the second floor, two immediately at the top of the stairs and two further along as the hallway curves to open onto the interior balcony. Above the main entrance below are a bank of windows that look like they open out onto a balcony outside, a number of chairs (including a couple of those weird reclining ones I thought I saw) and a little plastic table scattered about.

“Bathroom’s this first door here.” He motions to the door as we pass, a white clam shell affixed to it to differentiate it from the other doors. “Yeah, one bathroom fer six blokes, so it’s a proper bother. And here,” he says pulling a small keyring from his hoodie pocket and opening the last door, “is yer room.” It’s a decent size, bigger than I was expecting from a college dorm. Immediately in front of me across from the door is a wardrobe at the foot of a bed, a nightstand tucked into the corner in front of a nearly floor-to-ceiling window that looks out towards the back of the house. On the other side of the bed are two small desks along the wall, each with a desk chair, a wide window above. Beyond the desks is a second nightstand, a bed in the opposite corner, an identical wardrobe at the foot of it, and a tall window that looks out towards the front of the house. Each desk has a small lamp mounted onto the wall above it with an adjustable arm, same over the head of each bed. The floor is the same somewhat worn wood, the walls covered in a blue wallpaper. The ceiling sports a single domed light that casts the same kind of aged amber glow as the lights downstairs.

“Right, as I said, yer the first so choice is yers. I’ll let ya settle in and I’ll give ya my details later on once ye’ve had a chance to rest up.” He sets my bag down near the door. “Here are yer keys, big ‘un is for t’outer doors, smaller ‘un is fer yer door. Yer’ll want to go to student office to get yer ID and yer Oyster card but once that’s sorted yer’ll have plenty of time explore campus and th’ city. If ya got any questions me or Serge’ll be happy to help. I’ll leave ya to get settled in. Welcome to Stone Hall and to Briar Rose.” He hands me the small ring with two keys on it, and leaves with a smile, closing the door behind him.

So here I am, really here. It feels like a kind of dream. I walk the length of the room to the bed at the far end. The window on this end looks right out onto the balcony above the front doors, and actually… taking a look at the window latch, it looks like it might open outward. I give the handle a quick tug and the window pops open slightly. Probably hasn’t been opened in months (or longer). With a bit of a push it swings outward, a portal onto the balcony outside, a wave of cool air blowing inward. I take a step through, afternoon sun filtering through the clouds above. It feels surreal, but I did it… at least I think I did. Part of me wouldn’t be surprised to wake up back alone in my aunt’s place in New York. I retreat back through the window and close it, pulling the curtain to cover it. Doesn’t really block out much light, but I don’t care. Right now I could sleep through anything, what with the early morning, the long flight, and the whole ‘coming out’ thing….

I roll my suitcase over from the door to the bed. The frame of it is metal, rounded headboard with vertical bars. It looks smaller than the bed I had back home, but bigger than a twin. It’s got a new mattress though, but no sheets so I’ll need to put that on my shopping list. And a darker curtain, I don’t know how much use that balcony is going to get but I don’t imagine I’ll want a bunch of eyes watching me while I sleep. Even the ones from my future roommate are going to be an adjustment, but I’m not too worried about that (or much of anything right in this moment, too tired). I pick up the suitcase and set it down on the chair next to the bed, opening it and digging out my favourite hoodie. It’s mostly clothes in there, should make do until everything else gets here. Kicking off my shoes, I flop down onto the bed, bundling the hoodie under my head. Sleep comes easily for the first time in forever, but in the brief moment before it pulls me under completely there’s a sense of accomplishment: I really did it. I set this huge goal for myself and I’ve taken the first big step. Not just with school, but with my life. Hopefully here I’ll finally get to figure out who I am, someone I can be happy about when I go back home… if I’ll even be welcome back home. No, don’t worry about that now, just worry about you and what you need to do, and right now that’s sleep. I fish around for the hood beneath my head and pull it over my face, blocking out the light.

* * *

It feels like I’ve only just closed my eyes when I’m awake again, totally in the dark. I fumble around in my pockets for my phone but I can’t see that either. My heartrate spikes, panic starting. What’s going on…? Oh, right. With a sigh I pull the hoodie off my head, annoyed that I’m getting so worked up over nothing. The room is dim, just the globe light with its weak, pale glow. I check my phone (now that I can see), almost 10 pm. It was what, noon when I got here? Where am I? Right, my new room at animal house, Stone Hall or whatever it was Dex called it. There’s a text from a weird number. I tap on the notification. “Its Dex ur RA, so u have my #”. That was nice of him. Wonder where he got my number though. The school must have given it to him. I look up at the lamp above me, there must be a switch for it somewhere… ah! One of those wheel switches on the cable. I click it on. It’s not much brighter than the ceiling light, but it’s at least more light. I should probably add a lamp to my list if it’s going to be so dark in here otherwise.

I sit up, scrubbing a hand over my face as I swing my legs off the bed. My jaw cracks a bit as I yawn and look down at the floor. It looks old, but clean enough. Tentatively I put my bare feet to the boards. It’s surprisingly warm. I stand and head over to the door, feeling a cramp in my stomach. I should probably go try and figure out what I’m going to eat tonight. I twist the knob but the door remains firmly closed. Is it stuck? Then I notice a smaller oblong knob on the lock above. I turn it and the door opens. Weird, looks like that’s what actually keeps the door closed, one of those automatic locking bolts. There seems to be a switch to keep it open though. Just in case, probably better to develop the habit of keeping my key on me. I slog back over to the bed and search around for the keyring Dex gave me, eventually finding it on the floor near my shoes (it must’ve fallen when I fell asleep). I tuck it into my pocket along with my phone and head out into the hallway.

It’s very cosy in the evening light. The shadows mingle on the walls, cast inside by the lights in their cradles and outside by the lights on the window lattices from the entrance and the balcony. I make my way around the hall and down the stairs. The living room (or lounge I guess he called it? It’s going to take some getting used to the new words) is empty, so I head in the opposite direction towards the kitchen. The RA’s door is open so I can’t help myself but to look inside as I walk past. It’s huge! Just what I can see from the door looks like another hallway going towards the back of the house so it must be at least twice the size as the rooms upstairs. Near the door is a big shelf with a coat and a hoodie and an umbrella hanging from hooks, various shoes on the floor below a narrow seat. On the other side of that it looks like there’s a bookcase, and beyond that I can see a loveseat and the edge of a coffee table flickering in the light of what I assume is a TV hidden around the corner to the right. It looks nice, with warm wallpaper and white Christmas lights hanging on the walls. I wonder which of the two’s tastes all that is.

“Ah ehup!” I blink a few times, snapped from my reverie, noticing that Dex and Serge are lying on the loveseat, the larger propped up on one arm and the smaller craning his neck to look over the arm of the chair at me. Not sure why but seeing them cuddled up like that ignites a small fire in my stomach. Dex is waving me inward, so I enter, the two of them shifting around to sit upright. There are a couple pairs of soccer cleats cluttering the floor near the door, along with a pair of leather boots lined up nicely nearby. The bookshelf is filled with rock albums, DVDs, CDs, and books about sports, sociology, environmentalism, and a few graphic novels (none that I recognise, but I’d really only know Batman or Superman). Inside the room proper, the walls are decorated with posters for Sex Pistols and Queen and Radiohead. There’s a sizable TV mounted on the wall around the corner (looks like they were watching a movie, but not one I know). There’s a door on the right wall near to the TV, and one on the wall behind the corner.

“We were just watchin’ Shaun of the Dead, care to join?” Dex motions to what’s got to be the biggest beanbag chair I’ve ever seen propped up in the corner.

“Ah, no, thanks, I was just heading into the kitchen to see what the food situation is. Which, now that I say that out loud….”

“Yeah, there’s not much there… and ya haven’t had a chance to go shoppin’ yet. I should’ve gone to fetch yer student card while ya were snoozin’, saved ya some stress.” He looks really disappointed in himself. Serge gently squeezes Dex’s shoulders.

“Scran hall’s shut now anyways, so don’t be too hard on yerself, ya know,” says the larger. “Ye already put in a power, ye do. I’ve an idea. Do ye fancy Chinese?” Serge looks up at me.

“Yeah, sure! Who doesn’t?”

“Perfict! We were talkin’ about what to do fer dinner ourselves so why don’t we jus’ order in? Our treat.” I hesitate to accept, but what else can I do?

“Sounds great! And you don’t have to pay for mine, I’ll Venmo you for it.” Serge looks confused.

“Wha’s Venmo?”

“It’s a…” and it hits me like a brick, Venmo probably isn’t a thing outside the US. I have been so focused on just physically getting here that I’ve barely thought about anything else. I made sure my phone plan would be okay and my bank knows I’m overseas but I guess I didn’t think about the other things that I take for granted.

“Huh… yeah that might just be a US thing, it’s for sending money. So I guess I’ll accept your offer.” I smile, but I’m not happy and I’m sure they can probably tell that.

“Don’t fret about it lad,” says Dex, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie. “If ya like, tomorrow I’ll go with ya to get yer student and travel cards and then we can figure out the rest o’ the stuff. I hadn’t given it much thought that ya were here alone, but we don’t get a lot of international students in this house of all places. The few BRU gets usually go live in the dorms.” He chuckles.

“Ya sure, we’ll just have to be his first mates around these parts!” says Serge, thumbing through his phone. I don’t know why but hearing those words makes my face warm and my eyes sting a bit. I think Dex can sense it because he stands up, but he doesn’t move towards me. Instead, he grabs the huge beanbag chair and pulls it next to the couch.

“C’mon, have a sit, he says. I inhale sharply (more than I mean to) and walk the rest of the way in, sinking into the chair. “It must be o’erwhelmin’, bein’ in a new country with none of yer friends or family.” He pauses for a moment, then puts his hand on my knee (it’s surprisingly warm). “I’m not grand with speeches an’ all that, but I am here to help, like I had a lotta people around to help me. Not everyone has that, an’ that’s part of why I became RA of this house. Fer yer academic time here, or whatever, this is a safe place. Yer’ll only find love in these walls.” Serge moves off the couch and pushes the coffee table to the side so that he can sit cross-legged on the floor in front of me. He looks up into my face, eyes locked with mine, the colour of storm clouds on the sea in the dim light of the room.

“So,” he starts, very seriously, “How do ye feel about spring rolls, like?” I can’t tell if he’s just trying to distract me, but it works. I crack, laughing to the verge of tears. This is what I needed. The weight is just gone.

“Ah… um… ha ha, yeah, they’re fine.” I take some ragged breaths, the laughter still breaking through. “Not as good as egg rolls though.” He slaps Dex’s leg with the back of his hand.

“Ay, ye see! The lad knows what’s what!”

“I’m not against egg rolls ya knob, they just stuff me right full.” He grabs a small pillow from behind him and playfully bops Serge in the back of the head with it. I must still be jetlagged or something ‘cause everything is blue for a second. I rub my eyes and everything’s fine, though Dex and Serge seem suddenly really quiet, like the fun hit the brakes in a major way.

“So what’s yer usual order then Arthur?” asks Serge, rubbing the spot between his eyes and reaching for his phone on the coffee table. “Me own is the beef, like.” Dex shifts back to the loveseat, lying back to look at me upside down, staring.

“Oh, uh I like the spicy chicken.” Serge nods knowingly, tapping on his phone and shooting me a sidewise glance. “Um… and… about ‘Arthur’….” Serge puts his phone down and looks squarely at me, expectantly. Dex continues to stare, like he’s trying to read something but I don’t know if he’s seeing it or not.

“I was thinking, actually… y’see my middle name is ‘Lazuli’. I think I’d rather you guys call me that. Start totally fresh, y’know?”

“Absolutely, no worries, love,” says Dex, the smile returned to his face. Serge gives me a silent thumbs up, grabbing his phone again and continuing to tap away.

“Grand! Food’s on the way then,” he says a moment later.

“What’d ya order?” asks Dex, lifting his head to look at Serge.

“Yer usual shrimp and noodles, the spicy chicken, beef and rice, beef and veg, shrimp and veg, an’ a wee pair of spring rolls and egg rolls,” he says, still tapping away on his phone.

“Cow.” Dex shoves Serge’s side with his leg. “You eat too much.”

“I’m packin’ on!” He shrugs Dex’s leg off.

“Yer a dick,” says Dex, failing to stifle a smile.

“The only one ye hold dear, like,” says Serge, putting down his phone and rising and turning to firmly plant his hands on either side of Dex’s head, trapping him in. He gazes down into the smaller man’s eyes, a smile growing on his face before he move in for a kiss, deep and passionate. I can feel the head radiating off them and it’s starting to get uncomfortable, but I also don’t want to ask them to stop. Dex shoves Serge off, breathing heavily.

“Did ya forget we have a guest?”

“Nah, but ye came close enough.” Serge smiles and Dex’s pale complexion turns visibly rose, even in this light.

“Right! So!” starts the flustered Dex, pushing Serge away and sitting up, looking back over at me. “Ya seen Shaun of the Dead?”

“What? Oh! No, what’s it about?”

“It’s right funny. We’ve only just started so let me catch ya up. There’s this lazy bloke named Shaun workin’ at an electronics shop and his lass just chucked him ‘cause he’s a slacker so he’s crashed at his dealer mate’s flat. Next day they’re both hungover and he’s headed t’shops oblivious that there are zombies all over, he’s just carryin’ on with his day like nowt’s fucked. I mean, he even opened a fridge full of drinks and didn't clock t'bloody handprints on it, that's how thick he is. And now, he's strollin' back to his mate's flat, and that's when I spotted ya outside door.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I say, face feeling hot. “I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I was just going to the kitchen but your room kinda caught my eye. It looks so nice and cosy in here. And big. I can tell you two live together, it’s a real blend of decorations.”

“Thanks, that’s all me own, like,” comes Serge’s voice suddenly from behind me. I jump, but you can barely tell in this chair, it’s like a shock absorber. Somewhere when Dex was describing the film Serge moved to behind the loveseat and I didn’t notice.

“Would ye be wantin’ to hear a cute story, then?” Serge’s smile is wide on his face, arms crossed and resting his chin on the back of the loveseat in between Dex and me. Dex’s still rose-coloured face is turning noticeably more crimson in anticipation as he looks away to try and hide it. “We crossed paths at a gig by The Darkness, like. Not really my cuppa, mind, but I’d tagged along with some mates so it was grand. After some hours they’re kickin’ off with this ditty “Get Your Hands off My Woman” and I can’t bear it y’know? Everyone’s goin’ mental and that wee gobshite’s voice is so screechy I couldn’t take it. I’m not seein’ my mates anywhere so I’m considerin’ just takin’ off, like. So I made my way to the jacks but as I’m strolling along I spot this bloke absolutely mad, like.” He tilts his head towards Dex who, by now, is rotating through the darker shades of red and clutching at his mouth, still decidedly looking away. “Nah, listen, he’s lookin’ proper unwell and folks are givin’ him dodgy looks, so I go over and ask if he’s alright. Turns out his mates slipped him somethin’ of the sort, so we just sit in the halls for a while, havin’ a blether about music and all sorts. When it’s not blarin’ in yer face the music becomes bearable at least, so it was just grand sittin’ there, shootin’ the breeze with this sound lad who got messed up by his twat mates.” At this point Dex escapes to the hallway, but Serge was right, this is a cute story.

“We’re chattin’ away, sharin’ our music tastes, ventin’ about rubbish friends, aspirations for the future, like. Turns out we’re both students here! Never met one in the wild, ha ha! At this point whatever he was on is wearin’ off so I make sure he gets a bit of water and I ask him if he’s okay. He assures me he’ll be grand and starts headin’ back into the hall an’ I’m in a bind ‘cause I don’t wanna leave him by his lonesome, so I just sorta hang about on the stairs behind the balcony, getting’ all sorts of dodgy looks from folk, but then they started singin’ this tune that actually sounds like proper music, and I catch the lyrics “I believe in a thing called love: just listen to the rhythm of my heart.” And I’m thinkin’, what in the world? My heart’s starting to pound like a racehorse. The verse kicks in “I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day”, and at that very moment I knew I had to be right by his side when they blasted out that chorus again so I go to bolt up the stairs and I ate shite. Proper tumble, surprised I didn’t knock out any teeth or the like. Somehow this eejit just coincidentally looks back and spots me in the aftermath and he makes his way back to lend a hand. So we plop down on the stairs, baskin’ in my embarrassment, listenin’ to “I Believe in a Thing Called Love”, he’s laughin’, I’m sweatin’, my jeans are in tatters, and he asks if I fancy gettin’ a coffee sometime. So, fer our one-year anniversary I took those shredded jeans and stuck em’ in a frame as keepsake of the night we met and we were both so off our faces that we couldn’t tell night from day, but somehow we found each other.”

Serge’s eyes are almost welling up, face almost shining from the memory. Meanwhile Dex is still busying himself out in the hallway and I can feel him radiating like the sun through the doorway.

“So you’re the rocker?” I ask Serge. He laughs.

“Ah no! I was just meant to be goin’ to a concert with me mates that night, decided to dress the part. All that shite belongs to Dexy, but see I love him so it’s grand. Those jeans are a reminder of the one time I gave it a go, so I can’t rightly say I tended badly now, can I?” Serge’s phone rings and he answers. A few short ‘yeps’ and ‘ayes’ later he hangs up.

“Dexy me darlin’, if yer still out there not listenin’ the scran’s here. I reckon they’re makin’ their way up the footpath.” As if to answer the front door creaks open and slams shut. “He tries to put up a brave front for everyone else, but sometimes I reckon he forgets that he’s a person too, ya know? I know he said to ask him for help with anything but… maybe ye should ask me first instead? I’m a bit of a loser myself these days but if there’s anything I can do that helps him out…. I might not be official, like, but I can certainly give ye a tour of the campus an’ all. Bits of the city too, at least the parts I’m familiar with.” The front door opens and shuts again, the sound of footsteps and rustling bags accompanying.

“How much did ya order again?” asks Dex as he enters the room, arms heavy with the bags of Chinese takeout. Serge springs up and grabs the bags, planting a kiss on Dex’s cheek.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed ye, ma darlin’.” Dex blushes again.

“Ya didn’, but y’know I don’t like telling people those stories.” He’s smiling but it’s forced, more like a grimace. I suppress the urge to say how much I liked the story, I’m sure that would just make things worse. And besides, while true, it also made me feel… lost? But I guess that’s part of why I did all this, to find myself. The pair of them return to the room proper with the bags of food and suddenly I can feel my stomach growling. I don’t think I’ve eaten much of anything all day. It was, what, 7am when I left for JFK, a seven-hour flight to Heathrow, baggage, cab to the school, and then the walk here to the house when it was around noon so that’s… wait, time zones… 12 hours? Plus the stress of travel. So yeah, no wonder I’m not feeling my best. The larger man pulls the coffee table closer and spreads the various boxes of takeout on it, most of them in front of himself, but I see the spicy chicken on my side and what looks like shrimp and the spring rolls where Dex was sitting. There are also three drinks in brown glass bottles. I don’t recognize the labels.

“Should I fetch th’ bottle opener?” asks Dex as he sits down, not waiting for an answer (or he already knows what the answer would be).

“Nah,” says Serge, grabbing a bottle and deftly prying the top off with his teeth. He does this to all of them, handing one to each of us before raising his own. “To a new pal!” Dex raises his bottle and I do too. It’s a little gross but I’m not going to think too much about it. The thought was nice at least, and I’m in a new place so I should try to get used to new things, even if those things are… human bottle openers. “Right, so where were we? Just got the Cornetto, like?” He starts the movie back up as he opens his box of beef and rice. Dex nibbles on one of his spring rolls and takes a sip of his drink, fully pulled back into the film. I look down at my takeout box and just feel suddenly overwhelmed with emotion again, but I hold it back as best I can. Neither of them notices this time, and I covertly wipe some moisture from my face, opening my food box and grabbing a plastic fork and packet of soy sauce.

“So why are there zombies?” I ask, settling back into the beanbag chair.

“Just watch, it’ll make sense later on,” says Dex, taking another bite from his spring roll.