The movie, which had Hex imitating the perpetually drunk captain most of the walk back, had been quite good. But then, midterms crashed into everyone at the University like a wave, making them almost non-social, holed up in dorms or taking up tables in the vast library spread with books and notes.
Hex was one of them, spending more time curled up on his bed with a book in his lap and a cafeteria noodle cup in hand than taking the time to walk the blocks to his (and all his friends') favorite deli and café to grab a sandwich.
Of course, there were still classes, and he was never late to one, always taking a seat near the middle for the best view of the board, and its notes that were sure to be integral.
Not that he was the only one. Roy, too, was hard up for time, studying for math and science, and working on his huge engineering project. Time and again, chances to hang out with his friends- and Hex- were quickly eaten up by school work.
So, when Hex found a note taped to his door, he almost disregarded it, but took it off anyway and set his backpack down, curling one leg under to read it.
Just his name on the front, not scrawled, but neatly written, in cursive. And on the inside, the same thing. Neat cursive, and a simple question.
Do you want to be my friend?
()Yes ()No
--Roy
Hex turned the note over, giving it a look of amused questioning, but that was all it said. He rolled his eyes and had to smile, but dug out a pen, and checked the first box. In his own terrible handwriting, he scribbled beneath it, We're already friends, you dork.
That evening, after finishing up his Statistics work, he mused for a moment over the paper, then re-folded it and took another piece of tape, detouring to the west wing, second floor, to stick it to Roy's door. And then, he went out to the café, staying long enough to grab a bite to eat, and listen to some nice piano music.
There was no note on the door in the days that passed, though Roy did get a word in edgewise with Hex, mostly about school work, and asking maybe if they could study together- Roy was smart, but Hex, he'd found, always had a way with helping better understand things through explanation, rather than memorization.
It was rare that they had time, but occasionally, over the next weeks, they found some way to scrape minutes up to study together, even if it did degrade into a popcorn fight on more than one occasion.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the last of the midterms were finished, that Friday, and the weekend was spent finally, finally catching up with friends, complaining, and comparing thoughts on how bad they actually did. It was nice to lounge, to write flippant notes for pieces of chapters that the professors would go over on Monday.
And it was that Monday that another note came. Hex recognized the handwriting, and took it off his door, opening it as soon as he was inside. The writing was the same, but the message was different, and it painted a splash of pink across his face.
Roy received the note back the next day, taped to his door, where the scribblings of What are you talking and I didn't thi were hastily erased and marked over, while a tiny, deliberate check mark was placed in the box that said 'Yes,' under his question.
Do you want to hold my hand?
Two days later, after seeing hide nor hair of Roy- and secretly glad, and secretly feeling rather sick at it- another note was on Hex's door. He reached up to take it, hesitated, and then did, slipping inside his room and setting his backpack down, and he quickly followed, flopping down on his bed with one leg curled beneath him.
He unfolded it the two times it had been creased, expecting something... he didn't really know what he was expecting. But instead, his brow drew down in confusion.
()Yes ()No
--The Flame
"...What?" he asked, as if the paper could answer, but it just faced him silently.
It was obviously Roy. He was the only one Hex ever got notes like this from, and the only one he'd ever heard referred to as 'The Flame,' the rumors of his affinity with fire and pyromania not out of Hex's loop. But... there was nothing there. And signing it with a rumored name? That was just silly.
The note sat on Hex's desk for two days before he realized what to do with it.
When Roy received something back four days after he'd left his own note, it wasn't at all what he'd expected. It wasn't one of his taped backward with Hex's scrawl on it, but a new note, looking as though it had been folded and re-folded several times before it was finally, haphazardly taped to his door.
And on the inside was something he probably should have expected, especially from Hex.
()Yes ()No
--The Dragon
Roy sat on his bed, considering for a moment before he dug out his lighter, running it under the paper to heat it up. The edges of words written in dried lemon juice turned brown, and a few more moments had him staring at it before he laughed, falling back onto his bed with a ploff, the note still in his hand.
Do you love me?
(X)Yes ()No
