The thing about Michigan summers wasn't just that they were hot. It wasn't the giant, genetically mutated mosquitos that could drain your entire body of blood if you stayed outside for more than fifteen minutes without any super-strength bug spray; the kind that made you smell like sour chemicals for days, choking everyone around you while the mosquitos built up their immunity. The thing about Michgan summers was that they were sticky. They were muggy and humid and sticky. Places like Texas had dry heat. The kind of heat that you could block out with little clay houses with white roofs that had hard-wired air conditioning systems. The wet, sticky, clingy kind of heat that hovered in between the Great Lakes was something that you couldn't block out. You had to seal up your doors and windows and spend your days in the freezer, sending prayers to the weather gods that the too-long winter would come back and bury you in six feet of snow. And it was the heavy kind of snow that made you wish the sticky days of summer were back, or made you wish that you had a nice cottage in the hills of Tennesse, where the winters weren't blanketed in six feet of snow quilts and the summers were dry and breezy.

Riku Maes hated the summer. Always had, and always would.

He had grown up with sticky summers and heavy winters, one being too short and miserable, and the other being too long and boring. He hated the weather as much as he hated all those little houses he had jumped to, chasing jobs that weren't hiring and a house market that was tanking harder than the gates were shutting in Detroit, shutting everything down. He hated how he sat by, idle as his homes were demolished for parking lots. How malls became empty and barren because jobs didn't pay enough and the houses were being foreclosed on. He hated how people turned their noses up on such things, denying that the world was in such a sorry state. He hated people that were so overly optimistic that it sounded like they were delusional. He hated people.

Riku Maes hated a lot of things. Always had, always would.

But somehow, all that hate had carried him away to college. He had a successful freshmen year, considering the circumstance of having a roommate who smoked pot all the time, a roommate who liked blaring dubstep and drinking himself into a coma for fun, and a roommate that disappeared mysteriously before finals, leading to a full-on police investigation that had successfully blocked him from doing any studying. But a 3.2 GPA was anything but horrible and he had, unlike some others, successfully made it to his second year without having a major breakdown or dying. So he considered to be in a good place, even if that place was currently laying on the plastic-tiled floor in nothing but his boxers, three fans turned on high and trying to beat back the heat that had seeped in thanks to poor window-sealing in the dorm room.

He was currently the only one in the room, but he could care less. His two roommates were out to pick up their third from the airport, since he had been a week late in moving in. How someone could be a full week late to something like college completely dumbfounded Riku, but he didn't know the guy's current circumstance, so it seemed inappropriate to judge him so soon. He didn't even know the guy's name, but it didn't matter. Riku already hated him. He hated people that were morbidly late to such important things. Or maybe Riku should be more polite to his future bunk-mate.

There was a knock on the door, barely audible over the fans and the sound of the people on the floor above him moving around their furniture while someone down the hall rocked out a little too hard to Taylor Swift. The knock was one of those stupid knocks. In that tune that you're supposed to give aknock-knock back to. Was that even from a song? What song was it? No one knew. People just did that stupid little knock-knock-knockknock-knock if they wanted to be amusing. People that knocked like that smiled and laughed when you opened the door, as if they were a fucking genius who just made your day because of their stupid knock. The kind of people who were all touchy-feely and liked "connecting" and "hanging out" with you. The kind of people that you couldn't get off your doorstep even if you pushed them back.

Riku Maes hated people like that.

Riku didn't get off of the floor to answer it. It wasn't like he really could—his back was currently stuck to it with sweat. Besides, if the rhythm-knocker wanted in that badly, he could just walk right in. It wasn't like the door was locked. Besides, Riku was good at faking his death. Maybe the kid would just think his brains fizzled and melted and the sticky summer was busy working away to rot his pale corpse. Or maybe he wouldn't come in and use common courtesy to stay the fuck out of the room when no one answered the door.

But Riku had high wishes, and the world liked aiming low.

The door swung open without much noise, the latch clicking and the door itself bumping into the recently emptied trash can that had been strategically placed behind it to hide their piles of Hot Pocket wrappers and crushed beer cans when the RA made their rounds. There was the sound of an enthusiastic greeting getting choked off in someone's throat as they entered, a faint thunk as the door swung back and stopped on the visitor's shoe. Riku didn't even open his eyes to acknowledge him.

"Um… Is Axel in?"

The voice was faintly familiar, as if Riku had heard it over the phone when Axel was chatting away to his stupid friends while Roxas attempted to get him to shut the fuck up already while he was trying to do his homework for the overload of ten classes that he was taking and already falling behind in. The voice itself was slightly nasal—not something that Riku found pleasure in hearing. Somewhat like a mosquito buzzing too close to his ear, making him swat at the bug long after it had even left, perching on his shoulder and sipping away while its buzzing echoed in the ear canals of its victim.

Annoying.

"No." It was short and clipped, laced with that uniquely Riku tone. That tone that told you to shut up and go away because Riku Maes didn't like people and he certainly didn't like you, so go away already before you waste any more of his time.

But apparently annoying rhythm-knockers that buzzed like mosquitos were immune to that sort of thing.

"Do you know when he's gonna be back? I gotta—"

"No." Repeat it. Firmer with the tone. Cut him off. Stop waving his arm uselessly and just smack the damn parasite that was leeching off of his shoulder before it could buzz around any longer.

"Could you tell him I came by?"

What was his name anyway? It started with a D. Dan? Darren? Dirk? Dennis? Yeah. Dennis sounded about right.

"No."

"Tch. Don't gotta be such an asshole about it, geez." The door slammed shut, leaving Riku alone again with his blissful fans and the feeling of melting. He could hear Nasally Dennis angrily muttering to himself just outside of the door, punching numbers on his shitty phone to call Axel rather than rely on a stupid asshole of a roommate.

Swatting mosquitoes while they were trying to drain you always did leave a bit of a sting. Not to mention that it itched like hell for the next month.

He must have fallen asleep after that, in his little puddle of overheated Riku, the sound of the fans lulling him to sleep. It wasn't one of those pleasant naps, either. It was one of those naps where he woke up wondering what year it was and what planet he was on. Where standing up and half-limping to the bathroom due to a stiff leg and the desire to wash off the sweat felt like he was walking through knee-deep Jell-o and his dreams kept trying to continue without him. He ended up standing in the shower without much care to actively wash himself, getting out a few minutes later when he heard the door open and Axel's usually chattering self pipe up.

"This is it! We're still workin' on gettin' the TV hooked up, but there's a fridge over there and all. This is just th' main room. You'll be stayin'—Yeah, right in there. Riku must be in the bathroom, but he sleeps on the bottom bunk. Ya can proba'ly ask him where ya wanna put yer stuff."

That fucking accent was so annoying. Worse than Nasally Dennis. Why did he have to get stuck with a roommate from Kentucky who did nothing but moan and groan about how tough it was for him to adjust? He was a third-year, for fuck's sake. The guy shouldn't even be staying with a second-year and two first-years. Shouldn't he have an apartment?

Another voice spoke up as Riku toweled off his hair, grabbing his brush to start fighting through knots. This voice was new. Not Roxas, not Axel, not Nasally Dennis or any other of their annoying friends. There was a slight accent to it that Riku couldn't quite place, but thankfully it wasn't as annoying or noticeable like Axel's was. He didn't sound like he was from another country or anything, but he was from somewhere.

"Thanks! Oh, Roxas, I can carry that—" Thud "Okay, heh, maybe not." There was a nervous chuckle from more than one party, the click of the fridge being opened as Axel grabbed a juice box. There was the sound of dragging, the new tenant refusing any of Roxas' help as he dragged his belongings across the smooth floor and started unpacking, humming a rather upbeat tune as Riku continued yanking knots out of his dripping hair.

Riku had liked having that room to himself, even if it had just been for a week. He knew where everything was, how to get from Point A to Point B without worrying about waking anyone up, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted in there. Now he had a bunk mate. Someone to shake around in the top bunk, causing discomfort for whoever was stuck on the bottom. But it wasn't his fault he didn't like the top bunk. It wasn't his fault that his roommate had been an entire week late to school. It wasn't his fault that he had to worry about his things getting messed up now that there was someone else sharing the room.

He didn't even know why this guy was pissing him off when he didn't even know his name yet.

Sighing and tying his hair back with one of the many rubber bands around his wrist, Riku stepped back into his boxers and wished that he had thought to bring in a change of clothes with him. He didn't think it would make a very good first impression if he just walked in there in nothing but his underwear with damp bangs hanging down past his eyes and flushed skin from the heat of his shower and the sticky summer.

But then again, since when did Riku Maes ever care anything about first impressions?

He kept the scratchy towel around his shoulders at an attempt for modesty, finally exiting the bathroom to hear more clearly what was going on. Axel was still trying to fix the TV, Roxas sipping at the stolen juice box and occasionally muttering "better" or "more to the left" as Axel tilted and twisted the aluminum foil-covered antenna. He got a distracted greeting and a sarcastic "nice shirt" from Roxas, to which he replied with a grunt and a flip of a certain finger before he turned, stepping in through the open door of his bedroom.

No, it wasn't just his now.

He seemed to go undetected as he crossed the room to the bottom bunk, taking a seat as Sora arranged hangers in the too-small closet. Lucky for him—Riku had already claimed the drawers. He didn't have to worry about his new roommate messing that up.

"Oh! Hey, sorry! I must not've heard you come in."

Any good intentions that Riku had on making a good impression were promptly thrown out the window with a grunt as he flopped down against his sheets, wishing the damn heat would go away. Nasally Dennis had already ruined his day. He didn't need a chipper new roommate to worsen that for him.

"My name's Sora!" Riku's face was buried in his pillow, but he could still see Sora's smile. He couldfeel the toothy grin just shining off of that bastard like he was on some stupid teeth whitening commercial.

If there was something Riku hated more than rhythm knockers, it was people that smiled too much. Optimists. The kinds of people that refused to see the bad in the world. They even refused to acknowledge that the person they were talking to was fresh out of the shower and borderline naked and that was not supposed to be comfortable between two guys when they first met. The kind of people that would say it was a beautiful day when there was sticky humidity making your clothes stick to your sweaty body or when there was six and a half feet of snow covering everything and preventing you from leaving the building because the maintenance man broke the snow shovel again.

Just a few words, and Riku was certain he had Sora's personality pinned right there and then.

There was a bit of awkward shuffling in response to Riku's reaction before Sora was back to hanging up clothes, occasionally disappearing from the room to put things in the bathroom or ask Roxas where he could hang up posters. Riku stayed perfectly content where he was, debating on going back to sleep. He still felt a little fuzzy, not completely awake after his short nap on the floor. And that floor had really killed his back.

"So, um, you're Riku, right?"

Looks like he had another mosquito on his hands.

But, try as he might, there wouldn't be any swatting this one away. Sora was his roommate now, and that was that. Even if he hated people, he had to at least make an effort. Riku Maes may not have liked people, but Sora wasn't just "people". He was his roommate. And unless they were going to be spending the school year in awkward silences, Riku had to reach out. At least a little bit, just to make it comfortable. Let the mosquito drink for now—kill it with pesticides later.

So he sat up, pushing himself up and off of the pillow. Feet swung over and landed with a little slap on the floor, the towel falling back down to the bed as a hand worked through the bangs that were busy tickling his cheeks. "Yeah, I'm—"

There was the gasp.

It was always a gasp. Riku hadn't heard anything else. The only one that had been different was the "sweet scar" Axel had blurted after his gasp. He even heard Sora's hand slap down over his mouth when he realized the noise he had made. But Riku was used to it. Always had, always would be.

There were thick scars lying under the hanging wisps of his hair. Very thick. Pink, distorted tan, a little bit of purple. Disgusting, really. His formerly-beautiful eyes were covered in them, squinted slightly due to the wound. Another scar in much of the same fashion was on the left side of his neck, spreading down like hideous roots to his shoulder. He couldn't see, but he could feel Sora's eyes on him. It went on longer than it usually did, no question of "what happened to you" breaking through the shocked silence.

There was a shrill beep, shattering the awkward moment like a hammer on glass. Riku's hand slammed on the off switch, getting up and stepping into a pair of shorts at the base of his bed, yanking a high-collared shirt sans sleeves on over himself. Snapping the bands on his wrists distractedly, he eventually found his backpack and his cane to get to his evening class, not saying a word as he left Sora standing in confusion and shock.

Riku Maes hated people. Always had, always would.