Haru: Hey everyone. I know many of you enjoyed Rei's work and I hope you won't hate this. It's best if you've already read that fic or are at least up to the same chapter, this is just intended to fill in gaps and give you Victor's point of view of events. Please go easy on me, I am not a writer. We have been collaborating on this for a while but naturally there will be some small differences.
(Wednesday, 9 September 2015 - 8:30am, Detroit, Michigan)
Victor woke up abruptly, sitting up all at once and accidentally making himself dizzy in the process. He put his head in his hands. He didn't recognise his surroundings at first, until he recalled that he had just relocated which was the most likely source of his nightmare due to the abiding jet lag. Groping for his phone in order to check the time, he slowly registered that he was already late, along with a series of messages from his friend. No time! Swinging out of bed, he pulled on the clothes closest to him from their perpetual pile, grabbed his bag and set off. Normally nothing would cause him to forgo his morning coffee, but today was an emergency as it was his first day of class. He couldn't afford to be late.
Arriving with barely enough time to spare, he fished to check he had still remembered his keys and wallet. He walked into the bathroom and grabbed a tie from his bag and quickly used the band to pull his hair out of his face. Post grad in America was going to be challenging enough without the additional frustration of his hair in his face or the extra attention it would attract between the length and colour. Deeming himself to be passably presentable considering the circumstances, he turned on his heel and exited the bathroom to find his classroom along with whatever awaited him there.
Upon arrival, he scanned the room for spare seats and realised in his lateness the only the back right of the room was left available. That was unfortunate but on it did serve his needs, he could avoid attention here and if he ended up being a spacecase intermittently nobody would notice, at least that was the mental justification he gave to himself as he slid into his seat. Art history. Post grad was as good a time to branch out as any, right? He pulled out his stuff. Besides, it did have something to do with literature, sometimes there were things that words couldn't adequately express and he needed to at least try to explore those and gain a better understanding of that if he was ever going to be a decent writer. He was messing with his stuff and mulling over the lack of things in his life apart from skating, books and impulsivity that resulted in him being this class when he noticed the boy beside him staring at him, with his mouth hanging open. He looked very young, he noted.
"Yes? May I help you?"
"No, I'm sorry," the boy quietly mumbled while looking shyly, "You just have very long hair.". He paused, seemingly unable to look away temporarily, "It's nice.". After a very long moment, the boy self consciously turned back to continue with what he was doing.
Victor peered over at him, he appeared to be drawing an octopus. Or was it octopi? He didn't remember the word for one. Was he an artist? He supposed that made more sense for him to be here than it did himself, considering the class.
It was ridiculous, but he felt himself smiling, less from the compliment than from the way it was delivered. It had been spoken as if it had been drawn from him involuntarily, like the student couldn't help himself despite being painfully shy. He looked over the boy again, carefully this time. Young and asian, with glasses and cute, messy hair. He had large, interestingly shaped, really amazing eyes. He was gorgeous, but that wasn't all. He was gorgeous, adorable and had a sense of innocence about him, a rare combination. It was touching, and he felt a strange emotion overcome him.
He found it hard to tell how long it was he spent ruminating but today thoughts were creeping in and not leaving him alone. It was happening more and more of late. It was happening now over the student next to him. You don't know him, he reminded himself. That annoying part of his mind that he seemed to be helpless against and constantly got him in trouble murmured back no, but I want to.
The professor finally showed, and once he attained that this today's lecture was going to be inane, he listened with half an ear. The typical syllabus and examples were handed out. He picked up his phone and read the messages left from Chris, the usual from him although he sounded a tad panicked. He texted back appropriately encouraging messages to his current drama before reassuring him that he was fine and could manage by himself.
Chris seemed to think his predilection for only paying attention to what interested him was going to cause problems while he was living in another country alone. He had half a point, although everyone thought he was clueless, he also had the ability to be very perceptive in unusual ways when he was actually interested in something. Swinging between those two extremes simply based on what he felt like but had no control over wasn't something most understood so they usually just pegged him as an airhead which wasn't exactly accurate. The constant underestimation always worked in his favour but it always proved to be incredibly isolating. Chris worried too much. Then he couldn't help himself, at least he knew Chris would get it.
Quickly he texted Chris:
: There's this Asian student sitting next to me. And he's beautiful. Oh so beautiful
C: !
: And I want to talk to him. Badly
C: Then do it!
C: I encourage this behaviour!
Remember what we talked about?
He remembered. Chris wanted him to put himself out there more, form connections with others. He found that hard to do and back home how much he was known interfered with that, coming here meant relative anonymity and a fresh chance that Chris had been urging him to take the initiative with. The lack of friends and romantic activity in his life was something Chris was very vocal over and he couldn't argue, he had precious few of the former and it had been a very long time when it came to the latter. The truth was he wasn't very adept at starting friendships or anything else. He sat back and thought for a moment, memories surfaced of the last time they talked about this, "rely on your strengths", Chris had been rather amandant on that particular point.
Technically speaking, literature was his strength. He loved poetry. Could he give him a note? At best he would probably have to respond and at worst he would at least find out if the student beside him had taste. Taste was important and indispensable, it often spoke of other things including what someone valued most. He wanted to try to get to know him, there was something about him that was drawing him in. But he should be polite first. It was the best he was going to come up with on such short notice as the class was drawing to a close around him. He had to hurry. He quickly tore a paper out, scribbled "My name is Victor. And yours?", and folded it, passing it to the quiet cutie to his right with a smile.
The gorgeous stranger took the note hesitantly.
He resumed texting Chris:
: I gave him a note. That should be a good conversation starter
: And he walked away.
: Okay then
: It's not like I'm gonna cry or anything
C: Victor
: Okay maybe just a little bit. He was cute
He had watched him as he opened it and made an almost unbecoming face. He didn't appear to do anything else, simply tucked it into his notepad and left the class just after the majority of the other students.
Crap