Since there are hardly any multi-chapter Pewdiecry fics out on , I thought I'd jump the gun and write one! c:
Warning- this story will very likely be long, and possibly go through times when there's not many updates. I'm a somewhat busy person for someone without a life :3
I don't own Pewdiepie, Cryaotic, Cutiepiemarzia, Tobuscus, or any other youtuber mentioned in this fic. They belong to themselves. I also don't own any songs that might be used in this fic. (I'm bad to use songs randomly, and make people magically learn guitar)
AU- Pewds and Cry are art school students, Marzia and Pewds never dated, Toby's just that one weird guy that everyone on campus loves, and they're all around Marzia's age (early twenties, late teens).
Ouch. Ouch. OUCHOUCHOUCHOUCH! I thought, ramming the sore fingers on my sprained hand into the elevator buttons. Best way to start my first day at a new college EVER.
That was sarcasm, if you couldn't tell.
School hadn't actually started back yet, not officially, at least. It didn't officially start until about two weeks from now, but I was getting all my crap moved into my new on-campus apartment. It was a good deal, it hadn't costed too much to rent and it was within a five minute walk to the studio I'd be working in. That was always good.
The only downside to the apartment was that I was sharing it with a complete stranger. I was meeting him today, I assumed, since this was the day that all the "newbies" came and set up their living arrangements and got to know each other. Most of the students who had been here for at least a semester were coming on the official starting date, maybe a little bit before.
I pulled the key out of my pocket with my good hand and unlocked the door.
I stuck my head in the living room. It smelled strongly of fresh paint and new furniture. There was a trace of cigarette smoke wafting around the room, but it would have smelled much stronger if my roommate smoked. Which I really didn't mind, it reminded me of back home, when my grandfather used to smoke.
"Hey, is anyone here yet?" I called out. My voice echoed through the almost empty living room, the smell of paint now giving me a headache.
"Hellooooo?" I called, after waiting a few moments and receiving no response. I stepped inside, and shut the door behind me softly. It still sounded loud in the silent apartment.
"Ummm, hang on!" a voice called from down the hallway. About a half minute later, a man with mid-length dark hair and glasses perched on the very tip of his nose came in. He was wearing an ancient looking, paint splattered shirt. He was talking rapidly on his phone. "Yeah, yeah, Mom, it's real nice…. Mhhmm, okay, well my roommate's here now, gotta go, bye!…" he grumbled in annoyance. "Yeah he's kinda cute, just shut up and…. I gotta go, bye!" he immediately hung up the phone, a blush creeping over his face.
"Sorry about that… My mom's very involved in my sexuality." I could see he was obviously very embarrassed about it.
"It's fine." I say, feeling my slight blush edge away. "It's not every day I get called cute." I cracked a little lopsided smile at him. "And you are?"
"Bi- I mean, Cry. Actually, my real name's Ryan, but everyone calls me Cry." Cry wiped his paint-covered fingertips on his shirt. "And you're-?"
"Felix." I said, kind of awkwardly. This had definitely been the most- interesting- introduction I'd ever had with someone. "Felix Kjellberg."
"Where're you from?" Cry asked, picking up an apple from a little bowl off the bar and biting off a chunk. "I've never heard that kind of accent before."
"Sweden." I said. "But I was raised in the US from the time I was thirteen."
"How long have you been speaking English? If you don't mind my asking." Cry took another bite of apple. "Want some food? Or a drink?" he added.
"A drink would be great." I say, a bit parched from my walk in the sweltering Florida heat. "And since we came here, I guess. I don't remember learning much english in school as a kid, but when my mom planned on moving to the states she started teaching me the language."
"Okay, I've got some sodas in the fridge." Cry said, pointing to the kitchen. I nodded and grabbed a Coke from inside the fridge door.
"They might be kinda warm." he warned. "I just got the fridge working about an hour ago."
I took a swig, the fizz from the carbonated drink burning my throat in a pleasing way as it went down.
"God, the flight down here was torture." I said, placing the half-empty can down on the bar and taking a seat on the couch. I felt like I was intruding on someone else's home, even if it was my home now.
"That bad, huh?" Cry asked, chuckling.
"Yeah, it wasn't long, just as it was… painful." I rubbed at my sprained hand.
"I was about to ask about what you did to your hand." Cry said, picking up his own coke and drinking it.
"Sprained it helping my dad fix some roofing stuff on our house." I said. "I fell off of a ladder and landed on it funny."
"I would be more worried about cracking my head open!" Cry said, laughing.
"Yeah, I was just laying there, moaning. My dad and sister thought that I was gonna die!" I laughed.
"When's it gonna be healed?" Cry asked.
I shrugged. "Probably before school officially starts." I rubbed at my stubble.
"Well, I hate to just wonder off, but I'm working on something I really need to get finished." Cry said, turning to walk back down the hall. "Your room's the second door on the left. The one next to it's the bathroom, and the one room across the hall is mine. I f you need any help getting around campus and stuff, I think we have some of the same courses together, and I know my way around here pretty well, since I've been here for the majority of the summer." And with that, Cry retreated to his bedroom. Some music was playing as he opened and shut his door, just barely loud enough for me to hear.
I carried my luggage to the bedroom, opening the door with my injured hand, causing a burst of pain to shoot up through my arm.
"God, I'm an idiot for falling off that ladder." I muttered to myself. I throw my bags onto the empty bed and look the room over.
It's pretty decently sized, about the size of my room back at my parent's, maybe a little smaller. There's a pretty good sized closet on one side of the room, an empty bed on the other. A window sits on the far wall, with one of those almost-window-seat-windowsills. A ray of afternoon light shines through the dusty blinds covering the windows. The floors are hard-wood, and my Chuck-Taylor's barely make any noise as I walk across the room.
The walls are painfully white. Like, hospital room walls white. It's so boring, and I long to take a brush and drag it across the walls until they were filled with color.
My room back home was bright blue, the walls covered with posters and drawings, ranging from the time I was barely old enough to hold a pencil correctly to barely two or three days before leaving for college. I'd left my room as it was at home, and I threatened my mom not to throw anything out. She had just thrown her hands up in mock defeat and promised not to. My bed at home had been small, just big enough to fit me, and sometimes my dog. Damn, I was gonna miss my little Poogah.
I kind of wanted to go down to the convenience store a few blocks down and get some cigarettes. I didn't smoke usually, I was just stressed about being in a new place. I just wanted the smell of home, which was Granddad's cigarettes and Mom's traditional Swedish cooking.
I convince myself not to go, knowing that if I get started up smoking again, I won't be able to quit. I just throw myself down on the bare bed and curl into a ball, falling asleep and hoping that I won't wake up again, at least not here.
Hope you guys enjoyed this! This is my first time writing a Pewdiecry that isn't a one shot, so I hope this turned out well c: (And like I mentioned at the beginning, this story is AU. Please keep an open mind, especially about the smoking, because that may or may not come up as a major issue later on.)
Reviews are love, as are favorites and follows!