Brotp friendly; this is dedicated to wifey Ree because of a very true story that once happened to her personally
Prompt insp: "my favorite college experience is when i had a 7am class and the kid next to me literally poured a monster energy drink into his coffee said "i'm going to die" and drank the whole thing"
It was the Friday of dead week, and certainly the week lived up to it's namesake; everyone was exhausted and their souls were broken. Disposable coffee cups littered the corners of unkept study rooms and the smell of those who hadn't showered was… well it reeked...a lot. The only hope at the end of the tunnel was the upcoming summer vacation that they were promised, but even then, most of the students in Maka's major had already dedicated themselves to research projects and internship- herself included. When would she be allowed to rest, she thought to herself, feeling the knots in her shoulders a little more.
While she waited for her professor to arrive and get their review session started, she fiddled with the pages of her notebook as she did, smoothing out the curled edges and rubbing at the coffee stains from her rough mornings. The latest stain was from just a half an hour before she walked to her building- a result of another all nighter at a twenty-four hour coffee shop. Maka grumbled as the room started to look less sparse, but even on a crucial day such as today, she didn't expect her classmates to show up, especially for a 7am on a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule. The subject in particular was a breadth requirement- they were all required to take an Philosophy and values class. Maka decided that it was best to get it out of the way before the inevitable rush to complete their units, but she rolled her eyes as bleary-eyed seniors stumbled into the lecture hall. She'd already completed it in her freshman year, but unexpectedly taken a liking to philosophy itself, choosing to pursue a major in it and enrolling in the current class for her elective count. Perhaps she would have avoided it if she'd known that there would be struggling seniors entering who hoped for an easy A.
The professor entered after a couple of minutes after the review session was originally supposed to start in a hawaiian shirt and large raybans hanging from the top button. He retrieved a flash drive from his khaki shorts and tossed it to his assistant who fumbled with the projector system, too ancient to function yet too new to replace- like some people. While the projector booted up, the rest of the students settled themselves.
During her not so patient wait, she heard a bang next to her and jumped at the sound. The little foldable desk was bending under the weight of all of the books placed on it, and Maka traced the books back to the boy with a tight hand on the Monster energy drink resting on the top of the mound. He roughly squeezed his way into the seat, taking the only left handed desk in the room closest to the aisle, using a knee to push away his bag from his leg.
He dug into his pant pockets, lifting himself entirely from his seat to get his hand deeper to the bottom until he fished out a small white pill that Maka identified as Advil, a common college student essential. The boy's name was scribbled precariously on a loose paper sticking out from the folds of his textbook in chicken scratch though his last name was covered by a dark purple sticky note. God knows if he even properly uses them.
Messy and unorganized, she thought, wrinkling her nose at the thought of how many other books he owned that suffered the same fate. Still, Maka handed him a pencil as she always did, like every other day when the boy happened to be in class; it was always sheer luck that he didn't oversleep his alarm and no predictive interval could track his erratic attendance.
"Morn' Black Star."
He grunted in response to her, not giving her any other form of acknowledgement other than the acceptance of the pencil. Black Star, or legally known as Braxton, was a senior in his last year of college with a major in Asian American Studies and a minor in History. It was personal, he barked at her on their first day of classes during introductions. Well fuck her for asking why. It spurred a legendary yelling fest that lasted a full ten minutes until the class realized that the professor had already left the room with the online link for the syllabus written in chalk on the blackboard. They simmered down their mutually recognized tempers and begrudgingly shook hands, deciding to limit their interactions to that single day-that is until one day when Black Star tripped over her backpack, thirty minutes late into class, and begged her for a writing utensil.
It became an unsavory tradition that resulted in "boba bump days for the hump day" as a form of compensation for her generosity. There was no loss to this exchange, especially since she would have never said no to free milk tea on Wednesdays and because she always carried not one, not two, but three ready to go pencils at any given moment. So what if she became his walking supplies bag? At least a more savory friendship was born from it all. She watched a little as Black Star continued to reach into his bag, pulling out a small bottle of a powerful energy drink from the front pocket.
"How was your frat party?" Maka asked, not curious about the event itself but more so about his night.
"Loud. Couldn't read about Cambodian immigrants with all the distraction, so I joined them."
"Following a popular phrase is going to get you into academic probation."
He shot her a withering look but couldn't help but to fall for her taunting. "At least ya boy is graduating."
Maka heard his nonverbal reluctance. "If?"
"If," he continued, "you hand me my double shot espresso from Me-bucks… thanks… and if I pass 148 and 120 this semester." She watched carefully as he uncapped the lid of the drink that she'd picked up for him. It was already lukewarm per his request, but she didn't question his tastes- especially after Maka's attempt at food pranking him went horribly wrong. He lifted the edge to his mouth and chugged a third of the cup in front of her before putting precariously between his lap. "I will, though. I have a plan."
"You never have a plan."
"No, you never have a plan. I do this time and trust me, it surprises me too."
"That makes me less keen to find out what this plan could possibly be."
Black Star chuckled, uncapping both energy drinks simultaneously. "Have a little faith, starlight."
Her eyes widened when she realized what he was scheming just moments before all of the contents were poured together into the Starbucks cup. "Don't," she warned, eyeing where the Advil was going next.
The professor called the class' attention just when Black Star whispered, "I'm going to die." And he downed every last drop of his concoction along with the pill.
Neither of them sat through five minutes into their review session, partly because Black Star was physically unable to keep still after the caffeine kicked in, and also because the professor forgot to download his Word document into his flash drive in the first place. To describe his state as anything other than "starry-eyed" would have used too many words. They both spent the rest of their dead week in Maka's apartment, one nursing the headache of the century and the other who was actually the headache of the century. At least he scored an extension on his finals for all of his classes, right?
Written for MaStar Week 2017 Day 1 Starry Eyed