AN: You know the drill. I don't own any of it.
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September 8, 1986
I stood outside the door, my backpack slung over one shoulder and my suitcase sitting to my right. I'd only seen a small portion of the campus and I was already completely overwhelmed. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a paper I'd already looked at five times as if I was expecting the room number to change. D13. I was in the right place.
Due to limited space this semester, they had been rooming a lot of the first-time students with returning students, if the upperclassmen approved. My roommate was graduating in the spring: a senior. I wondered if he really just didn't care or if he wanted to jump at the opportunity to have a weak little freshmen at his mercy twenty-four hours a day.
"Come on, Mark," I whispered to myself. "This isn't high school anymore. Ass hole seniors don't exist here. Now, all you have to do is open the door." After a few more moments of hesitation, I reached for the doorknob, only for it to be opened from the other side.
A young black man stood in front of me in a light sweater and slacks. He was a few inches taller than me and looked much more athletic. "Are you just gonna stand there, kid, or are you gonna stop being so paraniod and make yourself at home?
I widened my eyes in shock, and perhaps a little fear. "Um...what?"
He smiled and shook his head. "I heard you walk up here like, five minutes ago. I was just waiting for you to open the door yourself or something, like a normal person. Then I remembered you're new meat." He grabbed my suitcase and stood to the side of the door. "Come on in, man. I only bite girls, I swear."
I stared at him a moment longer, then realized he had made a joke. Chuckling awkwardly, I stepped inside and sat down on the bed that looked like it was unclaimed.
The first thing I noticed about the room was how small it looked for a space that was supposed to be the main living area for two people. It was barely the size of my bedroom back home.
My roommate started pointing to different areas of the room, the best version of a 'tour' the lack of space allowed. "That's the mini-fridge, desk, record player, and the TV. I brought my Nintendo if you wanna play games." His eyes fell down to my hands. I followed his gaze and noticed I was twiddling my fingers.
He sighed and sat down across from me on his own bed. "Look, kid, calm down. I know, it all seems big and scary right now, but trust me. The only real trick is balancing your work and your play. Oh, and when you buy food, always look for sales cause whatever money your parents might be sending you, it ain't gonna be enough. The rest is basically common sense. Don't worry, I'll show you around. So, any questions so far?"
I looked down at my hands again nervously. "Well, I was wondering...is this...anything like high school?"
"You mean freshmen getting their asses kicked on a regular basis?" I nodded. "Not usually, but if anyone gives you trouble," he pointed to his chest "just tell 'em your my boy. They'll leave you alone. Anything else?"
I licked my lips and thought a moment. "Uh, yeah, actually."
He lifted his hand, gesturing for me to go on. "Alright, shoot."
I looked up at him, confused. "What the hell is your name?"
A look of realization crossed his face and he began laughing. It was full, melodious, and infectious. I felt myself following suit. "God, I feel like an ass." He said, standing up and extending his hand to me in greeting. "Benjamin Coffin III. You can call me 'Benny', though."
I took it and gave what I hoped was a firm, confident shake. "Mark. Mark Cohen," I said, doing my best Sean Connery impression.
Benny let out another chuckle. "Don't worry, Mark. You're gonna be okay."