"There he is!" Curt shouted, peeking his head into the classroom.
Otto flinched heavily, scrambling to shove something into his backpack, but then stopping once he saw his friends, taking it back out. Curt squinted to see what it was. Looked like a ball of yarn?
Norman rubbed his head, shoving past Curt and throwing his stuff besides the table. The Physics Lab was usually quiet, decorated with tables with black tops (the kind you'd find normally in high school science classes). A few Bunsen burners lied here and there. There was an assortment of stools and rolling chairs. Norman went to grab a rolling chair, sitting himself across from Otto. Curt joined next to him, grabbing a stool.
"God, don't shout so loud," Norman groaned, rubbing his temples. "And what the hell is that?"
Curt looked up to see that Otto had knitting needles in his hand. The yarn was a dark burgundy color and he had already begun several rows of knitting, each stitch precise and intricate.
"What?" Otto asked, and Norman winced, resting his head on the tabletop. "You went to the party last night, didn't you?"
"Yeah. You should try it, grandma," Norman gestured to the knitting needles. "Gonna make me a cup of tea for this massive headache I have?"
"No," Otto simply replied, not taking his eyes on his work. He was deep in focus, his hands working quickly.
"Ignore him, Otto. But what's the knitting for?" Curt asked.
"It's a birthday gift for someone. I'm making them a beanie," Otto held it up for them to see, "I've been picking up knitting as a hobby and wanted to make something nice."
"Whatever you say, grandma," Curt joked, taking out a textbook and a notebook. "God, phylogenies are such a pain in the ass."
"I'm not a grandmother. Knitting is a respected hobby," Otto argued.
"Yeah, that's why I mostly see my grandmother doing it," Norman laughed, looking over at Curt's work. "Ah, who's your professor?"
"Burley."
"Fucking hated her. Biology is such a fucking waste of time. And you, my friend," he pointed to Otto, "need to get out and party more. He's been trapped up so long studying, he's aging before our eyes, Curt. Look at him. Pretty soon, he's gonna start yelling at kids to get off his lawn."
Curt laughed, "He's already got the attire for it."
Otto looked down at the turtleneck and khakis he was wearing. "Oh, shut up."
"You're the one entering your retirement years," Norman laughed, then grimaced in pain. "My head's fucking throbbing. Any of you got some Tylenol?"
Curt gestured to his bag. "Front pocket."
"Bless your soul, Curt."
"Thank the phantom pains."
"Bless your missing arm, then," Norman grabbed a handful and popped them into his mouth and dry-swallowed them. The other two only looked on in horror.
"You menace to society," Curt said in shock, "How?"
"Don't question it," Otto said, having completed two more rows during that whole scene. "Anyway, you said you're on phylogenies? Not too bad. Just gotta get the hang of it. It's mainly knowing the relationships that's a bit difficult. And she's an ok professor. Norman's exaggerating."
"Stop being a teacher's pet, grandma," Norman snickered, "No need to kiss her ass. She isn't here."
"I'm not. And watch the language."
"I told you, Curt, he's aging before us. Quick, what's your favorite type of juice? If you say prune, I'll lose my shit, I swear to God."
Otto ignored him and continued to knit faster.
Curt looked up from his book. "Osborn, stop bullying him. Be nice to your elders," he snickered.
"I swear to God, I'm not ever telling you guys anything."
"Now you sound like my grandfather. Son of a gun never told us anything."
"What is this, the 1960s? Say bitch, you coward," Norman spun around in his chair, using the table to make himself go faster.
"Do you have somewhere else to be an idiot, Osborn?" Otto groaned amid Norman's cackling as he spun.
"Not until 4, Squidward. Not until 4! And I'm surprised you knew that reference. I thought Spongebob was past your time."
"I swear to God," Otto fumed under his breath.
"Alright Osborn, stop it," Curt said, flipping a page. "Anyway, why did you get into knitting, Otto?"
Otto glanced up with such a look of murder. Curt raised his hand in surrender.
"Not joking this time. Just curious."
Otto relaxed slightly, his hands working mechanically while he talked. It was almost relaxing to watch, Curt realized, watching each stich loop up and then fall into line.
"Therapist recommended I take up a hobby to help my anxiety. Thought knitting was relaxing, so I grabbed some stuff from a Walmart and started on it. It's actually really nice, I do it for half an hour each day. And since my friend's birthday is coming up, I thought to make a beanie."
"You actually listen to your therapist?" Norman asked, "I just ignore mine."
"Explains a lot, Norm," Curt commented. "And it is sorta relaxing in a way."
"Eh, gives my hands something to do. It's either this or reading. And God knows I can't read," Otto added.
Norman pulled out a huge textbook and flipped to a page. "God I wish I was Jared, 19."
"You're actually doing work for once?" Curt asked. "Sound the alarms, Norman's entering his student arc."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Alright."
"Or I'll run your over with a tractor."
"We're in the city."
"I'll find my ways."
Otto continued to knit. "Do you think they'll like it?"
"No," Norman replied, scribbling down a formula and plugging in numbers. He got a calculator and punched in some numbers. "They'll dump it in the trash. And it's burgundy? Why burgundy?"
"Red is a nice color," Otto answered, "Represents a lot of things. Like roses, passion, life…"
"Would work great in a children's hospital," Curt snickered.
"A man of culture I see. I see blood, I see anger, I see…." Norman tilted his head, "Who's your friend, Otto?"
Otto stopped knitting. "You don't know them."
Norman got up, pushing his textbook aside. "Bullshit. We're your only two friends, Otto. And none of our birthdays are coming up."
"It's for family," Otto was deliberately avoiding eye contact now.
"Oh, you got a new one? Cause I thought yours were deadbeats."
"Norman, let it go," Curt snapped, "Didn't have to go that far."
"Nah, let him answer. Red. What a deliberate choice. What a deliberate color."
Norman jumped up from his chair and paced the room.
"Red represents strong emotions, so you feel strongly about this person. But you chose burgundy, the exact color of your turtleneck. So it's a deep emotional connection. You're giving them a part of you, so they can have you as a guardian whenever you two are separated. You're protecting this person with this piece of clothing. And it's handmade. So it's your hand protecting them, your watchful gaze. Cause you could have bought a beanie. But you didn't. And that is what interests me."
Otto stopped knitting. Curt merely stared in amazement.
"Holy shit, you went full English major on us, Norm. And you have a point."
"English major? English- Now it all clicks," Norman snapped his fingers, "It's for a girl, isn't it?"
The reddening in Otto's face gave away the answer. Norman jumped up.
"Success! I've cracked the case, Watson!"
He jumped back into his chair with a mad cackle. "Grandpa is in love! Grandpa is in love!"
Curt looked between Norman and Otto, who only became more flustered.
"Alright fine, it's true. It's for a girl," Otto said, "But you can't guess which one. There's hundreds of girls-"
"Rosie," Curt blurted out immediately without thinking.
The power a simple word had to shut up Otto. He only grew more red, having completely abandoned his project.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Curt said.
"You would have made fun of me. Hell, you're been basically calling me a boomer the whole time you've been here."
"Gross, who the fuck says boomer anymore? The joke's dead, old man," Norman said, still spinning in glee.
"Man, forget us. If this a girl, go get her," Curt said, "Rosie seems nice. Maybe she'll force you to come out of your shell. That sad, hollow shell of a sleep-deprived physics major."
"Thanks for the encouragement," Otto said sarcastically. "But I can't. She doesn't even know I exist. I've only seen her at the coffee shop. She only knows me as two shots of espresso, no sugar."
"God, Rosie's gonna have a lot of fixing to do," Norman joked.
"She isn't going to fix me. I'm not delegating her to that. She doesn't exist to make me whole. That's such a gross way of thinking," Otto snapped.
Norman stopped. "Damn. Hit a nerve there."
"Sorry. It's just… I really care about her. I think she's the one. With her amber eyes and that smile she has and her voice and her jewelry that seems so at odds with everything I stand for. She is chaos and I am order. Yin and yang. Physics and English. Otto and Rosie."
His eyes held a dream-like quality to them as a smile crept onto his lips. He then snapped out of it and saw his friends staring at him like he grew a third head.
"But never mind. It'll never work. I'll just keep knitting this beanie."
Curt and Norman both shared a glance.
"Come on, let's go," they both grabbed one of Otto's arms and dragged him out of the room, Otto fighting back in protest.
"Wait, it's not done-"
"Yeah, it is. You already finished the final stitch," Curt said. He saw someone walking down the hall.
"Hey, Eric."
"Hey guys," Eric waved.
"Mind watching our stuff? We're getting coffee. Midterms are a pain."
"Sure."
They made their way to the coffee shop and stood in line. Otto was sweating buckets.
"I forgot my wallet, we need to head back."
Norman pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to him.
"Here you go."
"Why do you have his wallet?" Curt asked.
"You think I pay for all my Red Bulls?"
They were next. Soon, they were face to face with her.
Otto immediately clammed up, holding onto the beanie for dear life.
Curt and Norman both groaned.
"Can I help you?" Rosie asked.
Curt shook Otto, but no response.
"When are you free from work?" Norman asked.
"I get off my shift in an hour."
"Hear that, Otto, an hour!" Norman shouted.
"He has a gift for you. He likes you," Curt whispered to her quietly.
She nodded. "I see. Yeah, I'll be free after my shift."
"Meet him in the Physics lab."
They left and Otto finally snapped back to reality.
"What the hell happened?"
"You have a date in about an hour with Rosie," Curt answered.
"What?"
"Come on, grandpa, do we have to explain dating to you?" Norman joked, "A date. D. A. T. E. With the girl of your dreams with the amber eyes."
"Really?"
Curt and Norman nodded.
Otto looked down at the beanie and chuckled nervously. Then he fainted.
The two men looked at each other. This was going to be hell.
