Emmett McCarthy's new roommate was wealthy.

Emmett hadn't had any nice things growing up in Chattanooga. His Pa was a delivery man for UPS, and his Ma worked as a teacher's aide for a Special Education class. He was the third of five brothers, none of them planned. Emmett couldn't afford nice things, but he was smart enough to know nice things when he saw them. Even his damned suitcases were nice – three, large, four-wheeled and brand-name. Emmett's lone suitcase was as old as his brother Dewey, and tearing at the seams.

Rooster one day, feather duster the next, Poppy used to say.

"Fuck me, this is smaller than a broom closet," he muttered when he entered. If was the first thing he said in front of Emmett.

Emmett, who had been secretly thrilled at the amount of space he'd get. The room was a five-by-five inside a red brick building. A half-wall partition split the room in two. Each got a desk, a massive wardrobe and a single twin bed. Back home, Emmett shared a queen-sized with Dewey.

"That's a college dorm room for you, son."

"Oh. Hey!" The father turned to Emmett once the suitcases were all inside. "Carlisle Cullen," he said kindly, holding out a hand.

The man looked tired, Emmett thought.

"Hiya," Emmett said warmly in greeting. "Emmett McCarthy."

"Nice to meet you. This is my son, Edward."

Rich kid was that. A kid. Sure, he looked like he worked out with some discipline, and he was tall -- not as tall as Emmett, but Em was a bear. He couldn't quite hide the panic or the discomfort in his eyes.

His mouth twisted into a dry, disdainful half-smile.

"Hey, man. Edward."

He shook Emmett's hand. He wore an expensive watch on his wrist.

"Great to meet'cha," Emmett grinned lightly, and the kid stumbled a bit when Emmett clapped his back.

Edward grunted.

Edward was a little prick, Emmett decided by their third day as roommates. He looked uncomfortable when Emmett mentioned he was from Chattanooga, Tennessee.

"Chatt -- a -- nooga," Edward enunciated carefully, brow wrinkling.

"Yeah, man. Home of the moon pie."

"Right," Edward said flatly, with a smile that looked like a cringe.

"Where are you from?"

"Chicago, originally. From Washington state, lately."

"That's way cool, man."

Edward shrugged.

"I got four brothers back home. Never moved out of Nooga. Started out with community college, then got scouted for Basketball. Me. Harvard. My folks were fucking floored. Hell, I was floored."

"Cool," he said stiffly.

It was the most Emmett got out of the kid for all of freshman orientation -- despite an enthusiastic "Morning, man!"

It was their second week. On his side of the room, Edward was grumbling to himself. He peered at Emmett through the wall he had fashioned out of desks and textbooks.

"I'm gonna make a call," he announced testily, in his typically stiff tone.

"Go nuts, man," Emmett shrugged, tossing a stress ball in the air. He'd made a ton of calls home and stripped with Edward in the room. That was how you rolled when you shared a room.

Edward glared irritably and curled back into his burrow. Emmett heard a teensy dial tone.

"Hi, Bee," he said, and his voice was warm. Warmer than Emmett had heard it in a whole week. Very, very gentle.

He chuckled deeply.

"I'm sorry it took so long. I've been meaning to call the whole week. It's just been busy as fuck."

"Yeah, darling. I miss you, too. Christ, you're the only thing I miss, I think. That, and a private toilet. Fuck me."

Darling, he'd say, and he would pronounce very syllable.

Emmett heard a sweet giggle.

"It's fucking gross. Fifteen bastards sharing five showers and five toilet stalls. You have to wear flipflops or you catch foot fungus. Like prison."

"Sorry, Bee. But it's fucking true."

"You're right, it is like the fucking lockers at school."

"No, boys top floor. Girls lower floor."

"Yeah. No, one roommate. Emmett? He's cool, yeah. There's some real dickheads."

"Haven't had any real classes yet, love. It's mostly professors going over syllabuses."

"OK, syllabi." Edward laughed softly, a deep belly laugh, and Emmett felt his dislike for the kid wash away.

"The intro classes are shit I already know."

"Yeah, I guess. You're right. It's so that everybody starts out on the same foot, I guess."

"They're not called majors. They're called concentrations."

"Yeah," Edward laughed. "Yeah, I agree, it's stuck up."

"I don't fucking know, Bee. Theres a shitton of things you can take. I'm trying shit out. I'm taking more classes than you're allowed and I'm gonna drop shit I dont like later."

"What's my favorite class...? Damn, I don't know yet, sweetheart." He sounded thoughtful, light, playful. Usually, when asked a question, the kid glared at the asker with disdain.

He switched gears, and he sounded concerned. Serious. "How are you?"

"Mmh. You're not lying?"

"And Yorkie? What is that cocksucker up to?" And at this, Edward's voice dripped with virulent anger.

"OK. Don't go being nice to him, Bella."

"And Lauren?"

Edward's voice turned, saturated with sadness and concern. "And lunch, darling? -- No, of course, not."

But I fucking worry, Bella. Yeah -- I'm focused on college, yeah. But -- don't fucking ignore me. What are you doing for lunch?"

He sounded crushed at her response, voice close to breaking. "And you're OK? You're OK with that?"

"You're my brave girl, Bee."

"No, I swear. I promise. I promise I don't. I'm 100% focused on school. I might try the swim team."

"Yeah, some assholes tried to get me to join. Final Clubs, or some shit. Yeah, they give me evil vibes. They make Tyler look like fucking Barney."

He laughed. "Yeah, the purple motherfucker."

"No, darling. It's not dangerous. They're just assholes. My grandma -- " Edward let out a laugh.

"Yeah, she introduced me to two of those shits. And we hung out in the Amalfi coast."

"Bells, it's not like the Talented Mr. Ripley."

Another laugh.

"Don't fucking worry about me, OK? I'll be fine."

"I love you, too."

"You hang up first."

"You're still on the line, Bell. Hang up. Yeah. Love you."

"Bye, darling."

"Yeah, I'm still taking them. Sleeping like a fucking baby, too."

Another laugh. "Did you like them? Yeah, I felt like a fucking pussy, but -- If you tell a single fucking souI sent you flowers, I'll kill you."

"Bye. Bye. Love you. Talk soon."

"Bye, darling." Low, gentle. Playful. Achingly sweet.

Edward re-emerged from his burrow. He looked at Emmett like he had forgotten him entirely. He eyed Emmett warily, with wasp-like, acid suspicion.

Emmett arched an eyebrow.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"Like hell. That your girl back home?"

"Not -- yes, I guess. My girl."

"I meant your girlfriend," Emmett pointed out.

Edward thought about it, long and hard.

"My best friend," he said finally.

End of Part I