Prompt #27: Foreign

Rating: PG-13

When Zephyr first perused the room assignments for the year, he'd taken one look at the name Mikhail Marinov and immediately pictured some six foot three platinum blonde with a build and disposition to rival that of Kieron's. Obviously a transfer then – those types tend to stick out, even in a Men's College filled to the brim with alpha males. Zephyr was nothing if not flexible. He took care to occupy a smaller corner than usual, keep his somewhat large collection of hair products in a box under his bed, and made a resolution to clean his curly copper strands out of the drain periodically. He knew better than anyone how… breakable… he really was. He was on his own here, the rest of his friends having opted for Alexander.

So when the door opened the afternoon before classes began, and those fine cheekbones, deep-set gray-blue eyes, porcelain-pale complexion fitted over a five foot six frame peered into the room, he was extremely confused. That smooth voice – flawless English – was more of a tenor than the growly baritone he'd prepared himself for. "Zephyr Frost?" – then rolling two suitcases in through the door and waiting expectantly.

He hoped he didn't look as confounded as he sounded. "You're Mikhail Marinov?"

The newcomer nodded, smiling rather stiffly, before settling into the unclaimed half of the room. And Zephyr couldn't help but stare. His new roommate had to be the very poster-child of androgyny. He was most certainly the prettiest boy this side of the date line. Had they not been attending Vaughn, he would be convinced that he was in fact a she. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed now about his very rude reaction. "Hey, I'm sorry. It's just-" he swallowed thickly when those great blue eyes turned to regard him "-I kind of expected a much… bigger guy. Like Russian mafia. With tattoos. Bald, maybe…" he knew he was rambling and turning red. "And I'm really sorry for, you know, working the stereotype, but you're really the last thing I expected so-"

Mikhail's laughter cut him off abruptly, and he was surprised at how light it sounded. "Chill, I got it a lot, growing up." He dumped a pile of textbooks onto his bed. "From my dad's side of the family anyway. They're pretty tall people, being Bulgarian. I take after my mum's half, mostly."

Zephyr scratched at his head self-consciously, hoping he wasn't being too forward. "Is your, um, other half Asian by any chance?"

"Yep, my mum is Japanese. Odd mix isn't it."

"I think you turned out, um, just fine." He coughed uncomfortably, averting his eyes to stare out the window instead. Geez, Z, way to make things awkward with the person you'll be living with for the next two years…

Something flashed in his peripheral vision, and he ducked the flying socks out of instinct. At his questioning gaze, Mikhail shrugged and went back to unpacking his clothes with a calmness that must have been born from practice. "You're making me uncomfortable, so stop acting like that. I've been quizzed like this my entire life, and I don't expect it to stop anytime soon."

Zephyr found himself staring dumbly again. "Yeah, okay."

"Good, now toss my socks back. Tell me about yourself."

"Oh! Um, there's not much to tell." Zephyr realized he was still clenching the rolled up cotton in his fist. "Uh, four older siblings; brothers were Vaughn boys as well, and Elena attended Emery…" As he uncurled his fingers to drop them on his roommate's bed, he caught a glimpse of a distinctive black outline and big red bow – "Is that- Are your socks Hello Kitty?"

His eyes shot up in time to see Mikhail's face turn a deep crimson as he grabbed the offending item and stuffed them under his shirts. "My mum's Japanese. It happens," he muttered under his breath.

Blinking at his squirming roommate, Zephyr suddenly felt mirth bubble up in his chest. And despite himself and his very warm face, Mikhail found the corners of his mouth turning up.

"What kind of a name is Zephyr anyway?"

The months passed quickly, a blur of assignments and exams. Vaughn was one of the last colleges in the New Millennia that still taught medicine and engineering of the Old World, and it came at a cost. None of the new technology was allowed within the school walls. Here, humans did the grounds work, paper work, cooking, teaching. It was challenging, exhausting, but here, the best minds of the Millennia were cultivated; here he felt alive. Or much like a masochist, headache in full force, lying face down on his bed after the very last of their mid-semester exams, the thrill of impending freedom rushing like ice through his veins. Glancing over at the mountains of books and paper on both their tables, then at his roommate collapsed in a chair, he could tell Mikhail felt the same.

"Our family's been around for a while. Eventually, you run out of boys' names."

His roommate snorted. "So Cassius, Elena, Romero, Constantine and Zephyr." He straightened with a groan. "I hope you all gave your parents hell for that."

He laughed despite the pain in his temples. "Elena? – not so much. But yeah, it's a little much." He watched Mikhail nimbly get to his feet.

"Four un-conscripted boys in the family – your parents must be wealthy."

"Not really. Only Cassius is married so far, and Elena's been offered a high bride price which should even things out." But it was true. Wives did not come without a cost anymore, with the government's scheme to cut divorce rates. "And I hope to earn my own, after Vaughn." If I don't turn out to be gay…

Mikhail looked at him curiously, but didn't comment, choosing instead to return hazardously-strewn textbooks back onto shelves. He could see the expanse of his back as he struggled with the books. His skin was almost translucent in this light, stretched tight over prominent, fine bones; he could probably trace those pale blue veins with his fingers if he got close enough. He shook himself and rolled over to face the wall. "Hey, toss me that bottle beside my lamp, would you?"

"The blue one?" It landed against his shoulder. "Don't take too many. There are probably interactions with all that caffeine you've been swigging."

He grunted, downing two dry. What interactions.

The sky was gray when he next cracked open his eyes, roused by the urge to pee. He spared the window another glance as he stumbled out of bed. Typical of it to be raining on the very first day of break. His head was still spinning as he felt his way along the line of tables, the odd chair, rounding the corner to the bathroom. He wondered where Mikhail was. Usually his roommate would have called a warning by now, as he turned too late and walked into the bookshelf, wincing. The light and the running water didn't register until his hand nudged the bathroom door open a crack and the waif in the shower caught his attention. His eyes widened, and in the dream-like haze, he almost thought he could see water sluicing through dark cropped hair, and over narrow shoulders and small, pale breasts and a nipped waist and legs that were taut and slim and unmistakably, undoubtedly, indisputably female.