Chapter Six
Alexandr Miroslav
I don’t remember much, but I do remember mumbling something about feeling sick and slipping away. Paris’ screeching about wasting their time sounded faintly in the back of my mind, but I don’t think I paid her much attention.
I only came back to a vivid level of presence when I stood soaked in the middle of my dorm.
I didn’t find myself there in the blink of an eye.
No, I was sure I was well aware of how quickly my body moved in the rain, how my key, sharp and cold, felt in my palm when I took it out to unlock my door.
I was even thinking about how cold I was, and how much I wished I’d stayed for dinner.
But there was also another thread of thought stirring somewhere deeper; if I delved into the fissure I hadn’t known existed in my mind, maybe I’d find it.
It spoke in harsh tones and spikes of fervor, rather than words. Betrayed by Mr Browne, angry at the apprehension I’d have to wear like a second skin because of Rain Atlas Jett, but most of all, afraid of what the next few months would shape to look like.
As if a marionette, I moved to the bathroom where I’d stripped and entered the shower.
It wasn’t the stained-yellow tiles and low water pressure shower I was used to, and yet I couldn’t find peace in the upside change.
The tiles were stark white and practically glowing from how clean they were, and the drain didn’t hint at the possibility of cockroaches making their way out.
I dried myself and changed into the loungewear I was provided with when I finished, only then did I notice the embroidered ‘CH’ in cursive along the top corner. I forwent rolling my eyes and found a towel to clean the puddle of water in the middle of my room.
Watching the soft, white texture soak up the rainwater made me feel guilty for using something that clearly wasn’t bought at a big-box store and didn’t deserve to be used to wipe down the floor.
It was dark before I’d noticed, the rain having stopped somewhere between the start of my shower and the end of it. The Victorian lamp posts outside illuminated the dark path to campus and sent faint yellow light through the interstices of my window.
For a moment, I felt like I’d been sucked into a Dostoevsky novel.
The eerie and quiet atmosphere caused a small chill to slither down my back, and I half expected to find a dark figure standing under the glow just outside my window before disappearing into the fog.
Leaving me to scratch at my throat and force out the strangled breath.
I was a few floors up, of that I was grateful.
Only, not by much.
I think it was a fit of arrogance that led me to open the window. The icy air that seemed to fall over the slight hill we were on, assaulted me before I’d thought of adding an extra layer. But I decided against it, risking the cold for just a moment of peace.
How contradictory.
I reached for the pack and lighter I’d hid behind the bedside drawer last night and pulled out a cigarette. Lighting it and breathing in the nicotine like it was my first proper breath since I’d gotten here.
In a way, it was.
I sat on the ledge of the open window and watched the slightly illuminated lawn, freshly mowed of course, disappear under the low fog.
It wasn’t envy I was feeling, of the life these people around me had lived and will go on to have.
I accepted the cards I'd been dealt a few years back. In fact, the life I was living was a constant reminder. Only, I didn’t know if I wanted to keep on surviving.
Why would I?
What was the point of it all? Of the running, hiding, stealing, and hurting. Deep down, I knew it was because I was warping myself into a fantasy of a better life. Of a light at the end of the tunnel.
Every stab I’d taken, every drug I’d stolen. They were all steps I needed to take in order to reach my end. In a way, it was as if I was writing my own story, like the ones I read about with the trials the narrator must undergo to reach their happily ever after.
Except, unlike those books, with goals and missions, I didn’t know where time was taking me. I didn’t plan, nor did I ever prepare checklists. I only hoped that by the end, I was satisfied with my final destination.
I exhaled the smoke as it twisted and vanished with the calm breeze.
Maybe the fatigue was getting to me.
I sat there for a while, time passing without my notice. My stomach growled and ate at the hollowness inside. Empty since lunch; my heavy limbs were proof of my neglect. I was used to going hungry but the food I’d witnessed, the aroma coming off the different platters, only added to the ache.
I threw out the cigarette and was prepared to call it a night when I spotted a figure returning to the same building–Fourth Quarter.
I watched them appear from the fog and walk with their head down. It wasn't until they moved under a closer lamp post that I came to recognize them.
August. The boy who’d been, upon my arrival, pressed against the hallway and ridiculed by his peers.
He was a strange one, that one. What he lacked in wealth, he made up for in tongue and lip. He was smart, I’ll give him that.
One of the smartest students, academically that is, in Castle Hill. Which, considering he was a scholarship student, should’ve been obvious.
However, only having spent a day here, I found that August wasn’t picked on because of his status, but rather because he didn’t know when to subdue himself.
All day during the limited classes we shared, he’d roll his eyes at someone who proved to be less than stellar on a topic or throw a snide remark if a student asked a ‘dumb question’.
I was going to feel bad for calling him an idiot yesterday, but tonight I only pulled out another cigarette from the pack and rolled it between my fingers before leaning back against the window, watching August with a tilted head.
I wonder how long he’ll go before breaking down.
Before tiring of the endless cycle, he found himself running loops in with close to no reward.
Obligated to keep his grades pristine, and getting ridiculed for the skewed pride in his hard work.
I hadn’t realized I’d been found out until I refocused with a blink and found August staring back at me. I almost startled before forcing my muscles to release any tension they’d built up.
He was looking up from under the glow of the lamp post. It was dark, and I couldn’t see his face clearly, but something told me he wore a smile.
Not wanting to be caught staring longer than I should have, I leaned back into my dorm in search of a makeshift ashtray to avoid any more unintentional window stalking.
Padding into the bathroom, I grabbed the first thing I’d laid my eyes on, which happened to be the soap tray, before emptying its contents into the sink and returning to my room, placing it on my nightstand.
I was planning on staring at a wall until I decided to fall asleep, unless sleep found me first, but a knock at my door interrupted the mental outline of how I was going to spend the rest of my evening.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, and it was far too late for any more surprise appointments. I glanced to the side and watched, in the dark of my room, the shadow at the bottom of the door shuffling from one foot to the other.
A student, I guessed.
I put away the cigarette that’d been balanced between my lips before shuffling closer at the sound of another set of knocks. Upon opening the door only a crack and peeking through, I found August.
He looked up at the sound and smiled his cheeky grin. “Hi–”
I closed the door.
“Oh, come on!” I heard his muffled complaint but couldn’t bother opening the door again. I needed peace of mind to think through the events of today.
Even without anything to ponder on, I really wasn’t looking for company.
Incessant knocks began pounding through the door.
At this rate, he’d wake the entire floor.
With a resigned hiss, I threw the door open and glared at the boy who was now knocking on air before quickly righting himself. “Get in, you ceaseless parasite.”
I grabbed his collar and pulled him into my dorm, going to close my door when the one in front of me opened. “What’s–”
Wolf Kingsley.
Wolf Kingsley’s dorm is facing mine, and his eyes widened when they met my own. It felt like looking into a mirror when our hands paused on our doorknobs, waiting for the other's next move.
Slowly, he rested his features and peered over my shoulder to August, who was dusting himself off like I’d thrown him into a mountain of hay.
I admit, there was no way I could explain myself out of this. Not that I needed to, let alone wanted to. I didn’t owe anyone anything.
My hand tightened into a fist, and I shifted my eyes from August to Wolf. Wolf to August.
It was August who spoke first, in a breathless huff, “Oh… Calm evening, eh, Wolf?”
The boy in question leaned against his doorframe with a raised brow, completely ignoring my presence. “It was, actually, until you decided to kick up a storm. Nothing entirely out of the ordinary.”
I peered into his dorm and found steam coming from the direction of his bathroom. One would assume he was taking a hot shower, but the steam was heavier, thicker. It almost looked like smoke.
Or… something entirely different.
Wolf must have caught me looking, because he straightened, covering my view, before closing his door and stepping closer to mine.
When I met his gaze, I found him watching me with a look of warning. To not ponder on what I’d seen or to not speak of it, I didn’t know.
But that only confirmed my suspicions.
The Quarter monitor wouldn’t be too happy to learn of any questionable behaviour on the second floor, and because I can pick a lock, Wolf would soon be dancing on my strings until I saw fit.
Though that would be hypocritical, considering I promised myself to stay under the radar and to mind my own business.
Wolf shuffled closer to my dorm with a kind smile he sent to August. “Planned a hangout?”