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  “Yeah, sorry…I got caught up.”

  Ajay tilts his head, clearly waiting for further elaboration, but Marcus doesn’t offer any additional information. Ajay doesn’t need to know how Marcus woke up to a burst pipe in the bathroom, and then had to spend thirty minutes arguing with his super as to why this was unacceptable.

  Eventually Ajay nods, dropping his feet to the floor and gesturing to the chair next to him. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Just text me next time you’re running late so I know you aren’t being mugged or run over by the shuttle or something.”

  Marcus winces. “Yeah, I…I’m sorry. I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to…I can just leave if you’re—”

  “Marcus! Chill!” Ajay rummages through his backpack, pulling out a bag of Sour Patch Kids. “It’s no biggie. I had plenty of articles to read on DNA polymerases while I waited. Sexy stuff, right? Figured out what I was fucking up in my paper, actually, so I should be thanking you for being late.”

  He holds out the bag of candy, but Marcus shakes his head, sitting down and pulling his laptop and textbook out of his bag. His stomach still feels queasy, even though Ajay doesn’t seem to be mad at him. He tries hard to keep his breathing steady and his expression neutral. Fake it till you make it, he supposes.

  Marcus clears his throat as he opens his laptop. “You can thank me profusely in your paper’s abstract. Dedicate the whole thing to me, if you like.”

  “I’ll write you a love sonnet in the footnotes,” Ajay says, smirking. He frowns, tilting his head inquisitively. “Chem’s one of your mandatory classes, right? What’s your major, then?”

  “Psych.” Marcus fights the urge to start drumming his fingers against the desk. He dares to hope that Ajay won’t ask any more questions, but those hopes are soon dashed.

  “Psych, huh? Cool. You wanna be a psychiatrist or an academic?”

  You’ve got a brilliant mind, Marcus. You could do great things in academia. You just need some coaching. It’s a cutthroat culture, extremely difficult to navigate, especially for someone like you. You’re lucky, having someone like me to help you find your footing.

  Marcus shrugs. “Neither. Just stumbled into it. I’m probably just going to get a job when I graduate, you know? No more school for me. Gotta pay the bills, not create them.”

  “That’s legit,” Ajay says, nodding. “You’ve probably got the right idea. I’m thinking about med school, but you know…so much more school…ugh, right?”

  Marcus wrinkles his nose, as though the thought of continuing education is not at all enticing. “Yeah, gross. No thanks.”

  “Yeah, my parents are torn. Dad wants me to be a doctor, but Ma’s holding out hope that I’ll be the first Desi quarterback in the NFL.” Ajay grins, ruffling his hair. “Guess I’ll have to do both.”

  Marcus snorts derisively. “Sure. At the same time, right? That’s what you can say in your interviews, that you’re using your million dollar endorsement checks to pay your way through med school.”

  Ajay snickers. “Honestly though, you seen tuition fees lately? I’d need a fuckin’ Nike deal every year to pay for that shit!”

  “For real,” Marcus agrees with a smile. “Dad was so relieved when my scholarship transferred over. He’s always worrying about…”

  Marcus? It’s Dad…just calling to see how New Jersey’s treating you. I know you’re busy, but I’d love to come down and see you, once you’re settled, and…I just want to know that you’re…if you need anything…I don’t know. I never know what to say to you. Your mother was always the one who…you know. Said things. I just…I love you. Always have, always will, no matter what. Just call me back, okay? When you have time.

  “Marcus?”

  Marcus blinks, realizing that Ajay is staring at him, one eyebrow raised. He responds quickly, before Ajay can ask too many questions.

  “Sorry, I guess I spaced. My dad worries about everything, I guess. Moms died my freshman year of high school. Cancer. So he…he’s still not really over it.” Perfect. Just enough personal information with a dash of gloom to satisfy Ajay’s curiosity.

  “I’m sorry, man.” Ajay leans over to squeeze Marcus’ shoulder. “That sucks. Must have been hard.”

  “It’s fine,” Marcus lies. “She wasn’t going to get well. She’s in a better place.”

  Ajay looks skeptical, but before he can open his mouth to ask any more questions, Marcus quickly changes the subject.

  “Is this Divine? The song, I mean.”

  Ajay perks up as he grabs his phone and turns up the volume. “Nah, it’s Naezy. He collabs with Divine a lot though, so that’s probably why it sounds familiar. You into Desi hip hop? It’s not really mainstream yet. The good stuff, I mean.”

  “Yeah,” Marcus says, nodding. “It’s cool that they’re moving past all that Vanilla Ice poser shit. Telling their own stories.”

  Ajay grins. “Exactly! And their beats are sick. Real shit, you know? I mean, not like I’m a music snob. I’ve got my share of Rihanna on my Spotify.”

  “Bullshit!” Marcus rolls his eyes. “Anyone who doesn’t have Rihanna on their Spotify is not allowed to call themselves a music snob.”

  “Damn straight!” Ajay holds out his fist, and Marcus bumps his own against it, feeling much cheerier and calmer than when he first sat down.

  After some further discussion on how many Adele songs a person can have on their Spotify before it gets embarrassing, they manage to start on Marcus’ chem homework. Marcus isn’t surprised to find that Ajay knows his shit, but he is surprised at how well Ajay is able to clarify concepts and explain what the hell is going on with the equations in his homework.

  Marcus has just mastered covalent bonds when the door to the study room vibrates as someone pounds on it from the other side.

  “Ajay? You in there? I actually don’t care if you are or not, I’m coming in.”

  The door swings open and Sebastian strides in, slamming the door shut behind him and dropping into a chair with a casual gracelessness that Marcus does not find attractive at all.

  “Sorry to interrupt. I mean, not really, but in the name of politeness and all that.” Sebastian frowns, folding his hands behind his head and looking over at Marcus. “How’s the studying going?”

  “Really great,” Marcus says dryly. “Good thing you interrupted when you did. I was learning too much.”

  Sebastian sniggers, leaning back in his chair. “I’m skeptical. Jackass here couldn’t even read the toaster oven instructions, and he—”

  “Fuck you!” Ajay throws his pencil at Sebastian’s head, who catches it easily in one hand, laughing. “That toaster oven was a piece of shit! Be glad I got rid of it.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’m eternally grateful that I have to eat cold bagels because they don’t fit in the regular toaster.” Sebastian throws the pencil back at Ajay.

  Ajay ducks, letting the pencil fly past his head and clatter to the floor. “Why are you even here? I’ve gotta see your ugly mug enough during the day. You trying to bring it up to 24/7 annoyance officially?”

  “Pfft! Like I’d want to see more of you. I forgot my keys. Need to borrow yours so I can get home and delete all your shit off the TiVo before Chopped comes on.”

  Sebastian turns to look at Marcus, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Seriously though, are you good? You picking up on stuff? Because I’m happy to help if this shithead is being annoying.”

  Marcus returns the smile, hoping that the way his eyes keep flickering towards Sebastian’s chest, which his t-shirt is stretched tightly across, goes unnoticed. “Nah, I’m good. Ajay is a great teacher actually. Not that he isn’t also a shithead.”

  “Obviously.” The smile on Sebastian’s face widens. “Glad to hear it, though.”

  “Why?” Marcus bites his tongue, cursing himself for not being able to bite back his honest wonder as to why Sebastian Lockwood would give a shit about some random like him.

  Sebastian raises on
e eyebrow. “I mean, I’m glad to hear that Ajay isn’t a total fuck up. That means odds are good that Blair won’t dump his ass and leave me to clean up the mess. And Blair likes you. She knows her shit. If she says you’re cool, then you’re cool.”

  Marcus smirks. “In that case, is she correct in saying you’re shit at Call of Duty?”

  Sebastian sits up abruptly, scowling. “What the…no! She’s a fucking liar on that account. She cheats! That’s the only reason why she wins, I can…ugh, hang on…”

  Sebastian pulls his vibrating phone from his back pocket, frowning as he scrolls through his texts. “Shit. Shit. We’ve gotta bounce.”

  “The fuck are you talking about?” Ajay asks, wrinkling his forehead.

  Sebastian’s gaze flickers over to Marcus for a moment before focusing on Ajay. “We. Have. To. Go. Now.”

  Ajay presses his lips together. “And I’m telling you, I. Am. In. The. Middle. Of—“

  “It’s a family thing.”

  Marcus’ eyes widen as Ajay stands up suddenly, nearly knocking his chair over. “It’s happening? He’s finally…”

  “Yeah. Dumbass finally wised up.”

  Ajay looks over at Marcus, chewing on his lower lip. “Look, I’ve gotta go take care of something, but text me if you’ve got questions. I’ll be around.”

  Marcus shrugs, stuffing his laptop and textbooks back into his messenger bag. “It’s fine, you’ve helped plenty already. I think I’ll be good. You don’t have to keep doing this.”

  “I don’t have to do anything,” Ajay says as he slings his backpack over his shoulder, “but I want to do this. This shit’s interesting to me.” He grins, punching Marcus on the shoulder gently. “Sorry man, we’re friends now. Deal with it.”

  Sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “My deepest condolences. Once Kumar’s got his claws in you, there’s no escape.” He smirks at Marcus, but relaxes into a genuine smile when their eyes meet. “We’ll see you around, yeah? Might have to invite you over for some gaming and kick your ass. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

  Marcus manages a small smile as he makes his way towards the door. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good. I’ll text you.”

  He heads towards his apartment, trying not to think about whether or not Ajay and Sebastian were telling the truth about wanting to hang out. He doesn’t think either of them would bother lying, but you never know.

  People lie all the time. Especially when you don’t expect them to.

  Marcus enters the lobby and makes his way up to the third floor, wrinkling his nose at an unappealing smell in the stairwell. As he unlocks his front door, he notices that his doorknob is loose, but decides against calling the super again. Marcus doesn’t want to hear any more snarky comments about how this place ain’t the Ritz, son, but it’s nicer than a lot of places you’ll find around here. Marcus had struggled not to roll his eyes at that.

  Marcus’ stomach is still feeling queasy, so he decides on oatmeal for dinner. As he stirs oats and almond milk together in a pan, he grabs his bottle of anxiety meds from the windowsill, shaking the bottle for a moment before putting it back down without opening it. This is his last refill, and he’s in between psychiatrists right now. He’s been halving his dosage to make it last, but he’s only got a few pills left.

  He frowns as his phone buzzes with a new text. He contemplates ignoring it until after he’s choked down his oatmeal, as it’s probably just his dad, who’s been the only person texting him regularly since…everything in Boston went down. Still…it could be Blair with a band question, or Ajay with some chem advice, or even Sebastian, wanting to meet up. He had mentioned getting together, and…

  Marcus pushes that thought from his mind as he turns off the stove burner and picks up his phone. He scrolls to his messages, expecting to see an incorrectly used acronym or emoji from his dad, or an all-caps rant from Blair about some asshole who cut her off on the way to the grocery store.

  He’s not at all prepared to see his old roommate, Pete’s, name pop up.

  Pete: hey man…i just wanted to let u know that im sorry. i know ive said it before but honestly i didnt know what would happen and i never meant for u to get hurt.

  Pete: maybe u need more time still but i miss talking to u. so u know im sorry, ive said it enough times, and i hope one day u can forgive me. message me any time, hope ur doing well.

  Marcus blinks, gripping his phone tightly as he struggles to breathe.

  Marcus, I have to say that I honestly did not expect for you to act like this. You’ve always been a model student, and it pains me to have to do this to you—

  His phone drops from his shaking fingers, which are starting to go numb as he threads them through his tight curls.

  —but we’re going to have to ask you to leave the University. We understand that you have some, er…health problems—

  Breath in, one, two, three, breathe out, one, two three, slower, slower, fucking slower already—

  —and we strive to be inclusive and accommodating, but there is really no excuse for your behavior. We must consider the safety and comfort of the other students, as well as our faculty and staff, of course.

  Marcus’ chest is tightening as he sinks to the floor, shivering and soaked in sweat. He’s dying, he knows this for certain, the fucking breathing exercises don’t work when you can’t breathe, and he’s positive that his heart is about to explode out of his chest and he can’t—he can’t—

  He just can’t.

  Marcus closes his eyes, knowing that this will pass, it always does, except what if this is the time that it doesn’t, but he tries not to think about that as he curls his knees up to his chest, gripping them clumsily with his numb fingers. Maybe this will pass, maybe it won’t, but either way, there’s nothing Marcus can do about it, there’s never anything that he can do about it, not any of it—

  I’m sorry Marcus, but the decision is final. There’s nothing you can do to overturn it. It’s what’s best for everyone, you have to believe me. You just have to focus on moving on, starting over. Things will get better. You’ll see.

  Chapter 3

  Blair: ur coming tonite right?

  Marcus frowns down at Blair’s text as he takes a swig from his water bottle. He’s not sure how to reply. On one hand, it might be fun to hang out with someone other than his Sims, but on the other hand, leaving the house and having to interact with people…ugh.

  Marcus: idk i mean…i’ve got better offers. netflix just added six new documentaries

  Blair: dont even front like ur not gonna binge watch stranger things for like the 38463th time

  Marcus: don’t even front like you’re not weak for winona ryder’s EMOTIONS in that damn show

  Blair: im hella weak for winona ryder’s everything, always, u know this

  Marcus: sames

  Blair: dont change the subject tho! u gotta come! its a team party Marcus. these fuckers know how to have fun!

  Marcus: i hate having fun

  Blair: ur full of shit. ur always dragging me off on pizza hunting adventures at 3am so dont even!

  Marcus: new phone who dis

  Blair: thats so old. i fuckin hate u. see u tonite <3

  Marcus sighs, stuffing his phone back into his running holster and stretching out his quads before starting the run back to his apartment. He’s probably screwed. Ajay has been pestering him to meet up outside of school stuff for the past two tutoring sessions, and Marcus has been dodging his invites, but he’s finding it harder and harder to say no. Ajay is just so earnest. He acts as though he genuinely wants to spend his time in Marcus’ company. It’s weird.

  As Marcus makes his way from the clean, pretty park back to his shitty apartment, he squares his shoulders and focuses his gaze on the road ahead of him, making his way past the neighboring building which seems to house a continuous stream of imported redneck assholes.

  “Hey! Hey! Whatcha doing here, G? You lost? You gotta turn around, homie, this ain’t Newark!”

&
nbsp; Marcus grits his teeth as he runs past them, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing him irritated. As he makes his way up the rank stairwell to his apartment, he sighs dejectedly. There’s no way around it; this apartment is shit. He misses his room at home. Shit, he even misses his clinically pristine dorm in Boston. At least his dorm room smelled like Pete’s dirty socks. Here, the source of the stink is a constant unknown.

  Blair: seb says he got u the reyka vodka u like. gay af.

  Marcus snickers to himself, but his heart sinks a little. Sebastian is some sort of queer-baiting demon sent up from hell to tempt him. Sebastian is smart, snarky, hot as fuck, and just flirty enough to ping Marcus’ gaydar while still being aloof enough to convince Marcus that all of their chemistry is a fantasy that he’s concocted in some sort of depressing gay fever dream.

  He pours himself a glass of orange juice and takes a sip as he sits down at the kitchen counter. It’s only ten in the morning. He’s got twelve hours to agonize over whether or not he’ll go to the party before he ultimately ends up burrowing under his covers and zoning out on Twitter for the rest of the night while feeling guilty about bailing.

  Then again…this is his chance to start over, isn’t it? No one here knows anything about Marcus, not about his health, or his mistakes, or him. It’s a little daunting, having to build new relationships and make new connections, having to worry about when (and it is most definitely when, not if) these new people will decide that he’s not worth it and bail.

  But it’s exciting, too, these new possibilities. Marcus decides to latch onto that feeling as he texts Blair back definitively before he can talk himself out of it.

  Marcus: hope he bought 2 bottles bc its been a long ass week and im bout to get lit

  Marcus goes to drop his empty glass into the sink before grabbing his meds off the windowsill. He’s got a full prescription, for a change. His new psychiatrist might be an unhelpful asshole who seems creepily over-interested his sexuality, but she writes the correct scripts, and that’s all Marcus requires at this point in time.