High School Never Ends [AU][C]

Dick frowned as he stood outside the door. He glanced up at the room number on the door, then back down at the piece of paper. This was it. This was his room. The unfortunate one where the shitty music was playing on the other side.

"For fuck's sake," he murmured to himself.

A sigh came from him, followed by a deep breath as he unlocked the door and entered the room with a determined step.

It was empty.

The music, now he could hear it at full volume, was even more shitty than he first thought.

Letting out a tiny growl, he heaved his suitcase onto the free bed. Not the side he would have picked. He knew he should have arrived a few days earlier.

"I should unpack..."

But he couldn't with that shitty fucking music playing.

With a huff, he turned and made his way over to his roommate's side to destroy wherever it was coming from.

He couldn't help but be a bit nosy as he did. The posters on the wall he had to roll his eyes at. They were tacky. One possible bonus though, at least his roommate seemed to be neat. Then again, it has only been a few days since everyone started moving in. So that could all, frustratingly, change in a week.

Other then that, he had to somewhat appreciate the minimalistic aesthetic that was going on. Even if the dark bedding and leather cases weren't his taste.

His eyes landed on the device that was sounding that racket, and he switched it off.

Finally, he had peace.

Fleck was gagging for a coffee. He'd been sat sketching for hours already that morning, ignoring the world and the need.

Eventually, though, caffeine had won the battle and he'd packed away his sketchbook to go on a bear hunt. Knowing that it'd just be a quick run, he had left his music running.

He was fumbling with the key he stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans when he realised that his room was quiet. That wasn't right. His pierced brows drew together in confusion as he shoved the key in the door and turned it.

It was already unlocked.

He pushed open the door and stepped in.

There was someone there. A suitcase on the bed.

"Oh, hey! You're Richard, right? My roommate?" He kicked the door shut and toed off his boots, picking them up and immediately taking them to the little shoe rack he had next to his wardrobe. "I'm Fleck," he introduced with a friendly smile, setting the paper coffee cup on his desk.

Richard turned his head and froze, still on his roommate's side of the room.

From the music and the posters, he had already made up an image of what his roommate might look like; some kind of punk with tattoos, piercings and a wacky hairstyle. His new roommate definitely fit all those assumptions but not to the assumed extreme length.

Plus, he certainly didn't expect him to be hot.

Fleck was big. Not so much in height, but still had a few inches over him. Instead, he was broad. The black tank top he was wearing was showing off exactly how thick his arms were.

The beard was a nice touch. A very nice touch. The sleeve tattoo was surprisingly tasteful, too.

If someone were to show a photo of Richard's type, they may as well show a picture of his new roommate. Who he was sharing a room with. For a year.

Fuck.

Richard tugged on his lip. This pause had got too long and awkward. He had only nodded in response to his questions.

He had to make a good impression. Explain that he totally wasn't snooping a little. Tell him he just wanted to turn his music off for a bit of peace and quiet - that was the truth, after all.

"Your music was annoying me."

Fuck. Fantastic.

The silent staring was starting to get weird, but the blunt comment on Richard's part definitely eased up the air.

Fleck laughed, deep and full.

"Yeah, it does that to some people. Not your taste, huh?"

He could accept that some people didn't like his music taste. It was part and parcel of having a niche taste. No point getting upset about it.

He knew he'd definitely have to invest in a set of decent headphones now. His definitely weren't up for hours of listening at a time.

"So, travel far to get here?" he asked conversationally as he took up a seat in his desk chair and plucked up his coffee.

Rickard had thought he blown it with his comment. He had set up making enemies with his roommate from the start.

His shoulders loosened a little as Fleck laughed.

All was good. He hadn't made an enemy out of this hot, but also intimidating, man.

"No," he answered. Fleck probably wouldn't like his music, either.

He pushed a piece of hair behind his ear and made his way to his side of the room to unzip his bag to start unpacking.

"Getting here from England wasn't exactly a quick trip."

"England?"

Fleck pitched a low whistle.

"Shit, you've come even further than me." Fleck ran a hand through his hair, pushing the loose strands back out of his face.

Fleck himself had come from the East Coast himself. He couldn't get much further from his home in Jersey and still be in the same country.

"Liking it here in America so far? Or have we all pissed you off with our obnoxious shithead routine?" Having foreign family himself, he was intimately aware of the outside opinions of Americans. He agreed with a lot of them.

Richard took out some of the folded clothes to carefully lay them out on the bed as Fleck chatted.

He was friendly, which was, again unexpected. Plus he was chatty. Which Richard didn't know was better or worst. On one hand, they wouldn't have to live in awkward silence? On the other, it could get annoying very fast.

"I've only been here for what? Ten hours? Haven't exactly formed an opinion yet."

He pinched his shirt and shook it slightly.

"The heat is a little more unbearable then I imagined. Don't we get aircon in here?"

With a frown, he looked around the room.

"Just give it time," he assured jokingly.

Well, perhaps only half-jokingly. He was sure someone was going to piss him off with American obnoxiousness at some point.

Fleck clicked his tongue. "Only in communal areas. My suggestion is either dress lightly or move out into the living area permanently."

The rooms could get hot. He'd already figured his out in the past few days here. He was sure they were gonna get worse in the next couple weeks before it started to cool for winter.

Fleck had whittled down his wardrobe to his lighter shirts and tank tops for now.

"I already am."

The shirt was cotton, and the jeans were on the thinner side, light and stretchy. Perfect for an English summer... just not for the tail end of a southern American one for anyone not used to it.

Richard glanced over to Fleck. They had a decent sized window, at least. So hopefully it wouldn't get too stuffy, and they could keep it open at night to try and tempt in a breeze.

"And I don't want to spend too much time in the living area."

He could already tell it was loud and overly social, everyone overly excited about starting college. Not his cup of tea. It was draining.

Fleck's gaze turned slowly over the man in front of him.

He wouldn't exactly call that dressing lightly. But he supposed England had very different weather. 

He'd get used to the weather here eventually. It was just a matter of finding out how bad it got and adjusting accordingly.

"So far no-one I've met here seems too overbearing." There were a couple people that Fleck wasn't sure he'd spend much more time than he needed to around, but for the most part everyone seemed okay.

Fleck took a deep swig of his coffee then set the mug down, reaching out to the top storage box so he could withdraw his sketchbook and pencilcase again.

"We're art students," Richard replied back dryly.

There was sure to be a few pretentious, overbearing fucks around, with the added sprinkle of Americanism. Delightful.

Richard watched Fleck take out his sketchbook before going back to unpacking. It was mostly clothes in the suitcase and a select few art bits. The rest of his stuff would be coming in a day or two in boxes.

"What do you major in?" He asked, lifting up a shirt.

That needed to be ironed again.

"I did say so far," he shot back with the same dry amusement.

There were definitely going to be clashes. There was no way there wouldn't be. But so far the few people that he'd met were tolerable. That was enough for now.

"Ceramics and fine art."

He flipped open the sketchbook and took up darkening some shading on a sketch he'd started of his sister.

"You?"

"Always hated ceramics," he said with a wry smile. "but we share one common interest. I do fine art too, but with art history."

So he probably fell into the category of pretentious fuck.

He opened his wardrobe and began hanging things, ordered by colour.

"I'm also minoring in illustration, but I might drop it, after looking at my timetable."

"As long as you don't sabotage anything I do here you can hate it as much as you want." His lips quirked up into a teasing grin, removing any possible bite from the words.

He filled in some darker shading on Chai's lips carefully.

"Maybe we'll have some classes together." It was likely they'd have one or two together if they were both majoring in fine art.

Fleck hissed through his teeth sympathetically. "Heavy load, huh? Good luck."

"As long as you don't make a mess," he lacked the teasing tone. But a small smile did play on his lips at the suggestion of them having lectures together.

"Maybe even a studio space."

It would be nice to see a somewhat familiar face.

Or would it get super annoying being almost in the same room twenty-four seven?

On second thought, he hoped they weren't sharing a space.

"I'll see how the first week goes. I do like having more direction with an illustration brief."

Done with hanging, he picked up the wad of paper he had put on the bed and flicked through it.

"Take your timetable out now. We can see if we match up."

"Sir, yes, sir," he replied with teasing severity, even lifting his hand from steadying his sketchbook to give a firm salute.

He'd keep his mess to a minimum. He always did.

At the order - because it really hadn't been a suggestion - Fleck set his sketchbook down and pulled a corkboard from its place leaning against his desk. Pinned to the board with skull-shaped tacks was his schedule.

Skull-shaped tacks. He hadn't noticed them when being nosey. They were also tacky.

He leaned against the desk with one arm, instinctively reached for the top of his head only to grasp nothing. With a frown he leaned in forward, squinting as he looked at the paper in his hand then at the one at the wall.

"We have a nine am Monday lecture together."

At least they can suffer together.

"We also have one together... Thursday. In the afternoon this time. And a biweekly life drawing together Friday."

His eyes flicked up and down again.

"We have separate studio spaces."

Which he was now happy about. Give them room to breathe.

"Not too bad. We'll be seeing a bit of each other then."

He didn't mind that. If nothing else it meant that the two of them could bitch about their classes together and know what was going on.

Fleck nudged the corkboard back to its spot leaning against the end of the desk.

"As if we're not seeing for the rest of the time."

It was going to be a struggle.

Shame he couldn't afford the accommodation for house sharing instead of room sharing.

If he stayed in England he could have probably gotten one bed flat for himself.

He continued to lean on the table and glanced down at the sketchbook. He made a noise of interest.

"Can I look?" He asked, nodding down towards it.

"Uh, sure."

Fleck held out his sketchbook.

"This is only practise stuff. Sketches and some acrylic studies. Nothing amazing."

It showed the toils of his work, though. Each piece was rough, but not terrible. Clearly Fleck had skill with realism. He had a fine eye for detail in the sketches.

"I understand, fellow fine art student."

The tiny smile returned to his lips.

Taking the sketchbook, he leaned on the desk to flick through it. Silently. Occasionally he would make a small approving noise, or linger on a page.

"You have a real skill here," he said finally at the last few pages. "I like your portraits the most, and your conceptual stuff is interesting." The small smile on his face grew. "Would you like me to say the most annoying phrase to you?"

He sat back and watched Richard's reactions.

It was always interesting seeing how people reacted to his art. As far as reactions went, Richards' were pretty standard.

"Go on, say it." The way he spoke was like he was challenging Richard to actually say the words.

There was the temptation of blurting out; "Draw me like one of your French girls." Instead of joking about just drawing him for free in general.

Realisation hit too late. His cheeks flared up.

He had just blurted that out.

Fucking fuck.

Shit.

"I mean, not that you should," he quickly said, trying to rectify the situation, and not let on that he had started crushing on this guy as soon as he walked through the door. "Not like I go that way, anyway."

He let out an awkward laugh.

Well, he certainly fucked that up forever.

Fleck's face was blank for a moment after the comment.

That was not what he expected.

A snort sounded, then another full belly laugh, that shook his frame and made the corner of his eyes crinkle a little.

"Oh my god, no one's ever actually said that to me. Hoo, man that was good."

Fleck gave a flirty wink. "I'd draw you any way you want, Rose."

Richard frantically waved a hand.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice cracking in his embarrassment. That flirty wink had Done Things to him.

Time to physically walk out of this conversation.

He stood up and began to, almost aggressively, organise things through his suitcase again, taking it all out and putting it in a neat pile on the bed.