A short piece done in drabble sets. The time and lives of four University students.
"We all start out that way." A low voice purred behind him. "Unless we start with creatures soaked in formaldehyde. Then we know better."
"Ah, as you say, Sempai." Watari turned to smile at the older man standing in the doorway of the cadaver lab.
The other man smiled back slowly. "Are you tired of work or would you like to come up to my room to study...maybe have a cup of coffee? Or would your room mate object?"
Watari shrugged. "He never notices me. Let's study."
Impossibly tiny handwriting started filling its third sheet of study notes. His Professor had often marveled at how he could turn such a simple issue as profit margin into a thesis paper's worth of notes.
The phone rang. Not even fully disengaging his brain from the million possible scenarios that could result from one price markup or down, he picked up the receiver. "Tatsumi Seiichirou."
"Hey, Tatsumi, it's your roomy."
He set his pen down for a second, smiling. "Yes, Watari? How was lab?"
"Oh, it was fun, as always, morbid, as always." The happy voice on the other end of the line informed him. "Muraki Sempai invited me up to his room to study and have coffee, though, so I probably won't be in until later, 'k?"
Tatsumi stiffened. He forced his voice to be indifferent. "Alright. I'll see you when you get in." Maybe. If he was still up.
"Okay, see you then! Bye!" The phone clicked off before he could reply.
He turned back to his notes, not seeing them. You should have told him, you idiot. He sighed. Perhaps tonight he would tell him, after the blond staggered in at some ungodly hour of the morning smelling of stale cigarettes and the other man's cologne. Perhaps...
Oriya let himself into the room, his Kendo gear slung over one shoulder and froze at the familiar smell of sweat and semen. Sighing, he continued his way to his bed without turning on the light and dumped his gear in the middle of it. He didn't need to look at his roommate's bead to know that it was occupied, long, golden blond waves spilling over the pillow. He kept thinking...hoping...that the medical student would find a new toy.
Shutting the door silently behind him, he made his way back outside to his room mate's favorite smoking spot. The moonlight turned the man before him into a silver shadow. Without comment, Muraki held out a pack of cigarettes, offering him one.
He accepted the pack. "You're not doing him any favors, you know. The entire campus must know he has the hots for that accountant he rooms with."
"And the accountant ignores him." Muraki shrugged. "One man's loss is another's gain."
"And when you grow tired of him?" Oriya arched a brow. "What then?"
The other man turned, the moon glinting on his glass eye. "Then it's none of my concern."