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“Hiya, my names Feliks, you?”
There is a blond standing in front of him with the shiniest, green eyes he’s ever seen. The other teenager is wearing pink clothing and long beige jeans. They have told him their name, so he returns the gesture and tells the teen his own,
“I’m.. Tolvydas,” It was common courtesy to shake hands in the west when meeting new people, so he does so and outstretches his dominant hand to the blond.
Feliks, the blonde, grabs his hand and shakes it eagerly, but with a light touch. Tolvydas has never felt so intimidated by someone in his life. He is just meeting his new roommate for the first time and he is already terrified. The two of them were put in a shared dorm, “I’m from Poland, so I was chosen by a Program called the Bundlefare, how about you?” Feliks peers into the hallway, glancing at the baggage at the entryway of their dorm—there were two suitcases and a backup, one had a pin of the Polish flag.
He smiles awkwardly, “Lithuania, born and raised—they recruited me through the embassy though, my high school sent in an application last year.” and there’s the reply, his mind is running on autopilot now.
Feliks looks back to him and blinks slowly, like a cat would, and then a bright smile breaks across their face. The smile is almost blinding, Tolvydas can swear he hears bells chime. He doesn't know how else to explain the noise, except maybe an alarm.
“Do you want the left bedroom or right?” Feliks finally says to him as he grabs his suitcase from the door, it is a dark shade of red and it looked like it had been through a lot.
“Erm, I’ll take that room—“ Tolvydas points to the room nearest to the joint kitchen, dining space (it is so small, he wouldn’t consider it a dining room at all) and living. It looks identical to the other room across the small hall from it.
“If that’s fine.” He breathes, finally.
Feliks smiles, it seems more relaxed this time. Their posture isn't as stiff and they are looking him in the eyes. It feels more genuine, which is reassuring, if anything.
Feliks nods.
He turns his back to Feliks and makes his way to his designated bedroom. The door is open and there are no personal touches, nothing at all, which is what Tolvydas was hoping for. The walls are bare, white, and there is a small, wooden desk against the wall across the doorway. In the middle of the room there is a bed, neatly made and tucked. There is a dresser in the corner, the drawers were left ajar.
On the bed, there is a letter and a box neatly placed on the folded blankets—they are his enrollment papers and his uniform, as well as what he needs to attend the Academy.
Inside the box contains a laptop, a special keycard, his dorm key and several special notebooks and resource textbooks bound together with a long cord of leather.
Tolvydas inspects his uniform for a moment—it is what you’ll expect from a highly sought after academy for training the best of the best of the world of espionage and government secrecy. He’d lied to Feliks back there when they first met, though the pole didn’t need to know that—the Lithuanian was chosen by the IWLOSA out of at least a dozen or so other students from his home country. A choice, he still kind of got confused by.
The IWLOSA was known to recruit and take the brightest students, or, the ones with the most potential. They were looking for the top students. (He knows, as he’s done research on the organization long before any of this had ever happened—they were a very different organization back then, but now, the name is different and a new ‘General’ had rose to power)
But, he was not the smartest in his class.
He wasn’t the most athletic, or the strongest.
Why did they choose him?
His fingers skim the fabric, the fabric is rough and stiff—the color is a dark black, it is made from a special, fire resistant material that is used for suits to be worn in missions that involve gunfights. The uniform comes with a vest and tie. It is also required to wear a long sleeved dress shirt, slacks, and either a blazer or a suit jacket.
Tolvydas sets the uniform aside for later, and puts the rest of his clothes into the drawers of the dresser, the boxes containing his shoes and other necessities go under his bed, neatly stacked.
The laptop is placed neatly on the work table just west of his bed, with the table lamp sliding into place just next to it.
His dorm room is simple, and he likes that.
As Tolvydas finishes unpacking and setting up his things, he hears a voice.
It is Feliks.
Their voice is soft, like a feather falling onto a lake and rippling the water. It is gentle, but there is a firm undertone in the voice. They are speaking Polish.
They are talking to someone.
Tolvydas listens.
He knows Polish, not fluently, but he understands the language.
It is their father, calling them on their phone.
They sound happy.
Feliks speaks excitedly, the words come out a little quicker, Tolvydas notes. They must be really happy to be speaking with their father. Tolvydas smiles for a moment, but he’s never really had a father to begin with—only a mother, a single mother who raised him all his life. She was a pretty women, smart and strong. He brings out his phone, unlocks it and his finger hovers over her phone number before he decides not to call, it was nearly midnight back in Vilnius after all.
He tucks his phone into his pocket and rises, brushing a hand through his hair. His legs carry him back toward the main living space, where he finds Feliks sitting cross-legged on the floor, still talking animatedly into their phone. They glance up as he enters, flashing him a wide smile before focusing back on the call.
Tolvydas stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself. He doesn't want to interrupt, but the air in the room feels lighter with Feliks around, and for some reason, he can't bring himself to retreat back into the solitude of his room just yet.
Instead, he crosses to the small kitchen area, inspecting the basic setup. There's a sink, a small stove, a fridge that hums faintly—nothing fancy, but enough for the two of them to get by. He absentmindedly opens one of the cupboards, finding it empty aside from a single plate and mug. He wonders if Feliks brought any of their own kitchen supplies.
After a few more moments of listening to the lilting flow of Polish in the background, Feliks finally hangs up, setting their phone down with a contented sigh. They stretch their arms above their head, then turn to face Tolvydas, who is still standing awkwardly by the counter.
"That was my dad," Feliks explains, their tone softening a little as they rub the back of their neck. "He just wanted to check in and make sure I got here alright."
Tolvydas nods, unsure how to respond. "That's nice," he says after a beat, then adds, "I... don't talk to my parents much."
Feliks blinks at him for a moment, tilting their head slightly like they're trying to figure out whether he's joking or not. "Oh? Well, you're here now, right? Fresh start and all that." They offer him another one of those dazzling smiles, the kind that makes it seem like everything is just going to work out.
Tolvydas forces a small smile in return. He’s still trying to wrap his head around how easily Feliks seems to exist in this space. There's something about the blonde—something both overwhelming and comforting. They seem so at ease with themselves, as if they’ve always known exactly who they are and where they’re supposed to be. Tolvydas can't relate.
"So, what do you think about this place?" Feliks asks suddenly, hopping to their feet and dusting off their pants. "Pretty different from home, huh?"
"Yeah," Tolvydas admits, his voice quieter now. "It's... quieter than I expected."
Feliks grins, that cat-like look back on their face. "Just wait until classes start. Then you'll wish it was this quiet."
Tolvydas raises an eyebrow. "You've been here before?"
"Nah, but I've read stuff—people don't really keep their mouths shut when an organization like this has recruitment agencies all around the world, you know?" The Pole adds earnestly.
"And, I mean, I'm from the east, not too far from you actually. My dad did some research and found out this place used to be a military school, but then the war ended and now it's this." They wave a hand in the general direction of the rest of the building, their gaze fixed somewhere behind Tolvydas. "Anyway, you hungry?"
"Starving," Tolvydas replies. It's true. The plane ride was long, and the last thing he ate was a sad little sandwich that had come with the flight.
"Good, because the dining hall here is actually pretty amazing," Feliks declares, bouncing on the balls of their feet. "C'mon, let's go check it out."
Tolvydas isn't quite sure how he ends up following the excitable Pole, but soon enough they're standing in a spacious room full of long tables and benches.
“It’s the week before lessons start so there’s a lot of students now—some board some don’t, it just kind of depends really.”
“Mhm.” Comes his reply.
Once they enter the canteen, it’s a bit of a hectic journey—they are more students than he’d expected, there were a lot of people he didn’t recognize save from the Hungarian girl Tolvydas had met during informal orientations alongside her sworn brothers a week earlier.
The canteen has a large buffet next to the wall, there are many delicacies—most of which he’s only ever seen from his mother’s sister’s (his aunt) postcards of her travels.
He feels at home, for the first time in a while—his head, it yearns for something much more, like an adventure, or so he thinks.