Dorm

                                    

                                          
Scar POV
I opened my eyes tiredly, my vision blurry. Trying to collect my thoughts on what the heck had happened, I felt the softness of a mattress underneath me. 
Realisation hit and I opened my eyes, startled looking around. I was in a dorm room. 
Then I noticed I wasn't alone. A quite familiar person sat on a chair in front of me, pen tapping against his lips as he read in a book. 
It was Grian. 
I looked down at myself, I was still in HotGuy uniform. Confusion made my head ache. What the hell was HotGuy doing in Grians dorm?
"Welcome back to reality," Grian said casually, like this was just a normal Tuesday happening. 
"What am I doing here?" I asked, sitting up on what I assumed to be his bed. If I wasn't so exhausted I would've been flustered. 
"How about a 'Thanks for the hospitality. Sorry CuteGuy left me here, he's a bit of a jerk!'" Grian changed up his voice a little bit, and I couldn't help it but to chuckle at him. 
"Wait. Do you know CuteGuy?" I questioned, massaging my sore thigh muscle. 
"Eh. Here and there. But he left you here for me to deal with you, so I fixed up your wounds a bit, didn't really want your blood in my sheets, ya'know?"
His tone and attitude plagued me. Somehow I found his absolute annoyed casualty attractive. 
"Right, yeah, sorry," I chuckled awkwardly, then noticed the missing tint of the world. 
"Where's my glasses?" I asked sternly. 
"Smashed. But the remains Cutie gave me is here," he said and handed me them. He was right, they were smashed. 
I wasn't gonna enjoy my next visit at Cub's, that's for sure, I thought with a grimace. 
"I don't really know how to fix up superhero stuff, it's not that I have magic or an eye for mechanical things," he chuckled and I nodded, starting to feel awkward. 
The obvious next move was to leave, but I really didn't think I was in a state to even stand. 
Grian shut his book and placed it and the pen on his desk, then got up to the tiny, tiny kitchen counter college students got. 
It was first now I picked up on the bustling sound of a tea kettle. It made a small 'click' as he took it off the bottom part that heated it. 
He poured the warm water into an off-white mug. 
"I hope you like tea, otherwise I'm pretty much wasting my time," he stated and I chuckled. 
"I do like tea," I hummed, really craving the feel of tea warming up my tense throat. 
"Honey? Sugar?" he looked at me with a arched eyebrows. I blushed slightly at seeing this version of him. 
"Both," I replied, looking down at my communicator on my arm. 
"Mm, of course you're a sweet-heart," he replied and I flushed a bit more. I didn't even fully know what that was supposed to mean. 
He gave me the mug and I gratefully took it, warming my rough hands against it as he starts making some for himself. 
After a bit of silence, he sat down on his chair, his tea done too. 
"So what's your plan after? You don't look too good right now," he said as he sipped on his tea, quickly pulling away from it as it was still hot. 
I chuckled as he placed his mug on his desk. "I always look good, what do you mean," I grinned, fake hurt. He rolled his eyes and picked up his book again. 
For someone who had expressed his dislike towards me in ethics, he seemed nice enough right now. 
"So did the cats like their food?" I broke the silence, remembering back on the day I had walked with him and he mentioned his volunteer job at a cat rescue centre. 
He looked at me puzzled for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in wariness with his eyes narrowed on me, almost reminding me of Cutie. 
"Ohh," his expression fell and he nodded. "Going there again tomorrow. Quite excited, it's such a break from your own reality when you're there."
He smiled softly, but I thought about his words. 'Your own reality'? What was his reality? Was something I didn't know about as Scar going on?
"Can I join?" the words left my mouth before I could at all contemplate if I had the time or anything. 
He looked at me in suprise, tapping his nails against the mug in a repeated rhythm. 
"I suppose we could always use more volunteers," he concluded after thinking a bit. 
I smiled greatly at the thoughts of both helping a crap ton of cats, but also him. 
"Fantastic."





[797 words]