Escaping Reality Chapter 2: All the King's Horses
He worked the hours most of the students couldn’t; that is to say, he had most weekdays from open to close, since studying was actually a pretty serious pastime in this university. He even managed to sign up for night classes under an assumed name, and soon had enough money to get a shithole apartment for a few months. His world was pretty boring, but it was stable, and he liked meeting all of the students who frequented the store. His world was turned upside down when his landlord rented his studio out from under him.
He had nowhere else to go, and the bookstore didn’t even have a decent couch in the back, which was something he’d complained about good-naturedly before, but it was now a true annoyance. He managed to get into a flop house, since all of the apartments were rented out to students. He kept working at the store, which was what was keeping him from starving, but he was out of his element - he hadn’t had to live anywhere near to this level since Tarsus, and those were very extenuating circumstances that didn’t need to be remembered.
He didn’t tell his boss what had happened, or his teachers, so no one knew. He thought some of the regulars noticed that he was always tired now; flop houses were really noisy and filled with drug addicts and ‘reformed’ criminals, so sleep was in short supply. He’d been in the situation for a few weeks before Len, one of the regulars and working on pre-med, asked him what was wrong.
“What are you talkin’ about, Len?” he asked, easily mimicking the man’s heavy Georgia drawl. Len wasn’t much older than him, actually, which was interesting, but he acted so old that Jim couldn’t help ribbing him every once in awhile. Especially when Len was being extra perceptive.
“I’m talkin’ about the fact that you look like you ain’t slept in months, JT,” the man answered promptly. Jim sighed. He was glad it was almost time to close up, because then he might be able to get rid of Len and go back to the house.
“Maybe I’m just not feelin’ good, Len, you think of that?”
“Yeah, but my scans didn’t tell me anything was wrong except lack of sleep yesterday.” Jim tried to raise an eyebrow, an expression he was horrible at. Len was like a dog with a bone. He opted to ignore the man and began to close up, shutting the blinds and turning the sign over on the front door. He still had to sweep, and Len didn’t look like he was leaving, which was usually a no-no, but Jim was so tired he’d given up on arguing when the man stayed behind, which was happening more often recently.
Len silently helped him, and the job was done in half the time. Once he was finished he locked the front door and motioned toward the back, where the door he left and came in from was located. Len followed him, and dogged his steps to the local diner.
“What do you want, Len?” he asked, stubbornly, trying to dislodge the tick that took the form of an aspiring doctor from Americus, Georgia. He just wanted to get back to his room at the flop before it was given away again (which had happened a lot more than he liked to admit), and get his usual 1-hour nap.
“To know what’s wrong with you,” Len answered, his drawl nearly incomprehensible. Jim could see Len was getting angry, but he didn’t want to seem like a little kid who couldn’t even take care of himself. Len didn’t even know who he really was; JT was pretty ambiguous, and he’d quickly gotten over the flinch that went through him when hearing it. That would just make things worse, if he knew.
“Nothing’s wrong with me, Len,” he said again, sitting himself in his usual booth and waving at Darla, who called out a greeting and came over with two cups of coffee, and her padd to take Len’s order. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said with an easy grin. “I’ll have my usual, and…. I guess he’s sticking around, too, so whatever he wants.”
“Peach cobbler,” Len said, smiling at the woman and holding the expression until she’d turned away to fill the order. Once she was gone, the smile morphed into a scowl, and he started talking again. “JT, you’re not doing good, no matter what you say. So what’s going on with you? Obviously, you’re not hurting for work, and that has to pay good enough - “
“To outpay some college kid who gets an allotment from their parents or the state that doubles my largest check?” he interrupted bitterly. He almost didn’t notice the shift from angry concern to sympathy, and he mirrored the earlier scowl. “Just leave it, Len. Christmas Break is coming up, and I’ll have enough saved up to get outta here.” He’d decided to start heading further west, into Texas, maybe, which was a lot more open and would definitely have a place for him to stay.
“Aren’t you taking classes?”
“Yeah, got one in about an hour, actually. But those all end by the break, and I can transfer credits almost anywhere.” He wanted Len to stop bothering him, but asking Len to stop worrying over anybody was like asking the wind to stop blowing. So he switched tracks, playing to Len’s hospitality, because he really did like it here. “But I like the college, so I can get something figured out by the time next semester starts.”
“… Whydon’tyoustaywithme?” Len asked quietly, and too fast for him to understand, especially with the drawl added to the equation.
“Huh?” he asked, even though he had a pretty good idea what Len was asking. Darla brought their food, and he started to tuck into his soup and sandwich, which was grilled cheese and tomato today.
“Why don’t you stay with me?” Len asked, slowing his words down and obviously trying to enunciate. Jim was pleased; his manipulations were working perfectly.
"What about your roommate?"
“Don’t have one. I’m one of those kids who gets the allotments, so I don’t have to worry about sharing a place. It’s got two bedrooms, in case my sister decides to visit, so you’d have your own space.” Jim smirked inwardly; this was better than he’d hoped for. He’d expected a couch in a cramped apartment, not his own room.
“Well, I’ll pay my share, regardless,” he said, feeling something in his chest tighten at the slow grin that took over Len’s face. He ruthlessly quelled the urge to touch that dimple and smiled back instead.
“So you’ll come?” At Jim’s nod, Len’s grin got larger, if that was possible, and once they’d finished eating and paid (Jim insisted, since Len was taking him in and all), he dragged Jim to an old cargo-transport car, which was barely newer than the convertible Jim had crashed at age 9. It ran well, though, and he picked up what little bits he’d left in his room at the flop house, and had gotten installed In the rather spacious apartment just off campus before he had to run to make it to his class on time.
(On to Chapter 3)
He had nowhere else to go, and the bookstore didn’t even have a decent couch in the back, which was something he’d complained about good-naturedly before, but it was now a true annoyance. He managed to get into a flop house, since all of the apartments were rented out to students. He kept working at the store, which was what was keeping him from starving, but he was out of his element - he hadn’t had to live anywhere near to this level since Tarsus, and those were very extenuating circumstances that didn’t need to be remembered.
He didn’t tell his boss what had happened, or his teachers, so no one knew. He thought some of the regulars noticed that he was always tired now; flop houses were really noisy and filled with drug addicts and ‘reformed’ criminals, so sleep was in short supply. He’d been in the situation for a few weeks before Len, one of the regulars and working on pre-med, asked him what was wrong.
“What are you talkin’ about, Len?” he asked, easily mimicking the man’s heavy Georgia drawl. Len wasn’t much older than him, actually, which was interesting, but he acted so old that Jim couldn’t help ribbing him every once in awhile. Especially when Len was being extra perceptive.
“I’m talkin’ about the fact that you look like you ain’t slept in months, JT,” the man answered promptly. Jim sighed. He was glad it was almost time to close up, because then he might be able to get rid of Len and go back to the house.
“Maybe I’m just not feelin’ good, Len, you think of that?”
“Yeah, but my scans didn’t tell me anything was wrong except lack of sleep yesterday.” Jim tried to raise an eyebrow, an expression he was horrible at. Len was like a dog with a bone. He opted to ignore the man and began to close up, shutting the blinds and turning the sign over on the front door. He still had to sweep, and Len didn’t look like he was leaving, which was usually a no-no, but Jim was so tired he’d given up on arguing when the man stayed behind, which was happening more often recently.
Len silently helped him, and the job was done in half the time. Once he was finished he locked the front door and motioned toward the back, where the door he left and came in from was located. Len followed him, and dogged his steps to the local diner.
“What do you want, Len?” he asked, stubbornly, trying to dislodge the tick that took the form of an aspiring doctor from Americus, Georgia. He just wanted to get back to his room at the flop before it was given away again (which had happened a lot more than he liked to admit), and get his usual 1-hour nap.
“To know what’s wrong with you,” Len answered, his drawl nearly incomprehensible. Jim could see Len was getting angry, but he didn’t want to seem like a little kid who couldn’t even take care of himself. Len didn’t even know who he really was; JT was pretty ambiguous, and he’d quickly gotten over the flinch that went through him when hearing it. That would just make things worse, if he knew.
“Nothing’s wrong with me, Len,” he said again, sitting himself in his usual booth and waving at Darla, who called out a greeting and came over with two cups of coffee, and her padd to take Len’s order. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said with an easy grin. “I’ll have my usual, and…. I guess he’s sticking around, too, so whatever he wants.”
“Peach cobbler,” Len said, smiling at the woman and holding the expression until she’d turned away to fill the order. Once she was gone, the smile morphed into a scowl, and he started talking again. “JT, you’re not doing good, no matter what you say. So what’s going on with you? Obviously, you’re not hurting for work, and that has to pay good enough - “
“To outpay some college kid who gets an allotment from their parents or the state that doubles my largest check?” he interrupted bitterly. He almost didn’t notice the shift from angry concern to sympathy, and he mirrored the earlier scowl. “Just leave it, Len. Christmas Break is coming up, and I’ll have enough saved up to get outta here.” He’d decided to start heading further west, into Texas, maybe, which was a lot more open and would definitely have a place for him to stay.
“Aren’t you taking classes?”
“Yeah, got one in about an hour, actually. But those all end by the break, and I can transfer credits almost anywhere.” He wanted Len to stop bothering him, but asking Len to stop worrying over anybody was like asking the wind to stop blowing. So he switched tracks, playing to Len’s hospitality, because he really did like it here. “But I like the college, so I can get something figured out by the time next semester starts.”
“… Whydon’tyoustaywithme?” Len asked quietly, and too fast for him to understand, especially with the drawl added to the equation.
“Huh?” he asked, even though he had a pretty good idea what Len was asking. Darla brought their food, and he started to tuck into his soup and sandwich, which was grilled cheese and tomato today.
“Why don’t you stay with me?” Len asked, slowing his words down and obviously trying to enunciate. Jim was pleased; his manipulations were working perfectly.
"What about your roommate?"
“Don’t have one. I’m one of those kids who gets the allotments, so I don’t have to worry about sharing a place. It’s got two bedrooms, in case my sister decides to visit, so you’d have your own space.” Jim smirked inwardly; this was better than he’d hoped for. He’d expected a couch in a cramped apartment, not his own room.
“Well, I’ll pay my share, regardless,” he said, feeling something in his chest tighten at the slow grin that took over Len’s face. He ruthlessly quelled the urge to touch that dimple and smiled back instead.
“So you’ll come?” At Jim’s nod, Len’s grin got larger, if that was possible, and once they’d finished eating and paid (Jim insisted, since Len was taking him in and all), he dragged Jim to an old cargo-transport car, which was barely newer than the convertible Jim had crashed at age 9. It ran well, though, and he picked up what little bits he’d left in his room at the flop house, and had gotten installed In the rather spacious apartment just off campus before he had to run to make it to his class on time.
(On to Chapter 3)