Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grian sat tensely on the couch in Salted’s apartment, drawing in a breath before running his nail along the seal of the letter. He slid the single sheet out with his eyes firmly fixed on the slanted ceiling, gaze drifting down the windowless wall and onto the cheap rug that was half covered by Grian’s meagre belongings. 

With his heart beating in his throat, Grian looked at the letter. The acceptance letter. Congratulating him for getting into the General Administration course at the University of Administration.

He jumped up, the sound of a couple of empty cans being disturbed by Grian’s movement alerting the owner of the home.

“I got in!” Grian shouted, “Holy fucking shit!” His voice broke, but his excitement blinded the embarrassing scratch of his voice.

Salted grinned, “Does this mean you will stop sleeping on my couch?”

“Yes!” Grian chuckled, “Yes, of course, shit, I am freaking out.” He wheezed a few short breaths, running his hand through his uncared for hair. Grian realised that he needed now to get his shit together in time to move into his dorm. 

Was he even ready for this new chapter of his life? Would going back to a learning environment dredge up awful memories from highschool, or would it be a breath of fresh air to finally learn something?

Time flew by, and Grian collected everything he owned from whoever he was couchsurfing with at the time, he built the last set for CraftedMovie, and thanked all of the various adults who had taken him in for a few weeks at some time in the past year. It had been a shit year, but it had also been the best year of his teenage years. 

He thanked Salted and Boule for putting up with him, and they were sincere for once, and wished Grian luck in university. 

Then finally, with his old rucksack on his back, only just turned eighteen and barely scraping by, Grian arrived at the training server for admins. Five minutes on the train found him at the university campus, feeling like a kid stood atop a hill finally seeing the world for how huge it truly was. 

His dorm didn’t incite the same feeling of grandeur, but after walking all the way over to block seven in the august heat and standing with several other students in the elevator up to floor four, Grian was just glad to have a clean, cool room to sit down in. His dorm was number two on the floor, and whilst he’d come across many other students, there was no-one in dorm four-two. 

The living area was fairly nice, with a reasonably large kitchen and a cupboard for each person who was sharing the room. Only one fridge, though, and a tiny table shoved into the corner with four uncomfortable looking chairs crowded around it. 

The main room was windowless, however, which gave it a slightly odd feel. At the back, past the corner couch and wall-mounted TV, was an array of doors - the bedrooms. Grian peeked into all of them, they were all the same long, thin design with a tiny shower and toilet off to the right of the door. 

Eventually, he chose the one furthest on the left, not wanting the centre two and preferring the view from the left. It was only of the courtyard and blocks eight, six and five, but it was nice.

The swipe of a keycard and the heavy shift of the main door caught Grian off guard. He dumped his bag and listened from his new room as two people entered the dorm.

“Oh, this is-”

“What do they think we need a kitchen for?” Someone laughed, “I know I don’t cook much.”

“Fwhip, I do cook, and you at least need a stove for instant noodles.”

“What if I just put them in the microwave?”

“What if I’m going to go and request a new dorm right now because of that?”

The other guy - Fwhip - laughs brightly. 

Grian finally decided to stop being weird, “Uh, hey new roommates?” 

It went quiet, so he stepped out of the room and into the main area, where he was met with two boys, one with striking blue eyes and ginger hair, and another with slightly faded blue dyed hair, both with suitcases and multiple bags dumped on the floor.

“I thought we were the first ones here,” the blue-haired student remarked, “but I guess we aren’t.” He laughed politely.

Grian clammed up, “I apologise.” He had already made this awkward, dang it. 

“No worries at all man!” The other said, “I’m Fwhip, this is Scott.”

He nodded in response, shaking Fwhip’s hand, “I’m Grian. Nice to meet you.” He tried a smile, pushing himself to be nice to people and not sink back into that cruel, indifferent mask he had lived in for so long. 

Okay, how do people be nice?

“Did you need a hand getting your stuff into your room?” Grian asked quietly. That was something people did, right? Or was he insinuating that he thought Scott and Fwhip were weak, and-

“Sure, we have to pick which ones we want first though.” Scott replied calmly, walking to the end of the common room and checking out all the rooms, Fwhip following close behind him.

Scott got to the left-most one, then slowly walked across the common room where Grian was tensely waiting, picking at his nails.

“That bag all you got?” Fwhip asked, sounding genuinely confused. Scott made a similar face.

Grian rubbed his jaw, searching for a suitable lie that wouldn’t get his new roommates immediately concerned for his welfare, “I just brought enough to move in, I’ve got, uh, more on the way.”

They seemed mildly perplexed, but no longer concerned, “Let’s take the middle two.” Fwhip finally decided.

Scott nodded, taking his suitcase and shuffling it through the doorway. Fwhip did the same, pointing to a couple of plastic bags that were still on the floor for Grian to help carry into the bedrooms. 

“Nice, thanks man.” Fwhip smiled, “I’m gonna unpack now, but we’ll go down to dinner together.”

Grian nodded, feeling accomplished, he’d managed to help someone without being rude or backhanded. It was a sense of pride he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Whilst he really loved working with Salted and the CraftedMovie team, they made him feel kind of small. And yeah, he had only been seventeen when they worked with him, but he had poured his heart and soul into those builds whilst also not knowing how to normally interact with people after spending most of his formative years in a rundown, collapsing server. He just wanted to know what it felt like to have friends, to be a kid, to have fun. To live that life he got a taste of when he spent a year in his home server, searching for long lost family, only to find that they had left, leaving Grian to slink back to Sam in Akademi high.

Whatever, this was a new life, with new people, and he’d be damned if he let his past fuck with this. Grian steeled himself, before setting out to unpack his bag.

Ten minutes later, there were several pairs of underwear and socks on a shelf, next to a pair of spare jeans. Two t-shirts hung up in the wardrobe thing, and a long sleeved black turtleneck. His favourite blanket was pulled out from between the straps of his rucksack and laid on the bare mattress. In the tiny bathroom, one travel towel and an assortment of bottles in a plastic bag.

Just as he was carefully setting his precious notebook and little shoulder bag into the drawer, there was a noise from the common room - the fourth roommate had arrived. 

Scott and Fwhip had already come stumbling out of their rooms and were greeting the guy in the common room, Grian only just made it to the entrance and stood behind the couch as the guy greeted them.

He was tall, and had a wispy beard that only really reached his chin and upper lip, “Oh, I’m the last one in!” He chuckled, “Nice to meet you all, I’m Xisuma.”

“We’re about to go to dinner in like ten minutes, you wanna dump your stuff and come with us?” Fwhip offered.

Xisuma nodded, “Sure, sure, it would be nice to talk with you all over some food.” He turned to Grian, “Nice to meet you as well, my friend.”

Grian nodded stiffly, untrusting of the smooth tone and odd calmness of the man, “Pleasure is mine.” He replied, “I’m Grian, by the way.” 

Scott and Fwhip seemed like typical uni students, but Xisuma gave Grian a weird feeling. Whilst it could just be paranoia, Grian didn’t want to risk anything. Was he on high alert? Constantly. Of course.

With that last photo frame, Scott had set up his desk with everything he had the energy to unpack right now. He’d finished his clothes, thrown his pillows and duvet onto the bed, but his toiletries remained unpacked in his suitcase. Whatever, he was starving and needed to take a break. 

Slipping next door, Scott took in Fwhip’s state of a room, the man had taken even more stuff than Scott had. 

“Ready to go?” Scott asked his friend.

Fwhip nodded, “Let’s grab the other two guys and we’ll head off.”

With that, Scott made his way over to the left-most room and knocked.

“Uh, come in?” His new roommate, Grian, replied from inside.

Scott opened the door and walked into the small room, noting the single blanket on the bed and mostly empty room, “We’re going off to eat now, they’re doing a welcome dinner in the cafeteria.” He kept his voice fairly soft, Grian seemed anxious about moving in, which was totally understandable. Scott felt the same way.

“Okay, let me grab my phone…” Grian trailed off, opening the drawer. Scott could see a few objects out of the corner of his eye, maybe a notebook and a small bag, though he turned away and started heading out as Grian closed the drawer.

Scott tried to make light conversation as they followed Fwhip and Xisuma out of the dorms, “So, how old are you Grian?”

“Eighteen,” He answered, sounding almost bored, “Just a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh wow, so you’ve just come out of high school this summer!” Scott exclaimed, “Fwhip and I are both twenty now.”

Grian sighed, “Damn, and I came here thinking I would get away from being the youngest.”

That caught Scott off guard, and he chuckled along with Fwhip and Xisuma, who were now paying attention.

Xisuma chimed in, “Are you the younger brother, then?”

“I don’t really have contact with my siblings.” Grian shrugged, like that was something normal. 

No one pressed.

“I’m twenty-one, by the way.” Xisuma added, “I’ve been doing an apprenticeship since I finished high school, and now I’m finally doing my level three in sophisticated administration.”

Scott nodded, “Nice, we’ve been on a gap year, but before that I was doing a part-time course on player welfare, and now I’m going for a level two in general admin and then the one year course they do on events managing.” He took a deep breath. Scott was proud of how far he’d come from not knowing what he wanted to do at all, to having a bright plan in front of him. 

“Yeah, I met Scott on the welfare course.” Fwhip explained, “He’s been unable to get rid of me since, and now I’m going for level two in general admin.”

Shoving his friend lightly, Scott turned to Grian, “What course are you doing?”

“General admin, I think.” Grian answered, “and I guess for three years.”

“Do you guys know anyone here?” Fwhip started, “Obviously Scott and I know each other, but we don’t know anyone else.”

Grian shook his head, and Xisuma said something about an old friend. Scott tuned out the small talk to take in the large campus grounds in the evening light. He’d really expected the two mystery roommates to be more boisterous, and whilst first impressions were nothing once you got to know the person, Scott was pretty happy with his roommates. Xisuma seemed like the quiet, intelligent type, and he had more experience than the rest of them. Grian also seemed okay, though he seemed a bit nervous. Scott hoped he would warm up to them.

He followed the rest of the students up a set of concrete stairs and through some double doors, straight into the cafeteria line. The distinct smell of curry carried through the warm air of the building, and Scott breathed it in, feeling ravenous after the long journey here from his home server.

The short wait brought them each a plate of food, there being multiple choices for curries, rice, potatoes and naan. They joined a large table next to four other boys, ones that Scott had seen in their block.

Fwhip obviously recognised them as well, “Hey, you guys from block seven?”

They nodded, “Yeah man, did you hear that floor five is having a meetup in the big games room?” 

Scott hummed, “We didn’t know, should we pop by this evening?” He gathered some curry, rice and a big chunk of chicken on his fork and chewed it as the group answered.

“Sure, come along. It’s gonna be chill, they’ve got some Cards Against Playerkind and loads of snacks.” 

Well that was their evening planned, it seemed like a nice way to get to know some of their neighbours. Scott thanked them, and refocused on eating his dinner as the table fell quiet. Fwhip was just as clumsy as usual when eating. Across from Scott, Xisuma was very slowly eating his, though he seemed to be enjoying it. Grian had already finished half of his plate, which wasn’t saying much as he’d only served himself a third of what Scott would. 

It made sense, though, Grian was pretty weedy. 

“Did you guys want to make a groupchat for the dorm?” Scott suggested.

Xisuma nodded, “Sounds like a good idea.” 

Scott picked up his phone after finishing his last mouthful of naan and curry sauce.

(Smajor made a chat )

(Smajor added FWhip , Xisuma and Grian)

(19:11)

<Smajor> hey hey!

<Xisuma> Hi :-) 

(19:48)

<Xisuma> Just heading back to the dorms

<Smajor> nice walk?

<Xisuma> lovely, such a nice server

<FWhip> im beating everyone at cards against playerkind

<Grian> steal a chocolate bar for me?

<FWhip> sure, theyve got loads here for everyone

<Grian> im just outside the block atm

<Smajor> ill bring u a can of drink, what u like?

<Grian> dr peeper pls thx

(21:03)

<Xisuma> When are people returning to dorm??

<Smajor> well leave in a lil while

<Smajor> were just chattin about our courses :D 

(21:57)

<FWhip> we headin back now

<Smajor> cya in two mins

<Xisuma> Okay :-) 

Xisuma put his phone down and took a long look at his new room - he’d managed to put a few posters up, set out a few things on his desk, unpack his clothes and set up his guitar stand. He wanted to get some fairy lights to go somewhere around his bed for when he was getting ready to go to sleep or studying after dark, but other than that Xisuma was pretty happy with just a simple room. 

He gently closed the door and walked into the common room, finding Grian sat cross-legged on the sofa, the TV blaring an obnoxious voice during an ad break.

“The others are on the way up from the games room now,” Xisuma informed him, “What are you watching?”

Grian shrugged, “Nothing.” He knocked the volume down by five points, then another five.

“Have you set up your room already?” Xisuma asked, determined to try and make small talk, “I’ve still got a bit to unpack. It’s surprising how much stuff you actually own when you try and fit it into one suitcase.”

Looking over to the TV, Grian sighed noncommittally, “I’ve put my clothes in the wardrobe. It’s a pretty big room though and I don’t have that much stuff to fill it with.”

Xisuma sat down in the middle of the sofa, turning his gaze to the film now playing quietly, “It’s a pretty small room in my opinion, it can barely fit a twin size bed and a desk.”

Grian rolled his eyes, “Of course.” He glared at the TV, “It’s weird to actually have my own room.” He mumbled.

“Nice, were you sharing with a sibling or something beforehand?” Xisuma said, before realising he was being stupid, “Oh, sorry, I forgot. You said you don’t talk to them. I apologise.”

Without even so much as glancing at him, Grian replied coldly, “It’s fine.” He kept his eyes firmly on the television, where the main character of the mediocre action movie was fighting off these strange glitched entities by… shooting at them. Mediocre action film. Nonetheless, Grian seemed to be enjoying it. Xisuma noted the way his fingers twitched mindlessly at every gunshot.

It didn’t exactly make him feel unsafe - this server was so heavily moderated that nothing could happen, and even if it did, respawns were infinite - but Xisuma was glad to see Scott and Fwhip push open the door. He was almost twenty-two, it had been years now since he’d been in any actual danger, and he had been through years of counselling. He reminded himself that Grian was not a danger, maybe he just enjoyed action movie heroes? 

“How was the Cards Against Playerkind?” Xisuma asked, gently steering his mind away from catastrophizing.

Fwhip grinned, “I whooped everyone’s asses.”

“He won with ten points, second place had four.” Scott sighed, collapsing onto the other end of the sofa, “What in the void is this?”

“Some kind of thriller type thing.” Grian said dismissively, “Data protector goes to war against the glitches and ends up losing everything.”

Xisuma hummed to himself, then said, “Do you like gun movies?” He just had to know, this new roommate was eerie and he didn’t like him.

Finally, Grian turned away from the screen to meet Xisuma with his usual blank expression, “Guns are dangerous. They’re not fun or cool.” He sighed and returned to a more relaxed tone than the previously strained one, “I was just bored.”

Well, that put Xisuma slightly at ease, at least this guy wasn’t some kind of gun fanatic. He’d definitely met a few in highschool, and of those he knew most of them were not in the best of places.

Fwhip, who was now sat between Xisuma and Scott, looked up from his phone, “Aren’t gun mods illegal though? I’ve only seen guns in movies or in displays.”

“I don’t know,” Scott murmured, “I know that there were a lot of protests for more laws to be put in place a few years ago, it was pretty topical when we started our player welfare course.”

Xisuma picked up his phone and quickly searched the internet, “Well, apparently up until recently it was up to admins to have bans on weapon mods. Guns were only just banned on permadeath servers, along with some other things.”

Grian looked intrigued, a rare show of emotion, “They finally passed that law?” His expression melted into flippant curiosity, “Seems like that was a long time waiting.”

“Yeah,” Fwhip agreed, “I don’t know anyone who’s been shot before, but apparently it really hurts, especially on limited respawn servers.”

Xisuma bit his cheek, because he did know people who had been shot before - maybe not on his home server, but through the people he had associated with as a teenager.

“It kinda sucks, but you get used to it after a while.” Grian informed them incredibly casually. He seemed to notice their expressions, and only then he furrowed his brow as if he was confused.

Xisuma shared a look with the other two, just making sure that they were all just as surprised by the nonchalant admission.

Grian tilted his head, “Um.” he pressed his lips together in a sort of grimace, “I used to play on a lot of, uh, servers. Like, recreational. Shooting.” 

The TV finished another ad break, and the film started again. The next gunshot made Grian slightly flinch. His fingers were still twitching.

“Yeah, like paintball.” He continued, “I used to play paintball with my friends, being shot by those close-range really hurts.”

Scott picked up the lie, “Oh, right, I know what you mean.” He either was incredibly gullible, or just wanted to whisk the room away from the tense feeling hanging in the air, “Sorry man, we were talking about actual guns, not paintball!”

“Sorry,” Grian said quietly, “Sorry, I’m not very good at explaining, my brain tends to jump from topic to topic too fast for me to clarify.” He laughed, and the coverup was almost seamless, but Xisuma saw the way that Grian panicked. Xisuma was going to figure this guy out and confront him, because there was something odd going on here. 

“I’m going out for another smoke before I go to sleep.” Grian stood up and started stalking towards the door, “Ten minutes, see you.” 

The soft shift-thud of the door seemed to drain the awkward, tense energy from the room, and Scott even visibly relaxed his shoulders.

“Bit of a weird guy, isn’t he?” Fwhip started, looking up from his phone again, “Though I guess every dorm has one strange guy.” He laughed softly at the shallow joke.

Scott shook his head, “I dunno, he’s definitely hiding something, he’s very cagey.”

“You can say that again.” Xisuma sighed, “I’m not really one to gossip, but he’s been nothing but cold to me the entire time, borderline rude.”

Running his fingernails over a velvet pillow, Scott hummed, “I think he’s just nervous. Plus, we don’t know what’s going on inside his head, we can’t just assume that he’s a bad guy.”

“He just seems like he doesn’t want to be here.” Xisuma shrugged, “He’s been apathetic towards any conversation we try to have about anything.”

Fwhip rubbed his hand on his jaw, “He seemed pretty nice towards us, just really odd.”

“It’s probably just first day nerves.” Xisuma reasoned, “We’ll see over the next week. I’m going to go to sleep now.”

He stood up, and thanked the two friends for being welcoming on the first day, before slipping down the hall into his half decorated room. Letting his phone quietly play some music, Xisuma washed up and got into his sleepwear.

(Dorm 42 chat)

(22:28)

<Xisuma> see you in the mornin

<Smajor> goodnight!

<Smajor> did u wanna go into town tmr ?

<Smajor> fwhip and grian both do

<Xisuma> Sure, I need a few things

<FWhip> we were just gonna buy shit food but yeh

<Xisuma> yeah I need groceries 

(02:04)

<Smajor> who just opened the door

<Grian> me sorry

<Grian> sorry for wakeing you

<Grian> smoking

(02:30)

<Smajor> u still out there?

<Grian> opps 

<Grian> on way back now sorry

<Smajor> alright

(06:18)

<Xisuma> Off to the gym, be back in two hours or so :-) 

(07:55)

<Smajor> shoulda known u were a gym guy

<Grian> are we still going to town today?

<FWhip> think sooo

<Smajor> I’m going at least

<Xisuma> On the way back!

<Xisuma> Picked up some bread, butter and jam

<Smajor> LEGEND

<FWhip> thank youu 

<Smajor> suma ur my fave

<FWhip> :( 

Grian put down his phone, running his hands through his hair, noting that he needed to try the new shower some time today. With a swift motion, he threw off his large sleep shirt and let it land in a ball with the blanket. The oversized shirt he slept in was one of the few things he had kept with him after the total code collapse of his highschool server. He had been evacuated with his rucksack, which contained pretty much what he had brought with him here. 

It had once belonged to Sam. It had always brought some kind of twisted comfort to Grian - by now he could look back in retrospect and know that Sam had been cruel, but Grian had been close friends with Sam for years, and he knew that Sam was a good person, deep down-

He cut himself off with a groan. Grian wasn’t supposed to think about Sam anymore.

The door to the main room gently thudded shut, Xisuma must be back. Grian splashed his face with cold water, used his wet hands to coax his hair out of its wild bedhead state, then made himself presentable. His old red jumper was the last thing he threw on before stepping out, adjusting it as he walked into the common room.

Fwhip and Scott were still in their pyjamas, the latter staring at the kettle holding a mug with instant coffee. Okay, okay, this was normal, these people are normal, Grian has to act like a normal person. 

Xisuma noticed him, and the atmosphere seemed to shift almost imperceivably, but Grian saw every little change in body language. It came from years of practice. 

“Morning, guys.” Grian tried a smile, but it felt foreign on his face, “How was everyone’s first night?”

Scott picked up the kettle and poured boiling water into his mug, “I don’t really do well sleeping in new places, probably why you managed to wake me up with hardly anything.”

He almost flinched, “Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughed, “I needed some air.” The words hung stale in the air.

Scott and Xisuma shared a look, and suddenly Grian was missing footholds in the climb of the conversation, there was something he didn’t know and he was plummeting downwards into unpredictableness-

“I’m sorry.” Grian repeated, and it stung him like all the other times, “If I was a bit of an arsehole to any of you.” He threw that out there, because Salted and Boule had both told him that he was an arsehole, and a dickhead, and rude. They said it was funny, so much anger in such a little weedy seventeen-year-old, who was so easy to scare the shit out of, especially when he wasn’t sober. Which, to be honest, was a lot of the time.

“I don’t really- I haven’t really got the hang of being a normal person.” Grian bit out, “I was an arsehole in high school,” - that was putting it very lightly, a better word would have been ‘murderer’ - “but I’m trying to be better.”

Fwhip nodded, pulling his toast out of the toaster, whilst Scott fixed Fwhip with an ‘I told you so’ look. 

“That makes sense now.” Xisuma sighed, “I’m so sorry, I’ve been trying to interrogate you this whole time.” He let out a little stressed laugh.

Fwhip, around half a mouthful of dry toast, said, “Well this is a great start to our year.”

And, for the first time in while, Grian laughed properly, breathless and near-silent. It was a pathetic laugh, but it was all he could ever handle, and was usually the kind of laugh reserved for Taurtis. 

The laughing died down. Scott had a really nice laugh. 

“Alright recovering problem child,” Scott held back a chuckle, “do you want coffee?”

Grian sighed, “Please.” He smiled gratefully at Scott.

“You’re still weird though.” Fwhip commented, waving his half eaten toast.

Grian raised his brows, “You’re eating toast with no butter. Or anything.”

Xisuma added, “You’re both peculiar,” He looked to Grian, “do you want any toast, problem child?”

Grian rolled his eyes, “Do not make that a nickname.” He took his coffee, taking a small sip, “And I can’t stomach food this early.”

“Let’s sit down and eat first,” Scott suggested, “then we can spend an hour or two doing some more organising of our stuff, ‘cause void knows I need it. Then we go hit the town.”

Xisuma nodded, pulling up a chair, “The dorms feel super cramped coming from my room at home, I still don’t know how I’m going to fit all my stuff in there without shoving half of it under the bed.”

“Oh, wait, show us your room from home, you seem like the kind of guy to have a really nice set up,” Fwhip asked, coming to sit at the table with them.

Grian once again felt like the odd one out here - he couldn’t exactly just show them a photo of Salted’s sofa. He wasn’t even sure if he had such a thing.

Xisuma showed them a large room with a slanted ceiling either side, a low double bed with lots of throws and posters pinned up on the wall, fairy lights strung around and a sleek adjustable desk with two monitors. It really was impressive, Grian definitely thought it suited what little he knew about Xisuma.

Scott and Fwhip both showed photos of their rooms, Scotts was a bit bigger than the dorms and much messier than Xisuma’s, with photos and posters covering a large amount of the wall space. Fwhip’s was a shared room, it was a strange shape and had a fold-out divider screen. 

When they asked Grian, he shrugged, “I don’t have any photos.”

Did he have any photos of any rooms?

Just as Scott sighed in disappointment, Grian corrected himself, “Scratch that, I have a photo here somewhere of my old room last year…”

It was the one in Sam’s basement, the one that Grian hated the most but also had the most memories of. He pulled up a picture of a physical photo, fingers in frame where he had held down the pages of his notebook.

“Here, it’s not very good quality, but this was where I stayed for like eight months.” Grian passed his phone over to Xisuma, “Don’t you look through my camera roll.” He meant it seriously - on either side was probably a selfie of him next to a crime scene.

“Is this in a basement?” Xisuma asked, looking at the cramped room, the old mattress on the floor and the office chair that Grian had found in a hedgerow.

He sighed, “Yeah, that was when I was living in my friend’s basement for a while.”

Scott looked at it, “That door there is creepy as fuck.”

With a peer over Scott’s shoulder, Fwhip nodded in agreement.

“It was.” Grian laughed coldly, knowing all too well about that door.

Scott zoomed into the door, “Who the fuck has a basement room that locks from the outside?”

“We were renting.” Grian shrugged. He knew that was a lie. He also knew why Sam put a lock on the outside of that door. He took his phone back from Scott.

Xisuma sighed, “Grian, I somehow have more questions about you whenever I learn something new.”

Grian laughed, “Thanks,” He grinned, wide and mischievous, “It’s my problem child charm.”

(Dorm 42 chat)

(09:29)

(<Smajor > changed < Grian >’s display name to < problemchild>)

<problemchild> oh what the hell

<Smajor> thats what u get

<Xisuma> Haha 

<problemchild> I am not a child

<FWhip> cope

Chapter Text

The town centre was fairly busy, and after a few hours of exploration, they were ready for a sit down in a quiet patch of shade. Scott seemed to have a knack for navigating new places, and he led them to a small park tucked between buildings.

Xisuma pulled out the ready meal he’d bought, only some chicken pasta salad, and sat down at the picnic bench. He’d shared his meal deal with Grian, as he didn’t want the snack or drink that came in the deal, but Grian only wanted a snack and a monster energy. Xisuma almost lectured him on how bad energy drinks were, but Grian seemed to read his expression of distaste, and assured Xisuma that he knew how bad it was for him.

He wasn’t even going to start on how Grian was eating a Kitkat for lunch like it was a balanced meal.

“It’s a pretty nice place,” Scott mused, pulling his sandwich open and re-distributing the slices of chicken breast, “I still need some clothes hangers, plus a load of stuff for the bathroom.”

Grian nodded, “I didn’t even realise that we would get our own showers, I no longer have to hide my hair conditioner from my roommates.” 

Fwhip laughed, stirring his tomato pasta with a wooden fork, “I don’t have to fight with anyone over who gets to shower when!” 

“I mean, I’m too tall for the shower head. It comes up to my shoulder.” Xisuma added with a small smile, “It makes shampooing my hair easy, but washing it off is a free leg workout.”

Scott erupted in chuckles, and Fwhip almost choked on the juice drink he had just sipped. Grian, who had finished his Kitkat and was now rolling tobacco, laughing silently. Another odd little habit, one that made Xisuma more concerned than scared. Maybe the last day he had been reading Grian wrong.

“Oh, by the way,” Scott started, “Did anyone get any summer prep work for their courses?”

Xisuma nodded, “Yeah, I got emailed a preliminary knowledge test, but that may be something exclusive to the sophisticated admin course.”

“Yeah, I forgot you were doing the nerd course,” Fwhip said, “What is actually different about it?”

With a deep inhale, Xisuma ignored the snide comment, “It’s just like general admin, but with a couple extra classes and a lot more content. Plus, you’re expected to be the next generation of trailblazers.” 

He exhaled. The pressure to become something memorable, someone great, it was a lot. But Xisuma had worked his way from the ground up, from being someone not too dissimilar from what Grian seemed to be working his way up from, and now his family had great expectations. He was the golden child now, after-

“Sounds like a lot.” Scott stated, opening a pack of crisps, “Too much pressure.”

Xisuma stared at his pasta salad, “Tell me about it.” he sighed, “It’s my passion, but my family have always pushed me to be more academic. This was their dream come true as well as mine.”

“My family don’t want to hear from me anymore,” Scott laughed, it was almost sad, but also gleeful in a way, “I think they had a party the day I left.” There was almost spite in the way Scott spat the words, and that was the most negative emotion Xisuma had seen from the man. 

Fwhip interjected, “My dad left and my consequent ‘step-dad’s have all been class-A bastards.” He grinned at them, “Scott knows all of the shit that went down.”

“Good to know we all have something in common.” Grian drawled, sounding nasally from the cigarette, “My parents abandoned me.”

Xisuma almost inhaled a piece of chicken. Well, if that didn’t explain some things, he thought. Being kicked out or abandoned really screws with a kid’s mind, and Xisuma had definitely hosted his fair share of couch surfers in his room before, either because their parents didn’t want them in the house or because they couldn’t stand to be in the house. 

“So, game plan for the rest of today?” Scott announced, “What do we have left to get?”

(Dorm 42 chat)

(14:42)

< FWhip > we buying drinks

< FWhip > do u drink X?

< Xisuma > Nope :-) 

< problemchild > okay cool

< problemchild > hows the home store?

< Smajor > busy asf

< Xisuma > It appears everyone has had the same idea as us

< FWhip > grian is buying the cheapest nastiest vodka ever

< problemchild > Im a student its not for the taste

< Xisuma > Just don’t get blackout drunk

< problemchild > its fineee im a profesonal 

< Smajor > didnt u say u just turned 18?

< FWhip > hes checking out

< FWhip > and avoiding the question as well

< Xisuma > Drugs aren’t cool Grian

< problemchild > oh I dont really do drugs anymore

< Xisuma > Good to hear? I think?

< problemchild > what? everyone tries stuff at least once

< Xisuma > Anyway

< Xisuma > Blue & pink fairy lights or purple & turquoise?

< Smajor > I vouch for purple

< FWhip > same

< problemchild > defo purple and turquoise

< problemchild > sounds chill

< Xisuma > Thank you

< Xisuma > we’re also buying some mugs and bowls

< FWhip > i trust scotts design choices

< Smajor > wow stereotyping much

< FWhip > that was a compliment 

Fwhip laughed and shook his head, closing the chat and meeting Grian outside the off-licence. He was licking the edge of a paper and rolling it tight. Fwhip had wondered how long it would be after lunch until Grian needed another smoke.

“Hey man.”

Grian looked up, “Hiya.” He pulled out a clipper and lit his cigarette smoothly, walking along with Fwhip.

“How long have you been smoking now?” Fwhip asked, curious. 

Grian paused as he dragged and exhaled the smoke, “Since I was about fourteen.” He flicked the cigarette with his thumbnail, turning it over in his fingers like a nervous tic, “Don’t be telling Scott or Ex-eye-soo-whatever that.”

Fwhip cackled, “You mean Xisuma?”

“Yeah.” Grian sighed, before dragging on his smoke again. Fwhip watched as the embers burned brighter, and the smoke whirlpooled in the light breeze. 

“Don’t worry, I know how Scott can get,” Fwhip assured, “He’s a caretaker, and I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but he means well.”

Grian nodded, but his expression stayed as firm and unreadable as ever. Fwhip could literally see the defensive walls that Grian had built up around himself. He knew how it felt when you spun yourself into a parody of your own person, so that maybe when you were hurt, it hurt a little less, only to find that somewhere in the stitching of your endless parodies, you’d dropped a stitch, and now your true person had unravelled, unremarkable against the mess of fake selves. You’d lost yourself in trying to save yourself.

“Everyone means well.” Grian replied snarkily, and there was that defensive persona that they had seen yesterday.

Fwhip didn’t let it hurt him, “He’ll back off if you tell him. And, well, I don’t know much about Xisuma, but he seems like a reasonable guy.”

“Sure.” Grian replied, taking a longer inhale of smoke.

Fwhip felt his phone buzz, so he pulled it from his pocket to check the chat, eager for a distraction.

(Dorm 42 chat)

(14:56)

< Xisuma > We’re checking out then we’re leaving 

< Smajor > be back at dorms in like 20 mins

< problemchild > fwhip and i will head back now

< Smajor > nice, see ya back at base o7

< FWhip > you got it 

(15:22)

< FWhip > haha we beat you back home

< Smajor > we’re on campus

Scott fumbled with his keycard, eventually swiping it on the door and pushing it open with his shoulder. Xisuma followed behind him, still explaining the type of stuff he’d been doing on his apprenticeship. It was really intriguing, and gave Scott a good idea of the type of things they’d be learning about in the general admin course.

The conversation died down as they greeted Fwhip and Grian, who seemed to have bonded very well. Scott put it up to them both being little shits. Not that he knew Grian well enough to call him that, but it was evident that he was going to be mischievous and irritating in the same endearing way that Fwhip sometimes was. The two of them together spelled trouble. 

However, he wasn’t too bothered by it in the bigger picture. Fwhip seemed to have coaxed Grian out of that defensive, anxious mood he was often in, and that meant they could get a clearer picture of Grian’s true character.

Scott made his way to the common room sofa and curled up in the corner, pulling his phone out and checking his messages.

“Guys, the welcome talk is at half twelve tomorrow for general admin,” Scott informed the room, “They’re handing out lecture timetables and examination dates.”

Fwhip made a noise of disgust, “I don’t want to think about exams yet.”

“The last time I got my school timetable I had to get in a boxing ring with the guidance counsellor,” Grian stated offhandedly.

Scott chuckled at that, until he realised Grian wasn’t laughing. When Grian put it together that everyone thought it was a joke, he smiled, but Scott had a sneaking suspicion the random statement held some truth.

“If you think that’s funny,” he drawled, “you should have seen the rest of the staff at that place. He was probably the most normal.”

Scott decided he probably didn’t want to know any more about Grian’s old school.

“I’m going to set up my fairy lights,” Xisuma announced, walking towards the corridor, “See you guys later.”

Scott wished Xisuma luck on setting up his lights, then got up and found the multipack of rice-crispy bars that he’d bought, all set up in cupboard number two, his new food stash, one which would not have people trying to steal from it constantly. He sat down again and switched on the TV, wanting something calm to watch, something to distract him but not too fast-paced that he couldn’t relax. He settled on a nature documentary about deep sea creatures, enjoying the calming voice explaining all the little freaks that lived kilometres under the ocean's surface.

Grian sighed and swiped up a handful of playing cards from the table as Fwhip giggled, almost super villain-like. He’d been viciously losing to the other student at some two-player game, despite it being based entirely on luck. Well, actually, that might make more sense, as Grian’s luck tended to be so awful it was ironically funny.

He watched in despair as Fwhip placed a jack, then his next card was a seven of hearts. Not a picture card, meaning he had to pick up the pack again. From the couch, Scott was laughing quietly at their ridiculous game.

“I might take up solitaire.” Grian seethed, placing a king, “No particular reason.”

Fwhip slammed two cards and then an ace. Great, Grian could do an ace.

“It’s four tries with an ace, right?” He asked.

Fwhip nodded, watching intently.

Two useless cards, then a queen. Grian almost jumped out of his seat when he saw it, causing Fwhip to start giggling again.

Fwhip beat it in two with another queen, then Grian lost to that, picking up the pack and putting it at the bottom of his ever-increasing hand. 

Just as Grian thought he had caught Fwhip with one card left in his hand, and a jack sat on top of the playing pile, Fwhip flipped the card over without even looking.

“Oh what the fuck!” Grian almost flipped the flimsy little table. 

Another jack. Grian even placed down the next face down card from his pile, and as if it could get any worse, it was just another useless card.

Fwhip was breathless with giggles, “Holy shit that was so funny,” He wheezed, “Usually these games go on forever- I won so fast-”

Even Scott was dying from laughter, and it soon got Grian to break his fake sulking face and shake with his own silent laughter.

This was fun, this was how you were supposed to play games with friends. Grian didn’t feel the need to twist the game and let Sam win, just to avoid any possible mood swings or violent outbreaks. None of these guys would threaten him if he beat them in Uno - maybe they would slightly, but they wouldn’t follow through with it like Sam. Threatening to gut someone and actually attempting it were two very different things.

“It’s like six now,” Grian noted, “I might make some food now.”

Fwhip looked up from shuffling the cards, “Oh, sure. I bet you’re starving, man.” 

Now that Grian actually paid attention to it, he was hungry, he’d only had a double Kitkat today. When he was stressed, his appetite dropped drastically, and Grian was stressed most of the time.

Oh well, he shrugged it off and found an instant noodle pot that looked alright, then boiled the kettle. Whilst it was boiling, he darted back to his room to find his chopsticks - another thing from Sam. Possibly one of the only gifts he’d ever received from the guy, and he treasured them. 

“Oo, look at you, being all fancy,” Fwhip remarked upon seeing the chopsticks, “I’ve never been able to get the hang of them.”

Grian drained his now soft noodles, and found the flavour packet, using the chopsticks to squeeze out all of the sauce, “I spent a while on a Japanese server.” Now that was an incredibly simplified way of saying it. 

“Woah, that’s kinda cool actually,” Fwhip said as he stirred the flavour packed into his noodles - they were the kind that made a broth as well.

Grian hummed, “Yeah, it wasn’t like the super developed ones you see people going on holidays to, or the beautiful cherry blossom and huge landscapes with mountains that you see in anime cartoons.” he grimaced, “It was just a residential server, and a cheap one at that.”

Fwhip seemed to drop the subject, focusing instead on his dinner. Grian did the same, making his way through the pot of noodles at lightning speed. 

Once the noodles were inhaled, Grian found a small glass and filled it up a couple of centimetres with vodka. Only about two shots, not much, but enough that he knew it would soothe his constant anxiety.

He sat down on the sofa, and took a long sip. Scott raised his eyebrows.

“What is wrong with you people,” Scott tutted, “instant noodles and vodka sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

Grian laughed half-heartedly through the delicious burn in his throat, “I’ve done worse.”

“Nope, not asking,” Scott shook his head, “I’ll just be even more concerned, and I don’t have the energy for that right now.”

They both turned their attention to the TV, some boring news segment. The news anchor started explaining a new story, a pretty typical case of admin neglect on another cheap residential server. They’d been cracking down on residential servers since the complete code collapse of a certain massive residential server around a year ago. Grian knew that being on the list of the few survivors was the reason he’d gotten such a good grant from the Administration Council, plus an almost guaranteed spot at the uni. 

The server from the news segment looked to be relatively small, but pretty popular with players going off server to go and find something illegal to take the pain away for a few short breaths. It looked like some of the places Grian had gone, to be honest, especially in the months after he’d escaped. Sometimes it was more reassuring to bathe yourself in familiar violence than unpredictable kindness.

He took the last shot of vodka, relishing in the grounding feeling of burning. It made his limbs feel less heavy, the world seemed more lighthearted, like they were in a comedy series, and no matter what happened today the world would be back at the baseline normal tomorrow.

The world passed around him, and Xisuma was cooking a meal, then Scott microwaved something and was eating a wrap. Grian opened his phone and found some familiar numbers, typing out another message.

(Taurtis)

(18:49)

< Grian > heyy u wont belive wat ive bin doin

< Grian > im at admin university

< Grian > im gonna be an adimn 

< Grian > please answer soon

(Samgladiator)

(18:52)

< Grian > istill have the chopsitcks u gave em

< Grian > theyre really nice

< Grian > sorry for leaving you

< Grian > i can still be good friend?

(19:01)

< Grian > are you alive?

He’d slunk out of the dorm with the excuse of needing a cigarette - which he did - whilst he actually really needed to just sit in the cool dusk air and cry for a bit. Tears didn’t come, they never did, but he pressed his knuckles into his eyes and waited for the anguish to pass over him in waves. 

With shaky hands, he rolled himself a cigarette. It didn’t taste foul when he was drunk, and left him feeling like his blood was buzzy and warm, like an old streetlamp, flickering, fighting to stay on, ringing in his ears.

Taurtis was gone. Grian knew that he was gone, he should have come to terms with it, the real Taurtis died years ago and Sam only wanted a replacement. He’d settle for a clone. Grian would mourn the real Taurtis he had grown up with.

And Sam. Sam was dead. He was at least gone from Grian’s life, dead for all intents and purposes. 

This always happened when he got drunk, he got sad and fucked up. Being in a school had brought the feelings back up, and Grian almost sobbed when he let his gaze drift up to the rooftop of block five, old memories filling in the sunset shadows with a figure. 

Troubled kids, and Grian always made it worse for them. Always found a way to fuck it up more.

“Grian?” A soft voice called out, “The other two were a bit worried about you.”

Grian looked up to find Xisuma, features lit up softly by the evening light.

“I’m fine,” he choked out unconvincingly, “just thinking.”

Xisuma hummed, then sat on the brick wall that surrounded the entrance to block seven, “I think you need to go to bed and sleep the vodka off,” he suggested, “It was really silly to drink straight vodka after eating so little during the day.”

Swallowing down the yawning fear, Grian tried to speak, but the words caught in his mouth. He resorted to taking a deep drag on his cigarette, feeling small in the so very calm and perfected presence of Xisuma. 

“Come on, let’s head up to the dorm.”

Grian whined, leaning back against the cold brick and sinking further into the concrete floor. He took another puff, almost petulantly, like he was childishly protesting against the way Xisuma talked down to him. He wasn’t a kid. He hadn’t really ever been able to be a kid, and now he was paying for it with impulsive and stupid decisions.

“You need water at least.” Xisuma tried to convince him, “It’ll make you feel better, then you can go to sleep.”

Leaning back, Grian looked up at Xisuma, the dizzy feeling of alcohol and nicotine feeling overwhelming and reassuring, “I’m sorry you have to deal with this on the second night.” He almost cried again, “Thank you for being nice to me.”

Xisuma frowned, “I haven’t really been nice, I’m just trying to get you to come back to the dorm.” He stood up and walked around the wall, offering Grian a hand.

He took it, standing up and taking one last drag on his smoke before shuffling over to the metal cigarette bin mounted on the side of the wall. He put it out and threw it away. Xisuma opened the door with his keycard, and let Grian walk in.

“Have you been, uh, settling into the dorms okay?” Grian asked, focusing on walking in a straight line to the elevator.

Xisuma laughed slightly, “Yeah, didn’t realise I was going to be the big brother, I’m not really used to it.”

Grian, in his slightly drunken boldness, grinned and said, “You’d make a good big brother,” the elevator slowed to a stop, “you’re already stopping me from making more stupid decisions.”

Chuckling, Xisuma led him out of the elevator and down the hall to their door, “Just don’t do this again, I’m not your dad, I won’t pick you up when you’re blackout drunk.”

Grian laughed, feeling his sadness retreat and a warm feeling swirl in his muddied head, “Okay, dad…” he snickered.

They entered the common room, Scott and Fwhip sat tensely on the couch.

“I am not allowed vodka for a while.” Grian blurted, stepping towards the kitchen and filling a glass with cold water.

He saw Xisuma put his hand up to his face out of the corner of his eye. 

“You said you knew what you were doing.” Scott snarked, sounding somewhere between joking and serious.

Grian immediately countered with his defences suddenly up high, like a fluffed up cat in a corner, “Yeah, well. Salted and Boule didn’t care if I got drunk and hid away for a bit.” He tried his best to put on that fake nonchalance, “They scare me when I get drunk or fucked up. Worst trip-sitters in the world.”

Scott looked hurt. Lost for words and mildly shocked as well. Scott, who had tried his best to be nice to him, and now Grian had misinterpreted a joke and snapped at him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that was-” Grian took a step back, flinching when he saw Xisuma move out of the corner of his eye.

“Grian, are you sure you’re in the right place to start uni?” Xisuma asked.

He froze, stomach turning to ice and dropping like a person does when you shoot them, ragdolling. Grian didn’t know. He didn’t know if he was ready.

“I’m just adjusting.” He attempted, “I don’t do well in new places, really, if you could tell, I-”

Fwhip, who had been mostly silent, finally spoke up, “I’d help you adjust.” He smiled, wide and without that oh-so-familiar glint of something ulterior behind the kindness. It was genuine, not jaded, bright and Grian couldn’t quite work it out.

Scott nodded, “We can help you adjust.” He stood up, walking over to Grian, “You just have to put in the effort, open up a bit, and we can help you.”

“You’re stuck with us.” Xisuma stated.

Slowly, Scott held out his hands, nearing Grian’s own. His hands were still cold and slightly tingly from the nicotine. When Scott gently took his hands, the palms that held him were warm and broad and strong. 

“I’ll try to adjust.” Grian promised, “Thank you for helping me.”

Fwhip jumped up, “Hey, we’re all going to help each other. Everyone is going to have a bad day, and on that same day someone else will have the means to help them.” 

Xisuma smiled, “I think we’re a team.”

Grian nodded.

“Now, let’s get you to bed.”

(Dorm 42 chat)

(20:11)

< Smajor > i need an early night XD

< problemchild > uhuuh so do i

< FWhip > go to sleep then silly

< problemchild > be warned i have night terrors

< Smajor > coulda guessed that tbh

< problemchild > rude

< problemchild > any talking/shouting/screaming

< problemchild > that me

< Xisuma > Okay, I very rarely have night terrors but I definitely sleep talk

< FWhip > I sleepwalk sometimes

< FWhip > you might see that as exams approach hahaha

(< Smajor > changed the chat name to ‘social experiment’)

< FWhip > pahahhaha

(< Smajor > changed their display name to < scott >)

(< scott > changed < FWhip >’s display name to < potnoodle >)

< potnoodle > very funny scoot

< scott > I am hilarious

< Xisuma > what is my funny name :-D 

< potnoodle > hes thinking

< potnoodle > careful scoot your two brainclels might fuse and cause a nuclear explosion if u think too hard

(< scott > changed < Xisuma >’s display name to < olderbro >)

< olderbro > All that wait for that

< scott > fuckthe shut up

< potnoodle > hahshashhsHAAA

< scott > goodnight mfs

(06:19)

< olderbro > everyone

< olderbro > Grian has somehow sleepwalked and fallen asleep on the sofa.

(07:38)

< potnoodle > toofucking early for this shit

< scott > why is he on the sofa XD

< potnoodle > i thought i heard movement las night

(08:21)

< problemchild > i hate sleepwalking

< problemchild > showering

< problemchild > talk in fifteen mins

< scott > okay B)

Xisuma closed his phone and placed it on the side, returning his attention to the frying pan and his smoky paprika scrambled eggs. His toast was almost done, he just needed to take it out of the toaster. Switching off the stove, Xisuma plated his toast and placed some cottage cheese on each slice, then the scrambled eggs. Salt and pepper, plus a steaming hot cup of tea, and that was his perfect post-workout breakfast.

He didn’t really want to go to the welcome talk this morning, but maybe that was his punishment for choosing to put himself through sophisticated admin when he could have just chosen to do general. Whatever made his parents proud, he mused. The talk started at eleven, and it lasted an hour. The general admin talk, which the rest of his dorm would be going to, started at half twelve, so it was no big worry that Fwhip and Scott hadn’t even left their rooms yet.

Sitting down at the table, Xisuma started his breakfast with vigour, taking care to savour each bite. The thought he put into each bite made him appreciate the food, meaning he didn’t find himself needing any snacks because he was bored. Xisuma had spent years tuning into his body, and he knew most of the ins and outs of it by now, knew when something was wrong or when something needed to change.

University would be a big change, it would mean a higher level of general stress and less time to make food. Therefore, he would get creative. They had a freezer drawer, and he could cook in bulk and freeze portions. 

Xisuma was ready for term to start. The scrawny teenager who padded out into the common room wearing the same clothes as yesterday, however, didn’t seem so prepared.

“Morning Grian, did you sleep okay, besides the sleepwalking?”

Grian ran himself a glass of water and sat opposite Xisuma, cradling the glass in his hands and sipping slowly, “I slept okay. Weird dreams, but I guessed that would happen.” Grian looked up to him through his still damp hair, “How did you sleep?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t the greatest, still getting used to the place,” He answered, “You remind me of my past self, to a point.”

Grian scoffed, taking another slow, deliberate sip.

“No, really. I used to be a right pain in high-school,” Xisuma explained, “I was awful and I knew it, and I just did it because it felt better than being the one getting hurt.”

“Sure, big bro, whatever you say.” Grian grinned, taking obvious joy in making Xisuma mildly irritated.

He sighed, finishing his mouthful, “You’re the perfect level of annoying for a little brother.”

Grian tsked, “I’m a middle child, actually.”

Now, that was a surprisingly normal piece of information about Grian.

Xisuma almost laughed, “That makes a lot of sense, to be honest.”

There was a comfortable silence as Xisuma finished his breakfast and Grian slowly rolled a cigarette.

“What hobbies do you have?” Xisuma asked out of the blue. It wasn’t intrusive enough that Grian would default to his defensive snarky shock value, but it might also give Xisuma more to work with on figuring out the strange man.

Grian hummed, “I don’t really know.” He tapped his fingers on the table, “I was working as a builder before this, for a short film company. They make comedy skits.”

“But in your freetime?” Xisuma prompted.

Grian’s confusion crossed into frustration, “I don’t know. Sleeping? I used to play a few video games with my old friends.”

Xisuma nodded, “Yeah, fair enough.”

Grian slumped back into his chair at the indication that the question had been answered. 

Xisuma decided not to press any more, the kid had had a hard night and this clearly wasn’t getting anywhere. He just decided to bury the concern for today, he’d come back for it later, but for now he needed to put away his dishes and get ready for the day.

Chapter Text

Grian walked with Scott and Fwhip away from the lecture hall, feeling oddly confident with his two new friends and the incredibly normal welcome talk. It had been weighing on his mind in the form of paranoid thoughts that maybe this place was like all of his past school experiences, but the hour of rambling had somehow made him content in the fact that this was a normal establishment.

“So it’s five lectures a fortnight,” Fwhip thought out loud, “And one experience day.”

Scott huffed a laugh, “Why do they call it that?”

“I’ve got an extra class,” Grian added, “I’ve got basic skills, since I don’t have any actual high school qualifications.”

Fwhip tilted his head, “How the hell did you get in?” Then he held up his hands, “Wait, sorry, that was a bit on the nose-”

Grian didn’t take offence, “I thought the same, but apparently my application was so heart-wrenching they decided to offer me a pity place.” He grinned, watching as Scott half choked and Fwhip giggled lightly.

“There you go again,” Scott said between laughs, “with your problem child charm.”

Grian smirked and flicked his hair, “I’m a natural, don’t worry.” 

This only caused Scott and Fwhip to wheeze harder, and soon Grian was joining them, careless to the looks thrown their way by other students. The looks weren’t like the nervous glances that students would flick over their shoulders when Sam walked down the corridor, no, they were much more simple. Just a curiosity as the absolute racket they were making. 

The laughter died down, and they made their way towards the student accommodation.

(social experiment)

(13:42)

< scott > we r on the way back now

< olderbro > Okay :-) 

(13:58)

< potnoodle > what are the things for the rest of the moving in week

< potnoodle > like weve had teh welcome speeches

< olderbro > Aren’t you literally one inch of drywall away from me?

< olderbro > Why are you texting

< scott > yeah fwhip

< potnoodle > im trying to get my ancient laptop to boot up

< potnoodle > i got bored and decided to text

< scott > loll

< olderbro > Fair enough

< scott > rip

< olderbro > From that shout it sounds like it may be updating

< potnoodle > …

< potnoodle > i fucking hate you guys

< scott > aww i love you too fwhip

(15:10)

< problemchild > whats everyone up to

< olderbro > playing video games :-D 

< olderbro > Testing out my new setup really

< scott > doomscrolling

< potnoodle > called my mother

< problemchild > damn

< olderbro > Fwhip the schedule for the introductory week is in the kitchen

< potnoodle > gotcha

< potnoodle > thanks big bro

< scott > i don’t think theres anything for us tomorrow

< olderbro > Nope

< potnoodle > i did not know there were clubs?

< scott > you didn’t?

< problemchild > oo clubs sounds fun

< potnoodle > we are going to the club signups on friday

< olderbro > I probably won’t do a club

< scott > sounds like a bit too much

< potnoodle > a few hours a week of chill time sounds good tho

< olderbro > I already go to the gym

< problemchild > I want to do a club

< potnoodle > ayy we’ll go together

< potnoodle > leave the killjoys here

< problemchild > perfect 

< scott > you mean somewhat responsible persons

< potnoodle > yeah killjoys

< problemchild > screw being responsible

< olderbro > is this how my parents felt?

< potnoodle > ASHHJFWNAHAHHA

< problemchild > idk never had parents

< potnoodle > BRO

< scott > i need alcohol

< potnoodle > and i need a dad

< potnoodle > but we rarely get what we need

< scott > what is wrong with yous

< problemchild > so many things

(18:22)

< problemchild > fwhip and i are eating pot noodle outside

< scott > literally why

< potnoodle > nice sky

Fwhip slid his phone back in his pocket and returned his focus on the plastic pot of noodles. Grian was sat beside him on the wall, stirring his noodles but not moving to eat them. He had the same pair of chopsticks as the other day, wooden with a small design on the very top of them. 

“You know,” Grian spoke quietly, “my friend gave me these.” He turned the chopsticks over in his hands.

Fwhip could feel the weight in those words, “That’s sweet.” He remarked.

Grian exhaled a tiny laugh, shaking his head, “Yeah.” He studied his hands, and Fwhip now only noticed in the evening light the handful of fading scars littered over both hands, knuckles scarred and calloused. They were the hands of a recovering troublemaker, and for a moment Fwhip wondered how much pain Grian had inflicted, and what he’d been faced with to build up those tall walls, and what kind of person he would be without all this hurt.

“I had just arrived back on the server,” Grian started, voice softer than ever, tone almost nostalgic, “I’d spent about a year trying to track down my parents - I met a few people but I never found them. I was only planning on staying a little while, then saying goodbye and returning to the friends I’d made, but some stuff happened and- yeah. These were the gift he gave me when I first arrived.”

Fwhip hummed, not finding any words to say. There were several stories left untold between the careful, quiet words of Grian, but he didn’t dare push. He hardly knew the guy, but would absolutely consider him a friend, and knew that it took a lot to share something like this, no matter how small. 

Fwhip had a mouthful of noodles, and turned his gaze to the setting sun as a few rays shone between two buildings. The tops of the blocks were glinting in orange light. 

“When Scott and I met on the welfare course,” Fwhip began, wanting to share his own little story, “I was about your age, and had just helped my mum fend off her last dickhead boyfriend. I met Scott, who at the time had been staying in a hostel after his family kicked him out. We bonded over our shared family troubles, and ended up scraping up enough money for a deposit on a shitty rental on a slightly dodgy residential server.” He laughed, remembering the awful studio flat that he’d spent a year of his life stuck in.

“Scott eventually got a better job, and I moved back in with my family after I finished the welfare course so I could save money for uni.” 

Grian nodded, finishing his mouthful, “So you and Scott have lived together before.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Fwhip laughed, “Worst place I’ve stayed long term.”

Grian carefully picked up some more noodles, and chewed as he hummed in thought, “I think one of the worst places I’ve lived in was this tiny townhouse directly next to the main base of operations for the local mafia.”

Fwhip almost choked on his noodles, “Shit, that is rough. And I thought we had it bad when we found out that one of the flats in our block was a crackhouse.”

Grian sucked in a breath through his teeth, “Yikes.”

There was a comfortable silence as the two of them ate their dinner. Fwhip was glad he had taken Grian’s offer to eat outside - it seemed weird at first, but the evening light and cool summer breeze made it beautiful to just sit and appreciate everything that had happened recently, and prepare for the next few years of studying.

“What do you want to do when you get your admin licence?” Grian asked.

Fwhip took a moment to think about it, “I think… I think I want to make a server where people can both have fun and relax. A private server for a few friends, probably, and not forever, but I want to make a safe space for people to be themselves.” He sighed, watching the little bit of broth swirl in the bottom of his noodles, “No massive servers, nothing that would make money and not whatever Scott is planning. I don’t need to be anything brilliant, just something nice.”

Grian smiled, “I want to do something similar.” He firmed his grip on the chopsticks a tad too tight, “Just a server where people care. And no-one gets hurt bad.”

Fwhip nodded. That sounded like a good enough idea. One day they would both be in charge of their own lives. He looked to the sky, the sun now out of view, but the golden hour cast the campus in serene evening light, long shadows and glinting windows. Grian was rolling a cigarette, and Fwhip noticed for the first time that he had a mild tremor in his hands, making the neat rollie even more impressive. 

“Bad places make people do bad things.” Grian mumbled, voice cracking from the smoke, “And good friends always die young.”

Fwhip nodded sagely, “We can help change that, though, even just a little bit.”

Smoke curled in the air as Grian exhaled again, and he shivered slightly from the falling chill of the evening, “Yeah.”

Grian, after finishing his noodles outside with Fwhip and playing a few card games in the common room, showered and climbed into bed. Their talk had left him with this warm feeling in his chest, something content and calming. A bit like the temporary carefree feeling he got from taking the painkillers he used to steal from the shitty school, but more genuine. 

As he lay in bed, still in Sam’s old t-shirt and with a tiny square cushion he nicked from the sofa for a pillow, Grian realised that he had made it past eighteen. He’d made it to something he thought he would never be, something that Sam would have called him delusional for. 

Grian wondered if Sam would be proud of him for making it this far. Grian wondered if Sam even cared enough to be proud.

He closed his eyes, but sleep was still far from reach, whereas his memories were floating to the surface of his consciousness. 

“Why are you using Rizla? That’s so shit.” Sam rolled his eyes, “Can you not afford proper papers?”

Grian glared at him in the dim light, “And you can’t afford half decent weed, hence why you’re stealing mine.”

Silence blanketed the small balcony. The outlines of the surrounding houses were illuminated in cold street lighting, but the tiny balcony was bathed in shadows. With such a calm night, one would be forgiven for thinking that this was a fairly normal town, not one verging on total code collapse. 

Grian carefully ripped a rectangle of card from the back of one of his school exercise books - from Dr Nurse MD’s class, of course - and rolled it up to use as a roach. 

“You’re awful.” Sam commented.

Grian almost laughed, “And you’re any better?”

“You’ve killed more people than me.” Sam shrugged.

“Because I can actually aim a fucking gun,” Grian retorted, “now give me the lighter.”

Sam passed the lighter over, striking it just as he passed it over, though Grian knew him well enough to not flinch.

“You’re no fun.” Sam moaned, leaning on the railing and watching Grian light up.

They fell mostly silent after that, settling into that familiar routine of passing the blunt back and forth after a few hits. It was pretty nasty stuff, and the tobacco could only do so much to smooth the taste. 

Grian finished it and stubbed out the butt, leaving it in the ashtray. The cool night held him in its gentle hands as his mind began to slow.

“You’re such a good friend, Gree-on.” Sam stated, almost emotionlessly, “I thought you were annoying a while ago, and you were a bit of a wimp.”

Grian swallowed, not knowing exactly what he had killed to make himself into what he was now. He had spun himself into something good. Just to survive.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t left me.” Sam giggled, “Promise you’ll never leave me?”

Grian’s room now felt cold, despite it being far too warm. He remembered the exact look in Sam’s eyes, haunted and desperate. He remembered his exact answer; never, I promise . Grian didn’t know if he’d broken his promise, or if Sam hadn’t really factored in the total collapse of the server. 

The dorm had fallen completely silent, the usual shuffle of people or drone of the TV was long gone, the night truly set in, and Grian was left without his usual comforting white noise. He checked his phone, it was only quarter past midnight, not ridiculously late. His roommates were probably on their phones in bed, or waiting for sleep. 

Grian was going to roll himself a smoke and go sit outside like every other night so far, that was until he heard the distinct hic-sniffle of someone crying. It was just on the other side of the drywall, it must have been Scott. Sure enough, Grian recognised the voice in the next sob to be the usually calm and upbeat student.

Ignoring noises at night was not something that Grian did, especially in unfamiliar spaces. So he crept out of bed, padding across the shit beige carpet and into the hall, gently knocking on Scott’s bedroom door.

Scott fumbled to pause his music when he heard movement and a light rap on his door, shit, had he been too loud? Was Fwhip checking on him to see if he was okay?

“Come in?” He half-whispered, mildly shocked when a head of wild blond hair slipped into the room, not the ginger he was expecting.

Grian smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, I know I’m not who you were hoping for.” he hesitated by the entrance to the main area, standing just forward of the bathroom door. 

Scott shook his head, “Don’t apologise,” he sniffed, wiping a few tears away, “I didn’t realise I was being loud.” He held up his over-ear headphones to prove the point, placing them on the bedside table. 

Even in the dark, Scott saw the flinch and the nervous glance Grian gave the headphones, which was really peculiar. Scott also realised that this was the first time that he’d seen Grian wearing anything other than that red jumper and jeans.

“It’s okay,” Grian shrugged, “I wasn’t sleeping, I was going to go out for a smoke.”

Scott felt another small wave of emotion, not enough to make him sob but enough to make him shiver and take a shaky inhale. 

“Would you mind if I came out with you tonight?” Scott offered, “Just to sit outside for a bit, clear my head.”

Grian looked a little taken aback, “Um. Sure.” 

He smiled, “Thanks, mate.” 

They left the dorm in silence, Scott slipping on his sliders and Grian shoving on his trainers barefoot, choosing to take the stairs instead of the lift.

“Oh, yeah, don’t judge the t-shirt,” Grian mumbled, “It’s one of the only things I have left from an old friend.”

Now that they were in a somewhat bright light, Scott could see what Grian meant. It was a light grey, or maybe originally white, and too big for Grian’s slim frame. It had a couple of suspicious looking stains, along with being a little threadbare in places and fraying at the hems.

“The blood’s not…” Grian stopped himself, “Actually it might be mine, I can’t remember.”

Scott laughed at the absurdity, brought out of his sadness for just a second. At that, Grian grinned triumphantly. 

They exited the building, and Grian sat down on the wall where Scott had seen him smoking before. Scott joined him.

“Do you mind rolling me one?” Scott asked quietly.

Grian furrowed his brow, “Are you sure? I didn’t think you…”

He sighed, “Yeah, usually I don’t unless I’m drunk, but I need it today.”

“If you’re sure.” Grian shrugged, handing his finished roll to Scott.

He waited for Grian to finish his own, then lit the cigarette with Grian’s clipper. In the cold night air, it was heavenly.

In the quiet, Scott found his mind turning back to what dark thoughts had been keeping him up, and in that same quiet, it finally felt safe enough to share some of himself with Grian. Whilst they were near-strangers, Scott trusted the student simply from what Fwhip had told him. 

“So Fwhip told you earlier that we had lived together for a while,” Scott started, and Grian nodded in affirmation, “So, I had to leave because my family chucked me out. And, well, they did that after I came out to them. As gay.”

Grian stared at him for a moment, and Scott almost thought he’d royally fucked up, then Grian exhaled the smoke and smiled warmly.

“Yeah, I sort of guessed that was what had happened,” he replied casually, “That’s pretty awful of them to do, but you’re better off without dickheads like them in your life.”

Scott nodded, taking a long drag and feeling the nicotine make everything go fuzzy for a moment.

“People you love, especially parents, can be the worst,” Grian spat, “I think you deserve better than… than someone who would leave you.” his face twisted into something beyond complicated, voice breaking on the last words. As soon as it came, it was gone, and Grian grinned kindly instead.

Scott smiled, “Thanks,” He inhaled the night air deeply, “Thank you for this. I get in my head about it sometimes.”

(social experiment)

(06:20)

< olderbro > Going gym

< scott > hav fun

< olderbro > wow

< scott > yeah i woke up early ;-;

< olderbro > Sorry :-) 

< scott > not ur fault mate

(08:29)

< problemchild > why is everyone always up so early

< problemchild > i usually sleep til about 3pm

< olderbro > now that’s not good for you

< potnoodle > i was practically nocturnal at some points of my life

< scott > can confirm

< potnoodle > when i was a bartender

< potnoodle > finished at like 3am

< scott > he used to get up in the evening

< problemchild > kinda like my job before this

< problemchild > except it had no set hours

< olderbro > you were a builder if I remember correctly?

< problemchild > yeah

(09:48)

< scott > what everyone up to today?

< olderbro > I’m going off server to get some stuff

< potnoodle > might go into the town

< scott > oo what you getting?

< olderbro > I need some bits for my course

< olderbro > and I want to stock up on some food from my home server :-) 

< potnoodle > such a good idea

< problemchild > Ive got a meeting for the basics course :(( 

< scott > aw man

< potnoodle > time?

< problemchild > 11am 

< scott > double ewww

< scott > we can walk you down when we go to town?

< potnoodle > youre coming with me to town?

< scott > Ive decided that yes I am

< potnoodle > welp

< problemchild > sounds good

Grian sent the message, then put his phone down as he pulled his jumper over his head, finishing getting dressed. It was now gone ten, and it sounded like all three students were still just in the dorm. He’d spent ages procrastinating in bed and was now feeling slightly cranky and very shaky from the long time without nicotine or caffeine. 

“Morning Grian!” Fwhip greeted as soon as he entered the common room. He was sat at the table with a small notebook. 

Grian sighed, “Morning all.” He gave Fwhip a tired smile.

“Coffee?” Scott asked from where he had been putting away clean dishes.

Grian nodded, joining Fwhip at the table and whipping out his tobacco from his back pocket of his jeans, “Thanks Scott.”

Scott started filling the kettle, “No worries. And thanks for last night, Grian,” he gave Grian a genuine smile.

Fwhip choked on air and almost dropped his pencil, “What did I miss?” He looked incredulously at Grian.

“For Void’s sake Fwhip, not like that.” Scott chided, like an irritated older sibling, “We just talked to each other.”

Grian laughed at the banter, winking at Fwhip to further agitate the two, only wheezing harder when Xisuma walked into the common room looking like he almost wanted to ask what was going on, but on second thought, he sighed like a tired dad and just made himself a cup of tea with no questions asked.

Chapter Text

After waving off Grian and wishing him luck in the welcome speech, Scott followed Fwhip out of campus and into the nearby town. Having already been there a few days earlier, they both knew a little of their way around. Scott took Fwhip to the bargain home store first, buying some extra cooking utensils and kitchen products, as well as a load of cleaning supplies. 

The stress of being responsible must’ve gotten to Fwhip, because the next place Scott found himself was in the small park they’d stopped at before, eating ready meal sandwiches. 

“So, what are your opinions on the introductory week so far?” Scott asked, knowing it was only Thursday, but next week the real uni experience would start.

Fwhip hummed, “Yeah, I think it’s going well. The campus seems really nice, and I’m looking forward to seeing what kind of clubs there are tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Scott added, “Even if I don’t sign up to anything.”

Sighing, Fwhip leaned back in mild frustration, “Come on man, you should. It’ll be fun.”

Scott chewed on his mouthful, raising his brows, “I said I’d go with you, chill.”

“How are you liking Admin school, then?” Fwhip asked, sipping his bottle of fizzy drink.

Scott thought on the question for a moment, things had been hectic lately, but almost good-chaos, if that was even a thing. Sure, last night had been a bit awful, and he was still feeling that pervasive chant of intrusive ‘ no one wants you, no one will ever want you ’ in the background, however, with enough good things he could drown it out a little easier.

“It’s been a thing,” Scott said, smiling, “I’m glad I’ve got good roommates.”

At that, Fwhip smirked, “Yeah you do,” He winked, then laughed at himself, “Hey, Xisuma and Grian are alright as well.”

Scott chuckled, picturing what the next few years would look like with his dorm, “Xisuma and Grian are alright, yes. A bit strange, but so are we, so it’s kind of perfect.”

“Xisuma is the chillest guy on earth,” Fwhip said, “definitely is gonna stress out over grades though.”

Scott nodded, he could already see the high standards that Xisuma held himself to, despite only knowing him for a little while.

“And Grian is alright now he’s settling in,” Fwhip continued, “He actually talked to me last night. Maybe that was why he suggested we eat outside, ‘cause he wanted to chat.”

Scott hummed, studying his friend’s expression, “Do you think he trusts you more?”

At that, Fwhip shrugged, biting into his sandwich. Scott knew his friend, though, and knew that Fwhip understood a lot more than he initially let on. Whilst Fwhip acted a bit like an idiot, he was incredibly emotionally intelligent, and often knew exactly how to carefully de-escalate situations. 

“I tell you what we need to get,” Scott suddenly remembered, “A set of pyjamas for Grian.”

Fwhip looked at him like he’d grown a second head, “What? Why that?”

“Well, last night I found out that Grian’s pyjamas are a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from his friend, which is basically falling apart,” He left out the bloodstains, not sure whether or not Grian would mind him gossiping about that.

Fwhip fixed him with a look, “Didn’t he say he had a suitcase coming with the rest of his stuff?”

“I think,” Scott swirled his soda bottle, “that was a lie.”

Conflicted, Fwhip worried his lip, then remarked, “Poor kid. It’s one thing to see shit servers on the news, it’s another thing to see its effects in real life.”

Scott furrowed his brow, “You think that’s what happened to him?”

Fwhip thought on it, “Well, he told me he had been on a different server to his home server,” He explained vaguely, “and ‘bad places make people do bad things’ is what he told me.”

Scott sighed, “That makes sense. It would also make sense that the uni offered him a space if he had been on a shitty server.” 

“I was just thinking,” Fwhip murmured, “do you think Grian has done bad things?”

(social experiment)

(16:50)

< scott > we’re on our way home noww

< problemchild > oh thank gord

< scott > what have you done?

< problemchild > noodles

< potnoodle > surely noodles have no margin for error

< problemchild > I tried to cook

< problemchild > spageti noodles??

< scott > oh void

< problemchild > ive had them before once but i thought they would taste close enough to just plain noodles

< problemchild > one small problem

< problemchild > i have set the spageti on fire

< scott > how the fuck

< problemchild > (attached 1 image: a shaky, low quality photo of spaghetti noodles in the sink. One side of the pasta is slightly cooked, the other end is charred black and covering the sink in black ashes. A sad sight. )

< potnoodle > you are banned

< scott > how the actual fuck

< problemchild > skills

< scott > well clearly not

< potnoodle > at least you didn’t set the entire dorm on fire

< scott > that is a low bar mate

< problemchild > ill keep that in mind for next time

< scott > nope

< scott > no more

< potnoodle > youare banned from kitchen

(18:10)

< olderbro > I leave for one day

< problemchild > it was more me being left alone

< scott > grian is banned from the kitchen

< olderbro > I figured

(19:04)

< potnoodle > Grian

< problemchild > wha

< potnoodle > dinner

< problemchild > no

< scott > have you eaten today?

< problemchild > forgot

< problemchild > well

< problemchild > I tried

< problemchild > but then forgot the rest

< scott > you mean the other meals you need to survive?

< potnoodle > just come grab a snack G

< problemchild > you can survive without food

< scott > no you can’t

< olderbro > For a short while

< problemchild > yeah ive survived like a week before without eating

< potnoodle > not addressing that. eat soemthing

< problemchild > ill have a kitkat

< scott > we’ll just bother you if you haven’t eaten

< potnoodle > yup

(21:29)

< olderbro > Going to sleep now, night!

< scott > goodnight X

< problemchild > night big bro 

< olderbro > Goodnight Scott, and child.

< problemchild > evil

< scott > xD

(06:22)

< olderbro > Gym :-) 

(09:17)

< potnoodle > hey grian wake up

< potnoodle > we r all having breakfast

< scott > I made pancakes :DD 

< problemchild > sorryy overslept a lil

< problemchild > late night

Xisuma stopped reading over Fwhip’s shoulder and picked up his pancake for another bite, the fresh fruit he’d bought the other day coming in handy. Today would be the last of the introductory week, with next Monday marking the start of the actual term. His first lecture was in the afternoon, the same as all of his dorm, though his course had an extra two lectures a fortnight. Meaning that most of Xisuma’s weekdays had at least one lecture. It was going to be a long three years, but he’d spent even longer preparing for it. 

The pancakes from Scott were just enough to distract him from the impending doom. 

Grian walked into the common room, hair slightly wild but fully dressed and holding a lighter and his phone in his hands, and a cigarette in his mouth.

“I’ll be five minutes,” He murmured, stumbling out of the dorm.

Scott almost laughed, then frowned, “He’s been smoking more than a few weeks, that’s for sure.”

Xisuma shook his head, “I wouldn’t even be surprised about smoking underage,” He sighed, “There hasn’t been anything I’ve found out about him that hasn’t been even a little concerning.”

“He seems to be settling in okay, though,” Scott continued, “I’m just worried that the work will be too much pressure for him.”

Fwhip interjected, “Man, I’m worried the work will be too much for me,” he laughed nervously, “but who knows, maybe he does well under pressure?”

Xisuma shrugged, “Just keep an eye on him,” he shook his head, “we’re not going to want to deal with an eighteen year old having a full mental breakdown.”

“I don’t think he’s really that bad,” Fwhip continued, “I reckon he’s just used to acting tough on his old server.”

Xisuma wanted to believe that, Scott and Fwhip both seemed to agree that Grian was just a recovering problem child, but Xisuma had seen first-hand the destruction that poorly moderated servers hosted. He wondered if Scott and Fwhip had ever even been on a permadeath server, if they had ever truly lost people. 

Xisuma had. He’d been the naive, sheltered one before, and he’d been the jaded, apathetic one. To be in tune with his emotions this much, he had to feel every possible burning agony, horror, joy and awe. That is something you do not forget, and Xisuma does not forget easily. 

Therefore, when he meets someone like Grian, Xisuma can recognise that those dark eyes had seen too much. The scarred knuckles, the fading reminders of nicks and cuts on his face, eyes constantly scanning, fingers twitching, surveying. Even small movements that Grian himself might have been oblivious to, checking in places where a holster or a concealed carry would have been. 

Grian re-entered the common room, the scent of cigarette smoke still clinging to him, eyes scanning the room, taking in the atmosphere and adjusting himself to it. 

That was for certain then, Xisuma thought to himself, Grian was carrying with him more trouble than they thought at first. It was simply a matter of whether he would implode or explode - destroy himself or hurt someone else. Neither were preferable, and if Xisuma knew what might help he would try, but this was out of his depth and he knew it. 

Grian, after eating breakfast for possibly the first time in years, though he didn’t dwell on it too much, followed Fwhip towards the sports halls. They were going to the club signups, something that Grian was both curious and excited about. He didn’t remember much of his life before being thrown into the server on which he met Sam, and that place had no such thing as extra-curricular activities. 

They went through all of the stalls, there being multiple different sports clubs, a reading club, a tabletop games club, and a few others. Fwhip signed up for the tabletop games club, and almost got Grian to join. It was a difficult decision - the girl running the stall was very kind, and incredibly good at explaining all of the different games, but in the end Grian chose to keep walking. He stopped at the drawing club stall, looking at the various artworks, then smiling at the two students running the stall.

“So, what does drawing club do?” Grian asked, almost laughing at the way the two students’ expressions brightened.

“Well,” the one sat in a chair began, “it runs from four to seven on a Wednesday night.” They had an interesting accent, and spoke with their hands, in which they also held onto a black cane.

The other student leaned on the table, “You don’t have to go for the full three hours,” they assured him.

“We sit and draw whatever we like, and there’s hot drinks and biscuits, and chill music,” the first student explained, “We usually have a walk around to see what everyone is doing, but you can choose to flip over your paper if you don’t want to-”

“You’re overwhelming them, dude,” the student leaning on the table said quietly, “Anyway, it’s super calm, we just draw and chat.”

Grian thought it sounded like a great way to make new friends and forget about studying for a while. Despite the fact that he hadn’t drawn anything in ages, he liked the idea of just doodling whatever he wanted.

He picked up a pen and squinted at the signup sheet.

“Yeah, Gree-on always used to be a total sissy,” Sam sneered, smile sharp as he made eye contact, “but I helped him act more like he should.”

Grian almost flinched upon hearing his dead best friend’s words echo in his head. The signup sheet somehow looked daunting. The pen looked small in his scarred hands. He took a deep breath, ignoring the curious looks from the two students manning the stall.

Maybe using his hands to make art instead of inflicting pain would help soothe the tremor in his fingertips. 

When Grian returned to the dorm, he went to his room and found his journal, flicking through all of the pictures in there. There were nice photos, ones from middle school with Sam and Taurtis, sometimes JTS and Dom as well, of them all hanging out at the park. Photos of them drinking in a field, a slightly faded one of a fresh-faced and much happier looking Grian smoking on a rooftop, still in the all-black boys uniform. 

Photos of small children with names scrawled next to them. People who were supposed to be his family. 

A candid photo of him on halloween night, mere hours before things went to shit, a couple faded spots where he’d shed a tear at the picture.

Grian stopped before he got to the bad pictures. Without looking too hard, he flipped to the next blank page, and found a pencil in his rucksack. 

Slowly, over the next hour or so, Grian constructed a drawing of two people, their faces and their shoulders, the collars of the old high school uniform. Taurtis and Sam. 

It wasn’t a good drawing, but Grian was proud of it. He’d made something. Sure, Taurtis was looking a little gormless - he’d somehow messed up the eyes just enough - and Sam’s ears were very much wonky, but Grian had made this. 

He very almost cried, but there were no tears there. Instead, he smiled at his work, and closed his journal. It would be safe in his bedside draw, he told himself. There was no need to stash things away anymore. 

He sighed, before finding his tobacco and rolling himself a smoke, planning to smoke, then eat something, then hang around in the common room until it was a suitable time for bed.

Fwhip looked up from his game of solitaire, to see Grian pull up a chair and start eating a bowl of microwavable rice.

“What,” Fwhip quirked his brow, “What exactly is wrong with you?”

Grian looked up, fork still in his mouth. From across the common room, Scott made a choked laugh sound.

Finishing his mouthful, Grian gestured to his bowl, “Dinner.” 

“Right,” Fwhip drawled, “So you’re just eating plain rice?”

Grian scowled, though there was no weight behind it, “I can eat plain rice for dinner if I want.”

“You can’t judge!” Scott piped up.

They both broke the serious act and laughed, Grian quickly returning to eating his steaming hot rice. Fwhip started shuffling through his hand of cards, finding a black eight to place down, then finding the two of diamonds that he desperately needed.

“I can see why you signed up for the tabletop games club,” Grian snarked, smirking at Fwhip.

Fwhip placed down the two of diamonds a little forcefully, “You could have joined me.” He shrugged.

Grian rolled his eyes, “I may be a nerd, but I’m not a chess club level nerd.”

“It’s not-” Fwhip pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, “You are. So annoying.”

“Oh, Grian?” Scott called out from the sofa, “Do you still have my charger?”

Grian nodded, “Yeah, it’s in my room, in the socket above the desk.”

He decided to ignore the little weirdo sat opposite him, and focus on his game of solitaire. 

Just as Fwhip was finishing up his game, Scott messaged him.

(Scott)

hey

wanna go on a lil walk

He replied with ‘okay’ before grabbing his hoodie from the back of the chair and slipping his shoes on. With a small wave, Fwhip said goodbye to Grian and Xisuma, who were watching TV and cooking respectively. 

Fumbling with his hoodie inside the escalator and almost having a heart attack when he could find his keycard, Fwhip eventually made it to the little wall outside block seven that had apparently become the spot for long talks. 

Scott was waiting, and smiled upon seeing him, “Hey mate,” he greeted, “So, Xisuma and I were having a little chat whilst you two were at the club signups.”

Fwhip nodded, joining Scott as they walked together at a slow pace, “This is about Grian, no?”

“Grian.” Scott confirmed, “Xisuma has some mixed feelings at the moment.”

And boy, did Fwhip notice that. From the beginning of the week, Xisuma had been observing Grian with caution, along with slight suspicion.

“Xisuma has seen some stuff, he’s told me about some of the crowds that he used to be involved with as a teen,” Scott explained, voice level, “and whilst that isn’t the full story, he knows what these poorly admin-ed servers are like, as well as the kind of things that happen there.”

Fwhip kept his eyeline down on the floor, “Why do you care so much about it? He’s barely more than a stranger.” He chewed his cheek, knowing that he was lying to himself.

“Yeah, he’s our roommate for the next three years.” Scott deadpanned, “Xisuma doesn’t want to share a dorm with someone who’s going to get blackout drunk on the regular.”

Fwhip rolled his eyes, “He wasn’t anywhere near blackout.”

“I’m not saying that Grian is going to do that.” Scott sighed, “Just… I was thinking about what you said to me yesterday.”

He shrugged, “Hell if I know.” He almost smiled, but the atmosphere was too sour, and he settled for an awkward grimace.

“You said ‘do you think Grian has done bad things?’ and I haven’t stopped thinking on that.” Scott met Fwhip’s grimace with a frown, “What do you think?”

Fwhip slowed down to a stop, pressing his hand up to his face, before answering, “I think from what I know, Grian’s probably done some things,” He held up a hand before Scott could interrupt, “But I also think that there is much more that we don’t know.”

Scott groaned, “Xisuma wants to know.”

At that, Fwhip fixed Scott with a look, “No matter how much we think we need to know about that guy’s past, we’re not owed anything.” He firmed his expression, “What if Grian wants a fresh start? Who are we to deny him that, if he’s trying to be better?”

“Fwhip, I know,” Scott pinched his nose bridge, “I know, I know. It’s none of our business, and I do want to help him.”

“So?” Fwhip raised his voice slightly, feeling frustrated that despite Scott saying he understood, he still didn’t seem to be internalising anything, “Why don’t you just respect the kid’s privacy and help where you can?”

“Yes, but he’s troubled-”

“So are we!” Fwhip cut him off, “I’ve got issues, you’ve got issues, and Xisuma seems to have his own fucking backstory, or whatever.” He took a deep breath, collecting himself, “So why are you so fixated on Grian?”

Scott looked mildly shocked for just a moment, then he seemed to remember himself, “I- Xisuma- He’s still so young and-”

“See? You don’t even know yourself.” Fwhip stated coldly, “So stop treating him like a true crime case, and start treating him like the player he is.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott choked out, and now Fwhip could hear the building emotion, “I’m sorry, I got worried-”

Fwhip took Scott’s hands in his, “Hey, hey man, take a breath. I didn’t mean to shout, I’m sorry about that.” Fwhip let go of Scott’s hands and let the man fall into him for a long hug.

“This is just everything I’ve waited for,” Scott murmured, “And I’m worried that something is going to go wrong.”

Fwhip laughed at his friend, “Scott, I love you, but you’re so ridiculous sometimes,” He pulled away to look the man in the eyes, “You’re here. This is admin school. Nothing will change that. Grian probably feels the exact same.”

Scott chuckled as well, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his cardigan, “Thank you Fwhip. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Too long in one place with you,” Fwhip retorted instantly, grinning back at his friend, “So, what are we gonna do to help out Grian?”

Scott blinked, “Um. Well. His pyjamas.” 

As they started walking again, Fwhip made a motion to encourage Scott to elaborate.

“No shade to him, but his pyjama top is pretty nasty. And I think those are the only clothes he owns that aren’t jeans or that jumper.” Scott explained, “And he’s also using one of the sofa cushions as a pillow. So bedsheets and pillows as well.”

Fwhip laughed, “That sounds about right.” He looked up to Scott, and he looked sad. It was kind of sad when he thought about it. Fwhip would be unhappy if his entire life was contained in one rucksack.

“Let’s go back to the dorm now.” Scott suggested.

Fwhip nodded, following Scott in the evening light.

“You’re not still upset with me?” Fwhip asked, biting his tongue afterwards, frustrated that he’d let that slip. He wasn’t supposed to be like that. He was the strong one, unaffected, always knew what to say.

Scott half laughed, then looked over to him, “I could never be.” 

Despite how much Fwhip trusted his best friend, he still doubted that. 

(social experiment)

(20:33)

< scott > we back

< problemchild > aw man

< problemchild > I was like five more minutes from driving X insane

< olderbro > thank void you’re back

< potnoodle > what did you do?

< problemchild > nothin

< olderbro > I have been trying to explain to him that he cannot live off of pot noodles and kitkats

< problemchild > and crisps

< olderbro > That changes nothing

< scott > thats a pointless fight

< potnoodle > one must imagine xisuma happy

(21:09)

< olderbro > Going to sleep now

< problemchild > night big bro o7

< scott > byee sleep well

(22:43)

< potnoodle > night fellas

< scott > night!

< problemchild > night :DD 

Grian closed the group chat and powered off his phone, leaving it on the bedside table and rolling over to try and get comfortable, shifting the tiny square cushion and pulling his blanket around himself. He thought about all of the places he had stayed, and the last time he’d actually slept in a bed with a duvet and pillows. Not Salted’s couch, not the mattress in Sam’s basement and definitely not the various other unconventional places that he’d collapsed out of exhaustion. 

The last time had been in a hotel, not too far from Sam’s house really. It had been the last time he’d ever seen his Taurtis. The clones and the alternate timeline Taurtis’ all had a part of him, but Grian had always been sentimental, even after finding out that Taurtis was never limited to a single consciousness anyway. Him and Sam had started to feel like two players surrounded by bored Gods at that point, and whatever Taurtis was, not a player and definitely not human.

Grian missed his original Taurtis. And at the time, his world fell apart.

He still remembered the following weeks between Taurtis disappearing and a clone taking his place. Sam had insisted they get a job, and whilst being broke had never stopped them before, it would be nice to be able to afford things without committing crimes all the time.

However, Sam just found someone to project his wrath onto, and where Grian would usually calm him down, with the recent knowledge of his friend being either gone or dead, he was just as unstable, perhaps even more unstable than Sam. So he pushed him forward, and the two had found synergy in violence. Grian thought that maybe that was when he had finally caved. The violence felt freeing, and it was even better with Sam by his side, finally proud of him. Grian was finally in on the plan instead of pushing against it.

Whether or not this made him a better friend to Sam, Grian didn’t know. He didn’t want to dwell on it, he really shouldn’t. Sam was most likely dead and Taurtis had died long ago, his Taurtis at least. 

The time after that was blurry. That was when things started really getting strange, they found more glitches in the code as the server started collapsing. Grian got locked up in the basement room a couple of times, Lizzie visited the server for a few days before swiftly leaving. More glitches, more killing people. Sam congratulated him for finally growing a pair and joining in with his insane plans. 

That was where that cruel, defensive side of him had been built up so high.

Chapter Text

Grian carefully slipped his now written up notes into the arch-lever folder that Scott had bought for him, with dividers and plastic folders to go with it. That was kind of him, but now Grian was looking for ways to pay him back, and also had some instinctual paranoid belief that Scott could be doing all of this in order to hold it over his head at a later date. 

He sighed, inserting the rest of his notes into his folder, making sure to place them in the ‘Code’ divider. Code classes were once a week, the most frequent subjects in the first year of general admin. Grian had, earlier this day, finished his fourth overall, and second with that professor, code class of the year. He was greatly enjoying it, and picking it up quickly, despite not having the base knowledge that any of his roommates for example had. The professor he’d just had was his favourite of all his professors, and he taught the more concrete and undisputed parts of code. He was an older sheep hybrid, and had the most wonderful way of explaining things. It was like mathematics - all logic and problem solving. 

Grian, all things considered, was coping very well with his first four or so weeks of admin school. There was a lot, sure, but Grian actually enjoyed the work. Always having something to do was good for him, plus it meant he had little time to think. Less time to think meant less spiralling about his past school experiences. 

Tomorrow afternoon he had his second ever History lecture, and the curriculum for that class had Grian particularly intrigued. He didn’t really know much about the history of admins, but according to the introductory class two weeks ago, it was a full comprehensive history of servers, from the discovery of movement between servers and the first ever main hub, to the modern council of admins and near effortless travel between servers today. 

And then tonight he had nothing. Grian had several assignments he might work on, but nothing that was due in the next few days, meaning he would have the entire weekend to finish anything he hadn’t done. He decided to leave his dorm and sit in the common room for a moment as he rolled his cigarette.

Being so busy had also somewhat forced him to slow down his smoking habit, though he didn’t even notice too much. Of course, after a few hours that itching feeling would find him and let him know. 

Before, with Salted, Boule and the rest of CraftedMovie, the majority of them smoked, and the filming sets usually carried the ghost of tobacco. One would usually find Grian nailing something together or painting the cheap chipboard set with a cigarette hanging on his lips, usually from an unregulated server that one of the team had contact with. 

Grian missed those shitty pre-rolled cigarettes, the cheap booze and the awful music they would blast through the night, just to go to sleep at four in the morning and wake up at two in the afternoon, then start drinking at five, because past five in the evening made it okay, right?

He winced. Maybe he shouldn’t romanticise that awful lifestyle. 

“Hey problem child.” Someone called from the kitchen.

Grian rolled his eyes, “Scott.”

Scott laughed from where he was stirring a pan, “How did you find today’s lecture?” he stopped stirring to look at Grian, “I’m really having trouble getting my head around all of that code stuff.”

Grian shrugged, sitting down at the table with his tobacco, “Yeah, it makes sense to me for some reason. More than social studies.” he rolled his eyes, “We’re becoming admins, not therapists.”

“Yeah, well,” Scott chuckled, “Social studies is important if you’re running a server. As an admin you’re expected to look after your players as well as the server they live in.”

Grian sighed, slowly rolling his smoke, “I guess,” he glanced up at Scott, “Doesn’t make it any less dull.”

“If you’re going to have your own server,” Scott warned, tone serious, “you have to be close with your players. You can’t isolate yourself.”

Grian left the common room with his cigarette, scoffing at the statement. He didn’t need to be close to those on his server to make it work, he wasn’t in charge of their mental health. That was something you dealt with on your own. Like Grian was.

And for a moment, as he was slowly dropping in the lift down to the ground floor, Grian realised that all of his dreams of a perfect server never had him in it. He was never there. Sure, he created the server and made it that brilliant thing he had always comforted himself with dreams of, but he himself was never with the shiny happy inhabitants. Always, Grian seemed to self-impose his isolation without even realising it.

The thought passed, but the seed was planted - the joyful future didn’t have a place for him. The seats were taken and the show was starting, and Grian had missed the deadline.

The doors opened, and he exchanged an awkward smile with another passing student, then once Grian exited the building he found his little wall outside block seven and lit up his smoke. As it curled into the air, Grian wondered if the universe had a plan for him, if the multiple deities and beings he had already interacted with somehow knew what he was destined for. 

That night, Grian woke up at some wee hour of the night, breathing ragged and heart beating so fast he feared it might send recoil through his body with each laboured pump. He had no clue why he was scared. However, even as he slowly calmed himself and the adrenaline left his bloodstream, the paranoid feeling of being perceived in some way still crept behind his neck like prying eyes. 

The feeling disappeared when he glanced around his dorm, wide-eyed and blinking in the near darkness. 

Grian decided, in all his wisdom, that the perfect remedy to this random anxiety was, of course, a cigarette. Like muscle memory, Grian left his room and pulled open the heavy dormitory door, keycard in his pocket along with a clipper, smoke in his mouth already.

Except when Grian reached the outside door for block seven, he saw a silhouette in his usual spot. 

He opened the door tentatively, only to notice it was a familiar silhouette.

“Fwhip?” He asked quietly, “What are you doing out here?”

He got no answer, instead Fwhip just turned his head away from the dim lights on the front of block seven, shadowing his expression. He swiped his arm across his face, only looking up to Grian when a waft of smoke drifted in his direction.

Grian sat down beside him, mind racing on what tactic would work best for this conversation, what would get Fwhip to feel comfortable enough to share?

As much as Grian enjoyed plain rice now and then, this was his twelfth bowl this week, and it was getting a bit stupid. If the police station had enough funding for Paul Blart to get a whole room dedicated to- 

“Grian!” Taurtis said, “You were staring at nothing again.” 

He lifted his head up slowly to see Taurtis scraping his bowl clean and leaning over the plastic table. Sam had been taken in to provide statements, and now Taurtis had no-one to match his excitable energy, leaving Grian to attempt to deal with the guy.

“I have a question for you,” Grian drawled, catching Taurtis by surprise, “would you have handed me in and let Yuki kill me if it meant no-one else dying?” The sudden dark question caught the room off guard, even Grian startled slightly at how serious he’d got. 

Taurtis frowned, “Well you did kinda kill our dad.”

“Taurtis-” Grian started, almost feeling the frustration rise, but leaving it to die down into apathy, “Oh whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

Taurtis fixed him with a strange expression. One that was unusually complex for the often easy to read student. He took the untouched bowl of rice that Grian had, at some point, pushed across the table. Slowly, he started eating it, still looking thoughtful. 

The bare walls of the police station mess hall seemed to close in on them.

“Are you okay?” Grian asked quietly, “Sorry if I upset you with that.” He wanted it to sound genuine, but after everything that had happened in the last few weeks, it was hard to dredge himself up and out from the walls of indifference he’d hidden behind.

Taurtis laughed and shook his head, not answering the question. 

The uncertainty of being stuck in a police station under the care of the distraught Mrs Okami, the awful conditions, the knowledge that one day soon they would be shipped off to a completely new place and expected to just start life again - that was all weighing on Grian’s mind. This server surely didn’t have a witness protection program. If he was being honest, Grian would guess it was just Okami pulling some strings and finding them another school to go to.

If this was all going through his mind, what was going through Taurtis’ head? How could Grian try and help, instead of fucking things up like he usually did?

“Hey man,” Grian came around the table to sit next to Taurtis, “I know things are a lot right now, but I’m with you, okay?” His mind was racing, desperate to create sentences and words of reassurance, trying his best to put together the best he could find. He needed to prove he was a good friend. 

Shit, Grian had been friends with Taurtis for so long, why did he feel so distant? Why was this so hard? What could he do to get Taurtis to open up to him?

“Whatever it is, school stress or home shit,” Grian murmured, “you can talk to me.”

Fwhip shrugged.

Taurtis sighed, “Things are a lot.” He smiled, “You two are the most fun I’ve had in, like, forever. I don’t want to lose that.”

It was a weird way of wording that, but Grian knew to not question things, so he kept his mouth shut and nodded.

Fwhip sighed, “Things are a lot.” He watched Grian, gaze tracking the smoke billowing into the air, “I’m the one who’s meant to have his shit together, I should be…” 

He inhaled, then blew out a sigh of smoke, “No one expects you to be that.” 

“I won’t leave you, I promise-” Grian started, but Taurtis shook his head.

“I know, and neither will Sam,” he smiled sadly, “but nothing lasts forever. Some things go on for so long they might as well last forever - like the universe, or a math class - but there will always be an end.”

He looked at his friend, the guy who so often finds no seriousness in real life, almost ignorant to any peril or hurt. Taurtis was more than Grian ever thought he was, and he had never taken the time to get to know his best friend. There he goes again, fucking up his friendships. 

“I used to think I had to be the perfect friend to someone,” Grian admitted slowly, the words burning on his tongue, as some traitorous part of his brain screamed that Sam was still his friend, that he owed it to him, “And trying to be everything for someone else leaves you with nothing.”

Fwhip sighed, “I just want to help people though.”

Stubbing his cig out, Grian laughed softly, “You do help people, so much. You’ve helped me, and from what I’ve heard you’ve helped Scott a shit ton.”

Staring up at the top of the block, leaning backwards, Fwhip hummed, “Do you ever get that itching feeling… like you should be doing something better? Something greater?”

Grian tutted, “Not like that, but I get it. Feeling like no matter what you do, you’re never good enough.” He sighed, playing with his lighter, “I get the itching feeling to pack my bag and move to the next place. I can’t settle in one place for too long.”

Fwhip nodded, “Were you on the move alot?”

“I guess,” Grian shrugged, not wanting to go into the details, “Were you constantly pushed to be the perfect student, or something along those lines?”

“I took it upon myself,” Fwhip admitted, “I wanted to be the one to help my mom out of all that shit.”

Grian nodded along, not really understanding the reason, but well aware that it was possible for parents to be more than just wankers. His immediate thought was Mrs Okami - while flawed, she was possibly the only adult who had shown gentle affection to them. A kind soul overshadowed by an awful place.

“I wanted to save her,” Fwhip said tiredly, “And growing up with that has left me with this crushing weight. I know, because I’ve sat in the silence problem solving through my own mental state. Hence why I’m not half bad at telling people what’s up with them, if they actually explain things to me that is.” He shot a snarky look at Grian, then laughed dismissively. 

“You wouldn’t wanna get inside my head.”

Fwhip raised his eyebrows. 

Grian continued, “In my mind. I think there are two guys playing ping-pong with my singular braincell. When a goal is scored, I form a thought.”

At that, Fwhip sighed and giggled momentarily, shaking his head, then running a hand through his hair in exasperation. 

There was a quiet moment, one where only the hum of the nearby city and the slight buzz of the lights on the front of the building that Grian had noticed from time to time. 

Fwhip inhaled shakily, and Grian moved to look at him, thoughts suddenly racing because his friend was upset and-

He took his own breath, and moved a little close to sit just next to Fwhip, opening his arms in invitation for a hug. It wasn’t often that he gave hugs - it wasn’t really something he ever thought about - but when Fwhip realised and slowly shuffled to slump against Grian’s side, he understood. 

“It’s okay,” Grian murmured, “It’s a lot, and that’s okay.”

Fwhip mumbled into Grian’s shoulder, “Why- Why am I crying?” He shook with a couple of what could have been laughs or sobs, and Grian pulled him in a little closer.

“You’re exhausted,” Grian stated, “And emotions like to punish you for not sleeping.” 

The words seemed to not even register as Fwhip continued to sob, and Grian continued to hold him. It nearly surprised him how much suppressed emotion Fwhip was bottling up, how long it must’ve taken him to reach this breaking point - then he took into consideration how Fwhip usually acted. Almost nervous, but not quite, antsy and observational. Clearly intelligent, but good at playing the part of the oblivious butt of the joke. There was always a torrent of emotion under all that masking and defensive persona, and only now it was flowing freely.

He shifted his position so he could pull Fwhip closer to his chest. It was the first time, Grian realised, that someone had truly cried on his shoulder. He didn’t know if he was good at this comforting shit or not, but Fwhip hadn’t stormed off or awkwardly walked away yet, so that was reassuring at least. 

“I know, I know,” Grian soothed through a particularly harsh set of sobs, Fwhip’s breath heaving and catching, “It’s so hard. You’re doing so well.”

It was all things he needed to hear himself, all things he wished someone could murmur to him as sobs silently wracked through his body on some stranger’s couch. Grian bit back his own tears - this wasn’t about his pointless woes, this was about Fwhip’s actual problems.

They sat like that for a little longer, adjusting to more comfortable way of just leaning on each other’s sides as Grian fished his tobacco from his back pocket and started rolling another smoke.

“Thanks.” Fwhip croaked out, voice still thick from crying, “You didn’t have to do this.”

Grian smiled at him, small and crooked, “I’m your friend, I don’t mind at all.”

(social experiment)

(06:17)

< olderbro > Grian sleepwalking count up to seven 

< olderbro > he’s out cold on the kitchen floor??

(06:51)

< problemchild > the fuck??

< problemchild > I am so lucky I cant leave the dorms in my sleep

< problemchild > everything hurts

(07:30)

< potnoodle > how the hell did you fall asleep in the kitchen?

< problemchild > apparently my subconscious thinks its a safe place

< problemchild > i just have no idea.

< olderbro > You are so lucky I sweep and mop regularly

< problemchild > x you are my hero

< problemchild > for that I will eat at least one nutritional meal in your name

(08:01)

< scott > Grian?? the kitchen floor??? really?

< problemchild > I dont know

< potnoodle > hes secretly just showing off all the places he can fall asleep

< problemchild > i am not!

< scott > Grian this is sort of worrying actually

< problemchild > its normal

< scott > its really not

< olderbro > it is not

< potnoodle > grian youre not normal

< problemchild > i promise you

< problemchild > i know how to be normal

< problemchild > no one has ever been bothered by it before

< scott > oookayyyy 

< scott > anyway

< scott > do we have any assignments for history this afternoon?

< olderbro > Nope

< potnoodle > oh thank the void

< olderbro > I'll be in the library, message me if you need me

< problemchild > got it

< potnoodle > have fun doing nerd stuff

< olderbro > you mean studying?

< potnoodle > exactly

< problemchild > nerd stuff

< scott > you two are scarily in sync.

(< scott > changed < potnoodle > ‘s display name to < mischief >)

(< scott > changed < problemchild > ‘s display name to < mayhem >)

< mischief > heyy I cause plenty of mayhem

< mayhem > im the mischief master though

< scott > you two

< scott > remind me when 5pm comes around

< mischief > as long as I can have some 

< mayhem > and me

< scott > I’m drinking red wine

< mayhem > the fuck

< mayhem > why?

< mischief > idc ill have it

< olderbro > This is why I go to the library to study.

(12:06)

< olderbro > On the way back now :-D 

< mischief > sweet

All four of them walked together towards block seven. Xisuma had been talking passionately about what he was doing this weekend, that his old friend had invited him to join a new server of his and shadow his admin duties a few weekends here and there. Apparently he’d spent some of his apprenticeship living and working on this server, and now they wanted him back part time for the second rendition. 

Hermitcraft, Grian had thought he’d heard the name. It was an odd choice, but perhaps it was fitting for the inhabitants. Plus, it sounded like good experience. Xisuma seemed to have a huge amount of experience actually being an admin in the real world compared to the other three of them. The only real interaction Grian has had were the two classes that they had all had in which they all got to see an admin console and watch how it’s used for the first time. Grian had seen a lot of strange things, but the admin console looked like the cockpit of a plane. 

“So I hope to go over there enough to sort of half live there by the end of my course,” Xisuma explained, “I’m set to inherit the server if I want to.”

Grian raised his brows, “Wow, so you’re going straight into work.”

“That’s a pretty big deal,” Scott added. 

Fwhip decided to switch up the subject, “Thoughts on the history lecture?”

Grian hummed, not knowing quite what to say. It had been interesting, learning about the ancient gods crafting life from code, and how domains, or the now servers, were created for different deities. 

“I’m not really one for ancient history,” Xisuma said dismissively, “The handout for research she gave us at the end piqued my interest, though.”

Grian nodded, “Yeah, the original founders of the school for admins or something, right?”

Xisuma replied, “Indeed, I thought that was definitely relevant.”

“Yeah,” Scott interjected, “the story is actually really interesting.”

As they approached block seven, the familiarity of it seemed to smother Grian slightly. He’d walked through this porch so many times, sat on the little brick wall so many times as his smoking spot. He’s made this place a home, his rucksack was under the bed, no longer next to it. Grian had new clothes, even - ones that he bought whilst out with Scott last weekend. 

The feeling of settling down somewhere, even somewhere as obviously temporary as the student dorms, sent a spark of white hot panic wriggling up inside him as all four of them rode the lift up to floor four. The knowledge of this place being safe should have made him feel at ease, but instead this itching, crawling feeling told him he was getting complacent.

Getting back to the dorm felt odd. He knew the room, knew the labelled cupboards, the fridge that never closed properly unless you shoved it. The dining table was slightly wobbly, and the end chair nearest the door creaked when you sat on it. The sofa, on which you could sink into the cushions and probably fall asleep instantly, and of course past that the dingy corridor that led to the rooms. None of it felt real.

Grian sighed, groaning as he dropped his folders onto his bed. He was fine. He’d lasted four weeks at admin school, much longer than he ever thought he would, so this little feeling had nothing on him. 

Finally, he decided to send his old friends a message.

(craftedmovieteamchat)

(16:16)

< green > been a while, admin school is going good

< green > was just wondering if anyone had a server they were working on that I could shadow them on?

< green > in return for building ^^

He sighed and turned his phone off. The order of the evening was; smoke, eat, play cards with Fwhip, and do nothing. It sounded perfect. And he wouldn’t spiral or zone out or anything for the whole time.

Chapter Text

Admin school was always going to be difficult, Scott knew that. He knew that the work he would have to put in would make the welfare course from last year seem like a laugh. However, when the first half-term was finally up and they had a week to do whatever, he finally realised just how little time he had taken for himself over the last six weeks. It was just him and Fwhip in the dorm for a while, as Xisuma had gone to the Hermitcraft server full-time for the week and Grian was spending most of his time working on something with some of his friends, so the two of them fell into familiar patterns of living around each other. 

The subject that had been tripping him up the most was code - it was the core part of their education as admins. Scott knew he would have to have a good grasp on coding to bring his dreams into reality, and beyond coding he was passing with flying colours in all of the other subjects. 

Half term meant he had mock exams for all of the units they’d finished, and code theory was barely a pass. Fwhip had been stressing in a similar manner, despite trying his very hardest to play it off, he hadn’t been sleeping well. He hadn’t passed the legal studies mock, and that in particular seemed to really weigh on him.

Scott tried to offer his help, but Fwhip insisted he was fine. The most Scott had been able to do was convince him to have a few real meals here and there. Other than that, all he could do was wait until Fwhip eventually fell into a rhythm like he had back in the welfare course. It took painstakingly long for his friend to get used to a new place.

The same couldn’t be said for Grian, oddly enough. Scott had expressed his worry about how Grian was going to cope with the workload, but he’d taken to the work like petrol on a bonfire. He was intelligent, remarkably so, and picked up information with startling speed, but was also missing huge gaps in his knowledge. Scott had spent a few evenings doing social studies assignments with Grian, a subject that he routinely expressed his distaste for despite Scott trying to explain that it was entirely necessary for an admin to have that particular skill set. He often left feeling concerned from some lingering statement Grian had said offhandedly, confused when Scott pressed, sometimes even defensive. 

Grian was a puzzle, and as much as Scott knew he shouldn’t treat him as such, it was hard not to when each clue was cumulatively concerning. He’d leave that investigative spirit in his late night pondering. All Scott knew was that Grian had come from a bad place, and most likely wanted to leave that behind him. He soothed himself with the notion that Grian might just want to get to know them better before he started talking about his past, but also reminded himself that he had no right to know about Grian’s past. 

He couldn’t wait for Grian to get back from his building job, though. Without his partner in crime, Fwhip had been exponentially more irritating, and without anyone to bum cigarettes off of Scott had been unable to quell the resulting stress. The aforementioned troublemaker was currently scrutinising a messy table of cards, something resembling solitaire. It was the time of day that Grian and Fwhip would be eating instant noodles together and fighting over two-player card games or, as of recently, some mobile game Fwhip had introduced Grian to. 

Fwhip sighed deeply, “Fuck’s sake, I’m stuck again,” he whined, swiping a hand over the cards.

Looking up past his phone, Scott gave him an uninterested look from where he was leaning on the kitchen counter.

“I need Grian to be back,” Fwhip leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs, “I hate solitaire.”

“He’s back tomorrow afternoon, right?” Scott asked, turning his phone off and checking on the pasta he’d been boiling.

“Yeah,” Fwhip confirmed, rocking on the chair, “And X is back on Sunday after he’s finished on Hermitcraft. I can’t believe he’s already got a server lined up for when he gets his certificate.”

Scott stirred the vegetables he was frying for the pasta sauce, and shrugged, “He’s older and taking the sophisticated admin course,” he fixed Fwhip with a look, “plus, it’s not like he’s just coasting by. He deserves it.”

Fwhip tidied the cards up, stacking them and placing them back in their box, “You’re right and I hate you,” he slammed the box down a touch violently, “it just makes me angry sometimes.”

Scott furrowed his brow, “What?”

“How some people just get handed things,” Fwhip said, the previous anger leaving his voice, only a sliver of frustration remaining in his tone, “that we worked so hard to have a chance at.”

Scott stared at the pack of cards, wondering if when Fwhip dealt out his game if he was always going to get stuck, no matter what choices he made. He wondered how far back the certainty went. Did those cards know when they were made that Fwhip would lose this game?

Grian woke up comfortably curled up on a camping mat in someone’s living room. Different from yesterday, and the night before that. He tried to roll over, but seemed to have burrito-ed himself with a throw from the sofa, so it ended in him rolling on the rug and bumping his knee into a coffee table leg. 

Grumbling to himself, Grian unwrapped his sleep cocoon and found his pile of clothes. He threw on his jumper and rummaged in his jeans until he found his tobacco and lighter, returning to his bed to sit cross legged and try to roll a morning smoke.

He felt like complete shit, to put it simply. His body ached from working for five days straight and sleeping on floors or couches, he was hungover and his throat was sore from smoking shitty straights. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea, but Grian had needed it mentally and financially. He had needed to get away from that stuffy dorm room with those three overbearing roommates, always checking in on him, almost nervously keeping an eye on him. 

That, and the routine, it was stifling. Grian found some twisted peace in constantly uprooting himself and verging on burnout. Six whole weeks of the same damn routine with the exact same people was frustratingly stagnant. 

At least the people at Crafted Movie seemed to take him more seriously now he was doing well in admin university. They genuinely seemed proud of him, and Salted had even given him a talk about taking his future seriously, which whilst unexpected Grian did appreciate the genuine care behind it. 

In six weeks, Grian had gone from the butt of the joke to the one person who might just make it out of there. 

Now it was Saturday morning, and Grian had to go and chase his dreams - that was once he’d had a smoke and coffee. Unlit rollie hanging from his teeth, Grian poured himself a coffee from the still hot kettle - whoever had boiled it had been loud enough to wake him up. 

Armed with chemicals, Grian headed to the back door.

By the time he was dressed and had cleaned up the living room, it was around three in the afternoon. Grian took little time to say goodbye to Salted, Boule and the rest of the crew, promising to come back and help out with more set designs in the near future, but also promising to keep working towards that shiny admin certificate.

The journey felt uncertain, Grian had travelled to the university server a good few times now, meaning his mind had room to wander as he made his way. He’d be here for the next three years, pretty much, so it was expected that he’d settle in. The frustration he felt bubble up at the idea was familiar. Grian knew he had issues, and staying in one place made him feel tetchy, but perhaps trying to overcome that and feel comfortable getting used to the university would do him some good. 

It was also highly likely that that included getting used to his roommates. 

Grian finished his smoke outside block seven. He’d lit it as a procrastination, really, trying to put off the inevitable. He sighed, he was being ridiculous. Fwhip and Scott were his friends at this point - a weird thing to think for Grian, but from any other perspective it might be obvious - and Grian enjoyed their company.

Oh whatever. Grian tapped his keycard and shifted the massive door, frowning at the almost imperceptible familiar smell in the air, but making his way to the lift quickly and heading straight to floor four. 

Flat two hadn’t changed. Scott was in the kitchen, turning away from his massive pan of curry to greet Grian. Batch cooking, like usual. 

Fwhip was quick to come out of his room, “Thank the Void you’re back, I don’t think I take another minute living with this freak-”

Scott snorted, “Welcome back, Grian,” he sauntered back to the kitchen, “Coffee?”

Nodding, Grian kicked off his shoes and made a beeline for the sofa. Fwhip joined him with a smile.

“I was just slaving away at this stupid legal studies assignment, you arrived just in time for me to take another half an hour break,” he sighed, losing some of that frantic energy in the exhale, “How was your week, then?”

He shrugged, “Same old,” he swallowed all of the lingering feelings from his journey of rumination, “Designing and building a set. It’s good to have a bit of income, but. Yeah.” 

He trailed off, not quite sure what to tell Fwhip. 

“Things have been boring here without you,” Fwhip lamented, “I’ve had to drive Scott up the wall all by myself, and I’ve got to tell you, it gets tiring after a while.”

Scott made a face from the kitchen, “So stop?”

He couldn’t help but giggle at that. Fwhip fixed Grian with a grin, soon joining him in laughing. Scott’s long suffering sigh could just about be heard over the disjointed snickering.

“Grian,” Scott said, tone dry, “I might need to go outside with you for five minutes.”

Grian paused for a second, confused, then caught on, “Oh, right,” he started laughing again, “give me like ten minutes and perhaps a trade of some food?”

“Sure, sure,” Scott agreed, “I take it you don’t want any curry, and are instead after sweets?”

He sighed, “Scott, you know me too well,” he turned back to Fwhip, “How have you been?”

Fwhip shrugged, “Assignments are killing me,” he passed his phone between his hands, obviously stressing about the workload, “You know anything about legal studies?”

“I’m not great, but I’m passing,” Grian offered, “You need a hand?”

Fwhip groaned, sliding down the sofa in display of frustration, “Might do.”

He found himself laughing again. Grian was usually laughing or smiling when he was hanging out with Fwhip and Scott - they tended to just have that effect on people. 

He was jumpscared from his thoughts by Scott loudly saying ‘think fast’, and a multipack of assorted sweets hurtling towards his face. Naturally, he reacted by jumping and smacking the packet in the air back towards Scott. It landed obtrusively with a thwack on the kitchen floor.

Scott looked at him with a somewhat smug but also disappointed look, flicking between Grian and the bag of sweets. It lasted for all of two seconds, before Fwhip burst out in giggles again. Grian joined him, leaning over the back of the sofa and motioning for the bag.

Scott gave him another scathing look, “Really?” he rolled his eyes. 

“Happy chemicals are on the line here, remember,” Grian reminded him.

“I hate you all,” Scott retorted, moving to pick up the bag. He threw it the short distance, the bag landing safely in Grian’s hands. 

Scott soon enough found himself sat outside block seven, the evening drawing in startlingly fast, a hand rolled cigarette between his fingers. Just every now and then.

“How’ve you been, then?” Grian asked quietly, rolling the cigarette between his fingers absently. 

Scott shrugged, “There’s a lot of pressure,” he took a long drag, “I really hate coding. It’s all math, and I’m gay, I can’t do math.”

Shaking his head, Grian huffed a tiny laugh, “Fair enough,” he exhaled a breath of smoke, then continued, “I’ve been overthinking.”

“What’s new,” Scott remarked.

Grian tutted, taking another long drag, “I think I want to try and ‘settle down’ here,” he explained.

Scott was suddenly listening intently, because from what it sounded like, Grian might actually be talking to him. He took another puff to hide the tension.

“I never really had a place to call home long term, so it’s not really something I know… how to do,” Grian grimaced, “It’s stupid, but I’ve been on the move since I was kid, and that’s not something you just snap out of.”

Scott nodded, “Yeah, that’s tough.”

“But I really want to try,” Grian affirmed, looking up from his smoke to meet Scott’s eyes.

He smiled in return, “That’s the best thing you can do.”