Oneshots- Book 1

Fiddauthor: First Meetings

It's not inherently romantic, you can decide if you want anything romantic to become of it. I've been updating this book a lot recently due to the fact that it has 1,000 readers! Thanks guys!

Fiddleford would be lying if he said that Backupsmore University was not the college he intended to go to. He knew this whole time that this half rate college was all he would ever amount to as far as his education went, and here he was, sitting in the induction ceremony, dreading the next four years. His parents wished better for him, considering that he was the first out of his parents and four brothers to actually attend college. But given Fiddleford's less than average education, he couldn't have qualified for much better for this. He was a stranger in a strange land, with a thick Southern accent, raised in the backwoods of Mississippi. He was taught to say please and thank you, to dot his i's and cross his t's. According to just about everybody in his hometown, Fiddleford was fine farmer material. If it weren't for his brothers, he probably would have never realized his flair for engineering and would have probably become a farmer.

If only that flair would have taken him farther. 

The ceremony ended, promptly dismissing all the students to their dorms, where they'd have to move in for the first time. It also meant that they'd have roommates. His heart sank at the thought of him having a roommate. That roommate might find his Southern accent and sickening need to use manners reason to make him the laughing stock of this college. He wouldn't have any friends here. The city was no place for a country boy like him. 

But now was not the time to get insecure. 

His dorm room was bigger than he expected; probably to accommodate for both him and the dreaded roommate. Fiddleford placed the one box he took with him, packed with nothing more than clothes and some decorations, to at least make himself feel a little bit better about the newness of this place. His mother always said to take a little bit of home with you. Fiddleford crossed the room to claim the right side of the room, because it was apparent that whoever his roommate was, he had already decided to settle. There was a mountain of books surrounding the bed; something that he had to stop and admire for a second. Who could this person possibly be to own that many books?

The person in question entered the room. Oh no. 

He seemed innocent enough. Fiddleford was surprised to meet a man of equal height; he had been considered short most of his life. His chest was broad and Fiddleford conjectured that he must have a substantial amount of build on him. He looked strong, from his strong jaw to his almost piercing eyes that simultaneously looked...what was the word for it? Inviting. His eyes were piercing yet inviting. A pale yellow sweater wrapped tightly around his torso well. It highlighted his build, making him look bigger than he actually was. Even though Fiddleford couldn't know it, he thought he would come to actually like someone at this university. 

But little did he know what this man would turn him into. 

"Hi," Fiddleford said, extending his hand out to the stranger, his Southern accent bleeding through his tone, "I'm Fiddleford." 

"Stanford," the man replied in a surprisingly deep voice, but with a hospitable smile. He extended a balled fist out to Fiddleford. He wasn't sure what to do other than take the fist in both hands and shake it. "Nice to meet you." 

Stanford released his hands down at his sides and Fiddleford got a better look at his fingers. Six fingers. He gave a relieved smile at the sight of them, knowing there was someone else here who was just as much of a stranger in a strange land. Stanford was probably just as insecure as Fiddleford, so he stopped staring at his fingers and instead looked directly at him. The bold frame of his glasses made him seem authoritative but also, once again, inviting. There was something about Stanford that Fiddleford wasn't sure if he should fear or admire. Maybe both. 

But he knew he was going to make a friend of this man. If anything, Stanford was another stranger in a strange land.