A Golden Opportunity

One Secret Left to Share

Victor felt like a criminal as he returned to his dorm room, like a man escaped from prison only to skulk back to his cell on his own accord. The manner of his escape was no less dramatic than a prison escape, and he would expect the consequences of his actions would appear in the form of a police citation through the university mail. Or perhaps Professor Donavan would ensure it never went that far, demonstrating to the Dean how a zero on the second exam prevented Victor's graduation all together. Perhaps he would be kicked out of the school before he could even get his letters, proven unworthy of an education and unable to prove himself against the academic machine.
Though such considerations felt small when compared to the situation at hand. Victor would gladly trade his status at the university if it were to save Professor Holmes's life, and with such priorities he could hardly allow his mind to stress about the small consequences of his own existence. Even if the old man's blood pressure improved there was no telling if the hospital would allow him to leave. And with that in mind, they deemed him both unable to live a quality life and unable to improve in the long run. They were dooming him to involuntary hospice, without the option of dying on his own terms. They had trapped him, essentially, into spending his last couple of days in their expensive care. But no matter where he was, no matter if he was rotting at home or in that hospital bed, it was no secret that the doctor's original life expectancy was not going to stretch towards the optimistic three months. The low blood pressure was only the first warning sign of an infection grow out of control, the first of many that would take a toll on the man's health and state of mind. He was dying, and as of now all Victor could do to help him was visit. Visit and watch as he turned colder and colder, until the man in the bed was another being entirely from the man who welcomed him to the classroom only months before.
"Victor, thank God!" Reggie rose from his desk chair the moment he heard the key hit the lock, visibly relieved when his roommate stepped through the door. In fact he seemed so happy to see Victor there might have been a hug, had it not been for the fact that his elbow was currently holding his book open on his most recent page, using a chaotic lean to ensure he smashed it properly into the desk.
"What, did you think I was dead?" Victor chuckled.
"You went into that building looking like you were facing the firing squad...I was half wondering if you had!"
"Nothing quite so serious," Victor assured. "Though nothing so simple, either."
"They failed you?" Reginald guessed, finally taking the time to shove a used tissue into the folds of his book so as to ease his hips of the pain of posture. The boy's eyes were legitimately concerned, though his lips were still upturned, as if he couldn't help but look forward to the story of his roommate's utter failure.
"Not yet," Victor assured. He dropped his bag next to his desk, now feeling so exhausted with the events of the day that he could hardly see straight. Hopping onto his bed, Victor settled his elbows upon his knees and stared mournfully down at his roommate, too worried to come out with the whole truth but knowing that it was already overdue.
"So you weren't with Mr. Hall, getting screamed at?" Reggie asked hesitantly, recognizing in his roommate's eyes there was something to be concerned about.
"Worse," Victor admitted grimly. "I was in the hospital."
"Are you contagious? God, Victor, don't get me sick I have a presentation this week!"
"No I'm not sick, Professor Holmes is!"
"That old hag? So what?" He said it so casually, so naturally. As if he truly believed it.
"You're a monster, Reggie. He fell last night, and may be in serious danger! He's dying either way, but when he didn't show up for class today I just...well of course I had to see him."
"Right after you took your test, yes?"
"I...well..."
"Yes?" Reggie clarified, deciding to ignore Victor's stammering.
"Well...I didn't take the exam."
"I might as well kill you now. I might as well grab your spindly little throat and..."
"Hey, hey!" Victor flung his arms up defensively, though Reginald only did so much as lunge at the poor boy, using the sheer madness in his eyes to do the rest of the attacking in his stead.
"You're an IDIOT!" Reggie growled, "You'll fail the class for sure, and then what? Then how will you get your degree?"
"Professor Holmes said I could retake it!"
"I don't care what he said, I don't care where he is, I don't care what's wrong with him. Why would you jeopardize your future for some grimy old professor? Why the hell are you so obsessed with him?"
"Because he's a nice man, Reginald. He deserves someone to notice him! I was the only one who visited, the only one who cared to!"
"Why you?"
"Because I know his secrets, Reggie, and how could I just..."
"I know his secrets too! You seem to forget that it was me who read that letter, and me who did all the heavy lifting to get it back to him! What do you care, what does he care? How could you ever convince him that you care so deeply because he's a bloody good professor?" Reggie's voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, his mouth speaking words into existence that had only just come to mind. His voice bringing to light a consideration he hadn't thought up before, but something that made suddenly disturbing sense. "You told him, didn't you?"
Victor frowned, his cheeks glowing red and his eyes growing helpless. Maybe he could stay silent throughout the duration of Reggie's accusations. Did the 5th amendment apply to dorm room interrogations as well?
"You told that damn old crone that you read his letter, and now you're some sort of...strange secret sharers! That's why you love him so much, not because you know about him, but he knows you know!"
"In my defense he forced it out of me! He knew immediately after, we left the ladder! He knew it was me."
"And what, you just started singing?"
"He thought I was looking at exams, so he nearly reported me to Mr. Hall. My hand was forced!"
"This makes so much sense. So much sense. Here I was thinking you were just mental, but no, he's been reinforcing you this whole time. How much else do you know? How much else has he told you? What sort of perverted fix do you get by hyper fixating on some old prune's sexual life?"
"He's told me nothing, and I'm not hyper fixated on anything! He's my friend, Reginald, and he's dying."
"I don't care. You've just sabotaged your whole academic career, your whole life..."
"For a man I care about!" Victor defended, jumping down from the bed if only to stand his ground. Even though Reginald had a slight inch on him it still felt good to challenge him, to look into those grey eyes and feel something other than desire. To promote strength, to infuse it.
"Modify that sentence, Victor, and I'll believe you."
"For a man I love," Victor corrected shamelessly. Reginald sneered, though he didn't look surprised. The room was silent. Reggie didn't bother shooting back an insult, nor an accusation. It would seem as though he got what he wanted, and was satisfied now to hear it admitted.
"I never had a proper father, Reginald. Nor any figure to look up to. I know it's been only a couple of months, but he's filled that role. He's someone I can trust, someone who understands me."
"Understands your inadequacies in calculus?" Reginald guessed, slinking back into his chair and settling his clenched fists upon the desk in front of him. He seemed hesitant to pick up the book, or anything else for that matter. As if he was worried the moment something touched his palm he would want to throw it.
"No," Victor breathed, bringing his teeth hard upon his bottom lip in an attempt to stop himself. It felt as good a time as ever, though his body seemed to reject even the action of uttering a confession, as if it viewed these words as the equivalent of self-mutilation. Like a hand that would not thrust a dagger into his own heart, neither would his tongue form the words of a similar offense.
Reggie's glasses caught the light of the lamp, hiding the thoughts inside of them and shielding his true reaction from Victor's watering eyes. The boy was still, already having made one correct assumption before, undoubtedly making another one as he stared. Reginald was clever, more clever than most. He could figure this out; by sheer process of elimination he could reason the truth. There was very little a student and Professor could share, if of course that thing was not the subject matter. Victor never fought in a war, nor did Professor Holmes ever struggle to figure out his own life. They could not share anything else, save for the deep secret that had been spilled in this very room, unwillingly and unknowingly.
"I need a breath of air," Reggie admitted, suddenly rising from his chair with the velocity of a man looking to clear a hurdle. He rose like a man possessed, not allowing Victor even a glance as he moved towards the door. The boy was silent, his ankles crossed where they hung off the bed, and he knew better than to follow.
Perhaps he had sealed his fate throughout the duration of the day. He had failed his exam and now he had chased away the only boy he had ever truly loved...chased him away with that very love. He had sabotaged the two things which kept him at this university, assuring there would be no reason to stay any longer. He had cushioned the fall of his own life with the understanding that no one would miss him at the top. It was better Reginald knew, if of course this proved to be Victor's last day on campus. It was better that Reggie was chased away with the truth, rather than sadly bidding farewell to a boy he never fully understood at all. It was better he be disgusted by the truth now, rather than send Victor's letters away unopened some fifty years down the line.