Lonerism

Twix & Apollo (R)

A.N. An update is long overdue I know. I was going to update when I hit 4K followers as a thank you to all of you, but it's a bit late. But in any case, this is a cute one shot dedicated to all of you guys, xoxo, Clay.

Twix & Apollo

I didn't cry when I said goodbye to my parents.

My mom grabbed me and pulled me into her, sniffling to herself. My dad nodded, a smile on the corner of his lips, and shook my hand. He took off his old, worn-out denim baseball cap and pushed it onto my head. He'd used to tell me, when I was a kid sitting on his lap, that his dad gave it to him, and he'd give it to me, when I'd became a man.

I guess that was today.

Then I watched them shuffle back into the car quietly, mumbling their last goodbyes. They left me outside of my new college dorm, bags in hand. I wouldn't see them again until Christmas.

I shouldn't have felt sad. I'd worked so hard, my mom would say. I deserved to be here. This would be my future. The next years of my life would be spent here, and not back in my childhood home. I should be feeling great, like I'd finally made it, but I still wished, only for a second, that I was back home again.

It passed quickly, though, as I headed inside the Victorian style, red-bricked building I'd been assigned to live in. Inside were crowds of new students, clambering around to find their dorms with their luggage trailing behind them. I'd been assigned to G4, a two-bedroom dorm on the ground floor. It was pretty easy to find. It was then that I met him.

I pushed into the dorm and chucked my bags onto the nearest sofa. The first thing I spotted were stacks of canvas paintings piled and lined all around the room.

"Hello?" he'd asked, bouncing from his bedroom door. His hair was blond and wavy, pushed back behind his ears. He wore a plain white vest and torn shorts, and was splattered from nearly head to toe in a rainbow of different coloured paint. Art student, I sighed. Always the messiest, and probably the most pretentious. I knew I'd spend the next year cleaning up after his mess.

"What's up? I'm you're new roommate," I greeted, holding out my hand.

"Hey, I'm Twix. Art student, if you couldn't tell," he laughed, sliding the paintbrush he held in his hands behind his ear and firmly shaking my hand.

"Twix?" I asked,

"Timothy Twix, but everyone just calls me Twix. Sounds a lot more mysterious, doesn't it?"

I took a quick look around the room, over the  paintings he'd left everywhere, and smiled. "What kinda paintings are these?" I asked, feigning interest. I was never the artsy type. His paintings just looked like a collection of colourful lines and shapes. They weren't particularly good, either.

"They're all life sketches," he admitted.

"Of what?" I paused. "I mean, what are they supposed to be?"

He laughed again, taking a step back. "You can't tell?"

"No, sorry."

"Have another look. It'll come to you."

"Im sorry, I have no idea."

"They're dicks," he said.

I coughed awkwardly, then took another look at them, and looked away almost immediately. "Oh," was all I could say.

"Yeah," he smiled. He had a certain confidence about him, and I couldn't tell if I found it genuine or just plain arrogant. "It's a bit weird, I know. I'm just trying to make space for them in my bedroom. I didn't think anybody would see them."