Hate | Love

What the F***...I'm Not Done Yet! (Part 2/2)

(Chapter 5 - Part 3/3 of the novel)

In the dim light cast by the street lamps that lined the pavement, the dorm looked forlorn. It stood like a lone sentinel, bleak and stark against the dark night sky already dotted with stars.

Tharn hastened his footsteps.

It was near eleven, the curfew for the student residents and he knew that the dorm manager would lock the doors soon. He was tired. And hungry; having come from the music studio of the university to drown his thoughts with the relentless beat of his drums.

As cold as the dormitory building was, Tharn felt like it was a warm welcome. Though, at the back of his mind, he knew what was waiting for him was hardly a welcome. He still had to come back and sleep, only passing by the 24-hour convenience store on the way to buy some snacks and soda although he still had a bag of snacks left in his room.

He could not take the anguished face of Type from his thoughts. At least, he was able to forget about what he was sure were tears in the few hours that he was beating on the drums in frustration. He knew he made a mistake. Despite his anger, despite the hatred for bigotry and the memories of his past that always seem so fresh as soon as his roommate flung words all too familiar to him from when he was younger, he should have had more control. But he had a few drinks. And his animosity at the situation got the better of him.

As he stepped into the main doorway of the dormitory, he sighed. He knew there was something that was triggering Type. But he also knew that Type was his trigger; the embodiment of all the hatred and all the prejudices that people have continued to stack on top of him just because he was different from they perceived as normal.

He took the stairs with heavy steps rather than the elevator. He had to gather his thoughts and angst inside if he was to face Type again. It had become a never-ending battle of pride and hostility and he did not know what it was that awaited him.

He stopped at the hallway in front of the room. Took a deep breath and gingerly opened the door.

It was already dark inside the room. To the left of the room, he could see the sleeping figure of Type. Hunched inside the cocoon that was his comforter, his face serene. He looked unthreatening. He looked almost childlike from what Tharn could see of his face from the meager light that filtered through the window from the lights outside.

Tharn took out his phone and turned the flashlight on. He didn't want to disturb the sleeping figure by turning on the lights in the room. His stomach grumbled in protest and he remembered that he wasn't able to grab dinner earlier. He walked straight towards the side table where the plastic from the convenience store was still there. Only to find his note turned around with a new note written on the Post-It.

"I DON'T CARE! I ATE IT!" it said.

"What the fuck!" Tharn swore, dropping the new bag of food and drinks and taking the empty plastic with the note. His was voice loud enough to echo inside the room. "When I say don't touch my food, I meant don't fucking touch my food," he added, grabbed a pair of pajama's that was on his bedside chair and stalked off towards the bathroom, slamming the door.

Type stirred from his feigned slumber, tiptoed to the table where the new bag of food was placed. He looked at the items inside and smiled, muttering to himself, "More food to steal tomorrow then. You dumbass, I will drive you nuts until you take your filthy self away from anywhere near me," before walking back towards his bed and getting back under the covers as if nothing happened.

Unknown to Type, Tharn was listening. He heard every single word.

Tharn looked at the note in his hand, seeing the angry scrawl that was Type's. He knew Type wouldn't accept anything if he gave it to him. And his guilt was eating him from inside. So he purposely put that note so that Type would be prompted to take the food thinking that Tharn would be displeased. But that bag was bought for him. It was a small gesture to make to ease the feeling of disgust Tharn felt for himself. He was not that person. He may have been provoked but he could have been a better person. But he was human and he made a mistake. He would rather see Type as arrogant and a prick than to see that defeated face again – a face that so much like a child about to cry in fear. Tharn felt like a creep.

He clutched at the note like a lifeline to sanity. And whispered, "Sorry, I'm sorry Type... for making you cry."

***

"You jerk," Tharn's voice rang through Type's consciousness, jolting him awake. "There are ants on my bed, you asshole."

Type almost smiled but stopped himself. Instead, he opened his eyes and saw that Tharn was already in uniform and was about to head out. He was standing across the room, but the anger on his face was plain to see. He was pointing an accusing finger at Type's face.

"You're despicable," Tharn growled through gritted teeth, "I may not have evidence now but I will make sure that I get proof that you are shit."

"Goodluck with that!" Type could not help but reply.

"Dammit," Tharn swore, stalking off and leaving the room in anger.

Type sat up. "Now, what do I do next?" He was all out of ideas. He was thinking it was probably time to harvest crazy thoughts from Techno again.

Outside the hallway, Tharn was feeling good about himself. He knew Type was about to be late. He had to wake him up, and somehow he was able to.

"Hope you don't get in trouble in class, roomie," he said, walking with high spirits toward the direction of the Music Faculty building.

***

It was already late in the afternoon when Type went back to his room. It was late for him, but he knew that his roommate wouldn't be in the room until later that night. He had been mussing for most of the day on what needed to be done next in his quest to shoo Tharn out of the room but he was running out of ideas. In fact, Techno was of little help.

He needed to think of something really fast because he was drained from all the anger that seemed to live within the four corners of their dorm room. It was not only Tharn and himself anymore. There was him, the gay drummer and the anger. It was a palpable presence and Type could barely stand it anymore.

As expected, he found the room quiet. And somehow foreign.

He dropped his backpack beside his bed and stretched his body on the soft mattress.

DING

A message alert sounded from his phone.

He took it out. It was a notification from Oam. On their group chat was a link to a video.

"What the hell Oam!" groaned one of the female members of their chat group.

"Hey," Oam replied, a sticker of a grinning emoji came with his reply, "Go and watch it before it gets deleted."

"Christ Oam," another girl chatmate commented, "My mom is beside me pervert, how would it look to her if she sees me watching porn!"

"Oh yeah," Techno was fast to add in, "Wait a sec guys, brb, I need to go to the restroom."

Type laughed. He knew what Techno was up to. He certainly knew what was definitely up.

He clicked on the link and his screen was filled with the view of a girl with humungous breasts.

Type sat up on bed, looking at the video from the link Oam sent. He was stressed from all the things he had to endure about Tharn lately and being a healthy young man, the video was making him feel hot.

Unable to suppress it anymore, he grabbed at the box of tissue on his table and started to unzip his strained pants with one hand. He leaned back on the head board, one hand holding his mobile where the video was being played, his other hand holding on to his straining cock.

For a moment, he thought about going to the bathroom to take care of business but he was too horny. He bit on his lower lip, his hands going a little faster, his breath coming in bursts of air.

While he did lock the door, he forgot to consider that Tharn had his own set of keys. The girl's moans were loud coming from the mobile, Type was focused on what he was seeing and his hands had a mind of their own.

He did not hear the doorknob turn... he did not hear the door open.

"What the fuck are you doing?" boomed Tharn's voice.

Type froze. His dick in his hand. Tharn loomed over him, looking at what was twitching in one fist.

"What the Fuck, "Type cried out, "I'm not done yet!"