Devil's Fate

Cupcakes and Champagne

Mike reached into his backpack for a different color highlighter, pulling out a blue one while he kept an ear on the professor. So far at USC he'd found his greatest challenge to be music history. There were so many dates to memorize, and a lot of overlap on time periods and genres. He knew this first semester was just an overview of the next four semesters to come, and it was important to get a good foundation. He highlighted in blue the overlapping years, and saved the orange for years that belonged solely to one time period. It made sense that there was overlap, as composers innovated and started to change styles.

He loved it. He loved every moment of the class, despite the fact it took far more studying than he thought it would. For every hour he spent in lecture, he spent another three reading, outlining, and writing, but so far he had an A in the class. The one math class he needed to take for his degree was a snap, he was keeping up with his practice, and doing fine in aural skills despite never having considered himself a singer. Even music theory - an entirely new skill set for him - was going well. His T.A. didn't miss an opportunity to compliment him in class.

The thought of Matt distracted Mike from the lecture for a moment. His homework was tucked inside a folder in his backpack, and Mike was confident in his work. Knowledge of the subject matter or the quality of his work wasn't the reason his stomach took a nervous turn when he thought of his next class. It didn't even bother him that Matt liked to call on him frequently. Mike usually knew the answer when he was asked. What bothered him was the way Matt smiled at him sometimes. It made Mike feel uncomfortable, and if he'd been friends with anyone in the class, he might have asked if anyone else noticed. But he had made a point to keep to himself, so there wasn't anyone he trusted enough to ask.

The other students in his classes were familiar faces, but Mike hadn't gotten into the study groups and trival party scene. He wasn't the most experienced person, by any means, but he'd lived a lot of life in the past three years and felt like he didn't identify with the other students. All he wanted to do when he left class was get home to Chester, whether that was to share a meal or something a little more, or to simply fall asleep together. It was different from the casual dating he heard snippets of between students before class started.

Mike glanced around the large lecture hall. There were a few students he could call by name, but not many. Most of the faces he could pick out were piano majors like him, and he saw them in his weekly studio class. Two other young guys, Evan and John, and a girl, Emma. None of them were in his theory class with Matt, so it wouldn't do any good to ask them. He focused back on the rest of the history lecture, taking small notes in the margins of his textbook in his blocky capital lettering until class was over.

He decided not to put the music history book in his backpack, opting instead to carry the heavy volume to his next class. It was in the same building, on the ground floor, a smaller classroom that only held about thirty people instead of the two hundred in his history class. Mike walked slowly, making sure he wouldn't be the first person in the room. He hated the way he felt pressured to make small talk just because he was in the room, and he really didn't want to have to talk to Matt any more than necessary. I don't want him to think even for a second that I want to be friends. He keeps asking me to come out with the graduate students and I keep saying no. I'm not a graduate student, even if I am old enough to be. If I'd started college after high school, I could be a graduate student. If I wanted to do that. I wonder if I'll want to do that. He pondered that thought as he went into the room, carefully setting his textbook on the desk and dropping his backpack next to him when he sat down.

There were still a few minutes before class started, so he fished his phone out of his pocket. It lit up instantly with a picture of him and Chester, a selfie they'd taken sitting on the couch in the tiny apartment. Mike smiled as he unlocked his phone and opened a text message.