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expectations.

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“This theory then allows you to …”

 

“The chemical makeup of calcite consists of …”

 

“Your test grades will be up by next week.”

 

Your classes seem to both crawl by and pass in the blink of an eye, sleep deprived haze only cured by the overpriced coffee you tote around. Quickly written notes, little recordings of lectures saved onto your phone, planner not-so-neatly decked out in important dates -- college life has always been hectic, but in light of the upcoming summer break, as well as the final exams before it, you can say that it’s definitely worse than usual.

 

Your final professor of the day lets you out just on time, with a note on how the rest of the lecture will be completed on Wednesday -- Monday lectures are never quite finished on time anyways, so you’re at least grateful he doesn’t keep you past the scheduled time. Your phone reads ‘ 2 PM ’, and for you, that means a belated lunch time.

 

Quite frankly, grilled cheese has never tasted so good, you think to yourself as you happily finish off the rest of the sandwich. It’s the cheapest thing the cafe on campus sells, and you can’t really complain. After dumping your trash, and walking to the bathroom to wash your hands and re-apply your lip balm, however, a thought strikes you.

 

“I forgot to email my English professor.”

 

Fingers furiously tap at the screen of your phone, a hastily-written email to said professor on the verge of being finished. “Just a few more weeks,” you think, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as you walk briskly towards the parking lot, eyes trained on the final sentence. However, you find yourself so preoccupied in your thoughts, that the uneven concrete doesn’t catch your attention, and your world begins to tilt on its axis before you can catch yourself, a surprised yelp ripped from your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut, shoulders pulled up to brace for impact --

 

Woah , you okay?”

 

A pair of arms reach out, catching you -- what surely would have ended up in a nasty set of bruises and scrapes becomes something much, much nicer. Pretty, aquamarine eyes stare owlishly at you -- and you can’t help but to blink back in kind, the momentary shock slowly fading from your face.

 

“Y-Yeah ..? I think so, at least.”

 

Your voice is much, much smaller than you’d intended it to be, a sheepish smile pulling at your lips as you straighten up, and proceed to release your almost-death-grip on the blonde stranger. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you pocket your phone and give him a proper once-over.

 

“Thank you so, so much -- I really can be super clumsy at times and .. and I’m just rambling now, aren’t I?” You end with a nervous giggle, rubbing the back of your neck. He shakes his head, and when he laughs -- you can’t tell if it’s with you, or at you -- regardless of which, you swear you can feel your heart skip a beat. ‘ Boy Next Door’ rings in your head. Suddenly, the birds start chirping a bit clearer, and the sky seems even sunnier.

 

“Hey, it’s nothing. It happens, yeah?” You nod along, idle fingers adjusting the strap of your backpack, carefully studying his face. He doesn’t seem too familiar … then again, you tend to stick to one side of campus. Internally, you shrug, but your train of thought is interrupted by the buzz of your phone.

 

“Sorry to cut this so short, I almost forgot I had uh … grocery duty?” You stick your hand out to him, smile turning sheepish once more. “I’m (y/n), by the way. Nice to meet you!” The blonde pauses for a moment, tilting his head to the side and slowly repeating your name before giving your hand a quick shake. “The name’s Demyx! Nice meeting you too!”

 

You wave goodbye to him, and on the short drive back to your apartment, you can’t help but to drum your hands happily on the steering wheel, singing along to some Hayley Kiyoko song, bobbing your head to the beat. A tiny voice in your head chastises you for getting so giddy over your little run-in, but it’s overcome by your penchant for acting like a teenager caught up in love at first sight.

 


 

One detour to grab another pack of ramen and some tea later, and you finally wind up at home, scurrying up the staircase and placing the cartons down to fish your keys back out of your pocket. Finally managing to unlock the door, you nudge it open, only to be greeted by your younger roommate childishly berating you.

 

“(Y/n)! What took you so looooong ?” she cries out, walking over to help you with the iced tea cartons. “No way a little grocery shopping took you all this time. I was so lonely and hungry, you know?” You snort at her, lightly kicking the door closed and making your way to the kitchen. “Well, yeah … you could say something did happen, Yuffie.”

 

A rather loud gasp nearly makes you jump, and when you spin around, the short-haired girl’s got her hands covering her mouth. “Oh my god, was it Seifer? Did you finally agree to go out with him? Did he try to kiss you? D--”

 

You shake your head vigorously, hands moving side to side in a ‘no-thanks’ fashion. “Oh god no, Yuffie!” Heat creeps up onto your cheeks, and as soon as she spots it, she starts snickering. “Alright, (y/n), if that’s what you want me to believe …!” Before you can attempt to convince her again, she pops her headphones back in, and gets to raiding the pantry for mac n’ cheese. You, however, go to grab the milk and extra cheese from the fridge, placing them on the counter and dragging your feet to the couch to take a half-assed nap while Yuffie did her thing.

 

A good fifteen minutes later, said girl nudges you awake, plopping next to you on the couch with a bowl of cheesy goodness in hand. “Go get some!” she crows after you, shoving a fork-full of pasta into her mouth. You wave her off playfully, shuffling to the bathroom to wash your hands, and then bedroom to change into comfier clothes. A shower can wait till later, you think.

 

“So, Yuffie. Wanna actually hear what happened earlier?” you begin, mouth stuffed as you tote dinner to the couch. She nods enthusiastically, eyes bright with interest, but too hungry to give you an actual answer. You regale her with your tale of powering through class on four hours of sleep, hastily emailing your professor about your final paper, and then finally, to Demyx.

 

Whaaaaat ? You’re telling me some cute blonde dude saved you like that, and you didn’t try to make a move?” she cries, eyes blown wide as she leans into your space. “I’m telling you, you’re gonna be single forever! You … you let your hero walk away like that!” You roll your eyes, taking a good, long sip of tea to avoid answering her right away. “He totally isn’t my hero, Yuffie! He’s just some nice guy who happened to help me out -- life isn’t a movie, anyhow,” you sigh, forlorn gaze thrown over your shoulder.

 

The younger girl shakes her head, a hand placed on your shoulder. “It might not be, but you’ve been single forever , (y/n). I know the thing with that one guy didn’t work out, but you shouldn’t let that get you down! Maybe you’ll run into him again … did you get his number?”

 

Your negative response makes her let out a frustrated cry, and you prepare yourself for another one of her lectures. What a great way to start your week!