“Coffee?” Brennan said.
“Man after my own heart,” Cole had said, and Brennan remembered vividly the secret smile he’d given him then. Really, if not from the Southern drawl, Brennan couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized him based off that smile.
But once he’d offered Brennan a blanket and a mug of shitty instant coffee, Brennan had just—unleashed it all. Word-vomited about college not being what he’d expected and having no friends andalso,what the fuck are we supposed to do about the wage gap when Congress has been dragging their feet about fifteen dollars for the last decade, and does it evenmatterwhen we’re all specks in the universe who are going to die either way?
He’d been so embarrassed at the outburst he’d said most of this into his hands, shielding his face from the world. He didn’t want to be perceived, and Cole respectfully asked questions where appropriate and agreed when he could and just. Listened. His mug saidMY WEEKEND IS BOOKEDwith an illustration of stacks of books, and his hands looped around it delicately.
Cole had listened, and nodded, and sipped his coffee while Brennan talked and drank his own and refused to make eye contact. After his rant, he caught his breath and realized that Cole hadn’t had to say anything and he already felt better.
“Wow, I need to go back to therapy,” Brennan had said in conclusion.
Cole snorted a laugh and then covered his mouth with his hand in apology. “Maybe so,” he said, and Brennan still only looked at him in quick, mortified glances, but he could hear the smile in his voice. “Either way, if you ever need some space to relax that brain of yours, this space is usually free. If it’s ever locked, you can find me, I’m—” He’d coughed. “I’m around.”
And that was when Brennan’s anxiety had finally taken the reins, because this guyworked hereand had better things to do than listen to Brennan whine about his first-world white-boy bullshit problems. He shot up from his seat and put the mug on the crate like it burned.
“Right, that’s very generous, thank you,” Brennan rushed out. “I’m here a lot, I’m sure I’ll see you around. But I should go.”
And so he went!
That was it, really. A one-sided encounter that Brennan sure as hell wouldn’t be posting about on any Facebook groups.
So then, why did he feel like shit about it? Dread sunk in his stomach, aTitanicleaking anxiety.
Rooting himself back in the present, Brennan closed his laptop and started shoving his notes and computer away. The library now was as empty as it had been that night, but this time there was sound drifting up from downstairs—voices, laughter, keyboards clacking.
Brennan shouldered his backpack and headed out, across the second floor, around a student snoozing over an art project, down the stairs, and into the main area.
A quick scan showed it wasn’t crowded, and he spotted Cole with a girl who was burrito-wrapped in her blanket and literally crying into Cole’s shoulder.
“Like, does she hate me that much? Why else would she just fuck off the day after moving in?”
Brennan hesitated at the door, social norms telling him not to eavesdrop. His curiosity won out, as always.
“Well, did you tell your RA?” Cole asked.
“She said it was nothing,” the girl said. “But it’s been days now. What if something happened to her?”
Brennan froze. A girl, missing, the day after students returned to campus. Also known as the day Brennan was turned into a vampire during a car accident he didn’t fully remember.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to clear his head from the fog that descended when he went too long without snacking on some poor squirrel. He was so thirsty his throat felt like a rash, which was getting fucking old, to be frank. He’d accomplished nothing yet except new levels of thirst and anxiety.
As if sensing Brennan’s gaze, Cole looked up from across the way and spotted Brennan. His head tilted ever so slightly, and Brennan did what he did best: he ran.
BRENNAN’S JOURNAL
More thirst = senses go haywire? Everyone smells like agoddamnsmoothie.
RANT
How manyfuckingwoodland creatures do I have to kill to stop being sogoddamnthirsty?
Nothing seems to help. It dulls the ache for a while but doesn’t satiate it.
I have a hypothesis, but I’m going to consider some other options before I start having an existential crisis about something that might not even be the case.
Fuck.
Substitutes?
