Metanoia (Part I)

Ambridge University, New York City.
2009.

If her typing didn’t stop, he’d probably jump out of the nearest window, pull a BBC Sherlock and come back after two years of disputed hiatus and mindless theories.

But that would be a mess to explain (and survived), so the male student could only resist the urge to bang his head against the wall.

Click clack click clack click. Clack click. Clack clack clack...

“You need to catch a break, woman,” Blake Williams groans as he watches the girl type endlessly on her Mac. “Jesus. That isn’t even due for a week. Are they killing you over at ForSci or something?” No response. Rolling his eyes, Blake bounced back on her roommate’s bed. “Huh. No wonder Luke hasn’t been getting some lately. Speaks why he’s such in a cranky mood,” he cackled.

“Fuck off, Blake.”

“Ooh, touchy.”

The lady turned to him with a raised brow, her thick-frame glasses nearly falling off. After pushing it back, she retorted, “I don’t see you working on your own thesis, B.”

“Thesis, shmesis. I’ve got a week left, darling. I work best under pressure.”

“Mhm, sure. Keep saying that,” she muttered, turning back to her laptop and typing. “Seen Luke or Madeleine around? I need to proofread her thesis, and he needs to proofread mine.” The boy shrugged, picking up a stray magazine and flipping through the pages, uninterested.

“I think they’re getting coffee or something.”

“Now I remember.” She backspaced and inserted a few more words, “I wonder how you’re able to cope. I mean, if I took freaking Medical Science I would probably be on coffee and whatever.”

“I just do. Or it’s my passion in the human body that helps me get through it.”

Hearing this, she snorted loudly.

“Flings aren’t an excuse.”

“Oh, come on. The ladies love it! Excuse me; I’d like to study your amazing physique for my thesis report. Bam. I get laid and more research on my thesis – done.”

“What, you compare bust sizes and hips?”

“That’s a secret. You’ll find out when you proofread and see how excellent it is.”

“Keep dreaming.”

At that, two people entered the room without knocking. A tan-skinned lady carrying four drinks bounced in and landed on the bed with grace (without spilling the drinks), and a taller man who bore a creepy resemblance to Blake followed, closing the door.

“I’ve got coffee! Chai Tea Latte for Blake, Hot Chocolate for Luke, Dark Mocha for A and Green Tea Cream for me,” Madeline Silvetti read, passing along the drinks to the people in the room. Her brunette hair was in a high bun, nails painted an electric blue to match the braces on her teeth. Luke Donner immediately started drinking from his, dropping the paper bag at his feet, which made Madeline gasp and hit him over the head with a rolled-up magazine.

“Damn it, woman – what the hell was that for!?” he growled.

“The snacks! You almost ruined the snacks!”

“Fuck the snacks, I’ve got my chocolate-”

“Luke, you better not squash my banoffee pie,” the lady at the laptop growled. Laughing nervously, he quickly got the plastic container and passed it to her, relieved when she opened to see a perfectly normal piece of banoffee pie.

“He’s getting laid tonight,” Blake sang, and the two blushed with Madeline snickering.

“Keep it in your pants, Donner. Callaghan here wants to finish her thesis.”

Luke scowled, still blushing.

Arianne Callaghan could only bury her face in a nearby pillow.

Hours later, Madeline and Blake had  left to catch dinner and go to the library for much more needed research. Madeline, who was going to enter the film industry, needed all the examples she could get. She had finally persuaded Blake to start his own paper, and the black-haired man had left with his own laptop tucked safely inside his own bag.

They had left Arianne and Luke alone in Madeline and Arianne’s dorm, and Luke was silently pouring over three textbooks all at once. At first, Arianne had thought it was weird but grew used to it as the months went by.

His grey eyes scanned over the text and he listened as she muttered quietly to herself, editing and scanning and typing endlessly. Luke closed once of the books and glanced up at her, smiling slightly at her form by the table. Her black hair was up in a bun, messy and about to fall apart, and she smelled lightly of coffee.

“Blake’s right sometimes, you know.”

“Hm?” she looked at him, her glasses off this time. They rested inside her black container, and Luke could slightly make out the marks that the glasses left on her skin from being pushed back over and over again. “Right about what?”

“You needing to rest.”

“Such a worry wart…I need to finish this in three days’ time, Luke. So I can do all the revisions for the following two days, and finish whatever for the rest.”

“Don’t you schedule?”

“That is my schedule.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, as if resisting the urge to laugh.

“Alright, I guess. I’ll just finish this chapter and I can help you out with yours.”

“I…I’d like that,” she managed. Luke turned back to his books and Arianne was left there. She shook her head and continued reading, silently pouring over the document before finally saving half an hour later. “Are you done?”

“Mhm, just finished.” Although he didn’t finish a few paragraphs, that could wait. He stuck the silver bookmark back in and looked up to see her stretching, finally getting out of the chair and walking to the bed with a loud yawn. “Tired?”

“A bit,” she admitted, smiling slightly. “Move over, Donner. That’s my bed you’re sitting on.”

“Right, right.” He moved over to the left and she slowly lay down, Luke smirking ever so slightly and watching as she closed her eyes. “You should sleep.”

“Sleep, shmeep. It’s gonna be dinner soon.”

“I’ll wake you when Mads and Blake arrive.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.”

Her breathing deepened as she fell asleep, and he watched fondly before planting a kiss on her forehead.