Always Tomorrow - 3. Chapter 3 - Layering

He called his mother on the walk to class. They always spoke in Thai together, and Arun liked having someone to speak it with. He doubted he’d have many opportunities over the next few years while he was at Uni. Brad only spoke English and he wasn't even good at that.

“Morning, Mum.”

“Win! Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

That was aspirational rather than true, but there was a banana in his bag. Arun didn’t have much time for dishonesty or dishonest people, but he made an exception for Mum. She would only worry, then lecture him like a child. What good would it do either of them?

“How’s your roommate?”

“Still loud. Still messy.” Arun exhaled through his nose. “He drives me crazy, but he’s nice to me.”

“That’s halfway there. Remember you have to do your part too. You might annoy him as much as he annoys you.”

“Mmhmm.” It seemed a lecture was impossible to avoid. “Is May awake?”

“Probably not.”

“She’s lazy.”

“She was working late.”

“But she’s still lazy!”

His mother made a knowing noise. “I always know when you miss your sister because you start trying to argue with her.”

Arun sighed. “Yeah," he admitted.

Mum sounded exceptionally pleased with herself, as though this had been difficult information to extract. It made Arun smile. She knew how much he loved his family, but she always needed to hear it again, like she forgot. It would have been nice to speak with May too, but his sister seemed to live one minute and one thought at a time. Arun was autistic. May had ADHD. They were both neurodivergent - “spicy,” May called it - but their minds rarely pulled them in the same direction.

Mum always joked that karma had a sense of humour. “You two must have caused trouble in your past lives to find each other again in this one,” she’d say, particularly when they argued. “I don’t know what I did to get caught in the middle.”

He spent the day as he’d spent most of the others so far - classes, getting a decent start on whatever coursework had been assigned, then browsing some of his favourite websites and taking notes from other artists. He checked his DMs for new requests and updates. HibiscusTeeHee wanted a bigger serve of cake on the Captain America draft because their girlfriend was obsessed with big butts. That made Arun chuckle out loud. They were kind and patient with their feedback, though, which meant Arun would have happily made a dozen amendments without bristling.

By late afternoon, he had reached the point where everything on his screen was beginning to blur together. He saved his work, stretched, and found Brad standing in the middle of the room with his phone in one hand and an expression of deep concentration on his face.

“You need anything from the shops?”

Arun glanced towards him. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to the shops.”

“Oh. Duh.” Arun shook his head to remove the cobwebs, and Brad laughed. “Do you mind if I come?”

“Oh. No, that’s cool.” Brad shrugged. “Why though?”

Arun stood from his desk. “There’s specific stuff I need and I don’t want to make it your problem.”

He didn’t want to, but it was probably a good idea. He was running out of fruit, cereal and milk - particular brands, too. Not Brad’s method of picking whatever the cheapest one was. Plus, Mum said he needed to make an effort, and it was only fair that he did this if Brad was doing that too.

The thought slipped out of his mouth before he vetted it. “Thanks for being nice to me, by the way.”

Brad looked confused as he watched Arun slide into his shoes. “Huh?”

“I’m probably not who you were expecting to share a room with.” Arun scooped up his keys and wallet. “I didn’t get along with sportsy blokes back at school,” he added.

“Small town?” Brad held the door open.

“How’d you know?” Arun grinned. “Thank you.”

“No wuckas.” Brad locked the door behind them. “Gay artsy Asian weirdo with bleached hair didn't get on with the footy crowd? Safest bet of my life.”

“I never told you I was gay!” Arun glared at him, and the two of them laughed. “Is it different in the city?”

“I think there are just more gay, artsy Asian weirdos with bleached hair in the city.” Brad shrugged. “I used to see dudes like you all over the place.”

“Why are you living on Res if you're from the city? Wouldn't it be easier to stay at home?” Arun asked, puzzled as to why anyone would pay so much to live in the dorm if they didn’t have to.

Brad stared at him. “I have six little sisters, man.”

“Oh!”

Arun supposed Brad had suffered enough. He couldn't imagine living with six Mays. He'd definitely prefer to roll the roommate roulette.

Fifteen minutes later, Arun was pushing a trolley behind Brad in Woolworths and suspecting he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Brad didn’t have a list, or a plan, or a route. He only remembered things when he walked past them, then doubled back without warning, and any bright discount sticker caught his attention whether or not he wanted it.

It was infuriating, to be sure, but also strangely similar. May shopped exactly like this. The realisation softened something in Arun before he could stop it. Brad was still loud, messy and apparently incapable of moving through a supermarket in a straight line, but there was something reassuring about the chaos when Arun recognised its shape. Maybe that was why he was starting to like him. Brad reminded him, just slightly, of home.

He thought about Mum’s warning that he was probably just as annoying to Brad as Brad was to him. He wondered whether that was true. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Arun picked up his usual brand of oat milk and put it in the trolley.

“That’s bougie,” Brad noted.

“Yeah, well this is my gift to you.” Arun raised an eyebrow. When Brad didn’t make the connection, he added, “Lactose intolerant. Call it the Asian tax.”

Brad nodded like he understood, then frowned like he didn’t. “Is that actually true?”

“Probably not.” Arun poked his tongue out. “At least, it is for me. I’m also not good with gluten, so it’s better to pick out my own stuff.”

“I never know when you’re joking.” Brad rolled his eyes.

It was a relief to get back to Res. Wednesday night was no different from any other - the common room was noisy, crowded and impossible to settle in. That was okay. Arun had somewhere else to go. The library would be quiet and predictable, and while it was probably too early for the nice stranger, Arun expected to see him later. Highlighter ink and biker chains. Not a combination on his bingo card, but he’d decided he liked it. Easy on the eyes, ears and nose. A treat for all senses.

Arun arrived earlier than the previous two nights. He’d already done the laundry, eaten a pear rather than fight with the unfamiliar kitchenette, and Brad was busy watching Reels. Nothing was keeping him at Res. He went straight to the sixth floor. Yesterday’s desk was free, wall safely behind him and the atrium ahead. Better still, the neighbouring chair was empty.

Arun paused. Someone could take it. That would ruin an arrangement that had worked perfectly well yesterday and the day before. Annoying. He tried to nest. Flip-flops off, laptop centred, drawing tablet beside it, water bottle against the corner. Then he eyed the empty place beside him. No. No, it looked much too available. His visual communication textbook went onto the neighbouring desk. One book wasn’t convincing, so he added his sketchbook, a pencil and a spare notebook.

There. Occupied. Yes, it was dishonest - but not severely. There were plenty of other chairs. If anything, this one was already spoken for. It belonged to the stranger. Satisfied, Arun opened his laptop and began to work. The system worked beautifully. One girl even slowed beside the desk before noticing his things and moving on.

Arun worked for a while on assessing logos for his class, then reopened the Captain America commission. HibiscusTeeHee still wanted more junk in the trunk, so he started adjusting the pose.

Movement near the stairs caught his attention. Not him. Later, again - but it was also not him. Arun frowned at the screen. The stranger normally arrived later. There was no reason to keep checking. When he heard chains clinking, he looked up and the chains caught the light. Finally.

Arun straightened. Different band shirt. Same jacket and boots. Messier curls. And early - earlier than either of the previous nights. The stranger looked towards the desks, saw Arun, and immediately brightened. Arun smiled back before thinking about it.

Then the stranger reached the neighbouring chair and looked down at the textbook. The sketchbook. The notebook. Oh yeah.

The stranger pointed. “Someone sitting here?”

“No.” A pause. How could he admit what he’d done without it being weird? “I just didn’t want anyone sitting there.”

The stranger gave him an assessing look. “Should I find somewhere else?”

“No!” Arun blurted out, heat rushing into his cheeks. Now it was weird. “No, no, you’re welcome to sit there.” He hopped up and quickly collected his things, hastily organising them into a neat stack before picking them up. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Looks like you saved a spot for me,” the nice-smelling man teased.

“Okay, you told me you’d be here, so maybe I made sure this table was free,” Arun admitted, ears now burning as he carried his things back to his own place.

“I’m honoured. Thanks. I’m Kale, by the way.”

Finally. Kah-leh. That was a nice name. It fit him very well. He wished he'd been brave enough to ask, but luckily, Kale bailed him out. He turned, knowing it was polite to do this during introductions, and smiled.

“I’m Arun.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you properly, Arun.”

“You too!”

Arun sat criss-cross once again on his seat, settling into a comfortable position while he re-dedicated himself to Captain America’s giant butt. He couldn’t help but focus his eyes as the stranger - no, Kale - began unpacking his much more daunting collection of thick textbooks.

“What do you study?”

“Third year medicine.” Kale turned and held up one of his books, using his thumb to riffle through the pages. “It’s all late nights and caffeine for me right now.”
Arun looked at the chains, the band shirt and the combat boots again. “Huh.”

Kale sat down in the chair at the ninety-degree angle. “What does that mean?”

“You don't look like a medical student.”

“What's a medical student supposed to look like?” He was grinning now.

Arun blew his fringe from his eyes. “Less like a bass player, I guess. Why medicine? If you don't mind me asking.”

"Because I guess I love other people more than I love myself." Kale made an anguished face. When Arun cocked his head, he added, "I mean, my parents put me on this path. Then I got back at them by taking an exchange placement on the other side of the ocean."

Arun brightened and sat a little straighter. The medical textbooks, American accent and late nights were beginning to form a larger picture. “Where in America are you from?”

“Hawaii.” Kale smiled, though he also looked a little sad. Another piece settled into Arun’s still-unfinished Kale mosaic. He wondered how much Kale missed home. After a brief silence, Kale spoke again. "What do you study, Arun?"

Arun blushed. His answer suddenly felt paltry compared to medicine. “Graphic design.”

“Oh. That seems pretty obvious.”

“Because of how I dress?”

“No, because you literally draw asses for money.”

That gave Arun a fit of the giggles, and Kale looked proud of himself. They settled into their routines. Kale began to highlight an excessive amount of his pages, and Arun began to draw an excessive amount of “ass.” Arun found difficulty finding the line between fan service and ridiculous, and grew irritable once he’d backtracked for the seventeenth time. He needed a break, but he wasn’t quite ready to return to either of the not-suitable-for-work commissions. Nor did he care to do any coursework so late in the evening.

His eyes rested on Kale, whose head was just returning to his book, as if he’d been looking around. Arun stretched, whimpering as his spine clicked and his shoulders followed, then he crossed his ankles under the desk, slinking a little further back in his seat. Kale seemed to succumb to the power of suggestion, standing and stretching. He flashed a smile at his study companion, then rotated around the desk and sat in a different spot. Now they were facing each other again. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Kale do this - Monday night, on level five. Why was that, he wondered? He didn’t have a window distracting him this time.

Arun pondered, resting his cheek against his knuckles. Maybe he could go back to his room and have an early night. He liked it here, though. While Kale seemed intent on looking at his book, Arun’s eyes assessed him again, watching his lips move and his nostrils occasionally flare as he read his text. Sometimes his eyes glanced upwards, but usually not for long. Like he was making sure Arun was still there.

Arun’s hand seemed to move on its own, as he began to draw the table in front of him. Outlines of books, a bag, two empty chairs and highlighters scattered a little too clumsily. Then shoulders. Neck. Oval face, with unruly curls buzzed at the side. Almond-shaped eyes, and a slightly flat, wide nose. Big lips. A five-o’clock shadow, like he’d started the day clean-shaven but his face couldn’t hold out until midnight. He was definitely good-looking. Easy to draw. Especially when he looked up and smiled just a little bit. He had beautiful teeth.

“What are you drawing?” Kale eventually asked.

Uh oh. “Nothing fun.”

“Can I see?”

Arun chewed his lip. “It’s a little intimate.”

“You draw naughty things?” Kale chuckled. “Now that is a surprise.”

Not that kind of intimate. “I don’t think you’d be interested. It’s a gay thing.”

“Then I’m definitely interested.” Kale grinned ear to ear.

Oh no. This worked to redirect James last Monday, but Arun hadn’t factored in the possibility that Kale was gay. “Maybe when I finish. I don’t like it yet.”

Kale looked disappointed. “Only if you promise.”

“I… dunno. Maybe.”

Now, it was weird. That wasn’t good. He tucked his legs back up criss-cross. Kale returned to his book, seemingly unbothered, but Arun couldn’t settle back into the drawing. He looked at the unfinished portrait on his screen and suddenly became aware of how much attention he’d paid to every detail of Kale’s face. Worse, he’d let Kale think it was explicit. And gay. Why did he do that? Why did he put his things on the table for Kale to find? He was trying not to let Kale know how weird he was.

Eventually it was too much. He unplugged his devices, getting Kale’s attention.

“Leaving already?”

“I’m going to get an early night. I didn’t sleep well,” said Arun. It wasn’t untrue.

“Aw, okay. Well… always tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

When Arun turned back to look at Kale on his way down the stairs, he flushed when he saw Kale watching him go. Maybe Kale was still trying to work out what the hell had been wrong with him tonight.

Arun didn't sleep well again. It was impossible to find the perfect position, the right amount of blanket, or the correct number of toes poking out from the sheets into the cooler air. Every time he found the right temperature and pose, real comfort, he would think about how awkward he’d been tonight. There were a hundred different things Arun could have done or said, and all of the ones he could think of would have made more sense.

Why did he have to be so weird?