Always Tomorrow - 4. Chapter 4 - Negative Space

Arun was back at school, although he couldn't remember arriving. His shoes were too tight. That was the first thing he noticed. His collar was buttoned all the way to his throat despite the heat, and somebody had tied his necktie too tightly. Arun hooked one finger beneath it and pulled. It didn't loosen.

The art room was full. That was wrong too. Visual Arts had never been this crowded. There were boys from his class, boys from May's classes, people he vaguely recognised from primary school and several others whose faces his brain had apparently invented. They filled every stool and leaned against every bench, all talking over one another beneath the fluorescent lights. Too full and too loud.

Arun looked down. His sketchbook was open in front of him, and he closed it quickly.

“What's that?”

His stomach tightened. One of the sportsy boys was standing beside him. Arun couldn't remember his name. He knew he'd known it once.

“Nothing.”

“Show us.”

“No.”

The boy reached for the sketchbook. Arun tried to grab it first, but the other boy’s hands were like lightning. Everyone laughed. He wasn’t sure why. Nothing was funny.

“You’re so weird.”

“Give it back.”

The book moved from one person to another. Arun stood. His chair scraped horribly against the floor, and the noise made him cringe. Everyone looked at him.

“Give it back!” he shouted.

Someone began flicking through the pages. There were drawings Arun recognised and drawings he didn't. Character studies. Logos. Faces. May asleep on the couch. Then men from films and games whose features he had liked enough to practise. A portrait of a boy. Arun couldn't see who.

“Is this your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“It is!”

The crowd laughed, and they tore the page out of his book to share around. Arun looked towards the teacher. She was sitting at her desk, still in the pink cardigan she often wore. She could see them. He knew she could.

“Can you tell them to give it back?”

The teacher sighed. “Arun, if you stop reacting, they'll get bored.”

He stared at her. “But they don’t. It’s mine and they took it!” He was beginning to cry now, in front of everyone.

She rolled her eyes. “Stop making a big deal out of everything.”

Arun looked helplessly back at the crowd.

“Why is it so intimate?” one of them asked.

“I dunno. He’s a freak,” someone replied.

Arun caught a glimpse of his drawing as they made fun of it. It was a portrait. Dark curls. Almond-shaped eyes. A slightly flat, wide nose. Big lips in a half-smile.

“Can I see?”

Arun woke eighteen minutes before his alarm, relieved to find he wasn’t back at school. He stared at the ceiling, looking at the hundreds of tiny holes in the panels. His heart was beating too quickly and he was suddenly acutely aware of how uncomfortable he was. He shed his sheets and sat upright, hugging his knees to his chest. It was loud. Not audibly. He’d tried to explain to May, but she never quite understood what he meant. Brad was breathing softly and the fan hummed, clicking faintly, but that was all. It was so... loud.

He climbed quietly from bed, comforted when the bottoms of his feet touched carpet. He ran his hands through his hair to stop it from touching his face and pressed his toes against the floor over and over again. His eyes moved around the room. His notebook was crooked beneath his laptop, so he got up and fixed it. The charging cable wasn’t coiled properly, so he wound it neatly. The water bottle wasn’t quite aligned and his pens were leaning in the wrong direction. His pillow wasn't sitting evenly either. He fixed them.

His gaze moved across the room and his nose crinkled. One of Brad’s running shoes was beside the wardrobe. The other was underneath his desk. Arun stared at them as the fan hummed and Brad breathed. He picked up the shoe and put it beside the other one, both toes facing forwards. Then he looked at Brad’s desk. Brad's wallet lay diagonally across a notebook. Three coins were scattered beside it.

Arun crossed the room and made sure the wallet was parallel with the desk, the coins in a pile from largest to smallest, keys beside them. The drawer beneath Brad’s desk was slightly open. Arun pushed the shorts hanging from it back inside and shut it. There were two shirts on Brad's bed. Arun couldn't tell whether they were clean or dirty, so he folded them and left them at the foot of the mattress instead.

Arun exhaled deeply, like he could breathe properly for the first time since he’d got home from the library. It was as though his brain had edges again, and the noise died down around him. He could hear Brad breathing and the fan humming. They were only sounds again. He looked around the room, morning light filtering through the half-closed blinds by the kitchenette. It was immaculate. Brad’s side had never looked neat before. Arun chewed his lip when he realised he’d probably overstepped. Brad never asked him to touch his things. Still, the room was tidy and organised. Maybe he’d like it?

Arun went to shower. There, he shaved the facial fuzz that would eventually become stubble, and dealt with the regrowth in his armpits. He wasn’t brave enough to shave anything else - not here, and maybe not even in his room. What would people say? He could only imagine Brad opening their door and seeing him. It felt like true privacy was an eternity away.

When he returned, Brad was still asleep. Remarkably. Arun dressed, made some chamomile tea, answered two messages from clients and spent almost forty minutes working before Brad finally stirred. The first sign was a low groan from behind him, which briefly caught Arun’s ear. Brad rolled onto his back, stared vacantly at the ceiling and scratched his stomach beneath his shirt.

“Morning,” said Arun quietly.

“Mornin,” Brad groaned, much louder.

The freckly redhead rubbed both hands over his face, yawned, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. Brad stood, stretched and wandered towards the door. He walked directly past the two neatly folded shirts at the foot of his bed, then reached for his towel, confused that it didn’t seem to be where he’d left it. He scratched the back of his neck, opened the door and left. Arun stared after him. Maybe he hadn’t woken up properly yet. Fair enough.

Brad returned fifteen minutes later with damp hair and a toothbrush hanging from the corner of his mouth. He tossed the damp towel haphazardly over his chair, and Arun’s nose crinkled. Brad pulled on a shirt, opened one of his drawers and took out a pair of shorts. He did not appear to notice that Arun had closed the drawer properly earlier. Then he crossed to his desk. That was too much to ignore, apparently.

“Uhh, what happened here?” Brad asked, in a tone that immediately let Arun know that he certainly did not appreciate his efforts. “Did you touch my shit?”

“I tidied the room this morning. It was messy,” Arun replied.

“Yeah, don’t ever do that. How would you like it if I moved all your stuff around?”

That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t the same thing. Arun created order, and Brad destroyed it. They weren't comparable. But Brad probably didn’t want to hear that right now.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”

Brad turned around, looking grumpy. “Thanks.” After a pause, he added, “You’re a weird kid and I’m cool with that, but I can’t live with Sheldon Cooper. This isn’t okay.”

Ouch. Is that what Brad thought of him? Like he was that horrible roommate from the Big Bang Theory?

“I thought…” Arun’s eyes flicked down. “I didn’t think.”

“I hate this, you know?” Brad flicked the coin stack with the back of his hand and sent his wallet spinning. “Everything being all perfect gives me the creeps.”

Arun stared at the scattered coins. “It gives you the creeps?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Brad shrugged, still irritated. “I dunno. Looks like nobody lives here.”

Arun looked around the room. That was exactly what he liked about it.

“But now you know where everything is.”

“I knew where everything was already, and now I don’t.”

“Okay.” Arun swallowed. “I really am sorry.”

Brad sighed, some of the edge leaving him. “Yeah. I know. We’re good.”

He kicked one of his shoes back underneath the desk. Arun watched it disappear. He said nothing. Like he was the one with the issue, and not the guy who chose to live like this. Whatever. He wouldn’t do this again - not if it made Brad uncomfortable. Not if it made Kale uncomfortable. He was going to be thoughtful and not weird.

Arun had trouble focusing in his classes today. The girl who often sat to his left, Lucy, asked him if he was okay. He’d shrugged and noted that he was at or near expectations, and she seemed to like that.

His mind kept replaying the night with Kale, and how he’d managed to make a good thing awkward. Then the dream, where somehow he’d annoyed the jocks at school again. He’d never understood what he did to bother them, or why they couldn’t just leave him alone. Then today, it was Brad who was upset with him. He was the only common denominator.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

But Kale would be at the library tonight. He always was. That was one of the best parts about Kale - and also the library. He always looked the same, smelled the same, laughed the same. Studying medicine. No wonder he was so busy all the time. He’d be one desk over, nice and quiet and pretty, and just nice to be around. Somehow, the day was enhanced by having him there.

“There’s always tomorrow.”

That’s what he said. He said it every day. Arun caught himself smiling thinking about it.

“Hey, Win. Sorry I was in such a mood this morning,” Brad apologised to him when the two made it back to their room following their classes.

“Oh.” Arun tried not to look at the mess he’d already made, as the speakers reminded him that Gwen Stefani was - allegedly - no Hollaback Girl. “You don’t need to apologise. I shouldn’t touch your things.”

Brad called him Win. That was good.

“Yeah, well, I'm still sorry, especially for saying that thing about Sheldon Cooper. And I shouldn’t be making a racket in our room either. I know it gives you the shits,” Brad admitted, turning his song down. “It’s your room too.”

"Thank you." Arun looked over. “I didn’t ask you to turn it down.”

“Yeah, but you make that face.”

“What face?”

Brad copied the tight-lipped stare Arun apparently gave him whenever the room got too loud.

Arun gasped. “I don’t look like that.”

“That’s exactly what you look like, you weirdo.”

Arun giggled. “Whatever, you slob.”

As he prepared to return to the library, Arun dressed differently. He kept the oversized pants, but wore a button-up shirt and black Converse that felt more restrictive than what he was used to.

“I didn’t know you owned a pair of socks,” Brad teased.

Arun glared at him and said nothing. The socks bunched unpleasantly around his toes inside the Converse, but he resisted the urge to adjust them. He was being normal today, and normal people weren’t barefoot in the library. Brad should mind his own business.

Arun’s phone buzzed as he crossed the courtyard, and he answered when he saw May video calling him.

“Hey, gayface!”

Arun winced a little but grinned. His sister’s wide beam and loud voice turned some heads around him.

“Hi, A-cup!” he sang back to her.

He wouldn’t let anyone else call him gayface, and she wouldn’t tolerate anyone else calling her A-cup. He remembered the argument years ago. She’d called him “gayface,” and he’d snapped back with “A-cup.” It was so absurd that they both started laughing and forgot what they’d been mad about in the first place.

The rest of their conversation was largely in Thai. Arun preferred it this way, in case of eavesdroppers. It also felt more like home.

“How’s big boy school, Win Win?”

“Big boy school is…” Arun paused. Which word applied right now? There was a lot to get used to. “I haven’t decided yet. But it’s way better than Warri High. How’s being a lazy bitch, May May?”

May scoffed, tucking her chin down until she looked ridiculous, making him laugh. “I bet I worked more in the last week than you did. Your roots look shit, by the way.”

“Well, you chose to stay in Warrinong rather than come to Uni with me, so now I have to find someone who does them right,” he accused her, tilting his head forward to make his monolid eyes look big and threatening. She laughed.

“Is that why you look so mad? Someone kick a puppy? Or is our birthday cancelled?”

Arun slowed down. How did she know? “I made things weird with my roommate. And with this guy I study with at the library.”

May’s eyes came comically close to the screen. “Wait. Roommate weird or cute-boy weird?”

“I don’t know what the difference is,” Arun admitted. “They’re both technically cute boys, but one is a super straight roommate and the other is some rando I study with.”

May wanted details, of course.

Arun did his best to explain. “The first night he was already there. I sat near him because he was quiet.”

“Romantic.”

“Tch, you know it’s not. Then the next night he found me on another floor and sat with me again.”

May’s eyebrows wiggled. “He found you?”

“Not like that. We were both studying.”

“Sure.”

“Then yesterday I got there early, and he got there early too. We introduced ourselves.”

“Kale. Like the vegetable.”

“Kah-leh. Not like the vegetable,” he corrected her irritably. She knew that.

“Cute name.”

“It’s Hawaiian.”

“And you remembered it.”

Arun frowned at her. “I always remember names.”

He explained how Kale sometimes changed chairs so they were facing each other, how he always seemed happy when Arun arrived, and finally how Arun had saved him a seat and drawn him without really meaning to. May stared at him.

“What?”

“I'm just thinking he probably isn't there for the feng shui.”

“That's not our thing,” Arun brushed her off.

May remained unconvinced until Arun reached the library and ended the call, promising he’d phone again soon with all the juicy - or juiceless - details.

“Just don't decide he hates you before he actually does something that proves it!” She’d warned him before they digitally kissed each other goodbye.

His table was free. That was a great start. So was Kale’s. Even better. It took his mind off the shirt bunching in his armpits and the seams of his socks. He set up his bag and began to nest. At least, as much as he could do without looking like a freak. Laptop centred. Drawing tablet hooked up next to it. Water bottle a little askew, but still close by. He reached for his visual communication textbook and paused. He’d put it on the neighbouring desk yesterday. Building a little barricade around Kale’s spot like an idiot. Not this time.

He crossed his legs, noting that he wasn’t comfortable. He undid one of his shirt buttons to open it up and loosened the laces on his shoes, which helped a bit. He loaded up a commission of some anime character he’d never heard of in shibari and exhaled. He wanted to finish this one and be done with it, but he had trouble focusing. He straightened his bottle after all, but he couldn’t help watching the stairway and listening for chains and heavy boots.

Half an hour went by, and Kale still wasn’t there. Why not? He said there was always tomorrow. Why would he say that if he didn’t mean it? Couldn’t he just be honest and tell Arun he didn’t want to study together anymore?

Noise filled the room - the type that made his toes clench and his jaw tighten, that made him feel too hot and his shoes too tight. His books and his bag were nearly aligned already, but he arranged them again. Still noisy. He looked down at the wooden grain near his drawing pad, his eyes fixating on the pattern. Nine little brown dots of varying sizes, almost in an S shape. The longer he stared, the more they seemed to arrange themselves, expanding or shrinking and fitting in a three-by-three box. He nodded his head slightly, pleased they were behaving and deciding that was the best way to remember them, and the noise retreated somewhat.

He switched to his icon assignment instead. Eight symbols for a fictional campus navigation app, all built inside the same twenty-four-pixel grid. Stairs, lift, toilets, food, study, information, first aid and exits. Usually this was exactly the sort of work he liked. Tonight, he adjusted the lift icon three times and still couldn't remember what he'd changed.

Someone approached. Arun had never seen her before, but she pulled out Kale’s chair and his nostrils flared. He knew she wasn’t doing anything wrong, but what a bitch! She opened up a laptop, inserted some earbuds and began doing whatever it was she was doing, and she was quiet and considerate. Somehow, that irritated him more than if she’d had terrible library etiquette. She wasn’t the right person. Because the right person wasn’t here. Because Arun had been too comfortable and weird yesterday and ruined a good thing.

When he looked at the clock again, Kale was over an hour late now. The longer Arun waited, the more foolish he felt. He looked at the dots on the wood again, but he couldn’t find the pattern. They were wrong, and ugly, and in the wrong place. He was acutely aware of how much he didn’t want to be there, wearing this shit, making a fool of himself. He packed his things away, wiped some tears from his eyes with his forearm, and walked briskly down the stairs and back to his room.

The first thing he did was take off his shirt, shoes and socks. Maybe there wasn't anything he could do about being weird.

At least he could be comfortable.