Chapter Text
The tiny clock in the bottom right corner of her laptop reads 3:13 PM. Seren could swear it’s been 3:13 PM for the last five minutes. Through her earbuds, she can hear Zayne sigh.
“You’re not listening, are you?”
Zayne has been kind enough to offer to tutor Seren during his breaks at the teaching hospital. He’s taking small bites at an egg salad sandwich as he tries to explain genetic transcription to her once again. The concept is completely lost on her. Biology was never her strong suit. She was just 2% away from flunking Bio I last year. Three days a week, from 2:30-3:30, they call like this (on Microsoft Teams, because someone refuses to download Discord). Zayne eats his pre-packaged hospital cafeteria lunch and helps Seren study for her Biology II class, which she already has a 74% in after just 3 weeks. It’s an improvement compared to her 61% that resulted from failing to read the syllabus and being unprepared for a first-week test.
“Huh?” Seren focuses back in on Zayne’s exasperated glare. “Yeah! Yeah, got it. The enzymes that are the poly… something…”
“Polymerases-”
“Yeah that- Connect to the nucleotides to make the full RNA strand,” she’s relieved she managed that much.
“And what is this stage of the process known as?” He’s got her there. She pauses for a little too long, confusion evident between her brows. “Trick question. It is the process. You just described transcription.” Her mouth flounders for a second, opening as if to say I knew that before closing once again. Before she can speak, Zayne cuts her off again. “That’s our time. I have patient status reports to write, so I’m going now-”
“Hang on.” Zayne pauses immediately at her command, his hand halfway to his phone already. “Do you have plans tonight?” For a brief moment, Seren swears she sees his eyes widen.
“Why do you ask?” There’s a trepidation in his voice. Very rarely does Seren ask about his plans unless she wants his company for something.
“Well…” There it is. “Simone is making me go with her to Caleb’s stupid frat party because she doesn’t want guys hitting on her and I know you haven’t seen Caleb in a while…” Her mind takes her back to the three of them- her, Caleb, and Zayne- at eight, nine, and eleven respectively, huddled in Zayne’s bed peering over a human anatomy book. Then it takes her to them, at fourteen, fifteen, and seventeen, stretched across the couch watching Spirited Away for the first time. Then she’s recalling Zayne’s college graduation party, Caleb’s stern voice echoing “Just because you’re going to medical school doesn’t mean you’re not obligated to attend movie night.”
“I can’t.” Zayne’s cold tone snaps her back to reality a little too fast, and she gets sentimental layering the images of nineteen and twenty-four year old Zaynes on top of each other. He looks just as tired now.
“Noooo,” Seren groans, laying her head dramatically on her desk, “Can I at least call you if something goes down?” She’s not exactly sure what ‘something’ could entail, but she knows she said something right when Zayne sighs in resignation.
“Yes. Always…” He tails off for a silent moment, staring at the crown of Seren’s head through his phone screen, before seeing the time in the top right corner switch from 3:27 PM to 3:28. “Alright, I really do have to go now. Have fun at your party.”
“I will not.” All Seren hears is a light chuckle before the tone indicating he’s ended the call rings out. She begins shoving her things back into her computer bag. She’s got a lecture in 30 minutes on the other side of campus and while she normally wouldn’t mind being a few minutes tardy, she knows Tara and Simone are both waiting on her.
-
This was not Seren’s idea, but she’s not exactly displeased at the outcome. There’s a visiting lecturer doing a two-week speed course of Impressionist Art Analysis. The catch? The professor is young (maybe two years older than Seren? Maximum.) and he’s pretty. Simone said something about him being an up-and-coming painter- that he’s “Burst into the art scene out of nowhere,” which must be how he got the position. To Seren, though, signing up for this crash-course was just a free chance to ogle at a beautiful man ranting about something she has no interest in. Her favorite past-time.
She’s sitting on the left side of the lecture hall, towards the middle, close to the door, but not too close. Tara is to her right and Simone is just past her. Seren has her phone in her lap, trying to hide her smile at the incoming texts from her boyfriend.
Sylus was an enigmatic man when Seren had met him. An air of mysteriousness and a witty tone is something she simply cannot resist. However, Sylus was also a responsible man when Seren had met him. He had approached her with the intention of getting this twenty-year-old out of his club. She could flirt her way past the bouncers with no trouble, but Sylus was firm. And, oh, how she loves a challenge. He stood courteously with her under the awning outside (it was raining) while she waited for her ride to come get her. At the end of their fifteen minutes of only slightly buzzed conversion, Seren had to roll up on to her tip-toes to press a gentle kiss on his cheek and she shoved a napkin into his hand. She chimed “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re a good man, Sylus!” as she pranced off to the uber that had pulled up to the curb. Sylus stood quietly with his hand on his cheek for a moment before looking down to find her phone number scribbled with a clearly low-on-ink pen on the napkin. The rest is history.
Now, though, she’s frantically texting him about this five-ten, violet-haired, melodic-voiced pretty boy who’s just started flipping through a power-point of Berthe Morisot’s greatest works. It was decided quite early on that they’d keep their relationship open. Sylus is very convincing when he croons “Love is to be given, not hoarded- and I get more than my fill of yours.” The best perk of this arrangement is how they share their fancy-of-the-weeks with one another. Seren deeply enjoys listening to Sylus paint a beautiful picture of a person in her mind and Sylus is greatly entertained by Seren’s rabid proclamations of “Oh, the things I would do to them.”
The pretty boy- Professor Mo- has gone quiet. Tara jostles Seren's shoulder gently with her own. Seren realizes a little too late that the professor is staring straight at her and the tips of her ears go red in two seconds flat.
“Miss, what’s your name?”
“Serenity, sir.” Professor Mo closes his eyes for a fraction of a moment- not a pause, but not a blink, either..
“Serenity, if you had to guess, what major life event took place to inspire Renoir to paint his famous piece La Balançoire?” His voice is steady and sweet like the flow of creamer into a dark cup of coffee. Seren looks like an ashamed puppy after chewing up a roll of toilet paper.
“Oh… uhm,” she’s racking her brain for a bullshit answer that might sound intelligent, but she completely blanks. What era was impressionism even a thing? How is she supposed to know about his personal life?
“Maybe your friend can help you,” the professor gestures to Simone who is staring incredulously at the side of Seren’s face. She quickly whips to face the speaker.
“Simone, sir! That was the year he met Paul Bérard, right?”
“Correct. Good work.” His gaze briefly flicks back to Seren, who has sunken back into her chair in relief that she had been saved. The rest of the following twenty minutes before the lecture ends she’s careful to keep her eyes trained on Professor Mo to avoid another call to attention, which isn’t an awful punishment.
-
At this point, Seren’s classes for the day have concluded and she’s relieved to have just enough free time to shower, eat, and do a little extra cramming for her upcoming Statistics test. A strange mix of excitement and dread fills her when her phone screen lights up with a text from Simone. “Pregame starts at 9:00. Ur still coming riiiiiight?”
She huffs out her hesitation and shoots back “Only for u <3” before dropping her phone face-down on the bed. Checking the digital clock on her nightstand, it’s just before 8:00 and Tara hasn’t gotten back from her study group yet. Begrudgingly, she shrugs off her loungewear and fishes some jean shorts from the bottom of the drawer. She decides without much thought that touching up her day makeup is more than enough for a frat party with a bunch of obnoxious, way too drunk, people present.
Though, her selection of a top is very purposeful. It takes some digging, but she finds the old white and purple basketball jersey stuffed underneath a plethora of worn out t-shirts. “XIA” is scrawled across the back of the shoulders in an aggressive font and “22” (Seren’s birthday) spans the rest of the back. It’s oversized, for sure, but nothing a little french tuck can't fix. The eyesore is worth wearing for the look she knows she’ll pull from Caleb upon seeing his old jersey. When she looks in the mirror, it’s not half bad. The jersey is boxy on her, which she thinks might be ideal when surrounded by stumbling frat bros. Purple isn’t her color, but the white makes her skin glow like honey. Her hair gets thrown into a half-up ponytail. Part of her misses when it was long enough to pull it all into a scrunchie at the back of her head, but this will do. The bob suits her, anyhow. Nearly tripping as she attempts to slip on her New Balances without untying them has her huffing as she forfeits and sits on the floor.
-
The walk down to the Greek System is refreshing. The sun has already set and the heat of late summer eases into a cool, dewy evening. Even with her earbuds in, downing out her surroundings with a slow-paced indie song about melancholy nostalgia, she can hear the bass bumping from the end of the sidewalk. She hates ending songs early, so she slows her pace just enough to get through the repetitive last chorus. It fills her with a strange sense of calm, which is exactly what she needs to push her way past her own self-doubt and bridge the space between her and the doors of Sigma Chi.
It’s already loud. So loud. And it's only 9:24 PM. The frat isn’t anything fancy. This isn’t any kind of ivy-league school. For the most part, it looks a lot like a normal house on the inside. She’s greeted by a large living space with two couches and a giant bean bag surrounding a coffee table that is covered in cans and red solo cups and bowls of chips. To the left there’s a half-wall that lets her peek into the kitchen where a group of girls is mixing up some mystery punch that Seren is not touching. To the right is a staircase up to the bedrooms and “study space” that has giant speakers blasting some song she faintly recognizes from riding in Simones car, or maybe from Sylus’s club. Seren is scanning the room to find anyone she knows and spots a ball of silver hair hanging over the back of the couch in the center of the room.
“Xavier!” she calls out. Xavier is an astrophysics major who she met in a physics study group. He’s a sweet boy. Very soft spoken. Right now, with his head lolling to the side and his arms stretched across the whole couch, he looks like a very different man. Seren can only see the back of him, but when she calls his name he perks right up before leaning upside down over the back of the couch to see her. There’s a moment of surprise that’s replaced with a gentle smile. Ah, there’s the Xavier from her study group.
“Serenity! Hi!” They’re not really on a nickname basis, yet. His eyes are a little red and his voice is coming from deeper in his chest than usual. He must have pregamed in his own way. It makes Seren hold back a small chuckle at the way his eyelids hang down a bit heavier.
“What are you doing here?” Seren inquires playfully, walking up behind the couch to see his upside-down features a little clearer.
That gentle smile turns mirthful as he says “I live here?” It confuses Seren for a second before she puts the pieces together.
“Wait, you’re a member?” Xavier lets his eyes close and hums, nodding. Seren has a strong urge to pinch his cheeks, but refrains. This means Xavier must know Caleb. A new connection for Tara and Seren’s ‘Friend Board’ that they have hanging up in their dorm. They make a hobby out of tracking who knows who and who knows who.
“You here for someone?” Xavier peeks open an eye, curious. Seren is suddenly reminded of why she’s even here.
“Yeah- Simone made me come. Have you seen her?” She’s scanning the room again, more comfortably this time with Xavier to keep her company. There’s some familiar faces, but no Simone or Caleb to be seen. Xavier shakes his head and his hair sways across his forehead.
Seren lets out a sudden yelp as she’s grabbed from behind by a pair of arms way too strong to be Simone. Her first instinct is to kick her assaulter, before she hears an overjoyed “Pipsqueak!!” in an all-too-familiar voice. So instead of kicking, she starts laughing and playfully punching at his arms.
“Caleb, put me down! Now!”
“Nope, not done yet!” He squeezes her tightly against his chest and swings side-to-side, He smells like hard cider. After one more squeeze for good measure, he sets Seren down. “I didn’t know you were coming?” Caleb states it as if it were a question. Finally back on her feet, she whips around to find a dazzling grin and a raised eyebrow interrogating her. Seren pauses for a moment just to take in the stunning image of it all.
“Simone didn’t tell you?” She cocks her head playfully, trying her best to seem innocent, but Caleb doesn’t buy it for a second. His eyes land on the jersey and his grin gains a twinge of sentimentality. That’s the look that makes it worth it.
“You’re in my jersey,” he states obviously. Xavier makes a choked sound from behind Seren, and she turns to find him eyeing the two of them with an inquisitive and excited smile. “Oh, Ren! Have you met Xavier?” Turning back to Caleb, she catches him lingering his gaze on Xavier in a way she recognizes. Seren knows that look. She’s seen that look on Caleb before. When you grow up alongside someone like Serenity and Caleb have, there's no hiding the tiny nuances in body language or the smallest shifts in gaze. It takes her less than a second to catch on. She’s elated.
“In fact, I have. Xavier and I are in a study group together,” Seren replies, giving Caleb a knowing side-eye. He blushes without words. Xavier pipes up next:
“I didn’t realize this is the ‘Ren’ you talk about all the time, Caleb,” and Caleb blushes harder. His neck turns red.
“Drinks! Who wants drinks?” He diverts, turning on his heel. Seren laughs openly at his back as he strides proudly towards the kitchen. As she watches him walk off, a figure in the doorway catches her attention. He’s stepped to the side so he’s not in the way, his eyes trained firmly on his phone with his other hand in the pocket of his slacks. He pushes his glasses up his nose and locks eyes with Seren.
“Zayne!”