Roar of the o c e a n

As soon as Nix crawls into bed, Cecil joins him, arms wrapping around his middle instantly and anchoring himself to someone else. Nix doesn’t give off warmth like other people seem to, he’s noticed that. It’s weird, he thinks he’s got a circulation problem. As if to check, he presses his ear against his chest, listens to the slow thump of his heart. Nothing out of the ordinary there, at least. Like a baby animal, he clings and moves impossibly closer as he feels fingers threading through his long hair.

If he were a cat, he’s sure he would be purring.

Closing his eyes, he relaxes into the sensation of someone stroking his locks, of a gentle brush of lips against his forehead. Nobody has ever been this soft with him his whole life. Maybe a mother, when he was a babe but, that time is long past. He doesn’t remember her, and he doubts she does him. Does she know she left her only son with a monster? Does she care? Cecil tries not to dwell on it, grounding himself in Nix. His smell, how his muscle moves under his skin as he stretches and turns, the rhythmic thump of his strong heart.

Cecil falls asleep to that noise.

/ / / / / 

Cecil dreams of him, and Nix. It’s nothing too intimate, thank god, just them on a warm summers day in a meadow. Laid in the grass, holding each other, scared to let go. He knows it’s fear that’s keeping them there. But, of what? It starts to rain, and he swears he sees the other’s eyes turn lilac before he -

Wakes up.

Eyes open, Cecil blinks. This isn’t his bed, no it’s - Nix’s. Who’s still asleep above him, and he’s so close he can count his eyelashes. He can even see soft freckles that dance on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. It’s not sunny yet, so they haven’t properly come out.

Oh god. He’s here, with Nix. Gorgeous Nix, tempestuous Nix who has only ever protected him or fought with him. They’re like an old married couple in many respects but - here. In his bed? It’s frightening. Nix would never…with him, anyways. Cecil was drunk this - he was being nice. He feels pathetic, and the emotion wells in his chest and his eyes.

Slowly, he climbs out of the bed.

Nix is a light sleeper, always has been. He blames it on the fact that he’s half human, if he was like his mother he probably wouldn’t need to sleep it all. Sometimes he wonders if he could ask her for a spell, to get rid of the human part of himself. He wonders if he’d sprout fins or some shit, shark teeth, something darker than the ocean if she played with that type of magic. 

But she merely smiles and cups his cheeks and, as much as she despises humans like his father was, she tells him he needs that part of himself and that he’ll learn one day why. 

Why? 

Sometimes he feels like drowning that part of himself in blood, in enjoying the feeling of killing other humans, in living in how using his powers make him feel.

Other times...

like when he catches Cecil reading in the sun, his glasses sliding down his nose, or when he catches him singing in the kitchen while he makes tea...when he they kissed. 

Not so much. 

Nix knows that he can’t allow himself to be like this. He just can’t. 

He moves a little when he feels Cecil stir and lets out a soft breath before turning on his side, facing the warmth of Cecil’s body and presses his face into it a moment, breathing in fresia and something distinctly Cecil’s skin. 

And then he realizes, almost with a laugh, that his roommate is pulling a him. He’s trying to sneak out of bed early and leave him to wake up alone. My, my, how the tables have turned. 

“Sneaking away isn’t nice.” Nix says, eyes still closed, voice rough from sleep. He them opens them and fixes them on Cecil. “Is it because I didn’t wake up early enough to make you breakfast?” He teases. 

Nix pulls him up and into his side and Cecil has to admit, it’s the comfiest he’s ever been. Everything is in an alcohol-induced, lovely haze but, the warm feeling curling up in his chest is real. Being held, even like this, is something special to him. Cecil feels wanted, and it’s a new sensation that’s never occurred before. As they walk out, someone calls him a guppy. Aren’t those baby fish? What does that have to do with him?

“Not a guppy,“ He remarks as they stumble back to their shared dorm. The whole way back he keeps tucked up to Nix, trying not too stumble over or step on his toes. It takes a lot more concentration than he can give right now. It only gets worse when they come to the stairs and he finds himself gripping his roommate and the balustrade at the same time out of fear of falling.

He’s shuffled into the bedroom and his heart jumps awkwardly in fear, or maybe in anticipation, of sex. Cecil doesn’t know if he wants it, laid in an unfamiliar bed with someone taking off his shoes. “No…No,” He slurs out, smacking away Nix’s hands when they begin to work at his sweater. “No. Sex, no!”

The other looks as confused as Cecil feels. Ah, those weren’t his intentions. He still manages to wriggle his own sweater off and shirt after, leaving him in trousers. God, is he glad he didn’t wear his lacey bra or high-waist underwear. That would be embarrassing. “Sorry,” he slurs out and lays back down, moving into the comforter on the bed. Nix called him warm - when was that? Now or at the party, it’s all muddled.

“Pfft. You’re cold. Ice queen,“ He sticks his tongue out playfully and laughs loudly after before calming and moving to the far edge of the bed. “Climb in? I always feel so safe when you’re near me,”

Nix goes to take Cecil’s sweater off because, even for a human, he feels incredibly overheated. It’s the combination of smoking and the alcohol but Cecil bats his hands away regardless. His hands snapback, mostly in surprise, not because this little peanut is hurting him. 

He raises an eyebrow thought and bites his tongue on saying something insulting because...he knows how Cecil is. One wrong comment and he’ll crack like an egg; this probably applies extra carefully if he’s intoxicated. But really? Cecil thinks he’d...do something like that? 

Nix knows how to take advantage of a situation, but he wouldn’t sleep with someone drunk. Not unless he was drunk as well and both we were willing for a good time. Not like this. 

Not to Cecil. 

Instead, he says, “I wouldn’t,” He shushes him. “Stop squirming, you’re going to fall off the bed.” 

He moves to take off his own shoes, undoing his jeans and tossing them aside. He’s left in just a simple black tee and boxers and Cecil at least wants him to join. Nix has no problem with that...he thinks that’s what he was going to do anyways. 

Cecil has not the first one to notice that he’s very cold all the time...not quite the sensation of the corpse but not warm either. Much like the darkness of the sea, the cool feeling of sand between one’s toes if you dig them into the underbed. Just like that. Sea water rushing over your legs. 

He doesn’t retain heat, but never feels cold. But right now, that seems to be exactly what Cecil wants. 

Nix crawls into bed and waits for Cecil to join him, pulling the covers up and gently winding a few fingers through his hair. Drunk Cecil allows him to touch his hair, to massage his scalp, to take his braids out. 

“There we are.” He whispers, brushing his lips over his forehead. 

He pushes back the urgency to pull away at Cecil’s comment about making him feel safe. The words somehow wrap around his ribcage and tug violently. But it’s something to worry about tomorrow when Cecil will deny any of this happened in the morning. 

Nix kisses back. Leads him to, coaxes him out of his shell and makes him feel like all his nerve endings are on fire. Synapses are firing in his brain and his lungs are burning though he realises that’s from lack of air. That’s okay though - Cecil could stop breathing and he would’ve died in the best way possible.

He’s pressed against him too, bodies melded together and Cecil’s fingers are still playing with the baby hairs at the back of Nix’s head. He smells of salty sea spray, tastes of sea salt ice cream. It’s fresh and addicting, Cecil can’t get enough of it. “I’ve thought about it,” The smaller replies with a bright smile on his face. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,”

That’s the honest truth. Cecil has never been this close to a boy in his whole life and Nix makes his heart jump sometimes, especially when he looks at him. Cecil leans in again to kiss Nix a few more times, just quick little pecks and after he presses his face into his neck and giggles against the skin. Cecil feels giddy, a combination of alcohol and this schoolboy crush.

“Take me home? Us - let’s go back to the dorm, please? Nothing else here for us,“ And he traces a finger across the other’s knuckles. Nix is so pale and cool, sometimes Cecil can’t understand how he’s alive. Sometimes it’s like touching a corpse but…he likes it. He likes it a lot.

“Please,“

Nix feels something cold slip down his spine at Cecil’s adorable and oh so innocent admission: I’ve never kissed anyone before. He swallows thickly, his hackles going up and at the same time he’s never felt so confused like this. He doesn’t usually mind, taking advantage of that, claiming something for his own. 

He does really like being first, in any version of the word. 

But there’s something about Cecil...so human, so breakable, so gentle...he can’t approach this how he usually would. He’s come to appreciate Cecil, like him even, for a human he’s not the worst person he’s known. 

Nix has taken apart princes, warlocks, demons, other sea entities like himself...

and no one has held his interest quite like Cecil. 

Maybe because everything is so quick for him, so new and instantaneous--as fast as it comes it’s gone in a second. While Nix is part human, something he has trouble admitting sometimes, he heals with a drop of the ocean and ages much slower than Cecil. 

They’re the same, and yet, they’ve got nothing in common. 

He kisses him because Cecil lets him and nods his head at going home, carefully hauls him up and holds him against his side as they go back into the house and down the steps. 

“Caught yourself a guppy, huh Nix?” A one-night stand asks him. Jealous, clearly.  

Nix clicks his tongue over the roof of his mouth and the guy’s beer grows a mind of its own and leaps out of the bottle to drench the front of his shirt. He smirks, “Tah.” and waves at him as they leave. 

It doesn’t take long to get home but it takes twice as long to get Cecil inside and to Nix’s bedroom...as drunk as Cecil is, he really doesn’t want to fool around with his OCD telling Nix he can’t take his shoe off on the right side of the bed or some shit. 

He lays Cecil down and takes off his shoes, going for Cecil’s sweater. “Let’s get this off hmm, you’re awfully warm.” 

Stay. So he does but, doesn’t get chance to sit down because of Nix taking his wrist and tugging him just enough to lose his balance and end up tumbling into his lap. Cecil has never been this close to anyone in his life and his face heats up red with embarrassment. Luckily, it was like that anyways from the alcohol and he hopes Nix can’t tell one from the other.

They’re face to face, inches away, so much so that Cecil can feel every word the other is saying. Their breath mingles in the middle and he knows what Nix means. That they could be making out on this roof, right now. There are knots in his stomach at the thought of it, both excited and nervous. 

Cecil is staring again. He can’t help it, it’s what Nix does to him. His eyes flicker to his lips, back to his eyes, back to his lips and he notices the other doing the same. It’s a waiting game, who’s going to break first and give in. Cecil wonders what it’ll mean if he does. Will they change? Cecil doesn’t think so. Nix gets with plenty of guys and girls and still treats them coldly or with mild indifference after.

The shorter is overthinking this, the window of opportunity is closing. Before long, the silence will have stretched too far and they’ll let go. Cecil decides to take a chance, he can always blame it on the alcohol if he decides to chicken out in the morning.

“I think I know what you mean,“ he says with the barest hint of a smile on his face before leaning in and giving Nix a gentle kiss.

So Cecil is as smart as he looks, as smart as he pretends that he actually wants to be a lawyer and not some sort of sexy librarian. He gets his inference and, even better, he goes for it. 

Well, well, just when Nix thought Cecil was incapable of surprising him, he makes the first move. He thought for sure he’d have to drag him into this kicking and screaming. To get him to acknowledge that it’s okay to want to kiss. 

They’ve been dancing around this for months, it’s about time. Nix was about to combust from all the sexual tension...

and whatever else was lingering, right on the edges of his ribcage...something he refused to see or give a name to. 

Instead he settles into what he knows best and lets Cecil give a soft kiss before he takes control. He cups the other’s face and angles it down to get a better kiss and commands attention with his lips. He leans into it while his other arm wraps around Cecil’s waist and pulls him flush against his body. 

A soft noise leaves his lips, Cecil smells of books and dried flowers, incredibly intoxicating and arousing. But Nix will play a slow game...though he’s not sure why, he’s never worried about that sort of thing before. 

They pull back for a moment to breathe, Cecil panting needily against his lips. He smirks and presses on his lower lip with his thumb.

Cecil blinks a few times in an exaggerated manner as if realising what he’s said. Shit, so he totally did say that out loud. That was something private, meant to be hidden away until the day he died. Or did it? Nix was handsome, very much so. His wide mouth and stormy, dark eyes that Cecil had noticed softened sometimes when they spoke or joked. Like now for instance. Maybe it was because they were on good terms, and Nix never seemed to be on good terms with anyone. Not even the people he fucked.

After living with him for a while, he’d began to want to touch him. Right now, Cecil wants to feel the heat of his skin on the back of his hand and trace the curve of his jawline and fit his thumb into the cupids bow of his lips. The alcohol is making his thoughts stupid and mushy and he realises he’s been staring at Nix for a good few minutes with no answer. What if he just takes the piss? Cecil shakes his head and physically moves away from Nix, trying not to fall off the rood in the process.

“No! No nothing just…looks good. You have a good looking face. Bet you get that all the time though, yeah?“ The smaller tries to downplay his thoughts with a wave of his hand and a hiccup. 

Embarrassment is mixing with intoxication. “Well, I’d better be going back inside. Need another drink,” To make the shame fade quickly. Cecil knows Nix would never - not with him. Not that he wants that, per say, but sometimes they get close. Nobody has ever been close to him, or held him, or protected him and it makes Cecil feel gooey inside. Giddy, almost.

“See you later?“

The question lingers. If Nix tells him to stay, he will in a heartbeat.

Clearly not enough alcohol though because Cecil’s eyes go comically wide and he nearly scurries right off the roof to put space between them. Nix makes a little noise of protest and reaches for him, his stomach doing an odd swooping at the idea of Cecil tumbling to his certain death. 

“Right, well, as much as I’ve noticed that people enjoy my face, I don’t want it to cause you to jump off the roof.” He laughs gently and tugs, just so Cecil is seated more comfortably away from the edge. 

When he feels like he won’t roll into the darkness Nix lets go, let’s Cecil have space if he so chooses. He’ll be back, it’s only a matter of time--they’re like magnets. 

And sooner or later, they’re gonna touch. Possibly slam into each other as magnets often do if pressed close enough. 

Cecil is incredibly easy to read, boring almost, making a show of getting up and going inside so Nix will ask him to stay. And while if it was any other human on this roof---Nix might let him go, he’d be ready to find someone else to spend his time with. Cecil, while pretty, is easy for him to read and not exciting in that way. 

And yet...

And yet something pulls Nix in like a whirl pool. “Stay.” It’s not an offer, nor a question, its a soft command. With that he hooks a hand around Cecil’s wrist and pulls until he ends up seated on his lap. 

Nix smiles up at him; Cecil slightly elevated from his position. “It’s much more interesting out here. You don’t need a drink, I have something better you can do with your lips.” 

If Cecil pulls away, he’ll let him, but if he continues to sit there and stare at him with those big doe eyes and lickable lips then he’s going to kiss him. 

He feels a hand running up his back gently as he coughs and chokes on the smoke, even though after a few more puffs the feeling starts to mellow out a little and he feels less like his lungs are on fire. Nix says ‘Good boy’ though, and he starts to choke again, from shock. Not the shock of condescending appraisal though but, from the spike of arousal, it gives him.

No. No, the young man shakes his head to rid himself of those thoughts. Two things about those thoughts; one, he shouldn’t be thinking like that unless he wants to pop a boner and make this whole, slight budding friendship awkward between them. The second? They’ll never happen. Nix is a league above his awkward, OCD-riddled body. Cecil is just a bottom feeder, only allowed in his presence because they share a room,

“Wow, don’t cut yourself on that edge Nix,“ He chuckles in reply, happy to have the cigarette taken from him. He doesn’t have to pretend he likes it now. “Get one of those flavored ones everyone else has. They’ll still fuck up your lungs, but at least your clothes’ll smell better,“ Cecil teases him gently with a nudge. He finishes off the last of his vodka and coke, chucking it off the edge of the roof after. He feels a little woozy, probably from the cheap mix up of booze and sugary drink. 

Cecil lets his legs hang off the edge, looks at the grass. A part of him wants to just slip off, not in suicidal thought but, more in a what if sort of way. Like when he’s crossing the road, and the morbid thought of just walking into traffic to see what would happen.

He sighs, glances at Nix. Watches him for a while, not looking away when he’s noticed. The alcohol is kicking in. “Your face is…you know?”

Flavored cigarettes, honestly? Nix scrunches his nose in response. 

“If I ever start smoking something orange flavored, I just might jump off a roof like this one.” He laughs softly, cause fuck that. He’d rather just smoke what he’s used to--there’s no use hiding what he’s doing. 

There’s no concealing the fact that they’re fucking terrible; but it’s not like they’ll end up killing him. He doesn’t age like most people and he doesn’t get sick. They will, however, hurt Cecil...and humans like Cecil. Which is why he wasn’t kidding about it being a nasty habit. 

Once in a while, fine, but there’s a reason why he doesn’t smoke in their dorm room and that’s because second hand will cut Cecil’s life in half. 

Not that he’s given it much thought...really. 

He finishes the cig after a few more moments and stubs it out on the roof, tossing the butt aside before glancing at Cecil. Notices how those legs hang over the roof, almost enough that he could...jump or slide off if he really wanted to. He’d survive but he’d definitely break his damn legs. 

Nix licks his lips and goes to say something, but Cecil says something instead. His face? He smirks a little, shaking his head. Cecil’s voice is slow and careful, slurring a little on the ends. The wonders of alcohol finally taking the tiny boy into its grip. 

“My face, hmm?” He asks teasingly; though, of course he knows. Cecil is not the first person to find him attractive and he certainly won’t be the last. “What about it?” 

He wants to hear him say it. 

That’s - wow. The leather jacket isn’t much warmer on the inside, but it ignites a soft fire in his chest that makes him blush. Cecil feels like a girl after a date, yet neglects to complain. Instead, he settles into the material. It smells of smoke and a little salty, like ocean spray. It’s familiar though, and he pulls it closer around his shoulders. “Thankyou,” He says softly with a little smile.

Nix lights up and he stops himself from looking over at first. He knows what will happen if he does, he can’t get over Nix’s lips. Or his face - Cecil had no idea someone could be so attractive, and at the same time so accommodating of his quirks. Thankfully, the brief conversation between them distracts him, eyes glancing down at the party-goers he can see from up here. “Well, it’s - I always assumed - and don’t take this wrong - that you come to hook up. Or, I thought you were…yanno, well-liked, so you get invited,” Cecil offers up, hoping he’s not being out of line by offering his thoughts. “This is the first party I’ve ever been to and…it’ll probably be my last,” 

Everyone else in the book club can function like normal people. Cecil often feels like he can’t. If Eloise hooks up with a football player or someone matches someone shot for shot - they’ll get invited again. Cecil won’t come again.

Then he looks at Nix and wishes he hadn’t. Those lips hang expertly onto the end of the cigarette as he breathes in a lungful of smoke, then exhales through his nose. Long, piano fingers pick it out after to tip off the ash and he watches every subtle movement. In bed, at night, he’s imaged that mouth on him. Kissing his skin, singing his praises, fingers brushing back his hair and that voice whispering: “You’re so beautiful, Cece.” He’s cum, and cried, at the thought.

Of course, the other male notices, their eyes meet for a brief second and Cecil snaps his gaze back to the floor like he’s been burned. The cigarette is offered to him. He doesn’t smoke, never has, but anything to forget what’s just happened. “No, I haven’t,” He admits, taking a drag and then choking on smoke. Cecil doesn’t give it back though, just keeps taking drag after drag until his lungs get used to the burn, and his eyes stop watering.

“I’m not taking it the wrong way,” He assures him with a soft laugh. He’s not wrong. He does get invited to parties for that very reason. He’s well liked, he’s known for flirting and having sex and having a good fucking time--he’s a staple at parties. But sometimes it gets all...so boring for him. 

The fact that he could kill everyone in that room downstairs with one look. With one flick of his wrist...just...makes everyone seem so small to him, so vulnerable, so disgustingly human. 

Not that he’s known to go on power trips. But does Nix think he’s better than everyone down there? Absolutely. Fuck that. 

“Not your thing.” He muses, watches him carefully before handing him the cig. A soft smile travels over his lips before he licks his lower one. “I get it. Parties are very one sided. They kind of suck all the fucking time, even if you’re cream of the crop you know?” He chews on his lower lip, thoughtful. “Least we’re both at this one this time.” 

Not a total waste. He laughs softly when Cecil chokes on the smoke and bites his tongue on calling him something like ‘rookie’ or ‘virgin’--he doesn’t want to upset the boy beside him. And Nix knows he’s a little more sensitive than most, which is fine. He just has to watch his mouth which is often a loose cannon. 

He pats his back gently, his fingers dragging down his spine and watches him take drag after drag, getting used to the burn.

“There you go, take it easy.” He grins, then winks. “Good boy.” Those words seem to light a fire in Cecil’s eyes, he can see it happening before him like a wall crumbling. Likes being told praises, right, check. He’ll tuck that into his back pocket for later and takes the cig from him. 

“Not too bad, right? Always worst things to have in your mouth?” He grins around the cig, continues to take a few drags. “Anyways you really shouldn’t smoke, fucking nasty habit. I should really quit myself, but I find it helps me not kill really stupid people.” 

Nix is inviting him to the roof, however, Cecil can’t decide whether it’s because his company is genuinely wanted, or because he feels sorry for his friend-less roommate. Maybe a little from column a, a little from column b. They don’t really have much in common, and ever since Nix…saved his book, Cecil has felt weird around him. Breaking down like that in front of a stranger was never his intention but, sometimes it just happened. Cecil wasn’t on his medication anymore, and he had to demonstrate that he could be given a modicum of independence from his father.

That’s all his life was. Bargaining for freedom, and small liberties. 

It’s not like he’s doing anything else. Through a window, and he didn’t have to smoke either, just watch Nix do it. That might be the sexiest thing he’ll ever see, he’s seen Nix chew on pens when studying before, broad lips pursed around the end and the thoughts it inspired made Cecil blush. Screwing the cap back on his liter vodka-coke concoction he nods, hopping down from the countertop. “I’d like that, to come with you,” He admits with a little smile.

And thus they push through crowds of people, bodies pressed together. Cecil feels a boner at one point in his thigh and does his best to keep calm. He can’t help but look at the girls too, their skin-tight dresses and netting tops with flesh colored bras or no bras at all. Deeply, desperately, he wants to wear what they do. To be seen as Cecil who is comfortable in girls clothing. He makes a mental note the next time he goes shopping to look for something more…outlandish. Cecil’s sure there’s an underground club, he wouldn’t mind putting on make-up and going as a girl.

They make it to the room, ignoring the couple on the bed and climbing out of the window - Cecil needs a little help, but Nix pulls him up. “It’s fucking freezing up here,” He complains as they sit. “But, it’s quiet, and empty, so whatever,”

Nix smirks at people on the bed continue to have sex and groan, ignoring them completely as they head for the window. He pushes it up and climbs out, pulling Cecil up onto the roof and makes his way over to a small, flat spot where they won’t tumble onto the ground. Nix is sure, if he were to fall, he could pull water from the fountain nearby and save himself...but he’s not about to test that theory with his life. Or Cecil’s. 

He hums softly and nods at Cecil’s comment--it is quite cold, but he doesn’t notice, and slips his leather jacket off to settle around Cecil’s shoulders. Cold doesn’t really get to him, skin as icy as the depths of the ocean sometimes. 

He takes out a cigarette and lights it, easily cupping his hands so that the wind doesn’t extinguish the flame. He licks his lips and takes a soft, deep drag, letting the smoke out between his lips before glancing at Cecil. 

“I’ve come out here before during parties, they can get a little overwhelming sometimes. And fucking hot.” He leans back a little, clearing his throat. “Quiet and empty always seem like the better choice. I mean, I like parties, sure, but I really don’t know why I come half the time.” 

He brings his knees up and leans his arms against them, flicking ash off the cigarette, careful that the embers don’t float Cecil’s way with the breeze. 

“Guess it’s just something you do, right?” He laughs softly. 

Nix turns his head to look at Cecil, notices his gaze is nearly staring a hole into his mouth, the cigarette between his slender fingers. He raises an eyebrow, a soft smirk toying with the ends of his mouth. He’s noticed Cecil look at him before like that, check him out when he thinks he’s not paying attention. Chewing on pens, or straws, lips lingering on the rims of mugs or licking them after he eats something. 

He’s not oblivious and Cecil isn’t sneaky about it. 

“Want a drag?” Though that’s clearly not what he wants. He takes another hit, slow and careful, making a show of it. “You ever smoke before?”

The campus whore? He frowns a little at that, how Nix sounds when he says it. Someone’s obviously been talking too loud about him, maybe more than one and he reaches out just to brush the tips of his fingers against his shoulder for a few seconds. It’s supposed to be comforting but, he doesn’t think the gesture comes off that way. “You’re not a whore Nix,” He replies honestly. “You just like sex, and we go to a school far too immature to understand that,”

Cecil didn’t mind that Nix liked sex. Some people just did, some didn’t. Cecil…he did stuff, but it was particularly difficult for him to connect with guys on that level. His OCD often overwhelmed him, or he simply didn’t act on what he felt. Sometimes, he felt broken like that. Not once had he thought about just having sex randomly like Nix did. He couldn’t just…do that. A random hook up wasn’t in his ways.

He takes a drink of his vodka with some coke and coughs at how strong he made it. Whoops. Maybe he won’t go home sober after all. He shrugs. “I mean…my friends are…” he motions to the rest of the house. “I think I saw Eloise walk off with that huge dude from Gym, the guy who looks like a beast,” he chuckles. “Everybody else is…I don’t know. I came with them but they aren’t really…” bothered about me dies on his lip, and drinks again to fight off the bitter taste on the end of his tongue.

“I’m just not a party guy, I guess,” Cecil joked with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But, you can’t say I haven’t tried, hm? It’s nice to see you though. You uh - you don’t have to look after me. Go find someone you know yeah? I’ll probably end up going home after this,” He wiggles his half-full bottle of vodka and coke. A part of him doesn’t want Nix to pity his awkwardness, would rather be left alone.

The gentle touch on his shoulder jars him; mostly because he wasn’t expecting such a nice gesture but mostly because he doesn’t want Cecil’s pity. He doesn’t bristle though, just barely, and nods his head towards the words given to him. Cecil seems to read his mind often, just like that, and while he likes being understood--he does not like the way Cecil can just look at him and somehow peel him back like pages in a novel. 

So he’s here with friends, friends who have left him to fend for himself and probably won’t be back for him. He doesn’t tell Cecil that, though, because maybe he’s wrong. While Cecil isn’t someone Nix would usually go for--he’s got this...bookworm-ish adorable librarian look to him and he knows some people find that sexy. 

He could picture him in glasses and nothing else--so the fact that Cecil thinks he’ll be alone for long is ridiculous. 

“I’m not pitying you.” He says after a moment, because Cecil isn’t the only one who can read people. The words are plain as day on Cecil’s face, “I was going to go to the roof.” 

To smoke, because this party is quickly growing boring, he doesn’t feel like going home with anyone tonight and something is starting to itch under his skin. He needs a cig and to be around less people who annoy him or he might literally drown someone. 

“It’s quite a sight, you gotta climb through the bedroom window and sit just right on the roof but, it’s quiet. And it’s nice.” He smiles a little. “Good night for it.” He chews on his lower lip. “Wanna come?”

Nix tilts his head a little, watches him. 

The music is loud and Cecil doesn’t really know if he’s into it, but he’s good at pretending. A can locked in his fist as he sits on the side of the kitchen, tin dented under his hand. He takes a swig and makes a face, beer is disgusting but, there’s nothing else to drink. He didn’t bring wine because he didn’t want people to laugh at him. Eloise, the pretty, pale girl who runs the book club told him they would, and Cecil has very little knowledge of party ettique so he just bought a keg of strawberry beer.

This wasn’t his idea. Eloise suggested they all go to a house party to introduce themselves to others in their yeargroup, and ‘pull’ as it were. Cecil isn’t interested in pulling, but he hasn’t been out of his room in a few days and the idea sounded brilliant at the time.

Girls walk around in see-through t-shirts with bras on show, and in over sized plaid with thick eyeliner and guys dress similar. Cecil feels out of place in his sweater, knitted, and a part of him itches to ask someone if he can borrow their kohl stick or lipgloss. That’s the alcohol talk. Hopping down from his space, he puts the can in the black bag they’re all using and gets himself the bottle of vodka from the side and a bottle of coke.

And pours one into the other. Hopefully he can get drunk enough to feel okay, and then go drunkenly mingle.

Cecil? His name, he hears it over the music and looks up, locking eyes with…Nix. Who’s pouring straight whiskey while he pours coke into a vodka bottle, not the other way round. “Oh,” He didn’t expect his roommate to be here, but maybe he should’ve? Nix is known for being at these parties, he’s come home with people from them.

Not for a while though, not since the book incident. Cecil felt embarassed as soon as his mood and medication straightened him out, and dislikes talking about it. “Hi, Nix,” He greets, speaking a little louder over the music. “Having, uh, having a good time?”

He certainly didn’t expect Cecil to be here. This is not his scene. The cafe, the library, their dorm room? Most definitely somewhere the little bookworm would be. But here? Amidst idiots tripping over themselves and random people vomiting and dancing and grinding with stale beer and too loud music? This doesn’t seem like the place.

Someone must have invited him, or at least, that’s what Nix would do if he was interested in Cecil. And he is...and yet...

This is not the place he would suggest he come to. 

He shrugs and sips his whiskey, slow and steady before licking his lips. He barely hears Cecil over the music but he knows what he’s asking him. A soft sigh tumbles from his chest as his eyes wash over the other. 

Adorable sweater. Once again another reason why he shouldn’t be here. 

“Was passing through,” He admits, “But apparently as the campus whore I have to make an appearance for more than just an hour.” 

There’s something to his voice, an edge of bitterness perhaps or resentment. Usually Nix doesn’t care what people say because he does like sleeping around...but sometimes it drives under his skin that this campus acts like he’s the only one fucking multiple people. He wasn’t the only one having fun, but he refused to be quiet about it. 

He wasn’t about to hide who he was from anyone. Fuck that. Though, he hasn’t done much sleeping around lately. Not since Cecil and that book. 

Nix sighs and sips from his cup again. 

“Are you having fun?” He asks, even though he can probably guess the response. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, though it’s not an unwelcome surprise.” 

Nix takes him over to the couch, though Cecil suspects it’s to stop him falling over. He tries not to sink back into it, instead perching on the edge, hands balled together in his lap. He hasn’t said yes to getting back the infamous book but, this feels like something. The taller male takes his trembling hands and rubs his thumb over his knobbly knuckles, just watching him. Making sure he’s calmed down or - Cecil doesn’t know. Maybe he’s reading into things.

People in his classes have warned him about Nix, asked him if they’ve fucked yet. Some girls ask him how he can live with such a cold-hearted shark. One claims he knocked her up. A boy says Nix nearly drowned him, which alerts Cecil a little. He does his best to tell what’s exaggerated from what’s true. Yes, Nix does sleep around a lot, and yes, he’s sometimes…difficult.

But, Cecil defends him anyways. He doesn’t think Nix is a bad person, as much as he might try to put that persona on.

A hand wipes away his tear tracks. And then the brief, chilled touch is gone. The door shuts and Cecil is alone in their dormroom.

He’s alone for a while, sat on the couch. He ends up sitting on his hands so he doesn’t fidget, or claw at his thighs, or pull at his hair. He hopes Nix doesn’t ask for a new roomie. Or kicks him out or - do something bad. Cecil can be better, he’ll try to be better.

It feels like ages before the door goes again and Nix walks back in. Cecil notes his battered knuckles but -

“My book!” He exclaims with a genuine smile, taking it off Nix and cradling it to his chest like it’s precious and it is to him. He feels calmer, grounded already. “Thankyou!” Cecil pauses, voice a little more sincere. “Really. Thankyou, Nix,”

Nix sighs as he heads back inside their dorm, finally handing Cecil his book. He doesn’t expect such an instant reaction but offers a small smile anyways, his attitude completely changing from the devastation he witnessed before he left. He watches him, eyes cool and curious as Cecil clutches the book to his chest, thanking him one too many times. 

But it’s nice...in a way, that this means so much to him. 

He clears his throat and nods, “You’re welcome.” He brushes some hair over his shoulder. “He won’t be bothering you again. Keep your door locked, okay?” Just in case for so many reasons, but also so he doesn’t have to deal with this again. 

And while he wants to convince himself that it has everything to do with Cecil not bothering him again...somewhere, deep in his chest, he doesn’t want to see his roommate cry again. 

--

He ends up at a party because it’s a Thursday night and where else would he really be? It’s crowded and the music sucks but the alcohol is decent so, why not? He’s not buzzed yet but he’s feeling good, wandering through the house and gaining all the attention he usually does just by being there. A lot of hellos or touches or whispers to find them later upstairs. 

It shouldn’t be so easy. 

He’s not sure what he’s interested in tonight but he knows he won’t be bringing anyone home...Cecil is usually studying and well, it’s much easier for Nix to bail he’s sleeping in someone else’s bed. 

Some girls are gossiping about him as he makes his way to the kitchen--and by gossip he means they’re dragging his name through the mud. The irony of it is, he’s pretty sure he’s slept with one and rejected the other...but that’s what humans do when they’re ashamed after a night of alcohol and silly mistakes. He knows how much his name floats around campus, whether in good or bad taste...and people are either jealous or salty, it’s always one of the two. 

“He’s like a walking STD.” One of them whispers and oh so suddenly, her drinks waves up and out of her cup onto her dress. 

Nix smirks as he walks by, moving to pour more whiskey into his cup when he sees...wait. 

“Cecil?” He asks over the music, seeing him in the corner of the kitchen. 

Once he starts crying, it’s like a dam that’s burst open and refuses to be closed. Cecil can’t help the sobs that wrack his body. The fear, the disappointment and how it all clogs up in his chest and makes everything so heavy and muddled in his already confusing life. Cecil doesn’t want to cry infront of Nix, because he knows he’ll be laughed at or berated. He’s trying to make him feel…better, he can tell by what he says. But, he can also tell that emotions aren’t Nix’s strong point.

It isn’t enough, and Cecil goes to say something only for it to come out choked and strangled. Nix stares at him a little longer before there’s a shift in his body language and Cecil reads something, understands something that hasn’t been said. Cecil leans forwards his chest and he doesn’t - move to stop him.

In fact, Nix does the opposite and pulls him close when he eventually collapses forwards. Holds him against his chest as he sobs with shaking hands, trying to get control over himself again. The control he so desperately needs to be a normal, functioning human being.

He can hear his heartbeat. Cecil hoped to feel the warm heat of his skin, of life from his chest to, yet…Nix is cool. Pleasantly so. Maybe he didn’t turn the heating on, or the chill from outside has clung to him like a second skin? His train of thought stops when he feels fingers in his long hair. They don’t pull, just gently tug at knots and pull it free from the hairband.

Cecil pushes his face further into the others chest if possible, stifling his sobs against the material. He feels…safe here. It feels natural, and good.

Look at me - he doesn’t have a choice, fingers on his chin forcing his gaze upwards to dark, stomry eyes. Nix knows who’s got his book, and he promises nobody else will touch his stuff. He doesn’t have to, Cecil knows that, but he is.

“Can you get it back for me?” Cecil asks, voice hoarse, tears slowly coming to a standstill. “Please. I…I can’t go back in there until it’s - there,” It’ll irritate him to no end.

Nix sighs softly and lets Cecil cling to him, allows him to melt into his chest and gently drags him towards the couch. Not that Cecil is heavy, he practically weighs nothing, lots of hair and layered clothes. But he doesn’t want his legs to give out either, because he doesn’t feel like picking him up. 

Not that he hasn’t thought about picking Cecil up and carrying him to his bed, because he has, but that isn’t the correct situation for that at all. 

He gently sits Cecil on the edge of the couch and kneels in front of him, between his legs before his one hand falls to his knee, his thumb automatically rubbing back and forth. God, all of this over a fucking book. He’s never letting someone into this dorm room again. 

Though maybe this is just the universe telling him he should stop fucking other guys in his own bed--it is after all so much easier going to someone else’s room and leaving right after. No morning routine, no awkward hugs or talks or discussion of phone calls. Right okay, this is the last time he brings someone back to his room--doesn’t care how hot they are. Cecil clearly needs a routine and that involves no one else touching things they own in this dorm room. 

Nix nods softly and licks his lips--he’s going to have to get this book right now. There’s really no other choice. He sighs and runs his thumb over Cecil’s cheek, wiping away a tear track. Fuck. He says nothing else as he leaves, grabs his jacket on the way out. 

--

It’s easy to find Joe (or Jack or whatever the fuck his name is)... he’s in the same exact place he found him. Near a student lounge cafe. He says nothing before grabbing him by the shirt, slamming him into the nearest door. The door gives way easily, making him stumble back a few steps--an empty stairwell. Good. 

“What the fuck Nix--”

“Don’t talk.” He warns. “Where’s the book? And don’t pretend you didn’t take it. Give it back, now.” 

John must sense he’s not playing around because he just swallows and slowly takes it out of his bookbag. Nix snatches the book off of him and calmly approaches him, breathing evenly out his nose. The guy backs up, nearly falling down a set of stairs before Nix grabs him again. 

“You touch anything of Cecil’s again or I hear you even looked at him in the wrong way, you’ll be wishing I pushed you down these stairs. Understand?” 

Jake swallows and nods, unable to find the words out of his throat. Nix isn’t sure if his eyes are glowing purple but he feels his fingers shaking so he figures they might be. He punches him right across the cheekbone before making his way back to the dorm. 

Nix is lying, Cecil is sure and everytime he denies it his anger just grows stronger. Nobody else comes in here, and he’s got a motive because he barged into his room while he was fucking some pretty young thing a few days back. “Yes you did! You’re pissed off because of the other day! Give me back my book!”

Another denial and Cecil just loses his temper. Why won’t he give it him back? Does Nix hate him that much? Does he not see the stress Cecil is in, eyes set deep in his skull, fingers shaking, smelling of disinfectant?

So he loses his temper, moreso than he already has and he shoves Nix, hair falling from his bun and framing his face. A part of him waits for his roommate to do something back, push him, punch him and that same part of Cecil dearly wants him to. Smack him in the face and break his nose, make him bleed just - the pain. Anything to distract him from the gnawing panic inside his head.

Stop fucking pushing me! He’s getting riled up, good. Maybe an admission or the pain he craves. Cecil pushes him again, only now Nix turns the tables and grabs his hands. Moves down to his forearms and Cecil struggles against it. “Let go! Let me go!” He’s strong but all that swimming means Nix is stronger. He says again, that he didn’t touch his stuff.

And something in Cecil snaps and he wails - such an ugly and desperate noise.

“Let me go! Let me fucking go! It’s not - fair give me my book you disgusting liar! Fuck you! Fuck you, asshole! Asshole! Asshole! Asshole!” Cecil spits the word again and again and again, repetitively saying the word because he can’t help it. There’s a clear panic in his wild eyes, and…fear, to. He’s breathing heavy, panting as Nix keeps hold of him, keeping him still but also, grounded. To here.

“Need my book. Book, book, book,” And the wind in his sails is starting to deflate. Tears drip down his cheeks and he can’t look at Nix. His chest hurts from how it seizes with panic.

Touching Cecil is all it seems to take for a switch to flip and he starts screaming. No, it’s different from screaming; this isn’t an argument anymore, this isn’t regular fighting. Nix knows what it’s like to be angry, for that to consume him. For him to start spitting words and throwing punches--he doesn’t get upset. He refuses to get caught up in silly emotions like that. 

He hasn’t cried since, well, for a very long time. 

But Cecil? Cecil snaps like a twig, he sobs. It’s the ugliest sound he’s ever heard. Not to say that Cecil isn’t attractive, beautiful even--because he is. Even when he’s upset like this, eyes watery and lips red and full, hair framing his face, long and smelling of lavender. No. The sounds he’s making ae ugly, painful, like an animal in pain and backed into a corner. 

He swallows, shaking his head. 

The other night? 

“Cecil,” He nearly shakes him. “I could give two fucks that you walked in on me. You think that’s the first time a third party has seen my dick while fucking someone?” He’s being honest, he doesn’t care. He kinda likes getting caught actually, the undercurrent thrill of it all. 

But. 

And while this whole thing is absurd, when the tears start, Nix can’t push him away. He really should--shove Cecil aside and tell him to grow up over a fucking book but....something deep inside him crumbles, falls away. He doesn’t know what it is or if he’ll ever need it again but he knows that he can’t stand to see his roommate cry. 

So he lets Cecil crumble against his chest and hugs him, drawing him in close. 

“Shh,” He mumbles, “Hey,” He whispers, running his fingers through his hair. He gets rid of the hair-tie, tugs the knots out with his hands. And then it dawns on him, of course, there was a third-party in their dorm. If Nix didn’t do this-- 

he goes very still. 

“Look at me,” He says gently, tipping Cecil’s face to look at him. “I know who took your book. I promise he or anyone else for that matter will touch your stuff again. Understand?”

The absence of the book goes unnoticed for only a day or two before Cecil needs it. Not for academia either, he’s just cleaning his room because the essay he spent all that damn time on? It wasn’t good enough. He didn’t get a pass, and wasn’t allowed to take part in their trial at the local courts and has to re-do it all again. Who does he blame? Nix. It’s Nix’s fault for fucking and throwing him off, not his own lack of passion.

To add to his stresses, Cecil feels like he’s going to pop. His dad has called four times in the last day and he doesn’t want to pick up - no doubt he knows about his failure. The large degree of control he exercises over his life is slipping and he’s barely been at this damn place a month. This was supposed to be different, here was supposed to be different.

He’s been getting short with Nix to for not stacking plates in size order or putting bigger glasses at the back of the cupboard and smaller at the front. Normally, it’s not a big thing but as Cecil slowly veers off the rails, it starts to build into something big and uncontrollable.

Which is why he’s obsessively cleaning his room. With his hair tied back and a filter mask around his mouth armed with bleach, white vinegar, polish and a trash bag. Cecil’s room is already spotless, this is just…well, he can’t describe it. He’s trying to regain control of his life, this is how he does it.

Everything is aligned properly ( he checks with a ruler ) except - No. The book is gone, a book is gone and that wouldn’t be a problem to normal people but there’s a large gap where Dracula should be. Now, they don’t go in order of size and there’s a clamping feeling in his chest like he can’t breathe -

“NIX!” Cecil practically screams, hands balled into fists because who else would take it? Want to spite him, it would be his insufferable roommate who’s got a fucking vendetta against him. “WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BOOK? WHERE DID YOU PUT IT!” He’s trying so hard to not hurt Nix, or hurt himself. Digging his nails into his palms seems to work, for now. Usually he tears out chunks of his hair.

Nix comes into the dorm and it chokes him with bleach. Jesus, what the fuck? He’s usually pretty good with cleaning, cause you know, Cecil has an itch for that sort of thing. But bleach? Seriously? 

“Dude, what the fuck? You better not be using that shit near my fish tank--” 

He’s in the door for two minutes, maybe three, before Cecil is screaming. Bloody murder. He’s never heard Cecil sound like that. He’s heard frustrated, maybe annoyed, but never this. This is something else. 

He stares at him for a long moment because...what? A book? He’s so confused. He never goes into Cecil’s room, for this very reason. Everything is organized to a T, dude would notice a carpet fiber gone astray if he stepped into his room. So he steers clear. 

He tries to swallow the offence building in his chest because really? Over a fucking book? 

“I didn’t touch your shit, I don’t care about your books.” He says offhandedly, throws his satchel down on the couch and takes off his leather jacket. He thinks the conversation is over but Cecil continues---

Where did he put it?

Cecil looks ready to implode, either on himself or explode at Nix. He’s not sure what will happen first. All this over a book. 

He licks his lips and turns, watches him for a moment. 

“Seriously.” He says after a moment. “I haven’t touched your stuff. I don’t care about your books to move them.” 

Nix barely gets the words out of his mouth before Cecil moves, fast, hands shaking and he pushes him. Actually pushes him, strong too. Much stronger than Nix gave him credit for, though, he’s upset. He knows that has something to do with it. 

“Hey!” He snaps. Wants to push back but...Cecil is small. If Nix does so in earnest, he might hurt him. And as annoying as he’s being, he doesn’t want to hurt him. 

Nix glances into the bedroom again, sees the bleach and the ruler and cleaning supplies. The gloves. And suddenly, it makes a little bit of sense--why this is setting Cecil off. Why he’s super conscious over the cleaning decisions Nix makes in their shared space. 

“Stop fucking pushing me.” Nix warns as Cecil does it again and grabs his hands, his forearms, tries to get control of the other’s movements. He can’t talk to him if he won’t settle down, if he won’t sit still. “Stop, I didn’t touch your stuff.” 

Living with someone else is turning out to be…surprisingly okay in Cecil’s books. Nix is quiet, sometimes they chat if they happen to have spare time together in the morning or in the rare evenings. Cecil joined the book club and when he’s not working hard at law, he’s there, chatting about something he actually feels passionate about. There, Cecil feels like he can be himself. Sometimes they go on bar crawls dressed up, it’s just fun.

He can’t believe that he was so worried about not fitting in right. About being too weird, or too neurotic but, no. Cecil has jelled well with a select few people. Something that’s also surprised him is his roommates cleanliness. Nix cleans up after himself ( even if it’s not to Cecil’s impossibly high standards ), and keeps everything neat which he asked. They don’t really interact much and he’s fine with that, honestly.

It’s late evening, and tomorrow Cecil has an assignment to be in. It’s been half done for a few days, and he’s just adding the finishing touches before tomorrows afternoon deadline. Not much, just making sure his bibliography is correct and finishing off his counter-arguement and conclusive statement. If this is good enough, it’ll be recited by him in the mock trial the week after - then he’ll get graded on that to.

A door slams shut and oh - Nix is home early and with someone. That’s fine, as long as they’re quiet.

Another 200 words and there’s a moan. Delicious, low and Cecil doesn’t know if it’s Nix’s or whoever he’s with. Whatever just one - no, two. Then three, panting, curse-words.

“Shut the fuck up!” The law student bangs hard on the wall in protest after another loud cry. Maybe if he wasn’t up to his eyes in case studies, he’d find it hot. Get off to the idea of Nix ploughing some pretty young thing.

Another 300 words and the banging starts again and Cecil knows what they’re doing now. He’s almost done, so damn close. Just a quick spellcheck and another read-through to make sure it’s perfect just like everything else -

“NIX! FUCK QUIETER! Though Cecil’s protest only seems to make it go faster, and harder and - he doesn’t need this. The library is closed for maintenance, he can’t go anywhere else. He deserves some peace and quiet.

Losing his temper he gets up, picking up his thickest book and storming out of his room. He doesn’t even bother to knock, nor acts taken aback a seeing his roomie balls deep in some boy and launches the book at them.

"Fuck somewhere else!”

Alright, so he knows he’s never been quite...quiet when it comes to fucking. He likes being vocal, he likes when his partner is vocal right back. Loves the whines mixed with the rocking off hips. 

But apparently, Cecil does not. 

Or maybe Cecil is just a jealous little bitch, Nix can’t quite tell. 

Regardless, when his bedroom door slams open, “Join in or get the fuck out” leaves his lips right before a book hits the back of his head. “Get out or you’ll fucking regret it.” He hisses, holding onto his head, the movement momentarily stopped. 

He’s pretty sure his eyes glow purple, just for a moment, but Cecil is already gone out of the doorway with his door closing behind him. His fuck buddy is face down in a pillow, ass up, so he certainly didn’t see. 

Jesis. 

There’s a whole room between them, it can’t be that loud. Even with thin walls, it’s not like they’re right next to one another. He rubs the back of his head, he’ll have a knot there tomorrow, he knows it--

and continues his hips. 

Fuck Cecil, quite literally. If he wants to study in the hallway he can. This is his dorm too. 

They finish up with one another quickly after that, Nix already bored the minute the sweat dries. Cecil seems to be asleep by then, the bedroom light off, door gently closed. 

“You really let him go off the wall like that?”

Nix shrugs. “It’s his dorm too. Whatever.” 

“He threw a book at you.” 

“He got to see my cock, he’ll change his attitude sooner or later. Probably sooner.” He grins. 

Rob (Ronald?) tries to kiss him before he leaves and Nix puts two fingers on his lips. “Bye.” And closes his door. 

This is easier for them to pretend that they’re not living together. That they have their own space. 

Nix can tell when Cecil’s been home however. He can smell his cologne, the gentle scent of tea leaves in the kitchen even though there’s never a dirty tea cup or spoon. Always cleans up after himself. Always puts things away exactly where he’s found him--he’s not kidding, like, even the remote is put back exactly in the same spot. 

Weird. 

Nix has almost told him that it’s okay if this place looks lived in, it’s not a furniture cataloge. If nothing changes then nothing ever will sort of mindset frontloading his brain. But he thinks if he did something crazy like rearrange the living room that Cecil might lose it.

So he doesn't. 

And they just keep on living together without really seeing each other. 

Until Nix’s night class finishes an hour early and he brings someone back to the dorm. He closes the door and glances towards Cecil’s room--the door is also closed...but he can’t quite remember if Cecil is back yet or if he’s finishing work up at the library. 

Either way, this won’t last long. The guy (Rick...or wait, Rob??) is looking around his dorm like this is the first time he’s seeing it. And then he realizes that he’s trying to get to know Nix by looking at his belongings and...Jesus, he just wants a good blowjob. 

“Your roommate cool? I heard he’s kind if wired, like, wound too tight?” 

“Don’t.” Nix says, tilting his head. A small warning...if he’s going to insult his roommate he can leave. They’re not here to talk. 

Nix presses him towards his bedroom and presses their lips together, hungry, demanding. “If you’re going to talk, you can leave.”