#hercville

Orville wasn’t known for his grace. He was a clumsy guy at best. And it wasn’t cute, it wasn’t quirky, most of the time it resulted in unwanted scratches and bruises or his bag spilling all over the place. It didn’t bother Orville, though. Nope. He just got right back up and kept walking, rubbing at his wounds and shoving everything back into place. 

The point being, he understood when someone fucked up. He had fucked up. He considered himself a fuck up, if you will. He and Wilbur had broken numerous things around the house horsing around, including themselves. Orville knew that kids, especially these University kids, were prone to making messes. Spilling their blasted coffee on carpet or their food combusting in the microwave. He was just happy he wasn’t responsible for the dorm buildings because he thought he might have to decline the job if that were the case.

But this-

“For God’s sake, lad!” 

 -was something he had never seen before. He had been on his way back from cleaning the bathrooms when he turned the corner to find this.  

“What the hell happened?” He stepped away from the cart, closer to the young man he was addressing. Orville’s right hand came up to press against his temple, hands gripping at his hair.