Not a Cliché

“I’m not going to do it.”

Lafontaine looked up from the textbook they were reading as Carmilla barged into their room, falling onto their bed and putting her boots on their freshly washed covers.

“Ever heard of knocking?” they grumbled, pushing her feet onto the floor.

“Never took to it.”

“Not going to do what?”

“Become a cliché.”

Lafontaine raised an eyebrow. “You. The brooding, star loving, monochrome wearing philosophy major aren’t going to become a cliché?”

“Nope.”

She picked up the textbook, frowned in disgust, and threw it back.

“Not existential enough for you?”

“I’m having a real issue here.”

“Right. Sorry. Which cliché are you fighting?”

“I will not,” Carmilla sat up and stared hard at Laf, who was fighting a grin at her determination, “develop feelings for the roommate that hates me.”

Lafontaine sat back, letting the grin break out. “This is what this about?”

“I’m very unhappy with this development.”

“You’ve got feelings for Hollis?”

“No. I’ve got potential feelings for Hollis. But I’m going to fight them. Because…”

“You’re not a cliché.”

“Exactly.”

Carmilla flopped back down onto the bed, putting her feet back and letting out a long side.

Lafontaine couldn’t help but laugh. “You are totally a cliché.”

 //

It wasn’t like she had been expecting a banner. Or a party. Or anything resembling joy at her arrival and disturbing what she knew had once been a single room for a year but now had two occupants. She had been wary that her new roommate would not like this change and had been prepared for annoyance, that she would overcome with a friendly personality and a constant stream of baked goods.

She hadn’t expected the level of unwelcome she had received.

Her new roommate had looked her up and down, snorted and told her “If you stick you your business, I’ll stick to my business, and maybe we’ll get through this year without homicide.”

She was rude and snarky and Laura didn’t like Carmilla Karnstein one bit.

 //

It had been, if he was honest, almost too easy to make Laura hate her. It had spawned from annoyance at having her room invaded and become more of a routine than and actual choice.

Carmilla had never seen someone so small look at her with so much hatred before.

A chore wheel had been introduced, and made an excellent Frisbee as it sailed out the window. Clothes on the floor and hair in the shower had turned into Carmilla actively looking for ways to get Laura to turn to her with fury. It became almost therapeutic.

“Why are you like this?” Laura had asked her once. And it seemed like a genuine question. Like Laura couldn’t possibly understand why someone wouldn’t embrace chore wheel and nagging and disinfectant being sprayed in the bathroom incessantly.

Carmilla had just smirked over her book and gone back to tapping her foot against the wall. Laura had looked livid, and stalked from the room.

 //

“Why do you do that too her?”

Lafontaine sounded judgemental as they eyed Carmilla, who had just blatantly missed the bin while throwing away some paper. Laura had rolled her eyes, like it barely affected her, and left.

“It’s just so much fun.”

“Bullying?”

Carmilla huffed. “It’s not bullying. I’m not taking her lunch money or putting foam in her locker.”

“I don’t think any of that stuff actually happens.”

“What can I tell you, I was home schooled. But she makes this face. Like she’s gearing for a fight. And she’s so small.”

“You can be nice,” Lafontaine told her. Carmilla was insulted. “Why don’t you try doing that?”

“I’m not that nice.”

“You’re nice to me.”

“I could be nicer.”

“You’re nice to Perry.”

“That’s only as a consequence of being nice to you.”

“My point is,” Laf deflected a paper ball aimed at her head, “that you could try it.”

Carmilla sat up. “I would. I really would,” she said earnestly. “But it’s just so much fun.”

 //

“I hate her,” Laura told Betty, spearing her pancakes in the hope they would make her feel better.

“You’ve mentioned.”

“She’s awful.”

“You’ve said.” Betty knew Carmilla from Classic English, and had experienced her aloof attitude but had also been leant notes when she overslept and given a coffee when she couldn’t stop yawning, so knew that Carmilla wasn’t all bad. Not that she would say anything to Laura in fear the pancakes would soon become her hand.

“The worse thing is she knows it,” Laura sighed in defeat. “She knows she’s terrible. And she keeps on being terrible.”

“Why don’t you switch rooms?”

“Because then she’ll win.”

“Win what?”

“I don’t know. But she’ll win it.”

“Maybe if you…”

“You better not be about to suggest I talk to her.” Laura had fire in her eyes and Betty frantically back tracked.

“I take it you’ve tried that.”

“I just hate her.”

Betty mournfully took a bite of her own breakfast. “I know, Laura. I know.”

 //

The first time she had walked in on her with a girl Laura had turned around and walked straight back out again. The second time she had huffed irritable and left. The third and fourth times she hadn’t even opened the door the entire way before she slammed it shut again. The fifth time she had an exam the following day and needed to study.

“For god sake.” She threw her textbook onto the desk, causing whatever girl Carmilla had deemed worthy of her this week to jump and pull her top down. Carmilla had no such qualms, and smirked at Laura with her shirt still riding too high for Laura’s liking. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Didn’t realise there was a schedule to adhere to.”

“I have an exam.”

“We have a library.”

The girl jumped up and pulled on her coat. “I’ll go.” Carmilla sat up, sighing, but didn’t protest. The girl kissed her, made her promise to call, then left.

“You know if you got some action yourself you might not be this wound up.”

Laura ignored her and started reading her notes.

“Maybe try to go to a few parties once in a while,” Carmilla continued, unphased by Laura’s unresponsiveness.

“I go to plenty of parties.”

“I’ve never seen you.”

“That’s because you always your tongue don’t some girls throat.”

“That’s not the only place my tongue goes,” Carmilla said, then laughed when Laura groaned in disgust.

“Do you even know their names?”

“Crystal. Amber. Opal. Usually involved a gemstone. I think it’s a type.”

“So you don’t know.”

“I thought you were all progressive, and here you are judging me.”

“I’m not judging you.” Laura spun around the find Carmilla smirking at her. “I’m just not sure why you do it.”

“I told you. Works wonders for stress relief.”

Laura sighed and turned back. She didn’t care enough about Carmilla’s actions to press her for a proper answer she knew she was never going to get. “Whatever. Just maybe try throwing a sock on the door or something next time.”

 //

She had lost count of what girl Carmilla was on, but it had reached double digits and Laura had had enough. What Carmilla did was of no concern of hers, as long as it was done without effecting Laura too much.

“We need to talk.” The door slammed into the wall as Laura barged in, not even flinching at the sight of a girl with her head thrown back on Carmilla bed.

Carmilla looked up from her place between the girls legs. “Kind of in the middle of something here,” she quipped, then grinned at her own joke.

“I’m sure you’ll find another one somewhere.” Laura glared at the girl. “Leave.”

She did, red-faced with embarrassment and with empty promises from Carmilla that she would receive a call.

“If you work your way through them this fast you’re going to have none left for next semester.”

It was unfair, and bordering on cruel, and more judgmental than Laura prided herself on being, but she was sick of being an exile from her own room in the fear of what she would find.

Carmilla eyes hardened at the comment, and she stalked into the bathroom in the guise of getting cleaned up. Laura sat on the edge of her bed, aware she should apologise but equally aware that she wasn’t going to.

Carmilla emerged and sat on her own bed, facing Laura. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You know, I hate coming back here.” Carmilla’s wince was covered by her shifting further back up the bed. “And it’s because I either find you fucking some girl or have to put up with you being so terrible.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Wow. Say how you really feel.”

“And it’s not fair,” Laura continued, ignoring Carmilla. “Because it’s my room too. And I shouldn’t have to dread coming back.”

“I did your sock idea.”

“Throwing it at me when I come in doesn’t count.”

“What do you want from me, Laura. You want to braid each other’s hair and talk about boys?”

“I want you to stop being a bitch all the time. You can’t treat people like this, Carmilla. And I don’t know why you’re sad, but you can’t take it out on me.”

Carmilla looked up sharply and narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think I’m sad?”

“Happy people don’t screw three girls a week and hide every emotion with apathy.”

“That’s what you think I do?”

Laura nodded mutely. Carmilla looked away from her and at the wall, her eyes hard and her jaw clenched. When she spoke it was with a low voice.

“Well, thank you for your sound diagnosis, doctor. I can’t wait for your self-help book to hit the shelves.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“I’ll make easier for you and go.”

“You don’t have to…”

But Carmilla had already left and slammed the door. Laura flopped back on her bed.

 //

Perry found her on the roof with a bottle in her hand, and called Lafontaine because they were better at it then she was. She sat next to Carmilla and took the bottle, not attempting to speak as she knew she would get no answer. Carmilla didn’t move away, but actively relaxed when Lafontaine’s voice came from the stairs. Perry stood, touching Carmilla gently on the head before leaving, taking the bottle with her. Lafontaine took her place.

“You going to jump?”

“Not even sure I can stand.” Carmilla’s voice was slurred and her head was leaning back against the wall.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

“Laura said I was sad.”

Lafontaine waited to see if she would expand. “You are.”

“I know.”

“This isn’t the way.”

“I know.”

“Always call me.” The intensity of Laf’s voice made Carmilla look at her. “I’ll take you to drink somewhere that isn’t eleven stories high.”

Carmilla’s smile was sloppy. “I’m not going to jump.”

“I know.”

“I’m not that sad.”

Lafontaine didn’t say anything.

“Can I sleep at yours tonight?”

“Of course.”

“She really hates me.”

“Maybe you should give her a reason not to.”

Carmilla paused for a long time, like she was thinking about. She finally said “Nah,” and Laf snorted a laugh.

 //

Things had gotten strange. Carmilla wasn’t necessarily nice, but she wasn’t overtly mean. She was cordial. Didn’t go out of her way to show any sort of pleasantness, but also wasn’t unpleasant.

Laura felt off kilter, like something was being planned and she didn’t know what.

It took Carmilla handing her a tissue when she sneezed for her to snap.

“Okay you need to stop.”

Carmilla looked up from the book she was reading, a frown on her face. “I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s the problem?”

“What?”

“You’re being weird. Bordering on not terrible. And it’s been eight days since I walked in on you having sex so I’m assuming either period or STI.”

“Neither.”

“Then you’re just being weird.”

Carmilla sighed and marked her place before putting down her book. “Look, you were right okay. I was being terrible. I am terrible, it’s my thing. But you shouldn’t have to dread coming home. Everyone deserves somewhere to come to where they feel okay. Where they feel comfortable. I took that from you and I’m sorry.”

Laura didn’t know what to say, and Carmilla had picked up her book, apparently not needing her to say anything.

“Thank you,” she said finally.

Carmilla shook her head without looking up. “Not something you should have to thank me for.”

Laura wondered where it was that Carmilla felt comfortable. She wondered if someone had once taken it away from her.

 //

Carmilla was sad. That much Laura already knew. She could see it in her eyes, a constant undercurrent that seemed to hold weight. It was there when she read, when she typed essays and notes, when she sat looking at the stars late into the night. She smiled rarely, and when she did it was often without humour or at someone’s expense. Her speech was slow and formal, her voice so low that sometimes it could barely be heard.

Laura noticed all this because she found herself watching Carmilla. She’d never really known sadness. She had parents who loved and accepted her, always a loyal group of friends, always smart enough for prospects, kind enough to be liked. She’d had a girlfriend in high school and an amicable breakup. Bad days had happened, and friends had been fought with and pets lost, but she had never experienced the deep kind of sadness Carmilla does.

She wondered what it was that made her so sad, but knew that would never ask, and even if she did wouldn’t receive an answer.

When she saw her, in her sleep, with tears streaming and sobs caught, getting up and waking Carmilla hadn’t even been a decision that needed to be made. She pulled her from whatever dream was hurting her, and looked at her with concern, gripping onto her arms to tell her that was here, that she was okay.

Carmilla had just looked at her with glassy eyes, before pulling herself from Laura’s grip and turn to curl up against the wall. Laura had hesitated before going to her own bed, slipping into the covers and staring at Carmilla’s back.

They won’t speak of it ever. It would be like it didn’t happen.

Carmilla was rude and irritable and kind of terrible, but she hurting so much. And Laura had no way to fix it. But she promised herself that she would try.

 //

It took being drunk for Laura to finally ask. She’d gone to a party, drank whatever was handed to her by her friends, and danced with a pretty girl. She had returned home without the pretty girl, and knocked over a stack of books trying to sneakily get into the room.

A long groan made her freeze, worried Carmilla had got her own pretty girl, but the bedside lamp was turned on and Carmilla was alone. The glare she sent Laura’s way was somewhat diminished by her heavily lidded eyes.

“You have a lot of books,” Laura told her seriously, bending down to try and stack them again but almost falling over in her attempt.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

“Not until late.”

She straightened up to try and regain her balance, but nearly fell backwards. Carmilla sighed as Laura braced herself against the wall to stay standing.

“At least I have the decency to sleep in someone else’s room when I get completely wasted.”

“That was a lot of words,” Laura said, frowning. “Too many words.”

“This is disturbing me.”

“I always disturb you.”

Laura decided that sitting on her bed was the safest option. At least if she fell it would be soft. She looked up to find Carmilla looking at her closely.

“That’s true.” Carmilla stood and Laura called her back.

“I’ll be quiet,” she said, running and imaginary zipper across her mouth. “Don’t leave. I promise.”

Carmilla smirked and shook her head. “I’m going to get you some water.”

“Oh.”

“What exactly did you drink?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Amateur.”

“I danced with a pretty girl.”

“Just dancing, huh?”

“She wasn’t as pretty as you.”

Carmilla froze in the doorway to the bathroom. She frowned at Laura, who was engrossed in trying to undo her shoes. Handing her the water, Carmilla bent down to take over.

“Drink the water.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

Laura over exaggerated drinking, and beamed when it made Carmilla smile.

“You’re going to have such a hangover,” Carmilla laughed as she threw Laura’s shoes in the general direction of the closet. She looked up from her kneeling position to find Laura watching her closely. “What?”

“Why are you sad?”

She stood up quickly and backed away from Laura. “You need to stop with that.”

“You shouldn’t be sad.”

“Oh well in that case I’m cured.”

“I don’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”

It almost looked like Laura was going to cry, and Carmilla didn’t want that. Laura deserved to be drunk and dance with pretty girls.

“Leave it, Laura.”

“Okay.”

“Think about the pretty girl.”

“She was really pretty.”

“Not as pretty as me though, huh?” Carmilla grinned. It faded when Laura looked at her seriously and shook her head.

“She kissed me.”

“Good for her.”

“I don’t know her name.”

“Good for you.”

“My head hurts.”

Carmilla laughed. “It’s going to hurt a lot more in the morning. Drink the water, Casanova. Get some sleep.”

She respectfully turned her back and went to refill the glass as Laura changed painstakingly slowly, turning around at the sound of Laura getting into bed. She placed the water on the floor near her bed. She was going to say something snide, maybe defuse this tension of doing something nice, but Laura was looking at her with soft eyes that were slightly glassy with alcohol. Instead she ran her thumb gently across her forehead, Laura’s eyes closing at her touch.

“Do you need an alarm?”

“Wake me before you go?”

“Okay.”

“One day,” Laura said, sleep starting to seep into her voice, “You’ll tell me why you’re sad.”

“Will I?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever you say, cupcake.”

In the morning it became another thing they didn’t walk about.

 //

“You’re a nerd.”

Carmilla looked up from her book to find Laura scrutinising her. An open laptop was on the desk, and no more of the word document was filled than an hour ago.

“Excuse me?” Carmilla said.

“Well, not a nerd so much. But you’re smart. Smarter than most people, right?”

“I like to think so.”

“I know nothing about history.” Laura spun on the desk chair so she faced the laptop. “And I don’t care. And not in an I can take it or leave it kind of way. I mean violently don’t care.”

“What are you studying?”

“Roman Principate.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“Did I mention I don’t care?”

“Would you like some help.”

“So kind of you to offer it.”

Carmilla smirked as she picked up Laura’s laptop and read what was already written.

“How many words do you need?”

“Three thousand.”

“You’ve got six hundred.”

“Hence my need for help.”

“You know I know nothing about the Roman Principate.”

“Well then we’ll be on the same page.”

Carmilla glanced up. Conversation without insults or Laura leaving in a huff were becoming more frequent, and it was make Carmilla itchy.

“Just because I’ve promised not to be so terrible doesn’t mean we’re friends now,” Carmilla reminded her.

“The fact you think not being an awful person is something that you need to promise in a friendship is worrying.”

“When’s this due?”

“Tomorrow.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. She was meant to be the lazy one in this arrangement, yet had all her essays due for the next month written already. “Hand me that book.”

“Which one?”

“The one on botany.”

“No need for sarcasm.”

“The one of the Roman Empire, of course.”

“It’s big.”

“The Empire?”

“The book.”

“Have you read it?”

Laura looked sheepishly at the front cover. “I looked at the pictures.”

“I will help you on the condition that you don’t complain about the state of bathroom for one month.”

“One week.”

“You are in no position to bargain.”

“Fine. Deal.”

“Okay. We’ll start with Augustus.”

“Who’s Augustus?”

“You had better be joking.”

 //

It took Carmilla to be missing for three nights before Laura started to get worried. Bouts of not seeing her were common, but it never more than two days and not usually in the middle of the week. She’d texted her, aware that their communication over text had been close to non-existent, and waiting until the evening to knock on Perry and Lafontaine’s door in the hope they knew where she was.

“Carmilla’s missing,” she announced when Perry opened the door. She was hoping to be less dramatic than that, but decided to roll with it. “I don’t know where she is.”

Perry didn’t look overly concerned, just sighed and called gently for Laf, who appeared at the door.

“What’s up, Hollis?”

“Carmilla’s missing,” Perry told them. Laf sighed similar to Perry did. Laura didn’t know if this was common or they just weren’t taking it as seriously as her.

“How long for?” they asked Laura. Perry gestured for her come inside as Laf started pulling on shoes.

“Four days now.”

Lafontaine nodded. “Okay. Don’t worry too much, Laura.”

“I’m not.” She was. “It’s just weird. She’s never gone for this long.”

“I’ll find her,” Laf promised. They took out their phone and started texting as they left the room, giving Perry and Laura comforting grips on the shoulder.

“You’re welcome to stay here while they look,” Perry told her.

“Thanks.”

“She does this sometimes.” Perry sat on her bad and Laura took Laf’s. “Drops off the radar for a few days without telling anyone.”

“Do you know why?” Perry’s hesitation told Laura that she did, but she didn’t push it. “Where does she go?”

Perry shrugged. “She won’t stray too far. She drove out once for about two days and it took us a week to find her. Lafontaine shouted at her for an hour and a half. Didn’t talk to her for a month. Carmilla knows that eventually someone will come and look for her, and its best for everyone if she’s found.”

“Is she…” Laura didn’t know how to phrase it. “Will she do anything stupid?”

“No,” Perry said with conviction. “It’s not like that. I think she feels claustrophobic sometimes. She needs to not be around anything for a while. It’s okay. It happens.”

“I thought she was just avoiding me. Or going back to girl’s places instead of bringing them to ours. I should have said something sooner.”

Perry shook her head. “You didn’t know.”

“God, if something happens.”

“It won’t.” The conviction was still there, and Laura felt a little better. “How are things between you two?”

Lafontaine had told Perry, between bouts of laughter, about Carmilla’s developing crush. Perry knew it had the potential to be something good, but the equal amount of potential to be something very bad.

“I don’t know,” Laura admitted. “We don’t talk much. Which I suppose is better than the bickering. And sometimes I feel like we could be friends. Or close to friends. But then she does or says something and I remember what an ass she is. Sorry.” Laura glanced up guiltily. “I know she’s your friend.”

“And I know she’s an ass,” Perry smiled.

“I guess we’re making progress. I don’t mind going back to the room now.”

“That’s good, I suppose.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“It won’t.”

 //

A few hours later and Laura returned to her own room. She was in bed but not asleep when she heard gentle murmuring from outside the door, and recognised Carmilla’s low voice. She was talking to Laf, and the voices soon faded as Carmilla gently opened the door, grimacing when she saw Laura was awake. She looked at the floor sheepishly as she closed it behind her.

Laura was up and hugging her before she could think about it, even though that wasn’t something they did. Carmilla was surprised and took a moment to return it.

“I was worried,” Laura confessed.

“I’m sorry.”

Laura pulled back and stepped away. “You look freezing.”

“I was outside.”

“All this time?”

Carmilla shrugged. She was pale and tired and wanted Laura to stop looking at her like a long lost puppy that had just returned home. Avoiding her roommate’s eyes, she pulled on a hoodie near her bed and sat down. Laura moved to the kettle and started making hot chocolate. Neither said anything for as long as it took her to hand Carmilla one of the mugs and sit on her own bed.

“I was worried,” Laura reiterated.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Next time you plan on falling of the map can you give me a heads up?” She wanted to defuse whatever tension Carmilla had brought with her but it didn’t work. Carmilla smelled faintly of alcohol but spoke coherent enough. “Where did you go?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“Cupcake, stop.”

“I care, okay.”

“No one asked you to,” Carmilla snapped. Her fist was closed and her hand holding the mug was trembling. She gently put it down before she spilled anything.

“People care about people in their lives,” said Laura quietly. “It’s a thing actual humans do.”

“You need to stop.” Carmilla closed her eyes and huddled into the hoodie. It was the one that was slightly too big for her, with the number and name on the back that Laura knew didn’t belong to Carmilla.

“Whose hoodie is that?” Laura asked.

“So many questions with you?”

“Carmilla.”

“My girlfriend’s.” She laughed then, bitterly. “Ex-girlfriend’s.”

Apparently not even Carmilla Karnstein could hide a broken heart behind apathy. She started to struggle with her shoes until Laura let out a sigh and went to help her. Carmilla sat back and didn’t protest as her boots were pulled off.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” she said finally.

“Don’t do it again.”

“Can’t promise you that, cutie.”

“At least.” Laura sat back on her bed after placing Carmilla’s boots next to each other on the floor. “Tell me you’re safe.”

“I’m safe.”

Laura nodded. She lay down and pulled the covers over her, facing away from Carmilla. She heard rustling and footsteps as Carmilla got ready for bed in the bathroom, closing her eyes when she emerged. She tried to wait until Carmilla’s breathing evened out to indicate sleep before she let herself drift off, but sleep overtook her and she uneasily sank into it.