Chapter 1
Science, Mechanics, and Jazz Music.
Science, Mechanics, and Jazz Music.
Science, Mechanics…
Norman repeated the list in his head, over and over, mulling the information. Science, Mechanics, and Jazz Music. Those were the three terms that his soon-to-be college roommate had written on the “interests” section of the room application.
Otto Octavius sounds like a fake name, a pseudonym, Norman thought to himself. He sounds like a loser.
It wasn’t that Norman’s interests didn’t line up with Otto’s- in fact, their interests were almost a perfect match (although Norman preferred classical). It was just that Norman would never reveal those terms to be his interests. They sounded so dry, analytical, boring. Norman was none of those things- he was newly freed from the confines of his parents home, and he was ready to release the loudest parts of his personality. Norman Osborne was a flamboyant, pretentious, suave bastard who happened to have a penchant for chemistry. Otto Octavius sounded, to Norman, like a total nerd- quiet, insular, drab.
Norman caught himself, stopping his own train of thought. He was being mean again. He didn’t even KNOW this Otto guy, and he was already disparaging him.
I’ll give him a fair shake. I’ll talk to him, engage him, involve him for about a week. And then if he truly is as boring as he sounds, I’ll completely ignore his presence.
And thus, with his newly formed resolution, Norman stopped by the door to his new room. 221. He shoved the key in the lock and threw open the door, taking in the tiny little space with his eyes. Two beds, opposite sides, endowed with one tan blanket each. Two desks, similarly bare, in either corner. One closet, already propped open, revealing a pile of neatly folded clothes, in shades of black and brown, laying inside. Norman paused, trailing his eyes back across the room to finally land once again on the closet. ONE closet. Otto may seem to have a simple enough wardrobe, but Norman was a man of sophisticated tastes. There was no way all his silk button-up shirts and tapered slacks were going to fit in that closet, not to mention Norman’s ever-growing collection of oxford shoes.
Norman approached the unfortunate singular closet and began to investigate it further. He didn’t spend much time looking at Otto’s clothes- they weren’t much to look at. Norman did, however, open one of the drawers to reveal a small collection of glistening watches laid neatly in boxes. Rolex and Tissot logos stared back at him, their gemstone accents flickering in the dim light of the dorm room. Various French names flashed through Norman’s mind as he read the labels on the timepieces.
"Luxury Watches" certainly wasn’t on Otto’s interest list.
Perhaps he was more intriguing than Norman expected.
Before Norman could finish editing his mental image of Otto, there was a knock on the door, interrupting Norman from his conceptualization. He hastily shut the drawer full of watches and paced towards the door to the dorm, which had swung shut as Norman had explored. He opened the door to a looming torso.
No, that’s not quite right. There was a man in the doorway. But the man loomed. He was tall. No, that’s not right either. He wasn’t much taller than Norman, and yet even so, Norman had to crane his neck to meet the man’s eyes, dark pools of burgundy-tinted brown, not dissimilar from some of the sweaters that lay in the closet.
Norman was sizing up the man in the doorway. His outfit was drab; a tan jacket on top of a simple tan button up, tucked into simple tapered slacks of yet another tan shade. Norman himself was around 5’8- not incredibly tall, but definitely not short either. That would put the man in the doorway at about…6’4. So maybe there was a reasonable difference between their heights.
“Sorry, I…this is my dorm. We must be roommates,” the man said, stumbling over his words.
Norman couldn’t believe he had been so lost in thought that the man had beaten him to speech. Norman was always first at introductions.
“You must be Otto!” Norman said, equal parts excited and sarcastic, beaming a lopsided grin.
“And that would make you Norman?” Otto asked in response.
Norman affirmed him and moved aside to let him in. And then he paused, his breath leaving his throat to anticipate his speech.
“If you’re my roommate, why did I have to let you in? I mean, where’s your key?”
Otto scratched the back of his neck and stared at his feet. “If you can believe it, I’ve already misplaced it. I think it must be at the lab. I went down there first thing after I unpacked, and I’m afraid I’m not quite in order yet,” he rambled, overexplaining himself out of habit. Norman made a mental note of the behavior.
So Otto’s always going to be on the defense, huh?
“I understand. I’m not quite in order myself,” Norman responded, gesturing to his still-packed suitcase. “I was still taking in the room when you knocked.”
Otto moved towards the desk on the right side of the room and set down the pile of notebooks and loose papers that he had tucked under his arm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You don’t have a preference for a certain side of the room, do you?”
“No trouble at all,” Norman dismissed. “And no preference either. You seem to have gravitated to the right. Although I do apologise for the amount of closet space I plan to occupy.”
Otto sighed in relief, taking off his jacket and laying it on the right bed. “I’m a creature of habit, and I sleep on the right side of my room. It’s odd, I know, but I like to keep some semblance of normalcy in my new life.”
Norman didn’t respond, leaving space for Otto to continue.
“And,” Otto said, waving his hand, “I don’t mind at all about the closet. I need one drawer and a bit of space for my sweaters and that’s all. Really, take as much space as you need. I can always move my watches to the desk as well-”
Norman laid a calming hand on Otto’s shoulder, stilling his frantic motion. “Otto, man, it’s really no trouble. It’s my own fault for having such a gratuitously extensive wardrobe. It’s my one vice in life- clothing.”
Otto sighed again, leaning back to sit on his bed. Norman turned and moved to relax onto his own.
Silence hung in the air as the two men contemplated each other, unsure of what naturally came next. It was a weird situation- two men suddenly living together, who know nothing about each other, suddenly forced into familiarity.
Two men who know ALMOST nothing about each other, Norman realized.
“So, Jazz music!” Norman exclaimed, breaking the silence that had settled like dew over the room.
Otto looked up, a mixture of surprise and excitement on his face.
"You must've read my list of interests. I'm afraid I wasn't too forthright. I didn't want to scare anyone off."
Ah. So maybe he isn't a total loser.
"But surely you actually like Jazz. I mean, you weren't lying," Norman said, suddenly embarrassed of his effort to memorize Otto's list.
Otto held up his hands in defense. "No! I do truly love Jazz. Don't get me started. We'll be here all night discussing diminished sevenths and modulated keys."
Norman smiled. "I'd have no problem with that. I have an appreciation for music myself."
Otto's eyes lit up, excited to share an interest with his new roommate.
"What kind?"
Norman began to chatter on about his tastes in classical music, from the romantic composers to the more modern ones, especially the Russians. Norman loved Russian piano- Rachmaninoff, Kabalevsky, Tchaikovsky. The two men exchanged musical opinions and felt their way around each other's personalities, Norman hanging intently on Otto's every word, determined to decipher his status as interesting or not. Eventually, their dorm room dimmed as the sun set, and Otto shifted the conversation to a more practical topic. They determined a time for their alarms to be set- 7 am, as they both shared an 8 am physics lecture. After the politics of living together had been settled, the night had made itself quite clear to them in the form of yawns and lazy eyelids, and finally, Otto suggested sleep.
Norman agreed, managing to shove in one last remark before Otto flicked the light switch- "I really do appreciate Wagner's musical contributions, especially the leitmotif, but I regret who he was as a person."
Otto chuckled, agreeing with Norman. It was obvious the two would be able to bond over music, their most passionate interest second only to science.
As Norman's eyes adjusted to the dark and he was able to find his way under the covers, his mind quickly subduing to slumber, he had one final thought-
Maybe this won't be so bad.