Chapter 4
"Ladies and Gentlemen, pleaaasee don't forget to submit your essays by Friday and please, enjoy your winter break."
Norman scooped up his things and ran out of the humanities building as soon as the lecture finished. Finally on break. In all truthfulness, college had been kicking his ass. He was smart, sure, but everyone's bound to get burnt out at an Ivy League.
He resisted the urge to jog all the way back to the dorm. As soon as he arrived he threw open the door and dove onto his bed. He laid there in perfect bliss for a few seconds until he was interrupted by the sudden and surprising sound of Otto's voice.
"Someone's happy to be done," he said, Norman raising his head to search for the source of the voice.
Otto had been seated on his bed and had watched Norman's pitiful display of exhaustion.
Embarrassing, Norman thought to himself.
"Not quite done. Just a week off. But yeah, happy to have a break."
"Happy to be stuck here all week with me?" Otto asked, words thick with sarcasm.
"Surely you're not just going to sit in the dorm all week, Otto."
Otto stood up and moved towards the window, looking out over campus.
"Not what I meant. Blizzard headed in tonight. We very well could be snowed in by morning." As the words left Otto's mouth, the first snowflake stuck on the window-impeccable timing.
Great, Norman thought. Just what I need. A week trapped in the same cramped room as always.
"Well then. Guess we'll have to find solace in each other, like in the olden days, huh?" Norman knew Otto could hold his own in conversation- at least they could talk.
Otto cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, hair falling across his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Norman stared blankly, deciphering Otto's reaction until it hit him. "Jesus, No, Otto, not like that."
Otto laughed, and the tension in the air dissipated-briefly. "Sorry. You know," Otto looked at his feet, trying to decide whether to finish his sentence. "I just don't know what to think when you're moaning my name in your sleep." He smiled.
Norman's face turned beet red and he hid it in his pillow.
My dream. Fuck. My dream. I was...talking-no, moaning- in my SLEEP? Fuck.
Finally, Norman mustered the will to speak. "You know, the mind can conjure up some strange things. For the record, I am NOT gay."
"You're not?" Otto asked. Norman thought he could sense some light tinge of disappointment in his voice.
"No, of course not. Hell no." Norman replied, maybe a bit too harshly.
Otto paused and sucked in a breath.
"I am."
Norman looked up to meet Otto's eyes. Silence hung thick and heavy in the room.
Finally, Norman managed a smile.
"Hey, man, as long as you don't hit on me or anything, we're all good."
Now it was Otto's turn to blush. "I- I would never."
Norman feigned offense. "Am I that ugly?"
Otto flushed brighter. "NO! Not at all. I mean, it's just-"
Norman's laugh cut him off. "Man, it's fine. Whatever."
But the tension wasn't gone from Otto's face. His brows were still pushed low over his eyes, almost glaring.
"That's not all."
Norman gave Otto a look of confusion. "What, you've got a boyfriend or something?"
Otto sighed. "No."
"What, then?"
"I'm transgender. I'm... a trans man. I wasn't born-"
Norman cut him off. "Yeah, I know what transgender means. Really, I don't care. None of my business, honest, Otto. Doesn't change a thing between us."
Otto sighed again, this time in relief. "I just didn't know if you'd feel weird about rooming with me, so I didn't say..."
Norman moved to stand and meet Otto. He set a hand on the taller man's shoulder.
"I understand," he paused, tentatively. "Can I hug you?"
Otto nodded, and the two men embraced. Norman caught a whiff of something- some fancy cologne Otto was wearing. It was...intoxicating.
No. What the hell. What's fucking gotten into me?
Norman pulled back abruptly from the hug and sat back down on the bed, silently.
Otto joined him in silence, and turned off the light.
Eventually, Norman laid down.
---
And then it was morning.
Norman could hear the faint sizzling of a frying pan, and the smell of bacon.
He's not fucking cooking, is he? It's so early.
Norman rose and wandered into the tiny room that held the kitchenette. They had discovered it when Norman had tried what he thought was a door to another apartment. Instead, he found a kitchenette- linked to another dorm as well- but a kitchen nonetheless.
There stood Otto, looming over the stove. And, much to Norman's mixed chagrin and astonishment, he was frying bacon.
"Otto, you wonder of nature. You're cooking."
Otto turned and greeted Norman with a smile.
"I sure am! Thought I'd make light of our current, erm... situation."
Norman stole a slice of bacon from the plate by the stove and asked Otto what he meant.
Otto gestured to the window. "Snowed in, like I said. So high I couldn't make it out of the building. And believe me, I tried. Door won't even open."
Norman gulped. "Surely they'll shovel us out, though."
Otto sucked in. "Not until the storm's passed, which could be days. I'm telling you, it's gonna be bad."
"If you say so, Mr. Meteorologist. Thought your specialty was fusion."
"I can still read a weather report, a skill you apparently lack."
Norman laughed off the lighthearted insult and moved to stand behind Otto, peering over to catch a glimpse of the pan.
"Pancakes!" Norman exclaimed, his laugh causing the hair on Otto's neck to stand on end.
Jesus, we're close. I could just wrap my hands around his waist right now.
Instead, Norman stepped back.
Why would I do that?
Breakfast was soon served, and Norman and Otto moved their desks around to form some semblance of a table. The two men ate together, and Norman felt a strange sense of contentment wash over him.
I could get used to this.
---
It was night, and it was cold. The heater in the dorm room was trying its best to warm the small space, but was failing miserably. Norman had wrapped himself tightly in the few blankets he had, and Otto had resorted to double layering sweaters.
60k a semester and we can't even get decent heating units. I should be able to sue.
The men had been laying in chilly silence since Otto had turned off the lights, but from Otto's shaky breathing and constant shifting, Norman could tell they were both still wide awake.
Norman was shivering. He didn't have Otto's comfy style and he could feel his teeth start to chatter. He knew that Otto could hear him shivering, breaths being sucked in and shot out from his shivering body.
Otto shifted in bed.
"Norman?"
His voice practically echoed in the cavernous quiet of the dorm room. If it weren't for the rattling sound of the heater, it probably would've.
What the fuck does he want? Norman thought. The cold had aggravated him- made him angry, somehow.
"Yes, Otto?"
"Do...do you want one of my sweaters?"
Norman didn't reply.
"It's just, you sound so cold. It wouldn't be any trouble, really, I'll just grab one for you..."
Otto's voice trailed off as he disentangled himself from his blankets and made his way to the closet. He ruffled around before pulling out an oversized sweater. It looked soft. Slowly, cautiously, in the dark, Otto made his way across the room to Norman and placed the sweater gently down on the side of his bed.
"If you don't want it, that's fine, but... I just didn't want to watch you freeze while my sweaters sat in the closet."
Norman couldn't bring himself to speak. Otto returned to his bed in silence.
When Norman was sure Otto had rolled over, he slowly put on the sweater. It smelled like Otto's cologne that Norman had noticed earlier. It smelled-and felt- somehow warm. Norman immediately warmed up and his arms stopped shaking.
For some reason Norman hadn't wanted Otto to think he had accepted the sweater. It was almost embarrassing- to be wearing your roommate's sweater like some childish girl on a high school date night.
But he was cold.
It's out of necessity, he told himself. Otherwise, I would never.
Finally, now that he was warmed up a bit-no, significantly- by Otto's sweater-
Otto's sweater.
Norman fell asleep.
---
He woke to Otto gently shaking him, a hand on his shoulder.
He's got large hands.
That was the first thought to enter Norman's head that snowy morning.
"Morning, Darling. No breakfast in bed, I'm afraid, but we've got cereal. I'll pour you a bowl."
Norman looked up at Otto's beaming face, the morning still settling on his mind. Slightly bewildered, as one often is after being woken suddenly from a deep sleep, Norman accepted Otto's offer and sat up, stretching.
Otto's sweater.
Norman was suddenly embarrassed, moving quickly to shed the garment. Otto took notice as he brought Norman a bowl.
"You know, Norman, it looks good on you," Otto said, handing Norman his breakfast. "You can keep it on if you'd like. In fact, you can just keep it. God knows I have enough of my own."
Norman looked down at the cereal in his lap. "I couldn't. It's not proper."
Otto rubbed the edge of the blanket between his fingers, idly, as he formulated a response.
"Improper because it's someone else's sweater, or improper because it's my sweater?" Otto cast his gaze up at Norman, waiting somewhat nervously for a response.
Norman moved his spoon through his cereal, watching the milk swirl.
"It wouldn't be good manners," replied Norman, firmly, finally.
Otto knew what battles to fight, what buttons of Norman's he could push, where to challenge the man's straight and narrow mind. He realized it would be better to drop the subject.
"I think I'm going to go down to the laundry room and run a load. I'll be back soon, dear."
Enough goddamn pet names. This isn't proper.
Otto stood up, looming over Norman's still seated figure.
Slowly, deliberately, Otto leaned over.
Carefully, slowly, he moved his head down to meet Norman's.
Norman tilted his chin up and met Otto's gaze.
Yes, Otto knew when to pick his battles. He knew just how to pull on Norman's strings. He knew what small little actions or words would rule Norman's thoughts for days.
He was choosing to fight this battle. And he knew this would stay in Norman's head for a long time.
And when Norman and Otto were mere inches apart, Otto placed one gentle kiss on Norman's forehead.
He promptly turned, scooped up the laundry basket, and exited the dorm room.