College is not what Foggy expected. He’s always had a really specific image of what university would be like. He imagined that it would be a place of learning, filled with sophisticated, intellectual people. He imagined that it would be a place riddled with social opportunities: classmates, clubs and expansive friend groups. Reality is somewhat different. For one, people aren’t very sophisticated at all. It turns out Columbia is mostly filled with the same type of people he went to high school with, just with more money and legal access to alcohol. College also isn’t turning out to be the grand social experience Foggy hoped it would be. Maybe there are interesting clubs to join, or cool classmates to hang out with, but Foggy wouldn’t know. Foggy does not have time to socialise. Foggy has five essays due by the end of this week. He has written zero essays so far this week. It is Thursday.
But not all of the many surprises of college are turning out to be bad. For example, Foggy wasn’t expecting to find pre-law this interesting. When he filled out his application he’d picked the topic more or less on a whim, and he hadn’t been sure it would suit him. It would in some ways have been much easier to simply follow the career path his mother had so meticulously laid out for him. He still thinks he would have made a good butcher, but also, he’s starting to figure out that law does suit him, and that’s a pretty exciting feeling. One that’s worth more to him than free cured meats.
Another pleasant surprise regarding college is Foggy’s roommate. Before coming here he heard all sorts of horror stories about the dorms, which, yeah, a lot of them are true—it’s been a good two weeks since there wasn’t a brain-numbingly loud party in the room across from theirs going on well into morning—but Matt is turning out to be a pretty great roommate. Actually, he’s turning out to be a pretty great friend. Really, he’s kind of Foggy’s only friend, but still. Even if Foggy had other friends, he’s still pretty sure Matt would be his best friend.
They’re going into their second term now, so they’ve known each other for almost six months, a fact which is cheerfully celebrated by taking a few hours’ break from furious essay writing and going out for drinks. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the three consecutive all-nighters Foggy’s pulled, but he’s feeling slightly sentimental about the occasion. As their friend-semi-anniversary rolls around, Foggy can’t help but remember the good times they’ve had this past semester: all the parties that neither of them were invited to, the nights spent in, the nights spent out, all the times Foggy tried (and the few times he succeeded) to talk Matt into hustling frat boys at pool (how a blind guy can be such a genius at pool, Foggy still doesn’t know). Foggy remembers talking to Matt about everything from the dumb small stuff to the big heavy stuff. He remembers drunkenly confessing his weird insecurities and feelings of inadequacy, and he remembers Matt just as drunkenly assuring him that he’s “like, the best guy ever. Seriously, just like such a great guy, and if people can’t see that then they’ve gotta be blind or something” before they both realised what he said and fell into a fit of giggles.
So they’re friends. Not the kind who hang out a lot in college and then never talk to each other again after graduation. No, they’re going to be stuck with each other for a long time. Forever, Foggy suspects, and doesn’t mind a damn bit. The point is, it’s safe to say that they know each other pretty well by now, which is why Foggy is just a little bit surprised to find out, six months into their friendship, that Matt’s fucking married.
Here’s how the revelation happens: it’s the day after Matt and Foggy’s friend-semi-anniversary. Pretty normal day. Standard classes. Standard migraine-inducing stress. The normalness of the day begins to taper off when Foggy arrives back at their dorm room in the afternoon. He doesn’t knock, because he hasn’t knocked in the six months he’s lived there, they don’t knock, and because he lives here so why would he knock? He doesn’t knock. He opens the door and is immediately witness to a quite intense makeout session transpiring between Matt and another guy, on Matt’s bed. This, in itself, is not weird. Rare? Yes. Unprecedented? Yes. But not weird. Foggy knows that Matt’s gay so it’s no surprise that he would be having romanticness with another guy, and he’s never mentioned anything about being asexual so Foggy’s not surprised that he’s having romanticness in the first place. It’s not weird that Matt’s making out with a guy. It’s maybe a little awkward that Foggy walked in on it. This awkwardness is exacerbated when the only response Foggy can think of to the situation is an oh so eloquent: “um, hi”, which startles both Matt and the guy and is generally just an awful thing to say to two people who are in the process of sharing saliva.
This is awkward (wake-up-in-a-cold-sweat-ten-years-later-to-have-a-cringe-attack-about-it levels of awkward), but it’s not weird. The weirdness sets in when Matt sits up on the bed (the way people sit up when they’ve been caught making out with someone but are trying to make it seem like everything’s normal and they didn’t actually have someone else’s tongue down their throat two literal seconds ago) and says: “Oh, this is my roommate Foggy”, while gesturing at Foggy, and then “Foggy, this is my husband, Frank”.
“Hi,” says Frank.
“What,” says Foggy.
“I’m so glad you two are finally meeting,” says Matt cheerfully, all the while smiling like the world makes any sense at all.
“Uh, buddy, how drunk did we get last night?” is the perfectly reasonable question Foggy asks.
“What do you mean?” Matt says, frowning like the world doesn’t make that much sense after all. Good, Foggy thinks vindictively. He shouldn’t be the only one confused by this entire exchange.
“I mean did you at any point last night get drunk married to a stranger and then take him home with you?” Foggy clarifies.
“No,” Matt says, and that’s good, okay, maybe Foggy just misheard him earlier, maybe this is all just some misunderstanding and— “I can’t get drunk married to a stranger. I’m already married to Frank.” Foggy feels a deep headache take root behind his eyes.
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“Who the hell is Frank?” Matt looks like Foggy’s just kicked his puppy. Frank snorts. Foggy turns to him. “Who the hell are you?!” He bursts out. Frank does not answer Foggy. Instead he says to Matt:
“Red, you know people can’t just psychically know that you’re married. You gotta tell ‘em.” His voice is laced with amusement. Or at least Foggy thinks it is. He doesn’t know what Frank sounds like when he’s amused. He still doesn’t know who Frank is or what he’s actually doing here. Maybe he’s an actor and this is all just one of those prank TV shows, one of those ones with really elaborate pranks where they hire actors to make out with your best friend and pretend to be their husbands.
“No, but I told him about it— I definitely told you about it!” Matt exclaims.
“Um, I’m pretty sure I’d remember you telling me you’re married ,” Foggy says.
“Well, okay,” Matt says, slightly less excited this time, “this is my husband, Frank.”
“Yeah, I think I got that part,” says Foggy. Also, “Okay, but why have I actually never met your husband before today? We spend all our time together; how could I not have met him?!” This is when the so far seemingly useless Frank finally decides to step in instead of just laughing quietly at Foggy and Matt’s expense.
“I’m a marine. You haven’t met me cause I’m staying at the base. I’m here because I finally got some time off to visit Red.”
“Oh,” Foggy says. That makes sense, but also what the hell. “So, um, when did you guys get married?” he asks, because he’s got nothing better to say.
“Straight out of high school,” Matt says, “we kind of grew up together.” He’s got a small smile on his face now, probably thinking back to precious childhood memories. Frank kisses his temple. It’s actually kind of cute. But still hands down the weirdest thing that Foggy has ever experienced. It’s just a lot to process, his best friend having an accidentally secret husband who can just kiss his temple whenever he feels like it.
It’s still kind of awkward for a while after that, but it fades out, as does the weirdness. They all get takeout that evening and hang out in the dorm room. Matt’s face turns as red as his hair and he protests loudly as Frank recounts, in excruciating detail, what a weirdo he was a kid, to Foggy’s great entertainment. All in all, it’s a pretty decent evening, at the end of which Foggy feels slightly more inclined to accept his best friend’s secret husband. As long as he keeps those embarrassing stories coming, Foggy decides he’ll let him stay.