Chapter Text
The first few weeks of college fly by quicker than he thought they would. Gary actually liked his professors; they saw potential in him. The photography club had been a success, too, him finding a new hiding place in the photo tech room. Harkness ended up not being half bad as a roommate—good at keeping his shit on his side and not making too much noise when he came back late from whatever nerd project he's on that week. His only issue is that he's made it his personal mission to get Gary out of his dorm.
"Come on Gary, it's just lunch! Right in the dining hall!"
Harkness is shoving his journal and too many pens in his messenger bag as he waits for his response. He meets with the Journalistic Society after lunch (He knows most of his schedule by now, but you couldn't pay him to admit that).
Gary was trying his hardest to ignore him, trying to make himself busy at his desk, knowing he'd been fucking around for the last hour.
"I know you're not busy man, cmon," Guess it didn't work.
He can practically hear Harkness pout from behind him. "If you come, I won't bother you ever again, swear it! Scouts Honour!" Gary stifles a laugh. Fucking Scouts Honour- what's with this guy?
He spins around in his chair to face his roommate with an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes at the way Richard's face lights up when he finally agrees.
—
It's not like Gary didn't know some of Richard's little buddies by now; he's seen (and avoided) them countless times. He knew Pete through some of his liberal courses, but he had made a bit of an enemy of him by this point. All he asked was what was assigned last class, and somehow Barkovitch made 'I dunno, was having a shit day and skipped' come out more like 'Fuck off, ask somebody else'. Pete stopped trying to talk to him after that.
There was also the Ken Doll, who Gary learned was named Stebbins. Harkness had been hanging around him more lately and giddily recalling all of the day's events to his roommate the moment he shut their door. Gary couldn't believe the shit he just said sometimes. Hark was such a queer that he almost found it endearing.
Outside of those two, he didn't know much of the rest outside of their names, which kept floating in the back of his mind as he walked down the dining hall food line behind Harkness.
He was now watching the group of six as he and Harkness shuffled down the line. There were the "Muskeeters" or whatever gay shit Harkness said they call themselves. Ray was (unsurprisingly) next to Pete, with Hank and Art opposite them. Art was laughing at some shit Hank had said, almost choking on his water. On the far right, he could see Stebbins listening quietly as he picked at his tray.
See, Gary had been avoiding Harkness's little friend group for many reasons:
He didn't want to impose on his roommate's life.
He never fared well in big groups back home.
The most beautiful man he'd seen to date was always there.
You know. Many Reasons.
His last reason seemed to come up more than others. Said man, whose name he learned was Collie, Collie Parker, was now sitting across from Stebbins, softly smiling at the same joke Hank had made. His hair was up in a loose ponytail now, face resting on his fist. Gary suddenly felt that all of this was a terrible idea.
Don't fuck this up, Barkovitch.
"You coming, Gary?"
He was snapped out of his panic by Harkness, already making his way towards his friends. His friends. God, he wanted to vomit.
Gary sharply swallowed as he trailed behind, picking at his hands as they made it to the table.
He cringed as he watched the conversation abruptly stop at the sight of him. Harkness seemed not to notice. As Harkness introduced him, he felt each face turn to him periodically, eating away at the little confidence he had with each stare.
He watched silently as the group made room for them, Harkness chatting as they sat down. Gary now found himself next to Art, Harkness seating himself beside Stebbins.
"Gary? You're in my Lit class, yeah?" he heard Pete speak. "
"Uh, Yeah." Gary couldn't decipher his tone. Given their last real interaction, he didn't trust it to be an inviting one.
He let himself fade into the table's conversation, fiddling with the strap holding his camera. It's why he's not expecting a question thrown in his direction.
"So, what got you on that camera stuff, man?" asked Art, a small, seemingly genuine smile across his face.
The question almost excited him. Gary couldn't help but smile as he began. "I got my first camera when I was small, one of them shit disposable ones. My Meemaw—"
"Fucking Meemaw?" Hank cut him off.
Pete started up with a small laugh. "You a country bumpkin, Barkovitch?"
He felt himself tense. "I ain't no fucking bumpkin—"
Hank kept going. "No, no guys, you gotta understand—his meemaw got him wee old camera when he was just a youngin!"
Gary could hear others at the table start laughing. Laughing at him. This was a terrible fucking idea.
"Hey fuck all the way off man. Nobody asked you shit."
"No but seriously, fucks a Meemaw?" More Laughter.
"Nobody asked you anything either you dumb fucking queer." Silence.
Fuck.
So now that's too far —
That got Ray going. "Hey man, nothing called for all that it was a joke—"
"Nonono, I'm just a fucking country dumbass, right? I didn't comment on any of your sissy bullshit,"
He was talking to Pete again, "or your prissy fucking writing—"
"Hey." Barkovitch's head snapped towards a slam on the table.
"Calm the fuck down dickhead. No one is coming for you." Fuck, Collie—he looked like he did on orientation, eyebrows furrowed and his eyes glaring with warning. Gary really didn't know what to do with that. With any of this.
"This is fucking stupid," he shoves himself up, grabbing his stuff.
"Hold on, Gary!" he feels Harkness tug him back by his wrist, but Gary shakes him off. Probably harder than he had to.
All he heard when he turned his back was indiscriminate chatter and Harkness calling after him.
—
Gary was running.
He wasn't sure where, but he trusted his feet to carry him somewhere, anywhere to get away from whatever the fuck he'd done. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He scratched into the scabbed skin of his neck, wincing as he felt his nails dig under one. He's so fucking stupid, Harkness just wanted to do something nice for him and he fucked it up—his hands trembled as he itched at the old wounds on his nape—why couldn't he be normal for two fucking seconds?
His legs ended up carrying him to the photography hall, which was thankfully devoid of anyone able to question him. Gary watched his hand as he unlocked the darkroom, the scabs and blood had dirtied under his nails an ugly brown. He all but slammed the door behind him and threw himself onto a chair. He was now staring at his feet, eyes adjusting to the red safelight, blurring with tears . He wasn't sure when he'd started crying.
He sits like that for a while, chest heaving as he braces his head against the table in front of him, smelling the synthetic air of the darkroom. He only got up when he felt uncomfortably wet, tears making small wet spots on the thighs of his jeans and making his face sticky.
He pulled up the collar of the tee he was wearing as he left, hoping it would help his hair hide his shame.
—
The sun had begun to set when he made the trek back to his dorm. When he unlocked the door, he was met with his still unmade bed and the mess of papers and journals on Richard's desk. He knew his roommate wouldn't be back for another half hour, so if he played right, he might not need to talk about any of this today. Or ever.
After a quick, cold shower he stood in the bathroom, staring at himself for too long before slapping himself out of his thoughts. He's lying in bed when Harkness comes back.
He hears the lock click. "Gary?"
"…."
"It really wasn't as bad as you think."
"Fuck off."
"No, seriously! you didn't need to…you know—"
"Fuck off Harkness."
"I'm sorry about Hank and Pete, they really didn't mean to offend you or anything. Honest!"
Gary clutched his pillow closer to his chest. He could hear his roommate shuffling behind him.
"I—" He hesitated when he heard Harkness stop.
"I didn't mean to fuck up whatever you guys had," said Gary into his pillow. He didn't know if Harkness could hear his kinda apology, but he couldn't bring himself to move.
His ears burned when he heard Harkness give a small chuckle behind him.
"You didn't fuck anything up! Well, not too bad at least."
…
"Okay."
The rest of the evening moves past without too much friction, and Barkovitch felt the pit in his stomach grow a little less deep.