Chapter Text
Micolash hated the word jealousy, yet its ugly green vines twisted around him as he listened to Laurence and Rom talk. Their project intrigued him greatly. Rats were more intelligent than people gave them credit for. Micolash recalled the endless war the maintenance man of his orphanage had with the rats always finding new and more elaborate ways to sneak into the kitchen. Perhaps they were descendants of these Yharnam tunnel rats that students Wilhem’s group were now experimenting on, it was a thought he didn’t feel keen to bring up. Talking to Rom about his childhood was one thing, but the thought of Laurence learning details of his menial origins made his stomach turn. His manner of dialect was obvious enough.
Micolash felt the strong urge to leave. It was wholly unfair the disparity between the relevance of their first-year projects in comparison to their position as freshmen. Studying the recessive and dominant factors of plant biology was as he’d described it to Laurence; farmer’s work. Only instead of the intuition of gardener trying to grow a massive pumpkin for an autumnal festival, it was he and his peers doing it in microcosm with noxious weeds as busywork. This research was nothing more than an exercise to train the less scientifically minded students how to think. It bored Micolash greatly.
Grey eyes wandered about the room, books everywhere, a dream come true. Still, he stood at the bottom rung of the ladder. That nasty feeling turned in his chest as his eyes settled on Laurence, who was looking at Rom intently. Their arms waved as they spoke, it was a quirk of theirs he liked. Then suddenly both are looking at him, the erratic blur of their voices and features suddenly returning to his focus.
“What do you think?” Laurence posited at him.
“…I’m sorry, could you repeat the question...?”
Rom smirks and crossed their arms. “See! Even Mico doesn’t follow your theory, it’s so boring!”
“No, my apologies, I wasn’t paying attention… I was trying to solve a probability equation for this seed crossbreed study…”
Rom in the same tone as before, teases Laurence again, “See! It’s so boring Mico would rather do his homework.”
Laurence laughs lightly. A charming laugh that makes Micolash want to plug his ears with his pencil. “Perhaps he’s doing his homework because he’s a better scholar than you.”
Rom gasps with false scandal. “How dare you! We slack off in equal measure.”
“We usually complete our work before any recreational reading…” Micolash chimes in meekly.
“Nooo! Don’t take his side!”
The refined young man laughs again, ignoring Rom’s exaggerated plea, his sharp features solely focused on his roommate. “Micolash my good man, I would like your perspective on this predicament within our study.”
Laurence goes over that which Micolash had previously tuned out. The pair had been debating about a discrepancy in their blood samples from the rodents and were at a standstill of what to conclude from the data. Laurence’s theory was that the rats with the discrepancy were an offshoot species of the common rats in the area who’d begun to change after generations of isolation in the tunnels beneath the city. Rats breed quickly after all, and the new theories of evolutionary biology were a hot topic in academia. Rom argued it was more likely a disease of the blood from their food chain.
Micolash looks over their combined notes. He took a moment think on their ideas.
“Well you could always try breeding a pair, one from above and another from below. If their offspring are fertile than they’d be the same rat. Or perhaps you could test your disease theory by doing a transfusion from a control subject to your test subject. Though I don’t think it would be too conclusive if your other subjects came from Yharnam. The rats likely climb out of the tunnels from below the city. I doubt as first years you could requests live rats from a few a towns over…”
The pair looked at him, both seemingly satisfied with his answer despite taking neither’s side.
“I wish you were in our section.” Rom laments. “I think Master Wilhem would appreciate your intuition.”
Micolash frowns. “Well, someone has to muck about with these dull seeds you know...” He hadn’t meant to sound bitter but the venom off his tongue was clear enough. Laurence’s brows furrowed slightly.
“You’re here on a scholarship, yes?”
Thin lips manage to pull tighter. “Yes. why do you ask?”
“Just thinking…”
Rom pokes Laurence hard in the arm. “You should talk to Master Wilhem about transferring him to our class.”
So, the A-block students were getting some sort of preferential treatment. Or rather their project course was. He had done much if his other coursework with Rom, the only major difference was this practical application project. Micolash pondered what sort of parameters were used to place students into Wilhem’s group. The immediate obvious answer was money. The second was personal connections. Laurence had both, he wandered what Rom’s were.
“I’ve already spoken to Micolash about this for next semester. It wouldn’t make sense for him to transfer this late into the term.”
Rom sighed with defeat. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“Your effort is appreciated, but there’s no need to trouble yourselves on my behalf…” Micolash kept his tone steady, unbothered. He wished Laurence would stop looking at him. He’d been sized up by bullies plenty of times before, unlike them, Laurence was highly intelligent as much as he loathed to admit it. It was unnerving to be under his scrutiny, even if he knew the man was likely assuming the wrong things. Like a square in a round hole, that nagging feeling that he didn’t fit in was aggravating Micolash once again.
“It will work out! Don’t be so gloomy!” Rom smiles.
“Right.”
The three don’t converse more outside of a few mundane comments about the cold weather or the way one of their professor’s mustache had been comically lopsided recently. Micolash had never thought he’d want to be anywhere but the library, yet here he was frantically penciling out equations to be done with his homework and excuse himself. He finished his current arithmetic, eying the others to see if they were still working. They were, so he quickly tucked his papers into his bag and stood from his seat.
“I’m going to the kitchens while they’re still open. I’m feeling a bit hungry.”
Both look up at him.
“Oh, I figured we’d go together like usual.” Rom frowned.
“…. Well you two seemed like you hadn’t reached a stopping point. I don’t want to interrupt.”
“There is a whole dataset we need to interpret.” Laurence says with a bored expression.
“It’s just a list of numbers and converting units we can finish it later! I could go for something to eat too.”
“Do what you like.” Micolash mumbles, “I’m going now... I’ll see you there I suppose.”
Micolash leaves before either can get another word in. They can do whatever they like! Long legs carried him quickly out of the library. A quiet anger bubbled beneath the cold surface; it loathed him to think about why. He’d worked hard to get where he was, he could reach beyond Laurence and his posh voice and fancy ribbons.
The walk to the kitchens went by in a haze, it wasn’t until he was looking at his reflection in his bowl of soup that he felt cognizant to reality. What did it matter? It was annoying how good the soup tasted. As though it were another reminder of what life had been denying him all this time. Once finished he took his dishes to the designated bussing cart and returned to his seat at the long wooden table to read. He didn’t feel keen to return to the library nor his room. Beside if Rom had wanted to catch up then they could. Despite his present frustration he still wanted them to come. It was an uneasy feeling.
Students filtered out of the dining hall slowly, its hours of operation were nearing its end. Micolash had begun to give up on seeing Rom again, an ill feeling in his chest that he refused to call guilt told him he’d been acting unkind. Then there was the light thump of a book hitting the wood of the table opposite of him. Looking up he could Rom’s big eyes looking at him expectantly.
“…hello Rom.”
“Hey Mico… the hall closes in 30 minutes. Will you walk with me?”
There’s an urge to comment something cruel, ask if they’d rather have Laurence walk them. He doesn’t, instead he nods and makes an affirmative sound. This brings out Rom’s smile, he likes it when they smile.
The pair leave the dining hall as the staff give them annoyed look for sticking around so long. Initially they walk in silence towards the girl’s dormitories, a building which was only recently fitted with rooms as it was formerly not allowed for non-menfolk to attend university. Micolash was sympathetic to the plight, even if it was one that did not fully affect him. The gnawing guilt from earlier was wriggling up his spine. He glanced sideways to look at Rom’s face, boyish yet pretty. A renewed admiration for them struck him as he thought of what it must have taken for them to achieve such academic heights considering their starting line. It made his irritation with Laurence burn hot.
As they approached the building Rom takes a turn off the neat stone walkway towards the woods. The shorter procures a small lantern and attaches it to their belt to guide their way.
“Wait. Where are we going? Am I not walking you back to your dorm?” Micolash felt sheepish as he asked the question, he’d avoided speaking until then in favor of waiting for Rom to make the first move.
“You will, but first I want to show you something.”
Rom looked like a phantom as he followed behind, their Byrgenwerth robe billowed as they trekked the rough terrain. The forest seemed to bend itself out of the way for their convenience. Micolash found himself stepping on every twig and getting snagged on branches, he was never one for the outdoors. Eventually they reach a clearing and step out onto the gravelly shore of Byrgenwerth Lake.
“Here we are!” Rom declares and puts out their lantern and dashes to the shore.
The moon shined bright off the water’s surface, a pleasant rhythm of waves lapped at its shore, glittering like the gems of a crown. The cool light gave the scene an ethereal glow. While the lake was pretty Micolash felt his gaze pulled to Rom’s face yet again, to their bright eyes reflecting the glow of the heavenly body which orbited their lonely planet.
“What do you think?”
Micolash steps closer to meet them, their warmth drawing him in like a moth to flame.
“It’s quite spectacular.”
“I like to come here when I can’t sleep.”
“Alone?”
Rom gives him a look.
“Not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, just concerned about wildlife.” He does a gesture with his hands to imitate sharpened claws; this earns him the grace of their laughter.
“You’re so cute Mico, but wolves and bears were hunted to extinction decades ago.” They smile fondly and Micolash’s heart drops into his stomach. “There are no beasts in left here.”
“Cute?!” His scandalized tone only deepened Rom’s belief in that matter.
They tug off their scarf and unfold the square of fabric placing it on the ground like a picnic blanket. Plopping down they pat the ground beside them. Micolash takes the cue and sits next to them carefully avoiding sitting too close.
“Why have you brought me here?” He says staring at the view of the water again.
“Can’t I just show my friend a nice place?”
“Yes, but...” he wanted to say something, to comment on his own erratic behavior in the library, “I… just have the impression you have something on your mind.”
“I suppose that’s obvious. Do you have some kind of grudge against Laurence?”
Micolash already felt cold in the autumn air, their pinpoint accurate read on him had the cold now swimming in his veins. He sighs.
“I… take issue with him I suppose.”
“How so?” Rom was not impressed with the half-hearted answer.
“… I dislike nepotism. He is clearly the product of it. And all of you in Wilhem’s section seem to be deemed extraordinary and living with him I simply don’t see what makes him more worthy than, than well...” he wants to say me but he stops himself and dares a glance at his companion.
Rom is listening attentively, the look in their eyes makes him feel as though he could see through them and watch the gears turn in their head like some transparent clock. He was being considered as they consider everything, with rational careful thought.
“I see. Perhaps that’s why I like having you as a friend, you’re an outlier too.” Rom scoots closer and leans against Micolash’s shoulder, the warmth is nice. “I won’t ask you to change your opinion but working with him I find Laurence to be quite brilliant.”
“Does that make him an outlier too then?”
Rom pinches his leg causing the young man to flinch. “Hey! Dont use my words against me! But yes, I think he is.”
“So shall I sit and be happy at a disadvantage because one rich man is smart?”
“That’s not what I meant, I’d like for you to sit at the table with us.”
“I’d like that too.”
“Good. We mustn’t let the status quo get in our way.”
Our Micolash thinks, and he likes how it sounds. He would have to curb his distaste for Laurence, he’d known that and let the pitiful nerf of an emotional response get the better of him.
“Yes, you’re right.” He intends to leave it at that but tacks on, “and I’m sorry.” Unsure why he did so.
Rom gives a small smile in response. “Come on, it’s late we should get back.”
Micolash nods and watches as they stand up. Reaching down, they take Micolash’s hand to pull him up, he wonders when he’d stopped fretting over letting them touch him so freely. They then pick up their scarf and shake off the sandy dirt and stray twigs.
“Mico are you cold?”
“Yes, a little.” He confesses. And they lean up on tip toes to wrap the fabric over his shoulders like a shawl, the wool shields him from chill. Satisfied with their work, they light the lantern and lead the way back to the campus. When they reach the entry to the girl’s dorm Micolash pulls off the scarf to return it.
“Here.” he says feeling awkward for having needed it at all.
Rom pushes back on his hand. “Keep it. Goodnight Micolash.” They lean up and kiss his cheek before swiftly turning towards the building and disappearing behind its heavy wooden doors.
“Goodnight… Rom.” Micolash says to no one, his hand coming up to touch where their lips had been.