Chapter Text
It had been around 3 and a half hours since Damon met that boy at the record store. He did mean to buy something: Menagerie by Bill Withers, but he was sure Graham would rip him a new one for the hypocrisy of getting a 70s record. Little did he know, Damon went back to the shop just as Graham was out of sight, and bought himself the disc.
He regrettably didn't have a turntable- just a CD player, since he didn't own a car (so did all of New York City) and couldn't move large cargo around. The sound was just the same to him. He always knew people who preferred vinyl were just pretending. And that Graham guy definitely seemed like the type of geek to do that.
Damon was sitting at his desk, playing the first few tracks of the album and actually studying for once, when he heard a knock on the door. Grumbling, he got up and tried looking through the peephole to no avail. He had forgotten it was painted over with sharpie. Some asshole had thought it was funny to rip away his security like that. Damon opened the door and internally braced for impact, eyes lighting up as he recognized the man standing in front of him. Graham! Sporting a particularly small hoodie and extremely disheveled damp hair.
"Yo! They already got you checked in??" Damon exclaimed with unsuppressed excitement. He had been looking forward to seeing Graham again, and didn't want to go looking for him with Bête Noire in hand. It was a wonder Graham even knew what room he was in.
"Yeah, a guy on this floor left so they had space for me. Said it smelled bad? You know anything about that?" His grin was undeniably and outrageously adorable as he looked at Damon with a smug look on his face. He was leaning on the door frame, comfortable but only exactly where he was standing; not inside, and not exactly outside either.
"I should be asking you, you smell like a wet dog! Did you take a shower in the Hudson before coming here or what?" Damon shrieked dramatically, holding his nose close with his thumb and index fingers.
"You putting me on? Did you see how much it was raining out there? Nearly drowned. And you didn't say this place had communal showers! I bet y'all use the soap bar to jerk off, fuckin' gross..." Graham groaned, as if he had heard stories of the dreaded Hayden Hall and the nasty boys that reside there.
Well, it wasn't a boys only dorm, but the floor was almost exclusively men, and not very hygienic ones at that. Hopefully, with the exception of Damon. Hopefully.
"No excuse for that stink. Go shower! Outta my face! I've gotta study." Damon chuckled rudely, closing his door already.
"Fine, fine! I hope I use all the warm wa- wait is that Bill Withers?" Graham inquired, genuine curiosity rather than judgement in his voice. But you can never be too careful.
"Uhh, maybe. Why? You like him?" Damon eyed his CD player for a second before returning to look at Graham, trying to minimize eye contact whilst searching for malicious intent. He wasn’t afraid of getting teased for his music taste- he loved what he liked- but for some reason he desired Graham’s approval. After less than a day of knowing eachother.
Graham was different than the other college boys and New Yorkers. He wasn’t aggressive or flippant like the guys Damon surrounded himself with. He was snarky, yes, but in a way that only made Damon want to talk to him more.
“Yeah! He’s mad talented. I didn’t think you’d be the typa guy to listen to him. I mean, my pop likes him, but only ‘cuz he’s 50.” He too turned his attention to the CD player. It had a couple of stickers on it, mostly beer labels and a worn cut-out of Todd from Fox and the Hound. Cute.
Suddenly he snapped out of his wandering gaze. “Oh shit, I’m starting to catch that stink now. Gross. Later!” With that, Graham closed the door and Damon heard his footsteps softly tapping away from his dorm room.
“Only cause he’s 50.” ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Damon shrugged off the thought and returned to his studying, stalling as he picked up the marker and instead began to think about his new friend.
It wasn't long before a gentle hum pervaded his surroundings, a marker that someone has turned on the showers. The water flowed through the metal tubes in the walls and added a layer of serenity to the music he was listening to. Leaning back in his chair, Damon finally uncapped his marker and returned to the textbook.
The vinyl stopped spinning as the needle slipped into the run-out groove and the pipes succumbed to silence. He stretched back in his chair, utterly pleased with the minimal amount of work he got done. Now he could indulge in a guilty pleasure, his beloved Game & Watch. Sure it was quite a childish game, but Donkey Kong was addictive nevertheless. He was eighteen- still technically in his teens.
Gamers his age were already coding their own Sierra On-Line text-and-graphics adventures, but he didn't have the time, talent, or technology. Maybe Graham could do that. He began to wonder what computer science majors even did in their classes when, speak of the devil; none other than Graham lightly knocked on the door and pushed it ajar.
"So sorry, do you have a towel I can borrow, there's shit stains on the one the showers." He only poked his head through the door, seeming incredibly shy.
"Ugh, gross. You gotta get used to using your own towel here, man, seriously," Damon groaned, passing over the clean white towel that rested on his bed-frame.
"Thanks." Graham blurted out quickly.
"What's... are you naked right now?" Damon asked, eyeing the way Graham held the door almost shut and close to his body.
His hair was plastered to his forehead, even more than it was earlier. This time he looked messy and cozy, the tip of his nose pink from the steam. These details were very hard for Damon to ignore, but he did his best.
"Fuck do you think? I'm not gonna-" he interrupted himself by closing the door and wrapping the towel onto his body. "-put a dirty ass towel on.." Graham opened the door again to finish his sentence unmuffled. "..my clean self. So what?"
Damon only laughed heartily. "Sick risk to take. Go put your clothes on," he said, shutting the door.
"Good night to you too??" Graham shouted from the other side, and began to shuffle his wet feet away awkwardly, leaving behind a trail of warm water droplets.