This wasn't your first time at the rodeo. Well, metaphorical rodeo; though when you went to community college you remembered there was a rodeo team there so...it can still count?
Either way, though you were on your own (finally) and going to the University to pursue your dreams, this clearly wasn't your "first day" of college. You have your Associate's degree, and you busted your ass—barely—to be able to get that darn piece of paper. You knew this would require work on your part, and a lot of it. College could be a walk in the park, but it could also be a real pain in the ass.
The kind of pain that leaves you cramming until three-thirty in the morning to finish your persuasive speech final over the stigmatism over mental illness—one that you got an A on, mind.
You were always good at giving pep talks to others, but to yourself? That was something you could never really hone your talents on.
Still, you felt yourself bristle as you finish combing your hair; still enjoying the new cut you gave yourself as a treat before starting school. You knew this was going to go well. It had to go well. You were going to have a fantastic semester and get all A's and meet friends and get invited to all the frat parties but don't really go because the thought of drinking with strangers sounded kind of intimidating...
...Improvements could've been made on that particular thought, you mused. You had your first class at nine o'clock. Still kinda early for your preference, but it was your Stagecraft class, at least you could wake your night owl ass with the sounds of whirring power tools and the obnoxious theater kids.
God, weren't you one of those, once? Shaking off the embarrassing thoughts of your high school and community college years, you take one more look at the time on your phone. Eight-fifteen.
You always did get too excited for your first days, sadly. Though this time it'd be different. This time you'd get up at least an hour before you had class or work. Or at the very least not sleep in until noon every day for the rest of your life.
It was hard to tell if you were playing good cop or bad cop with yourself sometimes; most likely playing a deranged psychopathic man who thought he was a cop. At least people humored the poor man. Poor deranged man...poor you.
Before you let any more of your abstract anxiety-ridden thoughts consume you this time you got ready and headed out of your apartment. It was fairly cheap and only a mere fifteen-minute walking distance from the campus. But dear God was it small; claustrophobic, at best.
Locking your door, you double and triple check your tote bag for your phone, wallet, and your textbook and supplies for your one thirty class after Stagecraft. You nearly had a heart attack when you couldn't find your keys when you realized they were still in your left hand which was still on the doorknob.
You were pretty sure there might be other students who chose to live in this apartment complex as well, but to be greeted by a student who looked possessed at the bottom of the staircase going up to your floor was still startling.
"Uh...good morning?" you say indistinctly, cursing yourself for being so pleasant to a stranger who looks like he could die any moment now and you'd be to blame for your abundant positivity. Could that even be possible?
The student didn't look too much older than you, probably younger. Yet he stayed at the third step, swaying side to side with a look that you knew all too well.
"Oh god," you sighed, "7:30 class?"
"Yeee," was all he could groan out between his cracked lips, bless this boy.
"You need coffee," you said, "wanna join me? I'll buy."
Taking pity on the poor zombified man at your apartment complex—who was actually a poor freshman is named Denki—you persuaded him to accompany you to the University's coffee shop. You did have about an hour to burn, and the theater where Stagecrafts would be taken place was a brisk walk from here.
Speaking of Stagecrafts, you soon found out that this Denki was also enrolled in that class. As well as that he can completely change demeanor and personality when he gets a little "recharged".
"I really owe ya, I would've probably just slept through the class if I'd went back to my place." Denki thanked again, taking another swig of his ice coffee.
You smile, sipping your Frappuccino. You were never a huge fan of coffee but this little iced beverage has saved your butt from falling asleep in classes one too many times.
"Just remember this when you enroll for next semester," you replied, "there is nothing wrong with taking later classes if it'll keep you from missing them or falling asleep in them."
"Definitely!" he added, smiling ecstatically.
You couldn't help but smile back, the energy from this blonde was infectious. But you were a little unsure what to do next in this situation, you were certainly a person some people would be drawn to, but you never in your life just picked a random person from a flight of stairs and went all that Mean Girls scene: "get in, nearly deceased man; we're going to get coffee!"
"So, what are you majoring in?" you asked after what felt like an eternity, yet Denki answered like he was just waiting for you to ask.
"Theater!" of course, "But I really just wanna do backstage stuff, I'm not really cut out for acting."
That was a surprise; you remember back in your cringe-worthy theater kid days where there wasn't a single person who didn't want to be under those stage lights, including yourself. To be but as a backstage hand was a disgrace in your old theater clique. Which now you feel silly about, doing backstage work is meaningful to the production and is a worthy job to do. It was probably the main reason you were taking this class in the first place. An homage to those who did backstage work back at your high school and community college; sorry you thought they were nerds...you were the real nerd.
"That's cool!" you complimented, nearly inhaling the frozen caffeinated concoction to the bottom of the cup, trying to get to know someone was thirsty work.
That sounded way better in your head, but luckily you weren't stuck with your own thoughts as Denki posed a question.
"So, are you in theater? You seem like one."
Abort. Abort. He knows. Who tipped him off? It was probably the barista. That shady, attractive looking barista, curse them!
"Uh, not really..." you denied, as denial was the first step to dealing with any accusations. "I'm actually a psychology major, to be honest. But I wanted to take this as an elective."
"Oh," he sighed, looking a little deflated. Poor guy must have hoped he'd get to see you in shows and theater classes, not that you blamed him. "well, I hope you'll like Stagecrafts, I should repay you by showing you the ropes around the theater!"
You chuckled nervously. While you still couldn't handle a light board by yourself if your life depended on it, you still knew your way around a theater. Still, a fresh perspective on that side of theater was what you were kind of looking for.
"I'm looking forward to that then, Denki." you grinned.
"Yeah! Uh...sorry did you give me your name already?" he asked.
"Not yet, it's (Y/N)."
Your grin was getting bigger, you knew this wouldn't be a bad semester.