#ChoicesCarnival

[angstymarshmallow]

Our Rooftop - A Freshman Fanfic

#Choicescreates Round 8

Prompt: Friendship

Book: The Freshman

Rating: T

Pairing: MC x LI Not specific

Hosted by @firefly-hwufanficwriter, 

[A little note: I keep telling myself there’s a bunch of other fics non-freshman related awaiting me and yet I keep coming back to this. I guess it’s hard not to think about this awesome group of people when they leave realistic impressions of friendships. Here’s my submission for this week’s prompt; something short and I think fitting. Hope it’s enjoyable!]

[Summary: The rooftop was a place that held special meaning. For MC and her friends it was a place of safety, a place to cope with whatever life threw at them, including each other and the drama that not only helped define themselves but also solidified their friendship.]

Our rooftop tells a story.

Its own story really.

More than a simple place, our rooftop was practically us. A reflection of what we were. How we coped. How we survived. It became a tangible entity. Because for the most of us, it meant something. Something important. A beacon that brought us all together.

Our rooftop marked the first night where we connected. Where we pushed aside the uncertainty that came with being strangers, and soon enough that same uncertainty had dissolved into something satisfying and indisputable as the night unfolded. A game of truth or truth ensued and suddenly we were no longer interlopers. We swapped stories under the stars. Shared wine and kicked back to listen to each other. We laughed so hard that our eyes swam with tears and we sputtered our most embarrassing secrets.

Our rooftop signified where we exchanged our feelings, the beginning of something new, something exclusive. A place to share how much we meant to each other and where our hasty hands had impatiently pulled off the barriers our clothes presented – just so we could sink into each other’s skin. In our urgency, hands explored every inch of each other and our breaths became heavy until we were nearly gasping for air. Needy moans escaped our lips and we kissed under the quiet moonlight’s watchful gaze. It was here that the rest of the world seemed to fade into a heady swarm of desire as we reached our limit, joined together by pleasure.

Our rooftop was a quiet place for us to think. To look up to the stars and wonder about our place in the universe. To huddle together nearly side by side and think about what the future held. We thought we were ready for anything and yet anxiety still plagued us when we considered our destination. Where would the rest of our three years take us?

Our rooftop was a place of solace when the rest of the world seemed to turn its back on us. It sheltered us when everything felt difficult, too much too fast. Whether we were mending broken hearts, fueling our own frustrations or seething with unresolved feelings – it was there. Waiting for us. Our footsteps rushed past the stairwell only to sink to ground once we reached its safety, slamming the door closed behind us. We chose to be here when we wanted to escape. When the burdens of our harsh reality made us second guess ourselves. We would press our eyes firmly shut and lean against the railing; inhaling the intoxicating scents of spring as a reminder that it was almost over. We found peace here after long-winded arguments or after a stressful project we couldn’t seem to find the time for. We spent nights sketching the stars; planning surprise dates, and mornings practicing speeches. .

Our rooftop marked our last night together before spring ended. Where once again; we shared a game of truth or truth that reminded us how much we meant to each other. How much we grew in our freshman year. How different we were now than we were before. We swapped stories under the stars. Shared wine and kicked back to listen to each other. We laughed so hard that our eyes swam with tears and we sputtered our most embarrassing secrets. We danced under the moonlight’s watchful gaze and kissed even though we were in a crowded room.

Our rooftop changed us, but more importantly we changed each other.

Our rooftop tells our story.

[angstymarshmallow]

Pieces.

#Choicescreates Round 5

Prompt: ‘Mirror’

Book: The Freshman

Rating: T

Pairing: None

[A little note: For awhile I thought about doing a poem; but I couldn’t get the right words in time for the deadline. So I emptied my thoughts and started writing instead. So here’s the finish product.]

[Summary: With the end of the semester nearly in sight, MC struggles to come to terms with herself. To find her voice and finish The Freshman before the end of spring.]

The pen leaves her hand and hits the notepad. She hopes the longer she stares at the blank page, in all its symmetrical glory something will happen. Some spark will set off, and the words will come to her – the way they often do after a long day.

They don’t. They’re stuck.

She can feel the wheels turning in her head. Her frustration grows and she leans back in her seat to rub her temples. She’s waiting for something, anything. She’s waiting but nothing happens. The words are still missing.

Her feet tap impatiently against the floor, and the silence inside the room is no longer deafening. They ease the quiet tension in her shoulders, but just barely.

The tapping doesn’t comfort her. They don’t provide relief. Instead, they make her more aware of the deadline hanging above her head. The deadline presents a problem. The inescapable and clinging reality that’s slowly suffocating her.

The panic rises inside her chest. Like a ribbon twisting itself around her ankles and dragging her down – it keeps her from reaching afloat, from reaching the surface. Her heart hammers inside her chest, before she forces the panic to subside. She can’t stay there. It’s too dark, too dangerous– she refuses to.

Her eyes dart back to the empty notepad and she picks up her pen.

She hesitates.

The words flicker like a flame inside her head, but they don’t spiral out of control. They stay there, barely a semblance of anything important. She doesn’t think anyone cares about her words, her story.

Her fingers edge closer, and they shake when she tries to write. To find words.

She hesitates.

Then she hears it. His voice. Her professor’s commanding tone, it’s so clear that she nearly drops it. Her hands stop shaking as she listens. His words are comforting, they tell her to embrace it. To embrace all the uncertainty, the pain, the longing, the anger, the resentment, the joy, the love. He tells her to embrace all of it. Even the feelings of lost, of wandering on her own with no real destination. She embraces it even if the answers aren’t what she thinks she’s looking for.

She hears and she listens.

She hears her mother’s adamant tone to never give up. The insistency to keep going even when it feels pointless. It isn’t the only voice either, it mingles with a lower octave until she can hear her fathers’. She hears the sincerity, of how much they love her. How much they’ve sacrificed for her to be here, to have the opportunity to do just this. Sitting by her desk with a pen in hand. She hears their encouragement so clearly that she can almost picture them. Their words comfort for her, their smiles take some of the worry away.

She hears and she listens.

Her suitemates laughter fills her mind. Their hushed tones and gentle whispers reminds her of the good and the bad. They bring her back.

The moments when they’re all huddled together on the roof, sharing beers and exchanging secrets. The excitement that one only has when they’re surrounded by their friends, dancing the night away at the boat dance last year. Throwing caution to the wind and the elation that followed after hitting the ocean’s surface – leaving all their troubles behind long enough to enjoy being young, being free. Letting out all her frustration with their wavering friendships in the form of moshpits, shoving each other playfully and letting her aggression take control. The constant shopping sprees and putting on her best for a play that had the chance to mean something. She remembers the bad moments too. The harsh exchange of words, yelling at each other because of the unforgettable concert, hurting each other deeply and flinching away when it became all too much. The feeling of being pushed aside by everyone and yet wanting to stay because of how much they all meant.

She hears and she listens.

She listens to all the pieces, trying to see the entire picture. Trying to mend all the bits – even the broken parts of it. She pushes all the pieces together, mending the unpolished mirror she had once been at the beginning of the year.

This time, as she picks up her pen and smiles to herself the words come to her. They don’t stop until it’s finished. The perfect mirror; a window to her soul.

[angstymarshmallow]

We’re All Different. - #LoveHacks Fanfic

#ChoicesCreates Carnival Round 3

Title: We’re All Different.

Prompt: Different doesn’t mean wrong.

Choices Book: #LoveHacks

Rating: T

Pairing: None

[ A little note: I really wanted to write a #LoveHacks fanfic this week. So I kept thinking about the #choicescreates prompt and a way to incorporate my favorite easy-going gang of friends without it being about particular love interests. This isn’t so much of a fanfiction in the traditional way. It’s more of something that highlights who they are and somehow their friendship still works. I’m also in love with this song and I thought they fit pretty well with it. I hope it’s an enjoyable read 🙂and I always appreciate feedback]

[Summary: It’s MC’s night to plan a fun Friday for the gang. Just what exactly awaits this merry band of misfits?] 

Dani wakes up precisely at 6:00 am and not a moment sooner. Her familiar alarm blares promptly beside her, seconds before her hand flies to it and hits the snooze button. She always hits the snooze button in the mornings, deluding herself into several minutes of extra sleep. But on Fridays, she doesn’t. Specifically; it’s her Friday to plan their night out. She waits a few seconds before tossing to the other side of her bed. She knows she can’t stay long and her body is already missing the comfort of her blankets as she stands. Her mind has already drifted to her plans for the rest of the day. She can’t wait to see everyone tonight, especially after a long week of work. She’s still waiting for inspiration to get through her Clickit article. It’s in its final stages but it isn’t ready. She thinks about all the editing it needs. She thinks about all the men she’s dated in her twenties. None of them sticks out to her except him. She pictures his hipster glasses and adorable smile before heading to the shower.

Brooke’s making protein shakes in the kitchen at 6:15 am. It’s the only thing that helps her function in the morning. She doesn’t believe in wasting daylight hours. She rolls her eyes because she knows her roommates are probably still asleep. Her hands move in a flurry and blends the familiar ingredients together; frozen mangoes and strawberries, pieces of kale, ginger  - and other assortments as her eyes absently glances at the television screen. The shopping channel is her guilty pleasure and she often fights the urge to impulse buy. Currently the new blender that’s staring obnoxiously at her makes her itch to grab her credit card. She looks away as she finishes her shake. She thinks about the new workout plan she’s invested in instead. It’s for her newest client. She takes her personal fitness guru position very seriously. Empowering people has always been important to her. Whether through rigorous routines or healthy and balanced diets - she can think of no better way to make someone feel confident in themselves. She thinks about how excited she is to meet her new clients, knowing she can make a positive impact in their lives. As she takes a huge gulp of her refreshing shake, she wonders absently if Sereena will be up in time. 

Sereena almost hits the floor after nearly rolling off her bed at 6:30 am. Slamming the snooze button for the fifth time isn’t stopping her from remembering she has to go in today. The word work still appalls her, especially when it means catering to a bunch of juiceheads. Apart of her always fights the urge to quit. But no matter how much she wants to, she knows she needs the money. It’s still the last thing she wants to do even though it’ll go along way in helping her pay for for her graduate studies as she waits for it to start. She grumbles under her breath at the prospect of going in, knowing that only a bunch of overbearing alpha males await her. They’re all so boring and stupid. She doesn’t expect any meaningful or insightful conversations to take place and she’s yet to find anyone that’s proven her assumptions wrong. She doesn’t hear the door open, but she notices Brooke’s familiar blonde hair from the corner of her eyes. She looks up and frowns at Brooke’s cheerful expression and the protein shake in her hand. It’s the last thing she wants to see in the morning. “I know, I know.” She mutters before Brooke can say anything. She’s going to make them late. It’s not her fault, she just hates working there.

Mark impatiently bobs his leg up and down beneath his office desk at 12:15 pm from Zamble. It’s nearly lunch time and all he can think about is getting away from these lines of code. The bug fixes he’s been trying to implement all morning needs to be tested but he can’t seem to find his focus. It’s Dani’s night to pick a venue. He hasn’t heard from the rest of his friends except for the strange texts he receives from Dani and Brooke’s cheerful check-ups on him. He can’t help but think that maybe tonight’s the night. Maybe, tonight he can finally tell Dani how he feels. He wrestles with it until the idea creates panic. He rubs his temples and shakes his head to try and clear it. As much as he wants to tell her - he doesn’t think it’s worth the risk. He growls under his breath in frustration as he glances back to his desktop screen. Neither his personal life nor his professional life is working out the way he wants them to right now. He feels miserable and takes a moment to spin in his office chair. He props up one elbow and leans towards his windows, staring at the people below. He watches them with mild interest. He’s about to leave for an early lunch and give up his plight entirely, when his manager IMs him. Emergency meeting at 12:30 pm. It looks like his lunch is going to have to wait a little bit longer. He sighs and fixes his tie as he thinks about what other work they’ll pile on top of him today.

Cole’s latest mobile app PlaceHolder manages to bring him solid profits by 4:30 pm. It’s the end of the week and he’s doing the math inside his head of how much he’s made. It’s a big number and so far his greatest success. He isn’t done yet. He thinks of how much he can make next week with the rate he’s going. It amuses him how much people pay for other people to get shit done for them. At the rate his newest idea is growing, he can easily imagine selling shares to greedy investors and business junkies. It’s something he deliberates often and with every innovative idea. He likes the fast-paced environment that the mobile apps presents. He’s already thinking ahead; give the people what they want and profit from it. His next big business idea has to be better. He’s already checking the next place on his list before his mind travels elsewhere. He wonders absently what Amir’s doing. It isn’t the first time he’s thought about him since the night they spent together; but he refuses to give it much thought. Despite his efforts, he can’t quite hide the smile he feels, or the strange flutter inside his chest. He knows better than to get mixed up with Amir. He knows better than to mix business with pleasure especially when it��s his biggest adversary. But apart of him is already anticipating the next time he’ll see him.

Horatio wipes the counters of his bar and hums quietly to himself at 7:05 pm. The typical Friday crowd has began trailing in since nearly an half an hour ago at Double Tap. He recognizes a lot of familiar faces as they smile and nod at him; settling down with their well-known favorites before finding their frequently visited tables. Friday nights are busy, and he likes the routine. He likes seeing the heterogeneity, the the variety in the crowd. It’s one of the reasons why he likes working here so much; finding a kind of uniqueness with customers that he’s never had anywhere else. He keeps humming to himself as he greets patrons and effortlessly line shots on the edge of the bar while frat brothers wastes no time in knocking them back. He knows all the right things to say; charming them without being overbearing. He ignores the lewd comments when he hears them and keeps an easy-going smile as they ask for another round. He plays his role very well, the bartender with practiced patience - almost nothing gets him mad. He wonders idly if Tara will stop by before he has to leave. Almost as quickly, he shakes the thought away. She’s probably still working her shift and he sighs in defeat at the realization that he won’t see her until he makes another request. Or until he finds the nerve to call her. The latter seems less likely. Nevertheless, she’s in his head. He thinks about her pretty smile and the sound of her laugh until he hears his phone vibrating inside his pocket. He checks it. It’s just another one of Dani’s texts; a cryptic message with the directions of where everyone’s supposed to meet. She reminds him to bring the cooler and his stock of beers and hard liquor.

- 

They all arrive around the same time. Miraculously, they had no qualms or trouble following the vague details and directions they received via text. They park their vehicles near the edge of San Fransisco. The midnight air is cool in its close proximity of the beach. They watch the water’s reflections uneasily as the air picks up. They shudder before bundling all their equipment and race towards the sand. Dropping shoes and jackets near the shore, they begin setting up thoroughly. 

Horatio’s cooler is tucked under his arm and his guitar case is strapped across his back. Horatio deposits the cooler and retrieves his guitar before strumming a few warm-up chords. Brooke and Sereena hands everyone snacks accompanied by bottled-water, as Dani helps Mark build a bonfire. Mark makes a face as he blows the tiny kindle of a flame, hoping it’ll spark the rest of the logs. Dani chuckles at his attempt. Brooke argues about the benefit of water with Sereena when Sereena refuses to take a bottle. Cole queues his music to his wireless beats by dre speakers and plays Paris by the Chainsmokers and Horatio groans at his mainstream choice.

If we go down then we go down together They’ll say you could do anything They’ll say that I was clever

Dani laughs at something Sereena says. She usually finds Sereena unintentionally hilarious. Sereena complains about something a guy told her at Solstice, insisting it was sexist. Brooke explains to Dani that the random stranger was simply complimenting Sereena .

If we go down then we go down together We’ll get away with everything Let’s show them we are better

Cole excitedly shares a new idea he’s been working out the chinks of with Horatio and Mark.  Mark nods absently at Cole’s energetic speech but out of the corner of his eyes he’s watching Dani.  Mark’s reminded of how much he likes her smile. When Dani looks up and catches his stare Mark averts his eyes so he doesn’t see Dani’s hesitant smile back.

We breathe in the air of this small town On our own cuttin’ class for the thrill of it Getting drunk on the past we were livin’ in

“To Fridays!” The six of them yell. They knock their glasses together, cheering unanimously before gulping down shots in unison. Immediately, Brooke dissolves into a fitful of giggles and Sereena frowns when Horatio begins pouring them another round. As the night turns into dusk, Dani steals Mark’s lighter before running down the shoreline. Mark doesn’t waste any time in chasing after her. He catches her in a few quick strides and holds her by the waist. Dani tries to wiggle out of Mark's arms before they feel the ocean's shore lapping at their feet. Mark doesn't relinquish as his hands scrape along her sides until Dani has trouble catching her breath. When Mark finally lets go and Dani’s on her feet again, she gives him his lighter. They stare at each other for a moment, unable to look away until Cole tackles Mark off his feet. The rest of them join in until it becomes a tickle war. Mark quickly gets Brooke and Dani out with his quick reflexes before Sereena tackles him. Horatio and Sereena dance around each other, dodging deftly until their feet get tired. Eventually, Cole’s the winner and claims victory by shouting his full name and puffing his chest.

Let’s show them we are Show them we are Let’s show them we are Show them we are Let’s show them we are better

The bonfire’s embers flickers in and out when they finally return to it. Mark tends to it quickly as the rest of them settle around it in a semi-circle. Horatio begins strumming his guitar and Brooke drops her head to Sereena’s shoulder. Dani helps Mark in kindling more wood and their hands innocently brush. When it’s warm again they settle beside Brooke and Sereena. Mark’s arm carelessly rests around Dani’s shoulders. They’re close as they can be, huddled together for warmth without being too close to the bonfire’s ardent flames. The lights flicker and dances to the beat of the gentle breeze as they nurse their beers. Horatio hums quietly until Brooke goads him to sing louder. Horatio acquiesces with a small smile, breaking out into song. Cole grins as Horatio sings in hushed tones the song that Cole’s had on repeat.

Let’s show them we are better Let’s show them we are better If we go down Let’s show them we are better If we go down Let’s show them we are better 

They all join in and their voices fill the empty space. The silence disappears as the noiseless night becomes alive. They laugh and sing their hearts out. They shove their hands in the air and dance. They pass beers between themselves and spill them on each other clumsily when their movements began to become slower. They playfully tease and bump each others shoulders as their voices carry and seem to almost reverberate within the corners of their hearts. Horatio’s patient fingers continue to play expertly on his guitar, keeping in tune with their voices.

If we go down then we go down together We'll get away with everything Let's show them we are better

They’re all different but it’s their differences that makes their friendship special, makes them unique. Although they’re all distinct in their own ways, coming from different walks of life - it’s their difference that helps them to understand each other. To somehow fit inside this big universe. It’s their difference that helps to tell their story.

X.

[angstymarshmallow]

Passion Led Us to Where We Are Part 1 - Tyler (A Freshman Fanfic)

#ChoicesCreates Round 6

Book: The Freshman

Rating: T

Pairing: None

[A little note: I didn’t really have a plan for this week’s #choicescreate prompt, but after talking with @choicesmyway and @lanapowellblog they’ve helped me sort out my own thoughts; and motivated me to pursue this.  I wanted to put something together with my favorite gang from freshman as their first year comes to an end.  Unfortunately because I’m slow, and how long it actually is; I’ll probably post them in parts. I don’t know if I’m too close to the deadline  @pb-boeboe @hollyashton but here’s my submission for this week’s prompt. And here’s what I think makes Tyler passionate about Hartfeld.  A head’s up - it’s not really canon, I actually wish we knew more about Tyler and his personal life. Thoughts and critisms are always welcomed. Hope it’s enjoyable!]

[Summary: With the semester coming to an end, freshman students have started their final project. A time capsule suggested by Hartfeld’s student council, most students jump at an opportunity to leave a mark on the school. Here’s Tyler’s final semester project].

The fresh scent of flowers wafts towards Tyler’s nose as he crosses the street. He’s heading towards the main campus of Hartfeld. He breathes in the fresh air; the smell of beautiful weather after holding himself captive at home. He doesn’t care that it tickles as he rubs his nose with the crook of his thumb. He doesn’t care that it even causes his eyes to water just a little. He isn’t going to let something small such as seasonal allergies to ruin his good mood.

With finals behind him, he feels a sense of peace and happiness that’s been otherwise missing since it began. He smiles faintly at being able to see sunlight again, to taste it on his skin after being trapped inside for nearly two weeks and only escaping for brief coffee runs. His skin is a little red by sudden the intrusion, the sudden change in his routine but he doesn’t care. He basks in it, taking a moment to enjoy the perfect weather before stepping to the sidewalk. 

It’s eight am and the sun beats heavily across his back.

He nods to the rhythmic sounds of Owl City playing loudly inside his ears. Happy lyrics - that puts a spring in his step and keeps him wide awake, unlike most of the students he passes. He watches the small pockets of students, studying their exhausted features and tired faces. He watches how slow they move. They barely look awake, barely look alive.

He can relate. Studying with little breaks for exams usually reduces him to a zombie. He hopes he doesn’t look as tired as they do, with sunken eyes and slumped shoulders. His brain’s usually mush after studying for weeks on end, but this time he’s not letting that stop him. With his goal in mind, he doesn’t let it.

Yet he understands. He knows how hard it can be on the body, how frustrating reading the same things and practicing the same formulas over and over again can drive anyone crazy. He can’t really blame them – exams take a beating on everyone.

Late night study sessions are easier to recover from – because for him it’s all about pacing. Organizing everything in a structural way. Even though the rest of his suitemates were still nursing crash naps and headaches; he’s feeling particularly elated that his are all over

He doesn’t let their grim expressions discourage him. Instead, he lets the lyrics of vanilla twilight wash over him. The soothing sounds of his voice reminds him that he should check on Abbie. A quick text is all he needs to make sure she’s okay. But as he reaches for his phone he remembers how early it is. He remembers that Abby and early mornings don’t mix well. He fights the urge to check on her every so often as he crosses another street. He doesn’t want to risk waking her up. She’s a light sleeper and he’s an early riser – even the subtlest of movements can cause her eyes to flutter open in alarm.

Warmth spreads to his chest. His cheeks are flushed but it has nothing to do with the weather. He remembers last night. Their own early celebration from the rest of their friends. And unlike their first few times together – it’s better. They understand what works for them and what doesn’t. It doesn’t even take them long to get tangled into one another. They don’t wait long to make it under the safety of their blankets.

He stumbles a little on the sidewalk, bringing him back to the present. He’s almost to the main building now, and tightens his hold on his backpack as he stares at the building.

He’s the first to leave home and he wonders idly if the rest of them would make it in time. It isn’t just any typical day for Hartfeld local freshmen. Today’s important. Today marked the time capsule – the important last step before crossing the finish line of the semester.

He hears it  first from Chris until Arjun confirms it. Since they’re the on the student council, they’re the ones giving it the green-light it needs. He thinks the idea is great. He’s excited by it. The idea of a final project – one everyone can share before embarking for the summer.

His eyes glance up in time to open the front doors. The auditorium is a short walk away, and he absently slips his hands inside his pocket as he walks there. He takes his time because he knows he’s early. He gets to actually see Hartfeld. He checks out the pictures of graduates before him, random bulletin boards and posters around the school on his way to his destination.

There isn’t a big line up when he gets to there. There’s maybe two dozen freshmen already here – most of them unrecognizable to him but he joins the line immediately. He quits looking for familiar faces quickly and turns his music up to drone out the bustling conversations around him. Fireflies keeps him upbeat.

When his eyes skirt around the room again, they find Egar and Tripp not too far in front. They wave at him when they notice him in the back and gesture for him to join them. It’s not a significant distance ahead, and yet he doesn’t move. He smiles at them and shrugs instead. He doesn’t want to skip past all the people waiting too. They’re all just excited as he much as he is. He thinks they’re all ready to leave a piece of themselves behind too.

He watches the line.

They take them one at a time, and each student disappears from the rest of the auditorium before emerging back a few minutes later.

He hears a bunch of girls laughing at something loudly behind him. He ignores it and switches his playlist – one of Abbie’s favorites. He turns his music louder and eventually the rest of the world fizzles out until it’s his turn.

He thinks he prepares as he walks inside. He’s been thinking about the question since Chris mentioned it. But he doesn’t realize how nervous he is until he’s inside the small room.

Professor Atiyah looks up in time to see him enter. “Ah! Tyler!” She smiles and welcomes him to take a seat.

He stops to stare blankly at her. He doesn’t know how she recognizes him. He keeps to himself in most of his classes. He’s hardly ever spoken to her.

He looks around warily at the room as he closes the door behind him. He’s never been in here before but it’s a simple room, with simple furniture. A window is located to his right, and towards his left there’s only empty walls with boring colors. It’s a slender room that immediately makes him feel small. 

She’s sitting by the desk in front of him. A tripod is beside her. She gestures with the flick of her hand again for him to seat.

His eyes dart to the chair. Another simple thing about the room. He hesitates then takes the seat. There’s nowhere for him to look so he keeps his eyes to the floor until she clears her throat.

He doesn’t know where to start, what to say. Suddenly the speech he planned feels ruined. His stomach is a bunch of nerves. Suddenly, he feels excited and nervous at the same time.

He glances up at her in the same token that she calls him by his name. She brings his attention towards the intimidating looking camera. He’s hoping she can’t see him sweating from where she is. He fidgets inside his seat before wiping his hands on his plaid shirt.

She’s looking at him with sympathy – like she understands how he feels. The thought alone is ludicrous and he wants to snort. But a part of him is moved by her small act, and her eyes do try to comfort him in their own way. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He thinks that she can probably tell how nervous he is. He isn’t exactly hiding it. He fidgets in his seat for a moment longer, trying to put together all his thoughts to flow naturally, to be cohesive.

She doesn’t tell him to hurry. She just places her hands on the desk and look at him. It isn’t an uncomfortable stare. It’s actually starting to make him feel better. Her smile isn’t condescending either. It’s kind and he wonders why he’s never talked to her before. It feels a little silly to him now.

He takes a deep breath before looking at her. Then at the camera. The words he’s practiced so much for this moment isn’t the ones that he wants to talk about now. They’re different and come from a place he thinks he’s let go a long time ago. They remind him of home. 

He leans back inside his seat. Finally, he feels the courage to say the words out loud. The words he used to hope he could ignore. “Getting into Hartfeld’s just another step for my future.” He begins. His words are a little shaky but he doesn’t let it deter him from continuing. “My parents have always had high expectations – so naturally this has always felt inevitable. Like I said, this is just another step.”

He pauses as he thinks about this semester. He thinks about all the experiences that leads him here, to this moment. Having an undeclared major hasn’t stopped him from taking an interest in computer science; the attention his parents has always wanted him to give. The attention it probably deserves. 

He’s used to ignoring, because it’s always been their dreams for him and not his. Attending Hartfeld is supposed to be different. It’s supposed to be his chance to try something else, something more. He wants to be more than what they are; he doesn’t want to turn into one of them. A workaholic – a word he’s been familiar with ever since he’s been a kid. But he can’t fight it anymore, even if it reminds him of all the nights he spent home alone.

“Both my parents work in IT.” He supposes that’s why he’s always been interested. Watching them work has always fascinated him. “They dedicate their lives to it, and for a long time I didn’t want to end up like that. I didn’t want to love it more than everything else.” He shakes his head clear of memories that clung to him. “And yet for some reason, no matter how hard I try - I keep comping back to it. To coding, to figuring out each line and putting it all together in order to make a bigger picture.” He tries to come up with a definition that can explain it. He tries to come up with an idea that shows how much it means. “It provides a universal language, even though it’s a whole different way of thinking. Procedural. Logical.”

Suddenly the camera feels too personal. But he doesn’t want to lose his nerve. He’s come so far already - and if Abbie was here she’d be proud. He looks away from the camera and studies the floor instead. “I like being able to make sense of patterns and maybe all this time I’ve just been afraid of admitting it.” He looks back up at the camera again, and this time he isn’t so nervous anymore. “For a long time, I thought if I went back to it– I’d be doing it for them and not me, but maybe I’m doing it for both of us.”

He smiles as he remembers distant memories; the few moments where they were all home together. Though his parents were were often too invested and his curious eyes had kept wandering over to their screens, it’s a part of his better memories of them. 

“I can’t be bitter about it anymore. My future means more than that. And the woman that’s always been there for me – supporting me, loving me means more than that too. She’s made me realize that I’m not just doing it for them anymore.” He smiles just thinking about her. “I’m doing it for me too.” She’s done a lot for him this year, put a lot of he used to think in perspective. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “Passion brought me to Hartfeld. It brought me to Abbie and it brought me peace. Passion’s me realizing how important it all is - not just the parts I like. And I can’t throw it away.” His smile is faint now but it lingers like the quiet resolution he’s made. He finally feels at peace with his decision.

The professor looks surprised but quickly recovers. He suppose that he did just empty his thoughts at her, no  at his older self.  He laughs awkwardly to try and fill the now quiet room. “At least that’s what I’d like to think anyway.”, 

She nods thoughtfully. “That was great Tyler. Very admirable.”

Heat rushes to his cheeks at her compliment. He ignores the feeling of embarrassment as he stands. “Thanks Professor.” He shifts his weight a little, before clearing his throat. Compliments makes him feel awkward.

He gestures towards the door when he realizes she was waiting for him to leave. “Right I’ll just go...want me to send the next person in?”

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