Dalton Lachlan weaved through the shelves among the boys fishing for books. With several books already clutched under one arm, he focused on finding the one of highest importance. His eyes wandered over the spines in search of the surname Paine, a personal favorite author of his sister's. Following the alphabet down to the shelves just below his eyesight, he craned his neck to read the golden lettering engraved in each leather spine. Common Sense, The Age of Reason, and at last, The Rights of Man. A sense of shallow triumph lifted his otherwise heavy cheeks. Remembering Mara's letter, she hadn't specified which book of Paine's she was most interested in, so he gathered all three into the pile of books in his arms. In her letter she had asked Dalton to write his American History essay dedicated to her, and being the loving older brother that he was, of course he willingly complied.
Satisfied with his resources, Dalton shifted some of the books from one arm to the other, and crossed the library towards the common room. He sank into a chair a few seats away from Ivan, casting the other boy a few wary glances as he stacked each book individually in front of himself.
Ivan jotted down a final few sentences, shutting one book and opening up another. He had gone through and placed thin scraps of paper where he found relevant information. He was trying to get a paper done for class, one where you were thankfully allowed to choose your own topic. Naturally, of course, Ivan had decided that trying to explain his views on morality was his best bet. He was right, sure, he had the paper outlined before even trying to gather research, but trying to dig up the relevant quotes was murdering him from the inside out and spelled out another all-nighter in his dorm room.
Ivan's head snapped up as soon as he heard the door open. His sharp, steely stare followed Dalton for the first few steps he took, then returned back to his work. He looked back up once Dalton had taken his seat, drawing in a short, sharp breath.
"Just a question for you, Lachlan- do you need to make so much noise when you come into a room?" Ivan hissed, breaking the room's silence. He set his pen down beside his paper. "I just don't feel that making your presence that known was quite necessary." His voice was dripping with irritation as he spoke, almost as if Dalton's mere presence in the room was a problem and an annoyance in itself.
(Should they be roommates? It might cause even more conflict between them lmao)
Dalton pulled the topmost Paine book from his stack into the empty place in front him, having had the front cover partially open when Ivan began to speak. “I’m sorry?” He swiveled his head to the side, squinting. Damn. He hadn’t realized just walking into a room caused such a disruption. “The room was silent until you opened your mouth, Wolfe. Now if you excuse me, I have work to do.” Exhaling the quietest scoff possible, Dalton returned his attention back to flipping through the first few pages of the book.
His lips pulled into an amused grin as he arrived at the title page. The surname of the author, printed in finger-oil-stained ink, was an accurate descriptor for his peer. Ivan Wolfe is such a Paine. Dalton suppressed a chuckle under his breath.
(I would honestly love that, lmao, sure!)
"You're sorry? Apology accepted, then." Ivan sniffed, writing another fast note before snapping his book shut. "Just a quick word of advice, though: I'd suggest working on how heavy your footsteps are. They really are distracting." His voice was low and he stood, taking two of his books with him as he left the common room, presumably to put them away. His shoes clicked softly with every step against the floor.
He put his books back where he found them, trying to take a break from his work by hunting down where the books' original homes on their shelves were. Ivan came back after a few minutes, maybe five or ten, sitting right back down and beginning to write again. He really did look tired, dark crescent moons stamped under both eyes as he wrote.
(Lmao ok cool!)
Dalton side glanced back over to Ivan when he continued speaking, remaining silent himself. At least until Ivan stood up from his seat. “Your shoes make as much noise as mine,” he said, a glimmer of amusement still lodged in the edges of his lips. Once Ivan disappeared through the doors, Dalton flipped to the next page and traced the lines of text with his finger. Within these flowery words and long sentences there must be at least a quote or two that could fit into his thesis.
Dalton lost track of how many pages he had skimmed through by the time Ivan returned to his seat. His gaze flickered over to his roommate once. Twice more and only for half of a second each time. Dalton couldn’t help but to admire how Ivan poured himself into his writing, no matter how irritating he was at other times.
Ivan bristled slightly with Dalton's words, though he wasn't keen on giving him any more of a reaction than he already had. He crossed his legs, narrowing his eyes in fervent thought as he furiously began to scribble away. Clearly he had hit his stride, gotten into the groove of his work. He noticed Dalton's gaze the first time, though not the second or third. He had half a mind to all him out on it, but.. no. He needed to get this done as fast as possible.
Only a few pages left. Three, maybe four, five if he was feeling particularly inspired. Which he wasn't. And that was incredibly agitating for Ivan. He checked his watch, as well as the clock on the wall. Not too late, not yet, anyways. He paused, looking up from his work to watch out the window, where the rain was beginning to pick up, falling in heavy droplets onto the ground below.
Narrowing his gaze back in focus, Dalton angled himself and his belongings away from Ivan. In the next few minutes of silence between the boys he found a rhythm skimming though the pages, and jotting down line numbers of quotes he deemed apropos for his essay. There was a dry cadence to research Dalton didn't particularly care for, but it at least seemed to eat up the shortest amount of time. Skim through the author's thoughts for insight. Identify the quotes. Analyze them in the essay another time. The rain roused him out of his concentration a little later, about the time he reached for another Paine publication to browse through.
Ivan yawned, blinking rapidly to try and force himself to stay away for the longest time possible. He had gotten one page done in a matter of minutes. He set down his pen, sat up, and stared down at his work. Ivan rubbed his temples as he read. Well- reading was a strong word for what Ivan was doing. More realistically, he was staring down at the papers and trying to read. Skimming, really. Fucking hell.
"Shit…" Ivan mumbled softly. He wanted to sleep. But, of course, that wouldn't be possible right now. The essay was due six days from now. Naturally, this meant it had to be finished now.
Dalton set the new book atop his journal, flipping through until he found a promising heading. With only a vague idea of his essay in mind, he felt basing his essay around the quotes he found interesting would be most efficient. It almost always worked out for him in the end, especially if he gave himself enough time to edit and rewrite.
Hearing Ivan’s disgruntled mumble from behind him, Dalton swiveled his head to the side, as far as he could strain his neck. A feeble attempt to toss a pointed glare over his shoulder. At times he admired his roommate’s persistence to his work, while at other times… if Ivan was so audibly miserable, why didn’t he just go to bed?
Ivan stood up, shutting his books. He finally caved in to his own needs- trying to stay in this godforsaken room would knock him out. His footsteps clicked against the tile floor again as Ivan got up to leave, go back to the dorms. Maybe he'd work in there instead. At least if he fell asleep in his dorm, it wouldn't be nearly as bad as falling asleep in the library.
Ivan began the semi-long walk back to the dorm. At least, it felt long. Maybe five minutes tops, but he did have to cross the building and go up a flight of stairs. He rubbed his eyes, dropping onto his twin-sized bed as soon as he got inside. Didn't even turn off the lights.
Dalton continued to work diligently, only breaking his focus when Ivan got up to leave the room. He paused in the middle of a phrase. Staring at the page, twiddling the pen between two fingers. A moment of absently gazing at the blurry page passed before he centered his attention again. He managed to jot down a few more thoughts. At first there was relief when Ivan left; maybe he could get some real progress done without the looming presence of his nemesis.
However the universe seemed to enjoy contradicting his wishes. As the night dragged on his productivity gradually waned, and inevitably it ended altogether. Dalton sighed and gathered up his books to head upstairs, thinking—hoping—that Ivan might have fallen asleep already.
(i'm so sorry i was MIA for so long! i guess i crashed & was really burnt out for a while, evidently. i'm gonna try to be active again, & hopefully school doesn't cause it to happen again)
It took a few agonizing minutes of tossing for Ivan to get comfortable when he got into bed. Yes, Maybe changing into his pajamas or laying under the sheets would help. Ivan, however, felt much too heavy in his bones, and elected to just put up with the discomfort for the small while it would take him to drift off. He'd wanted to finish his work that night, but clearly whatever powers may be weren't too fond of that plan.
And yet, even after all of that, Ivan was dead asleep on his bed when Dalton came in. Sprawled out on top of his (now incredibly wrinkled) sheets, he was sleeping in a way that didn't look particularly comfortable, though perhaps just leaving him be would be the best option.
(No worries!! That’s completely understandable. I probably won’t be too active if that’s ok, but I will be when I can :))
Dalton pushed open the door to his dorm room with one hand, and an armful of books occupying the other. The books went down on the desk almost silently, careful not to disturb sleeping Ivan. Maybe it would have been better to inadvertently wake him and give him the chance to make himself more comfortable, but Dalton wasn’t in the right mood for a late night argument. Or whatever consequence waking up Ivan would be.
It took a conscious effort to remember to change out of his day clothes before collapsing into bed, luckily in a more comfortable position than his roommate.
