PROLOGUE

September 20th, 2000

             Marc Enjolras sighed.  So far, this had been one of the more frustrating days of his life.  His father had always said that college was an experience…
             “Hey.” Enjolras reached out a hand, stopping the first student who walked by. “Can you tell me where I can find the Undergraduate Housing admin office?”
             “Wallach,” the boy grinned.  “You’ll want to look in the Wallach wing, near Butler library.  Good luck, freshman.”
             “Thanks,” Enjolras muttered.  That was about the tenth time that day that he had felt more than a little foolish.

***********************************
             Enjolras gently eased open the door to the dormitory room. “Hello?  Is anybody here?”
             “Come in,” a voice replied mildly from inside.
             “He pushed open the door completely, surveying the room.  His eyes came to rest on the only occupant of the room, a dark-haired boy stretched out on the bottom bunk of a pair of bunk beds.  The light beside the bed was on, and Enjolras noted the large, dusty-looking volume in the guy’s hand.  He stood nervously in the doorway, unsure of whether or not he should just come right in and make himself at home.
             The other boy had pushed himself up into a sitting position, and Marc got the distinct feeling that he was under thorough scrutiny.  He had to say something before he lost his nerve, but the other boy spoke first, his gray eyes flicking up to focus on Enjolras’s blue ones.
             “You must be Enjolras.  My new roommate, right?” His warm smile comforted Enjolras somewhat.
             “Yeah.  Marc Enjolras,” he answered, taking his turn in examining the dark-haired boy.
            “Ian Combeferre,” was the pleasant reply, and he shifted the book to his other hand in order to extend his right one.  Enjolras shook the boy’s hand firmly, and Combeferre asked, “So, what class are you, Enjolras?”
             “I’m a freshman,” the blond youth admitted. “How about you?”
             “Junior,” replied Ian.
             “You’re a junior?  Then how did you end up rooming with me?  Did you register late or something?”
             Combeferre shook his head. “I had another roommate, but he asked for a room transfer at the last minute.”
             “Why?” Enjolras was genuinely curious. “You don’t seem half bad, as roommates go.”
             “I’m gay,” was the curt response. “That’s why he transferred.”
             Enjolras was taken aback. “Oh.  I see.”
             “I suppose you’ll be transferring as well?” There was a resigned note in Ian’s voice, as if to suggest that this sort of thing happened to him all the time, and he was used to it.
             Marc shook his head, a slight smile forming across his lips. “I don’t think so.  There isn’t anywhere else they can put me.  Besides, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” He added quickly, “Well, I mean, it won’t be, if you don’t…y’know…try to…”
             Ian grinned broadly. “Don’t worry, I won’t.  You know, I think you just might grow on me, Enjolras.”
*************************

 Journey on...

 Go back to the Frat House...